Rory loved people, truly he did, but sometimes it was nice to simply have some time to himself, especially when most of the people who surrounded him were, in actuality, strangers.
Where should he go? To his favorite spot? Or should he stay close by, just on the shore over there? There was a rocky outcropping, so perhaps— what was that?
He cocked his ear, listening intently. Yes, that was definitely a cry. He should ignore it. For if he followed the sound, then he would have to do something about it, and that would interfere with his fishing time. Or reclining time, if he were being honest about his intentions.
He shut his eyes once more, as though that would block out the sound as well. But there! The noise came again, louder, more distinct this time, as though the owner of the voice was coming closer.
Rory opened his eyes now, shocked to find a horse and rider careening down the hill straight toward him, the horse clearly out of control. He swallowed hard when he saw the long, dark hair flying out behind her. Damnit, it was Peggy. Forgetting all of his previous reservations, he kicked his own horse into a gallop in order to intercept her. For if Peggy McDougall’s horse threw her into the loch — or worse — while he looked on, her brothers would roast him alive.
“Hold on, Peg!” he called out, and as he neared, he saw the desperate look on her face, which he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. For Peggy McDougall was one of the most self-assured people he had ever met. Though, if he recalled correctly, her skill on horseback left much to be desired.
Rory turned Fortune around so that he was running parallel to her mount, giving her horse time to catch up with him. Soon they were running side by side, and when he felt her horse had begun to control his own speed, he reached out a hand and grabbed the reins. Giving them a slight tug, he pulled the horse with him, away from the loch and out toward the open field. He began to slightly slow Fortune, to the point that Peggy’s mount eventually followed suit, and Rory breathed a sigh of relief. Once he got them to halt, he dismounted next to her, holding out a hand to help her down. She waved him away, but as she swung a leg over the saddle, her skirts caught on the pommel and she came tumbling over the horse and into his waiting arms with such force that she knocked him right to the ground.
“Ooomph,” he winced, and she let out a loud sigh that he was clearly meant to hear.
“I’m not that heavy,” she said, disgruntled.
“It’s not that, lass,” he said, as she lay sprawled atop of him, and when she attempted to sit up, her body wiggling over his began to make him very aware of her — which, despite how good it felt, was not a welcome feeling. Not at all. For Peggy McDougall was like a sister to him.
“Then what is it?” she asked, and suddenly her face was overtop his, her deep blue eyes, the color of the loch, latched on his, her face framed by the dark chestnut of her long hair.
“Nothing,” he ground out, waving her back. “I was just caught off guard, that is all. Now tell me, lass, what were ye doing, sprinting down that hill as fast as your horse could go?”
“I was simply out for a ride,” she said with a shrug, apparently far less concerned than he was. “I thought I had him under control, but I was potentially wrong about that.”
“This horse is too much for you,” he said, as she finally scrambled off him and he sat up, looking her horse over carefully. He was a magnificent animal, a big, black, muscled horse, but not one he would have given to Peggy.
“He is not,” she said, her arms crossed over her chest. “We get along just fine. He’s a very good horse. I just have to make him listen to me, that’s all. I’m working on it. Kyla is an excellent teacher.”
“I’m sure she is,” he said with a nod, and before even thinking of what he was saying, he added, “but I’m better.”
“You are not,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I have never met anyone who has a better hand with a horse than Kyla.”
“We learned from the same man,” he said with a shrug, referring to their former stable hand. He really didn’t want to teach Peggy anything, but something inside of him desperately wanted to prove that he could best his sister at something. “Give me a try.”
“No, thank you,” she said primly, walking over to her horse, beginning to mount.
“Where do you think you are going?”
“Home.”
“Absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head. “Not alone on this animal, you aren’t. I’ll ride with you.”
“No, thank you.”
“I insist.”
“I said no!” Her eyes widened at the intensity of her own words, and she bit her lip immediately as if trying to take them back.
“Fine.” He sighed. “Kyla is at Darfield, speaking with some of the English and the Lowlander tourists. Come back with me and you can then return to Galbury with her. I’m sure she willna be staying long, as she never likes to leave her boys for too many hours.”
“That is true.” Peggy finally gave in somewhat reluctantly. “Fine. Lead the way, oh noble knight.”
He gave her an exaggerated bow before cupping his hands together to help her mount, but she ignored them and put her foot into the stirrup instead. God, the woman was a handful. Once seated, however, she looked down and smiled at him — a smile which he returned. She was striking, and were she not such friends with him, he would likely enjoy a bit of a flirtation with her. But there was no other woman in the world who would be worse for him to dally with. No, this was one he had to remain far, far away from. Or he would find himself in more trouble than he currently needed.
* * *
Of all the people to help her out of her predicament – her humiliating predicament – did it have to be Rory MacTavish? Now he would lord it over her for years to come, of how he had rescued her when she had lost control of her bloody horse for no reason at all. The horse hadn’t been spooked, they were on well-known lands, and she should have been in full control.
It had been rather fortunate he was there, she had to admit, or she might at this very moment be fully immersed in the chilly waters of the loch. But to be indebted to him grated on her. She could tell he was laughing at her behind his stoic expression, which certainly didn’t help matters.
Ah, well.
“So, is anything new?”
“New?” she stupidly repeated, and Rory smiled at her, sending her heart into an irregular pattern. She cursed, willing it to slow down. It was just Rory, a man she had known her entire life. She needed to go back to her thoughts of him as she had felt when she was a small child. He was the annoying brother of a friend, and nothing more.
“Aye. Not much of a strange question is it? What have ye been keeping busy with? I haven’t seen you around lately. Ye used to visit more often.”
“Aye, well, Kyla lives at Galbury now, so I no longer have any need to visit.”
She shrugged, not mentioning that she had no wish to see him anymore, now that she had determined she would have nothing further to do with him. But… did his eyes flicker slightly with disappointment or was she simply imagining things? She was being fanciful. That must be it.
“Everything else is the same as it’s always been. I’m at home, spending my time in the village or around the keep, waiting for a man to come sweep me off my feet, as that is what a woman’s life is meant for, is it not?”
His eyes widened and her cheeks warmed. He had asked her a simple question, and she had responded like a crazed woman.
“Forget it,” she mumbled quickly, turning her face away from him to look out at the rolling hills to her left. Thank heavens Darroch was behaving now, at the very least, saving her any further embarrassment due to her lack of skill upon the horse. “Pretend I never said a word of that. Life is as it always is, Rory. And you?”
He sent a rueful grin her way, his perfect, even teeth flashing. Why did he have to be so damn good looking? It wasn’t fair. “Life is as it always is for me, Peg,” he repeated her words back to her, though despite his smile, she thought
she could see something lurking beyond it — Regret? Longing? She shook her head, cursing herself.
You’re fantasizing, Peggy. Seeing what you want to see. Rory is living the life he always wanted, and that life certainly does not include you. Except for in this moment, when he is forced to escort you back to your sister-in-law like a child.
She sighed dramatically.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Only that I tremendously wish ye were not wasting your day taking care of me. I am perfectly fine on my own, you know. That was just a little mishap.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You could have killed yourself.”
“But I didn’t.” She shrugged. “I never do. I would have figured it out eventually.”
“Oh, Peg,” he said with a wink. “What am I going to do with you?”
And therein lay the problem. For as much as she tried to keep herself from him, every time she saw Rory MacTavish, she couldn’t stop her imagination from blooming with the thought of what it could be like to be with Rory, to have him look at her the way he did all of the beautiful, cultured women from the cities. But that was certainly not her, not Peggy McDougall.
No, she was too tall, had too much muscle for a woman, and was certainly far too unruly. For as much as Rory had the very same land and culture running through his veins, he wasn’t looking for a woman like her. In fact, she was sure he didn’t even see her as a woman, but as a girl.
Peggy, for once in her life, stayed silent as they neared Darfield, where the stables were full of horses, the chimney puffing smoke into the air. What a difference in the keep from just a few years ago, when it was only Rory, Kyla, and their father. Despite everything people said about Rory, that he was lazy, incompetent, and irresponsible, the tourism in the area had all been his doing. She knew her brothers didn’t like having the English and the Lowlanders up here on their lands, but even they couldn’t deny that it was what allowed them and their clans to continue to prosper.
“Here we are,” said Rory, dismounting and holding out a hand to her, but she ignored it once more and dismounted on her own — at least there was something she was competent in doing, even if it was simply getting off the horse. Well, this time, at least. After the previous fiasco that had been her dismount, she needed to prove she was partially proficient.
Rory tied Darroch to a fence post near the house before handing his own mount over to one of the MacTavish clan. The tourism meant that they were able to provide employment for many of the crofters who were struggling. It had been a boon to all of them.
Peggy led the way into the keep. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as Galbury, her own home, but it was comfortable now, full of smells of smoke and rising bread from the kitchens, which were now continually at work feeding the tourists. It must be nearing the dinner hour, for the tables were full of about a dozen people, with ale and wine laid out in front of them. Kyla waved to her from across the room, and Peggy took a step toward her, but not before another blonde woman stood and greeted them — or, to be more accurate, greeted Rory, completely ignoring Peggy.
“Mr. MacTavish! Where did you get off to, you naughty boy? We’ve been missing your delightful sense of humor. You truly make this place comfortable, you do know that?”
Rory simply grinned at the woman, who had begun to run her fingers up and down his well-muscled arm as she spoke. Peggy knew her eyes must be as wide as saucers as she stared at the woman who was blatantly throwing herself at Rory.
“Mrs. Jones, might I introduce you to Peggy McDougall? You’ve met Roderick? This is his sister.”
Peggy managed what she hoped was a smile, though she was sure it likely came out more like a grimace. Mrs. Jones? Most women who accompanied these hunting parties now came with their husbands. But surely this woman couldn’t be flirting with Rory in front of all those seated if her husband was among them, now could she? Peggy searched Kyla out across the room, and when she caught her eye, Kyla shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Lovely to meet you, my dear,” Mrs. Jones said, her eyes narrowing as the smile she bestowed upon Peggy was nothing like that with which she had gifted Rory. “You must be one of the help as well then?”
Peggy bristled. Who did this woman think she was, speaking to her like that? None of them were help. She straightened to her full height, which was about a head taller than the woman, and lifted her finger as she opened her mouth to tell her exactly what she thought of her words.
Just then, however, Kyla came up behind her, placing a gentle arm on Peggy’s, pushing it down as she pulled her back with the other hand.
“Paying guests,” she murmured in Peggy’s ear and drew her away. Unable to say anything else, Peggy turned on her heel, following Kyla as she shook with anger.
Rory wondered why she never visited anymore?
Well, now he knew.
Chapter 3
What the hell was wrong with Peg? Rory watched her retreating figure in bewilderment as his sister led her away. She kept a hand on Peggy’s back as she steered her to a table far away from both him and Mrs. Jones. When Peggy finally sent a look back over her shoulder, it was fierce, and he was only grateful that it was directed at Mrs. Jones and not at him. Damn, the girl had fire, that was certain.
Mrs. Jones tugged at his arm, bringing his attention back to her. What had she been saying? Oh, yes, his humor. She had missed him.
“Well, I am glad to hear that my hosting skills are appreciated, Mrs. Jones,” he said amiably, looking around the crowded hall full of tables and chairs for Mr. Jones. “I hope your husband also fared well today on his hunt.”
“Oh, he is upstairs, resting,” she practically purred. Ah, so that was why she was over here with him.
“Well, I’m sure he had a fine day. He is very skilled.”
“Not like you.”
Rory chuckled. She didn’t let up, this one.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Jones, I have a few matters to attend to.”
She dipped her lip down into what he was sure was a perfectly practiced pout, but he extricated his arm from her surprisingly strong grip and traversed his way around others in the room, moving toward Kyla and Peggy. He didn’t know why he cared, but Peggy’s anger bothered him. He supposed it was because she was typically such a bright light, the way she carried her happiness and shared it with everyone around her.
“Peg!” he said, sitting down with them at one of the oak tables that had been constructed for the influx of tourists they had begun to receive this past year. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Seriously, Rory?” she looked at him incredulously. “Did you not hear that woman?”
Rory shrugged. “She’s no worse than many of the tourists who come our way,” he said. “They think everyone is here to serve them. I dinna know why she stuck in your craw so. Just a few words to ignore, nothing more.”
“Not only that, she was throwing herself at you in front of all here, despite the fact she is a married woman!”
He never knew Peggy to be so particularly concerned about such morals, but he shrugged. “Just some harmless flirting. Nothing to be worried about, Peg. I do not mess with women who are committed to another.”
Kyla snorted, and he shot his sister a look of consternation.
“I don’t. Too much trouble.”
“You’re trouble everywhere you go, Rory,” Kyla said, though her gaze was affectionate.
“Now, Kyla, that’s not necessarily true.”
“No?” she raised her eyebrows. “What about the time you cheated Lyle at cards? Or were sent to prison in Glasgow when you picked the wrong woman and the owner of the gambling ‘establishment’ came after you? When Father had to come bail you out and the whole MacTavish clan rose up against you?”
Rory bit his lip, unable to make eye contact any longer with either of the women. For they were right. He had gotten himself into a heap of trouble in the past, and it had, at one point, nearly cost his sister her life. He wasn’t proud of wh
at he had done, no. But he couldn’t change the past. He let out a slow breath through his teeth.
“You’re right, Kyla,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry. I’m not sure what else I can do now to make it better. I’m doing all I can, helping here, hosting the tourists, I hardly ever go down to the city anymore—”
Kyle reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. “You’re right, Rory,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry. I shouldna have brought it up. But I think flirting with a married woman could only lead to trouble.”
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in front of him in surrender to the two women who stared him down. “No more flirting. With married women, at least,” he added with a wink, and Kyla rolled her eyes, while Peggy simply stared at him, her face expressionless.
“What is it now, Peg? Still too much trouble for you?”
She shook her head, saying nothing, but purposefully picked up the drink that someone had placed in front of her, swallowing a good few sips before placing it back down again.
“Speaking of the cities…” he continued, despite the fact that now didn’t seem the best time to tell his sister of his plan. Still, she would find out soon enough. “I am going to be heading down to Glasgow next week. But,” he added as he saw her look of consternation. “’Tis only for a business purpose. Roderick and I are trying to start something down there, set up a shop where people can come in and learn more about us, about the Highlands. We’ll have images of our land, brochures explaining the activities and the lodgings, and the pricing of a hunting trip here, all of that. What do you think?”
Kyla tilted her head to the side and paused for a moment as she considered his words. “Actually, Rory, I think it’s a fine idea. But why am I just hearing of it now?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t think I need your permission for everything I do, Kyla.”
“You’re right,” she said with a nod of her blonde head. “But we are a team. We should discuss these things.”
Peggy’s Love: The Victorian Highlanders Book 5 Page 2