“Well, I see that as a problem,” Donnach said. “Because he’ll be her guardian until she’s eighteen,at least. I cannae adopt her without his permission. How can I marry ye, Rebecca, if ye willnae come be with me?”
A perfectly logical question. And it still made dread crawl down her spine. “Running away to hide and marrying are two different things,” she countered, feeling her way as she spoke. “He won’t harm her, but I can’t leave her there without a very good reason.”
To her relief the dance ended before he could question why she’d very nearly just contradicted her own logic. She joined in the applause, but kept clapping longer than she should have when Donnach offered her an arm. Blast it all, she had no talent for subterfuge. Hiding a scowl, she put her hand over his forearm.
“For the past year, lass, ye’ve been able to rely on me to help ye,” he murmured, guiding her toward the open balcony doors. “I’ve nae a reason to stop helping ye, now. None of us wants that drunk here interfering. So ye may continue to rely on me. All I ask in return is that ye dunnae listen to his nonsense. He’s a madman who’s been carrying a grudge for ten years over someaught he did to himself. He needs to nae be here.”
What did that mean? Had he just offered to kill Callum? Had she inadvertently encouraged him to do so?Oh, no.This couldn’t—
“The next dance is mine,” Callum said from directly behind them.
Donnach stopped them just short of the balcony. “Go away, Geiry. Ye’re nae wanted here. Ye’re barely tolerated. Do everyone a favor and go spend the rest of the evening at one of yer taverns. The Seven Fathoms managed to survive without yer blunt, but I reckon they’d weep with joy to see ye back again.”
“Aye? Well, I reckon I can break yer nose before ye can make a fist. Care to wager on that?”
Rebecca pulled her fingers free and turned around. “There’s no need for stamping and shoving,” she stated, meeting Callum’s narrowed gaze. “I’ve promised this waltz to my brother-in-law, and I’m a lady of my word.”
Without waiting for anyone to respond to that, she took Callum by the elbow and, using all her strength, turned him an inch toward the dance floor. Abruptly he relented, and she nearly fell on her face as he gave way. Moving with whip-quick grace, he caught her beneath the arm and pulled her against his side.
“What were ye thinking,” he murmured, “going out to the balcony with that snake?”
“I was trying to keep up with his conversation,” she retorted. “I have no idea where my feet were going.”
A low rumble sounded in his chest. She looked up at him sideways, belatedly realizing that whatever she’d said had amused him. Well, at least one of them was enjoying the evening, then—though in truth she’d enjoyed it very much up until that last dance.
“And with whom wereyoudancing?” she asked stiffly.
“Morag MacKenzie,” he replied, taking her right hand in his left and sliding his right hand around her waist.
A little breathless at being touched by him in public, she put her free hand on his shoulder. “Morag… Wasn’t she one of the women with whom you spent your evenings when you were last here?” She hadn’t liked it then, but now she had the sudden urge to hit the pretty redhead in the nose. The jaw-clenching dislike punching through her felt unlike anything she’d ever experienced, but she knew precisely what it was—jealousy. She didn’t want any other woman touching him as she touched him now.
“Was she?” he returned, gazing down at her face. “Ithought perhaps, but they’re all a wee bit fuzzy in my mind. I dunnae recall spending much time sober back then.”
He was in all likelihood lying, but she actually appreciated it. Neither of them was the same person they’d been ten years ago. Not even close. “Was I a fuzzy memory, then?”
“Nae. Ye were the siren calling me back from a very long time at sea, my lass.”
That sounded lovely, but too many men seemed to be attempting to sway her with pretty words, lately. “Don’t those who listen to sirens find themselves dashed upon the rocks? Am I deadly, then?”
The orchestra sounded the first note, but instead of straightening, he leaned his head closer to hers. “Aye. I’d die for ye, Rebecca.”
With that they were off. It took several turns for her to realize that he’d evidently been studying that first waltz very closely, because he knew the steps. He’d always been graceful, but for a few moments she had the distinct sensation that she was flying, floating a few inches above the ground as she twirled in his arms.
He’d likely meant to sound romantic. In light of his original plans and what Donnach had just said, though, she had the sinking feeling that he was being prophetic. How could she give her heart to a man who seemed determined to pay for his transgressions—or what he perceived to be his transgressions—with his life? How could she go through that again, especially knowing the pain that lay ahead?
“I would rather you lived for me,” she said quietly, but didn’t think he heard.
Chapter Fourteen
The rooftops of Inverness didn’t much resemble the wilderness of Kentucky in appearance, but climbing from a thatched roof to one of crumbling stone to another of hard tiles did seem somewhat familiar.
Callum paused on the roof of the Inverness cathedral, squatting in the shadow of the highest steeple to look out over the pathway along the river. The Marquis of Stapp stood there; from what he could tell, damned Donnach had arrived a good twenty minutes before the time of his designated rendezvous with Rebecca.
Thank Lucifer she’d told him about today, even though it had left him tempted to tie her to the bedpost this morning. His cock twitched at the mental image. Perhaps he should do that, anyway. She’d said Stapp wouldn’t attempt anything but honey-coated words and then had asked him to give his word that he wouldn’t interfere.
Well, he wasn’t interfering. He was watching. If that bastard laid a hand—or worse, a mouth—on her, though, “watching” could go fuck itself. She’d left first, taking his curricle to the cathedral, while he’d waited and then galloped off on the waiting Jupiter. He’d leftthe stallion at a tavern three streets back from the river Ness, then approached via the rooftops. No sense in alerting any of Stapp’s men who might be watching.
Back at MacCreath House, Waya had taken up her now-usual position at the head of the stairs to watch over Mags, and he’d begun to think the she-wolf didn’t miss running down boars and deer all that much—not when the exchange was table scraps and raw beefsteaks. She’d even chosen a nap first thing this morning over joining him on his ride. But she’d keep Mags safe, and that left him free to clamber about on rooftops.
