The Pursuit (2 page)

K
IMBERLY
MacGregor waved the letter in her hand to gain her husband’s attention as he entered her sitting room. “Megan has written again,” she told him. “She has invitations piling up, too many as usual, but in this case that’s ideal. Lets her pick and choose which will be more pertinent to the task at hand. She’s sounding really excited. ’Course, she did own up to how bored she was when she made the suggestion, what with Devlin away on business and expected to be gone the whole summer. Want to read it?”

“Nay.”

That answer was too abrupt and a bit disgruntled-sounding for a man of Lachlan MacGregor’s easy temperament. “You aren’t having second thoughts about letting Melissa go to London, are you?”

“Aye.”

“Lachlan!”

His disgruntled tone now had a matching look to it when he said, “I dinna like asking the duke and duchess o’ Wrothston for favors.”

Kimberly relaxed. She should have known. Lachlan might get along famously these days with Devlin St. James when he and his wife, Megan, came to visit them at Kregora Castle, or vice versa, but it wasn’t always that way. They had in fact met under bizarre circumstances…well, not so much bizarre as well planned and executed.

Lachlan had been reaving in those days—the polite term for robbing—reaving the English along the border, to support kith and kin after his stepmother ran off with his inheritance. And Megan and Devlin happened to pick Scotland to elope to, which was how they crossed paths with him.

That might have been well and fine and the end of it, except that Lachlan fancied himself smitten by the lovely Megan and elected to steal her away as well as Devlin’s purse that day. Even that had ended well enough, since Devlin gave hot pursuit to retrieve his duchess-to-be and thrashed Lachlan soundly for his audacity.

Oddly, that still wasn’t the end of it, however, because unbeknownst to them both, the two men were related by marriage, sharing the same aunt, and when Lachlan decided to put reaving behind him—it had never really worked to support his clan—and marry a wealthy heiress instead to solve the problem of his lack of funds, he turned
to that aunt to help him find a likely bride. And his Aunt Margaret just happened to be visiting her grandnephew Devlin in England at the time.

Kimberly had met Lachlan there at Wrothston—was there for the same reason as he, actually, to find a spouse. He was distracted from that purpose briefly, not having known that the lady he’d tried to abduct with matrimony in mind the previous year was now happily wed to his host. That Megan was now the Duchess of Wrothston didn’t deter him from trying to lure her away from her duke.

Kimberly had been aware of his fancy for the lovely Megan, so she had immediately scratched him off her possible-husband-for-herself list, despite her strong attraction to him. But they ended up crossing paths much too often, having been put in the same wing of the huge mansion, and although on the surface they rubbed each other wrong—causing many a harsh word—as fate would have it, the attraction was actually mutual, and Lachlan ended up seducing Kimberly instead.

Devlin, of course, hadn’t been too happy about letting the Scottish reaver who’d tried to steal his bride abide under his roof, even if they were somewhat related by marriage through their mutual aunt. Not surprisingly, he’d jumped on the first excuse to give Lachlan a more thorough beating than the previous one he’d administered. To grant Lachlan his due, that was accomplished only because he’d made himself sick unto death
with drink—because of Kimberly. He
was
a bit over six and a half feet tall, after all, and had a strapping, muscular body to go with that height, so he was easily able to come out the winner in most fights.

Devlin might have had to apologize for accusing Lachlan of stealing some of his prime horse-flesh, which he was innocent of, and the beating he gave him because of it, but they’d become friends in the end—well, a few years down the road anyway—and were still good friends. Which didn’t account for Lachlan’s remark about favors, which Kimberly addressed now.

“This was Megan’s idea, so there’s no favor involved,” she reminded him. “As soon as she heard that all of Melissa’s beaus were being frightened off by my overprotective brothers, she suggested Meli come to England, where the MacFearsons are unknown. You agreed it was a good idea. I agreed it was an excellent idea. And Meli is looking forward to it. So don’t be having second thoughts now.”

“I assumed she’d be staying at Wrothston as we do when we visit them in England, no’ in London town,” he grumbled. “The lass has been tae Wrothston enough tae be comfortable and feel right at home. London’s no’ the same, and she’ll be nervous enough—”

“Nervous?” Kimberly interrupted. “Our daughter is
excited
about this trip. She’s not the least bit nervous. If anyone’s nervous, it’s you, and you and I aren’t even going until later in the
summer. Is that it, then? You’re letting your worry for her override your better judgment?”

“Nae, I just dinna want her feeling she has tae find a husband afore she comes home. That’s too much pressure tae be putting on her at her young age. You have assured her…?”

“Yes, yes, I’ve assured her she can be an old maid if she’d like.”

“Och, this isna funny, Kimber.”

She tsked at him. “You’re the one making too much out of it. Most young girls her age go through this—I did myself. Now,
I
might have been nervous about it, but Meli really isn’t. She plans to have fun, to make some new friends, to be awed by such a big town as London is,
and
she even figures she’ll probably find a husband while she’s at it. But that’s not at the top of her list by any means. She thought
we
wanted her to make a concerted effort to get affianced, but I’ve assured her if she does, that’s fine, and if she doesn’t, that’s fine, too. Maybe you should tell her the same before she leaves, so she can just relax and let happen what happens. Now, have we covered all your last-minute doubts?”

“Nae, ’tis still a huge undertaking tae be putting on the duchess on our behalf.”

“Would you like us to go as well for the whole summer, instead of just a few weeks as we planned?”

He looked appalled as she expected. “You said that wouldna be necessary.”

“Nor is it, so don’t backtrack. We covered
Megan’s willingness already. And furthermore, she isn’t planning any events herself, she merely has invitations lined up that she was no doubt going to accept anyway. Besides, she adores Meli and is an old hand at this sort of thing. She sponsored me, didn’t she? And had a hand in matching you and me to wedded bliss.”

That distracted a grin out of him. “Is that what we’ve been having, darlin’? Wedded bliss?”

She quirked a golden brow at him, asked, “You don’t think so?”

He pulled her to her feet, then meshed her hips to his. “I’d be calling it heaven m’self.”

“Would you, now?” She grinned back at him, then made a face, “Bah, you’re not going to get out of this subject that easily. Why are you
really
having doubts now? And no more of these lame reasons that don’t wash.”

He sighed. “I had the hope remaining that our lass would end up wi’ a fine Scot brave enough tae ignore the legend and trounce any o’ your brothers that think tae bully him.”

“What an unkind thought,” she said, and smacked his shoulder before she moved away from him. “I love my brothers—”

“I know you do, Kimber, and I even tolerate them m’self, but you canna deny they deserve a trouncing or two for scaring off
all
o’ Meli’s suitors. If we didna have friends in England willing tae sponser her for a season there, the poor lass could end up permanently unwed, and I want m’daughter tae be as happy in wedlock as I’ve made you.”

She chuckled. “Listen to that bragging.”

“True nonetheless,” he said with complete confidence.

“Perhaps,” she allowed with a teasing grin, but then she got serious again. “As for Meli and her future happiness, is the nationality of the man she loses her heart to really of importance to you? And before you answer, keep in mind that if you say yes, your English wife will be insulted.”

He laughed at the warning. “Half-English wife, though one could wish your Scottish half didna come from the MacFearson himself.”

She ignored the reference to her father this time. “Answer me.”

“Nay, darlin’, the hope was no’ that her husband be Scottish exactly. It was more that he just hail from closer tae home than England is. I’m no’ looking forward tae our lass moving far away, is all,” he ended with another sigh.

She moved closer again to cup his cheeks in her hands. “You
knew
that would be a distinct possibility.”

“Aye.”

“You knew also that her prospects in
our
neighborhood were very slim. We don’t exactly live near any towns up here, and the other clans nearby don’t have any sons of an age appropriate for our lass. And being the MacGregor’s daughter limits her choices even further.”

“Aye, I ken that as well.”

“So this is all just a father bemoaning the loss of his only daughter in marriage, even before she’s married?” she asked in exasperation.

He nodded with a sheepish look. She decided not to scold him for such silliness, said instead, “Lach, I’ll be just as unhappy to see her go, but we knew from the day she was born that she would be leaving us one day to start her own family, and even then we didn’t expect her to start that family near to Kregora Castle. Granted, we weren’t thinking as far as England, but still—”

Kimberly amazed even herself when she suddenly burst into tears. Lachlan gathered her close, made all the soothing sounds appropriate to comforting. She finally pushed away from him, annoyed with herself.

“Don’t ask where that came from,” she mumbled.

He grinned at her, though it was obvious he was still remorseful. “I’m sorry, Kimber. I didna mean tae refresh all your own misgivings.”

“You didn’t. Unlike you, I’m delighted Meli has this opportunity for a season in London. I just…” She paused for a sigh of her own. “Just had the same hope as you still lurking, though I
thought
I had given up on that long ago. And it
is
pointless. Even those few young lads who did come to call on her live miles away, which is probably why
you
weren’t all that displeased when they got run off.”

“Miles away is no distance a’tall up here. They just didna impress me too much is all, and rightly so as it turned out. Look how quickly they turned tail when your brothers started in on them. That last one made his excuses after one wee warning
from Ian Two that he’d be displeased if his niece was e’er made unhappy.”

“I think it was Ian Two’s tone, and possibly because he had a fistful of the poor boy’s shirt when he said it.”

They both laughed for a moment, remembering how quickly the suitor had departed for home. He’d practically run for the door the moment after he’d made his excuses. The laughter eased their misgivings, or at least put them back in perspective.

“Och, well, this trip canna be avoided, I suppose,” Lachlan conceded.

“No, it can’t.”

“Speaking o’ which, is Meli done wi’ her packing?”

“She’s not leaving for three more days, so there’s plenty time to finish that up. She’s gone to see my father, probably will be spending the night. Actually, I think her intent was to assure my brothers that she forgave them for ruining her prospects here at home—a few of them have been quite guilty over that, if you didn’t know, even though the lads who came to call this last year she wasn’t much interested in—so no harm was done as she sees it. She was also going to assure them that when the right man for her comes along, she’ll know it herself, so they needn’t worry on that account.”

“She actually thinks saying so will assure them of anything?”

“Well, she’s hoping.” Kimberly grinned. “My brothers
can
be reasoned with—some of the time.”

Lachlan snorted. Kimberly had met her brothers late in her life, had grown up thinking she was an only child and didn’t learn about them until Lachlan brought her to Scotland as his bride. They’d shown up on his doorstep—or, to be more exact, crossed his drawbridge en masse, all sixteen of them. But they’d merely been the vanguard for her real father, whom she’d never met before either, a legend in the Highlands, and not a favorable one.

Ian MacFearson. It was a name mothers used to admonish their children into behaving. He was reputed to be a blackhearted rogue of the worst sort, so mean he’d sit back and laugh while his sons tried to kill each other—which he encouraged. Others insisted he was just an old recluse who hadn’t left his home for over forty years—but why do so, when he had his own harem there? Still others maintained he’d been dead for years and his ghost now haunted the old ruined fortress he’d secluded himself in all those years ago. None of which was true, but then not many people had ever met Ian MacFearson to find out otherwise.

He
had
been a recluse, and he left his home these days only to visit Kimberly and her family at Kregora Castle, though, as was more often the case, she had to do the visiting instead. She never minded. She rather liked the fancy surrounding his home, the gloomy atmosphere, the barren trees, the hovering dark clouds usually present, reminding her of a witch’s castle high up on a
cloud-covered mountain, rather than the old fortress-converted-to-manor set on a rocky promontory that it was. And there was nothing gloomy on the inside, with her boisterous brothers in residence.

Nor was there any truth to the legend that her brothers were always trying to kill each other, though some of their fights might make it seem otherwise. They merely fought as brothers will, not with any deadly intent. If anything, they were fanatically loyal—insult one and you’d have the whole pack to deal with.

The harem tale was also silly, though understandable considering the number of sons Ian had sired. Although they all shared the same father, only a few of them shared the same mother, and all of them
were
bastards. Ian had never married. He’d wanted to, had loved Kimberly’s mother most of his life, but her parents had forced her to wed the earl of Amburough instead, the man Kimberly had
thought
was her father until he drunkenly confessed that Ian had that distinction.