Page 80 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
Halfway out the door, she stopped, pushing him back inside and shutting them in. “You do realize that once whoever this is hears that we’re to be married, they may get more desperate. Once I’m wed and my parents can’t threaten me with anything, I will have no reason not to go to them and announce my return. No reason other than my general dislike and disgust, that is.”
“It’s crossed my mind, aye.” Of course she’d thought of that; she had a mind like quicksilver. “And whatever Robert thinks, ye go to them if ye want to, and ye stay away if ye prefer. As far as London and the rest are concerned, I’m marrying Persephone Jones. Ye dunnae need to tell anyone otherwise on my account.”
“You are a very nice man, Lord Glendarril,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes.
“Dunnae be telling anyone else that. I’ve a reputation, ye ken.”
They arrived back at Oswell House in the family’s coach, a quartet of outriders accompanying them. The house was packed with armed footmen and a handful of Lord Aldriss’s fighters, too, who’d begun to arrive a day behind the earl. The more weapons between Temperance and the outside, the better Coll liked it—especially since he’d potentially brought the fight to Oswell House and his own family.
After dinner, he retreated to his bedchamber to find the gray coat, blue trousers, and yellow waistcoat Oscar, the valet he shared with his brothers, had laid out for himtogether with his white shirt. It looked far too civilized and yellow seemed a color for dandies, but he had more important worries than fabric.
He’d had Eloise choose a mask for him; he supposed Amy and Miranda had selected those Niall and Aden would be wearing. While Oscar slipped in and attempted to tie his cravat into something that didn’t look like a horse had stepped on it, Coll pulled the mask out of the silk bag Eloise had left for him.
“Hmm. A lion,” he said aloud, not surprised. He liked the bronze color of it; it went well with the gray and yellow. That thought, though, made him frown; he was marrying soon, for Christ’s sake, not becoming a lass. And he damned well had not become civilized.
Carrying the mask with him, he walked down the long hallway to where Temperance was staying, next door to Eloise’s bedchamber, and knocked on her door.
“Who is it, please?” Flora’s voice called.
“Me,” he answered. “Coll.”
“Coll who?”
“MacTaggert, ye witch. Laird Glendarril, if that was yer next question.”
Flora opened the door. “There haven’t been witches in my family for at least one generation,” she quipped, and moved aside.
Temperance stood in front of the closed window, her back to him. Slowly, she turned around, her midnight blue skirts swirling about her ankles like azure shadows. A blue-and-pearl peacock mask covered her eyes and nose, the fan of feathers arcing across her forehead into the air. With her bright blue eyes glinting and her now red-colored hair twined through with blue and black ribbons, the effect was… magical.
“God’s blood, lass,” he murmured.
“He likes it,” Flora interpreted, clapping.
Coll crossed the room to Temperance. “If I liked it any more,” he breathed, “we’d nae be leaving this room.”
“I was about to say the same thing about you.” Lowering her gaze, she took him in from head to toe and back again. “Is that a lion?”
“Aye.” He put it on, immediately disliking the closed-in feeling. At least it left his mouth free so he could pull in some air.
“That…” She trailed off. “It suits you,” she finally said, and went up on her toes, leaning her hands on his shoulders, to kiss him.
“Ye’re going to have to kiss me enough to distract me from wearing a prison on my skull,” he said, kissing her back, careful not to disturb her hair or her peacock mask.
“I think I could manage that, if you’ll kiss me enough to distract me from remembering that I will be facing my cousin tonight.”
“Ye have a deal, lass.” He leaned closer, brushing her ear with his mouth. “Does Flora know about ye, or are ye still Persie to her?”
“I told her and Gregory a few minutes ago.” She grimaced. “I should have told them ages ago, but I didn’t want to risk anyone calling me by the wrong name. That is bound to happen here, so I wanted them to hear the truth from me.”
“I understand, Persie,” Flora said from her station by the door. “Or my lady, I should be saying now, for heaven’s sake.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Persie is fine. It’s a perfectly acceptable shortening of Temperance, anyway.”
“It is, isn’t it?” The maid smiled. “I always said you had elegance up to the rooftops. Now I know why.”
Removing his mask again, Coll offered Temperance his free hand. “We should head downstairs. Ye’ll be in the coach with mymàthair, Da, and Eloise. I’ll be right beside ye on Nuckelavee. The second coach will have Aden, Niall, and their lasses.”
A few short weeks ago, the MacTaggerts in London had numbered five, and that was including Francesca and Eloise, who both went by Oswell-MacTaggert. Now they were eight, with Temperance for a near-ninth and Matthew Harris ready to make it ten, even if he didn’t bear the name. He would still be family, and that made him a part of the MacTaggert clan.
