Page 10 of The Lass Abducted the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 4)

With a ghost smile, she reacted. “Uncle, it’s good to see you here.” Her hazel eyes darted to him and back to her relative. “Let me present Lachlan McKendrick. Lachlan, this is my uncle Hamish Pitcairn.” Although she said McKendrick’s given name for the first time, the delight of it he would keep for later.

The man gushed such hatred at her, Lachlan marvelled she did not become ash on the spot. By the looks of it, The Pitcairn never imagined his niece would pull such a trick on him. Men were used to the women acquiescing to their wishes and demands. The Darroch lass was not about to allow the villain to walk all over her.

“A pleasure, McKendrick,” Hamish said stonily. “I hope you know what you’re doing by saddling yourself to a Darroch.”

Lachlan bowed despite feeling anything but civilized. “The Darrochs are one of the oldest and most prominent clans in the Highlands,” he answered.

McKendrick could see the crease in her uncle’s forehead. Hamish was not happy at the way his niece outmanoeuvred him, not in the least. Her uncle would no doubt strike back. In what manner Lachlan had no clue.

But the man’s lips stretched in a humourless grin. “You’ll see the Pitcairns are on their way up.” By becoming usurpers, of course.

Lachlan did not stoop low enough to answer. “Moira, darling,” her name came silky and thoughtful, and he realized he quite liked saying it. “We must invite your uncle for dinner one of these days.”

Smiling up at him, she continued the farce. “What a capital idea, Lachlan dear,” she sang.

“If you’ll excuse us,” her ‘betrothed’ said politely. “There are guests requiring out attention. Enjoy the feast.” With a slight bow he guided the lass away from that snake.

Her dainty hand shook on his sleeve. As quick as possible, he guided her to a corner. Her features were still waxen. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Her tiny frame sagged against the tree by which they halted. Eyes closed, she nodded. “I did not invite him,” she started, lifting her lashes. “But I knew word would reach him and he would not leave it be.” The weariness in her tone almost propelled him to go back and thrash The Pitcairn to a pulp.

“We must hire people to watch you,” Lachlan said. Upon seeing her uncle, the reality of her plight hit him like a hammer.

Her spine straightened away from the tree. “No.” Her voice firm despite the ordeal. “He wants the clan leadership not me.”

“True, but with an alliance with the McKendrick, you made it much more difficult for him.”

“Precisely,” she agreed. “I expect him to back down now.”

“I’ve just formed a slightly different impression on the matter,” the laird replied.

“Look,” she said with a resigned sigh. “I’ve been dealing with him for more than a year. He may be greedy, but he’s a coward. He’ll not face up to the whole Highlands with the McKendrick network of alliances.”

In exasperation, Lachlan raked a hand through his luxuriant hair. “I hope you’re right,” he compromised. Because, if she was not, danger for her had increased tenfold.

“We should go back and make sure everyone buys into this charade,” she said.

He marvelled at her steel resolve. With a nod, he offered his arm.

“What a pleasant evening,” The Lady McKendrick said as she sat on a threadbare settee, her utter beauty in stark contrast with the decay surrounding her.

The gathering finished on an optimistic note, everyone showing more confidence in the future.

And now, Moira felt embarrassed with the hospitality, or lack thereof, she could offer the McKendrick ladies. “I’m sorry for the uncomfortable furniture,” she said after asking her new maid for a tray of tea.

The men took over her study to drink what remained of the whisky. The children fell asleep in their baskets or in their mother’s arms, in the case of the oldest, Ewan.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Catriona soothed Moira. “Much more agreeable than mounting a rebel horse, I assure you.” Her cut-glass London accent told of an upbringing south of the Hadrian wall.

Under an alias, she answered an advert to come to the Highlands and tame a problematic horse Fingal had bought. She also ended up taming the horse owner in the process.

“Or travelling all day under wheat flour sacks,” added Aileen, remembering when she had tried to elude the overbearing McDougal.

“Not to mention a derelict cottage, I’d reckon,” Lady McKendrick replied.

Stories circulated of how, in order to save her husband from a death threat, she hid in the remotest part of their lands.

Moira realised these women were warriors in their own way and in the name of the love for their husbands, had endured a great deal. Admiration and pride for her sister highlanders flourished.

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