The Highlander's Choice (15 page)

“I would love a cup of tea.” Sybil glanced up and down the street. “Is there an inn nearby?”

“Aye. A fine inn where ye can have yer tea and I can get a cool drink a bit more to my liking.”

“And what scandalous name does this inn have?”

“Naught, darlin’. This one is verra nicely named The Drovers Inn.”

“How interesting? Does that have a particular meaning?”

“That it does, lass. ’Tis an
old coaching inn from my great grandda’s time. ’Twas once used as a place to quench yer thirst by the Highland drovers who used to drive their cattle down the side of the mountains to the markets in the south
.”

“I am certainly getting my fill of Scottish history on this trip. There is so much I hadn’t known about Scotland. It is sad your rebellious uprising was squashed, and so many were driven from the land. But, on the other hand, every war has winners and losers. With England being the great country she is, we would naturally have more wins on our side.”

He cast her a strange look. “Aye. I guess that would be yer feeling as a Sassenach.”

His remark stung. After what they’d shared, he still thought of her as an outlander?

The owners of the inn, another MacBride and his wife, greeted Liam as if he were a long lost son. One thing she had been impressed by all afternoon was the affection between Liam and his clansmen, and how free and easy their attitude was toward their laird. Apparently, there was nothing stiff or remote about how he handled his people.

But there had been that Sassenach comment.

…

Liam was pleased at how well most of his clansmen received Sybil. Although all had remarked on her English lineage, only a few appeared perturbed that a Sassenach was in the company of their laird. He was confident he could sway them to his side. Sybil was a very likeable person. So far, his mum was the only opponent to the lass. Her attitude was something he had to deal with. And verra soon.

He’d tried very hard to ignore Sybil’s remark about the “great” country of England. Of course she would feel that way, having been raised with certain expectations. One of them being the idea that her country was always right. Hopefully, she wouldn’t say something similar in front of his mum, giving her more reason to criticize her.

“Which of Miss Austen’s books will ye be reading to us?” Liam settled on the settee in front of the fire in the library. Once again, Catriona and Alanna faced each other over a chessboard and mum had retired right from the dining table.

A kitchen helper carried in the tea tray, and Sybil rose to pour for them all. She looked so at home here and ready to take on the role of the laird’s wife. With her delicate hands—which had recovered somewhat from whatever it was that had ruined them—she poured tea and passed cups and small plates with slices of Mrs. MacDougal’s cherry cake and butter tarts. After settling next to him, she picked up a copy of
Emma
and began to read.

Once again, Liam leaned his head back against the chair and allowed the melody of her voice to wash over him. Her tone rose and fell, using different voices for the characters. How he wished they were both in his massive bed upstairs—naked—as she read to him. He would entertain himself by caressing her soft skin and teasing her taut nipples until her words faltered. Then, when her skin flushed a bright red and her eyes grew dark, he would remove the book from her hand, place it on the table next to his bed, and make slow, sweet love to her.

Soon he would press her for an answer. Certainly, she knew by now that what they shared was enough to build a happy marriage on. The lass had stated she would not marry for any reason except love. It didn’t take much convincing to admit he loved the lass. She was sweet, strong, loyal, and had charmed many of his clansmen. His sisters were quite fond of her, and already asked her advice as if she were an older sister.

Then, as if a cloud passed over the sun leaving him chilled, an image of mum snarling “Sassenach” at his beloved soured him. He would speak with the woman soon. Either she would come to terms with his decision or face the consequences. Hopefully, she wouldn’t force his hand in the matter.

After bringing his mum around to his way of thinking, he needed to convince Sybil that her place was here with him. A locked library door, providing them with much needed privacy once the lasses left for bed, would be just the thing. He smiled in anticipation.

Chapter Fifteen

Sybil lay sprawled on the carpet in front of the fire. Naked. As much as she had promised herself she would not allow a repeat of their prior scandalous behavior in the library, here she was trying desperately to remember where she’d placed her bones, because apparently they were missing, along with her clothing.

“Lass, I would have yer answer,” Liam said.

She moved her head to regard him, his large body flung out alongside her, a mellow look on his handsome face.

“What answer?”

Rolling to his side, he bent his elbow and propped his head on his hand, his deep green eyes riveted on her. “Ye know what answer I’m waiting for.”

She smiled. “Oh, that one.”

“Aye, that one.”

How tempted she was to just throw her arms around his neck and shout “yes!” Her heart knew. Her body knew. But her brain stopped her cold in her tracks. And with good cause. There was a definite mean streak in Lady MacBride that, thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to pass onto any of her children. Liam and his two sisters were kind, thoughtful, and easy to be around. Simply put, his mother was not.

She chewed her lip as she studied him. The face she’d grown to love, the body she’d discovered brought her pleasure beyond any of her imaginings. She could easily spend the rest of her life living here, loving him, bearing his children. If only.

“I enjoyed meeting your people yesterday.” She paused and chose her words carefully. “I already love your sisters. They are sweet and wonderful young ladies.” Unable to continue, she looked off into the distance. How to tell a man his mother was a witch?

Liam wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Ye are having thoughts about my mum.”

Exhaling a deep breath, she said, “Yes. I think she not only disapproves of me, but actually dislikes me a great deal, and I honestly do not know why.”

Releasing her hair, he rolled over onto this back and crossed his large hands over his chest. “Only because yer English. She has a dislike for the Sassenach.”

“To her I’m a Sassenach, but to me she is a Scot. If I’m willing to overlook that, she should be able to do the same.”

“Ach, the woman has a life-long dislike of the English.” He cast her a rueful glance. “And are ye overlooking that I’m a Scot, too?”

She did not like the turn of the conversation. This could be very delicate ground they were treading. Disliking someone because of their actions was understandable. There were many frivolous members of the
ton
she disliked due to their behavior and reputation. But she’d done nothing to make Lady MacBride hate her so. To disdain an entire group of people merely because of where they’d been born made no sense whatsoever. After all, she was willing to put aside her ingrained suspicion of the Scottish, and how she’d always viewed the men.

He cupped her chin and turned her head in his direction. “Ye would be marrying me, lass. Not my mum.”

So easily said, yet so difficult to live with. Difficult enough that she was very reluctant to give Liam the answer he wanted. Marriage was forever. If she couldn’t win over Lady MacBride, her whole life could be one of misery. She had no trouble standing up to the woman, but was it fair to bring such strife and unhappiness to the entire household and Clan MacBride?

Sybil sat up and began to gather her clothing. “I received a letter from my mother today. She is concerned that I have imposed upon your hospitality far too long.”

“And did ye tell your mum that ye are not imposing since you will be mistress of Bedlay Castle one day soon?”

“That hasn’t been decided yet. She reminded me in her letter that Marion’s time grows near, and she knows I want to be there for that.” She dropped her shift over her head and wrestled into the arms, then picking up her stays she turned her back to Liam. “Can you lace me, please?”

He took them from her hands and started the lacing process, grumbling, “I prefer to be taking them off.”

What she faced was a true conundrum. Perhaps when Margaret and her new husband came for the ball in their honor she might gain some insight and help from her friend. If nothing else, she would at least obtain a willing ear. She needed to make a decision about Liam’s proposal, and whether she truly wanted a life away from England, and among Scots, for the rest of her life.

She was yanked back from her musing by Liam’s deep voice as it rumbled through her. “Yer thinking too much, lass.” He turned her body to face him. “There are only two people involved in yer decision.

“I ken a marriage between us would be a good thing for you, me, and my clan. That is all that matters.” He kissed her gently on her forehead. “I want ye for my wife, Lady Sybil Lacey. And be warned, lass, I won’t give up until I have yer consent.”

…

Sybil waited anxiously on the steps of Bedlay Castle as the coach carrying Duncan and Margaret rolled to a stop. Liam stood alongside her, his hand on her elbow. “Relax, lass. I can feel you trembling.”

She smiled brightly. “I am just so excited to see Margaret. It feels like many months since I’ve seen her, instead of merely one.”

Duncan alighted from the carriage and turned to help his new wife. Margaret stepped down and immediately exclaimed, “Sybil!”

Unable to hold her any longer, Liam released Sybil’s elbow as she hurried forward and embraced her friend. The women hugged and exclaimed over their separation. Duncan strode up to Liam and clasped his hand and gripped his shoulder. “The lasses behave as if they haven’t seen each other in months.”

“Aye. Sybil’s been flustered all morn.” He chuckled to himself at her fussing since they’d risen from the breakfast table. Since his mum had excused herself, stating her intention to see to the last minute details of his sisters’ gowns, Sybil had stepped in as hostess. She had certainly been well-trained in the art of preparing for and receiving guests. Despite her excitement at seeing her friend once more, she’d inspected the newly cleaned guest bedchamber, discussed the menus with Mrs. MacDougal, arranged flowers throughout the downstairs, and still managed to look beautiful.

“And how long do ye plan to keep the lass prisoner at Bedlay Castle?” Duncan smirked as they watched the ladies chattering like two magpies.

Liam grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Till she answers a question I put to her.”

Duncan’s brows rose. “And that would be?”

Liam hesitated, then said, “I asked Lady Sybil to marry me once again.”

Duncan slapped Liam on the back. “’Tis not a surpise. Ye said as much before ye left Dundas. I believe that was the purpose of bringing her here. To meet yer family and the Clan.”

“Aye. And I hoped doing just that would convince her.”

“Ye don’t sound as if the plan has worked.”

Liam shook his head. “My mum has been outspoken about her dislike of the English. Sybil has been patient with her, but I ken that is what’s holding the lass back.”

“Mayhap ’tis time to talk to yer mum. No offense, but she’s always been a bit sour, even with yer da.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Liam nodded. “Aye. She does allow her tongue to run on too much. I’ve never stopped her before, but ’tis time to let her ken I’m her laird, and the choice is mine.”

Arm-in-arm, Sybil and Margaret strolled to the castle door. ’Twas the happiest he’d seen her since she had arrived a month ago. She waved her hand in the air as she spoke, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. Liam’s gut tightened at the sight. The time had indeed come to take his mum to task and end this war she’d created.

…

The ball in honor of The McKinnon and his bride turned out to be the most magical night of Sybil’s life. During her four Seasons, she’d danced with numerous men in dozens of English ballrooms, but none had moved her quite the way Liam did. Not that he was a better dancer. In fact, he lacked the smoothness and polish of the better Englishmen. But when he held her close in a waltz, pulling her even nearer when they went into a turn, for the first time in her life she felt as if she would swoon.

She’d also been approached by many of the MacBride Clan to dance a Scottish reel or a quadrille. But it was always back in Liam’s arms where she’d felt a rush of excitement and joy. She found herself wanting to giggle every time he glanced her way. She’d never been that type of woman and used to smirk at other girls who would have that sort of a response to a man’s attention.

Yet her giggle would turn to desire when he slanted a smoldering look in her direction as he conversed with another guest. Goodness, the man could set her heart to thumping and her stomach to quivering so easily. But was that love? Or merely lust?

Now, she and Margaret sat on Sybil’s bed going over the evening and sharing stories much like they’d done for years when they were in London during the Season. Generally, her twin, Sarah, would be right there with them. It was times like this that she missed her sister the most. If she did decide to accept Liam’s proposal she would insist that Sarah stay for a while after the wedding.

The wedding! Heavens had she gotten that far that she could think of her wedding? Perhaps it was time to put Liam out of his misery and accept his offer. She grinned at the thought of how they would celebrate her decision.

“What are you grinning at?” Margaret’s voice broke into her reverie, reminding her she was being especially rude by ignoring her guest.

“Oh, nothing in particular.”

Margaret’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? Why do I get the feeling you were thinking about a certain handsome Scot who could not keep his eyes off you all evening?”

Sybil felt the blush start at her toes and climb all the way to her face. Had Liam been that obvious? “I don’t suppose there is any point in denying it.”

“Not at all. Have you accepted his offer of marriage?”

Sybil sighed. “Not yet.”

“It is obvious the man adores you. You should have seen his face every time you were on the dance floor with another man. When one of his clan asked you to waltz, I thought Liam would break the poor man’s arm wrestling you away from him.” Margaret covered her mouth and laughed. She paused and took Sybil’s hand. “Why haven’t you accepted his offer? Do you not feel the love for him you have always insisted had to be part of your marriage?”

“I’m not sure. I think perhaps love is involved, but there is one big obstacle standing in my way.”

Margaret tilted her head in question. “And that would be?”

Sybil wrinkled her nose. “Lady MacBride.”

“Oh.” Margaret sat back and shook her head. “Not a very pleasant woman, I’m afraid.”

“Yes. Quite true. She has been most unpleasant to me ever since I arrived.” Lady MacBride had also extended her poor manners to Margaret. Sybil had been embarrassed several times at the curt responses she’d given both to her and Margaret. Most times it was when Liam was not around to hear her.

“Well, you wouldn’t be marrying the woman.”

“Come now, Margaret, you must know when women are to live in the same house, no matter how large, if there is animosity between them, it can make for a very troublesome life.”

Margaret gave her a slow nod. “I am afraid you have the right of it in that regard. What does Liam say about her?”

“He has indicated that she has a deep-seated dislike of all things English. He’s even said he would speak to her, but I really don’t want to cause problems between mother and son.”

“Nonsense. Liam does not strike me as the type of man who is led about by his mother. I think you are giving this situation too much importance.”

“Perhaps.” Sybil twisted her fingers. “There is something else.”

Margaret regarded her with raised eyebrows.

“You seem happy, Margaret, truly you do. But I must say I don’t know for certain if I could be content away from my family, my country. Things are different here. If I marry Liam my children will be raised in the Scottish way.”

She clasped Margaret’s hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You must think me horrid, since your children will be raised Scottish.”

“I know. And I have thought about it. But if you truly love someone, nothing else really matters.”

“So your marriage has become a love match?”

Margaret giggled, her face a bright red.

Sybil smiled. Well, that would certainly make a difference. However, while she cared a great deal for Liam, her heart was still a few steps away from the word
love
.

They both sat in silence for a few moments as Margaret composed herself. “What of his sisters? They seem to be sweet girls.”

“Oh, they are wonderful. I miss my own sisters so much, and they have definitely filled a bit of that hole in my heart.” After her initial reticence, Alanna had become as open and likeable as Catriona. The girl had even come to her for advice on how to have their maid dress her hair for her very first ball. Both girls had looked exquisite. Liam would have his hands full keeping the men away from them once they reached their come-out.

“See. There you have it. Three out of four people love you. You’ll just have to learn to ignore the woman.” She paused. “And I can almost guarantee that once a babe is on the way, she will change her attitude.”

Sybil’s face heated again, concerned that a babe might already be on the way. If that were to happen, the choice would be taken away from her. She really must rein in her lust for the man and not allow him anymore privileges until they got this marriage thing settled. Hoping Margaret hadn’t noticed her blush, she said, “I hope you’re right. But I’m not as certain as you are. Don’t forget the babe would have English blood.”

Yes, a child with both English and Scottish blood. Shouldn’t she prefer to raise him in the English way? She sighed. All of this had her going around in circles.

A scratch at Sybil’s bedchamber door drew their attention.

Bessie entered at their summons. “I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady. But The McKinnon asked me to remind Lady McKinnon that her bedchamber is down the corridor.”

“Oh, heavens.” Margaret jumped up, covering her reddened cheeks with her hands.

“It seems your husband is feeling a bit lonely, Margaret.” Sybil laughed at her friend’s distress. It appeared Margaret had made an excellent adjustment to the marriage bed.