Page 45 of Highland Renegade
“Ye ask a lot.”
“If I am tolivehere—and Iam—it is crucial that I be accepted.” Emily raised her chin defiantly, expecting Ian to rebut, but he remained silent. Something flickered in his eyes, though. “One of the reasons I want to be active with the whisky trade is toprovethat I am capable of working hard…that I have earned a part of the profits we will be making.”
Another flicker. It passed so suddenly she didn’t have time to interpret it, but his unusual golden eyes were trained on her like a hawk. Well, she certainly was not going to be a mouse. “Not all Englishwomen are vain, self-indulgent creatures. And,” she added for emphasis, “I do intend to make Strae Castle my home.”
He studied her, the sharpness of his gaze not changing. “Ye have had a chance to see the property and examine the ledgers. The harvest is nearly in. Ye ken we will do well this year.” He paused. “I thought ye’d want to return to London before the weather turns cold. Winters are bitter in the Highlands.”
“You think you can scare me off because of the weather? It will take more than that.” She rose, motioning for him to stay seated. “I am not leaving…except for the moment. I need to remove the sheets from my bed and take them to the laundry.”
He frowned. “Maggie can send a girl up to do that.”
“There is no need.” Emily smiled. “As I said, not all Englishwomen are spoiled. I intend to prove myself to your clan.”
…
Ian watched her leave, mulling over what she’d said. Emily was certainly unlike any English woman he’d met and certainly not like his stepmother. Isobel hadn’t been much older than Emily when his father had married her. The daughter of a dragoon officer, she’dactedlike she were a princess, insisting she have a personal maid—one from England, properly trained—as well as expecting his father’s household servants to do her bidding. And his father, infatuated as he’d been with his young, beautiful bride, had quietly commanded them all to obey. It had been a fraught-filled two years before she’d met her demise and the servants had been able to resume their regular routines.
Unfortunately, Emily had the same fair coloring as Isobel. That their appearances were similar was just another reason for the MacGregors who remembered Isobel to dislike Emily. Or, at least, not trust her.
Trusther. That’s what she wanted his clan to do. He grimaced, thinking how unlikely that was to happen, even if shedidn’tassume airs anddidwork hard to prove herself. Even he resented that she held the deed to Strae Castle and the MacGregor lands. It was a barrier that was nigh unsurmountable. Especially more so if their clan name was reinstated, giving them the right to reclaim their lands. As head of the clan, he would have to defend their rights, even if King George did not agree. That possibility was only too real and, with Gavin Campbell sniffing around Emily’s skirts, she would have a ready ally and clan war could very well break out.
Ian rubbed his temple, feeling the onset of a headache. His brothers had not been exaggerating when they’d had their earlier discussion. War with theCampbellswho, more often than not, sided with the Crown, could quickly put an end to the MacGregors’ reinstatement. History had proved how many times that had happened before.
The whole thing was a quagmire more treacherous than any peat bog.
But fashing about it would do no good. Emily said she intended to make Strae Castle her home, and he already recognized the tone of her voice when she wasn’t about to be deterred. Somehow, this situation needed to be reconciled, but he had no idea how to do it. Maybe he should…
A female scream rent the air, suddenly halted in mid-screech.Emily? Ian pushed back his chair, knocking it over, and rushed to the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Ian ran out of the empty Great Hall to find Emily lying in a heap at the bottom of the spiral stairs, crumpled bedsheets on the floor beside her. She wasn’t moving and her eyes were closed. Rushing over, he knelt down, his fingers searching for a pulse along her neck. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a faint but steady beat.
His hand lingered there for a moment, savoring the satiny softness of her skin, before he noticed the bump on her forehead that was already beginning to swell. He touched it gingerly and she moaned slightly, but her eyes remained closed. He looked at the winding stairs. She must have tripped on the sheets coming down and, with no railing, had pitched off them. Guilt washed over him and he chastised himself for allowing her to stay in the old part of the castle. He should have insisted that she move closer to her sisters. At least he could remedy that right now by taking her to one of those bedchambers.
As he started to slide his arms beneath her shoulders, he paused, looking down at her face. Long eyelashes, darker than her hair, rested against the delicate curve of her cheekbones. Her lush, full lips were slightly parted. A sudden urge to kiss them jolted him like a lightning bolt. He had no business kissing Emily, especially since she was unconscious. Taking advantage of a woman was not something he did, but the urge was nearly irresistible. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d so desperately wanted to taste a woman’s mouth. Certainly not the occasional tavern wench who slaked his lust in exchange for coin.
Ian looked around. The foyer in front of the Great Hall was entirely empty, workers having gone to the fields and the other servants busy in the newer part of the castle with their daily routines. He was alone with Emily. He glanced down at her once more. There was more color to her cheeks and her breathing was even. She would no doubt stir in a moment or two. What harm could come from stealing a wee kiss before she did? No one would be the wiser…
He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. The softness and warmth nearly undid him, and he wanted more. Wanted to tease and nibble and take. Wanted to wake her with dozens of kisses. Somehow he managed to lift his head, although his eyes lingered on her delectable mouth. With a sigh, he slid his arms beneath her shoulders and knees and lifted her. As he did, her head fell against his shoulder and, although he knew it was because she was unconscious, it felt right—like she belonged in his arms.
He gave himself an inward shake. Such thinking would only lead to trouble. His clan was depending on him to help restore their lands, not conspire with the enemy. He looked down at Emily once more. She didn’t seem so much like the enemy anymore, even if she was English.
More foolish thinking.
“Cad a tharla?” Fiona rushed from the solar as he strode past it. “What happened?”
Juliana appeared behind her. “What’s wrong?”
“Is Emily hurt?” Lorelei crowded behind them.
Down the hall, Ian kicked the door open to an empty bedchamber. “She fell off the stairs while carrying some bedsheets.”
“A Mhuire Mhàthair!” Fiona exclaimed. “And damnation!”
Ian lifted an eyebrow at his sister. “Calling on the virgin and cursing at the same time might nae get results.”
“Ye ken what I mean! ’Tis time ye talk to Maggie about taking the servants to task for nae treating Emily proper.”
