The Highlander's Choice (2 page)

She slowed her horse, then pulled on the animal’s reins until she came to a stop. “It is merely a bit of rain. I won’t melt.” The horse danced in place, shaking his head.

No wonder he’d taken her for a lad. She wore breeches, snug around her bottom and legs. The white billowing shirt she wore tucked into her breeches was already wet, starting to outline her body beneath the cloth. Despite her small stature, she had a fine set of…

He snorted. A bit of rain, indeed. Just then the heavens opened to prove her a liar and dumped enough water on them to turn her shirt transparent.

“Oh.” She glanced down at herself and wrapped her arms around her breasts. Water trickled down her nose, which she attempted to wipe off with her elbows, still keeping her chest covered. Her hair had been braided and wrapped around her head, but loose curls lay flat against her neck and forehead. She looked not much older than a bairn.

“I guess we better return to the stable.” She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the water out of her eyes.

“Ach, ye think so, lass?”

She lifted her chin, water sluicing down. “There is no need for sarcasm.”

He turned Cadeym, going slow now since the wet ground was quickly turning to mud, sucking at the horses hooves. If they weren’t careful one of the horses could slip and injure itself.

They’d gone only about a half mile when the lass let out with a screech and slid to the ground, landing on her bum. Her horse threw its head, the saddle hanging on its side. Without looking back, the animal walked off, leaving her sitting on the ground.

“Oh!” She slapped the muddy ground with her fists, spraying mud over her shirt and face.

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, Liam jumped from his horse and strode to where she sat. Anger flashed in her whiskey colored eyes as she glared up at him.

“Is there a problem, lass?”

“Don’t you dare laugh! I’ve never fallen off a horse in my life. It must be these Scottish animals.” She tried to push herself up, but her feet slid out from under her and she fell back down. Liam reached his hand out. Obviously not happy about accepting his help, she took hold of his hand nevertheless, and he pulled her up.

She placed her fists on her hips and gazed at the rear end of her horse making its way back to the dry, warm stable. “Now what do I do?”

“Well, lass, the only thing you can do is ride with me.”

She looked at him aghast. “With you?”

“I imagine ye could wait here until a riderless horse ambles by, but it might be some time, and I’m anxious to get back to Dundas.”

He tried very hard not to notice how her wet clothes clung to her body. He would never have expected this English miss to wear breeches and ride a horse astride. Despite her small size, the lass had plenty of curves under those wet garments. “Well what will it be, lass? We’ll be drowning soon.”

“Very well. I will ride with you,” she said, none too graciously. She glared up at him, the water plopping onto her chest from her pert nose.

Where were all those fine English manners?

…

Before she could catch her breath, Liam wrapped his hands around her waist and hoisted her onto the horse. Within seconds, he was behind her and urging the horse forward. The rain continued to pelt them as they made their way back. She still couldn’t believe she’d slid off the horse. No doubt the girth hadn’t been tight enough, but she’d never made that mistake before.

“Why aren’t you in a riding outfit, mounted on a sidesaddle as a proper English miss?”

“Not that it is any of your concern, but I prefer breeches when I’m riding in the country. The freedom is wonderful. As a man, you have no idea how cumbersome a riding outfit is, and how awkward you must position yourself on a side saddle. All the women in my family ride this way when we’re not in Town.”

She held herself stiffly, not wanting to touch his body, which was indeed hard to ignore. The man was so large it was as if he surrounded her completely. His arms rested against hers as he held the reins and directed the horse. She began to shiver, the cold rain soaking to her skin through her clothes. Since she always left off her stays when she donned her outfit for riding, the chill seemed to go to her very bones.

“If you lean back against me, lass, you won’t be so cold.”

“I am fine, thank you.” To belie her words, she only shook more. Goodness, the rain was cold. She was sure her lips were blue. The downpour continued, making her miserable.

“Ye will be throwing yourself to the ground again if you don’t stop the shaking. Lean against me, and we can share the warmth.”

She’d never been so cold in her life. Despite her misgivings, she eased back against Liam’s chest, his body warm despite being as wet as hers. It was slow going with the rain and wind so fierce. This was not the soft rain of England, but a wild gale such as she had never seen. So fitting in the rugged beauty of the Highlands.

Sybil tried very hard to ignore the feel and smell of the man behind her. His warm breath teased the skin on the back of her neck, not doing much for her shivers. Her bottom was snug against an area of which a proper young lady never took notice. Had she been caught riding in this manner in London, she would be forced to marry the barbarian.

The miserable ride made conversation impossible, which was fine with her. She had nothing to say to the man, and only ached for the trip to come to an end so she could strip off all her wet clothes and climb into a hot bath. After having her lady’s maid, Bessie, fix her a hot toddy, she would have a tray sent to her room so she could stay in bed. She would be lucky if she didn’t catch a chill after this debacle.

They emerged from the wooded area surrounding the castle, and her spirits rose when the stable came into view. Sybil leaned forward, anxious now to be away from Liam and his enveloping warmth.

“Easy, lass. We’re almost there, and ye don’t want to slip again.” His deep voice rolled over her, making her even more anxious to leave his presence. She didn’t like the way he made her feel, and had no intention of examining why that was. They reached the stable, and she sighed with relief as he swung his leg over and dropped to the ground.

Without a word, he encircled her waist and pulled her off the horse. She rested her palms on his shoulders as he lifted her down, his muscles rippling under her hands as he moved his arms. Her mouth dried up, and her heart did a double beat as her eyes connected with his. His eyes grew wide, and he appeared as startled as she.

Good heavens, the last thing I want is to feel an attraction to a whiskey swilling, brawling, lustful Scot.

Chapter Two

The next morning Sybil entered the great hall for breakfast where one of the maids had directed her. The room was quite large, with an immense fireplace against one wall. Colorful and well maintained tapestries hung on the walls, blocking out the fierce Scotland winds. A small fire burned brightly, warming the area directly in front of it, where Lord Somerville, Duncan, and Liam sat breaking their fast. All three rose as she approached the long table.

“A surprise, my lady. I thought the ladies would all be abed this morning.” Duncan pulled out a chair for her.

“I enjoy morning very much. Once the sun is up, I am unable to stay asleep.” She took the platters passed to her from the men and filled her plate with eggs,
sausage, some type of bread that resembled a scone, and cheese. She passed on the items she didn’t recognize.

“I’m happy to see ye haven’t had to take to yer bed with the ague,” Liam said.

“Not at all. I can assure you I have a strong constitution, sir.” She picked up her fork and regarded him. “What do I call you? My laird? My lord?”

He sat back and grinned at her. “Liam will do nicely.” He eyed her plate. “Surely ye want some black pudding and porridge. And perhaps some haggis?” Liam’s eyes danced with mirth. Did the man do nothing but tease?

“Thank you, but I have never tried haggis or black pudding, and porridge is not one of my favorite dishes.”

“Ach, you must try it at least,” Liam said, cutting a piece of the pudding and plopping it rudely onto her plate. The challenge in his eyes had her stiffening her shoulders. Whatever game the man was playing did not amuse her. Somehow she felt he was testing her mettle and was waiting for her to snap at him again, which he seemed to be expecting.

Conjuring up her sweetest smile, she cut a small piece of the pudding and put it into her mouth. The strong taste was not unpleasant. She tried another bite and found she actually liked it. “Very good.”

Liam looked nonplussed at her, which made her grin. The man really was baiting her, and she’d disappointed him. This visit might be quite fun, after all. There was nothing she enjoyed more than sparring with a worthy opponent, and she believed Laird
MacBride
was indeed a laudable adversary. Even though he was a Scot.

The exchange made her ache once again for her twin. They’d had so many giggles over the years that perhaps matching swords with Liam could distract her.

“Once Lady Margaret and Lady Somerville are up and about, I thought we might take a ride into the village and visit the stores. I know ladies like to shop,” Duncan said.

“And mayhaps we can take luncheon at the Maydenhead Inn.” Liam added as he settled his napkin alongside his plate.

Sybil choked on the sausage she was eating, causing Liam to tap her between her shoulders.
Maidenhead Inn?
Leave it to the barbaric Scots to name an inn thus.

“Is something amiss, lass?” Liam’s barely controlled laughter tightened her muscles. Had she not known better she would have sworn he’d made up that name merely to unsettle her. But this was Scotland. No doubt there would be such a place in the village.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not at all. A piece of sausage merely went the wrong way.” Waving her hand in dismissal, she took a sip of tea.

The rest of the meal passed in pleasant conversation, but Sybil kept herself on alert for Liam’s next attempt to test her. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and she was more than prepared to pick it up. Matching wits with the Highlander could be quite entertaining.

Once the other ladies had arisen, the three of them and Lord Somerville entered the well-sprung carriage and headed to town. Liam and Duncan rode their horses, the weather having cleared since yesterday’s storm. Bright sunlight beamed down on the group, the countryside freshened with the previous day’s rain. Once again, Sybil was charmed by the beautiful countryside. As far as the eye could see, rolling hills of grass, dotted with sheep and snug little stone cottages gave the area an appearance of a carefully painted landscape. She had to admit the sight was truly beautiful. Too bad Scotland was inhabited by Scots.

As she gazed out the window, her view was suddenly blocked. Duncan and Liam rode next to the carriage. She studied Liam, the nearest to her. He certainly sat a horse well. His bulging thighs gripped the horse’s side as he held the reins gently, allowing his legs to drive the animal. The two men were deep in conversation, which gave her the opportunity to study the rest of the man.

Despite the cooler weather, Liam rode with only a shirt, jacket, boots, and breeches. The wind plastered the jacket to his chest, outlining the man underneath. Today his hair was pulled back into a queue, tied with a ribbon. Her breath caught as his horse moved up farther and she got a glimpse of his backside. Heat rose in her face, and she quelled the urge to fan her cheeks.

Without warning, he turned his head and gazed directly into her eyes. He broke into a disarming smile and gave her a slight salute. Drat! He’d caught her staring again. Flustered, she drew herself up and leaned forward as if someone across from her were speaking. How embarrassing!

The village was delightful. A couple dozen shops, all connected together, lined both sides of the street. They passed a draper, milliner, dry goods, blacksmith, and boot maker. On the opposite side stood a small schoolhouse, a lovely stone church, and a rather large general store with a painted sign stating
Jennie Awthings
. At the very end of the street, up on a small hill, was
The Maydenhead Inn
. So he hadn’t made the name up.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the milliner. Lord Somerville climbed out first, then turned to assist his wife and the other two ladies. Duncan and Liam tethered their horses and joined the group. “What shall it be first, ladies? Ribbons, hats, gloves?”

Lady Margaret and her mother opted to visit the milliner. Sybil elected to visit the bookstore between the church and schoolhouse.

“Bookstore, lass?” Liam’s raised brows almost reached his hairline.

She eyed him coolly. “Yes. I do know how to read.”

“I never doubted ye for a moment.” He grinned at her. “Mayhap I’ll join ye. ’Tis been a while since I’ve visited the bookstore.”

She smiled sweetly. “Do you know which one it is, or do I need to read the shop’s names for you?”

Liam burst out with laughter. “Nay, lass. I ken which one the bookstore is. ’Tis the one with the books in the window.”

“How very clever, my laird.”

“Liam,” he responded. He extended his arm to Sybil, and she took it even though she didn’t want to be so close to the Scot. Her stomach performed a small little ballet, and her breathing sped up. Perhaps she had caught a chill, after all. Her skin certainly felt flushed.

…

Liam held the door open to the bookstore, and Lady Sybil passed through. So far the lass had done everything counter to what he’d expected. Riding in pants, joining the men for an early breakfast, and now when the other ladies were inspecting ribbons and bows, this unusual Englishwoman was strolling the aisles of the bookstore.

“What are your favorite books?” Hands linked behind his back, Liam walked alongside her.

“I like novels. As well as books on history and geography.”

“And what novels have ye found to your liking?”

She pulled a book from the shelf and turned to him. “Miss Jane Austen is probably the author whose novels I’ve read the most. I read
Pride and Prejudice
as well as her
Sense and Sensibility
.”

“Ah, very fine stories.”

Sybil’s eyes widened. “You are familiar with Miss Austen’s works?”

“Indeed I am. I have also read
Pride and Prejudice
as well as
Sense and Sensibility
.” He loved the surprised look on the lass’s face. No doubt she believed all Scotsmen to be barbaric illiterates. For now, he would keep his attendance at University of Edinburg to himself.

“I also enjoyed reading
Patronage
by Maria Edgeworth.” He paused as her jaw dropped. “I believe Miss Edgeworth has a gift for expressing social mores by the use of clever dialog. And then, of course, there is Frances Burney’s
The Wanderer
. A most interesting story of women’s economic plight.”

He leaned over and used his index finger to raise Sybil’s chin to close her mouth. “Ye might catch a bug or two that way, lass.”

She yanked her head back and smoothed her hair, almost knocking her hat off. “I must admit, I am a bit surprised at the types of books you are familiar with.”

“So it seems.”

They continued to wander the room, pulling random books, discussing their merits, Liam trying his best to disconcert her. Why he was interested in raising her opinion of him remained a question. What did he care what a frivolous Sassenach thought of him? Except Lady Sybil was no frivolous lass. And certainly quite different from what he believed all Englishwomen to be.

A bell sounded as the door of the bookstore opened. Duncan walked up to them. “We are ready for luncheon. The others have gone up to the inn. Are ye both finished?”

“Yes.” Sybil smiled and lifted the two books she’d chosen and moved to the counter. After laying them down, she calculated the coins to pay for them. Liam followed her and paid for the three books he had selected.

…

It was a short walk through the village and up to the inn. The Maydenhead Inn. Despite its vulgar name, the inside was quite pleasant, and the smell of fresh bread and some type of stew filled the air. Not even realizing she was hungry, Sybil was embarrassed to hear her stomach making ravenous noises. She glanced sheepishly up at Liam and met his laughing eyes. Despite the discomfort at her unladylike display, she had to grin at his mirthful glance.

Then she chastised herself. She should not want to share books, surreptitious jokes, and hunger pangs with this man. She wanted to watch her best friend marry and then return to civilization. Maybe not all Scots were illiterate barbarians, but that didn’t mean she and this Scot could develop a
tendre.
She distrusted Scots and just because this one could spew some fancy book titles hadn’t changed her mind.

Then she wondered why she was trying so hard to convince herself of this.

“We have some tasty lamb stew today, along with bread fresh out of the oven.” A plump red-faced woman wiped her hands on her apron as she spoke to the group.

“That sounds fine to me,” Duncan said.

Everyone else nodded their agreement, and the woman hurried away. Sybil’s stomach gave another growl, and she glanced around the table. Of course the only person who noticed was Liam, who grinned.

“All that strolling around the book store has strengthened yer appetite.” He spoke softly enough that no one else heard him.

Sybil tried very hard to cast him a stern glance, but her sense of humor got the best of her and she chuckled. It was truly an embarrassment, but nothing she could control. Liam looked at her with something akin to approval when she shrugged at her latest
faux pas
.

“Good for ye, lass.”

Why did she glow under his praise? She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the reactions she continued to have with this man.

“How are the wedding plans coming along, McKinnon?” Lord Somerville asked.

“Mrs. Galbraith tells me all is in order. The guests will begin arriving on the morrow, and everyone has been in a flutter getting things ready. I believe she has some activities planned for the visitors.”

“Will there be a ball?” Margaret asked.

“Yes. I believe Mrs. Galbraith has one set for two nights hence. I’m sure you ladies will be thrilled at the social doings.”

“Yes, I think a ball is just the thing,” Lady Somerville said. “Do you do much entertaining, McKinnon?”

“Not since mum passed. She had all the contacts, but now that Margaret will soon be my lady wife, I expect she will want to rekindle friendships with the neighboring families.”

Lady Somerville turned to Liam. “Tell us a bit about your home.”

Sybil was disgusted with herself at how interested she was in his answer. Yet she leaned forward, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“Da died several years ago. My mum manages my home until such time as I take a wife. Having done so for years, she is most efficient, and things run smoothly. We do some entertaining, but less as the years go on since mum is more than ready to hand over the responsibilities.”

Lady Somerville regarded him. “You are betrothed, then?”

“No, my lady. But if my mum had her way, I would be married and already filling the nursery with bairns.”

Sybil felt a jolt of what she hoped was not jealousy. She did not care who this Scot took to wife. That was a role she would never covet, and indeed she’d run screaming from the room if he even suggested such a thing.

Satisfied that she’d straightened that out with herself, she smiled at Liam, thereby assuring him that she had no designs on his person—or his would-be nursery filled with bairns.

“Now that I am to be married soon, I am hoping my friend joins me in matrimony.” Duncan slanted a look at Liam that Sybil was sure was meant to nudge him toward the altar.

She certainly wished a happy life to whatever woman the barbarian chose. Hopefully, the poor girl would know ahead of time that all he would do is swill whiskey, pick fights, and charm his way into numerous beds. Since that thought had nothing at all to do with her experience thus far with the man, it didn’t sit quite well, but that was something she wasn’t going to bother with. All Scots were the same, and therefore Liam would be, as well.

“And what of you, lass?” Liam asked. “Now that your friend is to be married, will you be joining her?”

Sybil’s face heated at his impertinent question. No gentleman would ask such a thing. Ill-mannered lout! “I have no desire to seek matrimony until an acceptable gentleman presents himself.” She emphasized
gentleman
, hoping the rude Scot would understand she did not find him of that ilk.