Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Eleven

“W hat in blazes are ye doing?” Beatrix’s father said to her as she stood in the entry hall supervising the trunks being carried downstairs the following morning. Lady MacGlory and Aunt Harriet had just finished their breakfast and were walking out of the dining room in time to hear him growling at her.

“We are leaving,” Lady MacGlory said with a defiant gleam in her eyes. “And you cannot stop us, my lord.”

“Ye’re my wife. I can stop ye from doing anything I dinna wish ye to do. Same goes for ye, Beatrix. Ye’re my daughter and not of age to run off without my permission.”

“You are wrong, Papa. Oh, perhaps you can order our trunks to be returned upstairs. They are but things to be pushed around and dragged from here to there. But I am not a thing . You cannot order the same of me.”

“Nor can you stop me,” Lottie intoned. “You made your feelings abundantly clear last night. I am not your wife. I am your nothing . Since I am nothing to you, it naturally follows that you cannot tell me where to go or what to do because I do not exist to you.”

“Lottie,” he said, sounding sincerely anguished. “Have I ever treated ye badly? Have I ever deprived ye of food? Clothing? A fine home? Carriages? Jewels?”

“No, my lord. You have provided for me in every material way possible. You have given me many things. Very pretty things. But you have not given me anything of yourself. Do you see a theme developing? You have given me nothing of you. Indeed, was there ever a day, an hour, or a moment when you cared that I existed? I will give you the answer since your mouth is agape, and you cannot seem to form the words. No. You never did. And now I am relieving you of the burden of having me around.”

“Lottie!”

“I shall be at Stonehaven with Beatrix and Harriet. Your daughter is going to marry Lord Lyon. It would mean a lot to her to have you stand beside her during the ceremony. But you have not been there for any of us, so I do not see how we can convince you to actually do something for us instead of for yourself.”

He turned to Beatrix, obviously frustrated and wanting them both back in the neatly ordered world he had created for himself. “Beatrix! You will not marry that man! Blast it! Have yer bags sent back upstairs at once! Do ye hear me?”

“Why are you shouting at me, Papa? I can hear you perfectly well.” She nodded at the footmen to continue bringing their baggage down to Lucas’s waiting coach. Lucas was out there with Holmes, trying to figure out where all their belongings would fit.

The Duke of Mar’s carriage had also pulled up in front of their home, and the two brothers were now trying to work out the precise mathematical angles necessary to squeeze trunks and people into the limited spaces.

It was a distinct possibility they would require a baggage cart.

Her father’s face became an alarming shade of red as he quietly turned apoplectic. “What of Lord Greenock? Will ye now just toss him away, Beatrix?”

“As you have done with me all these years?” She sighed and shook her head. “Oh, Papa. I know you love us. But we need you to show it from time to time. As for Greenock, he will soon announce his betrothal to Sally MacRaine.”

He shook his head in confusion. “The wool merchant’s daughter?”

“The very one.”

Her father could not stop gaping at her. “You are quite mistaken. He will have nothing to do with that family. He is a marquess. She is a commoner.”

“She is an heiress. And he is a fool mired in debt. But I think she rather likes him. I don’t know how she can. However, she claims to see something valiant in him that has eluded us all. I certainly hope he has hidden depths. I like Sally and wish her to have a happy marriage.”

“This canno’ be happening. Am I dreaming? What nightmare have I fallen into?”

Aunt Harriet rolled her eyes. “Do wake up, MacGlory. It is long past time you did.”

Beatrix muttered her agreement. “After you left Lady Fraser’s ball in a whirl of rage, Lucas and I spoke to Lord Greenock about Sally. As you said, he wanted nothing to do with her at first. But once Sally and her father joined us in the study, he quickly saw the advantage to their union. Mr. MacRaine is a wealthy man, and Sally is his only child. I think you can see where this is going?”

Her father groaned. “How is this different from yer situation? Are ye not my only child? Am I not a wealthy man? Why should he take her over ye?”

“Because he cannot have me. I am meant for Lucas. You need not bother spreading more lies about him and Lady Marjorie. I know his character, and there is nothing you can say to change my mind about marrying him.”

Holmes came to the door to let them know the carriage was ready.

Lady MacGlory kissed Beatrix’s father on the cheek. “Enjoy your solitude, my dear.”

Beatrix hugged him. “Wake up, Papa. See what you have been missing all these years.”

Harriet merely harrumphed.

Posy barked at him.

Lucas was helping the footmen secure the last of the bags but hopped down from the carriage as they walked out. “How is Lord MacGlory?”

“Stunned,” Lottie responded. “It will do him good to feel the loneliness.”

Beatrix nibbled her lip, hoping their ploy would work. She would feel awful if her father did not come after Lottie. She did not care about herself. She had Lucas now.

Lottie patted her hand. “Do not fret for me, Beatrix. I am prepared for whatever may happen between your father and me.”

Lucas assisted the elder ladies into the carriage and then turned to Beatrix. “Let me help ye in, love. I am sorry ye did no’ have more time with him. This is by no means the end. Ye know I will work to patch things up between the two of ye because it is important for yer happiness. But dinna expect a miracle. He is overset, and ye canno’ push him to change overnight. So enjoy this week with me in Stonehaven. We’ll deal with him when we return.”

Cheyne came over and heard the last of their conversation. “Aye, Lady Beatrix. Dinna let him cast a pall of misery over everything ye do.” He turned to Lady MacGlory. “Ye needn’t worry either. We shall do what we can to help ye as well.”

Lottie nodded. “Thank you. I will be calmer once we are on the road.”

Beatrix waved to Matthew and Danielle, who were riding with the Duke of Mar, and then climbed into Lucas’s coach. He settled beside her and laughed when Posy immediately hopped off Aunt Harriet’s lap and climbed onto his. “I missed ye, laddie.”

Posy jumped up and licked him on the chin.

Lucas tickled him behind the ears.

Both carriages rolled through Canongate and out of the city proper. “We’ll make it as far as Dundee today,” Lucas explained. “Then Stonehaven by the following evening. Cheyne’s man has gone ahead to make arrangements at one of Dundee’s finer inns.”

“Lottie,” Beatrix said when she noticed her stepmother suddenly turn quiet, “would you prefer a room to yourself, or would you mind if I shared it with you?”

“I would like sharing with you very much. I have never been on my own before. It is a bit frightening, isn’t it?”

Beatrix nodded sympathetically. “It tore my heart to pieces when Papa sent me away after my mother died. But I had Aunt Harriet and Lord Rochester to see me through the worst of it. I know you also tried your best to have him bring me back.”

Lottie dabbed at her eyes. “My meddling only made things worse.”

“You tried, and that is all one can do. Things will work out. You have us to fall back on if needed. We are family.”

Lottie’s relief was noticeable. “Thank you, Beatrix. I do not deserve your kindness. I think I should have tried harder to make him see reason.”

“Do not start blaming yourself for his obstinacy. We have all tried to make him come around and instead found ourselves banging our heads against a thick, brick wall.”

Her stepmother managed a chuckle. “Yes, this is what he is. Thick as a brick.”

Although she kept up a brave facade, it was apparent to all of them the poor woman was already missing him terribly and beginning to doubt the wisdom of her actions.

Beatrix thought she had made the right decision, but it would be agony for Lottie until it played out.

They all made a point of keeping her distracted.

At the end of the day’s ride, once they had settled at the inn near the Dundee harbor, they parted ways momentarily in order to wash up and rest. But they soon met again to have supper together in one of the inn’s elegant private dining rooms.

Beatrix had looked forward to dining with the Lyons, for she was eager to know Lucas’s family better. She found them exceptionally kind and felt a debt of gratitude, for they went out of their way not only to entertain her and Lottie but also to make them feel welcomed.

Best of all, they regaled her with stories of Lucas and spoke with fondness of their lives growing up in Stonehaven.

Beatrix laughed when she learned what his brothers called Lucas. “You were Mouse? I cannot ever see you as meek or timid.”

“I wasn’t. But I somehow became the family conciliator. Our youngest brother, John, had a way of riling Cheyne. Ye know how little brothers can often be. In our case, John became known as the thorn in the lion’s paw, Cheyne being the lion. They could no’ be in the same room together for more than two minutes before ye would hear Cheyne let out a roar. I was the one who always managed to calm him down before he got his hands around John’s throat.”

“Oh, I see now how your name came about. You were the one to remove the thorn from the lion’s paw, like the mouse in the popular fable. Only your lion was L-Y-O-N.”

He nodded. “That’s it exactly.”

She turned to his brother, Matthew. “What did they call you?”

“I dinna have a name other than my own. I was the perfect child and always our parents’ favorite son.”

Cheyne and Lucas jokingly said something to him in Gaelic, which none of the ladies understood—but even Beatrix could tell it was something crude. His brothers immediately began to pelt him with bits of bread off the table.

Matthew, his eyes gleaming with mirth, responded with an equally unpronounceable string of words in the old Scottish tongue.

“In yer dreams,” Lucas laughingly said and pelted him again.

Matthew returned to their original conversation once his brothers stopped tossing bread at him. “I was also the best at climbing cliffs. But our father was no’ too keen about us partaking of that sport. He was afraid we’d fall and crack our heads wide open.”

Beatrix was aghast. “I should think so. It must have been quite dangerous.”

“Aye, it was,” Lucas said, continuing their animated chat even after their meal concluded. The men were brought a bottle of fine brandy, which they chose to drink in the company of the ladies. Lottie and Aunt Hattie were each given a sherry. “But we were too stupid to care about the laws of gravity or the bones we were likely to break once hitting the ground after plummeting off the cliff face. We were young and thought ourselves invincible.”

“We hadn’t climbed them in years,” Matthew said as one of the serving maids quietly brought over a pot of tea and cups, and a ginger cake for her and Danielle, then just as quietly slipped out. “Cheyne’s wife found herself in a bit of trouble during last year’s Pagan Moon celebrations. We saw her struggling on the cliff with some scoundrel she knew from her days back in Oxford.”

“The fastest way to rescue her,” Cheyne said, “was by climbing straight up the rocks.”

Matthew nodded. “We will no’ be doing that again any time soon. My muscles ached for a month afterward. I dinna think Danielle will be too pleased if I attempted the same stunt this year. As it is, she is no’ too happy about the Pagan Moon ritual.”

“You’ve referred to it several times now. What precisely is this ritual about?” Beatrix asked.

Lucas drank the last of his whisky and groaned. “Och, I was going to tell ye about it later. It is no’ something to be discussed in the company of ladies.”

Beatrix set her elbows on the table and smiled at him. “Now I really want to know. It is obviously something funny because you and your brothers are grinning like hyenas.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Oh, do not get them started on that business. It is naughty…which they think is very funny because they have the mental acumen of ten-year-old schoolboys when it comes to this celebration. But I will admit to being most curious about it, and I cannot wait to watch them prancing like idiots. The Pagan Moon, as Matthew explained it to me, is the last full moon in August. Apparently, it is a magical moon and has been celebrated since the ancient days of Celts and Druids. It requires taking off one’s clothes.”

Beatrix gasped. “All of us? No wonder it is called pagan.”

“Just the men,” Danielle rushed to assure her. “The women only watch. However, I doubt Lady Rochester will allow you down to the beach until it is over.”

Beatrix glanced at her aunt and quickly shook her head. “Nor would I want to be there amid a hundred men and their hairy backsides. Do all the males in Stonehaven participate? What exactly do they do while…undressed?”

Cheyne cleared his throat. “To answer yer questions, yes. Every boy and man participates. The celebrations go on for several days, but this particular ritual only occurs on the morning of the full moon. All we do is take a swim in the sea. Nothing more scandalous than that. The women all gather around to watch us parade by, and they toss a few bawdy comments.”

Beatrix turned to Lucas in surprise. “Do you mean to say all the women in your town have seen you naked?”

“Beatrix!” her aunt intoned, frowning at her mention of the word. Well, she was not the one who came up with this scandalous ritual. But she certainly would enjoy seeing Lucas without a stitch on.

He cast her a steamy glance, clearly conveying he would enjoy seeing her without her clothes on, too.

She blushed and stared down at her hands.

Really, he was wicked.

But she could not deny her excitement at the thought. It seemed only fair when she was leaping out of her skin, eager to see the solid muscles hidden beneath his clothes.

“We dinna parade exactly,” Lucas said, still eyeing her with that ridiculously appealing smolder. “As the Lyons of Mar, we are expected to take the lead in the procession into the water.”

Danielle giggled. “Matthew says all the Lyon men have a red birthmark in the shape of a lion on their bottoms. It is what marks them as a Lyon of Mar. Now I will find out whether he has been telling me the truth or having me on.”

“It is the truth,” Matthew said. “But I dinna want ye staring at my brothers.”

“Yes, my love.” Danielle took her husband’s hand. “I shall fix my gaze only on your magnificent rump.”

Beatrix could never imagine herself holding such a conversation in the finer salons of London. But she adored the open and slightly ribald nature of these Lyon men.

Once Danielle started giggling, then she began to do the same. Soon, Harriet and Lottie had joined in. “What do you think, Aunt Harriet?” she asked while all of them were still laughing. “Shall we take out our spy glasses and perch ourselves on the best overlook?”

“An excellent idea, Beatrix. I shall have Holmes bring up a picnic basket for us. We can sit back and munch on cheese and apples while we spy on them.”

“Och, and my Jenny will be right up there with ye,” Cheyne said “She almost toppled out of her bedroom window trying to sneak a good look at me last year.”

Lucas winked at Beatrix. “Try not to topple off the overlook when ye see me, lass. I know I am quite impressive.”

His brothers now tossed bits of the ginger cake at him.

“Dinna believe him,” Matthew jested. “He is called Mouse because he is a puny—”

Danielle coshed him over the head with her reticule. “Do not pick on your brother.”

Beatrix realized something else. They were all jesting about the rear view going into the water, but they would also be seen coming out…and their fronts would then be fully exposed.

She choked on the sip of tea she was taking.

Lucas knew exactly what she was thinking. “Lass,” he whispered, “the water is fearful cold, so we dinna give the ladies much to see.”

Beatrix was not certain what he meant by it, nor did she understand why Lucas and his brothers were laughing again. Had they overheard his remark? Or guessed what he was telling her?

She had always thought Aunt Harriet and Lottie were straightlaced, but to her great surprise, they were also grinning and chortling.

Perhaps they’d all had a little too much wine at supper.

The bottle of brandy was almost empty.

Harriet and Lottie’s sherry glasses had been refilled at least twice.

Or was there simply something in the Scottish air that loosened one’s inhibitions? All of these Lyon men would feel so stifled by the strictures of London society. Their family name was fitting, for they struck her as fiercely proud lions meant to roam free.

Aunt Harriet brought an end to this particular conversation. “Enough, gentlemen,” she said as she rose. “You have had your sport and sufficiently corrupted Beatrix with your bawdy jesting for one evening.”

Lucas tossed her a saucy look and shrugged.

The older ladies retired to their guest chambers shortly afterward. The brothers took Posy for a walk since he needed to be taken out one last time and was in utter heaven walking among these Lyon men.

Beatrix and Danielle remained in the private dining room having another cup of tea while they waited for them to return from their evening stroll. At her urging, Danielle quietly told her about things innocent maidens were not permitted to know. “Beatrix, do you have any understanding of how men are…built?”

She shook her head. “I have some idea but could not say for certain. Are they very different from other male animals? What was Lucas talking about when he jested about the water being cold?”

“Well, um…let us just say that their male part is sensitive when it touches cold water and it…shrivels. Um…perhaps shrinks is a better word for what happens. Think of a turtle retreating into its shell.”

She then went on to answer some of Beatrix’s questions about the wedding night, although her responses were more circumspect and not quite as descriptive. “I do not want to spoil the moment for you by telling you too much. Lucas obviously adores you and will make this night special for you both. Just be guided by him, and do not be afraid to let him know how you feel.”

Although she still had questions, Danielle’s answers were sufficiently informative, and she was very grateful.

Beatrix did not want to go into her marriage a complete dunce.

Neither Harriet nor Lottie would ever have been so instructive, nor would they have permitted such a conversation to take place. But Danielle had been in her situation not so long ago and understood how she felt.

Beatrix appreciated their unconventional chat. “One would think a little knowledge could be imparted to a young woman growing up and readying herself for the marriage mart. Ignorance is not bliss. Aren’t we better off knowing what is in store for us rather than have us imagine all manner of wild and terrifying possibilities?”

When the men returned, Matthew escorted Danielle upstairs to their chamber, and Cheyne retired to his own. Lucas remained in the dining room with her while Posy was served water and a biscuit treat. “Lass, yer face is as red as a strawberry. What has Danielle been telling ye?”

“I cannot repeat it. Suffice it to say, I now understand what you meant when you spoke of the water.”

He grinned. “I think ye Sassenachs are a lot more prim than our Scottish lasses. Ours dinna think it is something shameful to be hidden from them. They are far more practical and want to learn what all the fuss is about. Nor do we men care if we are seen. We were raised with this ritual celebration, and it is no embarrassment to show our bodies. It is how the good Lord made us and brought us into the world.”

He picked up Posy now that he had finished his treat. “Ye’re a little pagan, are ye not, laddie? I am going to take ye into the water with me. But ye’ll no’ be wearing yer pink ribbons. Ye’ll be coming in naked, too.”

Posy barked enthusiastically.

Beatrix laughed. “Now you have utterly corrupted Posy, too.”

“Och, I dinna think it took much to corrupt this scamp. He’s a wicked, little fellow. Aren’t ye, Poseidon?”

Posy gave another enthusiastic bark.

The large clock in the inn’s entry hall chimed the hour with a resonant bong . “Lass, it’s late. What do ye say we turn in? Let me walk ye upstairs to Lady MacGlory’s chamber. How is she faring? She was quiet throughout supper, but we got her laughing a time or two with our comments. We dinna usually get this ribald in front of ladies. But I think she needed a little shaking up to forget yer father for a short while.”

Beatrix nodded. “She is missing him to the depths of her soul. Yes, she did have a nice evening with all of us in spite of her distress. You and your brothers are a spectacle to watch. You constantly poke and tease each other, but there is so much love between you.”

“Our father called us lions in the rough because of the way we behaved around each other. We dinna just play, we competed, and we were no’ gentle with each other. Cheyne is the eldest and always the one we had to beat. It did no’ matter the sport. Or how dangerous the dare.”

“Lions in the rough. Yes, this is exactly what came to mind for me, as well, as I watched you with your brothers.” She shook her head. “You spoke of John, the youngest. I hope to meet him soon. But your poor parents, what they must have endured to have four strapping boys constantly riling each other. You must have wreaked havoc on your poor mother’s nerves.”

“Och, no. Our mother was a lioness and put the fear into all of us with just a look. Our father was the gentle one, always worrying about what we were doing and if we broke any bones. He tended to our bruises and scrapes. He rarely hit us, but when he did, he was usually the one who cried hardest.”

He laughed and shook his head. “My mother would send us all up to bed without supper. My father would sneak food up to us when he thought she was sleeping. I wish ye had met them. They dinna know any of the wives, but I think they would have approved heartily of ye all.”

He put an arm around her waist as they walked through the still busy common room and went upstairs. His touch warmed her to her toes, for it was just the right mix of tender, comforting, and protective, with a little bit of arrogant possessiveness tossed in.

They knocked on Aunt Harriet’s door first to return Posy to her. The wee beastie immediately hopped onto his pink silk bed and curled comfortably atop his pillow.

Afterward, Lucas walked her to the guest-chamber she was to share with her stepmother. “Sweet dreams, love. Dinna fret or think sad thoughts.”

She shook her head. “I’ll try not to.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Yer father wins if ye are unhappy.”

“I know. I am trying very hard to deny him his victory.” She leaned her head against his solid chest. “He will be denied. I am so grateful for you, Lucas. You have no idea. Promise you will never become a stubborn dolt like my father. Poor Lottie is so sad, I cannot bear it. She will be so terribly hurt if he does not come after her.”

“Let us hope he decides to stop rotting in his unhappy mausoleum and owns up to being in the wrong. If he won’t, then we’ll do what we can to reconcile them after we are married.”

“Do you think we will ever be like them, Lucas?”

“That is a hard question. I canno’ see myself with anyone but ye, lass. Truly. If a terrible thing came to pass and I no longer had ye…I dinna think I could ever remarry. But assuming I did, which is a leap, because right now, it seems an impossibility. But if I did, I would no’ look for a woman who resembled ye and then spend the rest of my days pretending she was you.”

“I don’t think I would remarry either.”

He took her hands in his. “We have yet to exchange vows and are already talking about the sad end of our union. Let’s not have this conversation. We ought to appreciate the time we are given and leave it at that.”

He gave her a soft kiss that melted her heart. “I’ll see ye in the morning, love.”

Beatrix quietly slipped into her chamber and lit a lone candle while she undressed and climbed into bed. Lottie had her eyes closed, but Beatrix sensed she was not asleep. She heard quiet sobs a moment later and sank onto Lottie’s mattress to sit beside her and give her a hug. “Oh, Lottie. It will be all right. Father will come after you. He does love you. He is just too angry at the world right now to realize it. He will come around once he calms down.”

“Thank you, dear.”

But she continued to cry.

Beatrix did not know what to do. Even though they were meant to sleep in their own separate beds, she decided to share the one where Lottie slept. Perhaps it would not help, but she remembered how she had felt when she was a little girl and her father had exiled her to Lord and Lady Rochester’s. Lady Rochester…her dearest Aunt Harriet, had held her in her arms until she cried herself to exhaustion.

She never forgot that kindness, so she did the same for Lottie.

Why did her father have to be so stupid about love?