Page 69 of Rogue with a Brogue
“Not precisely.” If anyone would understand her situation it was Sarah Campbell-Mallister, and the idea of having a female ally—especially after the disaster that was Crawford—was very appealing. Taking a swallow of her own tea, she told them how she and Arran had met at the masquerade ball, their secret rendezvous, her grandfather’s decision that she wed Lord Delaveer, the kiss, and her father’s proclamation that she was to marry Charles Calder. When she described the way Arran had rescued her, her aunt actually put a hand to her chest.
The only thing she left out was the intimacy of her relationship with Arran, but she imagined that wouldn’t have been too difficult to figure out. At any rate, they didn’t ask her about it.
“Do you still intend to go to Alkirk and speak to the Campbell?” Sarah asked, and it took a moment before Mary remembered that her aunt was speaking about her own father.
“I think he’s the only one who can stop the clan from hunting us down. My father certainly isn’t willing to listen to me.”
“Oh, my dear, I hope with all my heart that you’re correct. I personally did not find him to be at all reasonable when I told him I wanted to be with Sean.” Sarah sent her husband a fond look. “He gave me the choice of marrying someone of his choosing or leaving and never setting foot on Campbell property again.”
And he’d evidently chosen Roderick for her. “That option would be perfectly acceptable to me,” Mary said feelingly. A few weeks ago she might have felt differently, but choosing between clan Campbell and Arran was barely worth the moment it took to have the thought.
“I only wanted to marry a half-Irish banker, Mary. And I was his third daughter. You’re the only living child of his firstborn son, and you want to marry the MacLawry’s heir when he planned to use you to bring in the MacAllisters. He may not give you the choice of exile.”
Worry skittered through Mary. In her life, in her mind, her grandfather had always been fair and levelheaded, and he’d always indulged her. It was one thing for her father to panic and shove her at the first clansman who asked. If her grandfather forbade her to marry Arran, if he ordered the clan to hunt Arran down…
When she’d initially asked to go to Alkirk, it had been with the idea that the Campbell would save her from Charles, that he would decree her life should be set back to where it had been before she’d met Arran. But now everything had changed. Now she didn’t want to be parted from Arran MacLawry. She didn’t want her old life back. She wanted a new life with the man she loved. The man she adored. The Highlander who’d shown her that life could be exciting and unexpected and passionate.
“I hope I’m wrong,” her aunt continued after a moment. “Perhaps my circumstance was unique. But I thought you should be aware. If you’d left without me saying something, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep ever again.”
Setting her tea aside, Mary grasped her newly found aunt’s hand. “I appreciate you telling me. It’s given me some things to consider. Very carefully. But now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit with Arran.”
Her aunt and uncle exchanged a look. “We can put you in the maid’s quarters with Susan. If your father appears it’ll be a simple matter to get you upstairs again.”
Mary stood, shaking her head as she did so. “Thank you, but it’s far too late to preserve my reputation. And the only reason to do so would be if I intended to make a match with someone else. And I do not intend to do that.”
Aunt Sarah stood, as well. “I’ll walk you upstairs, then.” Wrapping a hand around her niece’s arm, she headed for the stairs.
“I want you to know that I understand the trouble you and Uncle Sean could be stepping into, and on behalf of complete strangers.”
Her aunt smiled, brushing at one eye. “Not strangers. Family who’ve only just met. And I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t part of me that looks forward to besting Walter Campbell. I thought my brother would support me in anything. He did not do so.” She leaned closer. “And if I may say so, your Highlander is very easy on the eyes.”
“Yes, he is,” Mary agreed. “And he’s very witty, and even kind. I’d always been told that MacLawrys were devils, brutes, and barbarians.” She smiled. “I will admit that he’s something of a rogue.” And thank goodness for that. If he hadn’t been, she would be walking down the aisle with Charles Calder in the next few days.
At the top of the stairs, they stopped. “Though we are newly acquainted, I find myself wanting the best for you, my dear,” her aunt said. “And that is why I have to ask if you’ve decided to wed this man because he saved you from an unpleasant match. Because he’s forbidden and you feel tantalized or obligated.”
“I asked myself that at first,” Mary admitted. “In fact, I insisted that he agree to escort me to Alkirk solely to extricate me from my father’s plans. But he… I don’t want to live my life without him.”
“Forgive me, but while I’ve heard you extolling his virtues in several ways, I haven’t heard you say that you love him. And given these circumstances I would think that important.”
Mary smiled a little. “I haven’t used that word because I haven’t said it to him, yet. And Arran should hear it first.”
“My dear, I cannot argue with that. Barring your father’s arrival, I will see you in the morning.”
Kissing her aunt on the cheek, Mary slipped into the guest bedchamber and closed the door behind her. Then she gasped as a figure in a chair by the cold fireplace stirred.
“Come here, lass,” Arran’s low brogue came.
Oh, thank goodness.She hurried forward. “What are you doing? You should be lying down where it’s safe.”
“I had to sit up to eat some stew. I even choked doon a glass of whisky. And I’ll nae lie doon to sleep again unless it’s with ye by my side.”
“Well, that’s very romantic,” she murmured, putting her hands on the arms of the chair and leaning in to kiss him slow and soft.
“Aye. I’m a romantic fellow.”
Mary carefully sat across his lap, slid her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him again. The edge of uncertainty and uneasiness that had dogged her for the past few hours faded away in the warmth of his embrace.
When she settled her cheek against his neck and shoulder, Arran risked shutting his eyes again. He had the balance of a drunken sailor in a storm, but he was not going to hide in some priest hole while she faced uncertain allies. Aside from that, even with his eyes crossing, his ears worked just fine. And so he’d heard every word that she and her aunt had spoken outside the door. He wanted to ask her about it, but it wasn’t the sort of thing he could prompt her to say. She either would of her own accord, or she wouldn’t.
