Some Like it Scot (Scandalous Highlanders Book 4) (19 page)

He managed a glance or two in the direction he'd last seen Catriona, but only weeds and crumbling stone wall met his gaze. Aye, she had the stealth to remain unseen if she wanted to do so, but
he
wanted to see that she was safe and doing as he'd asked and not planning to shove the building over on his brothers before they could make off with Elizabeth.

“Ye'll like Glengask, lass,” he said a little louder than necessary, as he released the nineteen-year-old to swing up on Saturn. “And as my brother says, ye'll be protected there. It would take an entire English army to breach the castle; I doubt this Visford Sassannach would dare attempt such an idiotic thing.”

“I believe you,” Elizabeth returned, facing Peter so the footman could lift her up sideways in front of Munro. “It's splendid that Lord Glengask gave you Haldane Abbey. As much of a wreck as it is now, I think you could make it lovely again.”

She spoke in a carrying tone, as well. Hopefully between the two of them they'd managed to inform Cat that her sister wasn't being taken anywhere against her will, and that
he
would return to Haldane as soon as he could. Whether she wanted to see him or not was another question entirely.

Forty minutes later Glengask came into view beyond the loch and the edge of the trees, and he relaxed a little. The entire way he'd kept half his attention on the wilds around them, watching for the glint of a musket barrel, a glimpse of a shapely leg in men's trousers, shrouded sunlight on deep red hair. Nothing. Nothing but lowering clouds and a stiffening breeze.

At best she'd returned to the Haldane kitchen, where she would have a roof at least, but no blankets, a drowned fire, and a very small quantity of cold rabbit stew. At worst—as far as he was concerned, anyway—she'd seen that her sister was safe and she'd struck off deeper into the Highlands where he'd never set eyes on her again.

And here he was, trapped and forced into being civilized so he could keep his word to one sister while he broke his promise to the other. In addition, he'd made Elizabeth his charge. Escaping Glengask for Haldane had just become even more problematic.

“Your brothers are very gallant,” Elizabeth murmured as she sat across his thighs, the golden curls at her temple tickling his nose as they approached the grand front of the house. “From what you and Cat said, I expected them to try to lop off my head.”

They
were
being pleasant. Munro glared over at Ranulf, to find his oldest brother riding beside Arran and deep in conversation about something. As he watched, the marquis glanced back at him and away again. Even the thug he frequently pretended to be would know that something was afoot. More than once Arran had accused him of not seeing the entire forest in his eagerness to knock down a few trees, and he'd rather liked the metaphor. That didn't mean it actually applied to him. Not entirely, anyway.

“I hadn't come out yet when they were in London,” Elizabeth went on cheerily, apparently and thankfully not needing him to contribute to the conversation, “but I heard the stories. They were in the newspaper nearly every day.”

“The MacLawrys like to make a stir,” he contributed, edging Saturn up closer beside his brothers.

“My mother was a guest at one of the parties they attended. She said she'd never seen such a fierce, bloody fight in a proper household.”

If he hadn't been more concerned with where Catriona was and what his brothers were discussing, he likely would have found Elizabeth's conversation more interesting. He'd read the newspapers too, and he'd had letters from Arran and Winnie, but hearing the impression the MacLawrys made on Sassannach aristocrats who had no stake on the outcome—that seemed like it could be significant. Or at least entertaining.

He didn't have to be rude, though, especially when he needed to show his brothers that they'd best do as they promised where Elizabeth's safety was concerned. “Yer mama lived on Islay, though, aye?” he offered. “Ye said ye didnae leave until ye turned eight.”

“Yes. She married Papa two years before I was born. Cat was … five, I think, when I came along. But I don't remember a party ever being held at MacColl House. I know Papa went to soirees, but Mama never went with him. She always said she had nothing in common with barbarians.” She visibly winced. “
She
said that. I always found Highlanders fascinating. Especially the ones with those huge, bushy beards.”

He laughed. “I grew one of those once. When I saw my first whisker I refused to shave it off until I had a nice, bushy badger on my face.”

“Why did you shave, then?”

“It only took one lass saying she wouldnae give me a kiss because my beard scratched her cheeks.” That hadn't precisely been where Bethia Peterkin had complained about the scratching, but the tale would do for a proper lass like Elizabeth.

“Well, I'm glad you shave. You're … Well, you're quite handsome, you know.”

“Thank ye fer saying so, lass.” He nodded, but she continued to look at him expectantly.
Oh, right
. “Ye're a bonny lass yerself, Elizabeth.”

She smiled, her cheeks darkening prettily. “Thank you, my lord.” Tapping a finger on his sleeve, she looked up at him from beneath long eyelashes. “I would have been happy to remain, growing up in the Highlands. I had a sister here, even if our father treated her like a son. I thought I would be able to wear trousers too, and learn how to shoot and ride bareback.”

Abruptly this conversation interested him a great deal. No wonder Cat moved so well in boots and trousers; she hadn't donned them out of necessity, but because she was more accustomed to them than she was gowns and dancing slippers. “Did yer
athair
—yer father—try to raise ye as a son, too?”

“I remember he came in with a kilt for me once. My mother threw it in the fire, because a lady never shows her knees in public.” She frowned. “We left Scotland less than a month after that. It was my fault, I suppose.”

It sounded to him like Viscount and Lady MacColl had their own troubles aplenty. “Nae,” he said after a moment. “Ye were eight. That made Cat, what, thirteen? Yer mother had time aplenty to see what lay ahead. Ye may have been an excuse, but it wasnae yer fault.”

“That's what Cat said.” She flashed her bright smile again. “But I'm here now. And even more importantly, I'm not married to the Duke of Visford. You're certain your brother won't change his mind about having me here?”

“He willnae. It's aboot power, lass. We have someaught His Grace Visford wants, but he doesnae have a thing Glengask desires. Look as far as ye can see in any direction. It's all MacLawry land. The duke could send solicitors or soldiers after ye, but well, we can make a bit of a stir, ourselves.” That was a damned understatement, but she didn't need to know the details.

“Thank goodness. I mean, Cat came and rescued me, but I thought she would bring me back to Islay. To our clan. When she didn't, I knew something was wrong. I didn't know if it was about her or about me, though. Whatever it was, the two of us were alone in the Highlands. This—you—feels … safer.”

Safe? Him? Well, he supposed for a young English lass in the wilderness, anyone who could put food on the table and a roof over her head would feel safer than the idea of being on her own. “Thank ye,” he said absently, maneuvering Saturn directly behind Arran and his mount, Duffy.

“Will you show me about Glengask? I've heard so much about it. I'm looking forward to seeing it. And to sleeping in a soft, warm bed.”

Something in the undergrowth moved, catching his attention. Catriona? “Aye. I reckon I can do that,” he said belatedly. A pair of rabbits bolted away from the trail, and he relaxed again. He wasn't looking for rabbits; he was after a wildcat. Ranulf had changed the rules, but the game remained. And he played to win.

 

Chapter Nine

“I knew Lady MacColl,” Charlotte said in a low voice, sliding her arms around Ranulf's ribs and resting her cheek against his shoulder blade. “I never met her daughter, though. And I always thought the viscountess was a widow.”

“The lass is just nineteen,” Ranulf returned, his hands on the balcony railing as he watched Bear showing Elizabeth the foyer and morning room, below. “She would be a year behind Rowena and yer sister, aye?”

“Aye.” She remained behind him, watching around his shoulder for a moment as the lass crossed the doorway and out of sight again. “And this Elizabeth is the reason Bear's been spending so much time away from here?”

He shrugged against her cheek. “I reckon so. I wouldnae have thought such a … dainty, proper lass would catch his eye, but he was ready to take on the lot of us if we so much as looked at her sideways. It nearly came to a tussle.”

“I've seen how you tussle.” She released his ribs, edging up beside him so he could put an arm across her shoulders. Her warm hand slipped beneath his jacket and around his waist. “She did make it well into the Highlands on her own. That takes some courage.”

“I'll agree with that. What concerns me is why she would settle into the middle of MacLawry territory when the MacDonalds would be more likely to step in and protect her from a Sassannach marriage she didnae want.”

“She told you that she lost her way, you said. I can believe that. Especially if she's practically a stranger to the Highlands.”

“Aye.” It did make sense, and it explained some of Bear's actions as well as Lady Elizabeth's presence. “But why did he keep her a secret?”

“That's simple, my love. She's a MacDonald. Bear knows what nearly happened when Arran fell for Mary.”

“Mayhap. This is exactly the sort of thing, though, that I need to know. Fer God's sake, I welcomed Mary Campbell into our clan. Into our family.”

“Yes, you did. After you nearly banished Arran and then chased the two of them across the length of England.”

Everyone remembered that bit. No one, though, seemed to recall that he'd gone against his own better judgment to make peace with the Campbells just so Arran could keep his bride—and live with her in safety. He had no love for the MacDonalds, but this Elizabeth MacColl seemed barely to qualify as Scottish. As a matter of courtesy he would have to inform the MacDonald that the lass had appeared on his doorstep. And aye, the Earl of Gorrie would likely make enough of a fuss to gain some money or territory or a share in MacLawry business dealings, but if she was who Bear wanted, he would arrange for it to happen.

As the pair emerged again from the morning room, Lachlan came through the front door with Rowena on his heels. Lord Gray must have galloped all the way home to be back so quickly with his wife, but of course the youngest MacLawry would want to meet the lass for whom her brother had fallen. Ranulf imagined Arran would be back with Mary within the hour as well, the two of them only slowed by Mary's pregnancy.

“Does Mrs. Forrest know we'll be a full house for dinner?” Charlotte whispered, taking his hand to tug him toward the stairs.

“Aye. I sent Owen to inform her the moment we returned. She's been cooking extra every night because of Bear's thievery, anyway.”

“So ye were living at Haldane Abbey?” Rowena asked Elizabeth, giving the younger lass a sound hug.

“Yes, I was. I got caught in the rain, and there it was.”

“I havenae been there for years,” the only lass among the MacLawry siblings went on with a warm smile. “Bear and Lachlan always told me it was haunted.”

“Oh, goodness,” Elizabeth exclaimed, shuddering. “I'm glad I didn't know that when I found it. Bear mentioned it several days ago, and I barely slept after that. I never saw or heard anything—except for the creaks and groans of the house, but, well, I was very glad to see Bear every morning.”

“Just the thought of it would've been enough to frighten me away.”

Lachlan pulled his wife away from the lass to kiss her on the temple. “Ye hid in the dark in a Campbell escape tunnel, lass. I dunnae ken a ghostie could stand against ye.”

“That sounds like quite the tale! You must tell me what happened, Lady Gray.”

“Oh, pish. Ye must call me Winnie.”

It seemed Elizabeth MacColl was practically part of the family already. Ranulf gazed at her again. She looked … perfect, her golden-blond hair coiled beneath clips with tendrils escaping to frame her face, the merest touch of color on her cheeks and lips. Her green-and-pink-flowered gown wouldn't be amiss in any London drawing room, and he glimpsed the toes of shoes that Charlotte and Rowena would say were meant for sedately walking through a tame London park.

That was what … not troubled him, precisely, but left him unsatisfied. Young Elizabeth looked like she'd just stepped out the door of a proper house in Mayfair. What she did not look like was someone who'd escaped in a hurry from London and had spent the last weeks making her way through some of the wildest parts of the Highlands only to settle into a ruined kitchen of a ruined house.

He supposed it was possible; Bear had been acting strangely for a fortnight and had been spending most days away from Glengask for weeks before that. The Haldane Abbey kitchen had been tidy—or as tidy as a room with one corner fallen in could be—and either she'd learned to hunt and cook somewhere, which wasn't likely in those shoes, or Bear had been providing everything for her. That did explain why he never returned from fishing with any fish.

Ranulf shook himself. Whether something about her felt amiss or not, Bear clearly wouldn't allow anyone to question her about it. Not yet, anyway. Before things progressed much further, though, he needed to know. If she was playing on Bear's tendency to protect the weak and delicate, if she was simply a lass after the power and wealth of the MacLawrys, he would have to put a stop to it. Even if that meant a knock-down, drag-out fight with Munro.