Page 79 of The Devil Wears Kilts
It took all her effort to keep her expression mildly curious. “Goodness, that sounds dire,” she commented. “What makes you say such a thing to a complete stranger, Mr. Calder?”
“Because it’s important. The MacLawrys might claim blue blood for some favor an ancestor did for a king three or four hundred years ago, but these days they’re little better than animals. They don’t deserve their land or their title, and they damned well don’t belong among the good people of Mayfair.”
Charlotte wanted to hit him. The very thought stunned her, but she was fairly certain no mere set of sharply crafted words could adequately describe how very angry he was making her. How dare he insult Ranulf? By association he’d insulted her, as well, but that didn’t matter. The deep slight to Ranulf, however, did. “If you have proof of any of this, why did you approach me? Why not my father, or the courts, or the Regent?”Ha.She was not as gullible or naïve as he clearly seemed to think her.
“Because it’s you I see him hanging about, my lady. You’re always on his arm, and it’s you he watches from across the room. You therefore seem more in need of a warning than anyone else.” He offered her a slight frown. “For your own good, you should stay well away from him and his kin.”
By now she expected the warning, but Charlotte was still somewhat surprised he had the nerve to deliver it. “Well,” she returned, deepening her careful smile, “I shall certainly keep what you’ve said in mind. Considering that I’m much better acquainted with the MacLawry family than I am with you, however, you’ll have to forgive me if I attribute most of what you say to some sort of jealousy or a private vendetta.”
His grip on her hand tightened, then relaxed again. “That would be a mistake. You don’t want to be caught up in this. Blood’s spilled over it before, and I imagine it will again.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And now threats. To me.”
His sympathetic expression faltered. “My lady, I think you mis—”
“I don’t think I’ve misinterpreted anything, Mr. Calder. You’re either trying to frighten me, or to convince me to tell Lord Glengask about this conversation in order to incite him to action. I won’t call you a coward, sir, but I will ask that you henceforth keep your opinions to yourself.”
The forgettable brown eyes stared holes straight through her. “You’re about to step onto dangerous ground, Lady Charlotte,” he muttered. “Perhaps you should speak to your family before you continue. They may not agree with your conclusions.”
No, they likely wouldn’t. And neither did she wish to see them put in danger simply because she had an overwhelming desire to tell Charles Calder to go to the devil. She lifted her chin. “Before you begin declaring English families with unblemished reputations to be your enemy, you might consider the ramifications of your actions. We don’t like to be threatened.”
She put every ounce of regal affront she possessed into the comment, and had the satisfaction of seeing him blink. If Ranulf required proof that words could carry more weight than blows, this was a prime example. As the waltz came to an end, she pulled free and backed away.
Before she could turn away and make her escape, though, Calder stepped forward and took her hand again, bowing over it. “You, my lady, are a bitch and a shrew,” he murmured, “dried up, on the shelf, and so desperate for a man you’re willing to become a Highlander’s whore.” He straightened, releasing her fingers. “And I dare you to tell him I said that.”
For a moment she couldn’t even move. No one—no one—had ever spoken to her like that. She felt almost as if she had been physically slapped and thrown to the ground and stepped on. Finally, before anyone could wonder why she stood alone in the middle of the dance floor, she forced herself to turn and walk back toward her parents.
Was this a challenge to her philosophy, or the means by which Ranulf would fail to live up to it? He would kill Calder for saying that to her. At the least, the ensuing brawl would utterly ruin his reputation in London. And where her father was concerned.
“Ye look pale as a banshee,” he said, walking up and offering his arm.
She took it gratefully. “He’s quite an awful man.”
“Aye. That he is.” They walked a few feet in silence. “Are ye not going to tell me what he said, then?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. It was just words.”
Ranulf stopped, bringing her up short beside him. “What was just words?” he asked crisply.
She would have to tell him something, if only for his own safety. And if she concealed the truth, it didn’t mean that Ranulf had kept his word to her about being civilized. It only made her a liar and a coward. “He said you and your family were trouble, and that I would be wise to keep my distance from you.”
“Ah. And that’s why ye look ready to faint,leannan?”
“I’m not ready to faint,” she retorted. “He called me some names. I believe I’ll survive.”
Ranulf pulled her closer. “What names?” he enunciated very clearly.
She met his fierce, burning gaze. “You gave me your word.”
He continued glaring at her. “Aye, that I did. So tell me what he said to ye, Charlotte.”
If she told him, sheknewhe would go straight for Calder’s throat. And if she didn’t, he might very well attack anyway. “He said I was a bitch and a shrew, old and so desperate for a man that I became your whore.” The words tasted strange and filthy on her tongue, and she hoped never to have cause to speak them again.
Ranulf closed his eyes for the space of half a dozen heartbeats. She kept her grip on his arm, even though she knew that if he went for Calder she would never be able to stop him. It felt like minutes, but could only have been a matter of seconds before vivid blue caught her gaze again.
“Just words,” he muttered, and moved forward again. “I think it’s time for us to leave.”
“We can’t, Ran,” his sister pleaded as they reached the rest of the group. “I’ve promised every dance to someone.”
