Page 59 of Highland Renegade
His uncle frowned. “I thought ye were going to persuade her to return to London once ye convinced her that everything was in order here.”
That had been his intention, although with what Emily had just told him about her circumstances, that had changed. He grimaced. If he were honest with himself, he’d been attracted to her since she arrived, although he’d done his best to ignore those feelings. Then, he’d actually begun to enjoy her company—her wit, her straightforwardness, her determination—and their kiss had told him she was not immune to him, either. But looking at his brothers’ and uncles’ faces, this was not the time to announce his feelings. Nor could he reveal what Emily had told him without her permission.
“I canna order her to leave.”
“Ye are willing to let her have Strae Castle?” Broderick asked. “Ye are willing to put her above yer clan?”
“Nae! That willna happen.” At least, he prayed it wouldn’t. That wasn’t a choice he wanted to make.
“And what of the distillery?” Broderick went on. “I have been running it for years. I…” He looked at his brother. “Wehave made it profitable.”
Carr intervened. “It will continue to be. The contract that was drawn up still gives ye the same profit margin ye have now. And even more in three years when the bottles we’re distilling this year will be ready.”
“But the excess goes to the countess.”
“That seems fair.” Alasdair shrugged. “She was the one who got the London agent to come up here and agree to buy our whisky.”
“However, business is nae the reason we are all in here,” Carr said. “We are worried about Devon and his reaction to Lady Woodhaven.”
Ian sighed. He was worried about his reaction, too. “I will have a talk with him when he returns.”
“I doona think that will help,” Alasdair replied. “He canna even accept the sisters… Lorelei, especially, has done nothing to insult him. But…” He paused. “Ye ken the reason Devon feels the way he does.”
“We doona ken for sure.”
Carr studied him, then said softly, “Lady Woodhaven looks like Isobel.”
“I will grant that their coloring is the same,” Ian replied, “but ye canna compare the countess to our father’s wife.” Lucifer’s horns! Two women couldn’t be more opposite in integrity and honor.
“We doona,” Alasdair said, “but Devon is a different matter.”
Ian sighed again. Devon had been twelve when their father had married Isobel. He had been the most vocal of all of them when their father had told them of his plans. He’d resented, quickly and hard, that his father got married only two years after their mother’s death. “Aye, he is.”
“It didna help that Isobel received…visitors…when Da was away,” Carr said.
“Ye might as well just say it.” Ian felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “Our lovely stepmother was promiscuous.”
“Yer father—our brother—didna deserve that,” Donovan said.
There was no doubt in Ian’s mind that their father had loved their mother with his whole heart. Had, in fact, wandered about like a lost soul, hardly speaking or taking an interest in anything, for a whole year. And then, at an event in Glasgow, Isobel had come into his life. “Nae, he didna.”
“Isobel betrayed the man who loved her,” Broderick said.
Ian nodded his agreement. Vivacious, free-spirited, lighthearted, and bubbly, Isobel had brought their father out of his melancholy, and he’d fancied himself in love once more. Grateful that such a young and pretty woman would agree to become his wife, he’d turned a deaf ear to whatever whisperings arose about her.
But Devon hadn’t. Young and untried, innocent of the nuances that took place between men and women, he blamed Isobel’s behavior on the fact that she was English…and the English had always been the enemy.
…
Emily didn’t see Ian again until the noon meal was served. Since the workers stayed in the fields throughout the day, they were eating in the smaller room near the kitchens. Normally, Ian and his brothers would be out as well, but with everything that had happened this morning—not to mention their “family” conference—they were still at the castle.
She watched him covertly as they sat at the round table, wondering how the talk had gone in the library. Ian appeared calm and collected as did Carr and Alasdair, although they usually did. Rory was the hothead and Devon the rogue, but neither of them had returned. Still, the conversation felt strained, as though everyone were behaving with the best manners.
“Might I have a word with ye?” Ian asked her when the meal was finally over. “’Twill just take a moment.”
Emily had the strangest sensation that his family was hesitant to leave, as were her sisters. All of them seemed to be hovering. Did her sisters think she needed a chaperone? For that matter, did Ian’s brothers know what had transpired in the folly? She felt her cheeks warm as she recalled, in precise detail, exactly what had happened. She glanced sideways at Ian. Had he felt the impact as strongly as she did? Her cheeks grew hot and she pushed the thought away.
“If ye will all excuse us?” he asked. The question seemed to break whatever collective lingering they were doing, for Carr nodded and headed for the door with Alasdair.
