Nodding, Graeme turned back up the hallway. It had become apparent yesterday that he’d been far too lenient with his younger siblings, far too concerned with keeping a roof over their heads to notice the nonsense going onintheir heads. And it was dangerous nonsense, as he’d witnessed yesterday.
He shoved open the closed billiards-room door. “So ye think ye get to play after ye tie up a lass, frighten her half to death, and then dump her in my lap?”
Three pairs of eyes, all various shades of gray, looked up at him. “We’re nae playing,” Brendan announced, returning to the papers they had scattered across the billiards table.
“Nae a newspaper says Lady Marjorie’s gone missing,” Connell announced, shredding a dandelion leaf and dropping the bits into his rounded coat pockets.
“Nae a newspaper ye’ve seen,” Graeme amended. “We’ll nae have a London paper to hand fer days.”
“Even so,” Brendan countered, “Sam Woring put in a notice aboot a missing pitchfork. A duke’s sister’s more important than a pitchfork, and there’s nae a mention of her.”
To himself Graeme could admit the omission was a bit… odd, but the silence didn’t mean his slender, blue-eyed problem had vanished. “Is that yer concern then, Brendan? That nae a soul knows what ye’ve done?”
“Isn’t it yers too, Graeme? That she doesnae bring us more trouble?”
Just gazing into her eyes was trouble. “That’saconcern,” he conceded. “My largest worry is over why ye and Dùghlas even thought of kidnapping a lass, and why neither of ye decided against it.” He stepped deeper into the room, closing the door behind him. “Dunnae ye understand? Ye put yer hands on a lass, dragged her away from her friends and family, and both scared her and made her—and her brother—into our enemies.”
Brendan pounded a fist against the table’s surface. “Aye, we’ve made a Sassenach an enemy, but that’s because ye and Papa made an enemy of our own clan chief. If ye do what we planned, ye’ll have Dunncraigh in yer pocket. And then with all of clan Maxwell behind us, nae English trespassing duke could stand against us.”
“Ye—”
“We were desperate to help ye, Graeme,” Dùghlas interrupted. “Ye kept saying ye’d manage the Maxwell, but then ye ignored him. And so when we saw the lady there at the inn, we couldnae pass by our chance.”
Graeme blew out his breath. Lucifer’s balls, they still didn’t understand. They saw Lady Marjorie as nothing more than leverage. And perhaps he was guilty of the same thing. Or perhaps he was making the best of a bad situation. “Well, now that ye’ve dragged her here and ruined her reputation, I reckon it’s up to me to decide what’s best fer the lot of us. I’ve sent a note to Father Michael inquiring aboot getting a special license so I can marry Lady Marjorie Forrester.”
All three boys looked at him blankly. “But—” Brendan finally stammered. “She’s to go to the Maxwell, so he can take back Lattimer. If ye—”
“If I what?” Graeme prompted. “If I marry her, we’ll have the blunt to stand against anyone. Hell, we might even gain Lattimer as an ally.”
“If he doesnae murder ye for marrying his sister,” Brendan retorted.
“Ye should only marry her if ye’re in love with her,” Connell said, with all the conviction his eight years gave him. “And ye’ve only known her a day. What if she doesnae like cats?”
“I’ll risk it,” he returned. “And love is nae a thing I’m looking fer. Her money’ll do just fine.”
“She willnae be able to bring charges against us, either,” Dùghlas noted. “If ye’re doing this fer us, Graeme, ye shouldnae—”
“Of course it’s fer ye, ye heathens,” Graeme cut in. “Ye did wrong. I’m making it right, in the way that works best fer all of us, the Sassenach lass included.”
“We could just ask her to be quiet aboot it,” Connell insisted.
“She doesnae owe us that. Or anything.” And that was the crux of the problem.
She owed him no kindness, no favors, and even if she swore not to mention the lads’ names, he had no reason to believe her. He would be better off bricking her into the room and never mentioning her again.
Just the idea of that, however, made his chest tighten. The day the Maxtons of clan Maxwell were desperate enough to commit murder—the dayhebecame that desperate—he would walk away from the Highlands altogether. Even so, he wouldn’t be digging through old trunks to bring her any more pairs of shoes, even if he did find her absurd insistence on propriety amusing.
When he’d put his big, rough hands on her damned dainty ankle, though, he hadn’t felt amused. He’d felt… Devil take it, he didn’t know what he’d felt, but he knew he shouldn’t have been feeling it. Not toward a damned nose-in-the-air Sassenach with the power to see him imprisoned or transported. Who could see his brothers imprisoned or transported.Thatwas why he needed to marry her. The money made it more tolerable. The rest… didn’t signify, whether his cock tried to convince him otherwise, or not.
“We’ve got her here now,” Brendan took up, clearly not confused by the damned female’s presence at all. “And we cannae let her go. Ye may as well hand her to Dunncraigh and have some good come of this. Let her behisworry.”
“I’ll nae be taking advice from ye until ye’ve at least grown some scruff on yer cheeks,” Graeme retorted. “And nae until yer first solution to trouble isnae to kidnap a lass.”
Brendan’s cheeks darkened. “But ye’re willing to marry her. How are ye any better?”
Graeme scowled. “That’s cowardly to say, when ye ken damned well I willnae fight a bairn as wee as ye are, Brendan.”
“I’m nae wee! Or a bairn! I only lack four inches on ye, Graeme Maxton, and I’ll fight ye any damned day of the week.”
