Ewan sighed. “Unless ye want to see her suffer a similar fate as her sister, ye have to marry her, Cail. I had to scare away two drunken men.”
Cailean shook his head as he sank to his haunches. “I can’t. Not again.”
Ewan swiped at his mouth. “Whoever marries her is a lucky man. While I waited with her, she fed me some of her day-old cookies.” He winked at Alistair. “She must keep a stash for herself. Served me a cup of tea too.” He sighed with pleasure.
Cailean growled at him and paced away.
“Ye have to know, if ye dinna want a woman like her, many will.” Ewan met his eldest brother’s glare. “An’ I don’t mean like her sister. She’s smart, funny, an’ a businesswoman. Any man with sense would want to marry her.”
Alistair shared a long look with Ewan as Cailean remained silent. “Think about it over tonight. Come tomorrow, ye need to have a plan.”
Chapter 6
Cailean stood on the back porch as the dusky rose of dawn lightened the sky and brought the subtle curves of the mountains into focus. Low-lying clouds glimmered with the changing light as the sun attempted to peak over the horizon. Soon a soft golden glow lit the sky.
He took a long sip of coffee as his mind drifted to a red-haired woman, fiery yet patient, curious yet cautious, who had loved him since he had first been able to consider himself a man. “Maggie,” he whispered to the soft breeze. His eyes fluttered closed as he thought of her laughter, her teasing, her indignation, her anger, and her passion. Her steadfast love for him. Her absolute honesty in expressing how she felt. “God, how I miss you.” He rubbed at his chest and bowed his head.
After a few more minutes, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He tossed the remnants of his coffee into the yard and left the cup on the windowsill. He walked down the steps and into town, thankful that many of the townsfolk were still asleep after the night’s festivities. He cut down an alley behind Main Street to knock on her back door.
After a minute, he knocked louder. He squinted as he thought he heard movement inside. “Miss Evans, it’s Cailean MacKinnon.” He glared at the door as it remained shut and was about to try the handle when it creaked open.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered through the small opening.
“I must speak with you. Would you prefer to speak in your shop, at my livery, or somewhere else?”
She opened the door a little wider and glared at him. “Seeing as you’ve already traipsed over here for all the townsfolk to see …” She sighed as she motioned for him to enter. She shut the door after him.
He stood, holding his hat between his fingers and studied her. He frowned at the dark circles under her eyes, the faint lines by her mouth that he feared were from frowning rather than laughing, and the distance she maintained between them. “I’m sorry to have caused you difficulties last night, Miss Evans.”
She snorted. “I caused them for myself. Haven’t you noticed that society never blames the man but always the woman? Don’t worry about me. I’ll find a way to survive this.”
“Will you?” he asked. A sharp rapping on the glass door at the front of the store interrupted their conversation.
She motioned for him to stay hidden in the kitchen, out of sight from the front windows, and to remain quiet as she moved toward the insistent knocking. Low murmurs and then indignant protestations were heard before the front door slammed shut.
“What was that all about?” he asked as she entered the kitchen area. He watched as she plopped onto a stool, her customary determination and optimism absent.
“That was the owner of this space. It seems he no longer wants a woman, especially a woman of questionable reputation, to rent his storefront.” She rubbed at her forehead. “He says he’d rather have it empty for the next ten years than to live with the infamy of a woman such as me living and working here.”
Cailean snorted. “Seems small-minded of him when he has three bastard daughters from his mistress.” He shared an amused smile with Annabelle. “His wife hated Montana and returned to Philadelphia a month after they arrived six years ago. His so-called wife here is really his mistress as he’s too miserly to have divorced his first wife and given her any settlement.”
Annabelle’s shoulders stooped. “I know you think that story helps me in some way. All it does is highlight that the world is unjust. Especially toward women.”
Cailean watched her with an intense light in his eyes. “You’re right. It is unjust, and I fear it always will be. Women will be held to a different standard than men for as long as we’re alive. There is no getting around it.” He gripped the edge of his hat with such strength he feared he’d rend it in two. “It’s why you must marry me.”
Annabelle gaped at him and then laughed. “Oh, Mr. MacKinnon, thank you for that joke. It’s just what I needed to lighten my spirit.”
He crossed to her in two strides and gripped her jaw in a firm grasp, yet caused her no pain. Her wide startled eyes met his earnest ones. “I’m deadly serious. You must be protected, and I can protect you. Due to my actions, you are in this predicament. You need to marry.”
“I refuse to marry out of necessity.” She glared at him. “I barely know you, and, whenever we are together, we argue.”
He chuckled. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m certain we’ll drive each other daft.” He looked at her in a challenging way. “Can you deny there are times you haven’t felt safe here?” At her flush, he nodded. “Can you deny that a husband wouldn’t ease your acceptance into the town?” At her glare, he smiled. “Can you deny that there isn’t a speck of attraction between us?” At her gasp, he laughed.
“How dare you turn this into a … a … farce. This is my life. If I marry you, I’m bound to a man I barely know.” She shook her head in defiance, freeing herself from his grasp. “No, I will not marry you.”
He now gripped her shoulders. “Listen to the reasons we should marry. As a married woman, you can continue to work here in the bakery. I have no objections to you working. The extra income is welcome. You’ll have your own home. A family.”
Her gaze lit with disappointment. “It’s your family. Your home. I’ll just be living there.” She bit her lip. “My sister will always be seen as an embarrassment to you and yours, and I can never see her that way. She’s my sister.”
Cailean released her and rubbed a hand over his face. “I understand loyalty to family, Annabelle. I understand wanting to see them well.” He speared her with an intense stare. “It’s why we’re living here rather than in Scotland.”
She fidgeted on her stool and stared at him. “In all of this marriage talk, you never mentioned that you’d come to care for me.”
He froze, his gaze shattered for a moment before he masked the deep emotions. “I will never love you. Not as a woman would wish to be loved. I’ll care for you. Ensure you have all that you need. But I will never love you.”
Annabelle nodded at his emphatic words. “Of course not,” she whispered, hugging her arms around her waist.
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t marry,” he murmured. “If you don’t, you’ll have no reason to remain in town near your sister.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath. “I can’t lose her, not now that I’ve finally found her again.” She swiped at a tear. “I know you think I’m foolish. That the townsfolk think I’m delusional in my belief that I’ll have a relationship with her. That there’s any reason to have a relationship with a fallen woman.” She jutted her chin up in defiance. “But she’s my sister.”
He nodded. “As long as you keep my sister away from her.”
Her bravado faded to disappointment as she watched him. “It’s not a catching disease.” She swiped at her cheeks. “And I notice you aren’t worried about your brothers.” At his silent stare, she shook her head.
“Well, what will it be?” he asked. “Will you remain here, to be evicted and to suffer the town’s ridicule before you’re eventually ru
n out of town, away from your sister, your family? Or will you marry me?”
She slid off the stool and stood tall, looking him in the eye. “I have money of my own. Money from my father. I want …” She faltered a moment. “I want a written agreement from the lawyer in this town that my money will remain under my control after we wed.” She met his shocked glare with one of defiance.
“That’s not how it’s done! And I won’t have you shaming me in front of the townsfolk when word leaks of our agreement.” He ran a hand through his hair and slammed his hat onto the kitchen counter. “I give you my word, as a MacKinnon and as a Scotsman, that your money is yours. I won’t touch it. I refuse to see a lawyer.”
She studied him for a long moment. “How do I know you are just saying that so, when we wed, you can do what you like?”
His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply. “My word is my honor. I’d thank you not to impugn it in the future.” His expression softened when he detected the fear and desperation she attempted to conceal. “I can promise you that I will never attempt to use your money. It’s yours, to do with what you like.” His anger fully eased when he caressed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.
“I’ll marry you,” she whispered, her eyes widening as though shocked at what she had said. She watched him with a touch of wonder and trepidation. At his curious look, she squared her shoulders. “I will. I will wed you.”
He swooped forward and kissed her. Rather than the tentative, gentle kisses from the night before, this kiss was passionate and demanding. He bracketed her face with his palms and pressed his body to hers until she backed up against a far wall. He slanted his mouth for a better angle, deepening the kiss when she gasped.
He groaned with delight when she gripped the back of his shirt and then raised a hand to his nape, tugging him tighter. Her tongue dueled with his, and he gripped her hips to lift her when the distant sound of a door slamming broke them apart. He spun away, muttering a curse as he panted. He walked toward the counter and grabbed his hat, holding it in front of him as he turned to face her. “We’ll wed as soon as it can be arranged, Annabelle.” He nodded to her as she leaned against the wall, also panting. “There is little doubt we’ll suit in at least one department.” He watched with masculine delight as she flushed and then nodded her agreement.
“Good day, Annabelle,” he said with a last long look. He slammed the door behind him.
Leticia arrived at her usual time with Hortence at her side. Little Hortence played in the corner with a doll and a cracked teacup and saucer while her mother worked with Annabelle. After assuring herself that Hortence was settled, Leticia focused on her friend.
“What happened?” she sputtered as she looked at the chaos present in the usually pristine kitchen. Oatmeal bread was rising; sweet buns were still in the oven, and Annabelle had a wild look in her eyes as she stood wrist deep, kneading dough to be turned into rolls.
“I’m behind. I got a late start.” She shook her head as though in self-recrimination and blew at a strand of loose hair that fell in front of her eyes. “I should have some sweet buns ready in about ten minutes for those who show up on time. Otherwise, everyone will have to come back later for bread.”
“Are you making anything else today?” Leticia asked, wrapping an apron around her waist. She sighed when she heard a tapping on the front door. Rather than move to answer the door, she entered Annabelle’s small room. After a moment she emerged with a piece of paper in her hand. She walked to the front door where a few people mingled and smiled broadly.
“I’m afraid we are running behind today, and you will need to return in about an hour,” she called through the glass and smiled vaguely. She crammed the piece of paper, stating Opening Delayed in the space between the door and glass and retreated to the back of the shop.
When she reentered the kitchen, she smiled at Annabelle who stood staring into space. “I’ve bought us an hour, but, if that’s all you’re going to do, it won’t be enough time.”
Annabelle jolted and began kneading again with vigor. She gave the dough a pat, then placed a cloth over the top of it. “With a shortened day today, I won’t plan on much besides the sweet buns, bread, and rolls.”
Leticia washed the bowls and set them to dry. “Did something occur last night at the dance? I had to leave early due to Hortence.”
Annabelle smiled at Hortence playing in the corner. “I saw Mr. MacKinnon carrying her as she slept on his shoulder. He seems like a nice man.”
Leticia’s smile bloomed, unable to hide her delight. “Alistair’s a wonderful man and doesn’t mind that I have a child.”
“Have you set the date yet?” Annabelle asked as she joined Leticia at the sink to wash her hands free of the bread dough.
“I … I want to wait just a little longer to ensure that we suit,” Leticia murmured. “However, I heard there was a scandal last night. Do you know anything about it? Townsfolk were uncharacteristically closemouthed with me today.”
“I’m sure that was out of their regard for you and concern for Hortence,” Annabelle said as Leticia stared at her. “It might also have been due to the fact you work for me. Mr. MacKinnon, I should say, Cailean, and I were caught in a compromising situation.”
Leticia gaped at her friend with wide eyes. After a moment she clamped her gaping jaw shut before battling a grin. “You and Cailean?”
Annabelle glanced over her shoulder to ensure Hortence was not listening and then whispered to her friend. “I went around the side of the schoolhouse to escape all the men requesting a dance, and Cailean followed me to ensure I was all right. I was foolish.” She closed her eyes. “And lonely.”
“You kissed him,” Leticia breathed.
“Yes,” Annabelle admitted, opening eyes filled with shame. “And it was glorious. I’ve never felt so alive before or felt such a desire.”
Leticia frowned as she saw her friend battle her emotions. “There is no shame in feeling passion for a man who feels the same for you, Annabelle.”
“I know he’ll never feel anything for me but passion or desire, and that makes the entire encounter sordid.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned against the counter. “He came here this morning. To propose.”
Leticia gasped. “I never thought Cailean would marry again.”
Annabelle’s head shot up in confusion as she looked at Leticia. “Again? He was married before?”
Leticia bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought you knew, that he would have told you.” When Annabelle shook her head before moving toward the large oven, Leticia sighed. “He was married before he left Scotland. All I know is that she died, and he vowed to never marry again.”
Annabelle nodded as she removed the heavy tray of buns from the oven. She set them on the wooden countertop and sprinkled sweet syrup over the top. “And now I’ve acted in such a way that he’s been forced to break that vow. No wonder he resents me.”
Leticia frowned. “It seems to me that he acted the same as you. That his actions are as much at fault, if there is any fault in this.” She attempted a reassuring smile for her friend. “You are to marry, and you will marry an honorable man. I would give thanks, for few women are as fortunate as you.”
Annabelle shuddered before she tamped down her emotion. “I’m not fortunate. I’ve agreed to tie myself to a man who can barely tolerate me.” She blinked away tears. “I would call that a grave misfortune.”
Leticia watched as her friend focused on setting the buns on a plate for her customers and then placed one batch of bread in the oven. She understood the tumultuous emotions roiling through her friend and gifted her with silence as she worked alongside her before she moved to the front of the store to ward off impertinent inquiries with a smile and a sale.
Cailean entered his home and headed to the kitchen to find his siblings already seated and eating breakfast. A glance at the wall clock showed it was a little past eight. Ewan clutched a cup of coffee as though it p
rovided the elixir of life while Alistair watched Cailean with abject curiosity. He helped himself to a fresh cup of coffee and sat.
“Seems you were up early this morning. Coffee was made before I rose,” Sorcha said with a yawn. At Cailean’s distracted nod, Sorcha filled a plate for him. “I never thought a small town dance could be so intriguing.”
“Where there are people gathered, there’s bound to be something of interest,” Alistair muttered. He glared at his sister to cease her prattling, but she ignored him. “Ye ken it was the same in Skye.”
“Imagine my surprise to learn that the baker is as wicked as her sister! I heard she was caught outside with a man.” She smiled with delight to her brothers, belatedly frowning when she saw Ewan and Alistair glare at her. “Serves her right after her show of airs and graces to be proven no better than the women at the Boudoir.”
Cailean cleared his throat, and her gaze darted to him. “That man you speak of was me.” He met his sister’s shocked gaze. “If anyone acted dishonorably last night, it was me.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes. “She knows the ways of a seducer. She had a wonderful tutor in her sister. You were ensnared by—”
“Enough!” Cailean roared. “She is an innocent woman, who was caught in a compromising circumstance. With me.” He took a deep breath. “Which is why we shall marry. As soon as possible.”
“Ye can no’ be serious,” Sorcha sputtered. “Ye expect met to accept such a woman into this house? To live here with her?”
Cailean nodded.
Sorcha continued to sputter but had finally found the good sense to cease speaking.
Alistair grinned, and Ewan dropped his cup of coffee, splattering the table and floor with it.
Montana Untamed Page 10
