“Ah,” she returned, nodding even though she kept her gaze on Dunncraigh. “Laird Maxton is a fool for not dragging a duke’s sister across the countryside and then handing her over to you, whom everyone knows to be an enemy of said duke.” She patted a finger against her chin. “Logically, even if you rewarded the viscount with sheep or wheat or something, the Duke of Lattimer would see him imprisoned for kidnapping.” She dipped a shallow curtsy. “I am a member of the aristocracy, after all. My home in London stands between the residences of the Marquis of Pyegrove and the Earl and Countess of Adsam.”
“I dunnae give a damn who yer neighbors are, Sassenach.”
“That’s Lady Marjorie to you, Your Grace,” she returned, still as calm as if she was chatting over tea.
Watching her, listening to her, mesmerized Graeme, and he worked to keep his attention on Dunncraigh. Very rarely did anyone attempt to openly oppose the Maxwell, and whoever did make the effort never emerged successful, if he emerged at all.
“Since Lord Maxton is unwilling to risk being jailed,” she went on, “I suppose it’s a good thing—for you, Your Grace—that Sir Hamishiswilling to take up residence at the Old Bailey.” She glanced at the fuming Paulk, who looked ridiculous with a great bandage across the middle of his face. “Did you have any idea that five young lads were playing along the river when you grabbed me? That’s five witnesses to the kidnapping of a duke’s sister. Unless you mean to murder children of your own clan, of course.”
That caused a stir among Dunncraigh’s men. Whatever the lass was about, for the moment it seemed to be working.
“It’s fortunate Lord Maxton stopped you, and persuadedmenot to send to Fort William for soldiers, when you consider it.” With that she returned her gaze to the tight-lipped duke. “While I was being dragged across the countryside yesterday, I also found myself considering the dilemma my delivery would have put beforeyou, Your Grace.”
“Oh, did ye now? Enlighten me. I’m curious to hear how hurt I would feel while ye rotted naked in an oubliette.”
She nodded, apparently unmoved. Graeme wasn’t; he gripped the stock of his rifle so hard his knuckles showed white. One step. If anyone took one step toward her, he was opening fire.
“Certainly. I assume my captivity would be used to encourage my brother to sell you MacKittrick—or Lattimer, rather. If he agreed you could release me—in which case both you and Sir Hamish would have to face the English courts. Or you could murder me, which would give the Duke of Lattimer—also known as Major Gabriel Forrester, the Beast of Bussaco—every incentive either to hunt you down and murder you in return, or to inform his fellow soldiers of precisely what happened. And thenyouwould be stripped naked and tossed into a cell at the Old Bailey. If you lived that long, of course. I personally doubt you would.”
Marjorie lifted a finger in the air. “Oh, I forgot something. You came after me today. In person. Everyone here, those you can see and those you cannot, areallwitnesses now. And I married Laird Maxton yesterday, so whatever happens to me, he has my entire fortune at his disposal. I imagine that’s more than enough money to persuade even the most reluctant and loyal of men to speak up.”
Dunncraigh’s face went from mottled purple to gray and back again. Graeme wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see the Maxwell drop dead on the spot from an apoplexy. He bloody well wouldn’t shed a tear.
“Once I consider all these fantastical thoughts of mine,” Marjorie went on, clasping her hands behind her back, “I have to presume youactuallyrode all the way out here to make certain I’m uninjured, and to congratulate your chieftain on his marriage. In light of the past tensions between you, however, I’m afraid I can’t invite you inside. So unless there’s something else you wish to discuss, Your Grace, I thank you and bid you good day.” With that she offered a deep, proper curtsy, turned around, and smiled tightly at Graeme.
That was the only sign of nerves he’d seen from her. Lowering the rifle, he strolled out to meet her, offered his arm, and headed for the front door. “Lads,” he murmured, and Brendan and Dùghlas moved in front of them.
In the doorway Marjorie turned around again. “I do need to take issue with one thing you said, Your Grace. You called Laird Maxton a fool. He isn’t a fool. He’s a man who accepted, at age twenty, the responsibility of raising three brothers and being a landowner and a viscount and a clan Maxwell chieftain. He’s delivered calves, shorn sheep, plowed fields with his own two hands because his tenants needed him to. Graeme Maxton is a true Highlander in the best sense of the word. I don’t know what you are, sir, but I will have to be content with calling you gone from here.”
***
“I called ye my fierce lioness, but fer God’s sake, lass.” As soon as the front door closed behind them, Graeme pulled her into a hard, relieved embrace. That wasn’t enough, though, and he bent his head to kiss her.
“I suppose all those years of conversation and comportment and etiquette lessonsdidturn out to be valuable,” she said breathlessly, holding on to his lapels. “My legs feel a bit wobbly now, though.”
“Mylegs feel wobbly,” Dùghlas put in.
Graeme swept her up into his arms. “Do ye ken how much ye risked oot there?” he muttered, kissing her again. She still wasn’t close enough, but with the entire household pouring into the hallway, truly showing his appreciation would have to wait.
“As much as you risk every day,” she returned. “If I’m to be your wife, I could do no less.”
“Yeareto be my wife,” he stated. “And now that ye’ve told all of clan Maxwell we’re already wed, we’d best send for Father Michael before Monday.”
“You haven’t asked my permission,” the Duke of Lattimer said, as he trotted down the stairs, his rifle held easily in one hand. “They’ve gone, by the way. Dunncraigh threw a shoe at Paulk. And you took away my best chance to shoot the bastard, Ree. I’m not certain how I feel about that.”
“If you’d stepped in,” she returned, pushing at Graeme’s chest until he relented and set her down again, “someone would have gotten killed. And it might have been one of us.”
“That’s all well and good,” Graeme said, figuring it might be a good thing to have both hands free now, anyway, “but let’s get back to that first bit. I’m nae asking yer damned permission fer anything, Lattimer.”
The duke lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
“Nae. Ye can ask yer sister if she’s happy here, and I’ll tell ye that I adore her. If ye want to fight aboot it, I’ll oblige ye.”
Marjorie pushed between them. “Iamhappy here, Gabriel, so you don’t have to ask me. No punching.”
“Let go of me, ye madwoman!” Connell’s voice came from upstairs. “Cannae ye see it’s safe?”
“We’re to stay put until someone fetches us, young man!”
