Page 64 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
She would be safer in his company. And it would allow him to focus his attention on his brother and the wedding. Yes, it would be quite the magnanimous gesture on her part—or so she could tell herself. “Very well,” she muttered. “But only because I’ve kept you from causing an uproar for days.”
He chuckled. “Mostly, anyway.”
When she looked up at him, he bent his head and kissed her, soft and slow and achingly gentle. She’d seen him angry, though with her he’d never shown more than frustration. Coll MacTaggert would be a formidable enemy, and she was glad—more than glad—that he’d taken her side in this mess. She could claim it was gratitude she felttoward him, but she’d been grateful on occasion before, and these deep yearnings and longings had never been part of it.
“Just don’t expect that your mother will be unexpectedly delighted to see me,” she warned, for her sake as much as his. It would be easy to sink into that daydream, where Persephone Jones could marry Lord Glendarril and she could continue acting while he… well, in her daydream, she supposed he would decide that he did actually prefer London to the Highlands, and he would have no qualms about her continuing to act while he simply stayed by her side at the theater all day and pleasured her all night. Surely that would be enough to keep a man accustomed to hard work and authority more than occupied.
“This isnae about Lady Aldriss,” he replied, kissing Temperance again.
Good heavens. With a last kiss, she pushed at him, and he released her. “I’ll come with you tomorrow,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “But you still need to find a wife.”
Coll tilted his head. “Tem—”
She put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you try to charm me. Go find a damned wife. The sooner, the better. For all of our sakes.”
“Ceannairceach boireannach,” he murmured, his voice muffled beneath her palm.
“What does that mean?”
“I called ye stubborn and rebellious, because ye are,” Coll said, pulling her hand down. “We’re a good pair. At least think about that, before ye prance off to the theater again. I know ye dunnae want to hear it, but there it is.”
“I am not prancing anywhere,” Temperance stated, scowling. “I have an occupation—a job where I work and am paid—and that is how I afford this house, my clothes, and my meals. Simply because you live off your mother’scharity and then justify it by turning around and insulting her doesn’t give you the right to insult me.”
For a long moment, he glared down at her, his green eyes nearly black in the dim light of the kitchen. “I do live off her charity, I reckon,” he said, his voice flat. “And I’ll continue to do so, because her charity also keeps crops in the fields and thatching over the heads of my cotters. Most other lairds have turned their lands over to sheep-grazing and burned out their own people. The MacTaggerts havenae, and we willnae. Even if it means bowing to the will of a Sassenach countess when she tells me I have to marry.” He turned and headed for the door leading to the narrow alleyway and the street beyond. With a yank, he opened it, strode through, and slammed it behind him.
Now she’d done it. She wouldn’t have to fret about choosing between him and the Saint Genesius any longer, at least, and she wouldn’t have to keep her heart locked inside her chest so tightly it ached whenever he walked into the room. She picked up the tray of glasses, grasping for a heroine she’d once played whose heart had been as wounded—but frowned before slamming it down again. This was not a stupid play.
She’d railed against being everyone’s heroine, being some fabled fictional female, and then when she met a man who liked her for herself, she drove him away. Yes, she liked her life, and yes, she’d found a safe place to live and to… be. But the most idiotic thing of all was that shewasn’tsafe. All she was now was alone.
The door opened again. “I’ll be by for ye at noon,” Coll said. “Two of my lads will sleep in yer front room, and the other two will stay on watch. They’ll trade off, and ye’re nae to leave the house without all four of them. And lock this damned door.”
This time the door clicked shut in an almost civilizedfashion. For a moment, Temperance felt frozen on the outside, while her insides caught fire.
He wasn’t gone. He hadn’t left. Coll, the amazingly stubborn man, had bent. She’d insulted him in probably the worst way anyone could—accused him of choosing to live on an Englishwoman’s charity—and he was still taking her to a wedding tomorrow. A wedding where her presence would do nothing but cause him more trouble.
Abruptly, her bones unlocked, and she sagged against the table. She’d known he would be trouble for her, but she hadn’t given more than a passing thought to the idea that she could also cause a great deal of trouble for him. That she had been, from the moment he’d mentioned her name, or her faux name, to his family. And still, he remained.
“Miss Pers—goodness, are you all right?” Flora said, hurrying into the room to put a steadying arm around her shoulders.
“I’m fine,” Temperance lied. “Just a dizzy spell. Would you lock the kitchen door, if you please?”
“Good heavens, yes. Gregory should have locked it an hour ago. Foolish man. How he manages to keep his head on his shoulders, I’ll never know.” Releasing her, the maid stepped over to secure the door. “Do you wish for some water? Or something stronger? I do notice the giant man isn’t here any longer.”
She shook her head. “Give me a moment to catch my breath. Coll is taking me to his brother’s wedding tomorrow.”
Flora blinked at her. “That would make me tumble to the floor myself. His mother is Lady Aldriss, isn’t she? One of the Saint Genesius’s patrons? Oh, dear, I hope she doesn’t send an angry letter to Mr. Huddle. Not when you already have Scotsmen swarming all over the stage.”
Temperance had forgotten that Lady Aldriss not only had a seasonal box at the Saint Genesius, but that shecontributed to the theater’s annual upkeep, as well. Charlie wouldn’t like it at all if one of his troupe made her angry, even if she was his lead actress. The countess wielded a great deal of influence in Mayfair. If she turned her back on the Saint Genesius, others would, as well. “I shall be humble and grateful,” she decided. “I’m curious to see an aristocratic wedding.”
“I would be curious myself,” Flora agreed. “Just don’t be too curious, or she’ll think you’re digging your hooks into Glendarril.”
Oh, it was too late for that. She hadn’t dug in her claws, but somehow, they’d both gotten tangled up in each other. And she was halfway to hoping that neither of them found a way out.
Chapter Fourteen
“Stands Scotland where it did?”
MACDUFF,MACBETHACT IV, SCENE III
