“I didnae kidnap her trunk. I wanted her to be more comfortable than I ken ye’ve been. I do try to learn from my mistakes, which is why I suppose I’ll be going back for yer things, now.” He preferred not to, as it would make it easier for her to flee, but the lass needed her damned clothes.
A smile touched her sweet mouth. “I imagine my wardrobe troubles could have been much worse. And I’m lately feeling somewhat… mollified.”
He drew her a breath closer. “Are ye, then?”
“Graeme!” Connell’s voice came from the direction of the stable. “Honker’s oot! We have to get ’im before he’s ate by a wildcat!” The bairn went charging up the rise toward the meadow.
“Honker?” Marjorie asked.
“Connell’s greylag gander. He lives in the stable.”
Marjorie gathered her skirts and hurried after Graeme, but as he headed after his youngest brother at a run, she might as well have been standing still. A goose, multiple cats, a pair of foxes, three baby rabbits, and heaven knew what else, but Graeme had hundreds more lives stacked on top of that. And he still took the time to chase down a pet goose with his eight-year-old brother.
Halfway up the hill, though, she stopped. What in the world was she doing? Whatever he said about keeping her and his family safe, whatever she’d agreed to, she was still a prisoner. And just across the rather formidable-looking river behind her lay freedom.
Even as the thought occurred to her, though, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps she did know approximately where in the Highlands she now found herself, but she still wasn’t prepared for a hike through the wilderness. And she… didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay, at least until she’d figured out why she found this man—a barbarian and a heathen who seemed to enjoy nothing so much as flaunting the rules and dragging her along with him—so compelling. Until she’d rid him from her thoughts and felt ready to return to her very large, comfortable house in London.
Still panting, she resumed her sprint to the top of the rise. She definitely needed to go for more walks, if she could possibly arrange it. The meadow spread out before her, piles of wood planks stacked here and there among rolls of heavy canvas and two dozen men marking things with stakes and string.
In the middle of all that, a large blue-gray goose honked and flapped, dodging Connell, Graeme, and anyone else running after it. She recognized Brendan as he made a dive, only to get tangled up in twine. And Graeme, in his white linen shirt and kilt with work boots, looked magnificent but wasn’t faring much better. Connell, flapping and squawking himself, seemed more excited than worried.
Finally Graeme made a twisting leap, scooping the gander up in his arms and rolling several times before he came to a stop. Marjorie put both hands over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter, as Connell flung up his arms and then collapsed beside his brother.
“Well done,” she called, clapping. Marjorie picked her way over the remaining stakes and twine to stop beside them.
Breathing hard, Graeme grinned up at her. “If he ever figures oot how to fly, we’re done fer.”
“He cannae fly,” Connell put in. “A wildcat tried to eat his wing when he was a bairn.”
As she looked at Honker more closely, she could see the long length of featherless wing on one side. Another orphan Connell had needed to rescue. Another lost soul Graeme had allowed his brother to bring into the family.
Had she been one? Was that the real reason Connell had noticed her and had gone along with his older brother’s plan? Was she a lost soul trying to fit into a place that neither needed nor wanted her presence? But where, then, was she supposed to go? She had the education and the sophistication to be an aristocrat, a house nicer than half the dwellings in Mayfair, and tradition had affixed “Lady” in front of her name the moment they’d recognized Gabriel as the Duke of Lattimer.
No one, though, had given any indication that she belonged among the blue bloods of London. And after her escapade here in the Highlands, she never would. Where, then, did she belong? Where would she feel that she’d achieved what she’d spent most of her life pursuing? Was—
Connell sat upright and took her hand, pulling her down to sit beside Graeme in the damp grass. “Pet him, Ree. His name’s Honker. He’s very friendly, but he likes to run aboot in the meadow.”
With Graeme still on his back and the gander cradled against his chest, she reached over to run her fingertips against the soft feathers of the bird’s breast. The head swiveled, beady black eyes assessing her, until he curved his neck to shove the top of his head beneath her hand.
“Honker likes ye,” Connell announced. “I told ye he was friendly.”
“He’s very soft,” she offered.
“And cunning,” Graeme added. “We’d best get him back inside and help restake the meadow before the lads decide we’re more trouble than we’re worth.”
A hand lowered to help her to her feet. She took it and stood, looking up to see Brendan gazing at her. “Thank you,” she said.
Gray eyes held hers for a short moment. “We dunnae all find ye as charming as Graeme does,” he murmured, sent a glance at his older brother, and walked away again.
“Brendan,” Graeme said sharply, as he stood. “What did he say to ye, lass?” Without waiting for an answer, he put the goose into her arms and strode after his brother, grabbing him by the shirt to haul him back in front of her. “Apologize, Brendan. Whatever ye said.”
Putting a half smile on her face, she shook her head. “He said you think I’m charming.” He had; she’d only left out the other bits because they were between her and Brendan. “That doesn’t require an apology where I’m from.”
The sixteen-year-old’s sharp eyes glanced at her and then away. “Satisfied, ye great lug?” he grumbled, shrugging out of Graeme’s grip and stalking away again.
“That’s all ye have to say?” Graeme asked, eyeing her now.
She handed him the goose back. “Don’t try to begin a fight with me, Highlander,” she countered. For a minute there, before Brendan had reminded her that she didn’t belong at the Lion’s Den, either, she’d almost felt like a part of the Maxton family. And for that brief moment, she’d liked it. “I haven’t done anything.”
