The Highlander's Choice (Entangled Scandalous) (Marriage Mart Mayhem)

by Callie Hutton

  “Right after luncheon.” He reached out and patted her backside, raising a squeal as she hurried from the room. His laughter echoed behind her as she closed the door.

  …

  The sun broke through the thick layer of clouds that had been with them for days when she and Liam set out in his carriage to call on the villagers. She retied her bonnet securely under her chin as the wind picked up. She’d spent a great deal of time slathering her hands with cream, but still made sure they were snugly encased in gloves so Liam wouldn’t comment on their state.

  So there was no Lord Templeton coming for a visit that needed the room she’d been assigned to clean. While not necessarily surprised at that turn of events, she didn’t know whether to condemn or applaud the woman’s audacity. On the other hand, she could be tenacious herself, and at this point she was not going to let the witch win. If she decided not to accept Liam’s proposal it would not be because of Lady MacBride.

  While her thoughts were wandering, they’d passed a low, stone wall that surrounded the village proper. Liam took a turn into an opening and their carriage rolled onto what appeared to be a main street. Shops lined the area on each side and several women walked along the street, holding packages, some hanging onto small children. It looked no different than any village in England. In fact, her family’s country home, situated in Donridge Heath, had a small village almost identical to this one.

  Liam drove them into a well-sized stable and pulled up on the reins. The familiar smell of fresh hay and horses greeted her. Dust motes danced in the air from the sunlight streaming through the small window.

  “My laird, ’tis a fine day to be out and about, aye?” A stout man with a lengthy red beard wiped his hands on his pants and walked up to them, tugging on the brim of his cap. “Will ye be staying for a while, then?”

  “Aye, MacDermott. I’ll be showing our fine village to Lady Sybil.” He jumped from the carriage seat and handed off the reins to the man. In two strides he was around the vehicle and clasped her waist, lifting her down as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  “And ’tis a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Sybil.”

  “Thank you, Mr. MacDermott, It is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

  The stable man turned to Liam. “An English lass, aye, Laird?”

  “Aye, and a lovely one at that.”

  Decidedly uncomfortable with both men staring at her and grinning, she tossed her head. “Shall we take the tour, my laird?”

  Liam extended his arm, and she placed her hand there, whereupon he tugged her closer and tucked her arm all the way in, clasping her hand. “Dinna want ye to fall, lass.” He gave her a rakish wink.

  My, how the man can heat my blood with the slightest effort. Trying to distract herself from the warmth and enticing smell of leather and starched linen radiating from his body, she focused on the lovely village.

  “Oh, I thought we were going to the same village we visited from Dundas.”

  “Nay. This village is home to my clan,” he said as his arm swept the area.

  Tidy shops lined both sides of the street, again reminiscent of her village back home. As much as she’d enjoyed the Season each year in London, it was always with a sigh of relief that she had returned to the family manor in Donridge Heath. Her only source of regret had been the realization that another Season had passed without meeting her true love. She glanced sideways at the man at her side. Could it be because her true love had never attended a London Season?

  “At the end of the street there is a lovely book store. Perhaps you would like to make a visit?”

  “Yes. I would love that. Perhaps we can find a new book from Miss Austen to read in the evenings.”

  The light jingle of a bell announced their arrival. The shop was well stocked for a small village store. After also remarking on her English background, the owner struck up a lively conversation, revealing how his love of books stemmed from his father who had been a professor at Edinburg University. “Where ye attended, my laird.”

  Sybil cast a quick glance at Liam. “You attended Edinburg University?”

  “Aye. I studied mathematics. I’ve a love for numbers.”

  Another surprise. Although she wasn’t sure exactly why. Liam was obviously a very intelligent man, a far cry from her first impression of him. How unfair she’d been in her assessment of all Scotsmen. Any guilt she might have felt was quickly squelched, however, when she remembered how he’d first viewed her. They had certainly learned a lot.

  The shop owner was a pleasant man, eager to share his passion for the printed word. After a while, the discourse turned to stories about people she didn’t know. With Liam busy chatting, Sybil drifted away and perused the shelves, thrilled at the selection to be found in such a tiny village.

  Concentrating on the bounty in front of her, she jumped when Liam spoke. “Please excuse me, lass, for neglecting ye so.”

  “No need to apologize. I am enjoying myself immensely.” She pointed to a stack of books resting on a small table next to her. “Look at all the wonderful novels I found.”

  “’Twill be a pleasure to hear you read to me at night.” The twinkle in his eyes said something different than his words.

  Not wanting to have to fan her face again to keep the heat down, she quickly retrieved the books and headed to the counter. His soft laughter followed her down the aisle.

  Loaded down with her purchases—including Miss Austen’s new book—they left the shop.

  They strolled through the village, stopping to chat, and every person she met was pleasant and welcoming. It was truly too bad the one person whose regard she would like treated her like a pariah. The shops they entered were well appointed and managed by stocky, cheerful people. She was particularly taken with Mrs. Amish MacBride who sold lovely, soft Scottish woolen sweaters and scarves made by her and her five daughters.

  Before she could refuse, Liam had asked Mrs. MacBride to fashion a scarf and glove set for her. The sparkle in the woman’s eyes radiated approval of her laird and the lady he accompanied. Sybil felt the happiest she’d been since she’d arrived at Bedlay. Not everyone, apparently, held her in disdain.

  “I would love a cup of tea.” Sybil glanced up and down the street. “Is there an inn nearby?”

  “Aye. A fine inn where ye can have yer tea and I can get a cool drink a bit more to my liking.”

  “And what scandalous name does this inn have?”

  “Naught, darlin’. This one is verra nicely named The Drovers Inn.”

  “How interesting? Does that have a particular meaning?”

  “That it does, lass. ’Tis an old coaching inn from my great grandda’s time. ’Twas once used as a place to quench yer thirst by the Highland drovers who used to drive their cattle down the side of the mountains to the markets in the south.”

  “I am certainly getting my fill of Scottish history on this trip. There is so much I hadn’t known about Scotland. It is sad your rebellious uprising was squashed, and so many were driven from the land. But, on the other hand, every war has winners and losers. With England being the great country she is, we would naturally have more wins on our side.”

  He cast her a strange look. “Aye. I guess that would be yer feeling as a Sassenach.”

  His remark stung. After what they’d shared, he still thought of her as an outlander?

  The owners of the inn, another MacBride and his wife, greeted Liam as if he were a long lost son. One thing she had been impressed by all afternoon was the affection between Liam and his clansmen, and how free and easy their attitude was toward their laird. Apparently, there was nothing stiff or remote about how he handled his people.

  But there had been that Sassenach comment.

  …

  Liam was pleased at how well most of his clansmen received Sybil. Although all had remarked on her English lineage, only a few appeared perturbed that a Sassenach was in the company of their laird. He was confident he could sway them to his side. Sybil was a very
likeable person. So far, his mum was the only opponent to the lass. Her attitude was something he had to deal with. And verra soon.

  He’d tried very hard to ignore Sybil’s remark about the “great” country of England. Of course she would feel that way, having been raised with certain expectations. One of them being the idea that her country was always right. Hopefully, she wouldn’t say something similar in front of his mum, giving her more reason to criticize her.

  “Which of Miss Austen’s books will ye be reading to us?” Liam settled on the settee in front of the fire in the library. Once again, Catriona and Alanna faced each other over a chessboard and mum had retired right from the dining table.

  A kitchen helper carried in the tea tray, and Sybil rose to pour for them all. She looked so at home here and ready to take on the role of the laird’s wife. With her delicate hands—which had recovered somewhat from whatever it was that had ruined them—she poured tea and passed cups and small plates with slices of Mrs. MacDougal’s cherry cake and butter tarts. After settling next to him, she picked up a copy of Emma and began to read.

  Once again, Liam leaned his head back against the chair and allowed the melody of her voice to wash over him. Her tone rose and fell, using different voices for the characters. How he wished they were both in his massive bed upstairs—naked—as she read to him. He would entertain himself by caressing her soft skin and teasing her taut nipples until her words faltered. Then, when her skin flushed a bright red and her eyes grew dark, he would remove the book from her hand, place it on the table next to his bed, and make slow, sweet love to her.

  Soon he would press her for an answer. Certainly, she knew by now that what they shared was enough to build a happy marriage on. The lass had stated she would not marry for any reason except love. It didn’t take much convincing to admit he loved the lass. She was sweet, strong, loyal, and had charmed many of his clansmen. His sisters were quite fond of her, and already asked her advice as if she were an older sister.

  Then, as if a cloud passed over the sun leaving him chilled, an image of mum snarling “Sassenach” at his beloved soured him. He would speak with the woman soon. Either she would come to terms with his decision or face the consequences. Hopefully, she wouldn’t force his hand in the matter.

  After bringing his mum around to his way of thinking, he needed to convince Sybil that her place was here with him. A locked library door, providing them with much needed privacy once the lasses left for bed, would be just the thing. He smiled in anticipation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sybil lay sprawled on the carpet in front of the fire. Naked. As much as she had promised herself she would not allow a repeat of their prior scandalous behavior in the library, here she was trying desperately to remember where she’d placed her bones, because apparently they were missing, along with her clothing.

  “Lass, I would have yer answer,” Liam said.

  She moved her head to regard him, his large body flung out alongside her, a mellow look on his handsome face.

  “What answer?”

  Rolling to his side, he bent his elbow and propped his head on his hand, his deep green eyes riveted on her. “Ye know what answer I’m waiting for.”

  She smiled. “Oh, that one.”

  “Aye, that one.”

  How tempted she was to just throw her arms around his neck and shout “yes!” Her heart knew. Her body knew. But her brain stopped her cold in her tracks. And with good cause. There was a definite mean streak in Lady MacBride that, thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to pass onto any of her children. Liam and his two sisters were kind, thoughtful, and easy to be around. Simply put, his mother was not.

  She chewed her lip as she studied him. The face she’d grown to love, the body she’d discovered brought her pleasure beyond any of her imaginings. She could easily spend the rest of her life living here, loving him, bearing his children. If only.

  “I enjoyed meeting your people yesterday.” She paused and chose her words carefully. “I already love your sisters. They are sweet and wonderful young ladies.” Unable to continue, she looked off into the distance. How to tell a man his mother was a witch?

  Liam wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Ye are having thoughts about my mum.”

  Exhaling a deep breath, she said, “Yes. I think she not only disapproves of me, but actually dislikes me a great deal, and I honestly do not know why.”

  Releasing her hair, he rolled over onto this back and crossed his large hands over his chest. “Only because yer English. She has a dislike for the Sassenach.”

  “To her I’m a Sassenach, but to me she is a Scot. If I’m willing to overlook that, she should be able to do the same.”

  “Ach, the woman has a life-long dislike of the English.” He cast her a rueful glance. “And are ye overlooking that I’m a Scot, too?”

  She did not like the turn of the conversation. This could be very delicate ground they were treading. Disliking someone because of their actions was understandable. There were many frivolous members of the ton she disliked due to their behavior and reputation. But she’d done nothing to make Lady MacBride hate her so. To disdain an entire group of people merely because of where they’d been born made no sense whatsoever. After all, she was willing to put aside her ingrained suspicion of the Scottish, and how she’d always viewed the men.

  He cupped her chin and turned her head in his direction. “Ye would be marrying me, lass. Not my mum.”

  So easily said, yet so difficult to live with. Difficult enough that she was very reluctant to give Liam the answer he wanted. Marriage was forever. If she couldn’t win over Lady MacBride, her whole life could be one of misery. She had no trouble standing up to the woman, but was it fair to bring such strife and unhappiness to the entire household and Clan MacBride?

  Sybil sat up and began to gather her clothing. “I received a letter from my mother today. She is concerned that I have imposed upon your hospitality far too long.”

  “And did ye tell your mum that ye are not imposing since you will be mistress of Bedlay Castle one day soon?”

  “That hasn’t been decided yet. She reminded me in her letter that Marion’s time grows near, and she knows I want to be there for that.” She dropped her shift over her head and wrestled into the arms, then picking up her stays she turned her back to Liam. “Can you lace me, please?”

  He took them from her hands and started the lacing process, grumbling, “I prefer to be taking them off.”

  What she faced was a true conundrum. Perhaps when Margaret and her new husband came for the ball in their honor she might gain some insight and help from her friend. If nothing else, she would at least obtain a willing ear. She needed to make a decision about Liam’s proposal, and whether she truly wanted a life away from England, and among Scots, for the rest of her life.

  She was yanked back from her musing by Liam’s deep voice as it rumbled through her. “Yer thinking too much, lass.” He turned her body to face him. “There are only two people involved in yer decision.

  “I ken a marriage between us would be a good thing for you, me, and my clan. That is all that matters.” He kissed her gently on her forehead. “I want ye for my wife, Lady Sybil Lacey. And be warned, lass, I won’t give up until I have yer consent.”

  …

  Sybil waited anxiously on the steps of Bedlay Castle as the coach carrying Duncan and Margaret rolled to a stop. Liam stood alongside her, his hand on her elbow. “Relax, lass. I can feel you trembling.”

  She smiled brightly. “I am just so excited to see Margaret. It feels like many months since I’ve seen her, instead of merely one.”

  Duncan alighted from the carriage and turned to help his new wife. Margaret stepped down and immediately exclaimed, “Sybil!”

  Unable to hold her any longer, Liam released Sybil’s elbow as she hurried forward and embraced her friend. The women hugged and exclaimed over their separation. Duncan strode up to Liam and clasped his hand and gripped his shoulder. �
�The lasses behave as if they haven’t seen each other in months.”

  “Aye. Sybil’s been flustered all morn.” He chuckled to himself at her fussing since they’d risen from the breakfast table. Since his mum had excused herself, stating her intention to see to the last minute details of his sisters’ gowns, Sybil had stepped in as hostess. She had certainly been well-trained in the art of preparing for and receiving guests. Despite her excitement at seeing her friend once more, she’d inspected the newly cleaned guest bedchamber, discussed the menus with Mrs. MacDougal, arranged flowers throughout the downstairs, and still managed to look beautiful.

  “And how long do ye plan to keep the lass prisoner at Bedlay Castle?” Duncan smirked as they watched the ladies chattering like two magpies.

  Liam grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Till she answers a question I put to her.”

  Duncan’s brows rose. “And that would be?”

  Liam hesitated, then said, “I asked Lady Sybil to marry me once again.”

  Duncan slapped Liam on the back. “’Tis not a surpise. Ye said as much before ye left Dundas. I believe that was the purpose of bringing her here. To meet yer family and the Clan.”

  “Aye. And I hoped doing just that would convince her.”

  “Ye don’t sound as if the plan has worked.”

  Liam shook his head. “My mum has been outspoken about her dislike of the English. Sybil has been patient with her, but I ken that is what’s holding the lass back.”

  “Mayhap ’tis time to talk to yer mum. No offense, but she’s always been a bit sour, even with yer da.”

  Running his fingers through his hair, Liam nodded. “Aye. She does allow her tongue to run on too much. I’ve never stopped her before, but ’tis time to let her ken I’m her laird, and the choice is mine.”

  Arm-in-arm, Sybil and Margaret strolled to the castle door. ’Twas the happiest he’d seen her since she had arrived a month ago. She waved her hand in the air as she spoke, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. Liam’s gut tightened at the sight. The time had indeed come to take his mum to task and end this war she’d created.