Lady Rowena MacLawry ducked behind the old tumble of stones. She’d asked Lachlan to stay away from Jane, and yet there he was, being … chivalrous. And flirting. She wrinkled her nose. He’d never bothered to check whether her foot was in the stirrup, for heaven’s sake. Once he’d even ridden off and left her when she’d claimed to have a dizzy spell.
Not that she cared, of course. Adam, Lord Samston, had just this morning compared her eyes to sapphires. He always offered her an arm when they went walking, and he’d kissed her. Rowena touched her fingers to her lips. It had been a … well, a glorious kiss. Everything she’d ever dreamed of. And if once upon a time she’d dreamed that it would be Lachlan to give her her first kiss, well, that was just stupidity. He’d made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in her.
She’d only circled back to make certain Jane was well. Taking a breath, she glanced around the broken masonry again. Both horses and riders had vanished into the misty morning. Perhaps they were holding hands and exclaiming about how purple the thistles were. She certainly didn’t care.
“What the devil are ye doing in here, lass?”
Rowena squeaked, whipping her head around. Lachlan MacTier, Lord Gray, leaned against what had once been a doorway of the old fortress, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression amused. Drat. “I thought I saw a ghost,” she lied. As she straightened, something caught at the back of her skirt, pulling her back onto her knees again.
“‘A ghost?’” he repeated. “Old Lady Teàrlag, come to find her cheating husband?”
“I don’t know,” she returned, twisting to tug at the back of her riding habit. The only thing worse than being discovered by stupid Lachlan was being trapped here. “It made me curious.”
“Ye always have been fearless, Rowena. I’ll give ye that.”
She stopped tugging and faced him again. “What did you call me?”
“Rowena. It’s yer name, isnae?”
A soft shiver ran down her spine at his low brogue saying her name. “You never call me Rowena. It’s always ‘Winnie, you have burrs in your hair,’ or ‘Winnie, leave me be’.” There. That was what she needed to remember—that he thought of her as a child, as a sister, and that Lord Samston had kissed her.
He straightened, pushing away from the mossy wall and making his way closer. “I dunnae think ye saw Lady Teàrlag, lass. I think ye wanted to know what I was doing oot here with Jane Hanover.”
“You were out here with Jane?” She seized on the admission. “I asked you to leave her be. Arran nearly broke her heart, and now you and Bear are … well, you’re here, and she’s very romantic.”
Lachlan crouched beside her. His gaze on her face, he leaned closer and slowly reached back around her. Rowena held her breath. He was just teasing, because he couldn’t stand the fact that she was no longer infatuated with him, that she’d moved on to find a man worthy of her attentions and affection.
With a hard tug he freed her skirt. She started to her feet immediately, but he caught her arm and held her there, eye to eye with him. “Jane mentioned that that shiny lad, what is it? Sandstone? That he—”
“Samston,” she corrected, not gazing at his mouth.
“That he kissed ye,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Damnation,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks warm. “I told Jane to be quiet about it. The last thing I want is one of my brothers piling into him fists first.”
“It’s nae just yer brothers he needs to worry over.”
“Oh, please.” She yanked her arm free and scrambled awkwardly to her feet on the uneven stones. She needed something. Height. Not having him be so very close to her. Something. “You can pretend you’re my brother, but I already have three. I don’t need another one. And if I’m to fall in love and marry, I will need to speak with men. Dance with them, even.” She put a hand to her chest. “My goodness, I might even find someone who loves me in return. Kissing might very well be involved.”
“That’s nae amusing, Rowena.”
“It’s not meant to be.” Turning, she shoved him in his rather broad, hard chest. “Go away. Leave me be. I chased you for eighteen years, and now I’ve learned the error of my ways. I was a silly child who didn’t know any better. I don’t want you any longer. The only thing I do want from you, Lachlan MacTier, is for you not to interfere with my chances at romance and happiness.”
Before she could pull her hand away, he grabbed her wrist, holding her against him. “I know ye still like me, Rowena, and I know ye’re only trying to make me jealous by kissing that dainty fop.”
“He’s not a fop. He’s just fashionable. Something about which you know nothing.” She tugged, but his grip was like iron. Other people said Lachlan had a temper, but she’d honestly never seen it. Not directed at her. “I’m not trying to do anything to you,” she continued, finally looking up to meet his lush green gaze. “Eighteen years of being ignored and laughed at is long enough. Now let me go.”
“I’ll nae have ye looking at me like I’m nae a man,” he said in a lower tone, unmoving. “Like ye can blink yer pretty eyes and I become invisible. Ye can decide ye dunnae want me, but it’ll nae be because ye’ve decided I dunnae exist.” He glanced past her, where she’d been perched watching him flirting with Jane. “Because ye’re only pretending ye dunnae like me, Rowena. And I know it.”
With a twist of his hand he yanked her up against him. She gasped, and his hard, warm mouth closed over hers. He wasn’t gentle at all, but then he was a Highlander born and bred. He wasn’t gentlemanly or shiny like any of the men who’d followed her north to Glengask. Power, passion, anger—Rowena closed her eyes at the sheer force of him. Lachlan MacTier, kissing her. Devouring her. And just for that moment, she wanted to be devoured.
Abruptly he pushed her away, setting her on her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. “Now pretend I’m invisible,” he murmured, straightening.
Rowena stood there in the ruins of Castle Muldoon and stared at him. If this had been a year ago—three months ago, even—she would have been … Well, it wasn’t three months ago, was it? It was today, and she had other plans.
“I see you just fine,” she stated, and slapped him as hard as she could. “No, you’re not invisible. And you’re not nearly as charming as you think you are. Go away, Lachlan MacTier.”
A red mark shaped like her hand began to appear on Lachlan’s tightly clenched jaw, though he hadn’t bothered acknowledging the hit. “Very well,” he drawled. “But this isnae over with, Rowena.” He flashed a surprising grin. “Now ye’ve made it interesting.”
He turned on his heel, and after a moment the sounds of Lachlan and his horse faded into the mist. Around her the trees whispered, and she could almost believe the broken grounds and tragic Lady Teàrlag were speaking to her. And from what she knew of Lady Teàrlag, they were in complete agreement about the deserved fate of flirts and philanderers.
She was not about to fall into the same trap again. Not when she’d finally escaped it—him. Not when she had a half dozen handsome young men of title and wealth all pursuing her, and not when her oldest brother had asked her to choose wisely, and for both herself and the clan’s benefit. Lachlan was likely playing, anyway, angry that the puppy who’d tagged after him for so long had decided she preferred being elsewhere.
But he was correct about one thing; she was not going to be able to continue pretending that he was invisible. Not after that kiss. Not when for a bare second she’d remembered how much she’d once longed to be kissed just like that, and by him. “Damn ye, Lachlan MacTier,” she muttered, letting her own brogue loose for a moment. “It is over. It is.”
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
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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 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.
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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.
ROGUE WITH A BROGUE
Copyright © 2014 by Suzanne Enoch.
Excerpt from Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid copyright © 2014 by Suzanne Enoch.
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Rogue with a Brogue: A Scandalous Highlanders Novel Page 31