A Gypsy in Scotland (MacCallan Clan Book 1)

by Tanya Wilde

  “You lose nothing by granting me this one small thing,” she whispered.

  “But you do.”

  “What if I don’t care about what I lose?”

  “You know my brother wishes to see my head on a pike, and your brothers will accomplish the task if I take you from them.”

  “I could argue you are taking me to them . . .”

  “I will not have you embroiled in my troubles.”

  “We can outsmart your brother.”

  “And if we do?” Lash demanded. “You brothers are on their way back here. Where will you go once you reach Edinburgh? The city is no place for a woman alone.”

  “We have a townhouse. And you forget my brother is a duke. I have friends in the city.”

  “Friends that will abandon you once it comes to light you traveled with a Rom.”

  She swiped her hand through the air as if to wipe the comment aside. “It will not come to that.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know I will only have a precious few days in Edinburgh before my brothers catch up to me and rake me over the coals. But at least they will be forced to acknowledge that they can no longer sweep me aside.”

  “So this is more about proving a point and less about your painting?” Lash demanded.

  Guilt crossed her features, and he cursed.

  “It’s both,” she admitted.

  “Honoria . . .” He dragged a trembling hand through his hair.

  “Please, we shall be overly cautious.”

  “Even if my brother doesn’t find me—”

  “Us.”

  “—me,” he ground out. “There are still all sorts of dangers on the road, and if you are traveling with me, the biggest danger is me.” He took a step closer, looming over her. “I am your biggest threat.”

  “If you are worried that you will ravish me, Isla is joining us as well.”

  “Have you both gone mad?” he demanded. “You think your sister will shield you from my advances once I set my mind on ravishing you?”

  They faced each other, shoulders locked tight.

  “If you think to scare me off it will not work.”

  Lash gave a low and bitter laugh. “You should be terrified. My thoughts alone would leave you in ruin if ever voiced.”

  “You are not such a scoundrel.”

  “Then why is your dress askew, your hair falling from its pins and your lips swollen from my kisses?” Lash challenged. “I took your innocence in a tower against a wall; I am that much of a scoundrel.”

  “You did nothing I did not want.” Her eyes flashed. “Do not make yourself out to be something you are not because you do not wish to escort us to the city.”

  “I am stating a truth, that is all. You have given me a taste of you, monisha. I will ravish you over and over if given but a small chance.”

  “What if I feel the same?”

  “You don’t.” He took a step closer to her. “I will savor every drop of honey from your flesh, but I won’t give you what you desire, which—even if you don’t know this yet—is a husband. I can never give you that.”

  “Because I’m not a Rom?”

  “Because you are a lady.”

  Her gaze narrowed on him. “You are still just a man, Lash, regardless of your heritage.”

  “No.” He shortened the distance between them with another step. “I am the darkened night, and you are the rays of sun that chase me away.”

  “What if I don’t want to be the sun?” she asked. “What if I want to belong to the night as well?”

  “One day you will want to marry, your time with me will taint that possibility for you,” Lash reasoned. “Your sister will wish to marry as well. If you do not care for your reputation, consider hers.”

  “If that is to be my fate, so be it. Worse things have happened to better people. I refuse to wilt away in a castle.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Isla feels the same.”

  “If you married, your husband would accompany you to Edinburgh. Your future will not be ruined. Have you thought about that?”

  “You sound like my brother Adair.”

  “Do you think I want to deny you this?” He turned away from her, to the window, his gaze pulled to the clouds darkening the sky. “Some things are beyond my conscience, Honoria. Your request is one of those things.”

  “Please.”

  He shut his eyes against the stab of pain that one word evoked.

  “I will ask for nothing more.”

  He turned back to her, his gaze probing. “Do you truly not care that your entire life will be ruined—your prospects, your future, your reputation, your social standing, your place within society?”

  “Have you not been listening to me!” she exploded. “I. Don’t. Care.”

  Lash blinked.

  She marched up to him, eyes flashing with anger. “Tell me, what good is my life if I cannot live it?”

  He opened his mouth, but she did not give him a chance to respond.

  “Between my brothers, I am doomed if I stay, doomed if I go. I am tired of waiting as they break their word year after year. I am ready to be launched from the nest, on my terms. If I am cast out from the marriage mart, so be it.”

  Lash didn’t understand why she avoided the clear solution. “But a husband—”

  “Marriage is no solution,” she interrupted him. “Not when my fate rests in my husband’s hands. What if he, like my brothers, decides that Edinburgh is no place for me? That it is simply too much hassle to take me? What then?”

  Lash clenched his jaw shut.

  “Right now, my fate rests in my hands. My brothers be damned. My reputation be damned. My future prospects be damned. I will no longer be the princess locked away in a castle. I demand to have my life.”

  “Honoria—”

  “Will you take me or not?”

  It would be so easy to say yes. To take her, to make her happy, to have more time with her, all the repercussions be damned.

  To deny her twisted his gut into knots. But he could not drag her into the chaos that was his life—he could not ruin her future—no matter how much he may want to keep her at his side.

  There was Syeira and his brother to consider.

  There was her family to consider.

  Her future.

  At the moment, no one knew about their tryst. If he took her with him . . . that would be over. She’d be as much of an outcast as he was. And he did not wish that life on anyone.

  “I am sorry, Honoria, I cannot.”

  “Is protecting my future the only reason you refuse?” she asked. “Or do you think I’m a burden, as well, but wish to spare me my feelings?”

  “You are not the burden, monisha. I am. I’ve brought nothing but chaos into your life where you have only saved mine.”

  “Why can you not see this request as repayment for healing you?”

  “Think about your family, Honoria. If you were my sister—”

  “But I’m not.”

  “But if you were, I’d be worried beyond belief at finding you gone. I would kill any man who dared remove you from the safety of your home.”

  Lash watched as she smoothed her hands over her skirts, her eyes not quite meeting his. He lifted his hand to graze her cheek but paused midway, thinking better of it. Even if she did not care about her future, he cared about her life.

  “If something happened to you, monisha, I would never forgive myself.”

  She lifted her lashes to look at him then, her eyes filled with disheartenment and unshed tears. “What if I absolve you from any culpability?”

  “It’s still too dangerous. Danior—”

  “Will be much easier to defeat with my brain on your side.”

  “You cannot ask me to risk your life.”

  “It’s my life. Mine. To do with as I please.”

  “You are impossible to reason with,” he muttered with the shake of his head. “Place yourself in your family’s shoes. How will they feel when
they discover you and your sister have run off with a man you barely know—a man who has already been targeted once?”

  “We would not be running off with you, you’d be escorting us.”

  “Your brothers will fail to see the difference, as do I. And that does not answer the question.”

  He steeled himself against the flash of hurt that entered her eyes, but could not stop himself from reaching for her, wanting to comfort her. She recoiled from his advance.

  Lash flinched.

  “I thought you were different.” Sadness edged in her gaze. “But for all your talk about blood and kind, you are merely a man and every bit as stubborn and mulish as any other man in the world.”

  “Do you think I want to deny you this?”

  “Then why not grant my request?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  She laughed, humorless. “I shall be sure to engrave it’s complicated on your gravestone someday, as that seems to be your chosen mantra.”

  Pain and regret settled into his bones. But her anger was for the best. He was saving her like she had saved him, even if it was in a different way. She’d given him back his life; he was sparing her a lifetime of misery.

  Even without Danior attempting to end his life, even without Syeira needing to be found, Lash couldn’t give her the life she deserved. The sneers and disdain that forever followed him prevented that. The very notion squeezed his heart.

  “You are wrong,” she whispered, her voice faltering. “I am not the sun and you are not the night. We are just stars. We are all seeking a place in the sky where we can shine.”

  Then she left. And there was nothing but darkness in her wake.

  Chapter 17

  He had said nay.

  Resounding and final.

  Nay.

  Was that not a knife to the heart?

  Honoria felt sick to her stomach. Bile rose in her throat. Her heart was beating way too fast; she felt dizzy from lack of breath.

  She had known if Lash rejected her, it would sting. That was why she hadn’t declared she wanted him and him alone—full stop. But she hadn’t anticipated that he would decline to escort her to Edinburgh. And she certainly hadn’t expected her heart to crack open when he did.

  Why did all the men in her life insist on denying her simple wishes? Was it so hard to grant this one thing?

  Except she knew it wasn’t truly simple.

  Damn him for being right!

  A door opened and slammed shut in the distance. Honoria rushed down the steps and quickened her pace. She did not want Lash to follow her or see the sudden tears threatening to spill.

  Due to him, all she could think about was her brothers’ reaction upon discovering their wee sisters had run off to Edinburgh with Lash Ruthven—a Rom. They’d be furious, worried, and perhaps even devastated if they discovered them gone.

  Her brothers’ faces flitting through her mind. She pushed them aside. For once she hadn’t wanted to think about someone else, she had only wanted to think of herself.

  Lash had ruined that.

  Aye, she could admit the situation was a bit complicated—she was coming to loathe that word—but why did she always have to be left behind?

  After Ewan’s death, her brothers hadn’t tolerated anything that might cause her harm, which she had understood, then. And of course, they would never recover if something happened to her or Isla. But they could not keep her locked away in a castle any longer, either.

  She had thought Lash would be the one person to understand how she felt—this restless need inside her to go, to explore.

  Growing up with ten brothers had taught her to fight for what she wanted even if she failed each time. But now, with Lash, it felt different. All the fight had left her when he declined her request. It felt almost . . . over.

  Nay. Nay, it could not be over.

  What was over was her reliance on men. She was done offering up her dreams. Done having them crushed.

  Air. She needed air.

  Dashing through the halls and down more steps, she headed straight for the stables. It was imperative that she escaped the castle’s stifling stone walls right that minute.

  She’d go for a ride.

  Hugh’s rotten orders be damned. She would remain on their property; he would have to be content with that. She burst into the stables, drawing the eyes of Mr. Ross.

  Splendid.

  Just what she needed—a disapproving groom.

  “Please saddle Bach, Mr. Ross, I am going for a ride.”

  The groom’s eyes sharpened. “My lady, Lord Hugh gave orders no one is to leave the castle.”

  “I am not leaving the property, Mr. Ross. I merely wish to go for a ride within its boundaries.”

  “My lady—”

  “You can either saddle my horse, Mr. Ross, or I shall ride him bareback, either way, I am leaving atop a horse in two minutes.”

  “Very well, if you insist on riding, I shall accompany you.”

  “If you do that, Mr. Ross, do so from a distance.”

  Honoria did not wait for him to saddle his horse. Within minutes she was flying through the air, leaving behind a disgruntled groom and his string of curses.

  She laughed, the weight of all her troubles lifting as she urged Bach faster. With each passing second, her head became clearer.

  No man, or brother, would dictate her choice anymore. She would go to Edinburgh. They could come along or they could remain at MacCallan Castle. She was done fighting with them. She was done being denied by them. She was done being cast aside.

  She galloped Bach all along the edge of the property, her thoughts straying to the tower and the magic created there. The memory of them united seared in her skull. They had made a thousand promises with their bodies, but none of those promises would see the light of day.

  A chasm stretched between them, between the different worlds they came from, that he refused to cross, even if she’d happily leap it in a heartbeat. In the end, he was just a man. He didn’t believe her strong enough to be free. And that was heartbreaking.

  Honoria glanced up at the sky. By the estimation of the sun, she had been riding for about an hour, every so often glancing over her shoulder expecting to find Hugh and maybe even Lash in pursuit of her. By now they would have noted her absence. But she hadn’t even spotted Mr. Ross.

  Honoria sighed, spurring her horse and yanking on the reins to double back. She didn’t want to return to the castle, she wanted to keep on riding, but neither did she wish to worry Hugh and Isla.

  “At least you have never let me down, Bach,” Honoria murmured to her horse, leaning over to pat his neck. “No matter what happens, I have you.”

  Bach snorted and began to dance in discomfort.

  Honoria’s brows drew together, fingers tightening on the reins. “What’s wrong, Bach? Do you sense something?”

  At first, she heard nothing, only the soft breeze rippling over the leaves of the trees and the song of two birds chippering at each other. Then, a deeper sound, almost like distant thunder, echoed through the earth.

  Her gaze swept for the source as the sound grew fiercer in its strength. From nowhere, three horses burst from a patch of trees off to her right, straddled by three mean-looking men. These weren’t friendly visitors, not the way they were barreling down on her, and a sweep of her surroundings told Honoria she had strayed too far from the castle.

  With a cry of alarm, she spurned Bach around, urging him into a run. Honoria’s only thought to reach the castle before they caught her. But her escape was cut off by three more riders boring down on her front.

  Panic rose.

  Had she ridden into a trap? Her pulse leaped, heart sinking to her toes. Honoria recognized the man leading the group at once.

  “Well, look what we have here,” the sickening voice of Danior spoke. “If it’s not the little girl who’s not a little girl.”

  Lash’s brother.

  Danior.

  Something was wro
ng. Very wrong.

  Lash didn’t know how he knew it, he just did. Right down to his bones. The sensation of dread grew fiercer with each passing minute, refusing to be shaken.

  Honoria was in trouble.

  “Have you seen Honoria?” he barked, striding into one of the morning rooms where Hugh and Isla were taking a late afternoon tea.

  Two sets of eyes turned to him.

  “Painting in her chamber, I believe,” Isla offered. Her brows puckered. “Why? Is something amiss?”

  “I just came from her room, and she is not there.”

  “Why would you be searching for her in her room?” Hugh asked, his face clouding over.

  “We were in the tower together, and she—”

  “Alone?” Hugh’s brow arched to his hairline.

  “Yes, alone, and she left upset,” Lash growled. “That is not important, what’s of greater import is finding her.”

  Hugh leaped to his feet. “And why would my sister be upset after spending time alone with you in the tower?”

  “Does it matter?” Lash snapped. “Your sister is in trouble, I can sense it.”

  “I am not sure what gypsy sorcery you are into, Ruthven, but I’m sure Honoria is fine,” Hugh said. “My orders were clear.”

  Isla rose to her feet, her eyes filled with concern. “She asked you to take her to Edinburgh, did she not? And you declined. Is that why she left upset?”

  Hugh’s head whipped to his sister and then back to Lash. “Is that true? She asked you to take her to Edinburgh?”

  Lash gave a grim nod.

  Hugh muttered an oath. “And you knew she wanted to ask Ruthven to take her to Edinburgh?” he demanded of Isla. “That’s what you were plotting all along?”

  “Aye, she might have mentioned it.”

  “Unbelievable!” Hugh snapped. He turned back to Lash. “Well, now we do have to find her. The lass does not take well to rejection.”

  “Are you sure you are not sensing these feelings because she left the tower upset?” Isla asked. “She’s been wanting to go to Edinburgh for years.”

  “Aye,” Hugh agreed, and added, “and you feel guilty for refusing her after she saved your life.”

  “That’s not it,” Lash bit out. “And why the hell didn’t anyone take her? It seems like an innocent enough request.”