“Faith,” Dair said, “Scotland’s finest warriors and statesmen have been trying to do just that for generations. Once the English infest they’re damned difficult to evict.”
Difficult? Ram closed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the walls. More like impossible. He’d damned sure not send her back to Jack the Jackass but how could he keep her here and keep faith with Flora?
Rose was as impossible to resist as she was to evict.
CHAPTER NINE
Rose still felt numb late the next morn, sitting in the wagon driven by Neddie. She’d felt that way since Laird MacKenzie stood at dinner to summon Ram and Flora and announce an end to any “bloody competition” and to confirm “the union of Clans Sutherland and MacKenzie by the engagement of Laird Ramsay Sutherland and Lady Flora MacKenzie. The wedding will occur a couple of weeks after our return from the games. Messages will go out, and of course, you’re all invited.”
Rose expected that Laird MacKenzie meant everyone minus one.
Her shock was worse because she spent the whole afternoon in a state she abhorred in members of her gender. Giddy. Yes, Rose spent yesterday giddy with excitement, warm with afterglow and tingling with anticipation of the tryst sure to follow dinner at her scheduled walk with Ram. She’d even descended to the depths of something else she hated–naivety. She’d actually expected that a marriage proposal would precede last eve’s anticipated tryst.
How could she be so profoundly stupid after surviving her brother’s destruction of their lives?
“Have ye noticed that every wagon, save this one, be crammed full?” Ned asked, speaking for the first time in over an hour. Up till now he’d respected her need for solitude, to mope and lick her wounds. But Neddie’s low tolerance level for whimpering had clearly been surpassed. Now, the glass-half-full Scot would insist on dragging up her spirits.
He could try. Rose couldn’t imagine the road back to tranquility, let alone happiness. She could only summon the strength to shrug in answer to his question.
That wasn’t good enough. Ned asked it again. “Lassie, now answer me. Have ye noticed that all the other wagons are full? Look around.”
When she just sat, limply, Ned jabbed her with his elbow. She sighed and commenced looking.
“Why, all the others are crammed with people, cargo, or sometimes both. In many of ‘em the passengers are in the wagon bed, getting pummeled by shifting goods and gear at every rut and turn.”
After a few moments, the task caught Rose’s interest, as she realized Neddie was right. “Why, ‘tis true.”
“As ever was,” Neddie said. He gestured, drawing her attention slightly ahead and to their left. “’Tis even so for Laird MacKenzie’s wagon where it appears Flora and her brothers are fighting and taking turns being banished to the back.”
“So what of it?” Rose asked.
“Our wagon contains only the two of us as passengers,” Ned observed. ‘And in the back be only our gear and your medical supplies. Oh, and pillows, blankets and plenty of room for ye to lie down and rest. The Laird were most particular about that.”
“Ram spoke to you about me?” Rose asked.
“Aye,” Ned replied. “He said to make sure you got your rest because he didn’t want the trip wearing ye down.”
“Did he say anything else?” Rose asked.
“We passed the time, was all,” Ned answered.
“Oh,” Rose replied, glancing back at the pillows and blanket. “I believe I will lie down for a bit. Will you wake me when we stop for luncheon?”
“Aye,” Ned answered, glad that the thought of rest distracted the lass. He wouldn’t have shared the rest of that conversation with the laird, but if he’d had to refuse to do that ‘twould’ve pricked her sharp interest. And Rose could stick to a subject like a porcupine once her interest got pricked.
That discussion with Laird Ram had been most, most enlightening. Early that morning, in the midst of the chaos of packing and loading, when everyone wanted to lodge some complaint or make some suggestion to the laird–he sought out Ned. Ram walked Ned over to a wagon pulled off to the side, away from the others and explained that ‘twas for Ned and Rose alone. He said he wanted to be sure the lass was comfortable.
Ned nearly swallowed his tongue to avoid laughing at that one, but his glee must have shown on his face anyway, because the laird turned defensive, claiming he was worried that members of the clan might turn ugly, re-living her defeat endlessly–cheering it, even. In the guise of trying to be helpful Ned suggested allowing certain of the lads to ride in the wagon. ‘Twould be company for Rose and it would help her practice flirting. Ned suggested that Rose would need good flirting skills for David, Hugh and some of the fine single lairds they’d soon encounter at the games.
Well, he might as well’ve asked Bonnie Prince Charlie to kiss the English King’s ring. No, the Prince would have reacted better. Ram’s basic response to the suggestion was that he wasn’t running a matchmaking service. Given the situation and present entanglement, that wasn’t even true, but it wasn’t just the blatant falsity of his response that attracted such notice. ‘Twas more that he shouted the response at the top of his lungs in a rant full of the most obscene curses Ned had ever heard–and he’d heard plenty.
Why, the words were so foul that Ned risked a limb by putting his hand on the laird’s shoulder. He pointed out the passing wives being tucked under their husband’s arms and entire families–in some cases, neighbors, friends or full grown warriors–rushing to cover the tender ears of all the bairns.
At the end of Ram’s rant, Ned bit back a grin as he nodded his agreement to his laird’s order to shoot any man under sixty–married or single–who came within arms’ length of Rose. Ram stalked off, stopping twice to turn back and ask, “You understand? Do you fucking understand?” Each time, Ned agreed, ‘Yes, Sir. I do, Sir.”
Something was mighty rotten in Denmark, that’s what Ned understood.
When they halted for the night at a lovely spot beside Loch Ortha, Ned understood something else. Trouble came to dinner–times two. First, Laird Sinclair arrived on his bay roan stallion at the head of his Clan. By the time that group dismounted and began unloading tents and supplies, Laird Rosses’ grey stallion led his Clan to the gathering. All the commotion made a god-awful racket, creating a need for organization which it took Ram far too long to notice.
Laird Ramsay had just snatched his arm out of Flora’s grip and sent her on her way with a snarling expression. It told everyone watching how thoroughly he’d rejected her–even before Flora gasped, clapped her hand to her mouth and ran off in grand fashion, designed to draw every eye. It worked, too–or, it almost worked. It drew no sympathy or regret from Ram because his attention was snared as he whirled away from his betrothed. ‘Twas snared by someone who didn’t set out a trap.
Rose spent most of the day curled up in the back of the wagon, lying down and pretending to rest or curled up in a ball and pretending not to cry. The lazy pace of travel left her with only her misery to dwell upon. But she fed on energy and she thrived in chaos, so she sat up on her knees to identify the first group of newcomers. When she spotted Hugh, ‘twas like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Hugh blew her a kiss and it made her giggle–a sound that startled her.
She could still laugh? Amazing.
Then Hugh turned around to look off in the distance and so did she, so both of them spotted David galloping ahead of his group. David nodded to Hugh and raised a hand to Ram, who didn’t notice. Ram was staring at the wagon David rode towards at a brisk trot. David reached the wagon and paused beside the beautiful blonde, tossing her a bouquet of wildflowers tied with Ross plaid. Rose accepted the flowers with blushing grace and blew David a kiss.
Three clan matrons and a couple of elders clustered around Ram, screaming at each other about some crisis fell completely silent as the laird’s voice rang out loud and clear.
“Son of a fucking whore!”
Ram barreled f
orward, shoving aside the elder who tried to block him. He arrived at Rose’s wagon just after David and Hugh dismounted and tossed the reins to their squires. Ram hissed at Rose. “What kind of spectacle are you trying to create? You’re supposed to be resting. If you’d just stay asleep, you’d keep out of trouble.”
“I’ve rested all day,” Rose replied. “And I didn’t even want to ride in a wagon. I wanted to ride a horse.”
“You don’t have a horse,” Ram said. “And those owned by the Clan were being ridden by the men! Ride a horse, she says. You’d be in constant peril on these trails trying to play the delicate lady on a side saddle.”
Rose’s rage froze her voice and dulled her faculties–it must have–for she answered, “As you very well know, I can ride astride.”
David and Hugh strolled up as Ram was scoffing at the notion of Rose riding during the trip. When he heard Rose’s rash statement, David elbowed Ram and said, “Enough.”
Ram gave David his best lord-of-the-manor look, sniffed and ignored him to continue the discussion he damned well knew he should walk away from. “As you well know, ‘twould be most improper. It would also be quite unsafe.”
“Unsafe?” Rose screeched. “How dare you imply –“
“I believe Ram fears that were you mounted, your admirers might stampede,” David suggested.
At that, Hugh cackled with glee and said, “Ram fears that he might stampede.”
“Hardly,” said Flora, who walked up to snare Ram’s arm in a gesture of possession as old as time. “Lads, you left early yesterday to return home to gather your clans, so you missed the big announcement at dinner last eve. Ramsay confirmed our betrothal. We shall wed shortly after we return from the games.”
For a long beat, and then two, the group fell silent. David and Hugh struggled to hide their astonishment but Ram had eyes only for Rose. He wanted to see her reaction, to confirm that it destroyed her as thoroughly as it had him. Save for a single motion that could have been a shrug or a shudder, she stayed silent and kept her eyes on her hands.
“Truly?” David asked, a grin crawling across his face.
“Aye,” Ram said, before he continued. “And my bloody betrothed best get her hands off me before I shake her halfway across the meadow to get them off.”
“Well now,” Hugh said, “that’s different.”
Flora didn’t mistake Ram’s threat as idle. She removed her arm but didn’t step away. Ram did that. David didn’t step away–he stepped closer, butting against the side of the wagon so that only the wood separated him from the lady still staring at her hands. Ram uttered a curse as David sprawled his arm along the side of the wagon to tap his hand until Rose looked up at him.
“I’m very, very glad to hear that,” David said. “Did you like my wee offering?”
“The flowers are beautiful,” Rose said. “Thank you very much.”
“I believe we must all tend to setting up our camps,” David said, indicating himself, Hugh and Ram. “Once that is done, I would love to introduce you to some of my folks. Would you like to dine with us this eve?”
“What need has she to acquaint herself with any Ross?” Ram challenged.
“One never knows,” David replied. “May I return for you in an hour or so, Rose?”
“No, you may not,” Ram said.
Rose ignored him. “I’d love that, David.”
“She would not love that, David,” Ram interjected. “She will be busy in an hour or so.”
Rose sighed. It hurt to speak to him, it really did, but she had no choice. “Pray tell, Laird Sinclair, with what shall I be busy?”
Pushed nearly beyond his limits and barely restraining the urge to punch David so hard that he’d not regain consciousness for hours, Ram answered, “Riding lessons.”
Sorrow and regret shaded her voice in near equal doses. “No, thank you. I’ve already had those.”
Into the vast void appeared Ram’s first, Conall. “Begging ye’re pardon, laird, but a few of the men have gotten into a wee dispute that I fear requires ye’re most immediate attention.”
Because he didn’t trust his voice not to break with his reply, Ram nodded and followed Conall. Flora lingered to give Rose a command. “Stay away from him, English, or you’ll wish you had.”
“Gladly,” Rose answered.
“That command is one ye should address to Ram, Flora,” Hugh suggested. “He seems to be the one seeking her out.”
Flora turned away in high dudgeon as Hugh excused himself. David paused long enough to hold out his hand until Rose held out her hand. David lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingers and saying, “I shall return soonest.”
“I look forward to it, David,” Rose said. He nodded and walked away while Rose watched him, proud that she almost meant it, but sad that ‘twas so mostly because she’d not have to see Ram with Flora.
******
A short while later Ram saw Rose slip back towards the secluded area where the ladies had been changing. He badly wanted to speak with her to explain the horde of excellent reasons why she shouldn’t join David–as soon as he could think of a few. He also needed to have a private word with her on another matter. ‘Twas urgent enough that he nodded and took two steps forward blindly, not looking because his imagination filled his eyes with visions of happening upon Rose changing.
Her creamy breasts might be bare, caressed only by moonlight until he bent down to them and – Damnation. He walked right into a cluster of young women with dreams in their eyes. Some he recognized from his clan, others must have wandered over from his friends or future in laws’ clan. The clusters happened often–wherever he, David or Hugh were and especially when they were together. They’d all developed a special ability to sense and avoid the loopy lasses. Now, he was so focused on one lass that the presence of others didn’t make an impact.
They closed in faster than warriors on a vengeance raid, employing weapons of batting lashes and come-hither smiles. A couple of the bolder lasses placed a hand on his arm. They were all talking at once–inconsequential things about the trip and the weather, speculating that he’d win every event at the games. Faith, he and the lads took the games seriously, as all Highlanders did. Winning was a point of pride that carried bragging rights for the year. They’d practiced countless hours for months.
The games didn’t seem near as important now that the rest of his life was on the line.
A loud voice broke through the throng. It belonged to the lass responsible for trapping him into a future he dreaded more each day. Flora, accompanied by her brothers, appeared to sweep away the interlopers. ‘Twas nearly enough to make Ram smile–nearly. Every female clustered around him, including the one to whom he was presently shackled, could be lying nude with their legs spread and he’d not notice.
But the tiniest motion from a short distance away attracted his eyes to Rose, who emerged from the woods to find David, damned David, waiting. His eyes followed them as long as he could see them, and remained fixed on the point where they disappeared from view. No matter how long he looked, she didn’t look back and when she disappeared, she didn’t return. Why would she?
There was nothing for her here except a man with everything to give who could offer her nothing.
A trio of hours later, Rose strolled back towards the Sutherland camp on the arm of a handsome auburn-haired man whose grey eyes twinkled the entire evening. David was respectful to the elders even when they were rude or asked intrusive questions–which seemed to be a way of life here. He was kind to the star-struck young ladies, sending them away kindly. Most of all, he was attentive, making overtures without being overt or demanding. Without raising his voice, he’d made certain that every member of his clan was kind to her, from the elders who despised the English, to the young ladies who must’ve wished her to Hades.
Why then did Rose wish she’d spent the evening watching Ram dance attendance on Flora? Because she was a quacking idiot, that’s why. Her utter idiocy was confirmed when
the handsome, charming laird paused at the outer edge of a stand of trees separating the Ross and Sutherland camps. The feeling writhing around her innards at the prospect of a kiss or two should be excitement rather than dread. And it was, she told herself. Absolutely. Positively.
Unfortunately, she really didn’t lie well.
David whispered her name as he tucked a finger under her chin to lift her mouth to meet his lips. Their lips met for the briefest of instants before she heard a rumbling growl at the same instant that David was jerked away with enough force to send him flying through the air. He should have landed flat on his back, but his warrior prowess had him straightening in mid-air to land in a crouching posture. He’d sprung to his feet before Ram threw the first punch.
David whirled to the side, raising his arm to deflect the blow intended for his face. It landed on his upper chest, its near killing force reduced to a mere hefty blow. David shouted a curse aimed at Ram’s mental state and Ram returned with one aimed at David’s family lineage. Whilst they traded insults they traded jabs and kicks. Then their words devolved into grunts and growls and their hands fluttered by their scabbards, touching, curving around the handle, but not drawing their blades–not yet.
Rose felt a hand at her shoulder. Hugh paused by her side to ask, “Are ye holding up? I can take ye to –“
“For the love of all ducks,” Rose said, “stop them, please.”
Hugh paused to look at her a moment longer, evaluating whether he should ignore her words, carry her off to where she couldn’t see Ram and David pummeling each other, with hands growing impatient for the feel of steel.
“Go!” Rose screamed.
After what felt like forever, Hugh went–but at a snail’s pace. Rose screamed at him to hurry–but no sound emerged from her throat. Ram and David no longer grappled. Now they faced each other in stark silence with hands curved around the hilts of the swords they were about to draw.
Hugh strolled over to stand aside from the combatants, chuckling all the way. Neither of the other two took that well, but Ram spoke first. “You find humor in David’s perfidy?”
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