The Devil Wears Kilts (34 page)

Her sister looked up. “Char, can you see me in one of these bonnets?”

Charlotte walked forward, tilting her head to look. “I think it’s a monstrosity,” she returned, putting on a smile. “Good heavens.”

Both girls laughed. “I told you she would hate it,” Winnie exclaimed, the slight brogue she couldn’t quite disguise making her even more charming than she likely realized.

“Winnie, I wondered if you’d like to visit your brothers at Gilden House,” Charlotte said quickly, wishing she could just grab Rowena by the hand and drag her out the door. “I’d be happy to escort you.”

“She just saw Arran,” Janie returned, wrinkling her nose. “And Lord Glengask was in such a foul mood last night.”

Rowena, though, slid off the bed. “I was just thinking there was something I forgot to tell Arran.”

“Do you want me to come?” Jane didn’t sound even a little enthusiastic, and Charlotte had to smile at her sister.

“Oh, no,” Winnie said, taking Charlotte’s arm and pulling her to the door. “We won’t be long. Thank you for going with me, Charlotte. I think Mitchell’s still worried that Ran will sack her for helping me flee Glengask, and she’s trying to stay out of sight until he forgets.” She clucked her tongue, and a large gray dog squirmed out from beneath the bed. “Come along, Una. You can visit Fergus. I know you miss him.”

Charlotte asked for the coach to be brought around, and in ten minutes they were on their way to Gilden House. She had no idea how she would say it, but she knew she needed to apologize, and to tell Ranulf that he needed to stop listening to her when it came to managing his fellow Highlanders—and quickly, before something terrible and irreversible happened.

“You like him, don’t you?”

She jumped, looking across at Winnie. “Beg pardon?”

“Ran. I told him that if he would just stop bellowing and ordering people about, you would see that he wasn’t a complete devil.”

“I never thought he was a devil,” Charlotte returned, surprised. “You told him to behave?”

“He’s very witty, you know, and he loves all of us to distraction. But he’s so accustomed to being in Scotland, and he doesn’t know how Englishmen behave.”

“But there aren’t just Englishmen here.”

“You’re talking about that awful Lord Berling. He may not be an Englishman, but he’s definitely not a Highlander.”

“It’s not just Berling, Rowena. And your brother is the way he is for very good reason.” She drew a breath. “I only wish I’d realized that earlier.”

Rowena leaned forward and seized her hand. “You didn’t turn him away, did you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Because he’s quite smitten with you. No one else ever talks back to him, you know. Except for me. And even I always end up doing as he says—except for coming here. And I know he wants me to marry Lachlan MacTier, and I thought I wanted that, too, but now that I’ve been here I think maybe Lachlan might not be the right man. He thinks I’m just a wee bairn, you know, and there are men here who definitely know I’m a young lady. Some very handsome men.”

Oh, dear. She would have to tell Ranulf about this, too, then. But there were other things that he had to know first. She wanted him to know that she didn’t love him in spite of his so-called devilish ways, but because of them. Because as much as he wanted to keep his family and friends safe, she wanted the same for him.

Chapter Sixteen

Arran stared at him. “What do ye mean, ye want to sit down with the Campbell?” he asked, his face going alarmingly pale.

“We’ve been feuding fer better than a hundred years,” Ranulf returned. “I think it’s time we had a chat.”

“Ye’ll never make it into his castle alive. And if ye did, ye damned well wouldnae make it oot again.”

“So ye’d rather we go on as we are? They take one of ours every so often, and we shoot one of theirs in return?”

Standing, Arran paced the sitting room. “Ye’ve lost yer damned mind!” he finally burst out. “Ye know how we survive. We stand strong, and they leave us be because they’re afraid of what we could do to them if they dared strike.”

Ranulf sipped at his coffee, willing the pain in his skull to ease. While he would admit to being tired and having an aching head, he didn’t think he’d lost his mind. Not yet. “We’re likely to gain more ground with the Campbell than we are with the Gerdenses. To talk with them, I’d have to deal with Berling.”

“Ye dunnae need to talk to anyone,” his brother insisted. “If ye go to them, they’ll see it as weakness. Except fer the school fires and an offer to purchase land, they’ve all let us be fer fifteen years. And that’s because of ye, Ran.”

“They’ve let us be except fer Munro being shot by Gerdens-Dailey, and the matter of my stable fire.” He blew out his breath. “I want my family to be safe,” he finally said. “I want to be able to bring a wife to Glengask and nae have to worry every time she goes outside to pick wildflowers.”

“Well, the only way ye’ll make peace with the Campbells is if ye burn out yer cotters and villages and lose enough people that they can call themselves better than we are. And ye’d likely have to sell off a third of Glengask for sheep grazing just so they’ll believe ye.”

“There has to b—”

“And ye’ll nee’r make peace with the Gerdenses, so ye’d only be weaker by half and facing one fewer set of killers—unless the Campbell decided seeing ye on yer belly meant he could grind the lot of us beneath his heel.”

Arran generally made a great deal of sense, and Ranulf couldn’t find fault in any of his reasoning this time, either. “Then what do ye suggest I do?”

“I suggest ye stop letting those
amadan
insult ye, for one thing, and that ye start thinking again with yer brain and not yer cock. The stronger ye are, the more likely they are to leave us be. And that’s what’ll make us safe.”

“And if I cannae go aboot thrashing people fer no good reason?”

“Then think of a good reason, Ranulf. Fer God’s sake. Ye’ve never thrown a punch for any but a damned good reason before now, anyway.” His brother slammed his fist into the back of a chair. “If she has ye gelded now, we’ll all be dead by winter.”

Ranulf shot to his feet. “Enough!”

“Why? Ye cannae hit me, or yer lass will frown at ye.” Arran jabbed a finger in his direction. “And the minute the Campbells or the Gerdenses or anyone else realize that, we’re all done for.”

He knew Arran was correct, and he knew he was being foolish to let a lass dictate how he conducted his business. After all, he’d lived this life. She hadn’t. “I want her in my life, Arran. I want her to be happy, and I want her to be safe.”

Arran looked at him. “I dunnae think ye can have all three, Ran. Two of them, perhaps. But not all three.”

“And I think ye’re wrong.”

The sitting room door opened, and Rowena pranced into the room. Immediately the whole house felt lighter, more like home. The unexpected sight of his sister made him smile; Rowena never seemed to have both feet on the ground at the same time. “What are ye doing here,
piuthar
?” he asked, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Can’t a sister visit her brothers?” she returned with a grin. “Arran, take me for a walk.”

“I’ll go with ye,” Ranulf said, heading for the door.

“No you won’t. I left you a present in your office. When we get back you can tell me if you like it.” Grabbing Arran’s hand, she half dragged him into the hallway.

Ignoring for the moment the fact that no one was supposed to set foot in his office without his permission, Ranulf watched them down the stairs into the foyer and out the front door. He could hear Una and Fergus in the morning room chasing each other and likely breaking things. “Owen,” he called down to his footman-cum-butler, “settle down the dogs, will ye?”

“Aye, m’laird.” With an oath the stout Scotsman charged into the morning room, where odds were he’d cause more damage than the two dogs combined.

If Bear were here it would be almost perfect. Crossing the hallway, he pushed open his office door.

“Hello,” Charlotte said, standing in front of his tall window.

Her sunshine hair glowed like spun gold. His heart stuttered, then sped to twice its normal speed. Now only Bear’s absence from London kept this moment from absolute perfection. Wordlessly he crossed the room, not stopping until he had her wrapped in his arms. Leaning down, he kissed her sweet, upturned mouth.

“Hello,” he murmured back, kissing her again. Oddly, all the anger and frustration that had been biting at him simply fled, as if they couldn’t withstand the sunlight of her smile. Perhaps she had a bit of witch in her, after all.

“Arran said you weren’t coming by today.” Charlotte brushed hair from his eyes. “But I wanted to see you.”

“I’m nae complaining aboot that.” He took her hand, twining her long, elegant fingers with his broad, callused ones. “Come with me to the sitting room.”

She leaned against his shoulder, the intimacy and trust she showed astonishing him all over again. To protect her, he would do anything. No price was too great to pay. He would find a way, because being without her was simply unacceptable. Unimaginable. Intolerable.

Yowling and barking and crashing echoed up from the morning room as they crossed the hallway. “Are ye dead, Owen?” he called.

“Nearly, m’laird. Not quite.”

“Ye and yer ghost stay clear of the sitting room.”

“Aye, m’laird!”

Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand, laughing silently as he closed the door behind them. He grinned at her. “Now, what brings ye here,
leannan
?”

“First, kiss me again.”

“Ye’ll get nae argument from me.” Cupping her cheeks, he kissed her in a tongue-tangling rush that left him breathless. “Are ye certain all ye want is a kiss?”

“Oh, I want more than that,” she breathed, her arms loose around his shoulders as she gazed up at his face. “Tell me how you say ‘handsome.’”

“Brèaghe.”

“You’re very
brèaghe,
Ranulf MacLawry.”

“And I find ye
àlainn,
” he returned, kissing her softly. “Ye’re a fine, bonny lass, Charlotte Hanover. And now tell me why ye needed to see me.”

She took a heavy breath, plucking at his cravat. If she, of all people, was hesitant to tell him something, it couldn’t be good. A chill settled into his heart. Had she decided that he wasn’t what she wanted? That his way of life was too dangerous for her, even if he meant to change it? The worst part of it was that he already knew it was true—no sane woman less than desperate for a title could possibly wish to risk marriage to the chief of Clan MacLawry.

“Just tell me,” he whispered, “for Saint Andrew’s sake.”

The briefest of smiles touched her mouth. “I plotted out Glengask on a map,” she said, her gaze still fixed on his chest. “It’s enormous.”

He hadn’t expected that. “Aye?” This damned well wasn’t about greed, so what was she getting at?

“I also plotted out your neighbors’ lands. You’re surrounded by rival clans.”

Ah. This was about the lack of safety he could promise her, then. So be it. “What say ye finish yer tale in a bit, Charlotte?”

“I—”

He captured her mouth with his. With every ounce of his being he wanted her in his life, for the rest of his life. But with that same conviction he knew that no matter what he did, he couldn’t keep her as safe as she would be in London, as safe as she would be with someone like Lord Stephen Hammond. But by God he wasn’t going to let her go without loving her one more time.

“Ran, you n—”

Pulling loose the ribbons at the back of her pretty brown and yellow gown, he yanked the dress down her shoulders and took her right breast into his mouth, sucking and flicking the nipple with his tongue. He caressed the other one with his free hand, squeezing and tugging until she gasped and arched her back against him.

Freeing her arms from the muslin, he pulled her gown down around her hips and let it fall to the floor. Then he took her mouth again, freeing his hands to unbutton his trousers and throw off his coat. The rest of his clothes could wait. He wanted her, needed her, now. Nothing else mattered.

Lifting her in his arms, he laid her on the narrow couch and climbed over her, thrilling when she reached up to grab his shoulders and pull him closer for another kiss. Before she could regain her sanity he nudged her knees apart and pushed himself inside her, fast and deep.
Mine,
he thought fiercely. For these few moments she belonged to him, as utterly as he belonged to her.

She came immediately, shivering around him, making him even harder, drawing him in deeper. Keeping his gaze locked on her face, he entered her again and again and again, until he couldn’t hold back any longer and spilled himself inside her.

Breathing hard, he lowered his head against her shoulder. That was all he could do. He couldn’t lock her away any more than he could lock the world away. All he could do was love her, and let her go. Even if it killed him.

“Ran,” she whispered, drawing her fingers through his hair, “I think I was wrong.”

He kept his eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. She’d come to say it, and he’d let her do so. “Tell me,” he forced out.

“You’re not from London,” she said quietly, idly playing with his hair in a way that brought warm shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“Aye. I’m aware of that.”

“What you do, the way you live, it’s the way that works for you. It’s how you keep everyone safe.”

“But I dunnae keep everyone safe,” he countered, ordering himself to muster some damned courage and lifting up on his arms to meet her exquisite hazel gaze.

“No one can keep everyone safe. But you do a … a damned fine job of it.” She grimaced. “Three men tried to bait you into a fight last night. And I think the second two tried it only because you didn’t make the first one back down.”

Something odd seemed to be happening. Ranulf reluctantly pulled out of her and climbed to his feet, fastening his trousers and then offering her a hand to help her sit up. He collected his dark gray coat off the floor and gave it to her. It was far too big for her, nearly swallowing her when she put her arms through the sleeves, but seeing her covered up did help his brain to function a bit better. Straightening his shirt, he sat on the couch beside her.