“I am,” she said sweetly. “My mother was French, but I was raised in Suffolk.”
“And how do ye come to be betrothed to the laird?”
“Angus, stop interrogating my future wife.” Gavan was radiating tension next to her.
“Shut it, boyo. Ye left for sixteen years, and now ye come back with a woman. I’ve a right to questions.” Angus’s attention returned to Hannah. “Tell us a story, then. How did ye meet him?”
Hannah squeezed Gavan’s forearm reassuringly. “Gavan and I are neighbors in London. The first time I met him, he was hollering obscenities through my doorway. I pushed him down my steps.”
For confirmation, Angus shifted his glare back to Gavan, who shrugged. The old man’s face split into a wide grin. The murmuring from the crowd changed in tone as they discussed this new information. Hannah suddenly found herself under a new barrage of scrutiny.
It stopped altogether when a boy no larger than Hannah stepped out of the tree line a few yards off the gathering. Under Hannah’s hand, Gavan achieved perfect stillness.
“Fiona?” he whispered.
Not a boy, then. The trousers had thrown Hannah off. Gavan’s sister looked like she hadn’t seen a bath in months. Her hair was a wild black tangle underneath a man’s oversized floppy hat, and a similarly sized coat hid everything but her face and height. She walked closer, drawn to Gavan like a moth to a flame.
“Gavan Dalreoch,” the girl growled.
“Fiona,” Gavan repeated, loud enough to be heard this time.
“So ye know me, then.”
“I know Seamus’s coat and Maggie’s eyes.”
The girl winced and looked away from Gavan like the names hurt her. What had happened to this family? Hannah wanted to weep for them. She wanted to wade in and fix everything that had gone awry.
“That’s good, then,” the girl said, back in control “It’s better ye know me, so ye know why.” She lifted a pistol from the pocket of her father’s coat and aimed it at Gavan.
“Fiona!” Ewan stepped forward.
She launched a stream of curt Gaelic at him that Hannah didn’t understand, but it was sufficient to stop him in his tracks, casting worried looks at Gavan.
“It’s all right, Ewan.” Gavan didn’t take his eyes off his sister.
“Did ye think ye would just bring yer new Anglish wife and start a new family, brother?”
The pistol drifted toward Hannah with the girl’s attention. Gavan’s forearm twitched.
“What about the family ye abandoned!” she screamed.
The horses didn’t take kindly to her tone, and all hell broke loose.
* * *
The sight of Fiona had stopped Gavan’s breath. She was a perfect melding of both her parents. The adopted father he loved. The mother he couldn’t forgive. They were both there in her face in equal parts, and splashing over the top of it all was an ocean of guilt. He’d thought he was getting out of her way so she could lead a normal life, but he recognized the pain in those green eyes. It was something he’d never seen in his mother’s, only his own.
When she’d pulled out the gun, he hadn’t been frightened. It seemed right, seemed like justice, to let her put an end to him. He had left her behind, alone. He had thought Ewan and the clan would be enough, but they hadn’t been, and he had never come home to check. He had never even seen her, before today.
Pointing the gun at Hannah, however, had overridden all of those thoughts and feelings with one visceral rejection. No. Then the horses had spooked, and his body reacted on his heart’s behalf. He had twisted, shielding Hannah with his body. The crack of the flint striking powder and the searing sensation in his back seemed to happen at the same time. Then his knees were buckling from the pain, and Hannah was clinging to him as he fell.
She held his torso up, pressing his head against her chest. He didn’t deserve this death, but he would take it. He’d never done anything heroic in his entire life. How funny that people would probably remember him this way. Hannah would remember him this way.
The ringing in his ears started to dissipate, and the cacophony of voices came through. He could have done without that.
“Gavan! Gavan, can you hear me?”
He focused on Hannah’s voice. Hers was welcome. He managed a smile through the inferno of pain raging through his right shoulder.
“Oh, Gavan.” She was crying. She shouldn’t cry. She hated crying.
“Hannah,” he said. “I believe I’ve been shot.”
Laughter and tears mingled together. “Yes, you have. What were you thinking?”
“It seemed like my turn for some sympathy.” Something prodded him in the back, and he almost lost consciousness.
“Ye’ve a bit of a hole back here, cousin.” He heard Ewan’s voice coming from just over his shoulder.
“Kindly stop poking at it, and leave me to die in peace.”
“Yer nae going to die, ye big whiner. The bullet’s trapped up against yer shoulder bone.”
“You’re not a doctor. Go away.”
“Lads, his mouth is working, so it should be all right. Let’s get him up.”
The burly heathens got hands under and around him, and he lost sight of Hannah as they supported his weight and started moving him indoors.
“Hannah.”
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she said from behind him.
He closed his eyes against the pain of being jostled, and Fiona’s screaming face met him in the blackness. He opened them in a panic, searching the foyer for sight of her. “Fiona. Is Fiona all right?”
Ewan said, “Aye, Gavan. She’ll be all right, assuming I dinnae strangle her.”
They started up the staircase, and Gavan took his opportunity to lose consciousness.
Chapter 18
Gavan came back to the world facedown on the bed he hadn’t slept in since he was a boy. Strips of cloth were bound tightly around his chest and shoulder, and he felt like he had been stabbed in the back repeatedly. He shifted slightly and opened one eye. Hannah came into focus, sitting on a chair beside the bed.
“This feels awful. You should have let me die in the driveway.”
She smiled. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.”
“Selfish. Did you at least avenge the torture I received at Ewan’s hands?”
“Of course,” she said with a mischievous twinkle.
“How did he suffer? Tell me.”
“Well, first I thanked him—”
“Your concept of vengeance is severely disappointing.”
“And then I let him go find your sister.”
Fiona. It was good Ewan was going to her. Gavan didn’t want her to be alone.
“I hope she puts a bullet in him, so I can lay here and tell him how non-vital his wounds are.”
“That was, of course, my hope as well.”
Gavan shifted to get more comfortable and immediately revised his opinion of how far he was from death. “Hannah, is anyone else about?”
“I think your godfather is in the hallway. Why?”
“I need to speak with him.”
She nodded and left his line of sight for a moment. When she came back, Angus was with her.
“What is it, lad?”
“I need you to stay with Hannah at all times. Someone keeps trying to kidnap her.”
Hannah frowned. “Gavan—”
The old man was instantly alert. “Is that true, lass?”
“Yes, but that was in London,” she said with a sigh.
“Will you see to it?” Gavan didn’t need any new problems. He had plenty already.
“Aye,” the older man said. “It would be a shame to lose her, after ye did such a nice job saving her life.”
“Everyone assures me the bullet struck a non-vital area,” Gavan grumbled.
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“On ye, certainly. Yer a sight taller than the lass, though. From rough guess, it would have caught her clean between the eyes.”
Hannah had almost died. The reality of that sank in. He didn’t believe Fiona had fired at her on purpose, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Accident or deliberate, he couldn’t have brought her back.
“That will be quite enough, thank you, Angus,” Hannah said with resignation.
“I’ll just be outside, then.”
* * *
She really wished Angus hadn’t told him that.
When the door closed, Gavan spoke. “You almost died, Hannah.”
“But I didn’t, and you’re going to be fine.”
“I could have lost you. I could lose you at any moment.”
Now was as good a time as any to discuss what she’d been thinking about in the coach, so she sat on the edge of the bed and started in. “Yes, you could, and I could lose you. I’ve been doing some thinking about that.”
“Have you?”
“I have. Why does it have to be all or nothing? Why do you have to ‘keep’ me? Why can’t we just enjoy the time we have together?”
“Because,” he said stubbornly.
Well that was a brilliant explanation. “You’ve bedded cartloads of women. I’ve heard the stories. Why is this any different?”
Gavan sighed. “Because I’m in love with you, Hannah. It makes it different.”
Her irritation drained out immediately. She expected it to be replaced by the anxiety she felt when he first mentioned a marriage in truth, but it didn’t come. That didn’t stop her from wishing she could change it.
“Are you certain?” She knew the answer. She felt loved, even if he hadn’t said it.
“Fairly. I just jumped in front of a bullet for you, and the idea of living without you makes me feel a bit like I can’t breathe.”
“Have you tried not to?”
“Breathe?”
“Love me. Don’t be an ass.”
He chuckled and then winced. “I like being in love with you. I can’t say it’s made me happy, necessarily. Getting shot is extremely uncomfortable, and you refuse to spend the rest of your life with me, which is very irritating.”
“I—”
He wasn’t finished yet. “I feel more whole than I ever have. I suspect it’s rather how you feel about your freedom. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, and I don’t want to give it up.”
Hannah’s defenses were made for Gavan’s grand gestures and marriage proposals. This simple declaration of love, coupled with the proof that he understood her, slipped straight past them.
“Gods. How did we get in this mess?”
“You started a town house renovation during extremely unneighborly hours.”
* * *
Not too long after, Hannah left Gavan in the care of his valet with instructions to rest. There was a great deal of work to do if she was going to start fixing this family. Since she couldn’t presently do anything to fix the situation between herself and Rhone, she intended to begin on the rest straightaway. When she stepped into the hallway to get started, however, Angus was bickering heatedly with another elderly gentleman.
“Good, yer here. Lass, tell this lazy braggart that the laird asked me to look after ye,” Angus demanded.
The other man poked him in the chest. “She doesnae need to tell me, because I dinnae care. Wee Ewan asked me to see to her, and that’s what I’m goin’ to do.”
“Wee Ewan isnae the laird,” Angus said, returning the gesture.
“Could have fooled me. He’s the one been givin’ the orders since Seamus died.”
“Gentlemen,” Hannah interrupted. “Is there any way I can convince you that I don’t need looking after?”
“Nae a chance, lass,” Angus said.
“No, m’lady,” the other man said at the same time.
“So be it, then. Introduce yourself, and let’s be on our way.”
Her new bodyguard dropped a rickety bow. “They call me Auld Ian, m’lady.”
“Is there also a young Ian?” she asked, amused.
Auld Ian nodded sagely. “Aye, and a wee Ian, a tall Ian, and a quiet Ian.”
“Fascinating. Well, Old Ian, do you know where I can find Gavan’s sister, Fiona?”
The two men exchanged looks.
“What do ye mean to do with her?” Angus asked.
“I dinnae think she meant to kill anyone,” Auld Ian said politically.
Hannah sighed. “I do not intend her any harm, but she did point a gun at me and then shoot my fiancé. If nothing else, it warrants a discussion.”
The men considered this.
“I also happen to be worried about her.”
Angus came to a decision first. “She’s had a bit of a shock. Like as nae, she’ll be at the graves.”
“Can you show me?” Hannah asked.
The two men led her out of the west wing where Gavan’s rooms were, down the grand staircase, and through the ground floor of the house, bickering nonstop. They argued about the fastest route to the graveyard. They argued about each other’s age and infirmity, each attempting to invalidate his rival for guard duty. Hannah suspected they would argue the color of the sky, if they ran out of topics. Long before that happened, though, they settled on her.
“It’s a damned relief, it is, to know ye’ll be the next countess,” Auld Ian directed back at her.
“Oh?” It didn’t seem like the time to correct them.
“Aye,” Auld Ian said. “We were worried, what with the Dalreoch going all Anglish on us, that he’d get himself the wrong sort of wife.”
“Ye were worried. I always knew he’d come out all right,” Angus disagreed.
“Bollocks. Just today, ye were half off yer gob about him coming back with an Anglish bride.”
Angus elbowed Auld Ian, with a glance in her direction. “’Twas before I knew ye, lass. I can see now yer a proper sort.”
“Aye. Wee Ewan told me ye were almost taken twice, but ye busted one in the gob, and stabbed the other straight in the sweet spot,” Auld Ian said with appreciation. “Proper job, lass.”
“She’d have done well in the auld days,” Angus said.
Auld Ian explained. “Used to be, when a man wanted to marry, he had to go off and steal a wife. Ye knew she was sweet on ye if she let ye live.”
“The laird dinnae seem to be shaping up to much from what we’d heard,” Angus admitted. “But he’s got himself a fine woman, and ye havenae killed him yet. He must have come out all right.”
“It’s the blood,” Auld Ian declared.
“Aye,” Angus said, finally in agreement. “The Dalreoch blood runs strong.”
This assessment of her suitability as a wife had taken them out of the castle and up a hill dotted with trees. At the top was a graveyard, and Hannah could see across the stretch of land to the ocean, lit up orange with the setting sun.
Gavan’s sister was sitting between two newer graves, pulling up strands of grass. It was clear she had been crying, and Hannah’s heart lurched in sympathy. How many times had she sat next to her mother’s grave, unburdening her troubles to a headstone? At the noise of their approach, the girl looked up. Her eyes widened at the sight of Hannah.
“Have ye come to take me, then?” she asked, looking from Angus to Auld Ian.
Angus answered. “Dinnae be daft, lass. We wouldnae bring an Anglish if we meant to haul ye in.”
“Did Ewan send ye?”
“No one sent me.” Hannah asked, “May I sit with you?”
Fiona continued to look like a startled deer, but she nodded and made room between the headstones, leaving plenty of space between herself and Hannah.
Unsure where to start, Hannah decided to begin with the obvious. “Did you mean to shoot him?
”
The girl’s shoulders hunched defensively. “I hadnae decided yet. The horse startled me.”
At least she was honest. “But you were considering it.”
“I thought—” Fiona picked at the cuff of the jacket. “If he were gone, I’d be the countess.”
Someday I’ll leave Suffolk and see the world. Someday I’ll get to make my own decisions. Someday, when my father is gone . . . Hannah knew those thoughts all too well.
“My mother was a countess. She did whatever she wanted,” the younger girl said quietly, like a secret.
Hannah realized Fiona had never met her mother. The previous Lady Rhone died giving birth to a daughter who would only ever know her through stories. She wanted to put her arms around Fiona, to tell her she knew how it felt, but she doubted the younger girl would welcome it. She decided to take them back to safer ground. “I’ve wanted to shoot Gavan once or twice,” Hannah said. “I did blacken his eye one time. It only made things worse, though.”
Fiona nodded. “It dinnae feel like I thought it would. I just felt sick after, and now everyone is angry with me.”
“I’m not,” Hannah said. “I don’t think you should go about pointing pistols at people, but I’m not angry with you.”
“Ewan’s angry. I dinnae ken how to fix it.” The girl hastily brushed away a tear with the sleeve of her coat.
“Are you willing to try?”
Fiona slid a sideways glance at Hannah and nodded.
“I’ll help you, if you let me.”
Fiona pulled another handful of grass from the hill. “My brother likes ye a lot.”
“He does.” More than he ought to, Hannah thought. “I like him, too.”
The younger girl twirled two strands together nervously. ”Would ye help him like me, too, mayhaps?”
“He likes you already.”
“No, he doesnae.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “He never came to see me. Nae even when I was a baby.”
Hannah felt the stab of empathy in her chest again. “That’s because your brother is an idiot, not because he doesn’t like you.”
Fiona smiled, wiping her nose with the grimy coat sleeve.
“Will you come with me and see what we can do about putting some of this right?”
A Convenient Engagement Page 22