by Sabrina York
Remorse flickered over his features and he leaped to his feet and crossed to her. And though everyone was watching, he knelt before her, took her hands, and kissed her. “I’m saying nothing of the sort. I verra much want to marry you,” he murmured. “But I would like to woo you first.”
Annoyance riffled. She was far too impatient for wooing. She wanted him now. “How long will this bluidy wooing take?”
“Not long.” He kissed her again and again until Isobel blew out a sigh that rounded the room.
In tandem, they turned to her and she shook her head, disgust written on her delicate features. “I told you to kidnap her,” she said. “It’s much quicker.”
Susana held back a snort. No doubt it would be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After tea was over, Caithness begged to be excused to rest up after his journey and, for some reason, Lana offered to show him to his rooms. He agreed with alacrity. Isobel hopped off Andrew’s lap and went with them, much to the duke’s consternation. She threaded her fingers through his and gazed up at him with glowing admiration, most likely because he’d offered to give her a sword.
Andrew and Hamish left as well, to debrief the men and see to their mounts, though Susana could tell Andrew was reluctant to leave her. With a kiss to her forehead, he murmured, “I’ll be back soon.” His eyes glimmered as he added. “You and I need to have a conversation.”
Aye. They did, but she much appreciated this time with Hannah and Papa. And Dunnet, of course. They all remained in the parlor, chattering and catching up, and Susana found she really enjoyed Dunnet’s company. Though he wasn’t a man of many words, when he spoke it was with a clever observation and sharp wit. He had her holding her sides more than once, especially when he told the tale of when his hound Brùid met Lana’s cat.
Tamhas interrupted their guffaws with a scratch at the door. “My laird,” he said to Papa. “You have a visitor.”
Papa blew out a laugh. “This is the day for it,” he said. “Who is it, my boy?”
Tamhas’s throat worked. “The Marquess of Stafford.”
Dunnet stiffened. His features became rather fierce and his hand clenched into a fist. No doubt he was remembering the fact that Stafford had once had designs on his wife. Beyond that, all here suspected Stafford of much greater perfidy. “I’m going to get Lachlan,” he said. “Hannah, darling, come with me.”
Hannah glanced at Susana, clearly torn between the desire to avoid this interview with a man she found repulsive and her disinclination to leave Susana and Papa alone with a snake.
“Do go, darling,” Susana said, patting her hand. “We shall be fine.”
“All right,” she said. “But if he steps one toe out of line…” She eyed the small table where Hamish’s knife still lay.
Susana’s lips curled into a smile. “Aye,” she said. When Dunnet and Hannah left, Susana turned to Papa. “What the bluidy hell does he want?” she muttered.
“Only one way to find out, my girl.” He waved to Tamhas. “Show him in.”
Her nerves riffled as Stafford strode into the room. He was a tall man and, but for his piggy eyes, could be considered good looking. But his features were set in an arrogant expression and his lips curled in a constant sneer she couldn’t like. Add to that the disdain with which he’d treated Papa over the years and the way his every word and deed seemed to underscore his belief that he was better than everyone else, and he became very unattractive indeed. His son, the one he’d wanted to marry to Hannah, was no better.
He had dressed in formal attire for such a casual, unannounced visit, turned out in the uniform of a British lord rather than in a Highland laird. Which was telling.
“Ah, Magnus!” he gusted, as though they were old friends; they were not. “So good to see you.”
Papa rose to his feet and affected a bow, but it was short and curt. “Stafford. Welcome. Tamhas. Whisky, please.”
“Ah. And your daughter.” His gaze flicked over Susana in a far-too-assessing manner and her blood went cold. The man was a reptile.
He took her hand and kissed it. She nearly retched.
“To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” she asked. Surely that wasn’t contempt dripping from her words.
Stafford stilled over her hand; his features arranged themselves into something of a smirk. “Just a neighborly visit.”
“Dounreay is hardly in your neighborhood,” Papa observed.
Stafford frowned but didn’t reply. He took the seat next to Papa and then accepted a whisky from the tray Tamhas proffered.
“Nae. But I heard of your recent troubles and I wanted to come by and see if I could be of assistance.” His tone was incredibly sincere. If she didn’t know better, she might have believed him.
Papa smiled. It was not a genuine smile in the slightest. “I doona know what you mean. Everything is fine here.”
“Come now, Magnus. There have been countless attacks on your lands. Why, I even heard your granddaughter was stolen from her bed.” He tsked.
Susana’s eyes narrowed. There was no way Stafford could know such things unless he’d been working with Scrabster. Unless the two of them had planned all this together.
She opened her mouth to vent her wrath, but Papa shot her a warning glance. “Aye. That was worrisome indeed.”
Stafford looked around the room. “I do hope she’s all right?” His simper was galling.
“She’s fine,” Susana snapped. No thanks to him.
His eyes widened. “Really? I’d heard she’d been kidnapped. I hadna heard she’d been returned.”
Papa’s fingers played on the fabric of his chair. “You do seem to hear many things.”
“Of course.” Stafford put out his chest. “I make it a point to know what is happening within my aegis.”
Annoyance riffled. This was not his aegis.
His attention flicked to Susana. “I understand your sister has married Dunnet.”
“Aye,” she said through her teeth.
Stafford sighed and sipped his drink. “A pity that.”
He let this tidbit linger until Papa responded. It took a while for Papa to respond. “A pity?”
“Aye. I’ve heard tell Dunnet willna be a baron much longer.”
Papa’s jaw bunched. “Have you?”
“Aye.”
“And where did you hear that?”
Stafford smiled slickly. “I have my sources.”
“Is that a threat against my daughter’s husband?” Papa asked with matching slickness.
“Och, never say it.” Stafford’s expression belied his words. But then, it often did. “I’ve simply heard that the duke isna pleased with him and will soon have him removed from his offices.”
Susana’s blood began to boil. This was nearly identical to the load of tripe Scrabster had spewed. Oh, where was Caithness? He needed to hear this rot. She looked over her shoulder and stilled. For Caithness stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. From his position, Stafford couldn’t see him.
Stafford tsked again. “Where will you be then? Who will protect Dounreay when Dunnet no longer can?”
Papa pressed his lips together and leaned forward, rolling his tumbler between his palms. “I see what you mean. That is concerning.”
Stafford sat back with a gusted sigh. “Aye, it is.”
Closing one eye, Papa studied the marquess. “So tell me, Stafford. What would you propose? To keep us safe?”
“Isn’t it obvious? If we were family, if I had some claim on this land, of course I would dedicate my forces to keeping you all safe. The solution is as simple as an alliance between your daughter and my son.
“An alliance?” Heat prickled Susana’s neck. Acid churned in her belly.
Stafford offered her an avuncular smile. “A marriage.”
“But Hannah is already married,” Papa said.
“Aye.” His lip curled. Probably at the thought of his failure to win her for his son. “But you have two other dau
ghters, both unwed. Give one to Scrabster in marriage, and the other to me. Between the two of us, we will assure the safety of your lands and peoples from the east and the west.”
“Give my daughter to Scrabster?” Papa barked a laugh and Susana smiled as well. Stafford was clearly behind on recent events.
The marquess frowned. “Why do you scoff? Scrabster is a baron. Hardly a title to turn up your nose at. And if we’re being honest here…” Were they? Were they being honest? “Your daughters have a reputation of being…”
“Being what?” Susana couldn’t hold her tongue. Not if her life depended on it.
Stafford pressed his lips together. “Being … difficult.”
The man had no idea. Susana cast about for her bow before she remembered she’d left it in the foyer. Blast.
“Title or not,” Papa said, “Scrabster is the man who kidnapped Isobel. And…” He flicked a look at Susana. “I doona think he’s in any condition to take a wife.”
The marquess stilled. He glanced at Susana as well. She offered him a wide grin. One with teeth. “What can I say?” she gritted. “He was being … difficult.”
“I … ah…” Stafford paled slightly and ripped his gaze back to Papa. “It hardly signifies. I will still honor my promise to protect you from the west. If, of course, your daughter marries my son.”
“Which daughter?”
“It doesna matter.” He smiled, and behind his eyes Susana saw a flicker of avarice.
The whole plot turned her stomach. The land was Hannah’s. And Dunnet’s. The only way Stafford would have any claim on it was if something should happen to them. And Papa. And possibly herself or Lana.
How far would he go to claim this strip of land?
But she didn’t interrupt, because clearly Papa was fishing for information. If this conversation went the way she thought it might go—and considering the fact that Caithness was listening to every word—a splendid confrontation was in the offing. Anticipation bubbled.
“And if I refuse to give you my daughter? Any daughter since it appears you doona have a preference?”
Stafford shrugged. “There’s no telling what could happen to Dounreay. A land with no overlord—”
“We have an overlord. Caithness—”
“Caithness doesna care what happens to you,” Stafford said. “He’s left you unprotected for decades.”
“But he is our overlord.” Papa smiled. “Technically, all the land in Caithness County is his. We are his stewards.”
“Ah, but you see … It doesna have to be that way.” Stafford shifted forward to the edge of his chair and focused on Papa as though there were no one else in the room. As though the woman sitting across from him didn’t signify in the slightest. Then again, to a man like him, women did not. They were merely chattel, chess pieces to be moved about on a whim. Her stomach roiled. She deplored men like this.
“What do you mean?” Papa leaned forward as well.
“I have received official word from the Prince Regent himself that he is verra pleased with my Improvements to the land.”
“I see.” It was impressive the way Papa hid his sneer. Susana knew full well how he felt about the Improvements that had ravaged Stafford’s land. Refugees from his crofts had flooded into Dounreay as he cleared the farmers from his holdings.
“There is word he may be considering making me a duke myself.” This Stafford said with a jut of his chest. “No doubt he could be convinced to give me these lands once Caithness is … gone.”
“Gone?”
Stafford snorted. “Trust me. He willna be around for long.”
Susana stiffened. Was that what she thought it was? A threat against the duke’s life?
The gall of the man, to admit it so brashly. It was a challenge to hold her tongue, but she didn’t want to interrupt these revelations. They were far too interesting.
“What do you mean?” Papa asked, thumbing his beard.
“Doona fash yerself, Magnus.” Stafford patted his hand and Papa nearly cringed. “You willna be suspected. No one will.”
“Suspected? Of what?”
Stafford’s only response was an oily smile.
“I thought the duke was a friend of the prince.”
“Bah.” Stafford waved away this triviality. “Prinny is easy to manipulate. Aside from that, everyone knows none of the Caithness dukes reach their thirtieth birthday. It will be no surprise when Lachlan Sinclair expires before his time.”
Papa had had enough. “I canna be a party to murder.”
“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. It isna murder … it’s a curse.” Stafford grinned as though mightily pleased with himself. “And what do you stand to lose?”
“A daughter?”
Stafford ignored him. “You will gain my support as your patron … and lose a laird who doesna care about you or your lands.”
“I do care, actually,” A deep, ducal voice rumbled from the door.
Stafford whipped around. His jaw went slack. He bounded to his feet. “Lachlan … I … We … We were just talking about you.”
“Yes,” the duke said in a crisp tone. “I heard.”
Stafford’s lips wobbled. He sent a reproachful frown at Papa, who shrugged and rubbed his lips to hide his grin, but it was visible in his eyes.
“This is not what it seems,” Stafford protested.
“Isn’t it? Because it sounded an awful lot like a plot to do me in.”
“Nonsense!” The beads of sweat on Stafford’s brow belied his calm tone.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Caithness said coldly. “And believe you me, Prinny will hear of this. This and the treason you were planning with Scrabster.” His eyes glittered as he stared down the marquess. He was bluffing, but Stafford didn’t know that. “Aye,” he said when Stafford broke first, glancing around the room with a panicked gaze, searching for escape, perhaps. “We found some very interesting letters in Scrabster’s strongbox. Before we blew up his castle, of course.”
“You … you … blew up his castle?”
“Your informants dinna tell you that?” Susana couldn’t keep from saying.
Caithness tipped his head to the side and shrugged. “Someone blew up his castle. I couldn’t say who. I cannot help wondering whose castle might be next.” He smiled slowly. “If indeed you have one after the prince hears of what the two of you had planned.”
“Lies. It’s all lies. Scrabster was a liar!” Stafford bellowed.
“And what I just heard? Your threats on my life? Were those lies, too?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” he sputtered with an innocence Susana might have believed if she hadn’t been sitting right here throughout a very damning conversation.
The man was unconscionable.
“I suggest you see to your accounts, Stafford. Good day.” The duke’s tone was beyond dismissive. As the marquess rushed past him, in something of a dither, Caithness murmured, under his breath, “And good luck.”
* * *
Andrew and his brother met in the library before dinner. With the kerfuffle of Stafford’s visit, and the revelations of Scrabster’s purloined letters, they hadn’t yet had a moment alone, so sitting before the fire with a tumbler of whiskey together was wonderful. So much like old times, it made his chest hurt. Still, unease skirled in Andrew’s gut; he knew there were unaddressed issues between them, and this seemed as good a time as any to tackle them.
He cleared his throat and Alexander glanced at him, but Andrew was unsure where to begin.
Alexander took the lead from him. “So…” he said. “Isobel.”
Andrew tried not to flinch. There was no reason to flinch, surely. “Aye.”
“Is she your daughter?”
“Aye. She is.”
“But you’ve never been to Dounreay. Why did you not tell me you knew Hannah’s sister?”
Andrew gazed down at the swirling whisky. “When I was in Perth, I met a girl named Mairi
. I fell in love with her. She … died.”
Alexander’s lips tightened. “I’m so sorry. I dinna know that. You never mentioned her—”
“Nae. I couldna bear to.”
“I wondered why…”
“Why, what?”
“You were … different when you returned.”
“I was mourning. I never forgot her. Never stopped … loving her. I kissed a hundred women searching for … that.”
Alexander snorted a laugh. “You kissed Lana.”
“I have wondered…”
His brother glanced up at his dark tone. Frowned. “Wondered what?”
“If you sent me away because of that.”
Alexander gaped at him. “I chose you for this mission because you were the best. And frankly, the man I trusted most. And as I suspected, you handled things beautifully. Not only did you protect my wife’s land and her family, you uncovered a plot that could reach to the highest levels of the land.”
Andrew turned back to the fire. “I only wanted to make you proud.”
Alexander shook his head. “Make me proud?”
“Aye. To pay you back, if only in some small way, for all you’ve sacrificed, all you’ve given to me.”
Without a word, Alexander stood and came to his chair, yanked him up, and folded him into a huge hug. Then he set his palms on either side of Andrew’s face and stared him in the eye. “Andrew, you’ve always made me proud. Prouder than you can ever know. You never had to prove yourself to me. Not ever. And as far as paying me back? What nonsense.”
Andrew frowned. It wasn’t nonsense. It was—
“You’re my brother. My family. My heart. I would have done anything and everything to keep you safe. Because I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He hated that his voice caught on the words. Or maybe not.
Alexander clapped him on the back and then retook his seat. “With that out of the way—” He shot a quizzical look at Andrew. “It is out of the way, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” Finally. Thank God. It was like a weight off his soul.
“I’m dying to hear the rest of this story.”