Page 45 of A Scot to Wed

“Katie!” Armstrong smiled a bright—albeit fake—smile. He stepped forward, his arms extended. “’Tis so verra good to see ye. I had hoped ye would speak with me before ye did something this foolish, but luckily I learned where ye were headed and have come to save ye.” He continued to smile until Evan wanted to smack the ridiculous look off the mon’s face.

Richard Armstrong was a nice-looking mon, and if no one knew of his propensity for young lads, his demeanor and looks would fool many. He seemed pleasant and good natured. His dark-auburn hair was tied behind his head, a plaid tam covering most of his head. His blue eyes were the color of the lochs. His chin, however, was not strong, and his middle was soft. The mon did not spend a great deal of time doing physical work.

“I am Laird Evan MacNeil; how can I help ye?” Evan did not hold out his hand but stood straight, towering over their visitor, his arm flung carelessly over Katie’s shoulders, a confident sign of possession.

Armstrong looked confusedly back and forth between him and Katie. “Katie? Who is this man?”

Evan squeezed her arm to remind her to stay quiet. “The lady is Mistress Stirling to ye, and I believe I just introduced myself. Now perhaps ye can offer me the same courtesy and announce yerself.”

The mon tried his best to look confident but missed the mark. “I am Lord Armstrong.” He bowed slightly. “This woman”—he waved in Katie’s direction—“is my betrothed.”

Evan waited for a moment, then spread his feet apart and let go of Katie to cross his arms over his chest. “Ye dinnae say?”

“Aye.” Armstrong raised his chin and straightened his shoulders.

Evan turned to Katie and pointed his thumb at the mon. “Is this true, mistress? Is Lord Armstrong yer betrothed?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Nay.”

Turning back to Lord Armstrong, Evan said, “It seems there is a misunderstanding here, my good mon. I suggest ye be on yer way. We have much to attend to today.” He took Katie’s arm and stepped forward.

The baron put his hand on Evan’s chest to stop him. Evan looked down at the man’s hand, then up at his face. Something in his expression must have frightened Richard, because he dropped his hand and stepped back. “I would have a word with Mistress Stirling, if you please. In private.”

Evan regarded him for a minute, long enough for the man to begin to shift his feet and offer a nervous cough. Evan sighed as if this was a mere annoyance in his busy day. “Nay. I dinnae think so. Ye see, my betrothed and I are about to make arrangements for our wedding.”

“You—” He gaped at Katie. “’Tis not possible for this man to be your betrothed. You are betrothed to me.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a paper that he waved in her face. “Right here. Your father and I made arrangements for you to marry me.”

Despite his warning for Katie not to speak, she pulled her arm from Evan’s side and tugged the paper from Armstrong’s hand and shook it. “My da never signed this paper.”

“’Tis his signature,” Richard said.

“It looks like his signature, but ’tis not. He would never do such a thing and not tell me.”

Evan took the paper from Katie’s hand, folded it, and handed it back to Armstrong. “The lady says she is not betrothed to ye. She and I are betrothed, and this morning—with her permission—as soon as I can locate a priest, we will be making arrangements.”

Armstrong’s face grew bright red, and the vein in his neck throbbed. “And why would you be looking for a priest this morning? And where were you that you’re returning together with the sun barely up and ye both looking like you just rolled out of bed? Together.”

Evan leaned forward. “’Tis none of yer business. The lady is marrying me, and ye have no rightful claim on her. I suggest yet get back on yer horse”—Evan flicked his fingers at the animal standing a few feet from them—“and hie off to Stirling.” With those words, he took Katie’s arm and marched her to the front door.

“I will not allow ye to steal my betrothed! I will take this paper to the magistrate.” Armstrong’s last few words were barely heard as Evan closed the door on the man’s ranting.

Katie turned the minute the door closed. “What will we do?”

Evan shrugged. “Find a priest. Get married. Spend some time consummating the marriage. A day or two will be enough.” He grinned. “For now.”

Katie swung and punched him in the arm. “I’ll not be wedding ye until we get a few things settled.” She pointed to the entrance. “And one of them stands on the other side of that door.”

Evan turned and walked toward the Great Hall.

“Where are ye going?”

“Breakfast. I always think better on a full stomach.” He strode across the hall with Katie dodging his footsteps.

“Do ye think Richard will leave?”

“Nay.”

“What will we do?”