Hannah and the Highlander Page 4

  Hannah wished she could eat a plate of bacon, but she lacked Lana’s svelte physique. If Hannah ate what she wanted, she would probably have to be rolled from the room.

  That in itself was terribly unfair. Life often was.

  Upon second thought, Hannah selected a cake—though it had probably been licked—and turned back to the table.

  Papa gored her with a gaze sharper than any arrow. “A new offer has come, girlie.”

  She endeavored not to wince. A sense of dread clogged her throat.

  She always hated when new offers arrived, as each was more depressing than the last. As a general rule, her suitors were less than inspiring. Dirlot had a forest of sprouting ear hair, Olrig was a rather squatty sort, with a distinct waddle to his walk, and Brims was eighty if he was a day. He also had a rather alarming propensity for hacking up phlegm.

  Not that she minded phlegm, but, as a rule, not in her soup.

  “Ooh,” Susana cooed, buttering a bannock. “Who is it this time?” She sent Hannah a minxish grin. And why not? Susana knew she was safe. As she was a widow, there was no pressure for her to marry. None at all.

  “Stafford again?” Lana asked with a frown.

  “I hope not.” Hannah shuddered at the memory of Niall’s kiss; aside from the fact that he had tried to overpower her, he kissed like a trout. She couldn’t imagine living with him, much less kissing him again. She did hope for a husband she wanted to kiss on occasion. Especially now that she knew what a kiss could be like—

  The memory of a bold, harsh face surfaced. Prickling with annoyance, she forced all thoughts of that magnificent, infuriating man away and focused on the conversation. Or tried to, at least.

  “It is from Dunnet.” Why her father chortled she had no clue.

  “Dunnet?” Susana pierced her poached egg. She was fond of piercing things. The yolk bubbled up and oozed out and she sighed as she watched it flow. And then her brow wrinkled. “The boozy old fart?” Her grin at Hannah was evil. “Quite in keeping with your retinue.”

  Hannah forbore from sticking out her tongue, but barely.

  “That was the uncle.” Papa’s lip curled. “Never liked that man. He died, oh, several years back. Got himself drunk one night and tumbled from the castle battlements. This is Alexander.” This he said as though it meant something. “He’s a good man. Not much for words, but a good man.” He waggled his brows at Hannah. “You would suit. Of all the barons, he is one of the few who have spoken out against these damned Improvements.”

  “I doona know how they can call them Improvements,” Lana gusted. “Evicting tenants and importing sheep?”

  Isobel nodded, nibbling her cake. “Sheep are stupid.”

  “Aye, they are.” Hannah couldn’t help but agree. “But political beliefs canna be the sole standard by which I choose a husband.”

  Susana narrowed her eyes. “Is there a standard by which you choose a husband? Because from what I can tell you have rejected them all … summarily.”

  “Hardly summarily.” Hannah bristled. “I am being prudent.”

  For some reason, Lana found this amusing. Her laugh rippled through the room.

  Hannah frowned at her. “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” Lana said. “Describing yourself as prudent.”

  “I’m always prudent.”

  Snorts—a quartet of them—rounded the table.

  “I am.”

  “You’re impulsive,” Susana proclaimed.

  Lana patted Hannah’s hand. “Impetuous.”

  “Reckless.” This from her niece, in a warble.

  Hannah grimaced. “Et tu, Isobel?”

  The demon grinned widely.

  Papa gusted a dramatic sigh. “Think on it, lass. Dunnet has profitable lands and a strong following. Practically an army of warriors at his beck and call. Even the Marquess of Stafford would hesitate to stand up to him. And he’s a robust, hearty lad. Not decrepit like the others. You would make fine sons together.”

  “I’ve never even met him.”

  “You’ve probably seen him. He was at Barrogill.” For some reason, Papa’s eyes glinted.

  It sent a prickle up her nape. “He was?”

  “Aye. He won the caber toss. Verra impressive, that.”

  “He-he … won…?” Hannah’s pulse throbbed; her mind whirled. Heat crept up her cheeks as the image of that man flickered.

  No.

  Surely it couldn’t be him.

  And why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe?

  Susana shot her a sharp look. Her lips quirked. “Dunnet, eh? Is he tall, with dark curls? Broad shoulders and fine muscled legs?”

  Hannah could have throttled her.

  “The one with the scar?”

  The vision of his face filled Hannah’s mind, as though it had been burned there. A scar? Aye. He’d had one. It had done nothing but make him more savagely attractive.

  Papa’s eyes lit up. “Aye. That’s the man. Did you see him?”

  See him? She’d kissed him.

  And then he’d rejected her. He’d stormed away without so much as a word. Every time she remembered it, her humiliation grew. And now … Now he was offering for her?

  Why?

  Her breakfast churned in her belly.

  Oh heavens. She knew why.

  Though her kiss had clearly revolted him, he’d somehow discovered she came with a fat dowry and decided he wanted her after all. Apparently, the enticement of Reay lands was far too strong to resist. Certainly strong enough to compel a man to take a bluestocking antidote he couldn’t bear to kiss into his marriage bed.

  Fury rose and roiled. And there, twined with it, a ribbon of pain. “I am not marrying that man.” Hannah hadn’t intended to blurt the declaration; she opened her mouth and it spilled forth as though forced out by the pressure welling in her chest.

  The disappointment in her father’s eyes gouged at her. “You’re going to have to choose one of them, lass. I’m not gonna live forever and the vultures are circling.”

  “Of course you’re going to live forever,” Susana said, patting his hand.

  He ignored her. “Hannah. My wee lass. You’re going to have to choose one.” This he murmured softly in a thready, tired voice.

  Hannah’s heart thumped once and then went still at the bone-weary expression on his face. “Papa. Are you … all right?”

  “Strong as a bear.” A gruff boast. “But time is running out.” He squeezed her hand with an intensity that frightened her. “Promise me you will choose soon.” A whisper.

  “I will.” Ah, merciful heavens. The hardest words she’d ever spoken. But the best, perhaps, for the worry faded from his brow and he smiled around the table. “Good. Good. Now, what are your plans for today, my girls?”

  “I’m going shooting,” Isobel chirped.

  “Hopefully not in the library,” Hannah murmured.

  Susana sent her a befuddled glance but didn’t comment. “I’m planning to work with Torquil in the apiary.”

  Hannah wrinkled her nose. She loved honey, but bees had an unfortunate habit of stinging. “Do be careful.”

  Susana waved her hand. “I’m always careful.”

  A boldfaced lie.

  “I fancy a walk in the woods.” Lana winked at Isobel. “Please try not to shoot me.”

  Isobel grinned. “I shall try.”

  “And you, Hannah?” Papa asked. “What mischief will you be up to?”

  Nothing as adventurous as mischief. “A ride, I think.”

  Isobel blew out a breath and Susana chuckled. “There’s a surprise.”

  “Beelzebub needs exercise. The grooms were too frightened to ride him while we were away.”

  “Small wonder.” Papa’s brows rumpled. “That beast is a menace.”

  “He’s magnificent.” He was. And she’d missed him. In fact, she was itching for a ride. Hannah stood and kissed her father on the top of his head. “Have a wonderful day, Papa,” she said as she breezed from the
room.

  “T’will be a wonderful day indeed when you choose a husband!” he called after her.

  Hannah sighed. As always, it was best to let him have the final word.

  As she made her way to the stables, she resolved to enjoy her ride, even if that meant not thinking about her suitors, not even once.

  And Alexander, Laird of Dunnet, was the last thing on her mind. Really. He was.

  * * *

  Beelzebub chomped at the bit as Hannah approached to greet him. “Hello, my darling,” she cooed. He tossed his head and showered her with a wet spray. “Impatient, are ye?” He truly was a magnificent stallion, all glossy black from tip to tail, and aye, he was something of a terror, at least to those who didn’t understand him.

  Hannah adored him. He was wild and unrestrained and he ran like the wind. She never felt more glorious, never freer, than when she was on his back.

  “My lady.” Rory tugged at his forelock. “He’s ready and waiting.”

  “Thank you, Rory. Did he give you much trouble?”

  The groom’s blush was telling. She tried not to chuckle as she led the beast to the mounting block.

  “Would you like an escort?” Rory asked, his brow wrinkling with concern as he watched her mount. He knew better than to offer to help.

  She shot him a grin as she settled into the saddle. He asked each time she went for a ride. They both knew the answer. Without hesitation she set her heels to the stallion’s flank and he shot from the stable yard into the bailey, his muscles bunching with pent-up energy and the anticipation of a good hard run. As they pounded over the cobbles and under the portcullis, chickens scattered and sheep scuttled out of the way with plaintive baas. And then, once they reached the open road, they flew.

  It was splendid.

  It was a lovely day for a ride. The breeze was cool and the sun shone down through the spotty clouds overhead in a soft, watery light. There were some shadows in the sky. No doubt it would rain later, but for now the road leading toward the loch was dry and spattered with colorful blooms. Some would call them weeds. But Hannah was not some; she loved every flower, weed or no.

  Because it had been so long since she’d ridden, Hannah decided on a ride around the loch. Enough to give Beelzebub a much-needed outing, warm his muscles, but not enough to exhaust him. Though she knew he would run and run like the wind as long as she allowed it. Aside from that, she loved to take the curving road as it wound in and out of the woods. It was much more exciting than the straight stretch to the east.

  Hannah bent low over Beelzebub’s neck and urged him on, exulting in the feel of the wind in her hair and the taste of adventure. In tandem with the churning dust kicked up by Beelzebub’s heels, her thoughts roiled. They tumbled through her mind like water through a burn, nearly too fast to capture.

  Not the least of which was the realization that once she settled on a husband there would be no more reckless rides like this. No doubt a husband would want to fetter her freedoms, chain her up and lock her in. She’d seen more than one of her carefree friends tender their independence for a ball and chain.

  Other thoughts ran rampant as well. Most of them circled around a certain tall, silent, simmering man—the kind of man for whom she had yearned, except for his rudeness, and the fact that he’d offered for her. She was torn between a bothersome tug of longing … and irritation.

  Above all things, she wanted warmth in a husband. Someone who would laugh with her and share ideas. Someone who would accept her as an equal. Should he prove to be malleable, well, so much the better.

  Dunnet, that hard, dark warrior, was nothing of the sort.

  Beyond that, she couldn’t thrust that kiss from her mind. Or, more to the point, the fact that he’d ended it so abruptly. Ended it and then reared back and stared at her with that look in his eye.

  What had it been? Disgust? Revulsion?

  Regardless, it made an uncomfortable heat prickle on her skin. He made heat prickle on her skin. And she didn’t like it.

  Papa made a good point about Dunnet’s following, though. Of late there had been a rash of raids on the outlying crofts, reevers and thieves. It would be nice to have additional security in the upheaval caused by the Clearances to the west. Damn Stafford anyway.

  But how foolish would she be to marry him? A man who made her feel the way he did … when he saw her as no more than a chunk of land—

  Beelzebub reared and Hannah’s heart leaped into her throat. Madly she grasped at the reins to keep from being thrown, then sawed back to bring her mount under control. As Beelzebub danced, she glanced up and stilled. Something curled in her belly.

  Three men on horseback blocked the road. They were men she did not know.

  Hannah frowned. She’d spent her entire life here. She knew everyone, but there had been a flood of strangers coming to Reay of late, usually under the cover of night and usually up to no good.

  As she calmed her mount, she felt for her dirk. When she found the hilt, tucked in her belt, her panic eased. If they were bent on mischief, at least she had a weapon.

  “Who are you?” she called.

  The largest one smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. “It’s her,” he said, and Hannah’s unease flared again. “He said she’d come this way.”

  He? He who?

  “What do you want?” Hannah clenched her knees, telling Beelzebub to be ready to wheel and run. His muscles quivered. He whinnied and shook his head. His eyes rolled back toward her.

  With a prickling at her nape Hannah glanced over her shoulder. Her heart dropped as two more men emerged from the woods behind her, effectively blocking her in.

  And one of them was Niall.

  Hannah narrowed her eyes and spun her horse around. She glared at Niall. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.

  He tipped his head to the side and tsked in a manner that made irritation skitter up her spine. She hated being patronized, and tsking infuriated her. “Honestly, Hannah. Did I not warn you?”

  “Warn me? What are you talking about?”

  “I told you I was determined to have you.”

  Oh lord in heaven above. Hannah blew out a breath. “Niall, I’m not marrying you.”

  “O’ course ye will, girlie.” The man next to Niall smirked. “Ye could be a marchioness.”

  “I doona give a whit for titles.”

  “My father is a powerful man,” Niall said. “He will be a duke one day. And from all accounts, your da is weak. Ailing. He canna stop my father from taking what he wants. And he wants Reay.”

  Niall edged closer, far too close for comfort. As his mount approached, Beelzebub danced restlessly. Hannah knew, if Niall didn’t, Beelzebub hated to be closed in; he’d been known to attack horses that got too close. Still, she didn’t warn Niall, because now that he’d moved there was an opening between the two men. Not a huge one, but enough for her to charge through if the chance presented itself.

  “Papa is not weak.”

  “He is. He’s weak and he’s old. And his forces are laughable. You know that croft that burned down last week?”

  Hannah stilled. The fire had been a tragedy. The family who lived there had not escaped. Husband, mother, and child had perished in the blaze. “What about it?”

  Niall’s response was an oily smile. “Such a pity.”

  “Are you saying you caused that fire?” Horror curled in her gut.

  “And the cattle that have been disappearing? With regularity?”

  A cold fist gripped Hannah’s heart. Prickles rose on the back of her neck. Bloody hell. Was it him? Was it all him?

  “It will only get worse, Hannah, unless you marry me now. It would be a damn shame if your granary caught fire. Or your sister … disappeared.” He leaned closer. His fetid breath gusted over her face. “Or if your poor da should take a tumble.”

  Hannah’s skin went clammy. Sweat beaded on her brow. The thought of Papa, Lana, Susana or Isobel in danger appalled her. “You are a bastard,�
� she snarled.

  He had the temerity to look put out. “Is that any way to speak to your husband?”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Niall. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not marrying you!”

  “You will, actually. In fact, if that bastard Dunnet hadn’t interfered in Barrogill, we’d be married already.”

  Not hardly.

  Niall glanced around at his men. They all urged their mounts closer. “We’re here to make sure of that. Today. You might as well make this easy on us. Come along peacefully.” He flicked his reins and his horse eased forward. Beelzebub nickered and pawed the dirt, but Niall was oblivious. Niall was a fool.

  Without warning he grabbed for her, fisting her sleeve. She lunged back and the sound of tearing fabric rocketed through the glen.

  Fury raged. She made a sound. Something like a snarl.

  This was her favorite dress.

  He leaned in again, to make another attempt to get hold of her, but Hannah whipped out her dirk and swiped at him. He lurched out of range, but at the same time Beelzebub did what he’d been wanting to do for a while and nipped at Niall’s horse’s rump. The beast wheeled away with a scream. The momentum, and Niall’s wild lunge, knocked him from his seat. He fell into the dirt with a warbled curse.

  Hannah saw her chance—a wide berth through which she could charge—and she took it. With a feral growl she hunkered down over Beelzebub’s neck and surged forward, through the breach. The man who had been beside Niall made a grab for her as she passed, but Hannah saw his hand coming and met it with the swipe of her dirk.

  She didn’t tarry to see what damage she had done. She set her heels and gave Beelzebub rein. The men followed her, of course. She could hear the pounding of the hooves twining with their furious shouts, but no horse could outrun Beelzebub, so she quickly outpaced them.

  No doubt, her fury gave her wings.

  Beyond all that, outrage boiled in her veins.