Nessa curled her toes as she whiffed the strong spirits. Eying Latharn over the rim of her glass, the reality of his bare-chested attire suddenly struck her. “First, I think we’d better concentrate on getting Latharn a wardrobe that will help him blend into this century.”
With the drink tray balanced on one hip, Fiona turned, her eyes skimming over Latharn’s muscular chest barely covered with his plaid. “Aye. Ye’re right. The problem is that Brodie’s not as large as Cousin Latharn and canna even loan him anything to wear to the shops.”
Brodie circled Latharn and looked him up and down. “One of Da’s kilts might fit him. We might even still have one of his tunics in one of the chests in the attic. Da was a mountain of a man as well, although he wasna nearly so tall.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Latharn yawned in apparent boredom with the current conversation. He sported a mischievous grin as he slowly spun around. “How is this?” he asked, spreading his hands wide. He had clad his body in a skintight black T-shirt, a crotch-hugging pair of designer jeans, and a pair of fine Italian leather boots.
Trish whistled at the way Latharn filled said jeans and nudged Nessa in the ribs. “I can’t believe you came out of that bedroom at all. Who needs food with that around?”
Brodie cleared his throat and coughed a bit. “Ye might want to choose something a bit more conservative when we go out tonight to dine. At least something that doesna make the rest of us look quite so dumpy. Eh, give us a break, Cousin?”
With a grin at Brodie’s irritation, Latharn once more waved his hands. His clothing changed to a less-fitted fisherman’s sweater and a pair of crisp khaki pants.
Nessa pinpointed Latharn’s problem. Her lust engines kicked into overdrive as he paraded around the room. No matter the style of dress Latharn chose, it was a certainty he was going to turn heads. He exuded power, pure unadulterated strength, and an undeniable charm. He was the type of man women followed with their eyes, then plotted to find a way to meet. And he belonged to her.
“Go back to the jeans. Nessa and I really liked the jeans,” Trish instructed with a decisive nod.
“Trish! He’s not a Barbie doll,” Nessa retorted, elbowing her friend in the ribs.
“Well, he’s damn sure no Ken.” Trish cast a ribald wink at Nessa as she tossed down the rest of her scotch.
“Do ye always have this effect on women?” Brodie heaved a great sigh as he steered Latharn toward the outer door.
“How do ye think I ended up in that ball?” Latharn replied with a jerk of his head.
ChapterTwenty-Three
All the people who mattered gathered around the table. Her friends and future family surrounded her. Finally betrothed to the man of her dreams, Nessa sighed with contentment. Life just didn’t get any better than this. She’d been drawn to Scotland, some would say obsessed, for the better part of her life. Now she knew why. The land of her heart and the birthplace of her love, she’d been drawn here because she belonged. She’d never dreamed she’d ever be this happy.
With a disappointed jolt, Nessa decided her happiness was too tempting for the demons of discord to ignore. Their icy fingers tightened around her throat as trouble walked through the door. Nessa elbowed Trish and nodded to the archway where the hostess chatted to none other than Gabriel Burns. Cowering at his side trembled a mere slip of a woman stealing glances about the room.
“Just ignore him, Nessa. Maybe he won’t see you,” Trish instructed under her breath. Trish smiled and talked behind her glass as Latharn cast a curious glance at her and Nessa in the middle of his conversation with Brodie. No sooner had the words left Trish’s lips then Nessa heard Gabriel’s voice boom across the room.
“Nessa! Trish! It’s good to see ye. Ye’ve not been back to the pub in ages.” Gabriel ignored the meek woman scurrying behind him and headed straight for their table.
Latharn dropped his conversation to Brodie and rested a possessive hand across Nessa’s wrist. His eyes narrowed to piercing slits as he homed in on his prey.
“Hello, Gabriel.” Attempting to keep her tone as cool as possible, Nessa forced her politest smile across her face. Surely, he’d take the hint and leave. No one could be that dense. “Who’s your friend?” Nessa leaned around and softened her smile in the direction of the quiet woman’s downcast face. Her heart went out to Gabriel’s latest victim.
Gabriel’s eyes never left Nessa’s face as he shrugged a shoulder in the woman’s direction. “Oh, that’s just Maery. We’re old friends, she and I. Maery, this is Nessa Buchanan.”
A shadow of a smile flickered across Maery’s face as she cast a curt nod to each person at the table. She held her chin slightly tucked, as though afraid to speak.
Nessa clenched her hands in her lap. Poor Maery. Nessa knew exactly why.
Latharn rose, flexing his muscles to ensure Gabriel received the full effect. He looked at Maery with one of his warmest smiles and bent his head in her direction.
“’Tis good to meet ye, Maery. My name is Latharn MacKay. I am Nessa’s betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” Gabriel spit out the word as though it tasted bad in his mouth. “Did you just say you are Nessa’s betrothed?”
“I did. Nessa and I are to be joined upon the next full moon. She has gifted me with the rest of her life. A gift I am most grateful to accept. I will also be most happy to accept your congratulations.” With a triumphant leer, Latharn waited, as if praying for Gabriel to make a stupid move. Latharn’s hands clenched, and Nessa reached out and touched his arm, afraid of what ran through her beloved’s mind.
Gabriel’s face purpled; his lips trembled as he shook beneath Latharn’s stare. Gabriel flexed his fists, swallowed hard, and with a jerk, finally extended his hand. With a curt nod of his head, he growled his words through gritted teeth. “Then I must congratulate ye, Latharn MacKay. It would seem the MacKays always get the finest women in the end.”
Latharn held off long enough for everyone at the table to start shifting in their seats. Then he reached out and crushed Gabriel’s hand in his own, squeezing his own unspoken fury into his grasp. “Thank ye. Now if ye’ll excuse us, we’ll be getting back to our private celebration. Don’t let us keep ye from your own plans.”
Gabriel’s face darkened further at the obvious dismissal. He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. He grabbed Maery’s arm and spun on his heel, but not before looking Nessa square in the eye. “Good luck to ye, Nessa. If ye should ever need me, ye know where I can be found. I promise ye, I willna forget what could’ve been between the two of us, you and I.”
