Chapter 2
Gordon didn’t know if he should laugh or kill the lass on the spot for trespassing.
Then again, it wasn’t in his nature to execute the insane, and this woman was clearly away with the fairies if she could climb in through his window and then demand marriage from him.
“Marry ye?” Disdain colored his voice.
Although she was a pretty thing. Very pretty.
Big eyes of a color he couldn’t discern in the dim light, skin pale as the moonlight that was suspiciously absent that night, wavy locks of fair hair framing fine features: plump cheeks, full lips, a dainty chin he would have liked to take between thumb and forefinger so she couldn’t look away.
She was short enough that if he was looking straight ahead, he wouldn’t see her. A ripe, ample bosom heaved below the knot of her cloak. He couldn’t see the rest of her figure, but he could imagine it.
An even greater pity that she’s mad.
“I did not misspeak,” she replied, with all the boldness of someone who had no idea of the danger they were in. “Yes, I am asking that you marry me.”
His gaze flitted to the child. A sweet, plump thing with meaty little fists that it was shoving into its mouth.
“Lass, if ye’re trying to imply that the bairn is mine, ye must think I cannae hold me whiskey,” he replied coolly. “I’d remember sirin’ that bairn on ye.”
“What?” Her sharp gasp made a faint ember smolder in his loins. “Oh… Oh, no! No, my Lord! Of course not. She is… She is not mine either. She is my niece. I am… Well, I am untouched.”
He wished it wasn’t so dark so that he might have seen the blush he knew was glowing in her cheeks. It seemed her boldness didn’t stretch to talk of carnal relations.
Although he rather liked the way she said ‘untouched’ in that clipped, Sassenach accent of hers.
He looked her up and down, and contemplated removing her cloak so he could see the treasures underneath.
“Let’s just start with yer name and how ye got here, lass,” he said instead.
She straightened, tilting up that dainty chin. “I am Lady Agnes Norton, youngest daughter to the Earl of Hampton.”
“That’s supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” he asked dryly.
“No, perhaps not, but…” In a fluster, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a leather-bound book.
He had no choice but to move closer to see the title.
Agnes stiffened and took a step backward, bumping into the sill she had dropped down from when she intruded on his slumber.
“What do ye have there?” he said, giving her a modicum of space, just in case she happened to have a dagger under her cloak.
Not that he couldn’t disarm her, but he would hate to kill such a pretty thing for attempting to murder him. It would not have been the first time another clan had sent someone to try their luck, though they were never fortunate.
“A book,” she replied.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I can see that.”
“It is an almanac. Clans of the Highlands,” she explained quietly, holding it out to him. “I found your name here. I assumed you were unmarried, as no such information was mentioned, so… here I am.”
He knew he was missing something. Or she was, where her brain should be.
“I’m fairly sure that’s nae how it works, lass,” he said, curious to know what had been written about him. “Ye daenae open a book, run yer finger down the pages, and pick a husband.”
He took the almanac from her and wandered back to his bed to light a lantern with a tinderbox and taper.
Settling the lantern on the bedpost, he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to flip through the pages of the book. He hadn’t known the English were so interested in anything north of the border.
As he read, he scoffed and snorted. Whoever had written this had an ignorant opinion of several clans.
“Clan MacDingle are affluent?” he sneered. “Effluent, more like.” He glanced up at Agnes, who observed him in utter stillness. “Ye realize this is all nonsense, aye? Whoever wrote this wants a sound beatin’.”
“But I have heard that—”
“I daenae care what ye’ve heard,” he interrupted curtly. “It’s half fiction.”
Her throat bobbed. “But you are fearsome and dangerous and not to be trifled with, aren’t you? You are… a wolf, aren’t you? The man who earned his nicknames?”
He just stared at her in disbelief. What the hell was wrong with her?
Her mouth moved as if she were chewing on the inside of her cheek, contemplating his words.
“Is it because I’m English?” She gulped loudly. “I’ve heard of other English ladies who have made their laird husbands very happy. Why, just before I left England, I read of a woman named Lady Emma who is married to one, and she speaks very highly of her husband. She is the envy of society.”
“So, this is some challenge?” he asked, struggling to understand.
She pulled a face. “No, it is not ‘some challenge.’ I have given this great consideration.”
“Aye, well, it seems to me that ye hear and read too many things,” he remarked as he found the entry about his clan.
And the lass still came here after reading that?
“I can be less English if you like,” she told him. “I have been practicing my Scottish accent for days. It was good enough to fool the guard, so perhaps I—”
Gordon rose from the bed, and her words died on her lips, her eyes flying wide. “Lass, enough with yer jests. Ye’re tellin’ me that ye found a book that says I’m the laird of a cruel, violent, and powerful clan, and I’m to be avoided at all costs, and ye decided to come here and propose to me?”
“As I said, I know of other ladies who—”
His lip curled. “Tell me the truth of why ye’re here, or ye can spend the night in me dungeons. Ye might survive the cold down there, but I cannae promise yer niece will.”
The beautiful woman clutched the mewling baby tighter to her, as if he might be the monster she assumed he was. Her big eyes flickered down to the floor, her bosom rising with a deep breath.
“It is a long story,” she mumbled.
“And ye climbed through me window and woke me up. I have the time to spare.”
She shifted the baby onto her opposite hip.
“It is about my niece’s father. Although to call him a ‘father’ is rather ridiculous.
” Her voice wavered. “He seduced my sister, made promises he had no intention of keeping, and when she became with child, he discarded her as if she were a bit of straw on his shoe.”
Something awoke in Gordon, pacing within him.
“He is now betrothed to a rich man’s daughter,” she continued bitterly.
“And rumors are abounding that Lizzy here is his. I don’t know how the rumors have spread, for my niece has been hidden away since her birth, but…
it is her hair, you see. It is rather unique to him.
Connections will be made, and while I believe they should be made, he does not agree.
He wants it to be as if she never existed.
He wants to protect his interests. Before I left, he threatened to have her sent to a convent, and…
after everything that has happened, I could not allow it.
Lizzy is the last piece of my sister that I have. ”
Gordon listened patiently, while the wolf in him snarled, lip curled, and teeth bared.
“I remembered Lady Emma, the woman who married a laird,” she added quietly. “And when I found your name, your violent merits, I hoped you might be the one to help me.”
Gordon sniffed. “So, what ye really need is for me to kill that bastard for ye?”
“Language!” Agnes yelped, moving to cover the baby’s ears.
“That is where ye draw the line?” He almost laughed, but the angry wolf prowling inside him, behind the bars of his discipline, was in no mood for amusement.
She lowered her gaze, and he knew she was blushing. He could almost feel the heat of it.
“For the baby’s sake,” she murmured. “And no, of course I do not want the man dead. In my head, I have killed him a thousand ways, a thousand times. But no, I just need you to protect us.”
He could well imagine it. She might have been small of stature, but there was strength in her. Strength enough to come all the way here on her own, to face a violent and dangerous laird.
“And ye thought marriage would be the easiest way?” he asked.
Her head snapped up, hope in her eyes. “I have a large dowry. One of the most generous in England, certainly. I can help your clan. Or rather, it can.”
“Did ye miss the part in yer precious almanac where it said ‘powerful’? We daenae need English charity.” Insult hardened the edges of his voice.
“I didn’t mean that you need it,” she said, stepping closer.
“But more money is more money, isn’t it?
And… And I know how to run a household, I can speak four languages which may be of use for trade, and I am reasonably adept at the pianoforte and passable with a viola, though I am atrocious at painting, drawing, sewing, really anything that requires precision, and I—”
“Lass, enough,” he barked, his head buzzing. “The answer is nay.”
Agnes blinked, and for a moment, there was gracious silence. “I assume ‘nay’ doesn’t mean ‘yes’ here. Right?”
“Aye, right.” He extended her book to her. “Ye didnae have to travel all the way here. A letter would have sufficed, so ye didnae waste the efforts of whatever beast ye rode on.”
He would have to speak to the guard who had allowed her in. How had no one spotted a horse or carriage approaching? It was a mistake he could not let pass without punishment.
“Perhaps you are right,” she said, taking the book back.
“I’m glad we agree.”
“But,” she added crisply, “a reply would have taken too long to reach me. And I must make certain that you understand something, my Lord—”
“Me Laird,” he corrected.
Her left eye twitched in annoyance. “What you have to understand, my Laird, is that I had no choice. You said it yourself: I chose the cruelest man in this book, the most violent, the most feared. I didn’t hesitate to trespass or do whatever it took to fool your guards.
Those are the actions of a desperate woman, my Laird, and I am desperate.
I left familiarity, comfort, my home, my aunt, to come to a strange and dangerous place to beg for help.
Just think of how much I must fear for this little one and the peril she is in, if I am capable of all of that. ”
Tears glistened in her eyes and thickened her voice, her words propelling her legs forward, bringing her closer to him.
Does she mean to offer herself to me?
A little thrill ran through him, quickly stamped down.
“Yer tears willnae sway me,” he said flatly. “I daenae care for weepin’.”
“Neither do I, but I can’t stop them any more than I can give up,” she replied with quiet defiance. “I just… cannot lose Lizzy.”
Her sniffles grated on him, cutting through his skull like a javelin as she drew nearer and the sound got louder. Still, at least it helped to cool the desire that kept trying to rise in him. Lust that came from a different wolf within him, more intensely caged.
He glanced down at the baby, noting the shock of vivid ginger hair and a pair of wide eyes.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Ye and yer niece can stay for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll see that ye find someplace safe. But it willnae be at the altar with me.”
“But…” She stepped right up to him, her hand reaching for him.
Before she could touch him, he grabbed her by the wrist. “Daenae push yer luck, lass. Ye’re lucky enough that I havenae thrown ye out and whatever guard let ye in along with ye.”
There was no more than an inch or two between them, her ragged breath stirring up things that needed to remain smothered. If she kept gazing up at him with those big, pleading eyes, he might have to throw her onto the bed instead of out of the gates.
Just then, a hard jerk on his beard snapped him out of any wild and wayward notions.
He blinked and found the culprit—the baby. Something like a laugh bubbled out of her as she tugged again.
Agnes stifled a laugh a few seconds too late and earned a glare for her gall.
“I’m sorry, my Laird,” she said quickly, amusement lingering in her pretty eyes. “Gentlemen where I am from don’t have quite such… luxuriant beards, and she has not met too many men besides, only the staff. She is just curious.”
Gordon grunted and managed to extricate his beard from the child’s surprisingly strong grip.
“She’s fortunate she’s endearin’. Thank her for me lettin’ ye spend the night in comfort instead of me dungeons.
” He paused, frowning as the baby shoved her fist into her mouth again, chewing on her knuckles.
“Is she hungry? There’ll be roast chicken left over from the lads’ dinner. ”
“My Laird, she has no teeth,” Agnes said, her voice laced with amusement. “She cannot eat chicken; she is almost six months old, that is much too young for chicken.”
His brow furrowed, annoyed by his own ignorance and that Agnes was there to witness it. In fact, the sooner he was out of this woman’s company, the better.
“What does she need?” he muttered.
“Well, she had a wet nurse in England, but she wouldn’t accompany us, so—”
“The short version,” he interrupted sharply.
She cleared her throat. “A wet nurse, if one can be found. I don’t think she will manage much longer on goat’s milk and barley paste alone.”
“Come with me,” he commanded, grabbing his folded tartan from the chair as he headed out.
Up and up through the silent, drafty castle, the Laird led Agnes. When they were as high as she suspected it was possible to go, he shouldered open a door and gestured for her to step inside.
“I’ll send someone to help ye,” he said gruffly. “I expect to nae even remember ye’re here. I like me peace and quiet, and ye willnae disturb it again, through me windows or any other way. Am I understood?”
Agnes walked into a spacious chamber, steeped in the inky light of the before-dawn sky and the surprising glow of a crackling fire.
“My niece and I will be as quiet as church mice,” she promised. “Thank you, my Laird.”
He didn’t bother to respond.
With one last frown at the baby, he stormed off back down the endlessly spiraling stairs, the scuff and thud of his footsteps echoing long after he had disappeared from sight.
“Well,” Agnes exhaled, “he is quite the charmer, isn’t he?”
Lizzy burbled, though Agnes couldn’t say if it was in agreement or not.