“Aye.” She had, and he hadn’t even thought to approach her about any of this. In his own defense, any conversation with Bear’s nearly betrothed would have to be a delicate one, and he didn’t feel diplomatic at the moment. “She lied to us, and so did Bear.”
“B— She’s at Haldane, then?” The middle MacLawry brother swore again. “No wonder he keeps going oot there. Why’s he hiding her, though? Did she spin some tale about Torriden? Bear never could resist a rescue. Or a pretty lass.”
“I dunnae know what she told him. She’s an … odd bird, though. Wears men’s clothes. I caught her digging oot the old Haldane garden with a shovel. She threatened to run me through with it.” He hadn’t believed her, of course; her expression had been more startled and horrified than anything else. Not frightened, though. Not of him, anyway. Just of him seeing her.
“She threatened ye? And why did Bear hit ye?”
Ranulf clenched his jaw. The simplest, most honest answer was that Munro had punched him because he’d insulted the lass. That made Bear more of a gentleman than he was, though, and everyone knew how unlikely that was. “I told him that he either needed to bring the lass here to hand her over to Torriden, or get her as far oot of MacLawry territory as he could manage.”
“That sounds … reasonable. We’ve had a year of peace. Risking it fer a mannish chit who’s promised to a MacDonald isnae someaught I’d like to see.”
“Well, arenae ye civilized now?” Ranulf said dryly.
“I’m a father, Glengask. As ye are.” He sat forward. “Where is Bear? I’ll go see if I can talk some sense into him. Torriden seems pleasant enough. I dunnae see how the Lady Catriona lass could object to him.”
“He’s still at Haldane. After he walloped me, I told him he wasnae welcome back at Glengask until he dealt with the lass. He lied to me, and that has consequences.”
Arran blinked. “Ye … Torriden was raised English, Ranulf. If he finds oot ye ordered yer brother to remain in her company … She’ll be ruined. I cannae think the MacDonald will like that.”
“Aye. That’s why I sent fer ye. I didnae handle him as well as I should have. I ken that’s my fault. He hauled me off my damned feet.” He decided that Arran’s responding snort was out of annoyance and not amusement. “I’m asking ye to go see him in the morning and see if ye can convince him to be more reasonable. This shouldnae have a thing to do with us. I’ll nae have Bear drag us into the middle of another clan’s business just because he’s stubborn and thinks a lass needs a rescue.”
His brother nodded. “I’ll chat with him. And remind him that Elizabeth is here withoot him.” He glanced toward the curtained window. “Aside from that, I’d nae be surprised if we have snow tomorrow. Haldane Abbey’s no place to be when the weather turns.”
Hopefully Bear wasn’t stubborn enough to risk that. It was bad enough that he wanted to marry a proper, dainty lass who looked like she’d blow over in a stiff wind. If he dug in his heels about a lass meant for a chieftain of another clan just because his brother had told him to be rid of her … Damnation. Ranulf had learned over the years that simply bellowing orders didn’t always suffice. But Bear had always been the hard fist behind his commands—not the one countering them.
“Ranulf?”
He looked up again. “Aye?”
“It may take some blunt to fix this. If I know Bear, he’ll nae abandon a lass. Especially one who might have batted her eyes at him and asked fer his help.”
“I offered her a thousand pounds already. She turned me doon.”
“Perhaps she figures Bear could see her with more.” Arran thought for a moment. “With two or three thousand quid she’d be able to rent her own coach and find herself a cottage in Aberdeen fer the rest of her life, if she wanted. With that, Bear would see that she doesnae require his rescue. Maybe I can make him see that she’d actually be safer withoot him attracting everyone’s attention.”
Ranulf nodded. “Make it three thousand, then. Ye can tell him aboot her safety, but offer her the blunt oot of Bear’s hearing. See if ye can convince her there willnae be any more, and that I willnae have my brother tangled into this mess.”
“I can do that.”
It all sounded straightforward and logical, but something nagged at the back of his mind. Munro had courted sisters before—Bethia and Flora Peterkin were only the latest—but if he truly meant to wed Elizabeth MacColl he bloody well couldn’t remain in an abandoned house with Catriona MacColl. That was not how the MacLawrys handled themselves. If the redhead had dug her claws into him for money and protection then Arran would have quite the conversation tomorrow.
But the lass had held a shovel on him. And she’d all but ordered Bear to behave himself … and his brother had listened to her. Ranulf shook himself. Whatever this was, it would end tomorrow. It had to, for all their sakes.
* * *
Catriona sat cross-legged before the kitchen hearth and watched Bear pace. With his head lowered, his thoughts clearly far from Haldane Abbey, and his long, athletic stride, he looked more like his namesake than ever. That black, shaggy hair hanging nearly to his shoulders, those bright green eyes—he could have anyone, be with anyone, marry anyone. Why in the world had he decided she should be the one for whom he fell? For God’s sake, she didn’t even know how to curtsy.
And yet for her he’d punched the chief of clan MacLawry. He’d accepted—practically demanded, really—exile from the home he’d known his entire life. He’d separated himself from his siblings, when everyone knew that nothing came between the MacLawrys.
“What’s troubling ye?” she made herself ask, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer.
“Peter should be here by now,” he replied, stopping to take a swallow of tepid tea and then resuming his pacing.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s what’s troubling ye? That Peter Gilling is tardy? Dunnae ye ken ye have larger worries than that?”
Altering course, he seated himself beside her. “I do, as a matter of fact,” he drawled. “I forgot to ask fer pretty gloves, and I doubt Peter will think to bring ’em along.”
“‘Pretty gloves’?” she repeated.
“Ye’ll see. Ye asked fer my help, and I’ll do my best fer ye.” He reached over to tug on her hair, bringing her closer and kissing her softly on the mouth.
“With wee delicate gloves.”
“Dunnae sass me, woman.”
She chuckled. “Ye can try to stop me.”
A knock sounded at the door. Releasing her, Munro stood again and lifted the bar. “It’s aboot damned…”
As he trailed off, Catriona looked up. And couldn’t quite stifle her gasp. The tall, black-haired Adonis in the doorway had to be his other brother, Arran. The middle MacLawry brother. She shoved to her feet, more because she didn’t want anyone towering over her than because she was frightened. Damnation. So Lord Glengask had decided to send someone else to gawk at her and order her to either marry Torriden or go far away. Why couldn’t they simply leave things be? Why couldn’t they just go away?
“What do ye want, Arran?” Munro asked, keeping a hand on the door, presumably so he could shut it on his brother if need be.
“Cannae a lad call on his brother if he wants to?” Light blue eyes caught hers. “And the sister of the lass his brother’s decided to marry?”
Something … unpleasant thudded through her. And not because she’d hardly spared her sister more than a half-dozen thoughts in over a week. The MacLawrys still thought Bear wanted to marry Elizabeth. He hadn’t said or done anything to dispose them of that belief. Of course he would say that he’d done it for her, to keep attention on Elizabeth, who was safe at Glengask and only being pursued by an Englishman. And he had done it for her; she was certain of that. All the same, she still didn’t like even hearing that Bear was meant for someone else.
“That depends,” Bear returned, still blocking most of the doorway, “on what the lad means to say to his brother and the lass.”
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Lord Arran frowned. “So ye’ve a mind to stay barricaded in here until Torriden goes away? Ye ken that snow is coming. Planks and a tarp willnae keep the winter oot of this room. Nor will one fire amid broken walls keep ye warm.”
“Ye arenae saying anything I dunnae already know. If Glengask wants ye to frighten me, well, he cannae. And neither can ye. I gave my word to keep this lass safe.”
“Then let me speak to her fer a moment, ye big ox. I’ll nae try to drag her away, or say anything against either of ye.”
“Ye’ll say naught to her that ye cannae say in front of me. We dunnae need yer clever tongue here.”
The middle MacLawry brother blew out his breath. “There are plenty of things I cannae say in front of ye, because ye’re so damned determined to make this into a fight. I’m nae here to fight. I’m bloody well nae here to get my nose broken. So ye go and sit in the corner, and let me have a word with the lass. Unless ye’re scared of what she might say to me.”
It made sense. The MacLawrys wanted to know her intentions, how much trouble she was willing to cause, and perhaps even if she had grounds for her dislike of Lord Torriden. They wanted their brother back, and she happened to be the stumbling block. Swallowing, Catriona stepped forward. Arran was the cleverest of them, Bear had said, though her giant had far more wits about him than she’d first expected. She didn’t feel at all clever, herself, but she could be honest. “I’ll go fer a stroll with ye, Laird Arran,” she said, rather pleased that her voice remained steady.
“Nae,” Bear cut in. “Ye willnae.”
She shoved at his hip, trying to make room for herself to get through the doorway. “I’m nae certain I heard ye, there. Did ye just say ye werenae going to let me talk?”
With a grumble that sounded more like a growl, he shifted sideways. “Do as ye will, then. But I’m nae standing here in the corner. Ye have yer chat, and I’ll be keeping an eye on the two of ye, just to be certain things stay civilized.”
Arran offered his arm as she left the kitchen for the hallway, but she pretended not to notice and instead led the way toward the broken front doors. “What do ye have to say to me, then?” she prompted, as they reached the front drive.
“Nae pleasant talk aboot the weather?” he returned, lifting an eyebrow. “Or a question aboot how yer own sister is faring withoot her betrothed?”
“If that’s what ye wish to talk aboot, I suppose I can follow along. But ye might have said all that in front of Bear.”
A brief smile touched his mouth. “So I might’ve. Very well, then. To the point, it is. My brother Ranulf and I reckon that Bear’s nae one to abandon ye in a predicament, so I can help ye get to wherever it is ye wish to go. Aberdeen, Edinburgh, even to the Continent or the Americas. Glengask said he offered ye a thousand pounds. In my view, ye want to stay hidden, so I’ll triple that fer ye.”
“That’s very generous of ye.” And considering that they seemed to have no idea that she and Munro were … together, she had to wonder if a subsequent offer would be more or less generous.
“Aye. We’ve nae quarrel with the MacDonalds, but by virtue of the fact that we’re MacLawrys, we get noticed. Glengask reckons he was a wee bit too forceful yesterday, so I’m here to make certain ye ken that we’ve no wish to harm ye. It’s clear that ye dunnae want to be married to Lord Torriden, and because ye’re to be my brother’s in-law, we’ll nae force that on ye, either. But ye need to go away from here. If ye’re discovered, ye’ll be putting us, and Bear, into the middle of the MacDonald squabble.”
Oh, it all made sense. A great deal of sense. And a few weeks ago she might have jumped at the chance to fund herself well away from the MacDonalds. She couldn’t leave the Highlands, though, when it was the only place she felt comfortable. A house without a roof looking to join the floor, though, and a cow for milk—she could see herself with that. Or she could have.
He was right about something else she’d never truly considered, either. Bear was very noticeable. Even if he hadn’t been one of the infamous MacLawry siblings, he was tall, broad-shouldered, and striking. Being with him anywhere made the odds of her staying hidden much worse.
And yet neither was it all so straightforward. Everything had become more complicated. Now someone else owned her heart, and even if he garnered more attention sent in her direction, she couldn’t imagine being somewhere he was not. “I understand yer predicament,” she said slowly, trying to find the most correct and least offensive words, “and I’m sorry to have caused it. That wasnae why I brought Elizabeth here.”
“Why did ye bring her here?”
“I couldnae bring her to Islay, because of—”
“Because of Torriden,” he finished for her. “There are other places outside of Islay and London.”
She nodded. “Aye. I reckon I might have taken her to another city. She likely would’ve been happier with people aboot. But we didnae have any money, so I couldnae have seen her with a nice place to stay in a town, anyway. It’s easier to be poor in the countryside, I reckon.”
“She would have been happier,” he repeated, setting upon that tiny portion of her comments like a hound on a rabbit. “Ye prefer to nae have people aboot?”
Catriona glanced over her shoulder for Bear, but he stalked just out of earshot, evidently waiting for her signal before he charged into battle. She stifled a sigh. Lord Arran had to know how out of place she would be in any town just by looking at her. “I’ve nae illusions about myself, if that’s yer meaning.”
“I’m just curious,” Arran returned. “Bear seems very determined to protect ye.”
With a shrug she stopped by the low front wall. “I’ve told him over and over that I dunnae need protection. I can look after myself.”
“And yet he put a fist into our bràthair’s face when Ranulf said ye needed to leave.” He favored her with another sideways glance. “Ye ken why we cannae have ye staying here, aye?”
Oh, she understood. Her presence meant nothing but trouble for all the MacLawrys, and for Bear especially. And yet the idea of leaving, of being without him in her life … She’d never felt selfish before. But she did now. She wanted Munro. She wanted to stay in the Highlands. “I ken that I came here to keep my sister safe, and to hide myself. I dunnae quite feel like that lass any longer—or I didn’t, until ye and yer big brother came to stare at me like I was a king’s jester.”
“Ye speak yer mind, I see.”
“I’m nae dressed fer subtlety.”
He tilted his head, light green eyes assessing, and very different from the warm, direct gaze of his younger brother. “Then I’ll be direct, as well. I think ye’ve been stared at before, Lady Catriona. And I think ye didnae want to be stared at by the man promised to marry ye. Unless ye’ve been sewn into those clothes, ye dunnae have to wear ’em, so I reckon ye didnae want to be fit fer Lord Torriden. My question is, why are ye claiming ye dunnae need Bear aboot, and then keeping him close by yer side?”
Just like that, he’d read her character, assessed her thoughts, and declared her a coward. And he wasn’t too far off, either. “Ask yer brother, m’laird. He’s nae in chains.”
“I married a Campbell lass,” he said unexpectedly. “Did ye know that? The granddaughter of the Campbell.”
“Bear told me. And I’ve heard tales.”
“I nearly began a war to keep her by my side. And I’d do it again, in a heartbeat. Mary’s the air in my lungs, and the blood in my veins.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment. I dunnae quite see the p—”
“My point is,” he broke in, his voice still low and steady and cool, as if they were discussing cattle or the wheat harvest and not her entire future, “if ye came here to escape a marriage ye didnae want, I’ve three thousands pounds that’ll see ye where ye want to go. Ye can make yerself safe, and if ye live frugally ye’ll nae have to find employment anywhere. If ye’re here fer another reason, ye’d best be ready to fight. Fight the MacLawrys fer it. Do ye ken?”
“Aye.”
With that he pulled a billfold from his pocket and handed it to her. “Dunnae do what ye think is right. Do what ye know is right. My brother’s put his arse in the middle of this, and he doesnae know how to change his course once he’s settled on someaught. Dunnae make him regret his loyalty.”
As Arran MacLawry nodded and turned toward his younger brother, Catriona closed her fingers around the billfold. Three thousand pounds would see her to Aberdeen and into a small house, with more than enough left over to give her time to find … something she could do to make a living. Or perhaps a cottage in the country, where she could keep to herself. She would still be herself, of course—whatever she did, she couldn’t seem to be rid of that.
She turned to watch as the brothers spoke for a moment and then shook hands, suspicion in the hard, straight line of Bear’s shoulders, and caution in the way Arran set his feet, ready to dodge a blow. That was wrong; the MacLawrys were united. Always. And two of the three brothers now had made it very clear that they didn’t consider her worthy of being part of the clan—even as the sister to the lady they both seemed to think Bear should and would be marrying.
As Arran swung up onto his black Thoroughbred, the cart and Peter Gilling bumped into view along the drive. The back of the wagon rose in an irregularly shaped mound, the load covered with a heavy tarp. Whatever Bear had sent for, evidently he’d meant it to last him for some time.
“What are ye carrying, Peter?” Arran asked, reining in beside the cart.
The footman flushed. “I couldnae say, Laird Arran. I cannae read, as ye know, so I didnae see the list. I was put in charge of gathering Laird Bear’s clothes and boots.”
The middle MacLawry brother twisted in the saddle to face the abbey. “The back half of this building fell beneath the weight of winter snow, Bear. I dunnae want to come oot and find the front half gone with ye inside it.”
“Mind yer own hoose, Arran, and I’ll mind mine,” Bear returned, his fingers brushing against hers.
“So be it.” With a nudge of his heels Arran MacLawry sent his mount into a trot. In a moment he was gone behind the overgrown weeds and foliage.
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