Page 16 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“Aye, a wee one, it’s said. Ye’ll nae find a fighting man with a great beard like that. Ye’d make it too easy for yer opponent to grab onto yer head and lop it off. Yer head, I mean—nae the beard.”
“That’s a fine enough explanation for me,” Charlie put in. “Valense, a wee beard only. No one cares about your weak chin but you.”
“It’s not—”
“Perhaps I could show MacTaggert about the theater,” Persephone suggested, rising. “And perhaps I can convince him to give us all a few pointers in sounding Scottish.”
“Yes, do that, Persie. You don’t have any lines until scene five, anyway,” Charlie Huddle said. “I owe you for disposing of Claremont, Highlander, but please make this brief. You’re disrupting rehearsal.”
“Oh, let him stay,” Jenny protested, shrugging her shoulder to lower the already sagging sleeve of her bohemian-style gown. “I could convince him to teach us all his accent.”
Persephone put a hand on the giant’s arm. “Come, MacTaggert, before the three witches begin ripping off your clothes.”
He nodded amid the general laughter and followed her toward the front of the stage. She loved the day the preparations for a new play began, with the arrival of additional workmen and new actors, the smell of sawdust and paint, the hammering and sawing and costume fittings, and the snippets of dialogue as the actors tried on their characters for the first time.
“It wasnae my intention to walk into the middle of allthat,” the giant rumbled from behind her. “I’d rather have had a word or two with ye and be gone, but I was waylaid by the carpenters trying to stand a forest upright, and ye’d nae arrived yet.”
She faced him once they’d moved far enough away from the rehearsal to chat without being overheard. “You’ve been helping assemble a forest?”
“Aye. Birnham Wood, I reckon. I helped ’em put it up on some wee wheels so they wouldnae have to carry it about.”
Wheels on the forest. A rather brilliant idea, really—and one that might stop the stagehands from tripping all over each other during what was meant to be a thrilling scene. “The wheels were your idea, then?”
“Aye. That set of trees last night nearly killed me backstage, so I reckoned to—”
“You’re very charming.”
“Nae.” He shook his shaggy head. Wild, he looked. Untamed. It was quite enticing. And arousing. “My youngest brother, Niall, is the charming one. I’m the MacTaggert who generally speaks my mind. For example, I’m meant to be in Hyde Park this morning, but my mount carried me here instead. I reckon I’ve nae complaints about that. Do ye?”
Was he just another one, then? Another powerful man who would do her a favor or purchase her a bauble, and expect something in return? Was he only negotiating her price right now? If he’d been just Coll MacTaggert, she would know better where she stood. A title, though, complicated everything, and he had one. “Is that who you’re playing, then?” she asked a little sharply.
He tilted his head, a lock of his unruly, umber-colored hair straying over one of his green eyes. “I beg yer pardon?”
“Your act,” Persephone clarified. “You’re the affable,slightly dim lad from yonder Highlands, blundering about with what seems to be simple good luck and yet arriving exactly where and when you mean to be without making a point of it, putting everyone at ease because it suits you to do so, though with a hint that you could be much more formidable if you wished.”
Both pretty emerald-colored eyes narrowed just a touch. “Have I done someaught to offend ye, Mrs. Jones?”
“You lied to me. You’re not just Coll MacTaggert. Viscount Glendarril, is it not?”
He sighed. “I’m Glendarril. But I chose nae to throw that about. I dunnae need it hanging about my neck to make a lass notice me. So, I didnae lie. I just didnae add any decorations.” The viscount studied her for a brief moment. “And what color is yer hair,Mrs. Persephone Jones? I reckon I’m nae the only one playing a role.”
Well, that shot went very close by her heart. But he was only striking out because she’d hit first, she reminded herself. “I value my privacy,” she said aloud, shrugging. “I dislike being hounded as I go about my day. And I prefer lodgings where I’m not likely to be propositioned while I’m pruning my roses.”
“I could keep ye from being hounded.” Leaning back against the wall, he folded his arms across his chest.
In response to his coiled, predator’s ease, slow lightning coursed across her scalp, down her spine, and between her thighs. “And who will keepyoufrom hounding me?” she managed to say levelly.
“Do ye want me gone, then? Say the word, lass. I’m nae about to force myself on an unwilling woman.”
Oh no, she didn’t want him gone. “Then I suppose there is a difference between you and certain other titled gentlemen of my acquaintance. But I’ve heard that you’re here in London to find yourself a wife, my lord. Are youcertain you wish to waste your time pursuing me?” Even if she felt tempted. Even if being in his embrace would feel… safe. And very arousing.
He gave a quick grin. “Truth be told, it’s my mother, Lady Aldriss, who wants me wed. She and my da signed an agreement back before she fled the Highlands. If my brothers and I dunnae wed before my sister, there’ll be consequences we cannae afford. And Eloise is to wed in a wee bit less than four weeks.”
“Then why the devil are you here bantering with me?”
“I told ye I was in Hyde Park. But then I offended a lass without meaning to, and I rode off to wait for a different set of lasses to come by. Then I ended up here. I’ll go back eventually, because I’ve a duty to do so. This morning, though, I’m here.”
“I understand your objections to being forced to marry, but consequences are consequences.”
