One Hot Scot (7 page)

“You have cotters?”

“Aye. Aboot a hundred or so. Nothing close to what Glengask has. Or Bellamy.”

The trail curved around the green, sloping side of the hill, and if they hadn’t been in such a hurry, she would have stopped in her tracks. Lenox “House” was something of a misnomer. It was nearly a castle by English standards, all tall stone walls of white and windows looking across the valley. It was at least the size of Bellamy Park, and much more … friendly looking, if she said so herself. But it did look welcoming, and warm—or perhaps that was because she knew its owner was much the same.

“It’s lovely,” she said aloud, panting.

A gun fired somewhere behind them, the sound echoing into the hills and mountains like high-pitched thunder. Julia flinched and nearly lost her footing. Swiftly Duncan caught her up under the elbow, holding her close against him until she had her balance again.

“Nae need to worry, lass. They willnae shoot ye. They only want us to stop.” He whistled loudly, and a trio of men appeared from the direction of the stable. “Lads, find yer muskets and get to the house!” he bellowed.

The men disappeared again. Julia risked a glance over her shoulder and nearly shrieked. Bellamy and his cousin were only a hundred or so yards behind them and riding at a full gallop. “Duncan!”

“I know.” Turning around, he unslung his rifle and lowered it in their direction. “Go to the side door, lass,” he said, backing in the same direction.

“Give me what’s mine, you thief!” Bellamy yelled.

“Come and take her, then!” Duncan returned, “if ye can do it with yer head blown off!”

She reached a heavy oak door at the side of the house. Just as she had a heartbeat to wonder if it would be locked, it swung open, and a tall, red-headed man motioned her inside. “In with ye, lass. Where’s Master Duncan? I heard him bellowin’.”

“Right behind me.”

She ducked behind the door so she could watch without being seen; as she was the bone of contention, staying out of Bellamy’s view seemed the wisest thing she could do. Duncan stood a few feet before the open door, his rifle leveled in the earl’s direction. Bellamy and Orville rode back and forth in front of him, clearly trying to see if they could make their way past his guard.

“This is trouble you don’t want, Duncan!” Bellamy called out, scowling. “Whatever she’s told you is a lie. She belongs to me, and you’re only doing yourself and your sisters a disservice.”

“If ye dunnae know what she’s told me, how do ye know it’s a lie?” he shot back.

“You’re protecting her, so she’s lying. Hand her over, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

“Get off my land, and ye’ll live to see sunset,” Duncan replied, his voice as cool as if he was talking with Julia over their game of chess.

“Bah. We’ll be back, with help. You have until three o’clock to come to your senses, Lenox!”

He stood there blocking the door until both men had ridden out of sight. Only then did he lower the rifle and walk into the house. “Murdoch,” he said, “I want men with weapons at the windows.”

“Aye, Master Duncan.” The servant took Duncan’s rifle and then their coats and hats. “Bellamy brought himself by here yesterday, asking after a brown-haired English lass. Insisted on looking through the house. I let him, but I kept that damned Orville Fersen ootside.”

With a nod, Duncan took Julia’s hand, leading the way into the bowels of the house. “Where are my sisters?”

“When the ruckus started, Sorcha herded the other two upstairs to yer grandmama’s room.”

“Good. Who else is here?”

“Just the usual lads, and Mr. Finchey and Father Ross come to ask for donations for rebuilding Mrs. MacGeath’s house after her boy kicked over the lantern.” The red-headed man kept pace behind them, as if he was accustomed to his employer dashing headlong through the large house. “This would be the brown-haired English lass, then?”

“Aye, though any man with eyes could see that her hair’s auburn, nae brown.”

As simple as it was, that seemed like a compliment. Heaven knew she hated it when people said her hair was brown. “Brown” sounded like such a dull color. “Auburn,” though … Julia shook herself. Clearly she was exhausted if she could spend time worrying over how people described her hair. She half turned and waved a hand in the butler’s direction. “Pleased to meet you, Murdoch.”

“And ye, lass.”

“Keep Finchey and Father Ross here, Murdoch,” Duncan ordered. “If they’ll nae help, they can at least be witnesses.”

“They’ll nae be leaving, then. I’ll see to it now.” As they started up the stairs, Murdoch veered away toward the rear of the house.

“Is he your butler?” she asked, winded and her fur-bound feet clumsy now on the precise stone stairs.

“He organizes the house, so I suppose so. Dunnae call him that, though, or he’ll be putting on airs.”

Duncan was glad that Julia could still take a moment here and there and notice what lay around her; most women in her position would likely be in a dead faint by now. But then he’d already realized that she wasn’t like most women. Or any woman he’d ever met, truly.

With Bellamy giving them until three o’clock, he had somewhere around three hours to prepare for a fight. Until yesterday he would have spent a great deal of effort to avoid just this sort of conflict, because the last thing he wanted was to have neighbors who preferred him dead. Unfriendly was one thing, and the lot of them were accustomed to that. But this was different.

He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to the right, heading for the westernmost bedchamber on the floor. Belatedly it dawned on him that perhaps his first priority shouldn’t be introducing Julia Prentiss to his loved ones, but that was what he meant to do. He wasn’t going to leave her sitting in the morning room while he made plans to protect her.

Aside from that, his lasses needed to like her—not because he would surrender her if they didn’t, but because it felt … vital that they view her the same way he did. So he could know that this wasn’t some faerie tale, but a real woman and a real … chance at something wondrous and unexpected.

“Grandmama Maevis?”

“Are ye alone, Duncan?”

“Nae. I’ve a lass with me.”

“The Sasannach lass Bellamy’s foaming over?”

He squeezed Julia’s fingers in his. “Aye.”

“Well, let’s have a look at her, then. Open the door slow, lad.”

Doing as she suggested, he lowered the handle and eased open the narrow door. His grandmother sat in the center of the room, her white hair piled high and a blunderbuss comfortably across her lap. He was well aware that she knew just how to use the big musket.

“Ye havenae stashed my sisters in the wardrobe, have ye?” he asked, drawing Julia in behind him.

“We’re behind the sofa,” his youngest sister, Keavy said, straightening.

The other two joined her in standing then came around the furniture to hug him. All of them talking at once, they regaled him with the tale of how Bellamy had come calling and demanded to look through their house, and how Keavy had wanted to bloody his nose for being a Campbell and daring to set foot on Lenox property.

“Ye’ve had quite the adventure then, aye?” he broke in. “So have I. Ladies, this is Miss Julia Prentiss. Julia, Sorcha, Bethia, and Keavy. And Grandmama Maevis.”

His sisters curtsied in a ragged wave then dragged Julia into the conversation. Duncan relinquished her, grinning at her expression, before he went to squat down beside his grandmother’s chair.

“Bellamy means to come back for her at three o’clock,” he said in a low voice. “He’ll have more men and more weapons with him.”

“Why did she run from him? He’s no Adonis, but a marriage is a ma—”

“He didnae marry her. He dragged her oot of a ball in Aberdeen, intending to bully her into marriage to save her reputation. She’s an heiress, with a cartful of money going to her husband on her marriage.”

“And she ran oot from under Hugh Fersen’s beady little eyes?”

Duncan grinned. “Aye. That she did. She stumbled across me, and I hid her in the old cottage.”

His grandmother eyed him. “And?” she prompted.

“And what? We waited oot the rain and made our way here. Bellamy crossed our trail aboot half a mile from the house.”

“Ye were holding her hand, lad,” Maevis said in a lower voice.

He could dissemble, he supposed, but that would only make explaining things more difficult later. “Aye. That I was. She … It’s odd, I suppose, since I’ve only known her one day, but she’s … dear to me.” Duncan sent a glance in Julia’s direction, to find her seated on the couch, smiling, with Sorcha holding one of her hands, and Keavy the other.

“How dear?”

“Very dear.”

“Enough fer ye to risk yer sisters and Lenox House?”

“I’ll attempt to avoid that, but I’ll nae hand her over. Bear MacLawry’s still at Glengask. I’ll send the four of ye there to keep ye safe.”

“By the time we arrived and Bear decided to charge to yer rescue, it’d be too late, Duncan. Ye think Bellamy would lose a minute of sleep over burning this house to the ground because of pride and money?”

“I dunnae mean to lose, Grandmama.” He took a breath. “Father Ross is here. I’ll send him with y…” Duncan trailed off.
Father Ross was in the house
.

Maevis narrowed her eyes. “Duncan, what in St. Bridget’s name are ye thinking?”

“Excuse me for a moment, Grandmama.”

She grabbed his wrist as he stood. “Ye mean to
marry
her? Bellamy can make her a widow and still marry her.”

“Aye,” he whispered back. “But he wouldnae get her dowry. That would go to me and mine. And that might just stop him.”

“Just to save her from a beau she doesnae favor? Ye’re more cautious than that, lad.”

He shook his arm free. “It’s more than that, and ye know it. I … I know I’m a cautious man. But when I see her, I want to beat my chest and roar.”

“Duncan…”

With a forced smile, he backed away. “She may say nae, and this will all be moot,
seanmhair
.” Ignoring the scowl she sent after him, Duncan made his way to the sofa. “I need a word with ye, Julia,” he said, holding out his right hand.

She curled her fingers into his and stood. “Your sister, Keavy, was just telling me that she can shoot a musket. She’s volunteered to take a window in the attic and shoot any Fersens or Campbells who dare show their faces.”

“Aye. She’s bloodthirsty,” he agreed, glancing at his eight-year-old sister. Still holding Julia’s hand, he led the way out of the room and down the hallway to the north-facing conservatory, the one with a view overlooking the mountains and the endless rolling Highlands. His favorite view. “What did ye think of them? My sisters, I mean?”

“They’re delightful. And I think they liked me.”

“As do I. They generally dunnae hang onto guests. Especially a Sasannach.” He took a moment to look out the window. She’d come here on a lark. Could she—would she—wish to remain?

“What is it?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“I’ve an idea. If we spent the next six months as we intended, I’d call on ye in London, and I’d woo ye, and then I’d sink on one knee and ask ye to marry me.”

Her eyes searched his. “I think you’ve already wooed me, Duncan. Unless you’ve decided this is too much of a risk. I can’t—I won’t—I won’t go with him, but I can flee here. If you give me a horse, then perhaps I—”

“Do ye want to flee here? Because I dunnae want that.”

“Well, I don’t want it, either. But I’m trying to figure out what you’re saying, and it’s rather aggravating.”

Taking her other hand as well, he sank down on one knee. “What I’m saying is, if I already know that I’ll ask ye fer yer hand in six months, why cannae I ask fer it today? I’ve known ye fer a day, lass, and at the same time I feel like I’ve known ye forever.”

Her face had grown pale, but her grip on his hands was hard and firm. “Duncan, you don’t have to do this to protect me.”

“Nae. It has the added benefit of protecting ye, but it’s nae why I’m doing it.”

“But Bellamy might murder you, just to get hold of me again. That won’t help anything, and it would … it would kill me if something happened to you.”

“I happen to have a priest under my roof today. And a cartful of witnesses. If I’m yer husband, then yer dowry is mine, isnae?”

She nodded, frowning. “Yes.”

“And if he kills me, yer dowry goes to my heirs, doesnae? It would be oot of yer hands?”

“Yes.”

“Then it would go to our child, if we made one last night,” he murmured. “And if we didnae, my nearest male relation is Lord Glengask. He’d return the money to ye. I’ll write it all oot, just to make it clear that Bellamy has nothing to gain here.”

Now her hands were shaking in his. He hoped that was a good sign, and it didn’t mean she was about to wallop him. Perhaps he was being mad, but once he had the thought, it made more sense than quite possibly anything he’d ever done before. All he needed was her agreement. If she wanted him.

“You think I might be with child?” she whispered.

“We didnae … That is to say,
I
didnae take precautions. I didnae expect to meet ye, Julia. I didnae think I’d want ye so. I—”

She pulled one of her hands free and put it gently over his lips. “Is this what you want, Duncan? Tell me you’re not simply being the generous, heroic man I know you to be.”

He smiled up at her. “Fer God’s sake, lass, I feel like a scoundrel, using Bellamy to get ye bound to me. If it didnae sound foolish fer me to say it, I’d tell ye that I love ye. I
will
tell ye that this is the beginning of love, that what I feel fer ye will only become more and more. But ye should know, I mean to live here, with my sisters. Ye’ll be far from London most of the year, and—”

“Yes.”

He swallowed. “Yes, ye’ll be far from London, or yes ye’ll—”

“Yes, I will marry you. Today. Now. And I will hurt anyone who tries to come between us.”

Slowly he stood again, pulling her into his arms and kissing her warm, soft mouth. “No one’s allowed to come between us,” he murmured.

When he considered all of the chance moments that might have gone differently, the number of things that had to go just as they did in order for them even to meet, he had to become a believer in … something. In God, in Providence, in Magic, in Love. Or all of them, just to be certain he gave the correct entity its due.