Page 78 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“Then no, that wouldn’t frighten me.”
“I might’ve waxed a bit poetic there,” he conceded. “Those storms can last for days, lass, with a cold that digs into yer bones and willnae let go. And the Highlands is a great, empty land with more red deer than people. There are only a few grand houses close by Glengask, families of clan chieftains and the like.”
She didn’t look the least bit hesitant. “Tell me more.”
“The village of An Soadh is on my land, down the hill at the foot of the falls, with Mahldoen up higher in the hills at the other end. Handfuls of cotters’ houses lie scattered here and there, by planted fields or farther up on the lake for the fishermen, and drovers and herders tend the cattle. And that’s it. There are nae parades of carriages driving aboot, nae grand theaters or museums until ye drive all the way to Perth or Aberdeen—which we only do two or three times during a year.”
As closely as he studied her sweet face, all he could make out was interest, and a fondness that made his heart thud inside his chest. “I’m still not frightened,” she said.
“Then the only thing that frightens ye aboot my life is me.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid for you.”
“Ye dunnae have to be. I told ye, I’m a changed man.”
“Your sister certainly seems to think so,” she noted, grinning. “I think she was prepared to be in love with Mr. Harold Myers, until you approved of him. I imagine that now she will very soon find him to be terribly dull—which he is.”
“One can only hope,” he said dryly. But he had to concede her point; his first instinct had been to bloody the boy’s nose, but this would be much more effective, and his sister couldn’t blame any of it on his actions.
“The first…” She trailed off, her hazel eyes widening as she caught sight of something behind him. The color left her cheeks. “Ranulf.”
A hand tapped his shoulder. “Glengask, may I cut in?”
He turned to look, and anger slammed into his spine. Charles Calder, the Campbell’s grandson, stood there, his expression arrogant but his eyes speaking of much less certainty. “Nae,” he said, as coolly as he could manage.
“That’s hardly polite.”
No, he didn’t imagine it was. And he was equally sure that an English gentleman would give up his claim to his dance partner the moment he was asked. “Go away, Calder. Ye’ve nae claim here.”
“And you don’t belong here at all.”
“It’s all right, Ran,” Charlotte murmured. “I don’t mind.”
He did. He minded a great deal. And if he held out any longer, everyone would know. Charlotte would know he couldn’t even manage this small bit of civility. Clenching his jaw, he released her and stepped back.
With a grin, Calder moved in and took his place, swirling away with Charlotte in his arms. Rather than watch, Ranulf turned his back and left the dance floor. Every curse word he could think of and in several different languages caught in his throat, fighting him to roar free.No.He wouldn’t allow it. He was a bloody gentleman.
Charlotte’s parents, Lord and Lady Hest, stood talking with a small group of their friends. He didn’t know whether they were oblivious to their older daughter’s dance partner, or if the change made no difference to them. But now that he was far enough away that no one else was likely to notice him staring, he found her red-clothed form on the dance floor and didn’t take his eyes off her. And he continued repeating to himself that nothing would come of this, and that it would be worth it.
Charlotte kept her gaze on the thin-faced man with one hand clasping hers, and the other on her waist. Light brown hair, forgettable brown eyes, and a broad, flat chin that gave him a permanent stubborn expression. She knew she’d seen him before, though as small as the English aristocracy was, she didn’t think they’d ever exchanged a single word.
And as they turned lightly about the dance floor, she began to wonder if they ever would have a conversation. Or perhaps he hadn’t planned anything beyond attempting to take the dance over from Ranulf. Perhaps he’d expected a brawl, and he was now at a complete loss. She rather liked that idea. And silence was much easier, anyway. Heaven knew she had quite enough to think about as it was.
Foremost in her thoughts, of course, as he had been almost from the moment they’d met, was Ranulf MacLawry. Even without looking she knew he stood at the fringes of the room, watching. Probably looking for a reason to step in and begin punching people. Well, she would not be providing him with the excuse. She wanted him to prove to her, to her father, to himself, that he could make his life, rule his clan, without resorting to fighting and feuds and bloodshed and death.
“How do you know Glengask?” Charles Calder asked, nearly making her jump.
“I don’t even know you, sir,” she returned with a slight, cool smile. She wasn’t about to give him information without gaining anything in return. After all, they might not have met, but she’d heard his voice quite clearly an hour or so ago.
“Well, then. Charles Calder, at your service.” He gave a smile that was undoubtedly meant to be charming.
“Mr. Calder.”
“And I know that you’re Lady Charlotte Hanover. Now that that’s been taken care of, how do you know Lord Glengask?” he repeated.
“His mother and my mother were friends.” There. True and innocent sounding, all at the same time.
“Your family has an unblemished reputation, Lady Charlotte,” he returned mildly, his expression except for his eyes becoming one of kindly concern. “And that’s why I think you should know that every one of the MacLawrys is trouble. He most of all.”
