Rogue with a Brogue (33 page)

“How long do we wait?” Peter asked, in the quietest voice she'd ever heard the footman use.

“Mòrag and Sean'll come tell us when they've well and gone,” Arran answered.

“I hope it's soon,” Howard put in. “I need to piss. Begging your pardon, my lady.”

“Well, now I need to piss too, ye halfwit,” Peter grumbled.

“
Church
mice.” Arran's chest shook a little, and Mary realized he was chuckling silently.

After all this, after hearing men say they meant to kill him, after being in a brawl and then being struck on the head by a falling coach, he was amused. And just that thought lifted
her
heart, as well. Because if Arran could laugh, then she could certainly manage to muddle her way through beside him.

“I love you, Arran MacLawry,” she murmured.

His arm around her shoulders jumped. “I may still be delirious, lass,” he returned in the same tone, “because I think I heard someaught.”

“You did, you rogue,” she said, smiling in the darkness.

“Say it again, will ye, Mary?”

“I love you.”

“And I love ye, my bonny lass. Ye've seized my heart, and I'll nae have it back from ye.”

She reached over to find his face with her free hand, then leaned up to kiss him. Without him she'd been alone in the dark for a very long time. Arran had drawn her into the light. She felt it around her even now, light and warm and freeing. And with him in her life, she would never be in darkness again. Not even here and now.

“What's that sound?” Howard asked.

“They're kissing,” Peter answered.

Arran laughed against her mouth, and Mary joined him. Not even the blackest dark could stand against them. Not when they were together.

*   *   *

Arran almost wished Fendarrow and his clan would ride back to the house. Because at this moment, dented head or not, he was fairly certain he could take on the entire Campbell clan with one hand tied behind his back.

Mary loved him.

He kissed her again, wishing Peter and Howard had found another hole in which to hide so he could be alone and naked with her. While he wasn't precisely at his best, he could likely manage that.

At the sound of rapid footfalls approaching he broke away from her mouth and firmed his grip on the pistol. “Be ready,” he breathed. The hidden door slid up. Even the relatively dim light that entered their hole seemed nearly blinding, but he narrowed his eyes and lifted the weapon.

“They're gone,” Sean Mallister said, ducking his head into the opening. “Left a man behind on the nearest hillside to keep an eye on us, I imagine, but I spotted him the moment he rode up there.”

With a nod Arran pocketed the pistol again and motioned Mary toward the opening. “After ye, lass. Lads.”

When the rest of them had exited, he put his head back against the bare wood of the wall and blew out his breath. That had been too damned close. He hadn't arranged the setting, but this was not how a Highlander dealt with trouble. And it was the last time he would hide from his foes in the dark.

Before anyone could crawl back in looking for him, he turned onto all fours, shut one eye against the throbbing, and exited the hidden room. The Campbells had left the hat boxes where they'd fallen, scattered across the floor of the storage closet.

“Let me help you,” Mary said, putting a hand beneath his shoulder and pulling.

He could stand up on his own, but this gave him the excuse to hold her close against him. “Thank ye, Mary.”

The spare bedchamber looked like it had been torn apart by wolves. The Campbells had even taken a knife to the mattress and ripped it open. Feathers littered the plain wooden floor and the blue rug before the hearth like white and gray leaves. And they'd done this not only to their own kin, but to a household that could ill afford to replace the items.

“This is inexcusable, Uncle Sean,” Mary said, a tear running down one cheek as she looked about the room. “I will repay you for the damage. I promise.”

“
We
will,” Arran amended.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” the banker returned, looking far less perturbed than Arran would have expected. “But it's not necessary.”

Holding on to the railing, Arran trailed his small troop down the stairs. Now that he could see straight, he noted the tidy, simple rooms, the fresh flowers that seemed to take the place of expensive heirlooms, and the utter lack of family portraits on the walls. All these two people had was each other.

Sarah Mallister sat on the floor in the front sitting room as she gathered up bills and correspondence that had spilled out of a tipped-over writing desk. “Let me help you with that,” Mary said, releasing Arran and hurrying forward to kneel beside her aunt.

“Where's the fellow ye spied?” Arran asked, facing Sean.

“Just up the hill on the far side of the road. I'd point at him from the window, but I fear he has a spyglass. And if he does, he can see everyone coming and going from here for two miles in either direction.”

“Unless he's a damned cat,” Peter drawled, “he'll nae see us in the dark.”

“Aye,” Arran agreed. “But it's nae dark, so ye and Howard and bonny Mary stay away from the windows at the front of the hoose.”

“I'll be in the kitchen,” Howard said. “This house is too fancy for the likes of me.”

“‘Too fancy,'” Sarah repeated with a rueful laugh. “Bless you, sir.”

“I'm no sir, ma'am. Just Howard. Howard Howard.”

Arran exchanged an amused glance with Mary as the coachman left the room, Peter on his heels. “I thought he'd just declined to give us his other name.” He leaned back against the wall to help him keep his balance. “This couldnae have been an easy thing fer ye. We cannae thank ye enough fer giving us a moment or two to breathe.”

“Please don't thank us, Lord Arran,” Sarah countered, letting Sean pull her and Mary to their feet and then giving her niece a tight hug.

“It's just Arran to ye, if ye dunnae mind,” Arran said.

“Arran, then. I don't care if they've broken a few things. You have no idea how long I've waited to stand up to the Marquis of Fendarrow. You gave me that chance. And I am very—
very
—grateful.”

“But my father broke your things, destroyed your home, because of us.”

“You gave him a reason to come calling. But he did all this”—and Sarah gestured at the torn couch cushions and curtains ripped from the windows—“simply because he could. Sean and I have no clan, no one to rally behind us or make anyone hesitate to do us ill. That was the price we paid to be together.” She smiled, putting an arm around her husband's waist as he slid his arm across her shoulders. “And I would gladly pay it a hundred times over.”

He and Mary were looking into a mirror, Arran realized. Not only could either or both of their clans cause trouble whenever they wished, but so could anyone who'd ever had a disagreement with or a grudge against either a Campbell or a MacLawry.
And yet.

And yet.
Sean and Sarah claimed they had no regrets, and he couldn't detect any sign that they were anything but sincere. “I wouldnae say ye dunnae have a clan, Mòrag,” he said slowly. “Ye have us.”

Mary smiled at him. If he'd required any proof that she was the only thing he needed, that smile provided it. He pushed away from the wall and moved forward, not stopping until he had her in his arms, her mouth soft and warm against his.

“We seem to have a clan, my dear,” Sean said from behind them.

“Aye. Ye do.” Arran lifted his head. “Whether ye want one or nae.”

 

Chapter Seventeen

“We could stay another few days,” Mary said, running her fingers down Arran's chest and then following with her lips. Beneath her cheek his heartbeat accelerated—because of her touch. Because of her. It was intoxicating.

“Your father'll double back if he doesnae catch our scent. And we've been here nearly three days already. We cannae risk more.”

“But Sarah and Sean will be here when my father returns. I can't leave them to his cruelty when I've already seen what he'll do.”

“I've an idea that might help them some.” Arran slid his free hand around her waist and pulled her squarely atop him.

“What idea?” she asked, trying to concentrate on the conversation rather than on where his hands were now roving.

“Just a way to make it look fer certain like they had naught to do with us.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Now. We've an hour before nightfall, my lass. Do ye want to keep chatting aboot our plans fer tonight, or do ye think we might do someaught aboot this terrible swelling I seem to have?”

She laughed. “Again?” Mary drew her hand down between them to curl her fingers around his terrible swelling. “I thought we just dealt with this.”

Arran lifted his head a little to nibble at her exposed throat. “Ye keep encouraging the lad. Perhaps if ye put yer legs aroond my hips,” he said, nudging her legs apart so she straddled him.

With her on top of him, her legs spread, she felt very wanton. Keen need flashed through her, heady and arousing. “Well, let's take care of that, then,” she breathed.

“Kiss me first.”

Lowering her face, her bottom up in the air, she kissed him hot and openmouthed. His cock brushed the inside of her thighs, and she moaned. Arran reached up, opening her with his fingers, and guided her down over him. Mary sat up, sinking down around him. Oh, this was exquisite. He'd been in control before, but this way it was her leading them. She could tease him, coax him, drive him as mad as he drove her.

Planting her palms against his chest, she lifted up and slowly lowered herself again, then repeated the motion as he looked up at her, an aroused smile on his face. “Are ye trying to torment me, Mary?” Arran murmured, catching her breasts in his hands and gently pinching her nipples. “Come fer me, lass.”

He pushed his hips up, filling her completely. With a gasping moan she shattered, flinging herself against him as he rocked up into her, holding her hips to deepen his upward thrusts.
Good heavens
.

As she regained control of her muscles she straightened again, bouncing up and down on his hard cock until he threw his head back and surged up into her. Then with a satisfied sigh she collapsed on his chest again. “You're very good at this, you know,” she panted.

“Ye drive me mad, lass,” he said, putting his arms around her. “I want to be inside ye all day and all night, but I lose myself with wanting ye.”

If he was admitting to a lack of finesse or some such thing, she decided that him being in complete control of himself would likely kill her. She kissed his shoulder. “I'm never letting you go, Arran. Never.”

His grip around her tightened. Legs and arms entwined, with him still inside her, ever leaving this bed would be the worst sin she could imagine. Ever leaving his side, being separated from him, would kill her. She knew that with as much certainty as she knew her own name.

“I changed my mind,” he murmured. “We should stay here. I'm nae letting ye oot of this bed.”

Mary chuckled. “What about my father doubling back to find us?”

He shrugged beneath her. “They've likely forgotten all aboot us by now. I say we take our chances and make our stand here.”

“In this bedchamber?”

“In this bed. I told ye we're nae leaving.”

“Excellent. History will record it as the battle of the feather bed.”

His lean body shook with laughter. “‘They'd thought the bed mended, but by the end feathers flew once more.' Ye know, I'd wager we could split this mattress open again with just the two of us.”

She deliberately rocked her hips, feeling his cock move inside her. “What are we waiting for, then?”

By the time they did leave the bed she was fairly certain feathers had begun drifting out of the knife hole she and Sarah had sewn shut the day before. Because it was growing dark and they didn't dare light a lamp, though, she couldn't be certain.

“I'll button ye,” Arran said, moving around behind her and pulling her simple green muslin up over her shoulders. He kissed one bare shoulder blade, then closed the fastenings up her back. “Are ye ready fer what comes next?”

“I'm ready. As long as everything is where Uncle Sean says it will be, I have the easy task.”

Arran turned her around and kissed her softly. “Nae. Ye'll have Howard Howard with ye,” he drawled, running a finger down her cheek. “Only three eyes between ye.”

Mary took a deep, slow breath. “We should be going.”

“Aye.” He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then visibly shook himself. “Aye. Give me yer hand, then.”

She did so, and he clasped it in his. Together they left the room and headed downstairs to find her aunt and uncle together with Peter and Howard all beginning a light supper in the small drawing room and going over their plans for the night once more. As she took her seat she wondered if their hosts knew what she and Arran had been doing upstairs. As Arran had noted previously, it was a very small, very quiet house.
Oh, dear.

“Good evening,” she announced, too cheerily, as she sat.

“Good evening, my dear.” Aunt Sarah exchanged a look with her husband. “Sean says we'll have a late moon tonight. That should help you, shouldn't it?”

“Aye,” Arran answered, taking the one remaining seat at the foot of the table. “It will. And the two of ye will have yer excuse fer not seeing anything amiss with our spy until morning.”

“I still don't like the idea of coming to his aid at all.” Sean passed a basket of hot bread down the table.

“If ye help him oot, Fendarrow willnae have any reason to disbelieve yer story. We'll nae cause ye more harm than we already have. I'll feed the fellow a tale. Ye just go along with it.”