The Highlander's Choice (16 page)

“Yes. I believe you are right.” Margaret bent and gave Sybil a hug. “I will see you at breakfast.”

“Yes. If your husband allows you out of bed.”

“Sybil!” Margaret turned and fled from the room to the sound of Sybil’s laughter.

Chapter Sixteen

Three days after the ball Lady MacBride entered the library, her lips tightened. “Ye wish to speak with me?”

Liam put down the pen he was writing with and stood. “Good morning to ye, Mum.” He waved at the chair in front of his massive wooden desk. “Yes. Please have a seat.”

She fiddled with her skirts, avoiding his eyes. “Ye need to make it quick, I have many things to attend to.”

Duncan and Margaret had left after dinner the prior evening. Once again, his mum had excused herself right from the dinner table, leaving Margaret and Sybil staring at each other at the woman’s lack of manners to her guests, and Liam fuming at her behavior.

The ball had been a success, everyone wishing The McKinnon and his wife happiness and a long, fruitful marriage. Everyone except Mum. Luckily, it appeared no one in his clan had noticed her lack of enthusiasm.

Liam smiled, remembering the broad winks and nudges he’d received from clansmen hinting that it was near time for him to join his friend in matrimony. Not too subtle glances and nods were tossed in Sybil’s direction, whom he’d made sure spent most of the evening beside him.

But now the time had come to speak to Mum about her refusal to accept the way things were.

He remembered his da having problems with Mum, also. As much as they loved the woman, and thanked the good Lord for her love and devotion to her family, she could be a trial with her stubbornness.

He agreed with his clan. It was time to marry and begin producing bairns. And he would have no other than Lady Sybil Lacey. He steeled himself to face the biggest challenge to his happiness. The conversation he was about to have was not one he’d been looking forward to.

His heart told him that Sybil was ready to accept his proposal. Besides which, they were moving into dangerous waters with their inability to keep their hands off each other. The matter had to be settled.

Liam rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, his fingers cupping his chin. “Ye ken I hold Lady Sybil in great regard.”

His mum brushed invisible lint from her apron. “Foolishness.”

“Nay, Mum. Not foolishness. I’ve asked the lass to marry me, and I believe she is ready to accept.”

Her face flushed, Mum pushed back her chair and stood, her hands fisted at her sides. “Nay! I’ve said it before, and I say it now. I will never accept a Sassenach daughter-in-law. Ye need to look for a Scottish lass to wed.”

As much as he wanted to shake the stubborn woman, he managed to remain calm. He would prefer not turning this into a battle. However, he’d given his mum enough time to adjust to the inevitable. He loved Sybil, intended to marry her, and get her with child as often as he could. And nothing was going to stop him. Not even the woman who had given him life.

“Ye need to put aside yer prejudices. Lady Sybil is a wonderful woman. She is smart, kind and from what I have seen since she arrived here, very patient with yer rudeness.”

“She’s fooled ye. Once ye make her yer wife she’ll turn on ye. Just like the English have always done. She’ll make ye miserable yer whole life, always looking for more and more, wantin’ everyone to wait on her, lookin’ night and day fer ways to spend yer coin.”

Liam dragged his palm down his face. This was not going to be easy. He’d been fooled, all right. Fooled into believing his mum would have seen the goodness in the lass by now. She’d been here for weeks and had remained ever pleasant to Mum, even though the woman had treated her shamefully. The time had come to take a stand and let her ken how things were going to be.

“Ye mistake my intentions in speaking with ye. I am not seeking permission. I dinna need it, nor want it. Lady Sybil is my choice for a bride, and I have every reason to believe she will have me. I am giving ye the courtesy of kenning ahead of time, and asking ye to be helpful to the lass in planning the wedding.”

Her face grew red to the point where he feared she would suffer apoplexy. “I won’t be planning a wedding for a Sassenach. If ye want to make a fool of yerself with the Englishwoman, ye won’t be seeing my hand in it.”

He stood, towering over her, both their bodies shaking with rage. “Woman, ’tis the end of the discussion. I am yer laird, and I order ye to cease your blathering and prepare to make peace with the lass. I won’t have ye causing unhappiness.” He stopped to catch his breath, trying very hard to rein in his anger. “If ye insist on making things miserable for everyone, ye will find yerself living beyond these walls.”

His mum reared back as if slapped. “Ye would put yer own mother aside for a Sassenach?”

“Nay. I would put my own mother aside for my
wife
.” He softened his expression and reached out to her, but she turned away from him. “I just ask ye to give the lass a chance.”

She stubbornly shook her head and then waved her finger at him, much like she had done when he had been a lad and in trouble. “Ye will regret the day ye turned yer back on your Scottish ancestors who are surely today spinning in their graves. Mayhap ye can forget Culloden, but I cannot. Nor how they took our land and tossed us off our farms to starve. We suffered at the hands of the woman ye would make the mum of yer bairns. ’Tis a sad day.”

“By the saints, woman! Ye are speaking history. None of us were even born then. ’Tis time to put yer hatred aside and begin to see what yer future daughter-in-law is like.”

She waved her finger at him. “Ye had yer own dislike of the English all yer life. What has this lass done that changed ye? Or should I take a guess at what she did
for
ye that has ye so bewitched?”

If he’d ever come close to actually striking a woman it was at this very moment. Helping to rein in his anger at his mum’s wicked accusation was the fact that he and Sybil had indeed engaged in improper behavior. But ’twas more than lust that drove him.

“Ye shall not speak of the lass that way ever again!”

He took a calming breath. “She is different from the English. And if ye can’t see it, then yer blind.”

For a minute he thought she intended to continue the argument. Then with a tilt of her chin and a smug look she said, “Ye might still have another chance to wed the right woman.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are ye blathering about now?”

“Ye were betrothed to the McLaughlin lass when ye were a bairn.”

He hadn’t thought of The McLaughlin, nor his daughter for years. He’d still been a lad when the two lairds had stood before a magistrate over a dispute that broke the friendship the men had shared for years. “Aye, And da canceled that betrothal when he and The McLaughlin had a falling out. That was years ago, woman.”

“Aye years ago. Since the matter at the heart of the problem has since been resolved, the bad feelings between our clans is naught.”

He didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “What is yer point?”

“Before ye went to the McKinnon’s wedding, I sent a letter to The McLaughlin, telling him ye were searching for a wife, and he should re-consider his daughter, Anise.”

“Ye did what? Ye had no right!” Blood pounded in his head so fiercely he thought it would spew out his ears.

She drew herself up. “I am yer mother. I had every right to see that you upheld your responsibility to the clan.”

“My responsibility to the clan is mine. And yer attempt to manage my life is for naught since the McLaughlin lass has probably married and has bairns tugging at her skirts.”

“Nay. She was indeed wed, several years ago, but her husband died and her da is anxious to see her wed once again.”

“I wish the man luck, but he will not be wedding the lass to me.”

“Ye can at least take a look at her.”

“Nay. Ye will send a note to the man and tell him I am about to be married to someone else and wish him well with Anise.”

When she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, he said, “Ye Laird is speaking to ye, woman.”

“As you wish,
my laird
.” She turned on her heel and left the room.

Feeling as if all the air had been let out of his lungs, he collapsed into his chair and leaning his head back closed his eyes. But ’twas done. He’d told her what she needed to do.

…

“Why won’t you tell me where we are going?” Sybil tugged on her gloves as Liam hurried her out the door.

“’Tis a surprise. I’ve been busy all morning with correspondence, now I wish to have some time with my lady.”

The afternoon air was warm, making her quite comfortable in just her gown and a light pelisse. She tied the wide ribbons of her bonnet and breathed deeply of the clean, fresh air. The hills were covered in deep and light green shades, reminiscent of a counterpane she’d had on her bed as a young girl. The Highlands was truly a beautiful place.

They wandered along, Liam pointing out various places he’d played as a child, obviously very fond of his country and home.

He gestured toward a gnarled oak tree that seemed to end in the clouds. “’Twas there Duncan and I climbed to the top and were too afraid to come down. The lad and I spent the entire night up there.”

“All night?”

He nodded. “The next morning my da and Laird McKinnon had clansmen from both castles scouring the countryside looking for us. And when they found us, well, ’twas a long punishment, that time.”

“How old were you?”

“About six summers.”

She shivered. “I would be so frightened if a child of mine were missing all night.” Just the thought of sweet little Robert, Drake and Penelope’s boy, being away all night was enough to make her heart beat double time. In England such a thing would not happen. Children were not given such freedom at tender ages.

Liam took her hand in his, and they strolled a bit more until they reached a pond. The water was clear and crisp, with sunlight casting diamond-like sparkles on the water. Another enormous tree, with a rope dangling from one of the branches, hung over the water.

“Let me guess,” Sybil said. “You and Duncan would swing from that rope and land in the pond?”

“Aye. It sounds as though ye may have done the same thing as a lass.”

“We did. Drake snuck a rope from papa’s garden shed and hung the line. He and Joseph, his best friend, tried to keep it a secret from the rest of us, but my sister, Abigail, ferreted out the information. They never had a moment’s peace after that.

“You know, sometimes I find it hard to believe we are all grown up. Joseph is now married to Abigail, Drake is married to his beloved botanist, and Marion’s husband is back home. It doesn’t seem all that long ago that we were all children, running around our estate grounds, getting into trouble.”

“And one day I hope to have our bairns running around here.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Just say the word, lass.”

Deciding silence was the best answer, she continued on. Soon they arrived at the top of a hill, and Sybil gasped as they crested the peak. Before them was the sea, an angry expanse of blue-black water that pounded on the huge rocks, spewing foam high into the air. The salt air blew into their faces, whipping Liam’s hair into his face.

As he stood there surveying the area, his bright green eyes taking in the sight, his massive shoulders an outline against the deep blue sky, he looked much like how she imagined a Scottish warrior from the medieval ages looked. All he was missing was a sporran, broadsword, and his kilt.

The fluttering began in her lower parts as she studied him. Strong chin, high cheekbones, straight nose. With his feet planted apart, his hands fisted on his hips, he was every Scottish combatant from the beginning of time. He turned to her and flashed the grin that never failed to melt her insides.

“Aye, one of my favorite spots.” He took a step down a rocky path toward the sea, then turned and extended his hand. “Come with me, darlin’. Ye need to get closer to the water.”

“Is it safe?”

“I would never let anything happen to ye, lass.” Her heart skipped a beat as he towered over her, watching her with those deep green eyes that had the power to take her breath away. There was so much in his expression that convinced her that this was the right man, at the right time, in the right place. The man she’d waited for. She loved The MacBride, and whatever problems they might face in the future, hopefully they would do it together.

Then like a cloud passing over the sun, she realized no matter how optimistic her thoughts, a niggling of doubt always arose. She was English, Liam was Scottish, and his mother heartily disapproved of any match between them. Could she put aside her own prejudices and raise a child in the Scottish ways? Would they fight the war between England and Scotland in their own bedchamber?

Gripping her hand tightly, he led her down the path to a small beach a short distance from the rugged rocks. Her shoes sank into the wet sand, making a sucking sound when she walked. But it was worth the discomfort to feel the spray of water on her face and inhale the salt and brine.

She gripped the ribbons of her bonnet as she fought the wind to keep it on her head, and her pelisse around her body. The harshness of the ocean as the waves pounded the rocks heightened her senses, bringing with it an excitement she’d never felt before. She stopped for a moment to watch nature’s breathtaking show. Without a word, Liam bent and scooped her into his arms.

“What are you doing?” She laughed at the combination of salt, sand, and sunshine. And the man who held her in his powerful arms. No, nothing could go wrong with Liam by her side.

“Yer such a wee little thing, I’m afraid the wind will carry ye away from me. I’m going to deliver ye to that rock yonder.” He gestured with his chin to a large boulder that looked like a seat had been carved out in the middle of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Peace settled over her. This was right.

Once he had her firmly on the rock, he grinned and pulled something from his pocket. What was this man up to now? Liam cleared his throat, and all of a sudden his expression grew thoughtful and—scared? Her heart filled at the vulnerable look on his face.

Staring directly at her, he took her hand in his and went down on one knee. He kissed her fingertips and said, “Lass, I’ve asked ye this a few times before, but now I’m wanting an answer. I love ye, Lady Sybil, and wish more than anything in the world to have ye for my wife. Unless I’ve lost all my ability to judge people, I think ye care for me, too. So, one more time. Will ye marry me?”