Some Like it Scot (Scandalous Highlanders Book 4) (38 page)

The moment he regained control of his muscles, he turned them sideways, wrapping her into his arms for another kiss. This time he wanted it to last, slow and soft and endless. “I love ye, wildcat,” he murmured. “Ye ken that, aye?”

“I do.
Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin, leannan
.”

She'd said it before, but hearing her say she loved him in Gaelic somehow meant … more. Deeper. Older. After all, for years the Sassannach had tried to kill the language of the Highlanders, the same way they'd tried to kill the culture by forbidding kilts and weapons and bagpipes. And yet they survived, in ways that sometimes felt almost as miraculous as the way he'd met her.

The low fire hissed, sputtering, and blazed again. “Rain?” he guessed. “Or do ye think we have snow?”

Cat pulled the blankets up closer around them. “It's cold enough for snow.”

“Arran was right, ye know. We cannae stay here through the winter.”

With a soft sigh she ran her fingers through his hair. “I cannae help feeling that once I leave here, this will all turn oot to be a faerie dream. I'll arrive on Glengask's doorstep to find I'm alone, wearing trousers, and Lord Torriden will laugh at me before he turns his back.”

“I can swear to ye, lass, ye'll nae be alone. Ye'll be wearing a gown, and I hope Lord Torriden tries laughing at someaught, because I've been wanting to throttle him since he rode up in his grand, fancy carriage.” He kissed her again. “But if he laughs at
ye,
my lass, then he's even more a fool than I already thought him. Ye … Ye stop my heart, Catriona. Every time I look at ye, or hear yer voice.”

She smiled. “For a big, brawny man, ye have quite a way with words.”

He laughed. “Ye're the first person ever to say that, I reckon.” Cat was also the first person to ever see him as more than … Bear.

Grinning back at him, she reached beneath the corner of the blanket and produced the pocket watch he'd given her. Snuggling against him in a way that left him feeling both protective and aroused, she clicked it open. “Nearly seven o'clock. It'll be light soon. Do we wait and see how heavy the snow is, or head to Glengask regardless?”

His heart stuttered. The desire to keep her safe, both from harm and from ridicule and embarrassment, made him loath to expose her to anyone who called themselves civilized. As they'd already decided, though, remaining at Haldane was simply impossible. If he hadn't been so close to his siblings, so connected to the MacLawrys, he would have suggested they take the money Arran had given her, together with the funds he had saved up, and simply leave. But that would mean leaving the Highlands, and neither of them wanted to do that.

“Ye have the final word,” he said slowly, “but I dunnae think we'll have a better moment than today.”

She nodded. “I agree. The last thing I want is for Torriden to decide he needs to send for more MacDonalds to look for me.”

Damn, she was a brave lass. Telling her so would only make her more self-conscious about it, though, and so he settled for rolling onto his back and pulling her over on top of him. “It's nae daylight yet.”

With a quick grin she slipped beneath the blanket and down his chest. “I noticed that,” she said, her voice muffled.

Whether she felt more easy about what was to come or if she was merely trying to distract herself, he wasn't about to complain. However shy she was about her appearance, in bed she was damned fearless. And very inventive.

Finally he couldn't conjure another reason for them to remain in the warm, rumpled blankets, and he slid out from under them to dress and bank the fire. If his plan went poorly, and he had a good idea that it might, he and Cat might be returning here tonight. Afterward, they would head to Aberdeen where he could claim his blunt from the bank there, and then they could go wherever they pleased.

If it went well … He turned around to watch Catriona pull a shift over her head and then step into the soft green and silver gown they'd decided best fit her. It was a bit fancy, but as far as he was concerned this was one hell of an occasion. For both their sakes he hoped his brothers would understand what she meant to him and just how determined he was to remain with her. If not, though, he meant to be ready to act.

“I dunnae need ye looking worried, giant,” she said, turning her back on him. “Buttons, if ye please.”

“Aye.” Being careful not to pull off any buttons or wrinkle the delicate lace overlaying the silk neckline, he fastened the gown for her. “I'm still happy to go in before ye and state my demands, ye know.”

“I know. But they arenae just yer demands, Munro. And I've been hiding long enough.” She shook out her fingers. “Ye made my hair look nice.”

“I even brushed oot my own hair.”

“Well, ye're full of surprises,” Catriona said, forcing a smile despite the shivering nerves plucking at her insides like crows. The one thing she didn't doubt was his promise to protect her. She would be safe. But what about him? What about his relationship with his siblings? She did not want to be responsible for destroying that.

The only thing she could do to protect
him
at this point was to run. And she wasn't about to do that. Perhaps she was only being selfish, but she didn't wish to be anywhere without him. She'd spent so much of her life feeling alone, and the idea of going back to that life filled her with icy dread. She'd found someone, finally and well after she'd given up looking, who seemed able to look past the odd clothes and mad tangle of hair and see … her. And he loved her.

His muscular arms slipped around her waist from behind. “Dunnae ye fret, Cat. I ken what might happen, and I'm where I want to be.”

“And now ye're a witch who can read my thoughts, are ye?” she returned, twisting to face him and kissing his half-smiling mouth. His eyes were much more serious, but then so were hers.

“I dunnae see the need to pack all our things, one way or the other,” he said instead of answering. “Are ye ready?”

She tried to stifle the resulting shiver down her spine, but he had to know how nervous she was. “Aye. Ready as I'll ever be.”

Munro shrugged into his heavy coat, then helped her into the oversized one he'd liberated from his oldest brother. It wasn't at all feminine, but with a two-mile ride ahead of them, she preferred to be warm.

While he went to fetch his horse, she took a last look around the large room that had become her home over the past weeks. When she next saw it, everything would have changed. And regardless of what happened, she'd likely spend no more than another night here. Haunted or not, wrecked or not, Haldane Abbey had saved her life, both literally and figuratively.

“It's definitely snowing,” Bear said, stomping back into the kitchen to shake white from his hair and shoulders. “Trousers would be warmer fer ye.”

She shook her head. “Nae. I may have met yer brothers, but this is my—our declaration. I mean to do it withoot giving either of us cause to be embarrassed.”

For a moment his expression became exasperated. “Ye dunnae embarrass me, wildcat. But I do understand. Let's get to it, then.”

This was her last chance to change her mind. As she watched him making a last check of the fire and pausing to slip his dagger into his boot, then pull gloves out of his coat pocket and hand them to her, though, she knew already that she would stay in this until the end. When she'd first fled Islay to collect Elizabeth and then turned north again to hide in her beloved Highlands, she'd imagined a life for herself. It had been solitary and isolated, and she'd told herself that would make her happy.

In the weeks since then, however, she'd learned the difference between surviving and being happy. Bear made her happy, both with her life and with herself. In his company she wasn't some oddity. The challenge today was to see if his family would view her as anything
but
that odd, mannish lass. And so even if she froze her legs off, she would not be wearing trousers.

He tied their satchel of necessaries to the saddle, then swung up and held down his hand. Mindful that she was wearing something that constricted the movement of her legs, she stepped into the stirrup he left open and then let him lift her up before him. Bear opened the blanket he'd slung over his shoulder and wrapped it around the two of them. “Comfortable?”

“Aye,” she returned, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Stop that, or ye'll have me sending Saturn into the nettles.” With a grin he kissed her back, then clucked at the gelding.

In the space of one night the land had gone from deep greens and earthy browns to white. Even Haldane Abbey looked romantic, in a ghostly, haunted way, as snow covered the tops of broken walls and blanketed tumbled stone. A deer spooked in front of them, his breath fogging in the air.

Bear's chest against her side felt warm and solid, and she pressed herself closer against him and held the blanket closed against the chill. “Perhaps
ye
should have worn trousers today,” she suggested, pushing one corner of the blanket out so it covered his thigh.

“Nae. Fer me it's a kilt or naught.”

That made her smile. “Well, ye look very fine either way.”

“As do ye, my lass.”

He kept Saturn to a walk as they navigated along the disused road leading away from the abbey, but she wasn't certain it was out of concern for her comfort, or to delay their arrival at Glengask for as long as possible. However boldly he spoke, however strong and capable he was, he had to be concerned over how his family would react to the news that it wasn't Elizabeth he meant to claim, but her older half sister.

At least they would have the advantage of surprise. The rest of the MacLawry siblings seemed to think Bear meant to hold out at the abbey until the roof caved in from the weight of the snow. And yet there they were, the first day of snowfall. It all felt like some kind of chess game—even though neither of them particularly enjoyed chess. It wasn't nearly straightforward enough.

She wanted so much for this—for him—that it was difficult not to think ahead, to imagine all the possible trails the next few hours might take. At least she knew one thing for certain; they would be together, whatever happened.

*   *   *

Ranulf squatted down to pick up his son. “Nae much of a fan of snow, are ye, William?” he drawled, brushing the cold white stuff from his son's face and front.

“I don't think he expected it to be cold,” Charlotte commented, laughing as the seven-month-old scowled at the white blanket now covering the Glengask garden.

A few feet away the two deerhounds bounded through the white powder, barking and rolling as snow flung through the air. “I think Fergus and Una led him astray,” he said aloud, brushing off the bench to sit beside his wife.

She hugged his arm, leaning over to kiss their bairn on the cheek. “Oh, he's cold. I should bring him inside.”

“He crawled face-first into a wee snowbank. We Highlanders dunnae back away from a bit of cold.”

“Mm-hm.” Reaching over, Charlotte pulled her husband's coat around the little one, then sank against his shoulder again. “Have you decided what to do?”

Of course he knew to what she was referring. They'd talked about almost nothing else since yesterday after dinner, once they'd managed to send Torriden off to read poetry with Elizabeth. The lass was clearly worried about her sister, but she'd been willing enough to play her part and distract the viscount while the rest of them tried to come up with a way to avoid war with the MacDonalds.

Unfortunately every scenario ended with Bear bidding Catriona farewell. From the way the youngest MacLawry brother had been acting, however, that didn't seem a likely outcome. “I'll have to talk to him, and explain what's at stake fer both the MacLawrys and the MacDonalds. If the lass doesnae wish to wed Torriden I won't force it, but she does need to be elsewhere. We're pulled partway into this mess already just by having her half sister under our roof.”

“The longer you wait, the harder this will be,” Charlotte murmured, in the midst of a game of peekaboo with her son. “And if he truly cares for her, I'm not certain anyone should be attempting to separate them.”

“I do understand that, ye know,” Ranulf returned. “I married ye, and Arran wed Mary, and I turned aside clan Buchanan so Rowena could have Lachlan. This is stepping into another clan's business, though. A pivotal part of it.”

From her expression she wasn't convinced. Already she'd reminded him, twice, that Mary Campbell had been set to wed a MacAllister and that Arran marrying her hadn't caused much additional trouble. It had caused a great deal of trouble, actually, and had forced an alliance with the Campbell that likely had Ranulf's father and grandfather rolling in their graves. In that instance, at least the result had been greater stability, which with the birth of his son and nephew and niece had become increasingly necessary.

The MacDonald was a spiteful old man, though, and one clearly looking for a reason to battle half his own clan. In addition, Lord Gorrie had already given his permission for Munro to wed Elizabeth. Announcing that Elizabeth was being cast aside in favor of Catriona would be insult enough. But coupling that with denying the MacDonald the lass he more than likely meant to use to begin his war …

Arran came into view around the side of the house, Mary walking beside him and young Mòrag swinging between them and shrieking with laughter. “Mòrag likes the snow, I assume?” he asked dryly.

“Aye. She thinks we made it all fer her. She wanted it in her bedchamber this morning, and pushed all the windows open.” Arran's fond, amused expression faded. “Ye still reckon we should go today?”

“I dunnae think we'll be getting rid of Torriden anytime soon as long as I have to be pleasant to him, so aye, we'd best see to this before Bear decides to kill him.”