“Later, my lady, you’ll have to explain to me who everyone is,” Lord something or other said next to her.
“Of course, my lord.” She nodded her head as the introductions began again. At least, as soon as these were done, she could retire to her room and change this infernal dress. Though she’d never admit that out loud and especially not in front of Lord Rotheport. While she’d only known him for a few moments, she hated that man.
James watched as the ladies made their way up the stairs, Lady Ainsley moving at the back of the group as she attempted to lift her sodden skirts out of the way to maneuver the steps. The other pretty blonde, Agnes, he thought he’d heard someone call her, hung back to help her, lifting the soggy fabric so she could walk. He bit back a laugh, he had to give the little hen credit on one account, she held her head high even as she struggled.
The dress, the ridiculous dress, did highlight every rounded curve of her sumptuous little figure and he noted that Callum had kept the little chit’s hand tucked in his elbow. Let him have that vane little hen. He knew her type. She’d strut around, showing her feathers just for the attention she got. He was all too acquainted with a woman like that. But he pushed the memory aside. It was best left alone.
His eyes drifted briefly to Agnes. She was the type of woman he was looking for. If he was even really looking. Which he hadn’t been. Not for a long time, anyhow. Even simple dalliances became too complicated for his liking.
He would marry someday, as was his obligation as Earl. Though his uncle, who had raised him, hadn’t taught him much, obligation was one virtue that had been instilled in him. Therefor he would marry someday, as was required, and that woman would be kind, sweet, hardworking, and above all, a committed mother. That was the most important trait.
But Agnes, it would seem, was not available. The eyes of Laird McKenna were trained on him and as he looked at the other man, McKenna’s gaze was hard, his stance wide, his arms crossed. There could be no doubting it, Agnes was his and he’d fight the man who tried to take her.
Which was fine with James. He wasn’t seriously considering marriage anyway. It was a far off notion, like old age, and retirement. Though not quite thirty years of age, technically he’d supposed he’d retired from the army already.
“It’s good to see ye again,” Callum clapped Ewan on the back and then Keiran.
“Ye as well,” Keiran answered, finally looking away.
“How do ye ken each other?” James asked.
Callum nodded at them. “We were in the same regiment until I was transferred to yers.”
“Christ,” Keiran murmured. “They sent all of Scotland to fight that war.”
James gave a small chuckle. He liked Keiran immediately. A man should stand strong and Keiran seemed like just that type. “Aye, they did.”
“How do ye fare?” Callum asked. “Finding yer way after all that?”
James noted the sadness hidden in that question. Callum didn’t talk about it very often but the war had left a weight upon him. James didn’t carry that same burden. His entire life had been difficult. War was just another chapter to him.
“Better every day,” Keiran’s answer did not brag. It was soft and full of promise. “Agnes has really helped.” Keiran’s eyes drifted back to James, some of the hardness, returning even as he spoke to Callum. “How about you?”
Callum didn’t answer immediately and when he did his answer was vague at best. “I’ve filled my time with one adventure after the other, thanks to Captain McPherson.”
James raised a brow. “Filled yer time?”
Callum groaned in response. “Do not tell me yer big oaf feelings have been hurt. It’s not like I’ve done what Keiran or Ewan have. This one with a baby…” he pointed at Ewan. “And the other newly betrothed.”
James raised his brows in surprise. Callum had never mentioned wanting a wife or a family, though it was obvious now.
“Speaking of betrothals.” Lord Clearwater cleared his throat and turned to Keiran. “I can assume that in my absence you reached an agreement with Lord Dumfries.”
“I did, my lord.” Keiran shifted from one foot to the other looking to Ewan.
Ewan gave a knowing grin. “Keiran has graciously offered a parcel of land located where our two properties meet for both you and Agnes’s mother to build homes on if ye’d like.”
Keiran took a partial step forward. “I will build Mrs. Faulkenberry’s home, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “But with both Agnes and Clarissa here, we thought ye might like a place of yer own to stay.”
James tried not to roll his eyes. Though he had met Agnes for just a few short minutes, she did seem like a woman with fine qualities. Still, Keiran seemed to be going through a great deal of effort. Giving up land, building her mother a home. Bloody hell, men became ridiculously foolish over love.
Lord Clearwater gave a curt nod. “We can discuss the details when I review the contract. For the moment, we’ve a more pressing matter to discuss.”
Keiran made a face. “My marriage is a pressing matter.”
Now it was getting interesting. While he didn’t like watching a man twist himself in knots over love, he did enjoy watching him fight for it.
The baron did not answer as he turned back to Ewan. “Captain McPherson’s ship was damaged in the storm. He’ll need time to repair it.”
“Of course,” Ewan gave a curt nod. “Let’s continue this conversation in the library, shall we?” He gestured up the stairs as he turned and started up them.
The other men followed behind, and James had a look around. It was a gracious home, but he could see that things were a bit tarnished. Worn at the edges.
He rather liked it. It added an air of comfort to the place but it also showed that the earl’s finances were likely strained.
It was surprising only because the baron was well known for his financial success. He would have expected Clarissa’s dowry to be ample.
James suppressed another grin. This visit got more interesting by the moment.
They entered the library and Ewan crossed to a cabinet on the far side of the room. Opening the doors, he reached in and pulled out a decanter and several crystal glasses. He didn’t ask any of the men if they’d like one, he simply filled them with a lovely amber whisky and then passed them about. Raising his cup, he toasted the men. “To Ava.”
The others each raised their glasses in response. “To Ava,” the replied. James remained silent.
Ewan drained his glass and then turned to James. “Lord Rotheport,” he began.
“Just Rotheport, or better yet, McPherson, if you please.”
“What is it with you Scots and your surnames?” Lord Clearwater rolled his eyes.
Ewan ignored his father-in-law, though James saw his fingers tighten upon his glass. “McPherson, you are welcome to stay here, of course. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”
James waved his hand. “If it’s all the same to you, while I appreciate your offer, I’d be just as content to stay in a nearby village. The repairs will require me to keep long hours.”
Ewan grimaced. “The nearest village is at least an hour’s ride from here.”
Hell and damnation. He silently cursed. “Then I would be honored to accept you’re offer of hospitality.”
Ewan gave a nod but James saw his lips turn down and he bit back a sigh. If Ewan didn’t want him here, he shouldn’t have offered.
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Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It was inevitable that at the age of 18, she headed off to Simmons College, where she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.
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A Scot's Surrender_Scottish Historical Romance Page 12
