Some Like it Scot (Scandalous Highlanders Book 4) (39 page)

“This is all horrid,” Mary said, scooping up her daughter. “And we still don't know for certain what Bear might be thinking. Or planning.”

“Half the time Bear doesnae even ken what he's thinking,” Arran put in. “Did ye send fer Lachlan?”

“I'm here” came from behind them, as their brother-in-law trotted up from the direction of the house. “Rowena's inside the coach, trying to coax Colin oot from under a blanket. What's amiss?”

Ranulf stood, helping Charlotte to her feet. “I only want to say this once more, so if ye'll fetch Rowena we'll meet in the morning room.”

“Aye.”

Lachlan headed back to the drive, while Ranulf led the rest of his family into the house. Before all the marriages and bairns, he'd made his decisions alone, sometimes asking Arran's advice, but with the understanding that what he said was the law. As the size of the family increased, he'd discovered that his decisions affected them in ways he couldn't previously have conceived, and these family meetings had become more frequent. The final decision was still his, as was the responsibility and weight of the consequences, but the MacLawrys had never been closer. And to his surprise, he liked it that way.

As they gathered in the warm, bright morning room, he didn't like the fact that Bear wasn't there. A literally large part of the family was absent, and since this concerned Munro, he should have been present. On the other hand, having a strategy before they confronted Bear was likely a very wise idea. Once everyone was settled with tea or coffee or a large stack of wooden blocks, he sat on the deep windowsill and told them what he'd learned about Catriona, Elizabeth, Torriden, and clan MacDonald.

Mary and Charlotte had both heard most of it already, but as he spoke Lachlan's expression became more and more grim, and the color left Rowena's face to the point that he stopped talking, alarmed that she might faint.
“Piuthar,”
he said, rising to walk over to her, “we'll figure this oot. Ye needn't fret.”

“That's isnae it,” she muttered, sending a look at her husband. A moment later he nodded, swearing under his breath, and handed her a folded note from his pocket. She opened it, read through it, and then handed it to Ranulf. “I received this four days ago.”

With a frown he unfolded it. The writing was couched in Bear's confident scrawl. As he read through it, a chill went down his spine. “Sweet Saint Andrew,” he murmured.

“What is it?” Arran asked.

Ranulf blew out his breath. “The first part's just a list of what Bear wanted from Glengask after I banished him from the hoose. He put a note at the bottom, though. ‘Winnie,'” he read aloud, “‘I've a lass with me who's never had the chance to be a lady. Will you help me give her one? I need a few gowns with whatever goes beneath them, some proper walking shoes, hair clips, and lip rouge. And whatever else you deem important. She has my heart, Rowena. Mine. I think I teased Lach too much when he fell for you. I'll tell you more when I can. Bear.' The word ‘mine' is underlined. Twice.”

For a moment the only sound in the room was the giggling of bairns pushing wooden blocks across the floor. They'd already done the arithmetic, but the idea of Bear losing his heart didn't compare to actually seeing it. Up until two days ago Ranulf—and the rest of them—had thought their youngest brother meant to wed Elizabeth MacColl. As he considered it, though, Munro had never said a word to encourage that rumor, had never shown any particular affection for the proper lass, and most tellingly, he
had
left Glengask to protect someone else nearly the moment a potential rival had arrived. They should have realized it much damned sooner.

“What do we do?” Arran finally asked, his voice low and unhappy.

“What do ye mean?” Rowena countered, sitting forward. “We help Bear. Why is that a question?”

“For all the reasons we just discussed,” Arran retorted, scowling. “Ye have a five-month-old bairn, Winnie. Do ye want to see us back to posting men all aboot the hoose and nae going anywhere withoot an armed escort?”

“Nae. Of course not. But why does that mean Bear is the only one of us to nae have who he wants?”

Ranulf shook himself. “Bear is a very changeable lad,” he said. “All we have to judge his feelings is one short note and me getting punched in the eye. I'd wager he doesnae ken exactly what's at stake here. If we can make him see that we'll nae be abandoning the lass, but sending her someplace safe and with enough blunt to live well, then he'll nae have to feel so protective. He'll see reason.” It hadn't worked the two previous times he and then Arran had attempted it, but they hadn't had all the facts, then. They did now. Hopefully.

“So ye think Catriona MacColl is a lost kitten or someaught to him?” Rowena asked, clearly not yet convinced. She'd always been the most romantic of them, though, so he wasn't surprised. “That when we find her a good home he'll pat her on the head and send her away?”

“Ye'd best hope that's what happens.” Ranulf resumed his seat in the window. Standing and dictating terms might have worked a few years ago, but he'd learned more subtle ways to lead his family where he thought they needed to go. “At this moment the MacLawrys are in the enviable position of being feared and respected fer our past willingness to take action. If we're pressed into doing someaught now, we'll have to crush the MacDonalds. If we dunnae, we'll have every other clan who's ever had a disagreement with us begin chipping away.”

“Cannae we … compensate them fer Catriona?” Rowena insisted, her stubborn expression softening into one of sadness.

“Aye, we could. And then we'll have the reputation fer throwing money at threats and troubles. And more threats and troubles will come, believe me.”

“It isn't fai—”

The morning room door flew open. “I beg your pardon,” Lord Torriden said, panting and red-faced, “but I've been in the village, and some of the lads at the blacksmith were chatting about a red-haired ghost at someplace called Haldane Abbey. I think that may be Lady Catriona. And I must ask for your assistance in guiding me there, at once.”

Elizabeth entered the room behind him, as out of breath as the viscount. “I told him it was silly, that Lady Glengask told me all about Haldane Abbey, and that everyone has been saying for ages that it's haunted.”

Well, the lass had tried to help, anyway. Now, though, whatever plans they'd been about to lay, however carefully he meant to plot what he wanted—needed—to say to Bear to convince him that his feelings for the lass were out of a need to protect her rather than love, the time seemed to be gone.

“It's still snowing,” he said aloud, feeling his way as he went. “The path doon to the valley is rough enough in good weather. I'll take ye tomorrow myself, if the weather clears.”

“That is not—”

Cooper skidded into the room. “M'laird,” he stammered, jerking his neck sideways like a drunken chicken.

“What the devil are ye up to, Cooper?” he demanded of the butler, out of patience. “Are ye having a spasm?”

The servant sighed. “Oot the window, m'laird,” he muttered, jabbing a forefinger toward the front drive.

Ranulf twisted around to look outside. For a moment all he could make out was the light fall of snow. Then the distinctive shape of Munro and his big gelding, Saturn, came into view. Thank God. He'd sent her away, and none of the scenarios that had been giving him sleeping and waking nightmares for the past two nights would come to pass.

As Bear drew closer, though, Ranulf's heart thudded. She was with him. Sitting across the front of the saddle, a heavy blanket around the two of them. So Bear had decided on his own course of action—the worst possible decision Ranulf could imagine. He'd brought Catriona MacColl home, while her fiancé remained, and before anyone could make any plans to minimize the impending disaster. He didn't even waste a moment trying to convince himself that they'd come to Glengask to hand her over to the MacDonalds.

“Chac,”
he muttered, glancing away as he felt Arran come up behind him.

“This isnae going to end well,” his brother breathed. “Do ye think we can turn him away before—”

“That's her, isn't it?” Torriden exclaimed from beside the room's second window. “Your brother has found her!”

He and Arran glanced at each other. The viscount had come up with a storyline for them. Evidently they had a very slim chance to avoid a war with the MacDonalds, after all. If Bear was willing to cooperate.

*   *   *

Glengask always had at least two men up on the widow's walk, keeping watch over all approaches to the castle. Munro therefore knew he and Cat had been seen the moment they turned up the road that ran along the north edge of the loch. He wasn't surprised, either, that no one emerged from the house until they were nearly to the front door. Ranulf would want time to assess whether they meant to cooperate and hand over Cat, or if his explicit orders had been ignored.

Drawing Saturn to a halt, he handed Catriona to the ground, then swung down after her. She shivered visibly, though he wasn't certain whether it was from the cold, or from the idea that she was about to confront both the most powerful family in the Highlands, and the man her own family was trying to force her to marry. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, tugging her closer as he did so. “Are ye ready, my lass?”

She nodded. “At least we'll know what happens. I willnae be conjuring all the horrors I can imagine.”

“I told ye what happens next. We stay together.” Deliberately keeping an arm across her shoulder, he headed them toward the shallow granite steps of Glengask.

For a few moments he wondered whether anyone would open the front doors at all, or if they'd barred the entrance against him. As he was beginning to wonder if there were horrors he and Cat hadn't yet imagined, though, the left door swung open and Ranulf emerged, Arran on his heels. Munro hoped they were ready for a fight, because he damned well was. Both of them had tried to separate him from Cat, and that would not stand.

“Ye ken Torriden is here,” Ranulf said in a low voice, stopping between them and the door. “And he's seen ye through the window.”

Munro tightened his grip on Cat's shoulder. “Good,” he rumbled. “I'm finished with hiding.”

“Dammit, Bear, ye're going to shove us into a war.”

“Then dunnae stand with me. I reckon I can manage on my own.”

Ranulf took a hard breath. “We need a word with ye. Now.”

“I'm standing right here.”

“Alone, Bear,” his oldest brother stated, finally sending a glance at the blanket-wrapped Catriona.

He shook his head. “I ken what ye want. Ye'd have me give over Cat to Torriden so the MacDonalds can go aboot their feuding and leave the MacLawrys oot of it.”

Ranulf opened and shut his mouth. “Aye, that's what I want. If ye'd listen fer a minute, I'll explain why. We have young ones n—”

“Here's what
I
want,” Munro interrupted. For God's sake, did his brothers think he hadn't considered them and their wives and their bairns in all this? “I want to have luncheon with my family and Elizabeth and Lord Torriden. At the end of it, Cat and I will either stay, together, or we'll leave, together. The rest of the mess, the lot of ye can wrestle with. I'm done.”

“Bear, ye—”

“And there's one thing ye'd best keep in mind,” he continued. “Catriona MacColl is mine. Ye'll nae pay her to go away,” and he tossed the bundle of money back at Arran's chest, “and ye'll nae insult her.” With that he sent Ranulf a pointed glance. “Nor do ye get to decide her fate. The lot of ye dunnae even know her.”

She lifted her hand to place over his where it rested on her shoulder. “We dunnae want trouble,” she said, her voice admirably steady. “I didnae plan for any of this. But I'm finished with running, and I reckon it's time to make a stand. I'm sorry it has to be here and now.”

“Dunnae apologize,” Munro countered. “If they'd booted Torriden oot on his arse when he arrived in his fancy coach, none of this would be happening now.”

Cat tapped her fingers against his knuckles. “They didnae know I was here then, Bear. We are partly to blame.”

Her sympathizing with his brothers wasn't helping anything, but she did have a point. He hadn't precisely been honest with them. “I'll concede that point, then. Now, are ye going to invite us in, or should we turn aboot now?”

“Dammit, Bear,” Ranulf persisted, below his breath, “we could have managed this better.”

“I dunnae believe that, since ye began it badly. Is Winnie here? And Lach?”

“Everyone's here. And I'm asking ye nae to do this.”

Ranulf rarely
asked
for anything. They both knew that, too, but Munro wasn't in the mood to be persuaded. They thought him a rampaging bull, and for the moment it suited him to be one. So he shifted his grip to Cat's chilled hand and stomped between his brothers for the door. The sooner they began, the sooner he'd know what he needed to do next.

“Slow doon, ye giant,” Cat whispered at him. “I'm in a damned gown.”

He immediately shortened his strides as he stepped into the foyer with her. They'd barely entered the house, though, when pretty, perfect Viscount Torriden marched up to them. “My lady,” he said, sketching a deep bow. “I'm so grateful that you've been found safely. After those workers said they saw you on the roof of this Haldane Abbey, I hardly dared to hope, but may I say that you and I will—”

“Shut up, Torriden,” Munro interrupted. “This lass is mine. Nae yers.”

The light-brown-haired MacDonald straightened, blinking. “I beg your pardon? I believe I told you when I arrived that Lady Catriona was promised to me by both the MacDonald and her uncle, Lord Islay.”