A Highlander for Christmas (6 page)

Her gaze wandered over to where he stood, the tallest man in the room, with longish, dark blond hair tied back in a queue, and proudly wearing his red tartan kilt. She’d never known a man in a kilt could be so attractive, but he was—particularly in comparison to the men standing in their drawing room. He nigh took her breath away.

Comparing that glorious vision with the dark, thin Lord Malcolm made her stomach roll in revulsion.
Dear God, I cannot marry that man! Help me, please!

Their housekeeper came in and announced dinner was to be served. The men would usually pick a female to escort into the dining room by offering her his arm. Juliet panicked when she saw both Iain and Lord Malcolm coming toward her. Her brother went by and she leapt at the chance to avoid further conflict by grasping his arm. “Escort me in, Ruck.”

Ruck noted the scowl on Lord Malcolm’s face and grinned. “My pleasure, sis.” He whisked her out of the room as if her skirts were on fire. “You can’t marry him, you know.”

“I know!” she whisper-hissed. “But what am I to do?”

“I should marry an heiress, and then you wouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself.”

“You are too young, and besides, it would take time to arrange such a match—time we do not have.”

“I heard of man who kidnapped himself an heiress. He and his friends smuggled her out of her bed, took her off to Gretna Green and married her before her parents knew she had even left the house. Perhaps I can find a young lady thirsting for such an adventure.” His grin widened at the thought.

“Ruck, don’t be ridiculous. I doubt the young lady’s father would be in the mood to pay off our debts to Lord Malcolm under such conditions.”

He shrugged, pulling back a chair for her toward the head of the table by her mother. “Suppose not. Wait.” He nodded toward Iain. “The MacLeon is mad for you. Why not we kidnap him? We could do it tonight, whilst he sleeps.”

“Have you lost your head?” Juliet gasped with a half-laugh despite the dire circumstances. The thought that they could make Iain do anything he didn’t want to do was just too…unimaginable.

“Thank about it, sis. We could slip a little of that laudanum that mother uses into his after-dinner drink. I’ll coax him off to bed early, you stay and entertain old Malcolm to throw him off, and then we’ll load him into the carriage once everyone is asleep. We could make Gretna Green in about three hours if we push. He’ll be waking up right in time to say the vows and—”

“And why do you suppose he would say vows? If he wanted me as his bride he would have asked.”

“Nay, he’s over the moon for you, anyone can see that. He just needs a little nudge to get beyond the idea of an English wife. Why, if he was forced then his clan couldn’t be too mad at ’im, could they?”

A little nudge.
Did she want a husband that had to be threatened or tricked or even nudged into marrying her? And the clan might forgive him, but they would never forgive her if they learned of such scheming to have their chieftain. It was ludicrous to even think such thoughts.

“Ruck, sit down. Whatever are you up to, whispering to your sister like that?” Their mother’s gaze shot scorn at the two of them, making Juliet’s face heat with embarrassment. Ruck slipped into his chair down at the other end of the table, but not before winking at her before he turned his attention elsewhere.

Juliet looked down at the plate of food in front of her and covered her mouth with one hand. She closed her eyes, her breath heavy in her chest, the bright conversation all around her loud and intrusive. She longed for the quiet of her bedchamber, the stone floor hard and sharp against her knees. She pictured herself kneeling in prayer.

God? Could it be? Could this strange and desperate idea be the answer? It couldn’t, and yet…show me the way.

Chapter Six

I
ain nodded at Ruck and took another drink from the tankard that Ruck kept insisting was the best ale in Northumberland. Was the lad trying to get him too deep into his cups to leave on the morrow? He’d told him that he had to leave for Edinburgh—business with the sheep he had, but that he would come back and see to his sister, and…well, he shook his head as if to clear it. He’d promised to come back is all, he hadn’t said what he would do when he got back to Eden Place because he wasn’t exactly sure what he could do.

He shook his head again and closed his eyes. They wanted to close and not open again…and his speech…he could feel it. He was slipping into the deep Scottish brogue of the highlands that few but his fellow Gaelics could understand. He was just so bone weary…God help him.

He rubbed his hand across his face and felt the prickle of two days’ worth of beard. He needed a good shave and a warmed towel on his face, that was what he needed. And a nice, soft bed…

“MacLeon, did you hear me?”

Iain swung toward the voice. It sounded close and yet echoed as if down in a deep gorge. The room began to sway.
Good God in heaven
, he prayed,
what have I drunk to feel so?
He was exhausted to the point of wanting to fall on the floor in a full snore. He waved at the voice, not caring if it was Malcolm, and then looked for Ruck. Where was that young pup? He’d show him his bed or see the blunt side of his—

Ruck appeared at his side. “Come, MacLeon. I’ve something important to show you.”

Iain sincerely hoped it was a thick feather pillow.

They made their way up the winding stone stairs to the third floor, where the bedchambers lay against each side of a long and narrow hall. Ruck guided him with rough nudges in the right direction, opened a door and pushed him inside.

The lad needn’t be so pushy. The glowing light of the moon came in from tall windows and lit the room. A large, four-poster bed beckoned like a long-lost lover.

“Sleep.” He felt the word thick from his lips. “Just some—”

“Yes.” Ruck’s voice was like a mother’s gentle nudging. “You just need some sleep.” Just like his mother used to say when he was sick with the fever.

He fell across the bed and half helped while Ruck took off his shoes. The boy slung his legs up onto the bed and then covered him with a nice-smelling blanket. He had to acknowledge that even though Juliet’s home had long been pillaged of its riches, it smelled better than most and was very comfortable. He rubbed his face against the coverlet’s softness, feeling like a young lad and thinking this bed was a distant piece of heaven.

“Good eventide to you, MacLeon.” Ruck’s shadow bowed toward him as it backed away.

“Wait.” Iain rallied for a moment and turned his head toward the lad. “Yer sister…” He blinked heavily. So…very…tired…

“Aye?”

Iain rolled onto his back and flung his arms out wide, taking a long, deep breath. “Ya know I love ’er, dinnae ya, lad?”

Iain heard a soft chuckle. “Aye, MacLeon. I’m counting on it.”

He heard the soft thud of the door closing and then darkness closed all around him.

 “Juliet!”

“Juliet, wake up!”

Juliet turned from the sound, always being a deep sleeper, and tried to bury her head under her pillow.

“Juliet, if you don’t want to find yourself the bride of Malcolm in the morn then you had better wake up!”

She reared up, breathing fast and blinking awake. “What?”

“Shhhh!”

She turned to see Ruck standing at the side of her bed with a flickering candle. “He’s out cold. The plan’s worked.”

“Plan?”

“Juliet! The MacLeon. I gave him a little more than what I think Mother usually has at night to help her sleep. It must have been enough. He’s snoring loud enough to wake the dead.”

“You went through with it? Oh, may the Lord have mercy upon us! I never agreed to your daft plan! Are you mad?”

“He said he loves you.” Ruck took a step back and pursed his lips together, waiting. Her brother knew he had just played his winning card, the only card that might change her mind. Even knowing that didn’t change the sudden springing in her heart region. “How do you know?”

“He told me.” Ruck struck a slack face and mimicked the Scottish brogue: “Ya know I love ’er, dinnae ya, lad?”

“He said that?” Juliet sprang from the bed and grasped her dressing gown, throwing it over her shoulders and tying the blue satin ribbons up the bodice, dressing faster than she’d ever gotten dressed.

Ruck grinned and Juliet groaned. “He did.”

“Ruck, this is madness. I know you want to help and everyone knows I need something, some plan, but to drug and kidnap a Scottish chief and then expect him to take vows—”

“It’ll work, Juliet. I know it will.”

Juliet looked at her brother and felt tears prick from behind her eyes. This time she didn’t try to push them away, and let them fall. They had just lost their father and now had to deal with Lord Malcolm—no wonder they were grasping at straws. “Show me to him. I just need to know you haven’t given him too much.”

Ruck made a disgruntled noise but led her out her room and toward the bedchamber he had given to Iain.

When they passed the top of the stairs, loud voices stopped them in their tracks. They shrank back against the wall, back into the shadows.

“There’s no sense in waiting, my lord. We should take the girl with us in the morning, as soon as the Scotsman has left, and avoid any trouble with the MacLeon. You’ve the marriage contract signed by Lord Lindsay—why wait for them to delay it with scheming and trickery?”

“Yes, why wait for that delicious flesh in my bed?” A hollow-sounding chuckle filled the room, joined by the bawdy laughter of Lord Malcolm’s men. A chair scraped as if they were leaving the table.

Juliet felt the blood leave her face. They would take her, by force, tomorrow morning. Her mother would do nothing to stop them. No one would. She gripped her hands together so tightly that she felt the pain of it enter her consciousness. Ruck grasped her arm and pulled her down the hall, his finger to his lips, reminding her to be quiet.

They entered a back bedchamber used for guests, though rarely, and Ruck gently closed the door. Moonlight flooded the room from the two paned-glass windows. Juliet turned and saw Iain, asleep and deeply snoring, on the bed. He was still wearing his attire of the evening, save his leather shoes and laces.

“Hurry.” Her brother motioned her toward the bed. “We have no choice now. Help me get his shoes back on.”

Juliet moved as if wooden and yet obedient. Her brother, her dear brother she had always loved and cared for, was taking charge and taking care of her. She hardly knew what she was doing as she laced his shoes up his lean but muscled calves. She glanced at his face, relieved he was breathing normally and yet glad he slept so soundly. Ruck had given him plenty of laudanum for their purposes.

“He’s so much bigger than we are. How are we to get him to the carriage?”

Ruck shoved the other shoe into her hands and then went to the dressing chamber and pulled out a long board with a strap attached in the middle. Juliet recognized it. It was used upon occasion when someone was injured, or someone had shot a large animal, when something large had to be carried. “Ruck, I can’t possibly carry one side of that. He must weigh twelve stone.”

“We can, dear sister, and we will. Just think of Malcolm’s bed and you’ll be strengthened.”

She had to admit that the thought gave her the courage to at least try.

They propped one end of the board against the bed and slung Iain’s legs over it. With Juliet at his head and Ruck pulling from Iain’s waist, they managed to get him mostly on top of it. He only snored all the louder.

“Wait, I have an idea.” Juliet stopped Ruck before he tried to lift an end. She went to the water closet and took out two casks of wine, remembering that they stored some in this guestroom. They were wooden and mostly round. “If we put them beneath the board, and then roll him, moving the casks as needed, we can at least get him to the head of the stairs with little sound.”

Ruck nodded, his mouth turning up in a grin. “Good thinking.”

It worked rather well. They paused at the door to make sure their guests had retired for the night and heard no sounds, only seeing the faint flicker of a candle someone had left burning in the great room. At the top of the stairs they paused and looked at each other. Now what?

“Too bad we can’t just roll him down the stairs,” Ruck whispered.

Juliet held back a hysterical laugh. She still felt like she was an actor in a play. Her life really hadn’t come to this, had it?

“Well, if we both get on the lower end, we might, mightn’t we?”

Ruck nodded. “Be careful. He won’t be happy if we dump ’im down the stairs and he wakes all bruised.”

Juliet paled to even think of his reaction should they harm him. “All right. Just remain quiet.”

“Of course, come on.”

Juliet took one side of the board while Ruck took the other at Iain’s feet. Slowly, they slid him, step by step down the staircase.

At the bottom they both looked up longingly at the wine casks. “Go up and get them.” Juliet nodded at Ruck.

A sudden noise from the great room, right around a corner and to their right, made them both freeze. A man groaned and moved.