Read To Catch a Highlander Online
Authors: Karen Hawkins
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
To Catch a Highlander (15 page)
Her knuckles whitened on the pommel. "No."
A blast of lightning crashed behind the house, turning the entire world white for a second. The horses shied, but the groom held them tightly.
"Pardon me, miss,"
Shelton
said nervously. "It'd probably be best if'n ye did as his lordship asks."
"I can get down myself." She met Dougal's glare. "I will
not
be fumed at in such a manner. Furthermore, I refuse to be affected by these cheap theatrics!" She gestured to the boiling sky.
"Gor'!"
Shelton
covered his eyes with one hand.
Dougal instantly went from mad to furious, and the clouds rumbled to life. Yet in that instant, he realized that this tiny little bit of a woman had just reduced centuries of a dramatic and secretive curse to "cheap theatrics." He didn't know whether to rage or laugh, but somehow, looking up into her amazing blue eyes, laughter was beginning to win.
"Furthermore," she continued in high dudgeon, "I won't be cowed by a few damned drops of rain!"
Shelton
groaned loudly. "Law, here it comes now."
But it didn't. Instead, a chuckle rippled through Dougal.
Sophia appeared outraged. "Are you laughing at me?"
"No, sweetheart. I'm laughing at
us
. We cannot even ride from the field to the house without racing. We're doomed to challenge each other forever, and if we don't have a care, my temper will fry the two of us like sausages over a spit."
Her lips quivered in response. "I don't particularly care for that image."
"I haven't time for elegance, my love. It
is
getting ready to rain, so sausages are all you'll get."
She laughed then, the light peal dissipating every drop of anger. Dougal laughed, too, and
Shelton
gave a huge sigh of relief.
Dougal was still laughing as he lifted her to the ground. She was so delicately curvy his hands spanned her waist. From her height to her nose, she was a miniature. He'd forgotten that when she was in the saddle, for she was a bruising rider.
This once again made him imagine her riding
him
, her firm thighs on his hips, her lush breasts bare, within reach of—
Aroused beyond belief, Dougal set Sophia on her feet rather suddenly.
Dougal was vaguely aware of
Shelton
leading the horses off to the barn.
Sophia peeped up at him, her hair down around her shoulders. "You have a horrible temper."
"It's the bane of my family."
She glanced past him to the clouds overhead. "So the curse is true?"
Dougal winced inwardly. The family curse was not a topic that could be mentioned lightly; women inevitably wished to know more. And with Sophia so tantalizingly close, talking was the last thing he wished to do.
He shrugged and murmured a dismissive, "Perhaps."
He couldn't stop looking at her lips, lush and moist. It was all he could do not to take them with his own. His hands tightened on her waist.
She colored and tried to step back, but Dougal refused to allow her to do so.
Her eyes narrowed, and she said in a cool voice, "At least, we managed to tour the property. I'm afraid it hasn't been well managed; you should know that, as you're to take possession."
Suddenly, Dougal was weary of the pretense. He wished she'd just tell him the truth, that she didn't want him to take her house, though he had no idea how he'd reply. He was not a romantic, handing out large gifts merely because a lady's eyes were an unusual shade of turquoise, any more than he was a fool who folded before a woman's tears.
He was a man of reason and common sense, a man who did not allow emotion to move him. Still, for reasons he didn't quite understand, he wished she'd simply be honest with him.
She plopped her fists on her hips, the wind whipping her golden hair about her face. "Any other man would thank me for my honesty."
The word grated on him, and he lashed out, "I must assume the neglect is your father's fault."
Her eyes flashed. "My father is a good steward."
"Oh? Then why is the house in such poor condition?"
She opened her mouth to protest, and he could tell that while she didn't like his question, she couldn't very well refute it. "My father was not here very often."
"
Someone
planted those lovely flowers near the lake. They also spent a lot of time on the garden in the back of the house." At her surprised look, he added in a dry tone, "I'm not blind, you know." His gaze flicked down to her breasts, interestingly encased in her tight riding habit. "I can see
very
well."
Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to pull away again.
Behind Dougal came a bang, like the sound of a large door slamming, and Sophia's eyes widened. "Angus,
no
!" she cried.
"Ye misbegotten bounder!" Angus roared.
Dougal turned just in time to see a huge fist hit him squarely in the eye.
Thanks to Sophia, who'd jumped up and clung tightly to Angus's huge arm, the punch was softened. Otherwise, not only would it have knocked Dougal down (which it did), and not only would it have sent the world dark (which it did), and not only would it have blacked his eye (which it did), but it also might have killed him. Instead, Angus's slowed fist merely smashed into Dougal's face, spun him around, and laid him out as neatly as a piece of firewood.
So… ye made yer da' angry by tellin' him a fib, did ye? Let that be a lesson to ye, then. If ye tell a fib, ye'll pay the price, so make certain it's worth it.
Old Woman Nora from
Loch Lomond
to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening
"
Dougal
!" Sophia dropped to her knees beside his prostrate form and scanned him anxiously. Though blood ran down his cheek, his color was good, and he was breathing.
"I should kick 'im, too," Angus said sourly.
Sophia glared. "What is wrong with you?"
"Yer hair!"
"My hair?" She touched her hair, then winced. "The wind tore off my hat and the pins with it. That's all; nothing happened."
"He was holdin' ye, too," Angus growled. "Had yer father seen it, he would have—"
"He would have had the good sense to leave me be! How am I to gain MacLean's trust if you attack him for helping me down from my horse?"
"Yer horse is already in the barn," Angus said stubbornly.
Mary appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene at a glance. "Angus, ye hothead! What have ye done?" She rushed forward, stooping beside Dougal and dabbing at his cut face with the edge of her apron as she castigated her husband. "Ye fool! What did ye think ye were doin'?"
"What I should've done afore," he said. "And I'll do it again once't he rises."
"You will not!" Sophia flew to her feet, her hands on her hips.
"He had his hands on ye," Angus repeated.
"He was doing nothing that I didn't want him to do," Sophia snapped.
Angus growled.
Mary looked up, her brows raised high.
Sophia rubbed her temples, which were beginning to ache. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that he was doing nothing wrong, nothing that Red would object to."
Angus's scowl deepened. "I'm beginning to think yer father don't understand what's at stake."
"My father lost this house, and I must win it back. Do you want to see us tossed into the street, homeless?"
Angus looked uncertainly at Dougal's prostrate form, caught Mary's accusing gaze, and sighed. "Och, now, miss. I dinna wish ye to lose yer home. Ye know I don't."
"I know what sort of a man Dougal is, Angus. Though he may dally with loose women, he's been raised a gentleman. He would never touch me unless I gave him permission." He might use incredibly powerful seduction tactics, but that was her problem, not Angus's.
"Aye," Mary said. "Don't ye remember how the miss took care o' the squire's son when he tried to kiss her in the garden?" She beamed at Sophia. "That was well done."
Sophia grinned. "He limped for a week."
Angus grunted. "The squire's son isn't half the man this one is. This is no boy ye're dealin' with here. He's a man's man; ye can see it in his eyes."
She placed a hand on his arm. "Angus, if it will make you feel better, I promise to call for help if MacLean so much as looks askance at me."
A distressed look filled his broad face. "If'n ye'll promise, miss, then I'll try to—"
Dougal moaned and raised a hand to his forehead.
Sophia dropped to her knees beside him. His left eye was swollen and red and would turn darker soon. Worse was the cut where Angus's knuckle had split the skin on Dougal's cheek.
Mary patted the trickle of blood away with her apron. "There, there, Lord MacLean. Don't move until ye've got yer breath." She glanced up at her husband. "Angus, be of use, and bring us a cold, wet cloth."
Angus nodded and turned toward the house.
Sophia helped Dougal sit upright. He leaned against her but managed to sustain most of his own weight.
His coat rubbed against her cheek, and she was assailed with the faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of him through the fine material. She cleared her throat and said in a slightly husky voice, "How do you feel?"
He touched his eye and winced. "What happened?"
"Angus."
Dougal's brows lowered as the realization flooded through him. "That bloody bull hit me!"
A huge blast of wind suddenly pummeled them all. Sophia's skirts were flung to one side, her hair streaming across her face until she couldn't see.
Mary paled and crossed herself. "Gor, what was that?"
"Where is Angus now?" Dougal's cold voice cut through the air like a knife.
Sophia eyed him uneasily. She didn't like the way his mouth had hardened, his eyes so dark they were almost black. "Angus is inside fetching a cold cloth for your eye. He's very sorry for what happened."
Dougal touched his rapidly swelling eye. "Bloody hell, what did he hit me with? An anvil?"