Page 15 of A Devil in Scotland
Her beau generally showed more decorum and civility upon his entrance than that, but she imagined Callum had a poor effect on everyone. “Is what true?” she asked, mainly to hear what impression her brother-in-law had made since his arrival.
“Belleck came calling this morning, said his valet was huddled below stairs with the rest of his servants and swearing that the devil and his hound had ridden past the house this morning. And the dock’s buzzing about Callum MacCreath and a monstrous black wolf. Have ye seen him?”
“Uncle Callum’s living here,” Margaret announced, feeding Reginald the remainder of his scraps. “And so is Waya.”
Donnach Maxwell pinned the girl with his gaze. “‘Living here,’” he repeated, eyes narrowing. “And who is Waya?”
“His wolf,” Rebecca supplied. “He appeared yesterday afternoon. I had no idea he—”
“Ye told me he was dead, Rebecca.” Shoving a chair back, he dropped into it.
“I said Ithoughthe was dead. As did you. How else do you explain why a man who’s had a sizable inheritance and a title waiting for him would refrain from collecting it for better than a year?”
He looked down for a moment, then slammed his hand onto the table. “Damnation.”
“If you please, my lord,” she protested, moving around to place her hands over an impressed-looking Margaret’s ears.
“What? Oh. My apologies, Lady Margaret.”
Rebecca kissed her daughter on the top of her dark hair. “Go upstairs to Agnes,” she instructed. “Take Reginald with you, if you wish.”
Margaret sighed. “Yes, Mama. Please tell me when Uncle Callum returns. I want to play with Waya.”
Good heavens, what had happened over the past day? Her daughter wanted to play with a wolf,she’dbeen removed from her own bedchamber, and she and Margaret had become prisoners in the home where she’d lived for the past ten years. She sat in her daughter’s vacated chair. “Yes, he’s here. I had nothing to do with it.”
With a deep breath, Donnach nodded, his light brown hair short and precise as his dark green jacket and gray trousers. “Of course.” He sat forward, reaching across the table for her hand. “Then gather yer things. Ye and Margaret will come stay at Samhradh House.”
She blinked, surprised. “With you?”
“Aye. With me. We’ll be wed by the end of summer anyway, and I’ll have my mother come stay as well, if ye like, so there willnae be any scandal.”
“I… Thank you, Donnach. That’s very generous of you. It’s not necessary, however. You know my father left me Edgley House.”
“Aye. I’ll help ye move yer things there, then.” He straightened. “Pogue!”
“No, Donnach. I don’t—”
“I’ll nae have ye in the same house as that drunk,” the marquis interrupted, standing again as Pogue entered the room. “And that’s final.”
“Aye, m’laird?” the butler asked.
“Arrange to have Lady Geiry’s and Lady Margaret’s necessities packed. They are leaving the house.”
“I cannae do that, m’laird,” the butler intoned, lowering his head.
“The devil ye say,” Donnach returned, glowering. “It wasnae a request, man. Now!”
Did he honestly think she hadn’t already considered leaving? “Donnach, I c—”
“Donnach Maxwell,” Callum’s low voice came, and Rebecca turned, startled, toward the doorway. “The first rat to come scratching at my cellar door.”
Callum stood there, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the doorjamb on either side. She didn’t see the wolf, but no doubt the beast was somewhere close by, ready to eat anyone who disagreed with him. She put an involuntary hand over her chest. He’d always been trouble. Now, though, he seemed… lethal.
The marquis stood, facing the door, his hands clenched. “The prodigal son,” Donnach said, making a small movement that might have been him having second thoughts about approaching the new Lord Geiry. “Who dug ye up?”
Rebecca couldn’t blame him for hesitating; Callum had to be two or three inches above six feet now. And where before he’d been whip-thin, somewhere over the past ten years he’d put on solid muscle. She doubted he carried an ounce of fat on him, and he looked strong enough to lift a mountain over his head.
She’d noticed all that yesterday, but he seemed even more… striking with Donnach standing there and hesitating to approach him. She’d always thought of the marquis as tall and capable, but Callum MacCreath was the devil himself.
