Page 4 of Highland Renegade
“Well, ye did hold her a wee bit longer than necessary,” he said.
Rory scowled. “Only to teach the lass a lesson that they doona have free rein. The MacGregors are in charge here.”
“We hope,” Carr said.
“Aye,” Ian responded before Rory could argue the point. “Assuming the deed is legal, the countess could make our lives miserable.”
“Which is what I thought we were supposed to do to her,” Rory replied. “Wasn’t that the original plan?”
“Aye, but that was when we thought she would just be visiting and the leasehold was still in effect. I doona ken that is the best thing to do now.”
Rory eyed him suspiciously. “Are ye having a change of mind because theolddowager isna quite so old?”
“And bonnie,” Alasdair added.
“Nae!” Ian realized his overly quick denial belied the fact. It didn’t help when Alasdair and Carr both grinned at him. His face warmed like a green lad when he thought of where she was right now… Probably soaking in a bath, her naked body all pink from the warmth of the water… Then he remembered his instructions and which room she’d been given and where it was. His conscience niggled at him. With an effort, he dismissed it and returned to his fantasy of her bathing. He hadn’t had a chance to glimpse much of her, other than her face with its lush, kissable lips, since she’d been wearing a travel pelisse that had covered most of her. Was she…? He shifted in the chair, aware that his breeches had grown tighter. “’Tis a fine line we walk, right now.”
Carr inclined his head. “We might need to reconsider, since she could send us all packing.”
“Doona be an arse!” Rory frowned at both Carr and Ian. “And doona tell me ye are thinking of welcoming them!”
“Nae, but…” Ian held up his hand before Rory could retort. Carr was right. They couldn’t just make life miserable now for three young women. “Mayhap alter the plan a bit. We can still make sure the lasses are shown how hard life can be here, but we can also impress on them what good stewards we are, so they’ll ken there is nothing to worry about when they go back to London.”
“How soon will that be?” Rory asked.
From the way his body was reacting to Lady Woodhaven, the sooner the better. What he didn’t need was to get involved with her. Apart from the fact that she must be very manipulative—how else had she been able to secure the deed in her own name? And she’d chosen to marry a man near old enough to be her grandfather, no doubt for his money and title—but his clansmen would consider him a traitor if he colluded with a Sassenach countess. These wereMacGregorlands, regardless of what an English king decreed. His duty to his clan—who did exist, regardless of legal proclamations—was to hold the lands for his kin.
“Just long enough to assure the countess that everything is being managed well and she can count on her profits being sent to London on a regular basis.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Carr said, “but Devon will nae like it.”
He probably wouldn’t. Their younger brother hated anything to do with the English. He’d even offered to make sure the old dowager didn’t enjoy a single day while she visited. Who knew what he would do once he learned of the new situation. Ian sighed.
“We will just have to deal with that when he returns.”
“And what about our uncles?” Rory asked. “They’re due to arrive in a day or two. They’ll nae be pleased, either.”
Probably not, but at least they wouldn’t be as obvious about their feelings as Devon. Donovan and Broderick had taken the surname Murray and were thus able to move more freely in both English and Scottish society but that didn’t mean they were more likely to want an English countess here.
Ian heaved another sigh and reached for the bottle of whisky on the desk. He would have to handle one crisis at a time.
…
Emily, along with her sisters, followed the middle-aged housekeeper—Ian had called her Maggie—into the castle and up a winding, narrow flight of stairs. Besides issuing a terse “Follow me” the woman hadn’t said a word, nor did she pause in the entryway to give Emily a chance to look around. She’d gotten only a glimpse of a large room beyond double doors to the left and a single door to the right that was closed, before they’d ascended the stairs. When they’d crossed an actual drawbridge and approached what looked like a truly medieval castle, Emily had felt a twinge of excitement. It had a thick crenellated curtain wall surrounding it with merlons and embrasures, and she could picture archers posed along the battlements, bows drawn, ready to do battle with any enemy that approached. The castle itself was an imposing square granite structure, several stories high, with round towers at each end. It was like walking into the world of several centuries ago.
And maybe she had. Inside, the walls were stone, and a wooden staircase they were climbing spiraled upward with uneven steps and no railing to hold on to. She’d read in a history book that they’d been deliberately built that way so invaders would have a hard time brandishing a sword while keeping their balance.
“This looks primitive,” Lorelei whispered.
“I hope there are not bats in the rafters,” Juliana replied.
“Shhh!” Emily hissed at them. The last thing they needed was to insult the housekeeper and, by extension, the MacGregors who were their hosts, but the woman didn’t appear to have heard. Still. The meeting outside had not been exactly cordial and they didn’t need to ruffle anyone’s feathers.
Her sisters said no more, but perhaps that was due to the effort of climbing. Maggie didn’t pause at the first landing but continued up another flight of stairs to the second floor. Then she led them through what seemed a maze of dark interior hallways, lit only with candles stuck in wall sconces. Finally, she stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. Pushing it open, she looked at Emily.
“This is the room the laird made ready for ye.” She glanced at Lorelei and Juliana. “I’ll have the room across the hall aired for them.”
“Thank you.” Emily shot her sisters a warning look. The lack of addressing her properly with “my lady”—especially when the housekeeper gave Ian the respectful term “laird,”even if it was banned by the English—wasn’t a point she wanted to argue at the moment.
