A Gypsy in Scotland (MacCallan Clan Book 1)

by Tanya Wilde

  “And you thought he’d be here? Are you mad?” She clutched her throat. “Of course you are! You’re here.”

  Drew Murray would not set foot on these lands. He knew what would happen if he did. Her brothers . . . They hadn’t forgiven him for what had happened to Ewan.

  “You don’t know?” Alasdair asked.

  “Know what?” she asked, the tension of the situation making her irritable.

  “My brother has carried a torch for your sister ever since the day she entered the world as a screaming bairn.”

  Honoria blinked. “What?”

  He nodded. “You might not remember it, but our mothers were inseparable in those times. And the day Isla was born, Drew was right there.”

  “I recall he followed her around, but I never suspected . . .”

  Alasdair shrugged. “Drew has always been in love with your sister. When he was little, he swore the fairies made her just for him.”

  Honoria hadn’t realized. And she had forgotten the Murrays believed in fairies and all sorts of magical folk tales.

  “So you believe he is here? To . . . ?”

  “To win her heart, no doubt. And I don’t believe he’s here, I know he is.”

  Honoria shook her head. “He is not, I assure you. Besides, even if he was, he’s too late. Isla is in love with Patrick Moray, our former gardener. Or was in love. Adair sent him away.”

  “Patrick Moray?”

  “You are acquainted with him?” Honoria asked.

  Alasdair choked out a non-committal response and Honoria forged on, “Yes, well, these days she has formed a friendship with Neill Ross, our head groom, but she might only be punishing my brothers for sending away the man she favored.”

  Alasdair’s jaw dropped. “Neill Ross?”

  “Yes, that is what I said. Why?”

  “You truly do not see it?”

  “See what?”

  “Patrick Moray. Neill Ross.”

  “What about them?”

  Alasdair sighed. “Honestly, Honoria. Drew’s full name is Drew Patrick Neill Murray.”

  Honoria narrowed her eyes. “Surely that is but a coincidence.”

  Alasdair shook his head.

  The man had gone mad. “Our groom’s family name is Ross.”

  “Our mother’s maiden name,” Alasdair said.

  Honoria shook her head. “I’d have known if Drew was masquerading as a servant. Isla would have known.” Honoria paused, her brows furrowing as she inspected Alasdair, who himself proved utterly unrecognizable.

  Patrick had always worn a cap and spectacles with a dark stubbled jaw. Mr. Ross wore his hair longer with an even thicker, red beard. She had never seen either man cleanly shaven, which Drew had always been. And he’d worn his hair shortly cropped.

  Honoria felt the color drain from her face.

  If Isla discovered the truth . . .

  Wait. What if Isla had known . . .

  Nay. Her sister would have told her. Which meant that she didn’t know and—

  “Merciful heavens,” Honoria breathed.

  “I must find him, Honoria. It is time for him to come home. And I’d prefer to remove him before he is discovered.” Alasdair stepped away from her.

  Honoria hadn’t even realized she’d still been pushed up against the wall. “He keeps quarters in the stable loft,” she admitted in a daze.

  Alasdair suddenly grabbed her face between his hands and gave her a smack on the lips.

  “What was that for?” Honoria protested.

  “For speaking to me, for not calling your brothers and having me strung up by my feet, and for telling me where to find my brother.”

  “Alasdair,” Honoria called when he turned and walked away. He stopped, looking back at her and she said, “I do not blame Drew for what happened to Ewan. It was an accident, but my brothers . . . they . . .”

  “I know, lass. Had the tables been turned, I’d have felt the same. I never blamed them for hating us.”

  Honoria nodded and watched him disappear into the night. Her mind numb from his revelation. A Murray had been in their midst for months and they had not been the wiser. Drew Murray was Patrick Moray, was Neill Ross. Her brothers would scale the walls if they ever found out.

  And Isla . . .

  “Oh, Isla,” Honoria muttered. She had to find her sister. Had to warn her. She turned to head back inside, but her retreat was halted by a steady hand clamping over her mouth.

  Alasdair Murray!

  This time she was going to give him a piece of her mind. He nearly scared her to death—again!

  A mouth pressed against her ear and growled, “I’ve not been gone for three days, and already you moved on to another man.”

  Honoria’s breath caught in her throat. Lash.

  She began to struggle in his arms and he let her go. She twisted around to glare at him but found herself too dumbstruck to say anything. Dressed in full Scottish tartan—her clan’s colors, it disoriented her senses for a second, and Honoria could do nothing but blink. Then her arms settled over her chest, mostly in fear her heart would explode out of it. And that she was dreaming.

  “What are you doing here?” Honoria demanded, finding her voice. “You nearly scared me to death.”

  “What are you doing?” He countered. “I saw you kiss another man.”

  “Are you spying on me?”

  “No, I was waiting for the right moment to slip into the party to find you when I saw you saunter out onto the terrace with another man on your arm.”

  “He’s an old friend.”

  “Do old friends kiss one another?”

  Her lips pinched together. “Don’t you dare be jealous! You have no right.”

  “No right? You are mine, monisha, that gives me every right.”

  Monisha. It was a lovely word, and Honoria imagined it had a lovely meaning. But he had left her. Broke her heart. She may not be able to subdue the flutter of hope in her chest, but she would not let him think he could storm back into her life so easily. She straightened her spine.

  “Don’t you dare call me endearments I don’t understand in that wicked accent of yours. You left me. Without a word. How do you explain that?”

  Chapter 23

  Lash could not take his eyes off Honoria, breathtaking in a gown of flowing red silk. Her locks were pulled together in a braid and secured at the top of her head, one curl straying along the side of her face. She looked tired, almost defeated, and still she was the most beautiful woman here tonight.

  Her accusation stung, but it was true. Lash had left her—or tried. He had thought the best thing he could do for her was to walk away, to spare her the ridicule of being tied to a half-breed bastard. But whatever he had thought was best, he hadn’t been able to make it past the stables.

  For three days and three lonely nights, he had stewed on a bed of hay. He had meant to leave and find his family. Meant to make it past the castle gates. Meant to do the right thing.

  But no, he had remained, selfishly, and argued with himself instead. Argued over what was best for her. For him. Over how to best find his sister. Over how to begin to search for his mother and father. Over the future. And no matter how much he debated over which path to take, it always led back to one, singular, earth-shattering conclusion: he could imagine no future without Honoria MacCallan in it.

  She was his woman. His fate.

  He was a half-breed bastard.

  He accepted that.

  Lash would confront his fate, fight her brothers for her, convince her to accept him and hope that she didn’t regret her choice, to claim her as his, only to discover her in another man’s arms. He hadn’t truly understood how leaving had never been a true option until that moment.

  “Well?” Honoria demanded.

  “I may have left, but I am not the only one that gave up, it seems.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Letting another man kiss your plush pink lips, dancing the night away . . . were you goi
ng to choose a husband tonight? Is that not giving up on what we shared?”

  “Do not be absurd. I’m having a horrid night. But what did you expect? That I’d lock myself in my bedchamber consumed by grief? Sulk on the top of my precious hill, pining away?”

  He circled her wrist when she would have turned and walked away. “Yes! Dammit!” Lash knew he had no ground to stand on, that his jealousy bordered on irrational. “Your brother told me you loved me! Was that not true?”

  She reared back. “My brother? Hugh? How dare that scoundrel speak for me!”

  “To keep me from leaving.”

  “Och, and you went anyway! I am furious with you, Lash Ruthven.” She struggled in his arms. “Let me go.”

  “No.” His grip firmed.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Before I scream, I am going to kick you—”

  Lash cut her off by clamping a hand over her mouth again. He whirled her around so her back pressed up against his chest, lifting her and shackling her to his body with his arms. Turning on his heel, he started down the path leading to the stables.

  He had expected her anger. He had expected to grovel. He had expected to lay his heart bare. What he hadn’t expected was the scene that had greeted him, so different from the one he had fantasized about. Forgive him for feeling a bit more than justified in his anger.

  She didn’t struggle as he strode across the lavish gardens, keeping to the shadows, quickening his pace when he heard the voices of guests that had ventured into the gardens.

  Only once he reached the stables, did he set her back on her feet in the stall he’d used the past three days. “Now you can scream all you like, and kick me if you wish, but we will have this conversation uninterrupted.”

  He watched as she glanced around the stall, taking in the straw bed covered with quilts. Some books. A few items of clothing. Complements from Ross.

  “You have been staying here?” she asked, her amber eyes lifting to meet his.

  “Yes.”

  She circled the stall. “You never left?”

  “No.”

  She huffed out a harsh breath. “Lash Ruthven! I cannot believe you let me believe you left me while you were staying in the stables!”

  Yes, that was the heart of it, but Lash needed some answers of his own first. “Who was that man?”

  “What?”

  “The man. Who you were kissing. Who was he?”

  “What do you care?”

  “I care, dammit! Now tell me who he was. Is he someone to you?” Lash growled.

  “Och! You are impossible. That was Alasdair Murray, who is searching for his brother.”

  “And he needed to do that in the cover of darkness?”

  “Aye, you must have heard the tales. A Murray was the reason my brother Ewan died. My brothers would have his hide if they discovered him here.” She lifted her hand when he would have growled. “And before you accuse me of letting him kiss me again, I did not. He caught me by surprise. And it was only to thank me. I pointed him in the direction of his brother.”

  “Men don’t kiss women to thank them for information.”

  “Perhaps not any men you are acquainted with. No, they abduct women and attempt to kill their half-siblings.”

  “Rom do not like their women alone with other men, and they certainly don’t like other men kissing their women.”

  “Their women? I am not your woman.”

  Lash took a deep breath, let go of his jealousy, and considered her. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I thought you left me, after all we shared. Did my brother know?”

  “Which one?”

  “You know which one!”

  “To be fair, I did leave, but I only made it as far as the stables, and no, nary one of your brothers knew, only Ross.”

  “Neill Ross knew?”

  “Yes, why?”

  She waved his question aside. “Never mind that now.” She paused. “You lied to me.”

  Regret hit him like a blow to the chest. He reached out to trail his thumb over her lower lip. “I know, and I will never lie to you again.”

  She tipped her chin up. “Why should I believe you? If you only made it as far as these stables, why did you not turn around and march back up?”

  Lash dragged a hand through his hair. “I thought I needed answers. Needed to leave to find my family, to find who I truly was and where I belong in the world.”

  “Then why did you stay?”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “I realized I already had the answers, and they were you,” he whispered. “The answer has always been you. I belong with you.”

  “You cannot say such things to me and not mean them, Lash Ruthven.”

  “I mean every word.” He searched her face. “Your brothers don’t want us to be together, monisha, and I’m no titled lord. I’m a Rom. Half of one, at least. Your life with me will never be easy. It will be deuced hard, especially given the ridicule that will extend to you once we are married.”

  “I enjoy a challenge.”

  “I have nothing to offer you but myself. No connections, no wealth, and at the moment, not even a family. But here I am anyway because I’m too selfish to leave and let you find a better man.”

  Her face softened at the edges. “I don’t care about any of that. And my brothers will learn to live with my decision. It never mattered to me whether you were a snake charmer, fortune teller or the seller of rare magical amulets to ward off evil spirits, so long as I could be near you.”

  “Snake charmer? Magical amulets?”

  She grinned. “I don’t care for an easy life. I’ve had enough of that. I want adventure—with you.”

  Lash stepped forward, cupping her cheek in a calloused hand, feathering his thumb over their softness. “I have come to a conclusion.”

  “Another?”

  He nodded. “I have concluded that you, Honoria MacCallan, are my atchen tan—my stopping place. I will never leave you. I will never want to.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I thought Rom were wanderers?”

  “I fear I may have fallen into the impure ways of the gadjo.” At her look, he laughed. “I’m teasing, monisha. While most Rom never stop wandering, a few, like me, find their stopping place. You are mine. I will go wherever you go.”

  “Anywhere?”

  The way she was looking at him, with her heart in her eyes, made his blood quicken. He seized her hand and held it over his heart. “Anywhere.”

  “If that is the case, we shall have to get married so you can follow me around.”

  He shortened the distance with another step. “Many would argue we already are married in the ways of the Rom.”

  “We are? And you’re only telling me this now? You do realize you left your wife!”

  “I never left, monisha. I merely took some time for myself. But we will get married the gadjo way, not to worry.”

  She made a scoffing noise. “Are we going to tell my brothers tonight?”

  Lash shook his head, a wicked curve lifting his lips. “Tonight you are mine. Tomorrow, we battle.”

  She glanced frantically around. “But we are in the stables. You want us to sleep here?”

  “No one will look for you here. And I’m not letting you go back to dance with other men.”

  “Are you always going to be this jealous?” she demanded, but her voice held a teasing note.

  “Yes,” he growled, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

  “Are you going to seduce me now?”

  He caught her mouth in an answering kiss.

  Chapter 24

  It ranked as one of the most perfect moments in Honoria’s life. They lay in each other’s arms, the most secluded spot in the stables, only the occasional snort of a horse or the distant music from the house infiltrating their sanctuary.

  She had believed fate had sent this man on her path. She still did. But now she believed fate only offered the opportunity; it did not guarantee t
he conclusion. When a chance at love arrives, either nurture the shimmer or leave it to pass on. Honoria had never been more grateful she’d chosen to nurture their spark.

  “This is the first time we’ve done it on a bed,” Honoria wiggled her bottom. “A bed of hay.”

  “I can go my entire life and not take you on a proper bed.”

  She could almost feel the heat that flared to life in his eyes. “I will hold you to that, but beds are comfortable, and I do prefer to sleep in them.”

  His fingers drew circled over her breast. He loved to do that. “Is this your way of telling me we should retire to your chamber?”

  “Is that your way of telling me you don’t want to?”

  He kissed her temple, the tip of her nose, before softly grazing her lips. “I’ll go wherever you go, monisha.”

  Honoria smiled up at him. “I can live with that so long as you don’t dare let my brothers run you off.”

  “Never.” His lips twitched. “Besides, Hugh has my back.”

  “He does?”

  Lash nodded. “I must still find my family. I need to find them, but I have decided to try it your way and search from one place.”

  “With me by your side?” She nudged him playfully.

  “Always.”

  “And when they are all found, I will take you to Edinburgh, Honoria, I swear it.”

  She offered him a winning smile, her heart melting a little. “I shall hold you to that promise.”

  He shifted his big body to stare down at her, his eyes fierce. “Are you sure you want me, monisha? I can never deserve you.”

  “You know, you’ve never told me what that endearment means.” Though she loved it regardless.

  “It means woman.”

  “Woman?” Ugh.

  He laughed. “It also means wife.”

  Och!

  Honoria kissed him. A soft peck that instantly turned sensual, thinking back to the first time he’d called her that. Her heart melted. Och, she was lost for this man.

  She pulled away to catch his gaze. “I am sure I want you, Lash. I love you, and love will always be enough for me. Well,” she hedged. “That and your body, naked.”

  “My body is at your disposal for your every whim,” he said in a warm, seductive rumble. Then his eyes darkened. “From the first time I opened my eyes to find you hovering at my bedside, I knew if I uttered but one word in your presence I’d be lost. You have my heart. All of it.”