How to Ensnare a Highlander (The MacGregor Lairds)

by McLean, Michelle

  “Och, of that I have nay doubt, my lady. It wouldna do to associate with any poor rabble who would be too far beneath ye, after all.”

  “That’s not at all what I meant,” she said, resisting the urge to kick him in the shin. “I simply find the company of some more tedious than others.”

  His laughter rang out, catching the attention of her mother whose eyes narrowed dangerously as she saw with whom Elizabet chatted.

  That laugh. Oh, Jack…you can’t hide from me…

  “I assure ye, my lady, I am anything but tedious. I will try my utmost to be as entertaining as possible.”

  He offered her his elbow. Taking it would be a mistake. Not taking it somehow felt worse. His smug smile decided it for her. The man had an uncanny knack for knowing the thoughts in her mind. She’d have to try harder to stay a few steps ahead of him. She took his arm, jutting her chin into the air at his amused surprise. A shiver ran through her at the glint in his eye that had nothing to do with being cold.

  They turned, and Elizabet caught her mother’s disapproving gaze again. She fought down the bubble of unease that threatened to erupt. They were doing nothing wrong. Harmless. Perfectly acceptable.

  Well, harmless might be a stretch. After all, her current predicament could most likely be blamed on the man before her. Both her savior and captor. Under circumstances that had cast a shadow upon her once perfect pedigree. And stolen her heart right along with her father’s gold. But she should be safe enough in the palace gardens with courtiers and servants wandering all about. Surely even he wouldn’t be so bold as to try anything nefarious with so many possible witnesses. More’s the pity. She missed his nefarious ways.

  And his company. Young, handsome, and charming, he made her body sing with a mere look. With fiercely intelligent eyes that appeared blue upon first inspection, but without the mask darkening their depths, subtle shades of green were apparent. The man beside her might be a scoundrel, but he made her heart pound with excitement. How many more chances would she have for private conversation with him? Not many. If any at all. So she’d make the most of this opportunity. And enjoy every second of it.

  For the price on his head had nothing to do with why her heart pounded so, no matter what lies she might tell herself. Many men had taken her hand, pressed their lips to her skin. Many were scoundrels, some downright criminal. Yet her heart had never soared in their company. Her blood would never heat at the merest brush of her intended husband’s hand against her skin. She would never stare at his lips, longing to feel them pressed against her own. In fact, she imagined she’d do quite a lot to avoid Fergus from touching her at all.

  “What are ye looking for so intently, my lady?” he asked, the sensation of his breath on her skin as he leaned down to talk to her sent a fine tremor through her.

  Why could she not be betrothed to a man such as this? One who would stir her interests and passions? Minus the slight detail of his outlawry, of course. And the small matter of his guilt, according to her father, in causing her family’s financial ruin. And, of course, his stubborn quest to see her father brought to justice for his supposed crimes.

  Why must she fall in love with the one man who should be her greatest enemy?

  She tried to ignore her traitorous body and glanced down, away from his penetrating eyes, shocked at the course of her thoughts. But the imminent announcement of her engagement meant she could no longer hide from it. Once the knowledge became public, she’d be trapped.

  He wanted to know what she sought?

  “An escape,” she whispered. And though she hadn’t meant him to hear, the sudden tightening of his hand upon hers told her he had.

  “From what?” he asked, his voice intent, almost fierce.

  Elizabet looked around. They were alone, protected by hedges on one side, the path winding through shrubs and fountains clear ahead of them. She let go of his arm and turned to face him.

  “From the nightmare of a future to which you’ve condemned me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  John stared at Elizabet, her words unleashing a torrent of unease and concern. “What do ye mean?” he asked. “What nightmare?”

  Her hand clenched around her fan until he thought she’d strike him with it. No more than he deserved, surely, for a variety of reasons.

  “According to my father, you and your merry band of bandits are the sole cause of our reduced fortunes. While I don’t quite believe you are the only cause, I can’t deny that you are at least partially to blame, as I was there when you accosted us. As for the other reasons, the smudge on my reputation…well, I am as much responsible and will not fault you for saving my life.”

  His eyebrows raised in surprise, but she paid him no mind and continued. “My reputation aside, with such a decline in our fortunes, no other gentleman has stepped forward to offer for my hand. Only Fergus Ramsay.”

  John shook his head. “My apologies, my lady, but I dinna ken what you may mean. If yer father finds himself out of coin, ’tis a pity to be sure, but I fail to understand how I am responsible. And surely ye underestimate your charms, my lady. I have no doubt there are several men who’d be only too happy to offer for your hand.”

  She let out a short laugh, though there was no amusement in the sound. “Once, perhaps. Before you stripped us of what little we had left. Now, there aren’t many titled men who are willing to take a woman with little dowry, a besmirched reputation, and nothing to offer but a family crippled under mounting debts. Mr. Ramsay is the only suitor to come forward. And with my family’s situation growing more dismal by the day, I have little choice but to accept him.”

  Guilt gnawed at John. He’d had no intention of shackling the lady with an unwanted husband, though he had serious doubts his role in the matter had made any difference. Fergus wanted the property that would become Elizabet’s upon her wedding. And her father wanted him to have it. Still, she wasn’t wrong. There were some who would shun her because of the slight hint of scandal. But for most, her beauty and prestigious family would be enough to overlook a multitude of sins.

  Her marriage to Fergus was set because her father wished it so, and for no other reason. His motives should be uppermost in John’s mind. Those motives were what had gotten his brother killed. What had sent many more innocents to their graves. Catching Dawsey and Fergus and bringing them to justice should be the only focus of John’s concentration.

  But something else now overshadowed his purpose. Because the thought of another man, especially that bastard Fergus, sharing Elizabet’s bed, filled him with a jealousy that burned hotter than anything he’d ever felt.

  And he had no right to feel it.

  Yet, the thought of Fergus being within a mile of her made John’s insides twist and shudder.

  “Well then, I suppose congratulations are in order,” he forced out.

  “It would be more appropriate to offer your condolences under the circumstances. Or better still, to offer reparation.”

  John snorted. She’d wear at him like a hound with a bone until he gave in. Dedicatedly persistent, he’d give her that. “I’m truly sorry if ye find yer circumstances not to yer liking. But I’m afraid ye have me at a disadvantage, my lady, when ye accuse me of being the one at fault. I dinna ken to what ye are referring.”

  “Oh come now, sir. No one is around to hear us. There’s no need to keep up the pretense.”

  His stood to his full height, pinning her with his fiercest gaze. She didn’t flinch, though her nostrils flared slightly and she sucked in a breath. But she didn’t back down. And he’d had grown men cower before him when he displayed his displeasure.

  He clasped his hands behind his back and did his best to keep his rising temper in check. He didn’t fear her. No matter what she thought she knew, she had no proof of anything. Still, rumors were ugly things that tended to spread. He couldn’t afford any whispers. She played a game without knowing the stakes. A dangerous game. One that endangered all for whom he cared. One he couldn’t,
wouldn’t, allow her to win.

  It had been a mistake to approach her. But he hadn’t been able to resist when he’d seen her there, glowing and beautiful like a dove among the crows. She had been beautiful, wet and bedraggled in the forest. Beautiful under the moonlight with a blade to his heart. Beautiful in the candlelight in his cottage. Breathtaking lying naked in his bed. Alluring as no woman he’d ever met before had been. Seeing her tonight had taken him by surprise. Her laughter had drawn him like a moth to a flame, and he’d crossed the room before he’d even thought it through.

  And now, it seemed, he would pay for his ill judgment.

  She stepped closer. “You know exactly to what I’m referring.”

  He leaned down, closing the distance between them. She still didn’t back down. Despite his anger, he couldn’t help but be impressed.

  “If ye’d like to accuse me of something, Lady Elizabet, ye’ll have to be more specific.”

  She took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing. “All right, then. If you insist on keeping up the charade, I’ll be specific. Jack.”

  That name on her lips again hit him like a fist to the stomach. He couldn’t hide his reaction, and she smiled.

  “Or should I call you the Highland Highwayman?”

  He stepped close enough she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact. “My name is John. And that is a verra serious accusation, madam.”

  “John,” she said, drawing it out like she was savoring the word. “Well, Jack is a common nickname for John, is it not? Not hard to see why you chose it. And it’s not an accusation. It’s a fact. You halted our carriage, you stole my family’s fortune.”

  “A fortune that didna belong to yer family. A fortune yer father stole first.”

  She ignored that and continued, her voice growing softer. “You took me away. Healed me. Protected me.”

  A smile spread across his lips, despite his best intentions. “I’m no’ saying I did, but if I had, would that be considered a crime?”

  “No. But your other activities most certainly are.”

  Oh yes, approaching her had been a mistake. If their time together had affected her even a fraction of how it did him, she’d have known him anywhere. He should have stayed as far from her as possible. Yet seeing her there, how could he?

  “And what makes ye think that I, a lord of the realm, would need to engage in such activities?”

  She shook her head and shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I have no idea why you would do such things. I know only that you do.”

  “And how do ye know?”

  She swallowed, her eyes fixed on his. “Your voice. You did well deepening your voice. But it’s the same. Your laugh. Your stature and bearing. But mostly…your eyes.”

  “My eyes?” he murmured.

  “Yes.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “You wore a mask. But your eyes…you can’t hide your eyes.”

  He had to clench his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. His initial anger and anxiety were still there but overshadowed by something he definitely shouldn’t be feeling for a woman who threatened everything he’d worked toward for the last several years.

  And he had no idea what to do about it.

  “I’m truly sorry, my lady, for whatever troubles yer family is experiencing. But those troubles didna stem from me.”

  Elizabet’s gazed burned into his. “Perhaps not. But they can certainly be ended by you.”

  John frowned, for once in his life well and truly stumped. “I’d be happy to offer ye my assistance if I may be of some service to ye. Though I dinna see how I might help in this instance.”

  “It’s very simple, sir. Your actions have forced upon me a union I loathe.”

  “So ye have said.”

  “I require a husband. A wealthy one.”

  “Who, ye have told me repeatedly, ye have found.”

  “Marriage to Mr. Ramsay is…” A fine shudder ran through her, and John steeled himself against the urge to do the same, and against the now familiar twinge of guilt where she was concerned.

  “I’m sorry ye find a good match with a wealthy man, who will no doubt leave ye a very wealthy widow in the near future, so distasteful.”

  He’d be only too happy to ensure her widowhood seconds after the ceremony, but he didn’t mention that to her.

  “Spoken like a man who will never have to subject himself to the touch of someone he finds so distasteful. Marriage isn’t so simple for a woman.”

  A sudden image of Fergus laying his hands on the unique beauty before him filled John with a nauseating anger. He tried to shove the feeling away. “I still fail to see how it has anything to do with me.”

  “Don’t be so coy, Jack. Your coffers are deep enough to keep my family from ruin, I’m sure. And you are handsome enough, I suppose.”

  “Merely handsome enough?” he asked, ignoring the comment about his wealth. And her use of his nickname. He knew his wealth, which wasn’t nearly as great as she assumed, had nothing to do with the way she reacted to him. But marrying her would be dangerous. For both of them.

  Her cheeks flushed, the heated blood of her embarrassment staining her delicate porcelain skin.

  “I…didn’t—wouldn’t—shudder at your touch, I think,” she said, unable to meet his gaze for the first time since she’d met him.

  He brought up his hand and trailed his finger along her cheek and down the slender column of her neck. He drew her to him, his hand firm on her waist. He leaned down to whisper in her ear while she trembled in his arms.

  “Oh, ye’d shudder for me, my little hellcat. But it wouldna be because ye found my touch unpleasant, that I promise ye.”

  His hand cupped her cheek, and he dragged his thumb along her bottom lip. Her mouth opened in a tiny gasp, and John released her, stepping back before he forgot everything and reminded her exactly how she enjoyed being in his arms.

  She blinked up at him, confused. Wanting.

  “Perhaps we should return,” he said, straightening the lace at his cuffs to give his hands something to do so he didn’t reach for her again.

  Elizabet’s jaw snapped shut, and that pert little chin of hers jutted back into the air. “Battle-ready,” was the word that came to mind when she affected that pose. Whatever she was about to say was something he was sure to hate.

  “I propose a deal, sir,” she said.

  “I’m no’ interested in making any deals with ye, my lady.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t heard my terms yet.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Because I have nay wish to be involved with ye in any way.”

  She flinched slightly, and John regretted the necessity of his harshness. His lies. But if wounding her pride would make her rethink the folly about to be unleashed, so be it.

  “Oh, I think you might change your mind,” she persisted.

  “I doubt it.”

  “It’s very simple, sir. You are responsible for the predicament in which I now find myself, so you will get me out of it. I require a wealthy husband, and I would have him be of my choosing.”

  For the first time in his life, John drew a complete and utter blank. He’d expected some sort of blackmail from her, yes. A demand for money. What he’d stolen from her family. At least enough to provide a dowry, perhaps. But marriage? To him? His mind spun. Even more so because the suggestion appealed to him. Much, much more than it should.

  “And you would choose me? Why ever for? If, as ye suggest, I’m responsible for yer current plight, why would ye want to shackle yerself to me for the rest of yer life?”

  Elizabet sighed. She retained the stubborn set of her chin but a great deal of the fight went out of her. “I don’t need to explain all my reasons to you. Call it retribution, revenge even.”

  “Desire?” he said, not sure why he couldn’t resist taunting her.

  She pressed her lips together, pinning him with a look that would have worked excellently coming from his old governess. “One wo
rd works as well as another. I am out of time. My engagement to Mr. Ramsay will be announced in the coming week. But you, as a great friend of the king, can surely obtain his blessing on our union.”

  “Possibly. If I had any wish to do so, which I do not.”

  “Oh, I think you do.”

  “And why is that?” he said, his voice low, dangerous. He already knew what she was going to say, but he couldn’t quite make himself believe she’d really say it.

  “It’s simple. You will speak to the king and announce our engagement, tonight if at all possible, or I will go to the king myself and tell him how you spend your nights. And I’ll be sure to do so before as many witnesses as I can muster.”

  John froze. “Ye wouldna dare.”

  “I’m desperate, my lord. I’d do much worse.”

  “Ye have no proof.”

  “I don’t need any. Even if I’m wrong, and I’m not, the suggestion alone could be enough to ruin you. And I can be very convincing.”

  Dozens of responses flew through John’s mind, and he rejected them one after the other. She was quite correct. There were already rumors floating around court about the true identity of the Highland Highwayman. The mere fact of John’s Scottish parentage was enough to turn a few eyes his way. A sworn testimony from a lady in Elizabet’s position would finish him, whether she told the truth or not.

  He’d considered many possible outcomes to his nocturnal activities. Arrest. Imprisonment. Disgrace. Death. Somehow matrimony had never made the list.

  Until now.

  She had him right where she wanted him. And she knew it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elizabet forced herself to hold his gaze. Not the easiest thing to do when he looked as though he’d rather throttle her than speak to her. She couldn’t fault him for that. After all, she had blackmailed him into marriage. Well, almost. She wouldn’t rest easy until their plans were made public. Another glance at her soon-to-be husband and she amended that thought. She’d probably never rest easy again.

  But once they were wed, she’d be able to help her family. Maybe she could even get her father to cease his criminal activities. And she wouldn’t have to spend her nights being groped by that terrifying monster of a man. The mere thought turned her stomach. Instead, she would probably spend her nights alone. Surely Jack—John—would have no desire to have a true marriage with a woman who blackmailed him.