Page 60 of Rogue with a Brogue
“Arran, if we’re not going to beat my family to the border, what are we going to do?”
“At the moment I plan on hoping they’re on the wrong road,” he drawled. “If they do catch us, I suppose I’ll be ready for however unfriendly they choose to be.”
“You said you wouldn’t hurt my father.”
“I dunnae mean to. But I dunnae mean to let him drag ye back to Calder, either. And yerathairwillnae be alone. In fact, he may not even be along. Calder’s just as likely to have ridden ahead. Him, I dunnae mind shooting.”
She stopped halfway around the long table. “You can’t do that.”
“I believe I can.”
“He’s the Campbell’s grandson, Arran. If you kill any of them, they’ll never stop hunting for us.”
He looked at her for a moment. “I’m Glengask’sbràthair,ye know. I’m his heir at the moment, unless he’s already disowned me. Why isnae Calder worried aboot killing me?” he asked, then winked at her. Whatever needed to happen would happen. Deciding now which lines could or couldn’t be crossed would only make him hesitate later. And that could be deadly.
Mary favored him with an exasperated smile. “I’m certain in Charles’s mind you kidnapped me against my will.”
“Which makes putting a ball through my head perfectly acceptable,” he finished. “And here I am, unwilling to see my bonny lass weep.” He put his hands on the table, leaning in close to her. “Have ye ever been on a fox hunt?”
She wrinkled her nose, which made him want to kiss it. “Yes, once. I didn’t like it.”
“I imagine the fox gave ye quite a run.”
“It dragged us all over the countryside.” She covered his left hand with her right. “But eventually the fox died, Arran. I don’t like this analogy.”
The inn door scraped open, letting a misshapen rectangle of morning sunlight flood the room. “The horses are harnessed, Mr. Fox,” Peter said.
Well, that was poor timing.“They know we’re running and close to where we are, Peter,” Arran returned. “May as well give up on Mr. Fox.”
“But I’ve just got to where I remember it.” The footman took a deep breath. “The coach is ready, m’laird.”
“Get yerself and Howard someaught to eat, first. Ten minutes, Peter.”
“Aye, m’laird. Thank ye.”
He returned his attention to Mary. “My point was that hunting a fox isnae a straightforward matter. He’s a sly fellow, a fox is. And my other point is that once we reach Fort William there’s nae a man who can catch me. Nae in the Highlands.” He grinned at her. “Up there this fox has a thousand dens.”
She stood, kissing him on the cheek. “I will hold you to that. But I think we should hurry, anyway.”
Back outside, Arran clambered up to the top of the coach and unstrapped the lid of Mary’s trunk. Pulling out the riding habit and boots he’d purchased for her, he handed them down to her, then jumped back to the ground.
“I’d rather change inside the coach than somewhere in there,” she said, indicating the inn.
“I dunnae blame ye.” He pulled open the carriage door and helped her inside. “And I want ye to know I’d join ye in there if I didnae have to keep watch.”
With a smile she leaned out the door. “If you did join me I’d never manage to get dressed.”
He tilted his face up and kissed her. “I ken ye wouldnae,” he murmured, lust tugging at him again. Arran caught the front of her gown, holding her there. “Ye know ye’re mine, lass.”
Green eyes sparkled. “And you’re mine.”
Slowly he released her again. “Aye. That I am.”
When she shut the door he leaned back against one of the coach wheels. Generally he enjoyed problem-solving. If Ranulf wanted to build a new school, he would be the one to find the location that would be the most easily accessible to the most children of the MacLawrys’ cotters; he would hire the builders, and he would find a teacher who could tame—but not break—wild Highlands children.
But that had been before. Now the problem involved keeping away from Ranulf, along with all the MacLawrys and all the Campbells. And, if possible, keeping them from killing each other. The best solution he could think of would be a great-grandchild for the Campbell, with him and Mary wed and established somewhere neutral. Yes, he could likely bribe some Sasannach priest to marry them without the banns being read or a license procured, but a wedding of this import needed to be performed in Scotland, and by a Scot. Aside from that, in Scotland they wouldn’t need a Canterbury marriage license at all.
All of that, though, hinged on the two of them actually making it to Scotland. And whatever he said about foxes and fox hunts, the odds of that did not look good. On his own he had little doubt that he could outride and outmaneuver the Campbells, and likely remove a few of them from the hunt permanently. But he wasn’t on his own. And if Lord Fendarrow appeared and ordered Mary to return with him—and especially if he promised she wouldn’t have to marry Charles Calder—Arran wasn’t entirely certain she would refuse.
