Chapter 9 #2
He would have continued, but Mary put her palm on his cheek and kissed him.
At least she wasn’t taking her maid’s angry spittle seriously—though perhaps she should.
All of them, himself included, knew he hadn’t done this out of chivalry.
He wanted her. And as she was a highborn lady with a troublesome ancestry, and he an aristocrat with an equal familial burden, matters had to proceed in a certain way.
He’d already bent them as far as they could stand without breaking.
“Three hours ago I’d aboot decided to disguise myself as a highwayman to rob yer coach and kidnap ye,” he admitted. It had seemed too reckless, but it would’ve left the maid out of the equation. “Then I reckoned ye’d likely stop at the inn there to change horses.”
She gave him a swift grin. “I’m glad you didn’t resort to masks and pistols. The footman traveling with me—Thomas—was armed. You might have been shot.”
“I’m hoping we’ll leave behind more confusion this way. We’ll keep to the south and west for today, then head north tomorrow, avoiding the North Road.”
“It won’t matter.” Crawford had evidently decided he wouldn’t gag her again, or at least that Mary wouldn’t permit it. “Thomas and Gordon will send for the local beadle, who will call out the militia, I’m certain. You’ve kidnapped the Duke of Alkirk’s granddaughter, you rogue.”
“I am not kidnapped,” Mary disagreed. “I am escaping. To my grandfather. And aside from that, Arran is giving me the most daring adventure of my life.” She flexed her fingers in his. “You are the most excitement I’ve ever had, you know.”
So she didn’t wish to acknowledge that he meant to marry her.
Perhaps that was burning one too many bridges even for her.
“We’ve been raised to be suspicious of each other, lass.
And ten days is fairly slight when weighed against that.
Luckily, though, I’m a patient lad.” And she was a rather practical lass with a sharp mind and a logical bent to her thoughts.
If he needed to seduce her into deciding that marriage to him was the best solution to their troubles, he was more than willing to do so.
Arran shook himself. However much the maid flapped her gums, he couldn’t afford to ignore her out of hand.
“Is Crawford talking oot of her arse, or will yer people alert the army before they get word to yer athair back in London, do ye reckon?” Because if armed soldiers were going to be riding them down before nightfall, he needed to alter some of his plans.
“No, I don’t think they will. First they’ll search the inn and the land directly around it themselves. Since Crawford’s missing too, they’ll likely have no idea what’s afoot. Thomas will eventually send Gordon—the driver—back to London to inform my father that I’ve gone missing.”
“And your poor mother will be beside herself with worry,” the maid put in. “As will your father.”
“Hush, Crawford. They agreed to have me marry Charles, even knowing what sort of man he is. Yes, I embarrassed them. But I’m also their daughter.
And so I’m not feeling terribly sympathetic.
” She returned her attention to Arran. “Father will ride out to the inn and search there himself. When he doesn’t find any trace of me he’ll likely send word north to the Campbell.
” She paused, for the first time looking concerned.
“They will likely suspect that you’re involved.
And then my father will call on your brother. ”
That was the one thing that had made him hesitate.
He’d spent his entire adult life protecting and defending his family.
The idea that he would be the one everyone blamed for breaking the first truce between the MacLawrys and Campbells in a century haunted him.
But at the moment he could blame Ranulf for driving him to it.
And given his own choice between clan and family, Lord Glengask would likely do what was necessary to protect his new way of life.
“Ranulf’s nearly disowned me as it is,” he said aloud.
“I imagine he’ll curse me and say he has naught to do with any of this, then send word to Munro up at Glengask that I’m nae to be allowed back on MacLawry land.
And to the Stewarts aboot someaught.” And for Bear’s sake he hoped Ranulf wouldn’t try to match their youngest brother with Deirdre.
They might tease Munro about his thick skull, but he was not a fool.
And it would take a fool to tolerate that lass.
“And you still think this is a good idea?” Crawford folded her hands in her lap, her face as compassionate as a saw blade.
“You have nowhere to go, my lady—and no income, no clothes, and no future. And that’s if you do marry him.
If you don’t, you’ll fare even worse than he will, my lady.
For God’s sake, we must return to the inn before it’s too late! ”
Even Mary began to look alarmed. If he didn’t want this to become a kidnapping in actual fact, he needed to make a few things clear to Mary—and without the damned maid looming over them like a dour gargoyle. Arran banged on the roof of the coach with his fist. “Stop us here.”
The moment the shabby old vehicle rocked to a halt, Mary reached past Arran for the door handle. “I need some air,” she muttered, taking the long step down to the rutted road and then striding for the edge of the lane and the small stand of trees beyond.
This morning she’d been desperate. Arran’s appearance at the inn would have seemed a godsend even if she wasn’t rather enamored of him. But the reality of it all was that she had no idea if she was better off now than she’d been an hour ago.
She couldn’t seem to pull enough air into her lungs.
Had she gone mad, choosing to flee everything she knew simply because she liked the sound of Arran MacLawry’s voice?
Had she chosen ruin and poverty and a devilish handsome face over the slim chance that she might be able to change her father’s mind about Charles Calder?
Over the even smaller chance that they could convince Roderick to return and she could be happy with just … ordinary?
“Mary.”
Arran followed her into the shelter of the trees. “Go away,” she said without heat. “I need a moment to think.”
“I’ll give ye as many moments as ye want,” he returned in his intoxicating brogue, pulling at the shoulders of the shabby coat that was clearly too small for him. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Just how ridiculous was she?
“Then go,” she insisted, when he didn’t move.
“I have one thing to tell ye first.” He leaned against a straight oak trunk, crossing his ankles and regarding her coolly.
This was where he fit in, she realized abruptly.
Not beneath chandeliers and gilded cornices, but out of doors, where his tall frame and broad shoulders had room to move, where the wind could lift the coal-black hair from his temple.
“I decided to come with you, Arran. I’m merely weighing the consequences. I should have done it before, but I was so … grateful to see you.” “Grateful” wasn’t the right word, actually, but admitting that she’d been excited and elated and aroused wouldn’t make her sound any more intelligent.
“And ye’re nae so grateful now that Miss Lemon Mouth has soured the air?”
“She made some good points.”
“Aye. I reckon she did. And now I’ll make some.
” He plucked a leaf off a low-hanging branch and began shredding it in his fingers.
“I may disagree with Glengask aboot nearly everything, these days, but he did make certain everyone in his family would be protected, no matter what might happen to him or to the clan. Therefore, even if we’re both banished from our families and clans, I have enough blunt to see ye with a new wardrobe, a horse, a house, and a carriage or two if it pleases ye. ”
“You rescued me from marrying Charles.”
“Aye, after I kissed ye and sent Delaveer scuttling away.”
“That wasn’t just you doing the kissing,” honesty made her admit. “But I don’t want to be a woman who jumps from one man’s arm to another’s. Crawford just made me consider what I would do if my grandfather doesn’t want to see me. Or if he decides I should marry Charles, after all.”
“I’d be more worried if ye didn’t have some serious reservations, lass. I dunnae want ye to see me as the least of three evils, either. I want ye, and I think ye want me. We’ll begin with that. It’s a long way to the Highlands, and we’ll have time to figure oot if we’re … compatible.”
“You’re being very reasonable.”
“I’m generally a reasonable man.” He straightened. “I’ll wed ye, Mary Campbell, but now ye’ve wounded me. If ye want me now, ye’ll have to ask me fer my hand like ye mean it.” Arran flashed her a jaunty grin and then strolled back to the coach.
Mary kept her gaze on his departing backside, then blinked and turned her gaze elsewhere.
No one could dispute that Arran MacLawry was a fine-looking man, but her physical attraction to him had nothing to do with how she meant to resolve her situation.
His appearance had helped cause her troubles.
And yes, she did like him, far more than Roderick and Charles.
But if she decided to make a mistake this momentous, she required more than ten days of acquaintance, a handsome face, and a keen wit.
After all, he’d fled an arranged marriage just as surely as she had.
And so for the moment it made much more sense to say only that he was escorting her north to see her grandfather.
Because everything had been perfectly … pleasant before he’d roared into London.
Predictable, yes, and even dull, but pleasant.
And it could be again, if she could convince the Campbell to do away with the idea of her marrying Charles.