Page 55 of Rogue with a Brogue
He thought about that for a moment. “She didnae precisely act the way my sister’s maid, Mitchell, does,” he said slowly. Perhaps Crawford had been more of a threat than he realized. That was a thought to keep him awake nights.
Mary sighed, her breath soft and warm against his cheek. “What are we going to do, Arran?”
“We stay together. That’s what we do.”
“That’s a nice sentiment, but rather nebulous for a plan, don’t you think?”
With a chuckle he found her mouth for a soft, slow kiss. He could live on those kisses, he was beginning to think. “Nae,” he murmured. “It’s the only thing that matters.”
Chapter Thirteen
Munro MacLawry dismounted from his big gray gelding, Saturn. He didn’t need a view of the sky to know the weather was turning, because the hair on his arms was lifting. Even so, from the front drive of Glengask Manor the black, roiling clouds were clear to see all the way across the valley.
“Storm by sunset, do ye think?” the lean man standing beside him asked, his gaze on the same view.
“Before that. Are ye staying fer dinner then, Lachlan?”
Lord Gray nodded. “Might as well. Cannae have ye roaming the halls alone like a great weepy ghoul.”
“I’m nae weepy.”
“Ranulf and Winnie have been away from here fer better than seven weeks, and Arran fer four. Have ye even heard from them?”
“Aye, here and there.” Arran was the only one who wrote regularly, and even he’d been silent for better than a week. “Ye know more than I, dunnae? Isnae Winnie sending ye those fancy perfumed letters every day?”
Lachlan frowned, turning for the front door as grooms appeared to lead away the pair of mounts. “Ye know she stopped writing me.”
“I’d fergotten. Likely she’s found a handsome Sasannach lord to occupy her. Ranulf has—a pretty lass, from what I hear.”
“Ranulf would never permit Winnie to marry a Sasannach who’d take her oot of the Highlands.”
“A few weeks ago I’d have agreed with ye. But then I also would’ve wagered ye a hundred quid that Glengask wouldnae lose his heart to an English lass. They say being in England changes a soul.” He didn’t know any such thing, but it did serve to explain his oldest brother’s actions. And if it gave Lachlan pause, so much the better. Because so far the viscount hadn’t shown any sign of viewing Winnie as anything other than the pigtail-wearing sister of his good friends. But Ranulf seemed to want them together, so Munro meant to do what he could to help.
The door opened as they reached it, but rather than standing back to allow them entry, Cooper and his shock of red hair came out to meet them. “Ye’ve a note, m’laird,” the butler said, holding it out. “Came by special courier. The lad said it was urgent. I was aboot to send William oot to look fer ye.”
Munro took the missive. “We rode oot to see Duncan Lenox and his new bride.”
“And his sisters,” Lachlan added. “The oldest one, Sorcha, nearly fainted when Bear smiled at her.”
“She didnae. And she’s naught but sixteen. Now shut up so I can read this.”
The address was in Ranulf’s dark, spare handwriting. He broke Glengask’s wax seal and unfolded it. At the first few words, though, he stopped, his blood freezing. “Ran’s office, Lach. Now.”
Lachlan fell in behind him as he strode down the wide hallway with its portraits of ancient MacLawrys, clan chiefs and warriors and statesmen, all of them with thick black hair and steely eyes, all of them sworn to fight to the death to protect Glengask and her people. Campbell haters, all of them.
“What is it, Bear?” Lachlan asked, closing the door to shut them inside Ranulf’s spare, neat office. “Ye look green aboot the gills.”
“I feel greenish. Listen to this. ‘Bear, the Campbell truce is likely broken past repair. I—’”
“That didnae last long,” Lachlan commented. “But ye cannae be surprised.”
“It’s worse than that. ‘I need ye to gather riders and head south to the border. Arran’s on his way north in the company of Mary Campbell, Alkirk’s granddaughter. Ye need to keep him from being slaughtered by the Campbells chasing after him, and ye need to keep him from marrying that woman AT ALL COSTS.’ He capitalized that last bit.”
“Sweet Jasus,” Lachlan muttered, looking more than a little off color, himself. “A Campbell?Arran?”
It was the word “marrying” that caught Munro’s attention. He could see Arran bedding the Campbell’s granddaughter to thumb his nose at old Alkirk and his kin. But marriage? That didn’t make even a madman’s sense. Moving around Lachlan, he pulled open the door again. “Cooper! Fetch me William! And Andrew and Connor. And have horses saddled fer ’em.”
“How many men are ye taking with ye, Bear?” Lachlan asked.
