Highlanders

by Tarah Scott

  “Go to your father, Erroll. I will see everyone to their rooms.” Without argument, Lord Rushton left and she said, “Come with me and we will see that everyone has a hot bath before dinner.”

  Eve wondered if she could request the evening meal in her room.

  *****

  Erroll gave a perfunctory knock to his father’s study door, then entered. The marquess sat behind his desk, a ledger open before him.

  “Reports from Angus?” Erroll asked as he crossed to the chair opposite the desk and sat down.

  “Yes.” He closed the book. “I came here directly from Gretna Green.”

  His father had a way of knowing exactly where to be at exactly the right time. “How is Halifax?”

  “The doctor believes the chances are good he would live. His hip will never be the same, however. He will walk with a cane.”

  “What a shame my aim is so bad. I was aiming for his heart.”

  “He might have been luckier if you had killed him,” his father said. “Graham MacEwen gave sworn testimony that you were justified in challenging the earl, which satisfied the magistrate.” Anger flashed in his father’s eyes. “You, however, were damned lucky. If Halifax had died, you would be facing a rope.”

  “Should I have let him get away with kidnapping my fiancé?”

  “You should have had him arrested.”

  “You know as well as I that the matter would never have gone to court.”

  “You are in Scotland. I do hold some sway here.”

  That was true. “I suppose my passions got the better of me,” Erroll said in honesty.

  “Those days are past,” his father said. “You will stay at Ravenhall until you are married and this story is forgotten.”

  Erroll frowned. “That could be a good long time. I have business down south.”

  “I’ll contact Danvers and tell him to hire a steward to deal with my properties until you return.”

  “Danvers is a fine solicitor, but he is no businessman. I do not care to entrust him with our financial affairs.”

  “He won’t ruin us in the next few months.”

  “Much can happen in a few months,” Erroll said.

  His father regarded him. “Such as?”

  Erroll hesitated. He’d planned on telling his father about his business venture after he saw some success. “I purchased two threshing machines and I plan to oversee their operation through the first harvest in Norfolk. I wanted to be there to learn a bit about them before the harvest.”

  “You said nothing about this.”

  “To be honest, I wanted to get the machine operational and see if I could make a go of it first.”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing how the machine works,” his father said.

  “I had no idea you were interested in farming,” Erroll said with genuine surprise.

  “I am just as surprised to learn you are interested in farming.”

  “If you like, come to Norfolk for the harvest.”

  “I will.” The marquess leaned back in his chair. “I’m gratified you are taking more interest in your responsibilities.”

  “I was under the impression you were always satisfied with my performance,” Erroll said.

  “Your work is exemplary, but this is a bold move. What made you decide to try such a venture?”

  “Astley began using threshers two years ago and Roberts and Binghamton each purchased one for their farms a year ago. Astley, alone, has increased productivity by twenty percent. If we can see similar success, we might be able to allocate more land for cattle.”

  His father nodded. “We could employ more men to tend the cattle, and the sale of the wool will create work for tradesmen and merchants.”

  “Exactly,” Erroll said.

  “Have you plans as to who you would sell the wool to?”

  “I do, but I want to see how much productivity is increased this first harvest before I get anyone’s hopes up. I hired an experienced rancher to oversee our dwindling cattle. If the herds increase then at the end of this season I can feel confident about buying more cattle.”

  The marquess studied him. “You’re ambitious.”

  Erroll shrugged. “I believe it is a necessity. Our people need work now, but that need will be greater when our men return from the war. However, we face the problem of them coming home to a world that is foreign to them due to these advancements.”

  “Time has not passed them by that quickly in the last five years,” his father said.

  “No, but Napoleon is far from being finished with us. By the time we cripple him, our laborers will be older and our business owners much more savvy. That spells trouble unless we prepare.”

  His father nodded. “I see why you hesitate to be away. But I don’t think we face a great problem. Norfolk is a long way from London where the gossip will be centered. We can proceed as planned and, say, in a week or so, you can return to Norfolk with your bride. Your mother has already begun preparations for your marriage to Grace Crenshaw.”

  That caught Erroll off guard. “You said either sister would do.”

  “That was before I learned the elder daughter got herself with a bastard child.”

  “You are mistaken, sir. She never bore a child.”

  “The rumor is enough to ruin her for marriage. I expect you to marry a lady with an untarnished reputation.”

  Erroll grunted. “That seems unfair, considering the tarnish on my reputation.”

  “Men are forgiven such indiscretions. Though you have outdone yourself on that score. That aside, women are not permitted even a hint of scandal. The elder Miss Crenshaw has run off to Gretna with not one, but two men. Do you honestly want a woman of such low character for wife?”

  “She did not run off with Halifax. He kidnapped her.”

  “Indeed?” his father said in a soft voice, and Erroll knew the worst was yet to come. “Then she was in good company, as she is herself a kidnapper.”

  “Beg pardon?” Erroll said.

  “Do not toy with me, Erroll.”

  “I can assure you, sir, I am not toying with you.”

  “Then explain why she had you kidnapped.”

  “Me—kidnapped?” Erroll paused as if in shock. “Good God, is that the latest gossip?”

  His father’s gaze bore into him. “You’re saying it isn’t true?”

  “That is the most outlandish story I’ve ever heard. How could it possibly be true?”

  “I wonder how any of this is possible. Until now, I have not interfered in your life. I attributed your reckless behavior to the fact you lost your brother, and believed you would come to your senses sooner rather than later.”

  “I hate to disagree, but I am little different now than I was before Val died.”

  “Not true. You are far worse.”

  “You may attribute that to age and experience,” Erroll said.

  “Age has emboldened you, but you bed one woman after another as if you are on a mission.”

  Erroll didn’t think that was strictly true, but said, “They were very beautiful women.”

  “I doubt you will find a more beautiful woman than the younger Miss Crenshaw.”

  Erroll wasn’t so sure of that. He recalled the determination in Eve’s dark eyes when she pointed her gun at him, her warm arms unexpectedly thrown around him when he said he would hire Oscar, and her breath tickling the hallow of his neck…the pressure of her breasts against his when a towel barely covered her, her beneath him—

  “The girl is of sturdy stock.” His father’s voice intruded upon the intimate visions. “She will give you a horde of sons.”

  “Good God, sir, you make it sound as if I am marrying a horse.”

  “There are similarities. I will have no complications with this marriage. You will marry her three weeks hence, after the bans have been read.”

  Erroll shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

  “Why not?” His father looked nonplussed and Erroll didn’t blame hi
m. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone disobeying his orders, least of all his son.”

  “I am going to marry Miss Eve Crenshaw, sir.”

  “I forbid it.”

  “You did say you wanted a virgin for a daughter-in-law. The lady meets your one requirement.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Erroll smiled. “This time, I am guilty of compromising a virgin.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Erroll found his mother in her chambers, fifteen minutes later. She looked up from the secretary where she was writing. Her face lit with a smile. She laid down her pen and extended her hands as he neared. He grasped her fingers and pulled her up and into a hug. Erroll’s gaze caught on the sheet of paper she’d been writing on and the list of names enumerated there. She stepped back, then drew him to the couch near the warmth of the hearth.

  She sat down. “To what do I the honor of this visit?”

  He sat beside her and draped an arm over the top of the couch. “We have had no chance to speak since I arrived. It is a son’s duty to pay his mother a proper visit when he hasn’t seen her in two months.”

  She snorted. “This is about the sisters.”

  “I do wish to discuss them,” Erroll admitted. “But first, my guests are settled, I presume?”

  “They are. I arranged for the ladies to have a bite to eat in their rooms, and baths. They did look a bit bedraggled.”

  “It was a long trip. Thank you for seeing to them. Now, tell me how you are.”

  “You can see I am well. There is nothing new to report since I last saw you, so let us dispense with the small talk. I understand I am to prepare for a wedding.”

  “So I am told,” he said. “We only arrived a few hours ago, but you seem to have made good progress on the guest list.” Erroll nodded toward the secretary. “One would think you already had a list in hand.”

  His mother laughed. “The marquess informed me days ago there would be a wedding. Since the wedding will be held here on Mull, I am shortening the list. That isn’t a bad thing, I think. Do you have any guests you wish to include?”

  Erroll shook his head. “I imagine Ash and Olivia are on the list?”

  A shadow flitted through her eyes. “Of course.”

  Erroll cursed his stupidity. Of course Olivia and Ash were invited. His mother knew how important it was to have his sister and brother there…just as much as it would have been important to have Val attend.

  Erroll smiled. “Invite whomever you like. All of Mull, if it pleases you.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “That would cost the marquess a pretty penny.”

  “He is insisting I marry, after all.”

  “Therefore he should pay?” she asked.

  “Your words, madam, not mine. Now, as to the bride, I do have a preference.”

  Her brows arched. “You should have thought of that before you ended up in Gretna with two prospective brides.”

  “I see you are up to date on all the latest on-dit,” he said.

  “When the gossip concerns my son, I am.” Her expression sobered. “Erroll, I like the ladies, but I admit to some concern that one of them shot you.”

  “A mere flesh wound,” he said.

  “That does not change the fact she shot you.”

  “To be fair, I was a stranger who broke into her room at night and, well…woke her.” His mother’s mouth twitched in either satisfaction or amusement, he couldn’t be sure, for nothing ensured a son must marry like getting caught in an unmarried woman’s bedchamber. “To make matters worse,” Erroll went on, “her father caught us in a rather compromising position.” Literally.

  “More compromising then when you woke her?” his mother asked.

  “To my discredit, yes. Like any good father, Tolland was enraged and, in self-defense, I began to beat him half to death. He is quite fit, for a man of his age.” Erroll recalled the baron’s fist in his stomach. “She didn’t intend to kill me. In fact, I suspect she intended to fire in the air.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “It was close range.”

  “And you are a large target.”

  “Exactly,” Erroll said. “In any case, I have told my father that I will not marry the younger sister.”

  “Why?”

  “I believe it is my prerogative to choose a bride,” he said. “Is that not enough?”

  “Yes—usually. But you will admit this case is unique.”

  “Be that as it may, I am still within my right to exercise that choice, and I am quite adamant on the point.”

  “Your choice is between a liar and a would-be murderess,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No ocean shall hinder the speedy flight of gossip.”

  “You are a sensation!”

  Erroll couldn’t prevent a laugh. “And that pleases you.”

  “It does. But on a more serious note, I will not like it if Miss Crenshaw develops a habit of pointing a gun at you.”

  Erroll grinned. “The threat of facing your wrath may well stop her from trying it again. I daresay, the only difference between Miss Crenshaw and most other women is that she shot the groom before the wedding.”

  “I am not saying you didn’t deserve it,” his mother said. “But I will not countenance it.”

  “But of course,” he said.

  Something flickered in her eyes and Erroll wondered if she remembered a time his father deserved to be shot.

  She smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. “So it is agreed, you will marry Miss Eve Crenshaw.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘agreed,’ but that is the case.”

  “Ah, the marquess is not pleased.”

  “No, but he didn’t have all the information. He’ll come around once he has time to consider.”

  She snorted. “I suggest you don’t wait for him to agree, but make haste and marry.”

  “The reading of the bans takes three weeks.”

  “I will say no more,” she said. “If you feel certain he will change his mind in a short three weeks’ time, who am I to argue? Oh my, I had better contact the parson. He will begin reading the bans tomorrow, and we cannot have him marrying you to the wrong woman.”

  “That would be a sensation,” Erroll said.

  Her eyes widened in horror. “That would be a disaster! And if you think of doing any such thing I will shoot you myself.”

  “I promise not to change brides at the last minute.”

  “At this point, I do not doubt you are capable of it. Now that you mention it—” Erroll had the feeling what was to come did not bode well for him “—is not Grace Crenshaw under the impression she is to be your bride?”

  “She was hopeful,” he replied. “But she knew I was not amenable to the connection. Did she say something?” He would strangle the girl.

  His mother shook her head. “No, but given the latest version of the story—” Erroll had no desire to hear the latest version “—and the fact that I sensed she feels secure in the notion, I assumed it was true.”

  His mother sensed Grace Crenshaw felt secure he would marry her? Would wonders never cease? “No such indications from Eve Crenshaw?” he asked.

  “Not a one.” His mother’s gaze grew shrewd. “What an interesting turn of events. She does not wish to marry you.”

  “Can you imagine?” he said.

  “I am obligated to say, ‘no, what woman wouldn’t want you?’”

  “For a mamma who has worked with such vigor this last year and a half to marry off her son, you do not seem to think he is very marriageable.”

  “Don’t get me started on your marriageability. I know you too well.”

  That she did. His mother had no illusions where he was concerned. Yet she loved him nonetheless.

  Her eyes twinkled. “Has it occurred to you that if I had truly decided a particular lady would do that you could not have escaped me?”

  “I think, madam,” Erroll said with care, “that I am glad not to have tested that theory.”

/>   *****

  Early that afternoon, a muffled, angry male voice filtered up the staircase as Eve descended. She slowed, discerned the indistinct reply of a quieter, more composed female voice, then another heated retort from the man. She yanked up her skirts and hurried down the stairs.

  “I said he wasna’ here.”

  Leslie.

  “Out of my way!” the man ordered.

  Eve took the last two stairs and whirled left. With her second step toward the massive foyer, Leslie said, “If you canna’ speak kindly, then leave.”

  A large man towered over her, but she stood her ground, glowering up at him. His head jerked in Eve’s direction. “Who are ye?”

  Eve hurried to the maid’s side. “Miss Eve Crenshaw, my lord.”

  His gaze sharpened on her. “First a maid, then a Sassenach—where is the marquess?”

  “I cannot say, sir. But I am sure we can find him.”

  “I told him the laird is no’ here,” Leslie said with heat.

  “I will speak with the marquess, damn you,” he snarled.

  “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

  Eve and Leslie whirled in unison to face Lord Rushton, who emerged from the hallway directly ahead.

  “Are you the marquess?” the man demanded.

  The earl approached, and Eve grasped Leslie’s arm and pulled her back two paces as he passed them.

  He stopped in front of the man. “I believe it is customary for the visitor to introduce himself.”

  “I am Lord Burns, ye fool.”

  “Lord Rupert Burns?”

  His mouth twisted downward in a deprecating frown. “Rupert is a poor cousin.”

  “I see, and to what do we owe the honor of a visit from his more worthy relation?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  Lord Rushton gave a slight bow. “Erroll MacLean at your service.”

  “Where is your father?”

  “Forgive me, he is indisposed.”

  “I won’t be fobbed off to a bastard,” Burns spat.

  “Ah,” Lord Rushton said. “You have me confused with my brother Ash. He is the one born on the wrong side of the blanket, not I. Sadly, he isn’t here either, so you are stuck with me.”

  The man blinked, this time clearly a little more certain he’d been insulted. Eve, on the other hand, wanted to laugh.