by Tarah Scott
“You would be wrong, Cora. Mark my words, I will marry him.”
Cora’s mouth thinned. “It is one thing to tease a gentleman like Mister Higgins. But even I am not green enough to think I could toy with a man like that gentleman.”
Mackenzie smiled. “See, you recognize that he is not like the other man we typically see. They are nice enough, do not misunderstand, but they lack…backbone.”
“Rest assured, Lord Liam does not lack backbone. A man like that will not stand for your antics, Mackenzie.”
“He was not at all put out by my antics.”
They entered the trees.
“That is only because you are not his wife. Men like a woman with spirit—so long as they are not married to her.”
Mackenzie laughed. “You forget, men fall in love so easily. Much more easily than women. You saw how he ran to my rescue, despite knowing I hadn’t really fallen. Men love to rescue a woman. I’ll let him rescue me as much as he likes. He will fall in love with me and won’t be able to live without me.”
Thunder cracked in the distance as they emerged from the trees.
Cora slanted her a sidelong look. “You had best be careful that it’s not you who falls in love and finds you cannot live without him.”
Chapter Two
From the corner of his eye, Liam saw his brother ride through the gate. An instant later, Ewan pulled rein beside him.
“What happened?”
Liam tilted his head in the direction of the retreating women. “Two young ladies decided to get a look at the Beasts of Blackstone Abbey.”
“I saw you holding her in your arms.”
Liam shrugged. “One of them decided to jump from her horse to garner my attention.”
“Your attention?”
The women entered the trees and Liam swung into the saddle before he met his brother’s curious gaze. “They saw me riding toward the gate. With all the thievery here about, perhaps I’d best ensure they reach home safely.”
“And where is home?” Ewan asked as Liam tapped his horse’s ribs.
“Newborne, if I don’t miss my guess.”
Liam urged the horse into a gallop but slowed when they reached the trees. When he neared the edge of the forest, he glimpsed the women cutting across Newborne land, at least a mile away from the mansion. He snapped the reins and his horse started forward again. This time, he held the beast to a walk.
Slowly, the mansion came into view, with the women never looking back the entire time. Liam shook his head in disbelief. They clearly believed they were impervious to harm while on Newborne land. If he were a brigand, he could come upon them in seconds.
They continued to the stables and Liam turned south toward the mansion. He reached the door and tied his horse to a post as the heavens opened and rain poured down. He jerked his sketchpad from the saddlebag, stuffed the book into the front of his kilt, ducked under the overhang at the door, and banged the knocker three times. Rain poured off the overhang behind him in a symphony of sound. Long minutes passed before the door finally opened and Mister Dobbin, the butler, appeared on the step.
“Come in, sir. Do come in,” he said, waving his hand in invitation.
The man was sixty-five, if he was a day, but quick of mind and body, and kindly.
Liam stepped into the well-lit foyer and then cocked a rueful glance at the puddle forming beneath his feet. “I’m getting your floor wet, Dobbin.”
The butler smiled. “Think nothing of it, sir. It’s my fault for taking so long to answer the door. With the rain, I didn’t hear the knock. If one of the young maids hadn’t told me she spied a stranger at the door, you might be standing there still.” With a critical eye, he surveyed Liam from head to toe. “You need to dry off. A brandy and fire are in order. Please follow me.”
Before Liam could reply, the butler spun and started down the hallway. Liam took three quick paces to catch up with him. “There is no need to go to any trouble, Dobbin. I am here to see Viscount Dunn. I promised to deliver the drawings for the proposed storehouses and the new stables.”
“Never fear, Lord Liam, I will fetch him.”
“Ye need no’ call me Lord Liam,” he said. “Liam will do.”
“There are many things I can do, sir. That is not one of them.”
Liam laughed. “Of course, you can.”
They turned a corner and ascended stairs to the third level. Dobbin showed him to the library where a welcome fire burned in the hearth. Liam crossed to the hearth and withdrew his sketch pad from the folds of his breacan. A few drops of rain spattered the cover, but the pages were dry. He set the book on the divan to the left of the hearth, then froze when his gaze caught on the flames.
Muskets flared with flame and acrid powder smoke burned his nostrils. Liam tightened his grip on his sword and dove left as a cannonball soared past. He rolled onto his feet and swung his sword up just in time to block an enemy sword. The bone-crushing blow reverberated down his arm and jarred his teeth.
Liam swung his sword in an arc, threw off his attacker’s blade, then drove his sword into the man’s throat. Blood spurted across Liam’s face. Bile scorched his throat when the man gurgled, then dropped to his knees. Screams pierced his ears. The battle spun around him. His knees weakened—
A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Liam spun. The parlor snapped back into focus. Viscount Dunn stood before him.
“Are you well, Liam?” The man stared, dark eyes grave. “Where were you, lad?”
Liam released a breath and relaxed the hands fisted at his sides. “Hell.”
Dunn clapped him on the shoulder. “I have visited there myself.” His hand dropped from Liam’s shoulder and he turned, then crossed to the table located against the right wall. “Brandy or scotch?”
“Scotch, if you dinnae mind.”
“Good man.” He poured scotch from a decanter into two tumblers.
When he returned to Liam, Liam’s legs were steady, and the roar of cannon-fire had receded to a low roar in the darker recesses of his mind.
Dunn handed him a glass and nodded to the divan in front of the hearth. They sat on opposite sides and Liam sipped his whisky. The velvety burn of the liquor sliding down his throat soothed. The screams receded deeper into the darkness.
“There is nothing to match a good whisky,” Dunn said.
Liam nodded. “This is one of the best I have ever had.”
Dunn grinned. “Distilled not far from here.”
Liam finished the whisky. “Local lads, I take it?”
“Very local.” The viscount finished his drink, then rose and took Liam’s glass. He refilled the glasses, then returned and gave Liam his glass. “I see you brought your sketchpad.” He sat back on the divan.
Liam rose and retrieved the sketchpad. He sat, took another drink, then set the glass on the table in front of the divan and opened the pad.
A murmur of female voices emanated from the hallway. Could these be the two minxes who had accidentally run into him on the road? Dunn’s attention remained on the drawings. Liam picked up his glass, leaned against the divan’s cushions, and took another sip of whisky.
“You are a fine engineer,” the viscount said.
“I know enough to complete these preliminary drawings,” Liam said. “But I am no engineer. As I said when we first spoke, I suggest ye have the calculations reviewed by an engineer.”
“Nonsense,” Dunn said. “I see no flaws in your dimensions or calculations.”
Female laughter intruded upon their conversation. “Never mind,” one of the women said.
Liam recognized that voice.
The other woman replied something he couldn’t discern.
“Trust me,” said the minx who had jumped from her horse in front of Blackstone Abbey.
Liam bit back a laugh. Trust her? He suspected that’s how her companion had ended up standing on the road while he held the wench in his arms. He had to admit, that was the first time a woman had gotten his atte
ntion by jumping off a horse. She was right, she was made of tougher stuff than most women. Which probably meant she was also more dangerous. Her beauty alone could land him in trouble if he wasn’t careful. Liam wasn’t yet certain whether she or the other girl was Dunn’s daughter. Either way, her father would put a stop to an affair de coeur between his daughter and an impoverished second son of a viscount.
The women’s soft footsteps sounded closer. They laughed again, and Liam distinguished the deeper throated laugh of the fair-haired beauty from the other lass. He wondered if they were headed for the parlor, and how they would react upon seeing him. Then their laughter drew closer and they entered the room. Liam kept his face averted.
“Mackenzie,” Dunn said, his attention still focused on the drawings.
Ah, so the girl was Dunn’s daughter.
From the corner of his eye, Liam caught sight of the two women as they rounded the divan. They wore the same riding outfits they’d worn when he’d encountered them on the road. They’d nearly reached the front of the divan. Liam rose, and the two women halted. Mackenzie’s gaze locked with his and she drew a sharp breath.
The other woman cried “Oh!”
Lord Dunn looked up. “Mackenzie, is something wrong?”
She jerked her gaze from Liam’s face to her father’s. “We interrupted you. We should go.”
Dunn waved a hand and returned his attention to the drawings. “Think nothing of it. This is Lord Liam. Liam, my daughter Lady Mackenzie and her friend, Lady Cora.”
Liam bowed. “Ladies.”
Mackenzie stared.
“Was your ride pleasurable?” the viscount asked.
“Uh, yes, Papa. Very pleasurable.”
Liam remained standing.
“Mackenzie, sit down. You are forcing Lord Liam to stand,” the viscount said.
“Of course, Papa.”
To Liam’s surprise, she sat on the chair to the right of her father.
She looked at Lady Cora, who remained rooted to the carpet. “Sit down, Cora.”
The lass blinked. “Nae. I-I should return home.”
Mackenzie frowned. “It is pouring outside. You cannot leave until it stops raining.”
Cora yanked her wide eyes onto Liam. “I— Then… Well, I think we should go to your chambers, Mackenzie.”
“But we have a guest.”
“Guest?” Lady Cora repeated with such apprehension that it took all of Liam’s willpower not to laugh.
Mackenzie smiled innocently at him, then her eyes shifted to the drawing her father studied. “Did you draw this, sir?”
“I did.”
“It is quite good.”
He lifted a brow in surprise. “Do you understand engineering, my lady?”
Her cheeks pinked prettily. “Nae, but I have eyes. The dimensions are perfect.”
Liam wasn’t certain if she really knew anything about numbers or she was simply flirting with him. He angled his head and said, “Thank you.”
“How long will it take to build the new stable?” she asked.
“Two months, I wager,” he replied. “Once the materials arrive, at any rate.”
Her gaze sharpened on him, and he tensed in readiness for whatever plot had clearly taken form.
“Will you be attending the party Mama is hosting next weekend?” she asked.
“Party?” he repeated. “I think not, my lady.”
“Why ever not?” she demanded. “Mama’s parties are the finest outside of Inverness.”
“I imagine the party is for your mother’s closest friends,” he said. “Quite understandable, of course.”
“Nonsense.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone in the area is invited. Oh dear.” Her eyes widened. “You did receive an invitation?”
“As I said, the party is likely for Lady Dunn’s closest friends.”
She looked at her father. “Papa, I am correct, am I not? Lord Liam should have received an invitation?”
“Of course,” the viscount replied, clearly distracted.
Liam wondered if the man had heard his daughter’s question.
“Everyone at Blackstone Abbey is invited, of course,” Mackenzie continued as she faced him once more. “I helped Mama write the invitations.” She frowned. “Mama will have to have a talk with Mister Dobbins to discover why our invitations are not reaching everyone. I wonder if there are others who did not receive them.”
“You need not worry on that account,” Liam said. “I feel certain everyone who should have received an invitation has received one.”
Determination darkened her gaze. “Papa, you must instruct Lord Liam to attend the party. It would be terribly rude of us to leave him and his companions out of the fun.”
This time, Liam couldn’t halt the smile that tugged at his lips. The minx was clearly accustomed to having her way.
Lord Dunn didn’t look up.
“Papa.” His daughter shook his arm.
Dunn frowned and looked up.
“Tell Lord Liam that we did not intent to be rude. It was a mistake that he did not receive the invitation. He must attend the party.”
Dunn looked at Liam. “I beg you, if nothing else then for my peace of mind, you and your brother—”
“Do not forget the other two gentlemen at Blackstone Abbey,” Lady Mackenzie cut in. “It would not do to leave them out.”
Dunn quirked a brow. “As I said, for my peace of mind, you must all accept the invitation.”
He had no intention of attending a party at Newborne—particularly with this spoiled goddess in attendance. But he nodded, and said, “I shall convey the invitation to everyone at Blackstone.”
“We shall send another invitation,” the lass said, clearly pleased with herself.
“Mackenzie,” Lady Cora said under her breath, “we must go.”
“Perhaps it is best if you go,” Dunn said. “Lord Liam and I have business to conduct.”
Liam expected her to balk—and get her way. But she stood and curtsied prettily. “Lord Liam, we look forward to seeing you and the other gentlemen next Saturday night.” She pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek, then grasped Lady Cora’s hand and left.
A murmur filtered to them as Liam sat down, but he couldn’t discern the words. He wagered that Lady Cora wanted to know if he was going to tell Lord Dunn he had seen them on the road. He should tell the man, but, for some unknown reason, didn’t.
Chapter Three
“Have you lost your senses?” Cora demanded when Mackenzie closed the door to her chambers. “Inviting him to a party? What party, by the way? I don’t recall receiving an invitation for a party.”
Mackenzie stripped off her pelisse and tossed it over a nearby chair, then flopped down on the settee near the window and began unlacing her boots. “That is because there is no party—yet.”
“What?” Cora hurried to the settee and sat beside her. “You invited him to a party that does not exist? You have lost your senses. Your parents will never allow you to attend a dinner party with only that gentleman in attendance.”
“Do not be ridiculous.” Mackenzie set aside her right boot and began unlacing the left. “There will be many other guests.”
“Many other guests at a party that is less than a week away? And what of your mamma? She will never agree to host a party so soon. We both know how much she prides herself on hosting good parties.” Cora shook her head. “That fall from your horse addled your brains. We must call a doctor.”
Mackenzie got the second boot off, then stood and began unbuttoning her dress. “Come, you must change into a dress. You know that blue linen of mine you love so well? You can wear that one.”
Cora shook her head. “I must return home.”
“Can you not hear the pounding of the rain on the window? If the rain doesn’t stop, you will be forced to stay the night.”
“Mamma will worry.”
“She will not, as you know full well. You always stay when the weather is bad.”
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Cora remained motionless, her mouth a thin line.
Mackenzie sat beside her. “He is frightfully handsome. Do you not agree?”
“There are plenty of handsome men around.”
“True, but few as handsome as he. And he was wearing his kilt. Did you see his calves?”
Cora looked at her, eyes narrowed. “That is very naughty of you, Mackenzie. A lady is not supposed to look at a man’s legs.”
“It is hard not to see them when they are in plain sight,” she replied. “Our parents would have us act as if we are stupid and do not have eyes.”
“His calves were well formed,” Cora admitted.
Mackenzie’s eyes sparkled. “It would be exciting to see all his companions at the party, all dressed in kilts.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “This plot is precarious, even for you. How do you expect to talk your mother into hosting a party six days hence?”
She grinned. “You are going to help me.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mackenzie strolled into the Gold Parlor, arm linked with Cora’s. Mackenzie’s mother sat at a card table with three other ladies. By the looks of the cards, she guessed they played whist, but they held the cards loosely in their hands and were clearly more interested in talking—gossiping, to be more precise.
Mackenzie and Cora approached the table and her mother looked up. “Dears, how lovely to see you.”
Mackenzie released Cora and they both curtsied.
“I am relieved to see that you arrived home before the rain,” her mother said. She smiled. “Cora, I suspect you will be staying the night.”
“I hope you ladies do not plan to brave this rain,” Mackenzie said.
“Absolutely not,” her mother said. “I have already instructed Dobbin to prepare rooms for my guests.”
Mackenzie was not the least bit surprised. Nearly empty sherry glasses sat before each of the ladies. If she knew her mother—and she did—those were their second glasses of the sweet liquor.
“I am relieved,” Mackenzie said. “Are you ladies taking this opportunity to plan Saturday’s party?”
