“What?” Rose asked, shuffling her feet to try to regain her balance.
“I said,” Ram repeated, “We have to talk. I’ve something to tell you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Ram snatched the hand she’d used to deliver a well deserved slap to his face before she could withdraw it and flounce away. “Don’t be like that, sweets,” he said. “I’ve explained that this is simply a situation to be considered from all sides.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth to plant a tender kiss on her fingers.
She leaned over and chomped down on the hand holding hers, achieving her freedom along with a cheer that didn’t come from Ram, who turned white and hurled the foulest oath he knew.
She ignored the cheer and the lairds giving it and balled her little hand into a fist. “You’ve explained that you’re betrothed to two women. Marriage to one will gain your clan more money than a King could spend and bluebirds of happiness will do the Highland Reel at your meal each morning.”
“Those bluebirds will do better in the garden, lass. There are things a man doesn’t want to find in his oats of a morning,” Hugh said.
“Can we train them to do a sword dance as well?” David asked.
“If ye dinna leave this instant I’ll do some real sword dancing for you, but you will find it more fatal than fun,” Ram ordered the interlopers before thrusting a hand through his hair and silently asking for help and patience enough to deal with a purely pissed off woman he didn’t–yet–want to send packing. He put both hands on her shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. “Sweets…”
“And marriage to your extra betrothed won’t give you a thing you can’t get by carrying her to an ancient pavilion and having your way with her!” Rose delivered a punch to his gut with her last word, a strong one from such a wee thing. Ram spent too long admiring her for that because she had time to cock back her other hand and deliver a second blow.
“Hell’s bells,” he swore, grabbing her fists. “Hush. I’ve nae had my way with you yet.”
Hugh laughed while David stepped close to the captive lady, leaned down, and sniffed. “I’m thinking Ram’s telling us a Banbury Tale, Hugh.” David leaned over again, far too close for Ram’s comfort, nearly planting his nose in Rose’s neck as he said, “She smells of him in an afterwards kind of way.”
Ram let go of one of her shoulders to confront the interlopers. He kept a firm hold on her forearm as he addressed his supposed friends. “Stay the hell away from her, both of you, but especially you, David. Keep your famed charm for less committed ladies.”
Rose planted her fingernails in Ram’s detaining hand, loosening his grip enough to allow her to jerk her arm away. She nearly flew to the portal, pausing only long enough to snort and say, “You, sir, have better odds of finding one of Coleridge’s albatrosses than in finding a lady less committed than me.”
“Damnation, Rose –“ Ram barreled after her, intent on explaining until she understood, but he didn’t get farther than the two men who planted themselves in his path. He threw an elbow at Hugh, but the bastard deflected it.
“Hold, Ram,” David said. “Let her be for now. Both of you need time to calm down before all that heat incinerates any choice you might make.”
“Of a sudden you’re mighty interested in pushing a match you disdained earlier today,” Ram said. “Why is that, I wonder?”
“She’s a tempting piece and you’re too good a friend to expect me to play hypocrite and deny that,” David said. “Besides, you’ve now maneuvered yourself into a tangle with Laird MacKenzie, Flora and her overprotective brothers. If that proves too strong a tie to cut, as it may, then I’d have first place in the line of Lady Rose’s suitors.”
“First place?” Hugh roared the question before Ram could swallow the slice of truth David just shoved down his throat. “I’m thinking you meant to say second place. Why would Lady Rose want to wed such a poor strategist as yourself, David?”
“Poor strategist?” David snapped. “Should I count the bodies I have on my sword for you now, Hugh? Mayhaps, you must be added to their number afore ye recognize your error.”
“Poor strategist,” Hugh replied. “You’re hung by your own words with that label. What need would Ram have of a line of suitors when his best friends stand ready to assist in his time of need?”
“What if my need was for a suitor for Flora?” Ram asked.
Silence passed as an answer and when it stretched beyond awkward, David and Hugh shuffled their feet and cleared their throats until finally David snapped the reply Ram didn’t want.
“Now see here,” David said, “Both of us are passing fond of Flora. We love her like a sister. But if ye’re looking for suitors for the lass, well, if ye survive that battle with Dair and his sons, then ye best seek other candidates.”
“Speaking of your upcoming battle, ahm, decision,” Hugh said. “We didn’t come out to spy on you and the lady–as much fun as that turned out to be–we came to tell you that Laird MacKenzie sent a messenger to advise that he, his sons and Flora will be here tomorrow.”
“Early tomorrow,” David added.
“Damnation,” Ram swore, although the news was hardly a surprise. “By the way, how long were you two spying, anyway?”
David bent over and picked up the length of wool Ram snatched from Rose’s bodice earlier. He pressed it to his nose. “It smells of her,” he said. “I’d be tempted to keep it if ye didn’t have a more pressing need for it just now.”
“How so?” Ram asked, refusing to name the emotion he felt at the thought of the lads having watched long enough to have seen him toss that fabric.
David threw him the strip of the Sutherland tartan. “You need this to cleanse yourself.”
“So I do,” Ram replied.
The interlopers headed away, but Hugh paused at the door. “Try not to look proud of yourself as you perform the task.”
Ram cackled and after the lairds left, used the fabric to sop up the milky white trail from the insides of his legs before lifting his kilt and passing it over his crotch. He whistled while he worked, feeling not a’tall abashed. Yes, Hugh named the emotion for him–pride.
Unmanned, proud of it, and damned tickled that Rose’s would-be suitors were aware of events in the pavilion, Ram tucked the cloth in his pocket and headed for the castle. His good mood didn’t last all the way to the door, because three elders waited in the garden. They insisted on a discussion–but, at least ‘twas a Scottish version of a discussion. Unfortunately, ‘twas the tragic trio–Dingwall, Gormal and Grannd.
“Gentlemen,” Ram said, inclining his head respectfully, though he’d rather be head-butting his way past them.
“Ye sent the English invader packing?” Grannd asked.
“No,” Ram replied.
“Not yet, ye mean.” Dingwall said.
“I said what I meant,” Ram replied, shoving past while the trio made disgusted lip-smacking noises.
With a handful of words, well-chosen sounds and a gesture from Gormal, the elders sent Ram a potent reminder of his duty. Because he had no defense against that truth except his growing belief of an inner one that attested to his late father’s wisdom, Ram didn’t reply. Emotion held no sway with them and ‘twas difficult to argue with men motivated solely by the clan’s best interests.
As Laird Sutherland, he should applaud those motives, be in lock-step with the men and their plans. But he wasn’t all laird and until Rose arrived, he hadn’t known that. He didn’t want to know it now.
The man hadn’t interfered with the laird up till now. Ram would just shove the horny bastard back into his hidey hole. Yes, he would. Armed with that resolution, he went upstairs, undressed and lay in bed, pondering how he’d explain all this to Dair MacKenzie and his sons on the morrow. Flora? He could handle her with a smile and a soft word.
Rose? Her he’d like to handle with a hot look and a hard hand–or a hard something, anyway. ‘Twas hard now. ‘Twould be less so if he removed hi
s nose from the pillow. Or if he pulled out that damned scrap of tartan he shouldn’t have tucked under his pillow in the first place. The laird hadn’t done that.
Still, he could forgive himself for his seasamh-boid. Both men and lairds got hard at the memory of cavorting with a lovely lass. What he couldn’t forgive, explain or even believe was the organs gone soft–no laird could lead a clan with a soft head or a soft heart.
He had to put a stop to his eroding will and the only way to do that was by affirming his betrothal to Flora. That would save him from himself, secure his clan’s future and keep Dair MacKenzie from changing into a dangerous enemy. ‘Twas the solution–the only solution.
Despite his firm resolve, Ram didn’t pull the tartan out from beneath his pillow and fell asleep surrounded by two scents that seemed to belong together.
***
Before he faced Dair MacKenzie, his resolve faced a host of dreams that shouldn’t have felt like nightmares. They were of Rose courted by David and Hugh while he stood by, chaperoning, with Flora on his arm. He kept waking in a cold sweat or screaming–and most times both–before one of them walked down the aisle with Rose.
In the cold light of day, freshly dressed and downing his morning cup of the bracing, bitter coffee he far preferred to tepid tea, Ram read the note for the second time.
Laird: The MacKenzie and his family arrived just after midnight. We placed them in suitable rooms and you can expect them at breakfast in the morning. Given the situation, the elders thought you should be prepared. Laird MacKenzie and his sons seemed snappish. Lady Flora was in turns sad and giddy, as is her wont. I believe that Ned will brief Lady Rose this morning as well.
Ram’s first response was as instinctive as ‘twas inappropriate. At first reading, his brain overlooked all the important lines of the note because the last line kindled such a volatile brew of rage, envy and dictatorial stubbornness. He should’ve brought this news to Rose. As her fiancé, it was his place to inform and advise her–never mind the slap she’d warmed his face with last night. He’d earned the slap, on several counts.
How had she fared overnight? He’d gone quite far with her–too far, unforgivably far. But it still felt right and even necessary that he’d given her that first release. He had to be the one to have that first sight and feel and taste of her, and ‘twould be his forever but it would be hers forever as well. It joined them, that experience and in the aftermath of that, given this news, how would his bright, stubborn, independent lady react?
It took a draft of air from the window blowing the note to bring it back to mind. He should be reasoning how best to explain this to the MacKenzies. More specifically, he should be thinking of how to explain it to the sprite, err–Flora. How the hell would he ever get that nickname out of his head?
Truthfully, Flora was the least of his worries when she should be the greatest.
And so she would be, the laird resolved.
Ram rose and headed downstairs, to greet the family awaiting him. He hadn’t made it all the way downstairs when Michael MacKenzie whistled a warning, pointed at him and shouted, “There he is!”
Dair marched over to flank his youngest son, bringing Graham scurrying to flank his father.
“Keeping English hours these days, lad?” Dair asked.
“Mayhap it wasn’t English hours keeping him occupied this morn, Da,” Michael suggested.
“Have ye been keeping us waiting while you diddled the English, Ram?” Graham asked.
“Not this morning,” David said, walking over to join the gathering, taking a place on Ram’s left while Hugh stood to his right.
“Do not dare discuss Lady Rose in that fashion,” Ram said, in a voice that could’ve frozen the North Sea. “None of you.” His gaze encompassed the room, resting briefly on David, Hugh and each MacKenzie.
Ram couldn’t see himself but no one in the room could miss his expression–a flame kindling in the heart of that icy North Sea.
“Damnation,” Dair said.
“What?” Ram asked. “None of us would tolerate such talk of the sprite either.”
Off to the side, unnoticed and nearly unnoted, Flora sighed, closed her eyes and murmured yet another brief prayer. The seventeen-year-old had prayed for the same thing for the last two years. Despite Ram’s peck at the outer corner of her mouth upon their betrothal, they were betrothed, so Flora had hoped her prayers had finally been answered. Ram’s words put paid to that–he still didn’t see her as a woman.
“Surely you’d not tolerate such talk of my daughter. She is your betrothed, is she not? I may be advancing in years but if my recall of the betrothal agreement waivers, I’ve the document with me,” Dair said.
Rose entered just before Dair started speaking. She tucked herself away on the far side of the room but Ram knew she’d entered before he looked around and found her. He felt her entrance. The atmosphere in the room changed. Then he spotted her, standing alone in a corner wearing a bright yellow gown. He smiled because she brought the sunshine.
“Do you find my comment funny?” Dair asked in a tone ringing with barely suppressed fury.
David and Hugh left Ram’s side, crossing the room to speak to Rose. Ram stiffened and muttered a curse when both men took their time over kisses of her fingers.
When he made himself turn back to face Dair, Ram found Michael in his face, snarling. “What did you call my father?”
Wincing, Ram hastened to say, “Laird MacKenzie, that comment wasn’t directed at you.” It took every ounce of willpower not to look over at the corner and it must’ve taken most of his mental power as well. Long moments stretched with none of the MacKenzie men speaking.
One of the elders had to prompt Ram with a whisper of, “And your response, laird?”
Dear Lord, Ram thought. Dair awaited an answer. If only he could recall the question. Damn, what were they doing over there? Rose was smiling. He hadn’t looked–couldn’t look–but he could feel her smiling. Was that even possible?
The agreement. Something about the agreement. “I recall the document,” Ram said at a length stretched far, far too long.
“We’ve heard some disturbing rumors,” Dair said. “Gossip is rampant that you’ve acquired a second betrothed, an English woman. I’ve come to hear you affirm that you’ll be keeping your word, honoring our agreement and wedding my daughter.”
Dair’s proclamation was as open and straightforward as he, and it left unsaid the threat of retribution should he get any other answer. In these parts that threat was so clear as to be unnecessary. It also presumed that Ram would honor his word. To assume otherwise would be an insult.
The muffled giggle wasn’t loud enough to carry across the large chamber–unless you were listening very hard. The little sound drew Ram’s attention faster than a sword. Rose quickly hid her laugh behind her hand and waved a finger at David who grinned in reply. Ram missed none of that as he crossed the room too fast for the eye to follow.
“What’s so funny?” Ram asked.
Rose blinked and swallowed her smile. “Weren’t you just over there–on the important side of the room–with your fiancée?”
Ram seized the finger she’d been wagging at David. “And now I’m over here–on the other important side of the room–with my other fiancée.”
David raised one brow in a gesture he knew Ram despised. “Other fiancée? They’re one per lad surely.”
“That has always been my understanding as well,” Dair said. “And you dashed off before answering my questioned, summoned, I believe, by the sound of an English laugh. This must be the interloper.”
Dair advanced a step in Rose’s direction. “She must not be too bright. She knows that the betrothed she is trying to steal belongs to the MacKenzie’s daughter and yet she is still here.” He smirked at Rose. “Perhaps she’s not the kind to run from danger. Does it excite you, lass? Is English life so dull that you –“
Ram didn’t think. He reacted, throwing an elbow and shoving by Dair to
stand at Rose’s side. His arm wrapped around her waist of its own accord. “Laird MacKenzie, you’ll not speak to Lady Rose with anything other than complete respect. She’s nae to blame. The fault lies with the elders of my clan.”
Harder and less forgiving than steel, Dair respected little but courage, cunning and the strength to use them to increase his wealth or his power. He cared for nothing else on earth save for his clan and his family. Dair and his sons doted upon Flora far past the point of reason. In anything else, in everything else, Ram would expect Dair to be reasonable.
This wasn’t anything else.
“The fault lies not with your elders. It lies in your addiction to an English honey pot,” Dair said.
Ram cradled Rose tighter. “You overstep, MacKenzie.”
“You forget your honor and your duty, Sutherland,” Dair said.
“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Ram said.
“You’ve forgotten your fiancée.” Michael said.
“No, I’ve not,” Ram said. “One of them is right here–and the other is ..” he looked around the room, but didn’t see Flora. “Where is the sprite?”
“I’m right here,” said a strained voice.
Ram had no idea that Flora was right behind him until she spoke up. He extended his free arm. Dair glared at his daughter but Flora walked into his other arm. “There,” Ram said. “Now I’ve both my fiancées.”
“Shall you have two wives as well?” Rose asked.
“I may have to throttle you after all,” Ram replied.
“Leave that task to me,” Michael said, “and we can bury our problem.”
“Touch so much as a hair on her head and I’ll…”
David spoke up, preventing Ram’s rash oath that would’ve plunged them all into a feud that would cost countless lives and destroy the peace of their region for generations. “There’s a less bloody solution to this interesting dilemma. Lady Rose could choose a different husband.” He grinned at Rose and gave her a wicked little wink. “I believe there are at least a couple of candidates present.”
Romancing the Rose Page 6
