“Arrogant man,” she muttered back at him, turning around again and stomping away from him up the stairs so he wouldn’t see her grin.
She stopped in front of her companion’s room and made a point of knocking politely. “Mrs. Giswell, you wanted to see me?”
“Is that insufferable Highlander with you?”
“Yes, but he’s agreed to wait in the hallway.” She sent him a pointed look.
“Thank heavens. Do come in please, dear.”
Graeme pulled the key from his pocket. “If ye mean to convince her to nae make trouble,” he whispered, “do it soon. I’ve an appointment with Father Michael and two of my cotters in twenty minutes. “Ewen Sturgeon and Kitty Howard want permission to marry.”
“Permission from you?”
“Aye. I’m their chieftain. I approve all the marriages on my land.”
“Do you ever deny your permission?”
“Once.” Rather than elaborate, he gazed straight back at her, as if daring her to continue a discussion of marriage in his presence.
Well,shehadn’t done anything wrong in that respect. “Are you allowed to approve your own marriage, or does Dunncraigh have to do that? Because that might have put a damper on your grand plan to marry me and defy him.”
“He should be the one to approve my marriage, aye,” he returned easily. “But part of the defiance plan would have involved defying him, ye ken.”
She made a face at him. “Insufferable.”
In truth, the way he didn’t seem angry over his botched wedding plans left her relieved. Odd though it might be, she didn’t want him as an enemy. Someone with whom she could argue, yes. But not someone she disliked. Oh, it was very complicated, and her few remaining propriety-minded friends would be fainting left and right if they knew what she’d been up to and with whom she’d been doing it. She, on the other hand, wanted to do it again.
“What are ye thinking aboot?” he murmured, and she shook herself.
“Kilts,” she answered, half truthfully, and then refused to drop her gaze as he turned the key and opened the door. She removed the key herself so he couldn’t lock her in with Mrs. Giswell, and then slipped into the room.
The lady’s companion had turned her chair to face away from the doorway, but after a glance over her shoulder, likely to see if Graeme had indeed waited out in the hallway, she stood and turned around. “I’m glad that man permitted you to see me again. After I refused to bow to his demands earlier, I wasn’t certain he would.”
And while Mrs. Giswell had been worried over their captivity, she’d been eating in the breakfast room and helping Connell with his mathematics. Guilt pinched through her. “Lord Maxton is only worried about his brothers’ safety, I believe. If you would give your word that you’ll stay inside the house here and not speak to anyone outside of the residents and staff, I believe he would remove the shackle and let you leave this bedchamber.”
“If he’s worried over his brothers he should have raised them not to kidnap highborn ladies. And he shouldn’t have rolled me into a blanket like a sausage and then toted me over his shoulder like I was no more than a sack of potatoes.”
“I agree. I think a lady would have found a much more diplomatic way to deal with this. Perhaps arranged to have a conversation with you before resorting to kidnapping.” In response to that she was almost certain she heard Graeme in the hallway muttering something in Gaelic, but if he continued to think kidnapping was the first solution to trouble, the house would be stuffed to overflowing by the end of the week.
“I would certainly have been willing to listen to him. And I might have taken a moment to tell Stevens and Wolstanton to remain at the inn while I came to see you. I might have been able to offer a diplomatic solution. Now I have no idea what your men will be doing, after awakening to find me gone.”
That probably wasn’t the most helpful thing she could have said. Marjorie stifled a frown. “The situation is as it is,” she said aloud. “This isn’t where I planned on being, by any means, but I believe I’m safer here than I would be anywhere else except for Lattimer itself. Agree, give your word not to go about shouting to all and sundry that I’m the Duke of Lattimer’s sister and we require a rescue, and you may have the run of the house.”
Graeme hadn’t explicitly promised any such thing, but locking people up wasn’t aiding anything. When he didn’t barge in to counter her statement, she had to assume he agreed.
“You’re being held captive in a heathen household of barbarian Highlanders,” Mrs. Giswell countered. “And you hired me to help you find your way in proper Society. These two things couldn’t be further apart. What am I to do about that?”
“Be patient,” Marjorie returned. “And in the meantime, civilize the barbarians.”
Mrs. Giswell grimaced, but finally nodded. “Very well. I agree. I will remain in the house and not reveal your identity to anyone—which I haven’t done anyway, by the by.”
“And for which I sincerely thank you, Mrs. Giswell. I shall be back in a moment.”
She ducked out of the room to see Graeme leaning back against the near wall, arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed. Even with his height and muscular frame the pose made him look oddly… vulnerable, as if she could see the weight that rested on his shoulders. He bore it so well that even though she knew about his responsibilities, this was the first time she’d seen the toll they took.
Abruptly he lifted his head to look at her. “I didnae agree to that,” he said beneath his breath.
“She gave ground and so now you give ground. Give me the key to the shackle.”
