Karen Hawkins - MacLean 1 How to Abduct a Highland Lord Page 17

  “She will be riding today?”

  “Yes, with her brothers. They will arrive shortly.”

  “I will see to it at once.” The butler turned toward the door, then halted. “Oh, yes. Cook asked if you and her ladyship would be having dinner here before you leave for the evening or if you will be dining elsewhere.”

  Hmm. Fiona had given him his freedom on a platter. All he had to do was order the carriage, and off he’d go, out to any number of places where he would drink to excess, throw away his money, and flirt with women who had more hair than wit.

  Yet his victory felt oddly hollow, almost anticlimactic. And after last night’s contretemps with Lucinda, it might be a good idea to spend some time away from gossiping tongues. Staying home would also give him time to find a more compelling reason to discourage Fiona from gadding about in the evenings without him.

  Jack nodded at his butler. “Tell Cook that Lady Kincaid and I will be dining here tonight.”

  “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  “No. That should do it for now.”

  Maybe he should make the evening a bit more special. He could get some flowers from the garden, he supposed. And perhaps a gift of some sort. Fiona might not be his wife of choice, but she was to be the mother of his child. Surely that deserved some recognition.

  His gaze fell on the chair they’d just vacated, and he smiled. Perhaps he’d buy her a new chemise—one made of lawn so fine he would be able to see through it.

  Of course, such a chemise would be delicate and might rip. The thought of ripping off Fiona’s chemise and then burying himself in her made him shiver. Perhaps, if he played his cards well, he could persuade her to wear one of her new chemisesand a pair of boots.

  Jack glanced at the clock. If he wanted to reach the shops and return before Fiona, he would have to leave right away.

  Grinning, he reached for the bellpull. It would be a night to remember.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ah, lassies, be sure ye make good decisions, firm and fast. Those who don’t know what they want get what they deserve.

  OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND

  TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT

  Fiona paused before the mirror in the foyer and set her tall-crowned riding hat at a jauntier angle over one eye. A large ostrich feather swirled over the brim.

  The matching new green velvet riding habit fit like a glove; and the severity of the style suited her shorter form and rounder curves.

  Gregor and Dougal would hate it, she was sure. Grinning, she pulled on her gloves, smiling at John the footman, who opened the door and bid her good day.

  Gregor and Dougal stood at the end of the walkway, holding the reins of their horses. They were both dressed in the height of fashion, simple jewels resting in the folds of their cravats, their boots well polished. Their stay in London had been good for them in many ways, but even more amazing was how well London had taken to her handsome brothers. Especially Gregor.

  Though Dougal was much admired, with his blond hair and dark eyes, it was Gregor who caused the most sighs with his dark angel looks and brooding gaze. She’d even heard one woman say that, if not for his scar, he would look just like the statue of Apollo in the British Museum, and far too good to be true.

  Gregor was leaning against a tree, the reins to his mount draped over his arm. His hat was pulled low, the brim throwing a shadow over the scar that marred his face. Beside him stood Dougal, large and blond, a roguish twinkle lighting his eyes.

  “It’s about time,” Gregor said, pushing away from the tree with a lithe move.

  “I apologize for being so late. I was talking to Jack and lost track of the time.” Fiona shaded her eyes to see if the groom was bringing her mount.

  Gregor quirked a brow. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she said, a mite too quickly.

  Dougal frowned. “What’s that scoundrel done now?”

  He’d smiled and made her heart flutter, had made love to her until she could barely walk, and was the stubbornest of all men. “He hasn’t done a thing. Really.” She pulled on her gloves. “However, I do need your advice.”

  “What sort of advice?” Gregor asked cautiously.

  “About Jack.”

  Dougal gestured to his brother. “You can handle this.”

  “Me? What do I know about relationships? Mine never last more than three weeks.”

  “That’s because you lose interest the moment you tup them.”

  Gregor glared at Dougal. “Our sister does not need to hear such language.”

  Dougal flushed. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”

  Fiona broke in. “Gregor, you’ve had relationships before. You’ve been close with Venetia Oglivie for years and years.”

  Gregor sent her a disgusted look. “Venetia and I have known each other since we were five years of age. That’s not the sort of relationship that would qualify me to give you advice on your marriage.”

  Dougal scratched his chin. “I always thought you and Venetia would make a match of it.”

  “She’s not my type of woman,” Gregor said, sending his brother a hostile glare.

  “I think she’s charming,” Fiona said. “She’s intelligent and funny and cultured and—Oh, you’re right. She’s not the woman for you.”

  “Are you finished?” Gregor asked.

  “She’s plump,” Dougal said. “That’s the real reason he doesn’t lust after her. Gregor has a fascination with breastless women.” Dougal ducked as Gregor swung at him. “It’s true! That Tratham chit is flat as a board.”

  “You certainly didn’t think so when you were chasing after her.”

  Dougal shrugged. “That’s because I was dazzled by her face. After I tore my gaze from there, it didn’t take much time to notice the rest. Or lack of it.”

  Gregor smirked. “You just haven’t seen her naked. She has everything she needs to—”

  “Excuse me,” Fiona said with some asperity. “We were talking aboutme .”

  Gregor chuckled. “Sorry, lassie. Of course, we’re willing to help you as much as we can.”

  “Here’s your horse,” Dougal said as the groom walked up. “Let’s walk the mounts to the end of the street and finish this conversation away from the servants.”

  Fiona looked a little ruefully at her new riding boots. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to walk a bit. She allowed Dougal to take Ophelia’s reins, and they walked out of earshot of the servants.

  Upper Grosvenor Street was a wide, shaded avenue lined with beautiful houses. Flowers abounded, and the recent rains had given the place a fresh, green look.

  She glanced at her brothers as soon as they were away from Kincaid House. “I need a man’s opinion. My marriage to Kincaid is a bit more complicated than I thought. There are certain things we don’t agree on, and—”

  “You wish to change his mind about something,” Gregor finished.

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve noticed that women often have a desire to change men, even the ones they love.”

  “I’ve noticed that, too.” Dougal frowned. “Which is odd, when you think about it. Because if you didn’t like the way a man is, why would you attach yourself to him to begin with?”

  Gregor glanced at Fiona. “Maybe you know the answer to that?”

  “Me? I can’t even find a way to keep Jack from wandering out at night to gaming hells. He feels that since he had no choice in being married, he should be allowed to live exactly as he did before we were married.”

  Dougal shrugged. “That sounds reasonable to me.”

  Fiona eyed him a moment. “Does it, now? And I suppose you’d have no issue with your wife going out ’til the wee hours of the morning, drinking and gambling and whatnot?”

  Dougal scowled. “I’d never allow that! Why, if I thought—” He caught himself and gave Fiona a sheepish look. “I see your point.”

  “So? What would you do about it?”

  D
ougal looked at Gregor, who walked silently as if in thought.

  “Well?” Fiona asked.

  Gregor nodded. “I know what you need to do.”

  Thank goodness.She’d begun to think that asking her brothers for help had been an error.

  “I think you should shock him, surprise him, do what he least expects. Men like an unpredictable woman.”

  She blinked and glanced at Dougal, who looked as disbelieving as she felt.

  He said, “Gregor, I’m not sure—oof!” He hopped on one foot. “Damn you, Gregor! That was my toe!”

  “Did I step on you?” Gregor asked. “I’m sorry.”

  Dougal bent to examine his boot. “You’re ruining my shine, too.”

  “Here.” Gregor threw his handkerchief at Dougal, who caught it with his free hand. “While you are buffing, Fiona and I will continue our conversation.”

  Gregor tucked Fiona’s hand in his arm and continued down the street. “Fiona, you need to challenge Kincaid, force him to see your way of things.”

  “But he gets angry.”

  “Ignore it. In fact, ignore him. No matter how angry he gets, just do what you think is right. He’ll come around in time.”

  Fiona looked up at him, her green eyes wistful. “Do you really think that will work?”

  He patted her hand. “Try it. See if I’m right.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Gregor. I knew I could count on you.”

  When Dougal caught up, they mounted and rode to the park, the sun shining gently from the blue sky above.

  A short time later, Dougal and Gregor sat at White’s, savoring the best the men’s club had to offer. A bottle of brandy sat before them, with a plate of bread and cheese.

  Gregor thumped his glass down on the table. “I think I handled that very well. No man likes a woman who bosses him about, and Fiona already tends in that direction.”

  Dougal nodded. “She’s a bossy wench. Kincaid’s days of peace are numbered. She’ll challenge him every step of the way.”

  “Which she should be doing, if she had any sense.”

  “Women,” Dougal said, sighing. “No sense at all.”

  “None of them. Just look at this ridiculous plan of hers to marry Kincaid to begin with. Pure nonsense.”

  Dougal nodded glumly, toying with his glass. “She did manage to halt the feud.”

  “Yes, but if Fiona and Kincaid are estranged, we won’t have to see him at family dinners for the rest of our lives.”

  Dougal brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He took another long drink. “It’s a pity Alexander says we cannot lift a finger against the Kincaids.”

  “Aye. He threatened to strike us with lightning for the rest of our days if we even thought of it.” Gregor grunted. “Petty tyrant.”

  Dougal looked thoughtful. “Perhaps Fiona will call the bairn Callum. That would be better than vengeance.”

  The idea pleased Gregor until another thought intruded. “What if it’s a girl?”

  “Callumia.”

  “That sounds like a stomach ailment.”

  “Callia?”

  “Hm. Maybe.”

  They were silent a moment, contemplating the addition to their family. Dougal poured more brandy into his glass. “Gregor, do you think Fiona’s sacrifice qualifies as her deed?”

  Though they didn’t speak of it often, the curse was ever in their minds.

  Gregor caught Dougal’s hopeful gaze and shrugged. “Perhaps. It was a sacrifice, made with a pure heart. That’s all the curse requires.”

  “That’s true. The curse doesn’t say it has to be successful.”

  “Aye. We all just have to make the effort.”

  Dougal frowned. “Gregor, perhaps you shouldn’t have given Fiona such bad advice. She’s going to do something to thwart Kincaid, and it might be something unsafe.”

  Gregor scowled and shoved his empty glass across the table. “She’s not a fool, Dougal.”

  “No, but she has a temper, like all the MacLeans. There’s no telling what she might do if angered. Ask Lucinda Featherington.”

  “Bloody hell, Dougal. Must you be the death knell of every good idea I have?”

  “At least I know what I am,” Dougal retorted. “Unlike you, who thinks you were supposed to be a prince!”

  “That’s not so, but I wouldn’t complain if I were one.” Gregor looked into the amber depths of his glass. “Whatever happens, Fiona will find the right path.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then it’s up to us to make certain she does.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’ve only met the late laird MacLean once. It was a long time ago, and I was no bigger then ye are now. I don’t remember much, of course, except for his eyes. Green they were, but dark, like moss at the bottom of a deep river. I’ve often thought ye could get lost in eyes like those. Lost and never find yer way back.

  OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND

  TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT

  “Itrust you had a pleasant ride, my lady.” Devonsgate hurried forward to take Fiona’s hat.

  “It was lovely,” she said, pulling off her gloves and handing him those as well. “I shall try to ride every day.”

  “That is a wonderful idea, my lady, providing it doesn’t rain.”

  “It was beautiful today.”

  “Excellent, madam, although lately—” The butler looked out the window, so as to make certain the sun was still in view. Satisfied that it was, he nodded. “We’ve had more than our fair share of unexpected storms. You might want to take an umbrella with you when you ride, just in case. A sudden storm could be a—if you’ll pardon the expression—damper on being out-of-doors.”

  Fiona, already on her way up the stairs, replied without thinking, “I’m sorry.”

  She slowed in her steps at the silence that followed and looked over her shoulder at the butler.

  Devonsgate was frowning. “Madam, I didn’t mean to imply fault. The weather is merely unpredictable.”

  She stopped on the top landing. “I know. I just meant…”Oh dear. How was she going to get out of this one? “I meant I am sorry you felt you had to warn me about the sudden storms. We have a lot of that in Scotland, so it doesn’t seem odd to me.”

  “Indeed, madam, I have heard that to be true.”

  “Oh yes. We have lots and lots of weather.” She sent the butler a bland smile. “Perhaps it followed me here, to London.”

  “Then we can only wish it will find its way back home,” Devonsgate said. “Shall I send up a bath, madam?”

  “No, thank you. Perhaps later.” She started to turn, then paused. “Devonsgate, do you have any brothers?”

  “Me, madam?” The butler looked surprised at the question. “Why, yes. Three.”

  “Are they older than you?”

  “Yes, madam. Quite a bit.”

  “Have you ever asked them for advice and received only empty-headed drivel in reply?”

  Devonsgate’s lips twitched. “Yes, madam. I went to visit my older brother some years ago and had the misfortune of coming down with an earache. My brother informed me that the best way to rid myself of the pain was to place a roasted garlic in my ear.”

  “Oh, dear! Did you do that?”

  “Yes, madam. At the time, I would have tried anything.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Not a bit. The very next day, he told me that remedy only worked on horses. The worst part of it was, even after I removed the garlic, the scent had soaked into my skin, and it was days before I could come near other persons without sending them running. Even the doctor balked at examining me. I was fortunate the earache resolved itself.”

  “At least your brother was attempting to be of service.”

  “I am not wholly convinced of that,” Devonsgate said with a dark look. “I believe Robert would easily sacrifice my pride just to have a story to tell our other brothers.”

  Fiona laughed. “My brothers have
never done anything that evil to me, though today I asked their opinion of something, and they offered me such ridiculous advice. They hope I’ll follow it and make a fool of myself.”

  “I am glad to see you weren’t taken in, madam.”

  “When you are the only female in a house full of males, you learn quickly.” She shook her head, thinking about poor Dougal’s toe. He really needed to be more attentive when Gregor was trying to pull the wool over her eyes.