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Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid

Page 29

by Suzanne Enoch


  “Interesting choice of words, Samston.” Ranulf turned his head. “Peter!” he yelled.

  A widening circle had formed around them. Everyone clearly wanted to see and hear what was afoot, but likewise none of them wanted to be close enough to be caught up in whatever this was. Lachlan sent an encouraging smile to Rowena, and when she smiled back at him he felt warm to his cockles.

  This had to be much harder on her than on him. All he had to attempt to manage was a growing, seething anger. She was facing the man who’d encouraged her kidnapping. He tightened his grip. Lord Samston wasn’t going anywhere.

  Peter Gilling appeared from the direction of the stable. Behind him, shackled and tethered like dogs, stumbled Charles Calder, Arnold Haws, and Dermid Gerdens. A half-dozen MacLawry men surrounded them, all of them armed to the teeth.

  “Thank ye, Peter,” Ranulf said coolly. “Dermid Gerdens. Step up here and have a word with the Campbell.”

  The big man’s face, swollen from being battered over the past days, paled. He limped forward, two grooms holding his tethers. “Yer Grace, I—”

  “Tell me aboot the conversation ye had with this Sassenach, Dermid,” the Campbell interrupted. “I’ll nae hear anything else from ye.”

  “Aye, Yer Grace. He said ye’d been wrong to banish my brother, and that I needed enough power and wealth to make ye bring him back. He said if I took Winnie MacLawry, Glengask would have to pay me her dowry and give me land, like when the Highlanders used to take the women they wanted.”

  The duke nodded. “How did Calder and Haws end up involved with this? They werenae invited to this gathering.”

  “Grandfather,” Calder began, trying to pull forward. “I can explain.”

  “Aye, I imagine ye could, Charles. That’s why I want to hear it from Dermid. He’s no use fer fancy words and complicated lies.”

  “We…” Dermid swallowed. “Charles said he wasnae finished with Arran MacLawry, so he and Arnold were waiting close by. I told them what Lord Samston told me, and we decided to take her.”

  All three of these men were grandsons of the Campbell. Ranulf was taking a risk by allowing the Duke of Alkirk to conduct the questioning, and by having him present to hear any decision about these men. The peace was only a few weeks old. By historical standards, it was likely the longest between the Campbells and the MacLawrys in three hundred years.

  And then Ranulf surprised Lachlan again. “Yer Grace,” the marquis said, “they’re yer men. What do ye say?”

  For a long moment the duke looked at his grandsons. Cold gray eyes, a stiff spine, and close-cropped gray hair—he looked like precisely who he was, the longtime leader of a very powerful clan. Finally he looked back at Glengask. “Ye didnae have to give them over to me, MacLawry. It means someaught to me that ye did. Dermid wants his brother. I reckon all three of them can join Berling in Canada. I’ll nae have them walking on the same land that I am. If that’s agreeable to ye, as the wronged party.”

  Today was full of miracles. Lachlan hoped there was space for one more.

  Ranulf nodded. “Aye. It’s more than agreeable to me. Thank ye, Campbell.”

  That left Samston. Ranulf started forward, but Rowena put out a hand and stopped him. Instead, she walked up to the earl, who now stood gray-faced. If Lachlan and Arran hadn’t been holding him, he would likely have collapsed. That might have been fun, but it would also leave him free to attempt something. And that wouldn’t happen.

  She stopped two feet in front of Samston. “I liked ye,” she said simply. Then she slapped him across the face. Hard. “Now ye can leave the Highlands. If I ever set eyes on ye, ye’re done. If I ever hear of ye coming north of Hadrian’s Wall for any reason, ye’re done. Ye have five minutes to gather yer things. Whatever ye leave behind, I’m throwing into the fire.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Did ye have something ye wanted to add, bràthair?”

  “Nae. That should do it.”

  Lachlan shoved the earl to the ground. And then they all walked away from him.

  Within an hour Ranulf managed to take Rowena around to everyone he especially wanted her to thank, and they were able to return to the house. “Charlotte,” the marquis said, leading the way into the morning room, “I mean to marry ye tomorrow. Do ye have any objection to that?”

  “I do not,” she returned, smiling. “We’re all where we’re supposed to be. I require nothing more than that.”

  “And I require nothing but ye,” he returned, then looked at the rest of them. “Because all my manly nerves are frayed, I’d appreciate if the rest of ye stayed in the hoose fer the rest of the day. Ye as well, Lach; I sent Owen fer yer formal attire. It’s in the bedchamber across from Bear’s.”

  That worked well, as Lachlan had no intention of leaving without having a moment—or several of them—with Rowena. “As ye wish.”

  “Good. I’ve a few things to see to, but I’ll be aboot.” He turned on his heel.

  “Where’s Rob Cranach?” Lachlan said, before Ranulf could exit the room.

  Rowena sent him a sharp glance. Yes, she wanted to wait until after the wedding, but Ranulf had been making decisions for them with such swiftness that he was fairly certain they couldn’t afford to wait that long. She was his. And the sooner everyone realized that, the less chance of more difficulties later.

  Ranulf turned around. “Cranach’s most of the way home by now, I reckon.”

  “He is?” Rowena blurted. “Why?”

  “Do ye want him, lass? I had the impression ye didnae.”

  “No, I don’t want him. But why is he on his way home?”

  Her brother stepped deeper into the morning room again and shut the door behind him. “Because I didnae like the way he ate,” he said succinctly.

  Now Bear was frowning. “What?”

  “When Rowena went missing, Cranach and his cousin sat doon to have dinner. As I’d just agreed to give him something most precious to me, this caused me some concern as to how he viewed her.” He gazed steadily at Lachlan. “Ye pointed it oot to me, as I recall.”

  “Aye. I did.”

  “Ye also mentioned someaught aboot Rowena being the heart of this clan, and what would happen to the lot of us if she wasnae a MacLawry.”

  An odd, hopeful thud began beating somewhere in the region of Lachlan’s heart. Ranulf was a damned stubborn man, accustomed, and with good reason, to his word being law. Unless he was completely misreading the signs, though, he liked what Ranulf was saying.

  “I did mention that,” he returned. “And I stand by it.”

  “And yet ye said ye wouldnae have Rowena.”

  Hope crashed again. “I made a mistake. What I say now is that I’ll nae have anyone but Rowena.”

  “Hm.” The marquis turned his attention to his sister, standing a few feet away. “Ye’ve made it fairly clear, lass, that ye have some strong opinions aboot who ye’ll wed. Where does Lachlan fall in that list?”

  “There is no list,” she returned. “I’ll have Lachlan, or I’ll nae have anyone.”

  “If ye two are so set on each other, why have ye nae proposed, Lach?”

  Lachlan took a deep breath. “I have proposed.”

  “Did ye, now? When ye thought she was to marry another man?”

  He looked at Rowena, at her profile as she tried to figure out her brother. “Ye may have thought she was marrying another man, Glengask, but I didnae. I wouldnae allow it. She’s marrying me, whether ye like it or nae.”

  Ranulf folded his arms across his chest. “What did ye say when he proposed to ye, piuthar?”

  “I said aye. I don’t want to disappoint ye, Ranulf. Ye’re my brother, and I love ye. I’d do anything for ye. Anything but marry a man I dunnae love when the man I adore is standing beside me.”

  Slowly Ranulf blew out his breath, his shoulders lowering as he dropped his hands again. “Fer God’s sake, the two of ye have spun us around. I ken that some of that was my fault. I made assumptions, and didnae give ye the chance to figu
re things oot fer yerselves.”

  “Ran, ye did what ye thought was best. Ye always do,” Rowena said, walking up to put a hand on one of his arms.

  He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “Ye have my blessing, Rowena. Go kiss the lad before he combusts.”

  With a happy shout Lachlan strode forward and grabbed her, spinning her around to plant a sound kiss on her mouth. Eighteen years of being on different paths, and they’d finally reached the same destination at the same time. Together. She flung her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, laughing.

  “It’s aboot damned time!” Bear roared, clapping him so hard on the back that he nearly fell over on Rowena.

  Lachlan lifted his head. “What changed yer mind, Ran?” he asked, though he likely should have kept his mouth closed. It hadn’t only been him seeing that Cranach wasn’t the one for her, though. Something had finally turned Ranulf back toward him.

  “Ye got stabbed, through and through,” Ranulf answered, walking forward to offer his hand. “Ye wouldnae stay behind, even when ye should have. Ye pushed at me and put me in my place, and then ye rode fer nearly twenty-four hours and ye found her. Ye’ll look after her. Ye cherish her. That’s what she deserves.”

  “I do cherish her,” he breathed, and kissed her again, more softly this time, ignoring the congratulations being delivered around them. “I cherish ye.”

  With a sigh she leaned her lithe body along his. “Ye’d better, Lachlan,” she murmured back, a smile in her voice. “I’m a fierce Highlands lass, and I’ll nae accept anything less.”

  He chuckled. “I love ye, Rowena. I’ll nae give ye anything less than that.”

  Coming soon…

  Look for the next novel in the

  Scandalous Highlanders series

  Some Like It Scot

  Available in October 2015

  from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  Also by

  SUZANNE ENOCH

  A Beginner’s Guide to Rakes

  Taming an Impossible Rogue

  Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke

  The Handbook for Handling His Lordship

  The Devil Wears Kilts

  Rogue with a Brogue

  PRAISE for SUZANNE ENOCH

  and her bestselling romances

  “A joyride of a novel … a sensual romantic caper sure to win applause.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Reading a book by Suzanne Enoch is like stepping into a time machine. She so adeptly transports readers.”

  —New York Journal of Books

  “A highly gifted author.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Suzanne Enoch has a gift for piquing a reader’s interest.”

  —Sun Journal

  “Dazzling, delicious, and delightful.”

  —Karen Hawkins

  “Always an eagerly anticipated pleasure.”

  —Christina Dodd

  “Indulge and be delighted!”

  —Stephanie Laurens

  “One of my very favorite authors.”

  —Julia Quinn

  “With her fascinating characters, lyrical prose, and whip-smart dialogue, Enoch has created a novel to be cherished.”

  —Lisa Kleypas

  About the Author

  A native and current resident of Southern California, Suzanne Enoch loves movies almost as much as she loves books, with a special place in her heart for anything Star Wars. She has written more than thirty Regency novels and historical romances, which are regularly to be found on the New York Times bestseller list. When she is not busily working on her next book, Suzanne likes to contemplate interesting phenomena, like how the 3 guppies in her aquarium became 161 guppies in 5 months.

  Visit www.suzanneenoch.com

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  MAD, BAD, AND DANGEROUS IN PLAID

  Copyright © 2015 by Suzanne Enoch.

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

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  eISBN: 9781466838437

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / March 2015

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

 

 

 


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