To Catch a Highlander (16 page)

"His fist."

"You should put that fool in a bear-baiting pit. You'd make a fortune…" Dougal struggled to rise.

Sophia helped him on one side, Mary slipping under his other arm.

The wind swirled a bit harder, sending dust into the air.

"Heavens!" Mary said, glancing over their heads at the sky. "That's the third thunderhead as has passed this way today."

Sophia turned. A huge bank of thunderclouds hung overhead, roiling as if alive.

"We should get inside," she said uneasily.

Dougal didn't even glance at the clouds as he held a hand over his bruised eye and cheek. "Bloody hell, I can barely see."

"Aye," Mary said. "
'
Tis swelling. I'll fetch some ice chips from the icehouse; that'll do better than a wet cloth." The wind gusted heavier still, and Mary coughed as a swirl of leaves and dust kicked up about them. "Miss, you and Lord MacLean had best get inside. The rain is going to be a heavy one; I can taste it." With that warning, she left.

Dougal removed his arm from Sophia and stood on his own, though he swayed.

"Come, MacLean," Sophia said, "you should be lying down."

Dougal cut her a hard look, one eye almost swollen shut while the other glared as fiercely as an eagle's.

"Dougal, I'm sorry. I'll speak to Angus and—"

"No, thank you. I will speak to him myself." He sent a furious glare at the house. The front door, which Mary had left open, was suddenly caught by the wind and slammed shut with astonishing force.

Sophia shivered at the sky's heavy blackness and the chilled wind. "We had better hurry or—"

"You go. I am going to the stables. It would be best if I did not see Angus for an hour or two," Dougal said darkly. He turned on his heel and stalked away.

Sophia was left standing alone. She ran up the stairs to the landing, to the sheltered portico. Almost instantly, the skies opened and it poured, sheeting so heavily that the barn was obscured from view.

Sophia barely noticed, for she was busy staring out at the storm. If MacLean grew this angry over a punch in the eye, how would he feel when she won back MacFarlane House?

"Good God, what happened to ye?"
Shelton
dropped the bucket of water he was carrying, unmindful that it spilled across the barn floor.

"I fell." Dougal picked up a brush and began to groom Poseidon.

Shelton
gave a silent whistle. "Fell into what? A hammer?"

"Something like that."

Outside, the rain blasted down, rattling noisily on the barn roof.

Shelton
frowned. "What's it doin' rainin'?" He clamped his mouth shut and regarded Dougal's black eye with new respect. "I see."

"You don't know the half of it." Dougal gently touched his eye and winced. "Bloody hell."

"I have something to help wit' that." The groom disappeared into the tack room, and when he returned, he held a piece of raw beef.

"Where did you get that?"

"From town. I had it packed in ice fer yer supper."

Dougal slapped the steak over his eye, grunting. "Thank you." Outside, a low rumble of thunder laced through the rain.

Shelton
took Dougal's arm and led him to a small barrel. "Sit here whilst I finish up the horses."

"I'm not an invalid."

"No, but how're ye goin' to charm Miss MacFarlane with one eye swollen closed? Ye need to let the swellin' fade."

Dougal sighed but stayed on the barrel, his head tipped back, the cold meat on his eye as
Shelton
unsaddled Sophia's horse, brushed it, stabled the two horses, then collected his dropped bucket and watered all of the animals. When he finished, he hung the bucket neatly on a peg and pulled up a barrel beside Dougal.

Dougal opened his good eye to find
Shelton
regarding him somberly. "What?"

The groom crossed his arms over his chest. "I was just wonderin'…" He jerked his thumb toward the roof.

Dougal closed his eyes again. "Yes, I caused the rain. I was furious about being attacked—from behind, too. I had just turned when her hulking ox of a servant hit me."

"Did the miss see it all?"

"Yes," Dougal snapped.

The wind lifted, and the great doors to the barn banged in protest, held in place by the ancient iron latch. The roof creaked and moaned as it strained mightily to let in the howling wind, but to no avail. Rain pounded on the ancient walls, leaks dripping onto the straw-covered floor.

Shelton
sighed and stood. "I'll stir up the fire in the stove in the tack room. If ye're committed to this folly, then ye'll be wanting somethin' to eat before ye return to the house."

Where the delectable Miss Sophia was probably in the kitchen at this very moment, ruining his dinner. Despite his throbbing eye, Dougal reluctantly grinned. "You're right, I shall want my dinner first. And a bath."

"Which would be cold if ye got it in the house, I suppose?"

"And filled with itching powder, as well, if they think of it."

"I'm glad we'll be leavin' soon,"
Shelton
said grumpily.

Dougal didn't answer.

The groom frowned. "We
are
leavin' soon, aren't we, me lord?"

"I don't know yet."

"But I thought ye just wished to find out what that shyster and his daughter were up to."

"I did. They wish to trick me into tossing the deed back onto the game table so that they might win it."

"Then we don't need to stay another night."

Need? That was an odd word. Dougal didn't
need
anything. But
want
? That was an entirely different matter.

Shelton
moaned. "We're not leavin', are we? I can see it in yer eyes. Ye're besotted."

Dougal snorted. "When have you ever seen me besotted?"

"Perhaps that's the wrong word,"
Shelton
said morosely. "Challenged is more like."

Dougal moved the beef to a more comfortable position over his eye. "What's wrong with a little challenge?"

"Nothing, so long as ye don't lose an eye in the bargain!"

Dougal chuckled. "I won't lose anything, I promise. Not an eye or the house." And definitely not his heart.

His smile faded. Where had that thought come from?

Shelton
sighed. "I hope we don't stay much longer. Ye'll wish a bath this evening, and while I don't mind servin' as yer cook, I'm not washin' yer back."

"I won't ask it of you, I promise." Dougal took the beef off his eye and gingerly touched the swollen area. It was better already. In another hour or two, he'd be able to see out of it as well as ever.

A flash of lightning filled the cracks of the barn with light, followed almost immediately by a roar of thunder. Dougal sighed. The blasted curse was hard at work. He rarely lost his temper, but the events of the past few days had strained him to his limits, the crowning glory of Angus's attack making him reach the breaking point.

Dougal glanced at the barn doors as they rattled against the wind, rain beating steadily against them. It was his duty as a MacLean not to let the curse get the better of him; it was his responsibility as a man not to be bettered by anything or anyone—including the family curse.

Yet not only was he in danger of losing his temper, but he was also finding his hostess far too engaging. Several times this afternoon, she'd let down her guard, and he'd glimpsed an entrancing woman. Not only was she charming, but there was a rare quality about her. He'd caught himself wishing their circumstances were different, that he could approach her as an equal, without the hidden innuendos and plots.

Dangerous thoughts, indeed.

For everyone's sake, it was time to end this. But first, he'd play one more game of cards with the delicious Miss Sophia. After all, what could a kiss or two hurt?

That decided, he rose from his barrel and went to prepare for his last evening with Sophia MacFarlane.

"He deserved it!" Angus said indignantly.

"Nonsense," Red replied calmly. "Sophia knows what she's about."

Mary snorted, plumping his pillow with far more force than necessary. "Angus, ye're a fool. Miss Sophie's always had more common sense than the average lass."

Angus scowled. "I'm not so certain the miss can muddle MacLean's thinkin' with her womanly wiles without muddlin' her own." Before Mary could respond, he added in an accusing tone, "Ye said yerself that the man was bonny enough to sup up with a spoon."

Red frowned. "I want my daughter to have her house back, but not if it places her in danger. Do you truly think this will do that?"

"Aye," Angus said.

"No," Mary said.

They glared at each other.

Mary said firmly, "Don't be thinkin' she'll go over the line. No one makes her do aught but what she wants." Mary moved to the windows, where she dropped the sashes and closed the curtains. "She's no fool."

Red knew far more about rakes than Mary or Sophia, and a man with MacLean's smooth charm and handsomeness might be more temptation than even his pragmatic, logical daughter could withstand.

Yet he also knew that Dougal was a MacLean and family pride would bind him to a certain standard. Sophie was as lovely as her mother, just as talented, and just as strong-willed. She was a heady bundle who offered a challenge to a man just by breathing. Such a tempting bit might cause a man to lose his head enough to cross the lines of propriety, even when the cost might be great.

Out in the hallway, Sophia's door opened, then closed.

"There's the miss. I'll see if she'd like a tray before dinner." Mary whisked out of the door.

Red started preparing a short speech for Sophie about the importance of keeping a safe physical distance between herself and her guest. He was just working out a brilliant but poignant closing statement when Sophie walked into the room.

Red's welcoming smile froze, fell, and shattered. "Bloody hell! Ye can't wear
that
!"

"You, not ye," she corrected as she looked down at her gown. Made of heavy pale blue silk trimmed with cream lace, it fell in elegant folds to her ankles. The short sleeves were banded with a stripe of shimmering cream silk that matched the ribbon tied beneath her breasts. "What's wrong with this gown? I think it's lovely."

It
was
lovely, except for one item: the décolletage was quite a bit lower than her usual gowns. Worse, someone had sewn a small bunch of blue and cream silk roses at the lowest point, as if her breasts didn't draw enough attention on their own. "You can't wear that," Red said firmly. "It's too low."

Sophia sat on the edge of his bed and said placidly, "Red, my gown is the height of fashion."

"For a married lady, perhaps, but not for my daughter."

"Red."

He heard the rebuke and winced.

She laughed. "Need I remind you that I might persuade MacLean to play for the house this very night?"

Red brightened. "Tonight? Do you think so?"

"I hope so. I plan on flirting shamelessly, so it's a good thing you'll be up here."

"Flirt?"

"Naturally. I have to distract him while he's playing, and what better way than with a casual flirtation?"

"Distract him some other way!"

"What other way?"

"I don't know. You could… you could drop something on him." Red squinted thoughtfully. "Yes! Scald him with tea."

"During a game? I want him to finish playing, not leap up and run from the room."

"Then think of something else."

"I have thought of something else; I've thought of it all, in fact." She patted his hand. "If nothing else, you can rest easy knowing that MacLean's conceit wouldn't allow him to touch a woman who didn't wish it."

She had a point. Pride was a powerful motivator. No one knew that better than Red. He studied his daughter, noting that though she might
look
frivolous in her silk gown and beads, she was deadly sober. His little Sophie was no one's fool.

The trouble with Sophie wasn't that she wasn't capable; it was that she was so capable it was easy to allow her to determine her own way, right or wrong.

She was so much like Beatrice that it sometimes pained him. Of course, Beatrice had been a horrid gambler, for she'd never been able to walk away from a challenge. Sophie was different… wasn't she? She
had
taken the loss of the house hard, far more than he'd expected. Was it possible that she had become fixated on keeping MacFarlane House, no matter the cost? All these years, they'd worked to fix the house, it had never dawned on him that perhaps the best thing for Sophie wasn't the house. In dedicating herself to this place, far out in the countryside, perhaps his daughter had cut herself off from having any other future.

The thought disturbed Red. Had he allowed Beatrice's dream of having a stable home to become Sophie's prison?