Some Like it Scot (Scandalous Highlanders Book 4) (40 page)

Her grip on Munro's fingers tightened, and then she let him go. “Mayhap they did promise me to ye,” she said, this time her voice shaking, “but I didnae agree to anything. I ken what part I'm supposed to play, and I refuse.”

“You … refuse?”

“Ye heard the lass. Step aside, wee man.”

To his credit, Torriden moved out of the way, though Munro would have preferred that he'd stood his ground. He'd been coiled for a fight for days. A charging bull—or bear, rather—needed a target. This would go the way he envisioned, because any twist or turn could cost him Catriona. And that … He took a hard breath, his years of playing about, of breaking hearts, of looking for someone, anyone, with whom to spend the night, crashing against him like a cold, relentless wave. Losing Catriona was not allowed to happen.

“Cooper, set two more places fer luncheon,” he said, spotting the butler hiding at the base of the stairs.

“Um, aye, m'laird.” Seeming grateful to escape, the servant practically sprinted for the kitchen.

With the butler gone, it was Peter Gilling who stepped in to take the blanket and then the coat from Cat. Knowing how uncertain she was about her new attire, Munro kept a close eye on her. True to her stubborn, brave self, she kept her chin up and her gaze on the hallway as the pretty green and silver silk came into view, shifting and shimmering around her. Even with a rival and the hostility of his own brothers all around him, lust tugged at his gut. Perhaps she wasn't a delicate, breakable flower, but she was beautiful in a fierce Highlands way that stole his breath.

“This is not—I don't believe— How—I will contact my uncle at once!” Torriden blustered, as he eyed Cat in a way that had Munro coiling his fist all over again. The need to protect, to beat the astonished indignation off the pretty man's face, nearly overwhelmed him.

Of course the viscount was surprised. He'd expected a freakish lass in trousers, not a dark-eyed, well-curved vision. And since she'd been meant as an insult that the northern MacDonalds were more than ready to act upon, Torriden likely had no idea which way to turn.

As Munro took Cat's hand again to lead her to the morning room where they'd have a bit more space around them, a petite, dark-haired sprite practically flung herself against his chest. “Bear!” Winnie said fiercely, hugging him. “I'm so glad ye're home.”

He hugged her back with his free hand. “It's good to be back,” he answered, though he wasn't entirely certain yet that that was true.

“They know aboot the note ye sent me,” she whispered in his ear just before she released him again. “And I'm on yer side.”

With an appreciative nod he gestured at Cat. “Catriona, my sister, Rowena, Lady Gray. Winnie, Lady Catriona MacColl.”

Rather than curtsying or offering her hand, Winnie hugged Cat much as she had him. He would be forever grateful for that gesture of acceptance. “Welcome to Glengask, Lady Catriona,” she said, smiling.

“Thank ye, my lady. Bear's told me a great deal about ye.” Cat glanced about the room, seeming to notice the other ladies and the bairns for the first time. “He's told me about all of ye. It made me wish my sister hadn't lived so far away for so long.”

“But we're together now,” Elizabeth said, hugging her as Winnie had. “You should have told me, Cat,” she murmured, almost too quietly for him to overhear. “I might've helped … somehow.”

“It was my burden, Elizabeth. Ye had yer own.”

“If you say so.” Elizabeth squeezed her hand. “You look very fine in that gown, by the way. I've never seen it before. Where in the world did you get it?”

So Elizabeth and more than likely Torriden didn't know the details of their return. That was something, anyway. Before Cat could answer, he stepped in to introduce her to his in-laws and nephews and niece. They were all polite, if a little cool—which didn't surprise him, considering the position she was in. That didn't mean he liked it, though. This was a lass who'd had very little in the way of a family, while the one person who had seemed to care for her had put some very stiff conditions on that affection and had tried to turn her into something she wasn't.

Behind him Ranulf and Arran continued to whisper together. Whatever they might be planning, he supposed he would have to meet with them in private. This was one time where the needs of the MacLawrys were outweighed by the needs of a precious lass, whether they agreed with him or not.

“Lord Glengask, lords and ladies,” Cooper announced after twenty or so minutes, leaning into the room, “luncheon is served.”

It wasn't even noon yet. No doubt Ranulf had had a hand in rushing things along, though, so he could get to the crux of what he saw as the problem. That suspicion was confirmed when the marquis began ushering everyone to the door while the nanny and a pair of maids came to collect the bairns.

“Bear?” the marquis prompted, lifting an eyebrow when his youngest brother didn't move.

“We'll be along in a moment,” Munro returned, realizing that once he'd decided to defy the MacLawry, the more he did it, the easier it got.

“Ye'd best be. This is yer doing.”

Once Ranulf had left them alone in the morning room, Munro shut the door and leaned back against it. “How are ye, my lass?”

Sighing, Catriona sank down on the couch. “They all want me gone, Bear. They're polite about it, but nae a one of 'em wants me here. This was a mistake. And yer brother is correct; I'm meant to cause a war. If I stay with ye, the war will come here.”

He stalked over to sit beside her, anger tightening the muscles across his shoulders. They all had no idea how damned reasonable he'd been through all of this. And they had no idea how very near he was to deciding this with his fists. “The war willnae come here, because I willnae allow that. If it comes to that, we willnae be here, and I'll make it known that I've gone against my clan chief's orders.” He tucked a strand of her scarlet hair back behind her ear. “Would ye still want me if we had to leave the Highlands?”

A tear ran down her cheek, but she brushed it away before he could do so. “I'm causing ye more and more trouble. I didnae want that.”

“None of it is yer fault, Cat,” he returned. “I asked ye a question.”

“Ye know I want ye, wherever we are.”

Slowly he leaned closer and kissed her. “I know. I wanted to hear ye say it again.”

“What's next, then?”

He glanced toward the closed door. “I reckon ye need to be honest and tell the tale of how ye grew up. I think my family needs to hear it, and mayhap it'll either help Torriden see reason, or at least he'll know what's coming when I beat him to a pulp.”

“Munro, ye say the sweetest things.”

That made him laugh. However nervous she was, she remained his wildcat, thank God. “Here we go, then.”

“‘Once more unto the breach,'” she quoted, rising beside him.

It occurred to him again that he needed to ask her to marry him. Unconventional as she was, there was no sense making things even more difficult than they were likely to be. He nearly said it right then, in the Glengask morning room, but part of him, the part that was still a bit too prideful, perhaps, didn't want the question to be a crutch for her. If they were to marry, he would be
obligated
to protect her. This way, he could make it clear that he made his stand against his own because he
chose
to do so. Then, when they'd decided their own fate, he would ask her.

 

Chapter Eighteen

He was willing both to fight and to walk away from his own family. Catriona might have tried to talk him out of both, but clearly she wasn't going to change his mind. The hardest part of the equation to grasp, for her, at least, was that he was willing to do that for her. But even if she didn't quite see
why,
she had to accept that he was. And she, therefore, could do no less.

She reached the door first, and pulled it open. Then, of course, she had no idea where the MacLawrys were taking luncheon, so she had to wait for him to offer an arm. “I'm nae scared, ye know,” she commented, as they turned down the hallway. “Nae for myself.”

“I dunnae want ye to be scared fer me, either. I've argued with my family before. They've argued with each other. Arran and Ranulf—fer a time after Arran decided he wanted Mary, they didn't even speak. Ranulf banished him from London, where they were staying. Today, though, they look thick as thieves again, ye may have noticed.” He shrugged. “So aye, we may fight. We may throw a few punches. But they remain my family. Wherever I go. Ye're the one I cannae live apart from. This is fer my life, as much as it is yers.”

She squared her shoulders. If he was willing to risk so much, then by Saint Andrew she would do her damnedest to see this luncheon end to their advantage. Because whether he was willing to leave behind his family or not, she didn't want him to have to do so.

When he pushed open the dining room door—the small dining room, as he called it—they both stopped in the doorway. Two seats remained open, the first between Lady Gray and Lady Mary, and the second between Torriden and Glengask. As the rest of the party had sat man-woman, clearly she was meant to sit between the two men. “Bear,” she whispered, feeling the color leave her face. This was where she felt most out of water; in the face of proper Society. Or as close as anyone came to that in the Highlands.

Abruptly Munro left her side to stride deeper into the room. Before anyone could move he'd pulled out the empty chair between the lords and then lifted his sister, chair and all, to set her in the empty space. Then he returned to hand Catriona into the seat beside Lady Mary, scooted the remaining chair into the empty spot beside her, and sat down there himself. “There,” he said with a slight grin that didn't touch his eyes. “Much better.”

If the rest of the party needed a reminder of his strength and formidability, that provided it. Stifling an abrupt smile of her own, she gave Lady Mary a polite nod. From what Bear had said, Mary was just twenty-three, a year younger than herself. And they had more than their age in common. “Ye're the Campbell's granddaughter, I hear. Did ye worry about upending yer clan when ye fell for Lord Arran?”

“Yes, I did,” she returned. “I worried a great deal about what I was doing to my own life and to his.”

“What convinced ye to take the chance?”

Light green eyes glanced across the table at light blue ones. “I've found the MacLawry men to be very nearly irresistible,” she said after a moment, smiling. “I suppose I would have to call it a leap of faith.”

“I like that,” Catriona returned. “A leap of faith. I've been told that my father married my mother because she was the one sister in a family with eight brothers. He figured the odds were good that she would give him a boy. He grew up with two brothers, but from what I've been able to decipher they never got along. I dunnae ken if he wanted another chance at making a happy family, or if he wanted to make certain that neither of them or their heirs ever inherited his title, but he was determined that his child—all his children—would be sons.”

“Your sister mentioned something about that,” Mary said.

“Did ye, Elizabeth?”

Her sister looked dismayed. “I had to, Cat. When they found you, they didn't … I had to explain things.”

Of course she had. Elizabeth would have been embarrassed for her. And for herself, for having such an odd sister, most likely. “Dunnae worry yerself, Elizabeth.” She deliberately faced Glengask, who, unlike the others, wasn't even pretending to eat his luncheon. “I liked growing up the way I did. I learned to ride, to hunt, to trap, to fish. The first time I realized I was different was when my father wouldnae let me go swimming with the boys from the village.

“When my father remarried, his new wife, Elizabeth's mother, took one look at me and announced that he must hire a governess and civilize me. He refused, and so she sent to London for a gown she thought would fit me. I thought it was grand fun to dress up like that, but when my father caught me, he ripped off the gown and burned it, and made me swear nae to dress so outlandishly ever again. I dunnae know exactly what he said to Anne, but she barely spoke a word to me after that. Nae a kind word, at the least.”

“I didn't know that, Cat,” Elizabeth said, reaching across the table.

Catriona squeezed her fingers, then released her again. “I got used to hearing whispers, to having the daughters of other lords laugh behind their hands at me, to being made fun of by everyone from stable boys to my uncles. I expected it, really.”

Beneath the table, Bear's fingers brushed her knee. He knew all this, of course. While she doubted it would make any difference in the world, in a way it felt good to explain herself. It felt freeing, almost.

“By the time my father died, I was twenty-two. I'd stopped cutting my hair, but I didn't know how to fashion it in anything other than a ponytail. I wore trousers and shirts and coats, because I'd been forbidden to wear anything else, and because I didnae ken how to find a gown that would fit me properly, or the bits that go beneath it. And by then I'd realized that … I wouldn't be marrying. That suited me, because, well, I knew how I appeared, and I had no idea how to change it.

“Then my uncle announced that I was to be offered to the Sutherland MacDonalds, because the MacDonald had ordered the feud to end. That … troubled me. But then I overheard him talking to his brother about what they hoped sending me away would accomplish. He knew I would be an insult, and he knew the likely result. And he was happy to be rid of me.”

“I must protest,” Lord Torriden said, his color high. “This is MacDonald business.”

She scowled at him. “I know ye're here to collect me so you can publicly turn yer back on me in front of the MacDonald. My uncle wants to start a war, and yer uncle won't allow the insult to pass. And the fact that ye came to find me, knowing ye'd be expected to scoff at me as much as the rest of 'em, doesnae make me look on ye any more kindly. What are ye, the MacDonald's dog?”