“Boarding school?” Dugan repeated, then gave Quinn a quizzical frown.
“Lady Evaline knows of many things that we do not.” And he still hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or bad. “But ye would meet the child? Maybe talk to her?”
“Aye,” Dugan chimed in before Evie answered. “Convince my sweet lass that running and playing like a lad is no way for a lady to behave.” After an ashamed shaking of his head, he rumbled out a huffing groan. “Climbs trees like a wee squirrel, tickles fish, and chases down sheep so she can ride them. My wee one needs a woman who’ll teach her to act proper.” His gaze slid to her clothing drying by the fire. “’Course, ye willna wear those things around her, aye? Her skirts are about the only ladylike thing the wee minx does. If she sees ye in trews, she’ll set up a howl to wear them herself.”
“So, you’re displeased that she’s a tomboy?” Evie folded her arms and leveled a hard gaze at him.
“God help ye, man.” Quinn clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder as he stepped back. Dugan always let his mouth dig his grave. Quinn wasn’t sure what a tomboy was but felt certain Evie was about to educate them both. That might be good. Or very unpleasant.
“I dinna ken what atomboyis, m’lady.” Dugan backed farther away than Quinn, seeming to realize he had overstepped his bounds.
“Atomboyis a girl fearless enough to stand firm and prove herself as bright as any boy.” Evie advanced a step, looking ready to charge. “Brave. Courageous. Doesn’t shrink from anything. Would you prefer your daughter be helpless?”
“I dinna ken what to say to her now,” Dugan whispered, edging behind Quinn and peering around at Evie.
“Hell’s fire, man, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard ye whisper.” Quinn turned back to Evie. “Congratulations, lass. Ye quieted the brute.”
She smiled and seemed to relax. “I would be happy to be Mairi’s friend, Mr. MacTaggart, but you might want to rethink that. I doubt I’m what you need or expect for your daughter.” Her tone softened, and her gaze fell. “And I wouldn’t wish to cause your little girl any problems by being associated with me.”
Dugan’s broad smile returned. “Dinna fash yerself about that, m’lady. Once ye become the chieftain’s wife, none would dare tease her.”
Her head shot up, and she marched a step closer. “What did you just say?” The woman’s tone almost hit the sharpness of a shriek.
Quinn scrubbed his face with both hands, then pointed at the woods. “Go.”
Dugan stared at him. “What?”
“Go. I dinna care where, just go.” He hoped to quiet the approaching storm, but by the look on Evie’s face…
“How long?” Dugan asked. “The meat’ll need turnin’ soon.”
“I will turn the feckin’ meat,” Quinn growled. “Dinna come back ’til sunset, ye ken?”
Head bowed, Dugan edged away. “Aye, my chieftain.” Then he slipped through the foliage without disturbing a single leaf, a rare feat for one so large.
Evie directed the full force of her scowl on him. “Would you care to explain why Mr. MacTaggart thinks I am going to become the chieftain’s wife?”
“Call him Dugan instead of Mr. MacTaggart, aye? That just doesna sound right.” Quinn shifted in place, stalling for time and praying for the wisdom to make Evie see sense. Not only did he need a wife, but the union would keep her safer. It helped them both. And dammit, he wanted her.
She swiped a hand across her mouth as though doing her best to control her words. Her flashing eyes and the high color to her cheeks sounded the charge to battle. He hoped he survived her fury. Because he saw it coming, sure as lightning from an approaching storm. She lifted her chin but didn’t answer. Just glared at him.
“As my wife, ye would be safer. An Englishwoman living alone in the Highlands?” He gave her a dubious shake of his head. “Surely, ye understand that?”
No response. Just a tightening of her eyes as her scowl darkened more.
Might as well grab the beastie by the horns and hang on. “They would respect ye as Lady Evaline, ye ken? We could even say I sent for ye as a favor to Clan Ross and Philip after Balliol’s failure. Ye’ve nay got any legitimate titles to yer name, have ye? That might help, too.” The more he thought about it, the more the details fell into place.
Mouth open, she slowly shook her head. She lifted both hands, then let them drop. “Philip who? And why Clan Ross?”
“Philip IV of France. Their king.”
“Why would the king of France care about who you married? Why would Clan Ross care?”
“Because William, the Earl of Ross, was captured at the Battle of Dunbar back in April. So, the clan shifted their backing to England to keep him alive in the Tower of London. And King Philip enjoys anything that gives that bastard Edward a case of the red arse and distracts him from his fiefs in southwestern France.” While it was true Clan MacTaggart was smaller than some, his connection to Clan Ross through his mother was strong, and he was also an earl in his own right. Had she forgotten? “So, what say ye? Do ye agree?”
“I do not agree.” She stared at him as if trees grew out of his nose. “I don’t even know you, and trust me when I say you know absolutely nothing about me.”
“I know you pulled me from that water before I drowned.” He risked a step closer. “I know ye probably frightened off whoever clubbed me and left me for dead.” Another step, this time close enough that her warm sweet scent wafted across him. He scooped up her hand before she could flee and dropped to one knee. “I know ye sewed my flesh and wrapped my head in yer strange bandages. Fed me. Dried me. Kept me warm. I know how ye watched over me and kept feeling for my heartbeat through the night. I know enough, Evie. Ye’re a tender woman, a healer, a stubborn hellcat, and a terrible liar. What else need I know? Other than will ye accept my offer and become my wife?” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, wishing he could scare away the fear in her eyes. “Let me protect ye, Evie. Let me save ye, as ye saved me.”
