Susana and the Scot (35 page)

He flinched. “Who told you that?”

She sent him a wicked grin. “I listen. Did you have such a bet?”

“Ach. Aye. I'm not proud of it. But a kiss is only a kiss.”

“Sometimes a kiss is more than a kiss.”

“Aye, but it is not a seduction. And there's been only you…”

His words warmed her and she relaxed against him with a sigh. She sent him a mischievous smile. “Did you at least win the bet?”

He grinned. “I did.”

She sniffed. “Do you remember the name of the hundredth girl?”

“I do.” He leaned closer. Cupped her cheek. “Her name was Susana Dounreay. And with any luck, she will also be the last.” He kissed her again, this time for a long, lingering while. Then he leaned back, he stared at her. “So, Susana Dounreay, my question…”

“Aye?

“May I woo you?”

Why her heart dropped was a mystery. Surely she hadn't expected a proposal or something quite so rash. Though they'd known each other, lived in each other's hearts for six years, they'd only been reunited for a month or so and most of that time they had been at odds. It made sense to get to know each other better before they made a lifelong commitment, but truth be known, she was ready now.

Still, she didn't want to rush him.

He needed to know this was what he wanted, what he chose.

He needed to be certain he wanted to accept her and her daughter and be a part of their lives forever.

So, though she wanted more, she forced a smile and a nod and said, simply, “Aye.”

His grin was recompense enough for her restraint. But then he winked and asked, “And you promise you willna shoot me in the arse?”

She patted him gently on the shoulder. “My darling,” she said with a roguish grin. “There are no promises in life.”

And he gulped.

*   *   *

Andrew couldn't help staring at Susana as the carriage made the final leg back to Dounreay. They'd been gone a little over two weeks and he was anxious to get back. Not just because he couldn't wait to begin wooing Susana, but because he wanted to be home.

And that was how he thought of the beautiful rose-colored castle. Home.

If all went well with her—and he had every expectation it would, judging from her glances and smiles—he would be spending the rest of his life there. With her. And Isobel. And God willing, one day, a son.

The thought of making one burned in him.

Getting Susana alone was the thought paramount in his mind. The whole time they'd been at the inn in Brims, he'd been surrounded by people. Doctors, Hamish, Isobel. He'd had very little time alone with Susana. Barely a chance to steal a kiss, much less something more. It had been aggravating to wait until his body was ready to travel again, but Susana had insisted.

It was a relief to be on their way … to their new life.

She smiled at him across the carriage and he grinned back. When her foot nudged his, a ripple of excitement threaded through him. He knew he wasn't up to anything strenuous, but his imagination bubbled with ideas. He didn't have to risk his injury to have her. In fact, he rather liked the idea of her riding him as he lay beneath her on the bed.

Perhaps his expression betrayed his thoughts, for she blushed.

Isobel, who was hanging out the window, gave a whoop and pulled herself back in. “We're almost there,” she announced, her eyes alight. “I canna wait to tell Grandpapa about our adventures.”

“I'm sure he will be enthralled,” Susana said drily.

“Of course he will,” Isobel said. “It was verra exciting!”

“Indeed it was,” Andrew murmured. He held out his arm and his daughter came to him and nestled in. He kissed the top of her head. “You were verra brave.”

She nodded. “And clever.”

“Aye.” He chuckled.

Susana's lips twisted. “And you learned about the dangers of gunpowder.”

Isobel tipped her head to the side. “
Scrabster
learned about the dangers of gunpowder,” she corrected.

“Puir Scrabster,” Susana murmured, although there wasn't a hint of mercy in her tone.

“Do you think he survived?” Isobel asked. There was a bloodthirsty gleam in her eye.

“Most likely.” Susana sighed. “I aimed for his heart, but the arrow skewed to the right.”

“You missed a shot?” Andrew asked in a teasing tone.

She frowned at him. “There was a gust,” she said crisply, “Aside from which, I was preoccupied by the fact that he had a gun pointed at my daughter.”

“But you saved me.” Isobel gazed up at Andrew adoringly and petted his beard.

Susana's focus flicked from one to the other. She sighed. “We're going to have to tell her,” she said with a meaningful glance.

“Aye. We will.”

“Tell me what?” Isobel asked.

Andrew swallowed painfully. His lips worked. Susana took his hand and squeezed it with a nod. So bolstered, he burbled, “Isobel … I … I'm your father.”

She wrinkled her nose and blew out a dismissive breath. “Is that it? Your big announcement?”

“Are you … not surprised?”

“Of course not. I already knew it.”

Susana blinked. “How did you know?”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “I
listen
.”

Of course.

Andrew's Adam's apple worked. “I … ah … And … how do you feel about it?”

She shrugged. “All right, I guess.” Something out the window captured her attention.

“You guess?”

“I already decided you were better than Hamish,” she muttered.

Well, thank heaven for small mercies.

“You have a bigger sword.”

There was no call for Susana to snort a laugh. He frowned at her and then turned back to Isobel, but before he could interrogate her further on just
how
he was better than Hamish—other than the sword situation, which was absolutely true … in every possible respect—she wrenched from his hold and peered out the window once more. “Whose carriage is that?”

Andrew glanced at Susana, whose brow furrowed. A visiting carriage meant only one thing. Someone of substance had come to call—only barons or lairds could afford to keep them. Trepidation swirled in his gut as the possibilities flickered through his mind. None of them good.

He leaned forward to see and his jaw tightened.

It was a very fancy equipage indeed, one worthy of the king … or a duke. And he knew the seal on the carriage door. He'd seen it on a threatening letter his brother had received.

“Caithness.”

Susana hissed in a breath. “What on earth is he doing here?”

“Who is Caithness?” Isobel asked. “And why do you say his name like he is a disease? Is he a bad man, too?”

“Hush, darling.” Susana licked her lips as she stared at the carriage. Her gaze flicked to Andrew's and they shared a moment of concern. Caithness, the duke and their overlord, had been absent from the parish for years, decades. Upon his return, he'd begun encouraging and then ordering barons to clear their land.

It appeared his quest for gold had finally brought him to the hinterlands.

This interview would not be a pleasant one. And very probably, a disaster.

Andrew forced a smile, though it wasn't terribly sincere. “Shall we go and greet him?”

Susana's eyes narrowed. She picked up her bow. Determination flickered over her features. “Aye,” she said. “Let us go and greet the Duke of Caithness.”

He was certain that was what she said, but her expression said something else entirely. Something such as,
Let us go and gore him.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

They found their visitor in the parlor, having tea with Papa, which was a surprise because Papa, as a rule, did not drink tea. But there were more surprises in store for Susana as she entered the room.

First was the fact that Caithness was not what she expected. Rather than a wormy, skinny Englishman, she found him quite handsome in his traditional Sinclair kilt. And he was rather enormous. He was perched on the delicate Chippendale, looking as though at any moment he might crush it. He had a dainty cup of tea in one hand and a plate of cakes in the other.

The other surprise was that Alexander, Laird of Dunnet, Andrew's brother and Hannah's new husband, was with the duke. Susana had seen him months ago at the fair in Barrogill and she recognized his harsh features, but it wasn't until now that she saw Andrew in his face and bearing as well. And for that matter, there was a bit of Isobel in there as well.

Concern shafted through her, because Dunnet was here, and Hannah was not.

Dunnet and Caithness nearly filled the room with their presences, but Andrew pushed in and, with a cry, made his way to his brother's side. Hamish followed, joining a triad of hugs and back slapping.

“Andrew!” Dunnet boomed, wrapping him into a fierce embrace. Andrew winced.

“Have a care,” Susana snapped, rushing to Andrew's side and examining his shoulder. The wound still bled on occasion and it wouldn't do for this big oaf to open it again. She glared at Dunnet. “He's been shot.”

Dunnet's eyes widened. His attention whipped to Andrew. “Shot?”

“He was saving me,” Isobel said. She flounced into the room and studied the plate of cakes, selecting one with care and licking it. She was oblivious to the fact that Dunnet was gaping at her. His gaze flicked from Isobel to Andrew and back again. He swallowed.

“Why … ah … why was he saving you?”

Isobel leaned against the table and crossed her ankles and shrugged. “There was a bad man,” she said as though this were an everyday occurrence. No doubt the incessant retelling of her story bored her by this point.

Andrew blew out a breath and eased himself into a chair. Susana flinched. She should have remembered he was still weak. She hurried to pour him a cup of tea. Isobel brought him a cake and crawled up into his lap. She even allowed him to take a bite before she ate it herself.

Dunnet continued to stare. And indeed, it was a scintillating sight. The two blond heads, the identical smiles. The dimples. He shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Well, Andrew. I see you've been … busy.” He leveled a presumptuous glance on Susana and she glared him down. He blinked and tore his gaze away. “Ah, may I introduce you to Lachlan Sinclair, Duke of Caithness?”

The duke, who had been watching this interaction with a hint of a smile, nodded. When Andrew moved to stand, as formality required, the duke waved him back down. “No need for that,” he said with a chuckle. “You've got your hands full.”

Andrew laughed. “You doona know the half of it.”

Susana stepped forward, loath to interrupt this scene of male bonding, but Dunnet's appearance here in Dounreay was concerning. “Is Hannah all right?” she asked.

He smiled at her. Smiled like a loon. Absolute adoration wreathed his expression. “Hannah is fine.”

“She most certainly is not fine,” the duke said with a chuckle.

Susana turned her glower on him and his chuckle evaporated. He might have paled. “What do you mean, she's not fine?”

“I … ah … Only that she's ruined my boots.” He glanced down at his—not-so-pristine—Hessians and wiggled his toes.

“She was ill all the way here.” Dunnet's grin broadened.

Susana frowned. “She's been ill all the way here?” And then …
oh, heavens
. “She's here?”

Papa nodded with a smile.

“Hurray,” said Isobel, brandishing a cake like a well-glazed sword.

“Why didn't you tell me? Is Lana with her?”

“Aye.”

“Where are they?”

“We're here.”

Susana spun around and stilled. Two dear, familiar faces stared back at her. Hannah and Lana, her two sisters. Home. Delight and relief and exultation washed through her.

As they had come from different mothers, the three of them had always been very different in temperament and physical appearance—Hannah had long dark hair and Lana was a blonde—but there was one thing in which they did not differ. Their absolute adoration for one another.

Hannah seemed pale, yet she also seemed to glow, though that could have been the brilliance of her smile, her obvious joy to be home. Lana, as always, looked so beautiful it made Susana's chest hurt.

Without a word she opened her arms and ran to them, pulling them both into a fierce, three-sistered embrace.

“Aunt Hannah! Aunt Lana!” Isobel warbled. Andrew
oof
ed as she elbowed her way off his lap and launched herself at her aunts, throwing herself into their arms and wiping sticky fingers on their skirts.

What followed was a flurry of hugs and kisses and tears. It was so wonderful having everyone together once more.

“Dunnet said you've been ill,” Susana murmured to Hannah, once all the greetings had been dispensed with.

Hannah's grin looked very much like Dunnet's. “Aye.”

“How is this good news?”

“It's the best news,” Hannah said. “I'm with child.”

Susana's heart soared, sang. “Oh, Hannah! That is wonderful!” Her sister had so wanted children one day, although she'd sorely resisted taking the husband who might be helpful in begetting one. But now her long-held dreams were coming true.

“I'm so happy,” Hannah said, glancing at Isobel, who had crawled up into Andrew's lap once more. Her gaze stalled on the two of them, as so many had. She blinked. “Oh, my,” she said. “I knew he'd seemed familiar.” She sent Susana an accusatory frown. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Susana frowned. “I dinna know.”

Lana frowned and whispered in an undertone, “How could you not have
known
?”

“I dinna know he was a Lochlannach.”

There was no call for Hannah to laugh. “You're the one who advised me to marry Alexander.”