“I think we’ve all just been insulted,” Lady Glengask murmured, a fair degree of humor in her tone, as Ranulf made his way over and relieved her of the spent pistol.
Beside Munro, Cat took a deep breath. “Ye cannae make her do this,” she murmured, then continued in a louder voice. “Elizabeth, ye need nae do this to—”
“You told me I should never let other people dictate my life for me, Cat,” her sister returned, her gaze on Lord Torriden rather than her sister. “I envied you for the freedom you had. But then you never told me that you were fleeing for the same reason I was. So if you don’t mind, I would like to think about what Bear said for a moment. For my own sake.”
Lord Torriden looked confused. Glengask, on the other hand, stood beside Charlotte to watch the play unfold with an expression of keen interest on his face. Munro didn’t expect him to argue; if it kept trouble from clan MacLawry, Ranulf would consider it.
“My lady, Elizabeth, I’m … What the devil are the lot of you talking about?” the viscount blustered, standing in an attempt to tug his disheveled clothes back into some semblance of order.
“About you,” Elizabeth answered. “And me.”
“But I … I am promised to your sister. However we—I—may feel, I am obligated to—”
“Ye arenae,” Bear broke in, deciding that while it might be a positive happenstance that he hadn’t knocked the man out cold, he didn’t want to listen to him any longer. “Fer the last damned time, ye cannae have her. She is mine.”
“Ye cannae have me,” Catriona echoed, moving still closer against Bear’s side. Clever, clever Bear. Could this be happening? Could she have what—who—she truly wanted? The only thing she’d ever allowed her heart to desire?
“I…” Torriden looked about the room. “Perhaps you and I might have a word in private, Elizabeth,” he said. “I will not make my decisions based on the convenience of other people. Particularly not those of another clan.” He sent a pointed glance at Bear. “Or those who prefer punching to dialogue.”
“Certainly.” With one of her charming smiles Elizabeth wrapped her hand around his arm, and the two of them made their way out of the room.
For a moment the remaining diners sat or stood where they were, looking at each other. “Well, that was a surprise,” Arran finally commented.
The marquis cleared his throat. “Bear. Munro, if ye would, take Lady Catriona up to the library before ye stomp oot of the house. Wait fer a few minutes while we figure things oot.”
“I dunnae think ye’ll be figuring anything oot,” Bear returned. “I figured it oot, when it was there right in front of ye the entire time. Fer once none of this is up to ye, is it?”
“Nae, it isnae,” Glengask retorted. “And nae, I dunnae like the way ye decided to risk the safety of this family fer yer own sake. But as I do want what makes ye happy, give me a damned minute to see what happens and then have a word with Torriden.”
Bear looked as though he preferred to stay and argue, so Catriona yanked on his hand. “The library, Munro. Show it to me.”
As they passed the closed door of the morning room on the way to the stairs she was certain she heard the low murmur of voices. Resisting the temptation to stay and eavesdrop, she and Munro headed upstairs and then into a room with large, tall windows and a roaring fire in the hearth. Outside snow continued to fall, heavier now.
Behind her the door closed, and then warm, strong arms wrapped around her waist. “Ye jumped on Lachlan, ye wildcat,” Bear murmured into her hair, chuckling.
“Of course I did,” she returned stoutly, turning to face him and lifting up on her toes to catch his mouth in a kiss. “I couldnae see ye outnumbered, even though ye shouldnae have punched Torriden. He’s nae the first man to insult me.”
“He’ll be the last one to try it.”
She smiled. “Yer sister hugged me, Bear. Most women won’t even look at me straight on. We had a chance.”
“Nae. We have a chance, if pretty Torriden has any brains in his head. If he wants to keep breathing.”
“Stop threatening people, giant. Ye were lucky that ye bloodying Torriden’s beak made Elizabeth want to go tend him. If she hadnae…”
“But she did.” He held her a little away from him. “Did I mention that there’s nae a man or a woman in the world who can order me aboot, except fer ye?”
“I’m beginning to realize that some people might find ye difficult to manage,” she returned.
He sighed. “Aye. And I suppose that MacDonald fool could refuse the idea. If he’s here to begin a war with yer side of the clan, he’ll nae take yer sister. Whatever happened, I should at least have demanded we spend the night here. I want ye in a proper bed. I want ye beneath me in soft sheets, with goose down to cushion ye.”
Catriona laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “In all of this mess, that’s what concerns ye?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “Ye want me to have a cushion for my arse?”
“I want ye to have the life ye want, where ye can wear trousers or a gown, sew or hunt, and have a damned soft bed to lie in. Is that so mad?” he demanded, frowning.
She kissed him again. “Nae. It isnae mad. It’s wonderful. Ye’re wonderful.” Another kiss, softer and slower as his temper cooled. “Ye said I have yer heart, my giant. Ye have mine, ye ken.”
His springtime-colored eyes held hers, and then he took both her hands in his and sank to one knee.
Good heavens. She’d known they would be together, but to see … this. And now, when for the first time she felt some optimism about her future … It was almost too much. Almost.
“I told ye I’d keep ye safe,” he said quietly. “That isnae enough. What I should have said is that I’d do everything in my power to see ye happy. That I will love ye from my first breath in the morning to my last breath at night, and all through my dreams. That ye’ve made me a better man than I thought I was. Wherever we end up, Catriona MacColl, I want to be with ye there. Forever. Will ye marry me, my lass?”
She sighed, slowly and happily. “Ye’re a brave, stubborn man, Munro MacLawry. Ye’re the first man ever to see … me. I never thought I’d fall in love at all, and I tried nae to fall in love with ye, but I couldnae help myself. Ye’ve already seen me happy. Aye, I’ll marry ye. I’d marry ye twice, if I could.”
He pulled her down onto his knee and kissed her, wrapping his large hands around her and holding her hard against him. She couldn’t even breathe, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t a dream any longer. Munro had said he was hers, and she his, but now it was real. They were real. Their future was real. She had no idea where they might find themselves, but they would be together. After she’d thought she would always be alone.
“Well, ye dunnae mean to make anything easy fer me, do ye?” Ranulf MacLawry said from the direction of the doorway.
She hadn’t even heard the door open. When she tried to rise, though, Bear only scooped her into his arms and off her feet completely as he stood. “Just so ye realize that this is how it will be,” he said, the humor leaving his eyes. “Cat and me. Together.”
“Ye made that fairly clear, Bear.” The marquis turned his gaze to her. “Yer sister saved ye, ye ken.”
She tried to gain her feet, knocking Bear in the shoulder until he relented and set her down. “She and Lord Torriden … Goodness, I cannae even say it.”
“I’ll say it, then,” Glengask returned. “They came to an agreement. I thought she was helping ye oot all this time, keeping the viscount distracted. Now I’m nae so certain she didnae have someaught in mind all along.”
“I never gave her enough credit,” Catriona said, wondering if the smile she felt pulling at her mouth was at all proper, under the circumstances.
“Neither did I,” he said. “She may have just caught on quickly to Bear’s plan, or she may have been playing a game, but she’s nae a woman to cross.” He paused. “May I have a private word with ye, lass?”
“Nae,” Bear uttered.
“Aye,” she said, glaring up at him and then walking across the room to his brother. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve been trying since he was eight years old to get him to do as I say,” the marquis commented, keeping his voice low. “He listens to ye, though. Ye calm him, I think.”
“I love him,” she returned.
“This isnae at all what I expected, ye know. At first I thought Bear had found some English-bred lass he wanted to rescue. We all assumed he meant to marry yer sister.”
“I tried to get him to do that, to save her from Visford,” she admitted. “He was surprised. And then he got mad at me.”
“I should have paid closer attention. I knew he’d been restless, but I thought all I needed to do was send a likely lass in his direction.” The marquis looked past her shoulder. “Before he comes over here to knock me on my arse again, I want to apologize to ye. I’ve become accustomed to seeing things my own way. Ye made me see through yer eyes fer a moment there, in the dining room. I misjudged ye.”
Catriona imagined that Lord Glengask was not a man who apologized often. She nodded. “My father either never realized, or at least never admitted, that he’d made a mistake, and he had far more cause to apologize to me than ye do. I … The idea of being a part of a family that’s willing to go to such extremes for each other warms me to my toes, m’laird. I hope I can be a part of it.”
“Ye already are.” He took a step backward. “I was apologizing, Bear. Dunnae pummel me.”
“It’s settled, then? Torriden has the MacColl he wants, and he’ll leave us be? Ye’ll leave us be?”
“Aye, and nae. Aye, Torriden has said he wishes to marry Elizabeth. And nae, I’ll nae leave ye be, because ye’re a part of this family. As is the lass to whom ye’ve just proposed. So kiss her, and then come doon to the dining room so we can find some clean plates and finish eating whatever ye didnae smash.”
“I’ll kiss her after ye leave the damned room, Glengask.”
Despite his words, Bear offered his hand to his brother, who shook it promptly. Thank heavens. With another glance at her, the marquis turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
“And now fer ye, wildcat.” Bear swung her up in the air, twirling her about and kissing her.
“Stop flinging me aboot like a sack of potatoes, ye heathen,” she ordered, laughing. She felt so light inside she wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if she could fly through the air. This was joy, she realized. The first of many moments of joy.
“Very well,” he said, setting her back on her feet again, but not releasing her. “Did ye know those workers saw ye the other day? I saw them looking up at the roof, but ye were gone by then. They must’ve been the ones gossiping to Torriden.”
She frowned. “I didn’t go outside. I havenae yet, with the workers there and me trying to look like a lady. I dunnae know what they were talking about.”
“But…” He trailed off. “It doesnae matter, I suppose. I have ye, and if ye wish it, we’ll have Haldane fer ourselves.”
She already fallen half in love with the old ruin, even with only one livable room inside. Even if it was haunted. After all, that was where she’d met Munro. And where she’d realized that a man like him could love a lass like her. “I do wish it,” she said. “As long as ye give me a big, soft bed.”
He roared with laughter. “I’ll give ye a big, soft bed, my wildcat. As long as ye share it with me.”
“Then we have an accord, giant. Now kiss me again.”
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 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. Or sign up for email updates here.
Also by
SUZANNE ENOCH
Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid
Rogue with a Brogue
The Devil Wears Kilts
The Handbook for Handling His Lordship
A Beginner’s Guide to Rakes
Taming an Impossible Rogue
Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke
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
“With her carefully drawn characters and plot chock-full of political intrigue, greed, and scandal, Enoch has put a nifty Regency spin on the Beauty and the Beast story.”
—Booklist
“Suzanne Enoch has a gift for piquing a reader’s interest.”
—Sun Journal
“Ms. Enoch provides an entertaining read … an often amusing and just as often dangerous battle of the sexes that will delight fans.”
—Harriet Klausner
“Dazzling, delicious, and delightful.”
—Karen Hawkins
“Always an eagerly anticipated pleasure.”
—Christina Dodd
“Indulge and be delighted!”
—Stephanie Laurens
“With her fascinating characters, lyrical prose, and whip-smart dialogue, Enoch has created a novel to be cherished.”
—Lisa Kleypas
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Author
Also by Suzanne Enoch
PRAISE FOR SUZANNE ENOCH
Copyright
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.
SOME LIKE IT SCOT
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
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
eISBN: 978-1-4668-3844-4
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / October 2015
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
-o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
Some Like it Scot Page 32