Page 66 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“I dunnae—”
“Damn it, Arran, do I truly have to remind ye nae to go anywhere that’ll see ye outnumbered? Charles Calder is the bloody Campbell’s grandson!”
“I can take care of myself, as ye well know, Ran. And if ye thought it more important to go mooning after some proper Sasannach lass, someone else had to take a look at Berling.”
Ranulf glared at his brother across the coach’s seat. “I’m nae mooning after anyone,” he stated flatly. “And tomorrow ye can hie yerself back to Glengask.”
“Nae.”
“‘Nae’?” Ranulf repeated, lifting an eyebrow. “I wasnae asking.”
“And I’m nae leaving ye here to watch over Rowena while the wolves circle the lot of ye. Especially when yer mind’s on someaught else.”
That was twice Arran had accused him of distraction. What did his younger brother think he’d seen? Whatever his own intentions toward Charlotte, he wasn’t yet willing to discuss them. And certainly not with someone who’d just arrived the previous day.
“My mind’s precisely where it needs to be, Arran. As always.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But haveyeconsidered what’ll happen tonight when all the duke’s guests see ye introduced as a MacLawry?”
Arran gave a grim smile. “I reckon we might be in for a bit of a row.”
Damnation. “Nae, that willnae happen. Rowena wants a proper Season. And I dunnae want us seen as animals. Tonight we’re gentlemen.”
Rowena wasn’t the only one who wanted a fight-free soiree. The fact that he could attribute the request to her, though, certainly made things easier on him. His sister had given him some surprisingly sound advice, actually, and he intended to make good use of her counsel. He merely didn’t wish to explain to Arran why he was acting as he was.
“Gentlemen. Until she came here, Rowena thought weweregentlemen. And we’d nae have to worry over being outnumbered and burned out if ye’d brought her home to Glengask as ye said ye would. Do ye mean to stay in London all Season, now?”
Ranulf sent his brother a level look. Time was, no one would have spoken to him like that. Charlotte had done so, and everything had changed. Arran didn’t know anything of that, though. Hadhechanged, then? Was it something that others could perceive? If so, he needed to stop. Immediately. A perception of weakness might as well be a death sentence in his world.
“I’ll stay in London as long as I deem it necessary. If ye want to stay as well, then do so. But if ye think I mean to allow ye to continue stirring up trouble because ye dunnae like the way I’m dealing with things, ye’d be dead wrong. This is a different world, Arran, and we need to learn how to navigate it. Nae for Rowena, but for Glengask’s future. And we willnae be accomplishing anything by countering each other’s moves. Are we clear?”
His brother nodded. “Aye. That’s all I wanted t’hear.”
“And I want to hear that ye willnae be brawling tonight. For any reason.”
“Then ye have my word.” Arran sat back, flicking aside the carriage’s curtain to look out at the deepening twilight. “Then we’re not discussing the Sasannach lass?”
“We are nae.”
He couldn’t order Arran to close his eyes to what he saw; after all, he frequently made good use of his brother’s keen observations. If Arran wanted to draw his own conclusions where Ranulf and Charlotte were concerned, no one could stop him. What Ranulfcoulddo, though, was keep him from discussing it. And from offering an opinion Ranulf didn’t particularly want to hear.
“And Berling?” Arran asked after a moment.
“I may not agree with ye, but I’m nae a fool. If ye think there’s a chance someone else is involved, I’ll pay attention. But fer God’s sake, next time tell me before ye slip off to confront someone.”
Finally Arran’s smile touched his light blue eyes. “I can do that.”
Once they’d retrieved Myles from Wilkie House, it was only another five minutes until they reached the tail end of the crowd of carriages surrounding Mason House. As they made their way inside, the noise of the street was replaced by the din of hundreds of voices trying to be clever. If anything, the party seemed more crowded than the Evanstone soiree. Perhaps the guests were hoping they would see another fight. That might well be, but neither he nor Arran would be involved with it. Through it all he listened for one voice, one honey-sweet note of sanity in all the chaos.
“Are we allowed to dance?” his brother muttered.
Ranulf damned well hoped so, since the only reason he’d bothered to put on his best clothes had been to claim a waltz with Charlotte. “Aye. But ye’re nae to step on anyone’s toes,” he returned in the same tone. “Literally or figuratively.”
“Berling’s here,” his uncle noted under his breath.
“Just give him a smile,bràthair,” Ranulf instructed his brother. “Let him come to his own conclusions.”
“I’m grinning. Not at all sarcastically.”
“Ye’d best nae be.”
