by Amy Jarecki
He thumped his skull. “She’ll come good in a day or two, mark me.”
Finished with shaving, Mairi set the razor down and examined the wound, now starting to scab over. “There’s a knot and a purple bruise.”
“I reckoned there would be.” He grabbed the cloth and wiped his face. “How do I look? Passable for a visit to court?”
“Aye, you are.” She eyed him. “Are you planning a trip to London?”
“Not anytime soon. Never again if it were up to me.”
“Then why go at all?”
He tossed the cloth aside. “Sooner or later Seaforth will call upon me and I’ll have no recourse but to ride alongside him and ensure he eludes trouble.”
“Does His Lordship find trouble often?”
“Aye, he does. And he never seems to mind having me clean up the messes he leaves behind.”
Numb tingling spread across Mairi’s skin. Within the blink of an eye, the horrors from the day Seaforth broke their engagement returned full force. Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head and backed away. That’s right. Mr. MacRae cleaned up the Earl of Seaforth’s blunders, just as he’d attempted to do by offering for her hand. She drew her palm over her mouth to stifle a sob. “You may try, sir. But you cannot always make up for Seaforth’s indiscretions.” Before she crumpled into a weeping heap, Mairi spun on her heel and ran for the cave.
Curses, why had she been so dimwitted to think the laird might actually care for her? Why did she allow herself to feel happiness? Every time her heart fluttered with a modicum of joy, she ended up humiliating herself. For the love of God, the man frowned all the time. He groused all the time. The only reason MacRae had saved her was because it was his sworn duty to protect MacKenzie kin.
She was such a fool to think otherwise. Da was right. Her father needed to make an alliance with a noble family. That’s what she’d been bred for. She may as well face it. If she ever married, which was growing more doubtful by the day, it would be to a man of her father’s choosing. A man who would further her family’s interests. A nobleman who had connections in London, who wore fine silk and velvet doublets and couldn’t grow a full beard in two days if his life depended upon it.
She plopped onto the fur chair and buried her face in her hands. Her future husband would never consider hiding out in the Highlands in a cave. A man as refined as he would carry a sword only for show. His army would do all the fighting for him.
“Mairi,” Dunn whispered right beside her, though she hadn’t heard him come inside.
She turned away. “Leave me be.”
“I cannot do that.” He kneeled, raised his hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, caressed her hair.
Holy Mother, his touch felt so undeniably soothing, Mairi craved for his hand to linger. If only he cared for her, for Mairi MacKenzie, the redheaded lass whom he’d rescued from the grip of dastards. “Please. I cannot bear to have you touch me when you are not truly fond of me.”
“What did you say?”
She looked up through bleary eyes. “You heard me. You said yourself, you clean up Seaforth’s blunders.” She thumped her chest. Hard. “Well, I’m his latest mistake, am I not? He all but left me standing alone at the altar.”
“Good heavens, Mairi, you are not his blunder. Have I not been clear on that?” Reaching over, he pulled her to his breast and cradled her head against his powerful chest. His heart beat a strong rhythm while he smoothed a big gentle hand up and down her spine.
The wonderfulness of his succor was almost too painful to bear.
“You’re the bonniest, most vibrant rose in the Highlands, Mairi MacKenzie.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, and do ye ken what else?”
She shook her head while her daft sobs turned to hiccups.
“You’re right. I do frown when you pay me a compliment.”
“You see? Why do you do it?”
His hand stilled against her back, his body tensed. “Because I’m afraid you’ll reject me once more. Such a rejection I could never again bear.”
Chapter Eleven
Reason told Dunn to keep his mouth shut, but the torture of seeing Mairi weeping and miserable twisted his heart into a hundred knots. How could he continue to hold his tongue? The lass needed to know the truth—needed to know he had not been impervious to her refusal. “Now can you understand why I am sympathetic to your plight? I, too, have been rejected by someone I care for very deeply.”
Mairi gasped and broke away from his embrace. “But Da said…”
“What did your father say?” he asked while his gut churned.
She drew her hand over her mouth as if she were afraid to speak further. But Dunn didn’t need to probe. He knew Cromartie to be a snake. The earl cared nothing about Mairi’s happiness. The man’s only concern was the advancement of his holdings—to gain favor at court and acquire lands and riches. Of course, he would use Mairi as a pawn in his scheme. Many noblemen thought of their alliances before they considered the wishes of their offspring.
And now Dunn had opened his mouth. He’d revealed his hand. Scooting away, he placed a stick of wood atop the coals. They both sat in silence for a time while the fire crackled. Another few days and he’d attempt to take her home again. No doubt the government troops would soon abandon their blockades for duties more critical to the crown. And when the Earl of Cromartie received the missive, he ought to rescind the price on Dunn’s head. In fact, it wouldn’t be a surprise if at any time Ram rode into camp with news that all had been forgiven and the roads were clear.
“Forgive my reticence,” Mairi finally said in a soft tone. “I am overwhelmed with confusion.”
“There is no need to explain.” What was done was done, and MacRae had no intention of cutting open old wounds. Lady Mairi’s father had tied her hands. She could no sooner pledge undying love than change her birthright.
But at least now she knew Dunn’s offer of marriage hadn’t been an act of pity.
“I wonder…,” she said, glancing his way for a moment.
“Hm?” He cracked his thumbs. “Ye ken you can speak freely, m’lady. Anything you say in confidence will nay be repeated by these lips.”
She smiled thoughtfully. “I was just going to ask what duties are mounting whilst you hide away with me.”
Not exactly the question he was expecting, but he welcomed the change of subject. “As I mentioned afore, being the chieftain of a clan is not so different from being an earl—at least what I’ve witnessed from years of following Seaforth around. There are lands to manage and let to crofters. Livestock must be bred, branded, and taken to market. Decisions are made, rents are collected and, at times, discipline must be enforced.”
“Aye, that does sound similar, except you left out the part about increasing your wealth.”
He snorted. “Make no bones about it, lass, all men see to increase their fortunes in one way or another.”
She heaved a long sigh, then her gaze slid his way—a very wise expression for one so young. “Ye ken what I mean.”
“I do, and I reckon if I had a daughter, I would be seeking to make a good alliance with her hand.”
“Would you consider her wishes, or would your word be law?”
He pursed his lips and tapped them with his pointer finger. “I’m not certain I can answer that fairly, given I have sired no children.”
“But what if you had? Imagine yourself with a daughter of marriageable age. She’s bright, she loves and respects you, she’s bonny and good-natured…”
“Does she have red hair?”
Mairi held up a dainty finger. “This is merely theoretical, mind you.”
“Apologies. I was simply adding detail to my imaginary daughter’s rendering.”
“Very well. You can choose her hair color.”
“Brown.”
Mairi’s brow furrowed. “Why brown?”
“Because I have brown hair.”
“Ah. That does make perfect sense.”
Dunn smirked. At least this whole exercise made sense to someone.
“Now close your eyes,” she said.
The least he could do was humor her. “All right. They’re closed.”
“Imagine your daughter with long, flowing brown locks. When she was a wee one, she’d sit on your lap and make you laugh with her antics. You taught her how to ride a horse and how to jump logs and pursue a fox on a hunt. You watched her grow from a wee bairn to a saucy youth and then to a woman full grown. Your daughter is part of you, would do anything for you. She watches you with admiration in her eyes.” Mairi paused for a moment. “Now tell me, when it came time for this daughter to wed, would you consider her wishes?”
It didn’t take Dunn long to respond. “Of course, I would consider her wishes because a daughter like that would have my heartstrings wound tightly around her wee finger.” He shook his head. “But I doubt there would be a man in all of Britain whom I would consider worthy enough for her hand. It would be very difficult indeed to approve of anyone and see her leave my home, venturing out on her own to a life of which I ken will be difficult.”
“Difficult?”
“Aye, life always brings difficulty, lass, especially for women. Childbearing and child rearing are not easy tasks, and many a woman has fallen prey to its perils.”
She gulped. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound romantic at all.”
“I’m speaking from a father’s point of view, mind you.”
“Perhaps we built too vivid a rendering.”
“Nay. I believe it was just enough to stir up my protective instincts.” He slapped his thigh, wishing to give her shoulder an encouraging pat, but things had grown oddly formal between them. “You may have noticed when I set my mind to safeguard anything, I take my responsibility most seriously.”
* * *
The mouthwatering smell of bacon wafted around her. It crackled on the cast-iron griddle. Mairi rolled to her side and slid deeper beneath the fur blanket. She wasn’t ready to wake. It had been so hard to sleep last eve after all Mr. MacRae said. Though she appreciated his candor, she didn’t know what to make of it. The one thought that continually needled her mind was that Mr. MacRae hadn’t proposed marriage out of pity. That fact shocked her to her very core. It took so much time to ponder the significance of his admission. Da had told her that Mr. MacRae would benefit greatly from an alliance with the house of Cromartie and that Mr. MacRae was nothing but a fortune-seeking Highlander. Da had gone on to insist he would make an alliance with Mairi’s hand, one that would ensure the earls of Cromartie grew in power and remained strong influences throughout Scotland as well as England.
Over the years Da spent a great deal of time in London feathering his nest. Of course, all noblemen sought wealth and power. Even Dunn admitted to the fact. But what about happiness? What about love? There hadn’t been much happiness and love at Castle Leod while Mairi was growing up. Most often Da was away, and her brother, Alasdair, rarely paid her any mind. She didn’t remember her mother. In truth, it was the governess who had raised her, a spinster and the seventh daughter of the chieftain of Clan Gunn. The woman was homely with an inordinately large nose. Though strict and unbending, she had provided the nurturing Mairi needed through her formative years. Once Mairi had reached her majority, the governess had accepted another position with the Sinclair family.
After that, Mairi traveled with her father. She sailed to London and attended balls, though her favorite were the gatherings in Scotland with her fellow Highlanders. Often Seaforth visited the same events as her father. Mr. MacRae would be there, too, with his brooding stare. Had he fancied her all along?
Who was to know? Mr. MacRae would never express his true feelings if it meant conflicting with the Earl of Seaforth. In fact, though he wasn’t a peer, the brooding chieftain happened to be the most gentlemanly of the gentlemen Mairi had ever met. And now all was ruined. She had refused him. Such a refusal was final. A lady didn’t turn down a proposal of marriage and turn around and change her mind. Even if she did change her mind, it would be highly improper to return to the suitor and apologize.
Not only improper, but impossible.
A refusal was absolute. The end. In no way would it be proper for her to raise the subject with him.
“Lady Mairi, are you awake, lass?” Dunn’s deep burr rolled through the air and hung there like sweet molasses syrup.
She said nothing for a time, wanting to fall back to sleep where she wasn’t plagued by her thoughts. But he hovered. Unable to keep her eyes closed, she rolled to her back and looked up. “Aye, I am awake.” She covered her mouth and emitted a wee cough.
Dunn leaned nearer like a worried old hen. “Och, are you ill?”
Mairi shook her head. “Not at all. Just tired.”
The crease between his brows eased with his nod. “I’ve cooked up the last of the bacon and put it on a trencher with some oatcakes. I’ll leave you to eat and attend to your needs. And then I reckon ’tis time to teach you how to fend off an attack.”
“Truly?” She thought he may have forgotten. “Do you think I can hold my own against three dastardly dragoons?”
“I think you might be able to purchase time to enable yourself to run away.” He bowed. “I’ll see you outside.”
Mairi clutched the fur still up about her neck. “Have you checked the snare we set?”
“Nay, I thought you might want to come along to have a look.”
Mairi waited until Dunn left the cave before she rose. She made quick work of tending to her morning needs, then she ate the food he had prepared, braided her hair, and set out for a lesson in which she had no idea what to expect. The nicest thing? Mr. MacRae would be the teacher.
Chapter Twelve
Standing in the clearing, Mairi stared at the flintlock pistol in Mr. MacRae’s hand. “How am I expected to carry a weapon of any size on my person? Women do not roam about wearing scabbards of any sort.”
“You’re jumping ahead.” He held up the pistol, then drew his sword and held it aloft as well. “Which do you consider the better weapon?”
“A sword.” She pointed. “A musket has only one shot, and if you miss, about all you can use it for is to club someone over the head—unless you have a bayonet affixed like the soldiers do.”
“Very good. I am impressed.” He rested both weapons on a big rock he used as a table. “And you were correct; a woman cannot easily carry or conceal a sword or a musket of any kind—besides, muskets need black powder and balls of lead, and those things are not easy to tote around.”
Mairi crossed her arms and suppressed a smile. The great chieftain of Clan MacRae was quite entertaining when it came to talking about weapons. Even a spark flashed in his eyes.
He drew his dirk from its scabbard. “The best weapon for a lass is a dirk or dagger.”
“But I had a dagger in my hands when the dragoons attacked.” She shook her finger. “And that wee knife didn’t scare them in the least.”
“That’s ’cause ye did not ken how to use it.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. Mr. MacRae was right. The blasted dagger had trembled in her hand like it was about to be blown away by the wind. She rolled her hand through the air. “Carry on then.”
He set the dirk beside the other weapons, then moved his fists to his hips. He faced her with the same serious expression she’d seen for days now. Though she no longer feared him. His hair hung loose about his shoulders, and the face she’d shaved clean the day before sported a dark shadow. His shirt clung to the solid male beneath, snugly fitting his muscular chest. His kilt was belted low across his hips and, as with all Highlanders, a long length of tartan draped over his shoulder, secured in place by an enormous clan brooch. He wore hose to his knees, secured in place by red ribbon, adorning massively sturdy and powerful legs.
While she stared, he said something indiscernible, followed by an awkward pause. “Are you listening, lass?”
Mairi blinked
.
Dunn was definitely not smiling now.
Weapons training was no time to be ogling the master. “Sorry. What was that?”
“I said, your first defense should always be evasion. Do not put yourself in a situation where you might become a victim.”
“But—”
“I ken, ’tisn’t always possible, but you must think that way. Had you taken an escort into the wood at Urquhart Castle, you would have been safer.”
She nodded.
“Your next option is to run or hide. Remove yourself from the situation.”
“But—”
“You mustn’t keep interrupting me, m’lady. I’m only giving you hypothetical situations. The first lesson of warfare is that you must realize you have options as to how you react. Trust your insides.”
She knit her brows. “I beg your pardon?”
“Have you ever felt a queasiness in your stomach telling you something bad was about to happen?”
“Aye—I did when those soldiers came into the wood.”
“That feeling doesn’t happen for naught. ’Tis an early warning telling you that you must act quickly. Understood?”
“Aye.”
“Right. Then, in the face of danger, never show fear.”
“How—?”
He held up his finger. “Square your shoulders, hold your head high, and above all, make eye contact. You are the daughter of an earl and you will not be trifled with.” He gestured at her with his palm. “Say it.”
“I am the daughter of an earl and I will not be trifled with.”
“I’m not convinced.” He moved in closer, looming as if to slay her with those blasted, piercing dark eyes. “Say it again.”
“I-I—!”
“Say it again,” he bellowed loud enough to be heard in the next county.
This time she squared her shoulders and gave him a stern glare. “I am the daughter of an earl and I will not be trifled with.”
“Better.” He stepped back while Mairi released an enormous breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Am I frightening you?” he asked.