Broden spared him a hasty glance.
Precisely what was he guarding against?
The new arrivals?
“Ye dinna ken who they are, Narcissa?”
She shot him a look of sheer astonishment, very much as if he were a drooling imbecile. “As I didn’t answer the door, and am unacquainted with any Scots, save you and your four associates, how could I possibly know, my lord?”
She adamantly refused to address him by his given name. He assumed it wasn’t as much out of deference as her dislike of all things Scottish.
“I shan’t have my daughters upset by your ill-mannered acquaintances. I heard the shouting from my sitting room, and—”
The study door burst open with such force, the panel slammed into the bookshelf behind the door with a startling thud.
Liam, Kendra, Graeme and Camden Kennedy, Logan Rutherford, and Coburn Wallace surged into the somber chamber. Disheveled, covered in travel grime, and the men all sporting beard stubble, they appeared exhausted.
And apprehensive.
A startled yelp sounding rather like a giant rodent escaped Narcissa, and she stumbled backward, holding a hand to her throat. Cutting Broden a panicked side-eyed glance, she swallowed convulsively.
“Why are these heathen Scots here? What do they want with us? Oh, Lord, they’ll slay us all,” she fairly squeaked, her face blanching. “Broden, you’ve already been shot by some blackguard. Have you no care for your wards’ or my wellbeing?”
“They’ll no’ harm ye or the lasses,” he growled, his patience spent.
As one, the new arrivals’ gazes took in the countess. Equally of interest, as one, their countenances snapped closed, much like shutters secured before a pending storm.
What in God’s holy name was Camden doing with them? And why had so many arrived at once? Their very numbers bespoke ominous news, perhaps even a threat of danger.
To whom?
His wards?
Kendra?
At once, Broden was tense and alert. “What’s happened?”
Kendra rushed forward, snowflakes still covering her cloak, her boots leaving wet tracks on the plush carpet. She pushed her hood down, exposing reddened cheeks, and wide, worried dove-gray eyes.
She was breathtaking, and he feasted his ravenous gaze upon her, longing to ensnare her in his embrace and plunder her sweet mouth. His focus dropped to those tantalizing lips, and the tiniest smile twitched at the corners.
Ah, she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“We need to speak with ye.” She turned a gimlet eye on Narcissa. “Alone.”
He’d never seen Kendra behave in this manner. So coldly and rudely to someone she’d not been introduced to. Well, he’d been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue and blistering glares, but they had a history together.
She was in a high fettle, and none of his friends denied her assertion.
Something was drastically wrong.
Narcissa drew herself up, giving Kendra a scathing assessment from head to toe, undoubtedly finding her wanting from her haughty, pinched expression.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Apparently, she’d decided the newcomers weren’t going to slit her throat or raze the house. “How dare you traipse into my home with your muddy boots, dripping snow all over my floors, and rudely dismiss me?” She turned her wrathful gaze upon Broden. “Broden, are you going to permit this inexcusable insult by this riffraff?”
Kendra didn’t back down. If anything, she set her delicate jaw firmer, steely resolve in her unrelenting gaze. “Lady Montforth, I presume?” she queried, her tone as frosty as the outdoors, as she removed her gloves.
Narcissa condescended to lower her chin a fraction in acknowledgment though her nostrils flared as if she smelled fresh manure or offal.
Until now, she’d kept this side of her personality subdued.
Broden’s already low opinion of her plummeted further.
He’d believed her vain, pampered, and cosseted, a woman accustomed to having her way, and one who appreciated and lauded her elevated status. But this haughty termagant had the audacity to look down her nose at the woman he loved.
Narcissa had best have a care.
Insult Kendra, and there would be consequences.
Eyebrow raised, Kendra, in turn, took Lady Montforth’s measure.
Though her expression remained impassive, contempt darkened her eyes to the color of the sky before a tempest. “We’ve ridden for two days straight in that hellish weather outside, bringin’ news of utmost import to Broden. News that is confidential and urgent. So ye’ll excuse us for no’ mincin’ words or wastin’ time with niceties.”
One of the men concealed a bark of laughter with a strangled cough. Likely Wallace.
“You dare address Lord Montforth by his given name?” Narcissa demanded, all outraged self-righteousness. “Your impertinence is beyond galling. Know your place, impudent chit.”
“As I’ve kent Broden since I was a wee lass, I’ll continue to address him as such.” Kendra didn’t flinch under the countess’s snide disapproval. “Now, if ye’ll excuse us? We’ve urgent matters to discuss.”
Narcissa turned a frigid eye upon the new arrivals before defiantly jutting her pointed chin upward. “I’m not leaving unless Lord Montforth directs me to.”
Kendra’s eyebrows shied higher, and her mouth went tight when Narcissa sidled closer to Broden and placed her hand on his forearm, almost possessively.
What was this?
She’d never touched him before.
In fact, she avoided him whenever possible.
Directing a pointed look at Narcissa’s hand, Kendra brought what Broden knew to be a carefully bland gaze to his. Her eyes fairly shouted for him to explain.
His eyebrows practically touching, his attention shifted between the women.
“Narcissa, please ask Morris to see to refreshments for everyone. And plenty of them.” If they’d ridden as hard as Kendra vowed they had, they were undoubtedly famished. “Hot tea for Miss MacKay, and somethin’ more substantial for the gentlemen.”
Jaw slack, Narcissa blinked several times before she snapped her mouth closed with an audible click and narrowed her eyes to furious slits. “Are you dismissing me in my own home when I outrank these…” She fluttered her hand contemptuously at Kendra and the men as she searched for an appropriate word. “People?”
She made the word sound like a curse.
He’d dare that and much more, by God. How dare she insult his friends? His almost betrothed? Treat them like they were excrement on her dainty, very expensive, buckled shoe?
“Firstly,” ire made his tone razor-sharp, “ye have nae idea who they are. So ye havena any way of kentin’ if ye outrank them. Secondly, I dinna give a rats hairy arse about rank.”
“You…” She gasped, going pale and weakly clasping a hand to her bosom. “You are so uncouth as to swear in a lady’s presence?”
Now she became a wilting rose?
The Scotsmen, lined up inside the doorway like watchful sentinels, remained stonily silent, their flint-like gazes pinned on the rather wan-faced Lady Montforth.
Never one for female histrionics or dramatics, Kendra rolled her eyes as she unfastened her cloak. He had no doubt it took every bit of her considerable restraint not to tell Narcissa precisely what she thought of her. Which, he had no doubt, would assure a dramatic fit of the vapors.
“And I’ll remind ye, Lady Montforth—kindly, because yer station is as new to ye as mine is to me—I am the lord here,” he said. “My word is law, no’ yers. These are my friends, and ye will treat them with the same respect and regard ye would any of yer pompous and illustrious acquaintances. Is that understood?”
For several moments, he believed she might refuse. A battle raged full-on in her defiant gaze. Finally, lips pursed tight as a goose’s back end, she gave a stiff nod. “Am I to understand you expect me to entertain—her?”
Struggling to wrestle her
scorn under control, she turned her pale blue eyes on Kendra.
“Miss Kendra MacKay,” Broden said. “Sister to Liam MacKay, Baron Penderhaven.” He motioned to Liam. “Beside him is Laird Graeme Kennedy, and his brother Camden Kennedy.”
They nodded, stern, unenthusiastic greetings.
“Those two gentlemen,” he indicated Logan and Coburn, “are Laird Logan Rutherford and his cousin Coburn Wallace.”
Though not of the English peerage, each of the Scots held elevated positions by virtue of their births, as well. Not that he expected Narcissa to be aware or revere them as was their due.
“Nae, ye needna entertain me, my lady,” Kendra said, draping her cloak over a nearby chair. She wore a simple burgundy riding habit, the color a perfect complement to her tousled rich, molasses-colored hair and wind-ripened lips.
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed again, and she cinched her mouth impossibly tighter into a terse, disapproving line.
“She’s not at all suitable, my lord.” She shook her intricately coiffed, white-blonde head, something akin to malice creeping into her refined voice. “No, no, I say, she’ll never do. Most unfitting.”
Broden’s fury swelled and crested like violent, surging waves blown ashore during a hurricane. “Enough,” he warned in a low, I’ve-had-enough-of-your-shite tone.
“What can you be thinking?” Narcissa prattled on, either unaware of the storm brewing, or uncaring. “You have a position to uphold. There are certain expectations of a peer. Strictures and protocols that must be observed. Surely, Broden, you must understand how very unsuitable such a creature is.”
Creature? By God and all the saints, he’d banish her to a cottage in the Outer Hebrides.
She flicked a contemptuous glance at Kendra.
Shoulders squared, her head raised in defiance, she unflinchingly met Narcissa’s spiteful glare. A beautiful warrior ready to take on her foe.
Pride nudged aside a portion of Broden’s wrath—a very small portion.
“For heaven’s sake,” Narcissa blathered on as if she believed any of them cared a whit about her odious, biased opinions. “She admitted to traveling with four men without the benefit of a female companion. Some would suggest…”
Harsh inhalations and Broden’s low, threatening growl met the insinuation. He swung a quelling look at her as the others stiffened in affront at her vulgar innuendo.
“Make her your mistress, if you must, my lord. But most assuredly, she cannot become your countess.” She finished, smug and confident she’d succeeded in squashing Kendra beneath her expensive silk shoe.
“My lady,” Liam started, fire in his eyes, but Kendra held up her hand.
“She is standin’ right here, and can hear every insultin’ word ye are spoutin’.” She folded her arms and took the countess’s measure again, this time slowly, deliberately, and contemptuously. “It seems to me there’s a lot more to bein’ a lady of quality and refinement than who one’s father and mother might’ve been.”
Narcissa stepped forward, her hands half-curled into fists. “He’ll never marry you,” She spat, stomping her foot. Actually stomping in the same petulant manner three-year-old Dianella had yesterday when denied a fourth biscuit. “I shall not permit it. A Scottish strumpet the next Countess of Montforth? Never!”
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is she blatherin’ about?” That came from Graeme Kennedy.
Camden whistled, and Logan and Wallace traded bewildered looks.
Liam strode forward and put a protective arm around Kendra’s shoulders. “Consider yer words carefully, madam. I’ll no’ stand by and allow ye to insult my sister.”
Kendra sent him a grateful smile.
How she itched to slap the arrogant harpy’s face. She’d all but implied Kendra was a whore. She refused to give Lady Montforth the satisfaction of seeing how much the cruel woman’s cutting words had wounded and humiliated her.
She wasn’t surprised by her ladyship’s venom, given what Camden had learned about Lady Narcissa. Her pretty outward trappings concealed an evil heart and a blacker soul. She was the devil’s handmaiden if there ever was one.
Her poor daughters.
What would become of the unfortunate dears with a mother like that? It was profound good fortune that Broden was now their legal guardian.
“My choice of a countess, my lady,” Broden gritted out through clenched teeth, “is absolutely none of yer business, and ye’ll have nae say in the matter. Ye would be wise to retire to yer chamber and remain there until I summon ye.”
Kendra wanted to launch herself into his arms. Not only because he defended her so vehemently, but because she’d missed him dreadfully. And now that he stood but a few feet away, she longed to kiss him. To tell him how much she realized she loved him while he was gone.
For she did love him. Absolutely and profoundly. Unconditionally and irrevocably.
Now that she had admitted it to herself, it had become glaringly obvious that she had for some time. How she’d missed the signs, she couldn’t venture to guess. But her focus had ever been on Broden’s flaws, and not his numerous exemplary qualities.
She couldn’t prevent the small—fine, perhaps not so very small—satisfied smile she directed toward the countess.
Broden strode to the bell pull and gave the dark green and gold braided silk cord a firm tug. Not more than three seconds after Broden summoned him, the butler entered. Probably lurking in the corridor eavesdropping as any butler worth his salt was wont to do.
“Yes, my lord?” He didn’t so much as slide a furtive glance toward the brawny Scots or his highly agitated mistress.
“My friends are hungry and thirsty after their long journey,” Broden said. “Please ask Cook to prepare refreshments for them, as well as tea for Miss MacKay and ale for the men.”
“I took it upon myself to ask Mrs. Wilson to assemble a hardy repast upon their arrival, sir.” Morris angled his head. “I believe it is nearly prepared.”
“How dare you, Morris? You overstep your authority. Do you not value your position at all?” The countess all but hissed, “I should dismiss you without a reference right this moment. I am still the mistress here, am I not?”
Not for much longer, Kendra would wager.
Despite Lady Montforth’s tirade, Morris’s countenance remained impassive, and he never missed a blink. “The food will be ready shortly, my lord. Shall I also have chambers prepared for our honored guests?”
Morris still hadn’t made eye contact with the seething woman. One might gather he didn’t hold her in high esteem, nor did he feel obligated to cede to her wishes. That he directed his requests to Broden said much about his opinion of the countess.
Kendra liked the man.
He was a good judge of character.
“No, of course you shall not. Of all the absurd suggestions. They won’t be staying, you insolent, presumptuous beef wit.” Lady Montforth all but frothed in her agitation. “I cannot have such uncouth company beneath the same roof as my darlings.”
Her darlings she only ventured to see once a fortnight?
“Ye may go, Morris.” Broden offered an apologetic smile. “And thank ye for yer thoughtfulness. Please do have the chambers prepared.”
An agitated, most unladylike noise very near a growl echoed from the Lady Montforth’s direction.
With a half bow and the veriest raising of his noble brow toward the sulking countess, the butler departed the study.
No sooner had the door closed behind him then Broden turned on her.
“Once again, I’ll remind ye, Narcissa, that I pay the wages of every staff member in this household. Morris is accountable to me, and ye owe him an apology for yer uncalled-for rudeness. However, it will have to wait, as I’ve exhausted my reserve of patience where ye are concerned. Ye’ve also exhausted yer welcome in this household.”
Lady Montforth’s bravado slipped a notch, and she licked her lower lip. “Perhaps I was a bit overly—”
If her ladyship knew Broden at all, she’d understand he was at the end of his tether, and barely keeping his fury under control.
With a lofty tilt of her chin, she swept to the door and pulled her skirts aside as if the Scots might soil her gown if her hem brushed their legs.
Liam angled his head toward Logan. “Follow her and make sure she disna leave her chamber. Also, check every single item that goes in and out of her chamber, and nae one, no’ even her daughters, are to enter her rooms.”
“Aye.” Logan gave a terse nod before departing the study.
“The rest of ye monitor the entrances,” Liam ordered. “Camden, ye can fill Bryston in on the way.”
They, too, left at once.
“What was that all about?” Broden asked. “I’ll warrant Lady Montforth was discourteous beyond measure, but ye needna treat her like a prisoner. And why do the entrances need watchin’? I assure ye, there are far more than four ways in and out of this house.”
“We’ve more men outside, guardin’ the perimeter.” Liam traveled to the window and unceremoniously shoved the curtain aside.
Kendra touched Broden’s arm. “Broden, we have reason to believe she’s behind yer assassination attempt. That’s why we came here straightaway.”
He scowled and crossed his arms, resting his lean hips against the edge of the desk. “I presume ye’ve learned somethin’, and I’ll hear it soon enough.” His attention shifted to Kendra. “But why are ye here, Kendra? If there’s a threat, ye should’ve remained at Eytone Hall. ’Tis safer there.”
A hint of the old, defiant Kendra flared to life. She tamped down her temper. Worry and concern were behind his clipped words. Instead, she arched her eyebrows in a challenge. “Ye ken me better than that.”
Liam snorted and shook his head. “Ye try tellin’ my sister that drivel. I did, and she wasna havin’ any of it.” Affection and frustration gleamed in the look he bathed her with. “Ye ken, as well as I, how stubborn she can be. She threatened to journey here by herself. On horseback.”
To Enchant a Highland Earl Page 10