The Irresistible Mac Rae

by Karen Ranney

  KAREN RANNEY

  The Irresistible MacRae

  BOOK THREE OF THE HIGHLAND LORDS

  To Mary Gabehart,

  one of the neatest people I know.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  “You’ll marry him,” Mrs. Parker said sternly.

  Chapter 2

  The great hall at Fernleigh was an ugly place, one…

  Chapter 3

  Riona sat beneath a venerable oak, her skirts arranged artfully…

  Chapter 4

  A bigail bobbed in front of her, a smile on…

  Chapter 5

  “Supper is to be held in the red dining room…

  Chapter 6

  “How long is he staying, Mother, and why is he…

  Chapter 7

  Morning came early to Tyemorn. Rosy fingers of light stretched…

  Chapter 8

  Riona led the way, thinking that she should have balked…

  Chapter 9

  Old Ned might look ancient, but he did the work…

  Chapter 10

  “You look very peaceful.”

  Chapter 11

  Maureen watched as her sister made a studied effort to…

  Chapter 12

  One moment his attention was on Riona. The next, he…

  Chapter 13

  A bigail looked as if she were going to cry.

  Chapter 14

  Ayleshire was crowded, the inn filled to the rafters with…

  Chapter 15

  Dinner that night was tasteless, and endless. Riona’s behavior garnered…

  Chapter 16

  Any moment now, the McDermott daughters were going to pinch…

  Chapter 17

  Every year the sluice leading from the River Wye needed…

  Chapter 18

  That was how she awoke, with the touch of James’s…

  Chapter 19

  Riona walked toward the barn, intent on her errand. After…

  Chapter 20

  “Are you all right?” Susanna asked, rushing up and surveying…

  Chapter 21

  The dawn breeze fluttered her skirt around Riona’s ankles, brushed…

  Chapter 22

  “Not like that, miss,” one of the milkmaids said. “Gently,…

  Chapter 23

  “The Witch’s Well is on the other side of the…

  Chapter 24

  Edinburgh sat huddled at the bottom of Castle Rock, two…

  Chapter 25

  The foot races done, the horse fair finished, the final…

  Chapter 26

  “Would Mrs. Parker approve of this celebration?” James asked an hour…

  Chapter 27

  Moonlight streamed down on the two of them as they…

  Chapter 28

  “You look so beautiful, Riona,” Maureen said, an expression of…

  Chapter 29

  Riona had escaped to the village church. In a matter…

  Chapter 30

  In the library, James packed up his quills and ink,…

  Chapter 31

  Inverness, located on the shores of the Moray Firth, sat…

  Chapter 32

  A Wedding was a somber occasion, but nature had decided…

  Chapter 33

  Susanna decided that it would be more proper to move…

  Epilogue

  James toyed with a tendril of Riona’s hair. Curling around…

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by Karen Ranney

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  May 1778

  “Y ou’ll marry him,” Mrs. Parker said sternly.

  “I’ll not,” Riona replied, just as forcefully.

  That had been the extent of their conversation all the way from Edinburgh.

  The world had gone mad; Riona McKinsey was sure of it. Should she forget that fact for even a moment, Mrs. Adelaide Parker, late of London, was there to remind her. The formidable woman sat opposite her in the darkened carriage, her arms folded across her chest, her toes tapping against the floor, her heavy sighs making Riona feel alternately uncomfortable and beyond irritated.

  Mrs. Parker had declined to light the lamps, no doubt reasoning that since Riona was going to perdition she might as well have a taste of it beforehand.

  Riona’s sister sat beside her in the darkness, daintily sobbing into her handkerchief. Of the two of them, Maureen made her feel worse.

  The coach rumbled on, despite the fact that it was a moonless night. Landscape, however, was no obstacle to the re-doubtable Mrs. Parker. She had stared down kings and queens of society. What was a treacherous road in comparison?

  Riona wedged herself more firmly into the corner, using a finger to lift the leather shade. There was no scenery to observe other than shrouded bushes and darkly shadowed trees.

  She should, perhaps, be formulating a plan, thinking of some words to assuage her mother. Her throat was hoarse from speaking blandishments to Mrs. Parker, and attempting to make her see reason.

  Mrs. Parker had declared her ruined, and so she was.

  Her mother, however, was not so devoid of sense as her chaperone. Susanna would see the situation as it was and judge her accordingly.

  Why was it that a woman had to prove herself twice over and a man’s words were taken at face value?

  She’d had absolutely no intention of slipping into the garden with Harold McDougal. Nor would she have willingly remained there and agreed to the ruination of her reputation. But the man had neatly captured her with words. Not those of a romantic nature, but of a sisterly one.

  “My dear Miss McKinsey, your sister is in the garden, weeping. Could you not lend her your aid?”

  She’d not thought twice. Maureen had been emotional of late, believing herself in love with the dashing Captain Hastings. To make matters worse, the young man had not been able to attend the gathering that evening, being newly posted to Fort George. She’d seen Maureen dabbing at her eyes herself, and never thought twice about going to her side.

  Except that Maureen was not in the darkened garden sitting on a stone bench.

  She whirled on Harold, only to have him grip her bare arm with his damp hand. Deliberately, she pulled away.

  “I have been captivated by you from the first, Miss Mcinsey. Say you feel the same and I’ll be the happiest man in all the world.”

  “I have met you on but two occasions, sir,” she said. “Have I given you any indication that such familiarity would be welcome?”

  “You have smiled at me, Miss McKinsey.” His voice was low and soft and no doubt meant to be seductive. Instead, it was merely repellent. “And I have been fascinated by the sparkle in your beautiful eyes. I have never been privileged to see such a shade of silver before.”

  “They are gray,” she said flatly. “A simple gray.” She took the precaution of stepping backward.

  “I would have you know of the respect and admiration I feel for you.”

  Holding up one hand, palm toward him, she hoped to stop his advance, but like most ardent suitors, however, he heard encouragement in her words and coyness in her silence.

  “I have startled you with my impetuousness,” he said. “There is but one cure for it, my dearest Miss McKinsey. We must marry.”

  She was in Edinburgh to attract a husband, and the fact that she possessed a legacy from her mother’s great aunt made the task less onerous than it might once have been. Riona was under no illusions as to her attractiveness, since the attention paid her was in direct proportion to rumors of her dowry.

  None of the men she’d met had made her daydream as Maureen did
over Captain Hastings, or sigh in wonder at the thought of living with him all the days of her life. Not one man stood apart from any other. Not even Harold, although she was beginning to think that he would forever be memorable for the sheer tenacity of his suit.

  “I thank you for the honor of your declaration, sir,” she said by rote. One of many lessons she’d learned from Mrs. Parker.

  Taking one step back, Riona encountered the trunk of a large tree. Harold wasted no time placing one hand at either side of her waist. She didn’t feel threatened by him as much as annoyed, an emotion that only grew as he leaned down and breathed against her cheek.

  “I’ll love you for eternity,” he said, panting heavily. She pushed against him, but he didn’t budge.

  Suddenly, he reached out with one hand and squeezed her breast, for all the world as if he’d found a peach to pluck. She slapped him away, but he refused to stop pawing her.

  “You have a passionate nature. I’ve seen evidence of it in your eyes, Riona.”

  Raising her slipper, Riona stomped on his boot, but it seemed to have no effect on him at all. He only leaned forward and tried to kiss her in response.

  Most of her life had been spent in Cormech, a small coastal town, as the daughter of a widowed woman. She’d learned early how to protect herself. Riona raised her knee and assaulted him.

  When she’d returned to the others, irritated and beyond angry at Harold, the guests had stopped speaking. Instead, they’d begun to stare at her, the murmuring growing as the moments passed. She looked down at herself to find that the lace on her bodice had been torn. Three dozen people immediately viewed her as a harlot, and what was worse, according to Mrs. Parker, they were correct in their assumption. Although she was as chaste and virtuous as the day she was born, Riona was ruined.

  Yet Mr. Harold McDougal, guilty of being a liar, an abductor, and a man with busy fingers and intrusive hands, was seen as innocent, overcome by a passion she had deliberately incited.

  Which was why she was now sitting here in disgrace on her way back home to Tyemorn Manor, with Harold in a carriage following them.

  A rider had been sent on ahead with word of their arrival. Riona could only imagine what her mother was going to say when she returned from Edinburgh in disgrace. Susanna was not overly reticent in her opinions.

  It was all Great Aunt Mary’s fault, Riona thought sourly.

  Until a year ago, they had been living a quiet existence in Cormech. But then the elderly woman had died and left her mother a manor house, a series of farms, and a significant fortune, along with a bequest to both daughters. For that reason, her mother had invested a goodly amount of money in the employment of Mrs. Parker, a woman of excellent reputation who was rumored to have been behind some of the best matches made in Edinburgh in the past five seasons.

  The Englishwoman’s duty had been to groom Riona and Maureen for presentation to Edinburgh’s eligible men. At times, Riona felt like a suckling pig, delivered up for the delectation of any man with a good family name, a favorable appearance, and an offer.

  The fact that the woman had accomplished part of her goal was evident in Maureen’s silent grief. The young captain in the Fencible Regiment had fallen as desperately in love with her sister as she him.

  Evidently, however, Captain Samuel Hastings was the last male descendant of a long and distinguished line. Despite the fact that the coffers were empty, the Hastingses prided themselves on their great lineage. Any hint of scandal would quash the hope of a betrothal between Maureen and Samuel more effectively than poverty.

  She was not a terrible person, Riona thought, only one trapped in circumstance. Was that a reason to ruin the rest of her life?

  These past few days she’d thought of nothing but marriage. Her father had died when she was young, but she could still recall the sounds of his boots tapping on the stairs or echoing on the upstairs floor. He had a voice so low that it sounded as if a pond of bullfrogs had taken up residence in his chest. There had been amusement and joy in their house, great guffaws that made her wonder if God laughed, and if He did, would the sound be the same?

  Sometimes, she and Maureen had sat on his lap, perched on either leg with his arms wrapped around their backs while he told them stories of places he wanted to see. Wanderlust, her mother had called it. Dreams, he would say. But they would always share a look and a smile. Despite her father’s frequent absences, it was a happy home, made even more so on his return.

  More than once, she’d interrupted a heated kiss between her parents, and sometimes, at night, she would fall asleep to the sound of their voices in the parlor as they talked of subjects too grand for a ten-year-old girl to understand.

  That was the kind of marriage she wanted. One of perfect accord, of friendship, perhaps. What kind of marriage could she expect with a man who thought so little of her as to trap her this way?

  The coach abruptly shifted, the angle indicating that they were traveling uphill now. Tyemorn Manor was situated in the bowl of a glen with lush farmland all around. A few moments later, Riona peered from behind the curtains again, this time viewing the blur of lights as they neared the manor house.

  Her prayer was easily summoned. Please let her mother’s good sense prevail over Mrs. Parker’s outraged sensibilities or Maureen’s grief.

  The coach slowed before the house. Mrs. Parker was the first to disembark. Before leaving the vehicle, Riona turned and stared into the shadows at Maureen. Her sister remained silent, no more communicative now than she’d been during the entire journey.

  “Do you think I should marry him?”

  Nothing but silence.

  “Tell me truthfully.”

  “I cannot, Riona,” her sister said faintly. “Your future is tied to my own happiness. It would not be fair for me to tell you what to do. You must make your own choice.”

  “Even if it makes you miserable?”

  Another pause. “Yes,” Maureen said finally.

  Riona left the carriage, fervently wishing that her sister wasn’t such a very nice person.

  The knock was loud enough to be heard on the second floor of the manor house.

  “They’re here, mistress,” Polly said.

  Polly’s soft blue eyes looked worried as she chewed on her bottom lip.

  The woman was past the first blush of youth, her shape once as rotund as an apple. Over the past year, however, she’d lost weight. Along with the reduction in her girth had come a new nervousness. She was constantly wringing her hands or tapping her foot. Once, she’d worn her hair tucked neatly into a bob behind her head. Since she’d come to Tyemorn Manor, however, the style was more severe, pulling at Polly’s temples until her blue eyes appeared forever startled.

  Susanna McKinsey calmly finished tidying her hair as Polly fidgeted beside her, first standing on one foot, then the other. With the ease of practice, Susanna ignored her, finally moving her brush to where it belonged on the lace-covered dressing table.

  Staring at herself in the mirror, she surveyed her appearance. Her face was narrow, but relatively unlined. Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Maureen’s. Her chin was, perhaps, too pointed. There was nothing at all she could do about her high forehead and widow’s peak except ensure that her hairstyle was flattering. Her lips, in better times, were acceptable, she supposed. At the moment, however, they looked thin, almost disappearing into her face. As if she were as worried as Polly.

  “I’m in no hurry to greet them, Polly,” she admitted. “I cannot imagine what Riona has done.”

  “Nothing, I’ll wager,” Polly said loyally. “That Mrs. Parker grates on the nerves, she does. No doubt our Riona simply had enough.”

  “She was never a wild child.” Susanna met Polly’s gaze in the mirror. “In fact, of the two girls, Riona was always the more responsible.”

  “Well, something’s happened, that’s for sure, else the woman wouldn’t have sent you that letter.”

  Mrs. Parker’s note still remained on the top
of her dressing table, having been delivered only a few hours ago. The contents left nothing to the imagination as far as the woman’s feelings about her older daughter. The only thing lacking from the missive was the exact nature of Riona’s failing.

  The knock came again, imperious and impatient. Susanna sighed and stood.

  “Your daughter is a wayward young woman,” Mrs. Parker said a few moments later as she sailed over the threshold.

  As a greeting, it was terse and to the point, Susanna thought, following the woman into the parlor.

  “How is she wayward?”

  Mrs. Parker resembled a plump crow in her severe black. No, not a crow, but a disapproving bird of prey with an angled beak and beady, focused eyes.

  Susanna managed to compose herself, standing with hands folded decorously in front of her as both her daughters entered the room. There wasn’t time for a greeting because Mrs. Parker raised her hand and shook her finger in Susanna’s face. “If you do not curtail her now, she will ruin everything we have worked so hard to achieve. My reputation is at stake, madam.”

  “What has she done?” she asked, glancing at Riona.

  “Allowed a young man the freedom of her person.”

  Susanna sat heavily on one end of the settee, the fingers of one hand clenched around the brooch at her neck. “Is this true, Riona?” she asked her elder daughter.

  Riona said nothing in response, a telling absence of explanation. Mrs. Parker nodded, appearing vindicated, while Maureen, who’d come to sit beside her, looked merely miserable. Her eyes were reddened from weeping, and her hands clutched a sodden lace handkerchief.

  “Tell me the whole story,” she said, turning to Mrs. Parker once more.