Elaine Coffman - [MacKinnon 04] (4 page)

He woke up in his hotel room the next morning, having no
recollection of how he got there.

Without another thought, he fell across the bed and
stretched out, not bothering to remove his boots. Rolling over, he lay on his
back, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow he would get the hell out of San
Francisco.

He looked at the envelopes still lying on the desk. The
markings on one of the envelopes reminded him of his brother Ross’ handwriting;
slanted, large, and sloppy. He grinned at the thought and sat down in the
chair, looking more closely at the letter, his thoughts finely tuned on Ross. Who
would have ever thought it—all those years ago in that little house on the
banks of Tehuacana Creek, back in Limestone County, Texas? Who would have ever
thought that Ross Mackinnon would have grown up to go to Scotland to inherit a
title? What was he, a duke? And married for several years now. With a passel of
little dukes, or whatever they called them, running around. Adrian had stopped
counting after the fourth one.

He rolled over and dropped his head into his hands. He
remembered the letters that came infrequently from Ross and how proud he seemed
to be of his aristocratic wife, Annabella. Best Adrian could remember,
Annabella was the daughter of an English duke, and according to Ross, a real
head-turner with a fine mind. She had been betrothed to a Scottish nobleman,
and Ross had stolen her right out from under the man’s nose. Yes, Ross was a
man to be envied. He had himself a real, genuine lady, the daughter of an
English duke.

That’s what I need
, Adrian thought.
A lady. A real
lady
. Only one drawback there, and that was that there wasn’t a
real
lady in all of California, and Adrian didn’t have the time to go gallivanting
off to England or Scotland, hunting for a wife, making a fool of himself trying
to pay court. He brushed the thought aside, but it kept coming back to pester
him.
A lady. A Scottish lady. One with a title.
A woman like that would
have to be the envy of every man in California. A woman like that would be the
perfect jewel to set in the crown of his redwood empire. A woman like that would
be harder than hard to find.

Adrian spit, and missed the spittoon. “Hell and double
hell!” he said to the ceiling. “I don’t have time to look for a wife right here
in California, much less hunt for one in Scotland.”
No, but Ross does.

The thought startled him at first. Let Ross find him a wife?
“Naah,” he said. “Ross wouldn’t know what I was looking for.”

Maybe not, but you could write him.
“Write him?”

Write him. Tell him what you’re looking for, the kind of
lady you want. He did a pretty good job with those blooded horses he bought for
you, didn’t he?

“Hell’s bells!” he said, springing to his feet. “Those were
horses. I’m talking about a woman…
my wife!
”

So write him and tell him what you’re looking for, just
like you did with the horses.

Adrian shook his head. He was thinking, but he just didn’t
know. No. He couldn’t do it. A woman wasn’t something you ordered from a
catalog.

Men in California get mail-order brides all the time.
Some of them even marry women by proxy and have them sent out here as their
wives.

Adrian walked back to the desk. He stared at the envelopes
as he sat down. For a while he simply rested his hand on the handle of the
drawer. Should he, or shouldn’t he? He opened the drawer, taking out a piece of
paper. Dipping the quill in the inkwell, he stared at the white paper for a
moment, then scratched his way across the paper.

Dear Ross,

This letter may come as a bit of a surprise to you, since
it came as quite a surprise to me. I’ve decided to take a wife, and I want you
to find one for me…

Adrian finished the letter and posted it. The moment he did
so, he began to wonder what possessed him to do such an irrational thing.

With a muffled curse, Adrian left the post office.
What’s
done is done,
he thought. It’s now in the hands of fate.
And fate has
such terrible power.
Adrian didn’t want to think about that, so he stepped
up the pace of his walk. He would go back to the hotel.

An hour later, as he drifted off to sleep, Adrian was still
thinking about that letter. He sighed. There was nothing to be done about it
now—save saying a few prayers that Ross would find him the perfect wife. One
like no other.

A moment before his troubled consciousness slipped into a
deep sleep, he thought he could hear his mother’s voice, coming to him as it
had done so often when he was a child.

Be careful what you ask for, Adrian, or you might get it.

Scotland

The horse had a fiery eye and ran like a demon from hell.

The rider pulled back on the reins in front of the baronial
doors of Dunford Castle, swung one leg over the saddle, and dropped to the
ground before the horse had come to a complete stop.

Slapping the horse on the rump, he sent the big, gray
gelding trotting toward the stables before the groom could cover the distance
between them, knowing as he did that it would irritate the dickens out of the
groom and bring his hot Highlander’s blood to a full boil.

Ross Mackinnon, Duke of Dunford, chuckled at the thought.
There was nothing he liked better than to raise the ire of a Highlander.
Damn
,
he thought.
It’s going to be a fine, fine day.

The laundress, talking to the gardener beneath the
winter-bare boughs of a climbing rose, saw the whole thing and quickly crossed
herself—something quite remarkable, considering the laundress was a staunch Presbyterian.
“His Grace canna live too long and ride like that,” she said, taking note of a
finely turned leg as the duke took the front steps two at a time and burst
through the heavy oak doors.

“Aye,” the gardener said, blinking as the doors crashed back
against the wall. “They say he’s as wild as his horse.”

“Wilder,” said the laundress, giving her head a slow shake,
“and spawned by the same devil.”

Ross Mackinnon’s spurs left a trail of sparks as they struck
the stone floor.

“Ah-hem,” a voice behind him said. “Your Grace…your spurs.”

“What?” the duke said, turning to look, then following the
butler’s eye to his feet. “Oh, right,” he said, pulling the spurs off and
tossing them to Robert. “That should keep my lovely wife’s disposition sweet,”
he said with a wink.

“Indeed it will, Your Grace,” Robert said. “And might I be
thanking you in advance for it.”

The sound of the duke’s hearty laughter could be heard all
over the south wing of Dunford Castle.

Ross was still chuckling when he reached the library. He sat
on the corner of his desk, swinging one leg as he sorted through his mail. He
saw the letter from his brother, Adrian, and opened it before the others.

Reading the first few words, he paused, then backed up, to
be sure he read what he thought he read. A grin began to spread as he went on,
his eyebrows rising dramatically with each subsequent word. When he finished,
he threw back his head and let roll with another hearty laugh. “Well, shoot me
for an egg-sucking mule,” he said, laughing so hard, he had to grip the side of
the desk to keep his balance. “Adrian,” he said, as if not believing it
himself. “Who would have thought it?” He laughed for a full minute more. When
exhaustion finally claimed him, he sent for his wife.

“Bella,” Ross said, calling his wife to his side the moment
he heard the rustle of her petticoats in the doorway. He smiled at the familiar
scent of lemon verbena, turning to watch her walk toward him. As she drew
close, a thoughtful, amused look on her face, he handed her the letter. “Take a
look at this,” he said.

Annabella took the letter, giving her husband a puzzled
look.

“Read it,” Ross said, settling himself. “Then we’ll talk.”

He watched as she read the letter, waiting for her comment.

Annabella’s eyes skimmed the letter as Ross watched for her
reaction—a smile, an elevated brow, a nod, a gasp of surprise, then a moment of
stunned silence. When she finished reading the letter, she looked at Ross, a
slow smile curving across her sweet mouth. The smile did not surprise Ross.
Annabella loved intrigue. And why not? She was a woman, wasn’t she?

Aye
, he was thinking.
What a woman. And she’s all
mine.

“He doesn’t ask for much, does he?” Annabella said, then
laughed and handed the letter back to Ross.

“Only the sun and the moon,” he replied.

Ross glanced at the letter. He couldn’t help laughing.
Adrian asking for help? He would sooner believe snakes could walk. He shook his
head. “I can’t believe my self-sufficient little brother has come to me for
help—and to find him a wife, at that.” He turned to Annabella. “What in the
blue blazes does Adrian think
I
know about finding a wife?”

“You found me, didn’t you?”

“That was different,” he said quickly, then added, ”Don’t
forget that when I met you, I wasn’t looking for a wife. I was just lucky
enough to come barging into your life, too overworked about being told I had to
wear a kilt to notice you at first. And when I did notice you, it didn’t take
me two shakes to realize you would tumble right into my arms.”

Annabella scowled and crossed her arms in front of her.
“Leslie Ross Mackinnon, you didn’t know any such thing. Tumble into your arms,
indeed. You make me sound like a sack of flour.”

Ross grinned, but didn’t let his wife’s outburst deter him.
“Of course, I was faced with one
slight
problem—getting you out of the
clutches of that reprobate you were betrothed to.”

“That murderer, you mean,” Annabella said.

Ross looked at Annabella and nodded, knowing the memory of
her brother Gavin’s murder was still as painful for her as it was for him. He
didn’t give her time to think upon it, but went on to say. “Of course, Adrian’s
case is much different.”

“Different? I don’t see that it’s very different. We are
talking about marriage, aren’t we?”

Ross didn’t answer for a minute or two. After some
consideration, he finally said, “Yes, it’s different. Quite different.”

He paused and looked at Annabella, who took this for a cue
to speak. “Go on,” she said. “I want to hear this.”

“God’s love, Annabella. You know what I mean when I say
different.”

She busied herself with a close examination of her
fingernails. “I’m not sure I do know. I
have
been known to be wrong a
time or two.”

“Now I get humor,” he said, his face looking grave. “Blast
it, Bella. It’s my brother’s future that we’re talking about, and it’s suddenly
resting upon my shoulders. Taking a wife is serious business.”

“Oh? I don’t remember you being too serious when you chased
me over half of Scotland, popping up every time I turned around. Causing me
more trouble than I could ever imagine.”

“If I remember right, the trouble was the part you liked
best.”

“Oh, posh!” Annabella said.

He gave her a mischievous look.

“Now, I wonder why you are acting so sly,” she said.

His face was the picture of innocence. “Sly? Me?”

“Does a Scot like whisky? Come on, tell me.”

“Nothing, Bella. Honest. I was just trying to decide which
is worse,” he said, laughing. “A wife with no sense of humor or a wife who has
one.”

“Take my word for it; you’re better off with a sense of
humor,” she said, “but we’re straying off the path. Your brother has asked you
for help in finding him a wife. Considering his circumstances, I don’t find
that a bit odd—or difficult either, for that matter. I would think you’d be
highly flattered he’s turned to you instead of Alex, considering how close
twins are.”

“In this case, they’re only close enough for Adrian to know
better than to trust Alex. Alex was always a lighthearted fellow, full of
pranks and mischief. God knows what kind of wife Adrian would end up with if he
wrote to Alex for help.” Ross’ voice stopped abruptly, as if something else had
suddenly come to mind. “And there’s the business of Katherine, or had you
forgotten?”

“Yes, I had forgotten,” Annabella said, the humor in her
face replaced by an expression of serious contemplation. After a moment, she
said, “I can see how Adrian wouldn’t want Katherine to know he needed help
finding a wife.”

“Or want her help in finding one,” Ross added.

“I still say you should be flattered that he wrote to you,
but enough of that, for now.” The ruffle at the edge of her skirt was moving,
and Ross knew she was tapping her foot. “I am still waiting for you to tell me
why you think helping Adrian is so difficult.”

“Dash it all, Bella! It’s difficult to find a wife for
someone else, and just because Adrian is my brother doesn’t make it any easier.
I haven’t even
seen
Adrian in over ten years. How do I know what he
wants in a wife? I’m not even sure what I should look for.”

“A female,” Bella said, collapsing with laughter at the
expression on Ross’ face. “He did give a fairly complete list in his letter,”
she went on to say.

“And we both know that if I make a mistake, he’ll be blaming
me for the rest of his life—and mine.” Ross paused again, then shook his head.
“This whole thing is too tricky. You know what makes it so difficult isn’t
finding a woman who fits the description—although that will take some doing—but
finding a woman who would agree to marry a man she had never laid eyes upon.”

“I don’t think it’s
that
unusual. It’s rather like an
arranged marriage, and those have been happening for centuries. I’ve read that
mail-order brides are quite the rage in certain parts of the world.”

Ross paused in reflection. “You know the thing that
surprises me the most about all of this isn’t so much Adrian’s wanting me to
find him a wife as it is the fact that Adrian wants a wife at all.”

“You never thought he’d marry?”

“Never,” Ross said, without having to give it a moment’s
consideration.

“Because of Katherine?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, I for one never thought his losing Katherine to Alex
would make him swear off women entirely. I saw it as a temporary setback,
nothing more.”

“Some setback. It’s been over ten years.”

“I’ve never even met Adrian,” Annabella admitted. “All I
know about him is from his letters, or the things you’ve told me. But from what
I’ve learned, I don’t think he’s the kind of man to go through life without a
woman—for that matter,
none
of you Mackinnons are.”

Ross laughed. “I assume that’s a compliment.”

Her laughter joined his. “It is.”

Still, he looked skeptical. “Believe me, Adrian could
withstand marriage, or anything else he put his mind to. He’s too stubborn to
die.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Are you saying that just to disagree with me?”

Annabella flashed him her most wounded look. “How unworthy
of you to say such a thing as that, Ross Mackinnon,” she said, obviously
fighting to keep her face seriously straight. “How could you even think such?”

Ross grinned. “Because I know you, lass. You like to fluster
me.”

“I don’t!”

“Aye, you do.”

She was the picture of coyness now, going so far as to
exaggerate the fluttering of her eyes to the point that Ross laughed. “Well,
don’t blame me for that,” she said, prissing away from him with a rustle of
taffeta petticoats. “Women were born to fluster men,” she said, fluffing a pillow
on the sofa. “Besides, you do your best thinking when you’re flustered.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do. However, we are getting off the subject
again.” She gave him a serious look, putting her hands on her hips. “I must say
I don’t know how you would ever muddle your way through a conversation and stay
on course if you didn’t have me to point you in the right direction.”

When he started to respond, she held up her hand. “As I said
a moment ago, Adrian isn’t the type to go through life a bachelor.”

“Bella, how can you say that when you’ve never even met
him?”

She shrugged. “I’ve already told you.” She narrowed her
eyes. “Besides, he’s
your
brother, isn’t he?”

Ross laughed, his eyes gleaming with a special light that
could only be sparked by the pleasure he found in the woman he had married.
“Point taken, love.”

He picked up the letter, skimming the pages until he came to
Adrian’s list of desired attributes. Rereading them, Ross whistled and shook
his head. Hearing the bubbling laughter coming from his wife, he looked at her
and said, “Bella, this is serious. Now, stop laughing.”

It was difficult, but she kept a straight face. “You will
have to say that your brother can’t be accused of not knowing what he wants. To
the contrary, he has been quite explicit. Faith! I almost expected him to give
her shoe size.”

“Or her—”

Annabella sent him a chilling look.

“Never mind,” he said.

“Aye,” she said in her best Scots imitation, “never mind.”

“Well, I’m not convinced he knew what he wanted at all. I
think he simply listed everything he could think of, on the theory that if he
left nothing out, he couldn’t go wrong. After all,
he
isn’t the one
who’s going to have to find a woman to fit this description,” Ross said, giving
the paper a thump. He glanced at the list again and said, “I don’t suppose
anyone came to mind when you read this list, did they?”

“Aha!” Annabella said, and wagged her finger at him. “Don’t
you go putting that task off onto me, Ross Mackinnon,” she said, holding her
hands up, as if to ward him off as she began backing toward the door. “You are
the one saddled with the responsibility of finding him a wife.” She was wagging
her finger again, but she didn’t stop backing up. Turning, she made a dash for
the door.

Ross looked taken aback for a moment, then bolted. “That’s a
fine kettle of fish,” he said, cutting her off at the pass and taking her in
his arms. He kissed her soundly. “Behave yourself, wife.” He kissed her again.
“This is a family affair, my love, and here you are trying to desert me in the
line of fire. Shame on you,” he said, kissing her again.

Breathless from his kisses, Bella cocked her head to one
side and said, “You don’t play fair.”

Ross shrugged and kissed her again. “A man does what he has
to do.”

“That’s a pretty feeble way to drag me into this,” she said,
punctuating each word with a poke to his chest.