Sleepless in Scotland (8 page)

He had, though not to the extent Galloway feared. Still, if Hugh looked at what had happened in the coach—pulling Caitriona into his lap, holding her there, kissing her passionately—the answer would have to be a resounding “Hell, yes.”

And he had no remorse. It was a damned shame he hadn’t touched her more, especially if this escapade turned out to be as expensive an error as it seemed it would.

Galloway frowned. “Your silence speaks for itself.”

Hugh merely stared back, his chin lifted, his eyes half-closed against the pain shooting through his temples.

Galloway’s mouth thinned. “Fine, then. I shall assume the worst. Though she’s twenty-three years of age, I am still responsible for my niece’s safety. She is still a maid, and you abducted an innocent woman!”

“That was not my intention.”

“No, your intention was to abduct her sister, which is
just
as nefarious.”

“I had hoped to frighten Caitlyn Hurst into leaving my brother alone. She was blatant in her attempt to trap him into marriage.” Hugh met Galloway’s gaze directly. “She announced on more than one occasion, before witnesses, that she would stop at nothing to do so. Furthermore, she intended to be in that coach, for I discovered her cloak and a bandbox hidden beneath a seat. So when I saw a blond woman in my brother’s coach, I assumed Triona to be Caitlyn. Anyone would have done the same.”

Lord Galloway nearly turned purple. “Caitlyn may have shown a want of decorum, but her sister should not be made to pay for that. Triona has been gently raised. I daresay she’s never been more than twenty miles from the vicarage in her life.”

Hugh found himself looking at her once more. Her face was turned away as her sister spoke to her, an earnest expression on both their faces. “They look remarkably alike.”

Galloway’s gaze followed Hugh’s and the older man’s face softened. “They
are
twins, though it is easy enough to tell them apart, especially when they are in the same room.”

“Which they weren’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. You had no business attempting to frighten a mere girl for nothing more than a few brash words.”

“Caitlyn Hurst has been running wild since she arrived in London.
Someone
had to take her in hand.”

Galloway’s mouth turned white. “Her aunt and I were working to do just that, as was Triona. She had come to London to convince her sister to behave with more decorum.”

Wonderful. The girl was sheltered, innocent, and a do-gooder. Word by word, he was being pushed toward the very edge of the cliff.

Hugh rubbed his neck, his eyes hot and aching. He wished for nothing more than the promised bottle of port and the peace and quiet of Alexander’s coach, without a damned seductive innocent to tempt him.

“Well, MacLean?” Galloway said loudly, which caused the conversation on the other side of the room to come to a halt. “What do you have to say for your treatment of my niece?”

Damn it all, Lord Galloway would settle for only one answer—marriage. Hugh had no desire to be married. He’d almost made that mistake once before, and would happily swallow a hundred nails to avoid it again. “I will apologize to your niece for upsetting her, but I should point out that no one saw her enter my carriage, other than her nurse. If you and Lady Galloway will escort her back to London, no one will be the wiser.”

Galloway suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I wish that were true.”

Hugh’s heart sank like a boulder dropped into an icy pond.

“Once Nurse realized that Triona had been taken in your coach, she raced back to London to inform us, and Lord and Lady Colchester and their daughter, Cassandra, were with us in the sitting room. They’d escorted Caitlyn from Bond Street.”

“Bloody hell! Lady Colchester is a vicious gossip.”

“Yes. By the time we return to London, everyone will know what has happened.”

That was it, then. As much as he wished it otherwise, Hugh couldn’t ignore the cold, hard fact that his arrogant action had led to Triona Hurst’s ruin. He was doomed. Through gritted teeth, Hugh said, “I will come to your house tomorrow morning to make the arrangements.”

“Do not look so angry, my lord. This is a mess of your own making.”

“I did nothing but attempt to protect my brother. I will not apologize for that.”

Lord Galloway’s brows lowered. “I’ve met your brother on many occasions, my lord, and I can’t imagine he either needed or wished for your protection.” When Hugh opened his mouth to answer hotly, Galloway held up a hand. “Right now, I don’t care a feather for Laird MacLean’s opinion.” He glanced toward the silent group of women, then turned his face away from them and added in an urgent undertone, “Miss Hurst has a younger sister and several younger brothers, not to mention that it is quite possible her father might lose his position when this scandal breaks. They will
all
suffer if her reputation is not quickly restored.”

So he was now responsible for the future happiness of the entire family, was he? He longed to shove his fist down Galloway’s throat.

Galloway straightened. “You will apply for a special license as soon as possible, and the marriage will take place three days from tomorrow. Do you understand?”

Hugh crossed his arms, refusing to answer.

The older man’s lips thinned and he said crisply, “Good, then I shall expect you tomorrow at nine.” He rose from his chair, and Hugh forced himself to rise as well.

Damn the man!
Hugh longed to argue, to rail, to refuse to comply. Yet across the room Triona sat, her somber eyes locked on him, an ineffable air of sadness about her.

“We are settled, then. I bid you good night.” With a stiff bow, Galloway turned on his heel and began to encourage the women to don their cloaks.

To Hugh’s relief, the innkeeper appeared with the longed-for port. Hugh refused to look Triona’s way again as the innkeeper poured a generous amount into a glass and held it out to Hugh.

Just as Hugh reached for it, the innkeeper noticed that his other guests were bundling back into their cloaks. He turned, the precious port still in his hand. “Leavin’ so soon? I was bringin’ in a side o’ beef and some meat pasties fer the ladies—”

“Pack the pasties in a basket,” Galloway said briskly. “We will eat on the way home.”

Hugh captured the port from the innkeeper and drank it quickly, hoping the warmth might ease the tight band around his chest.

Lady Galloway, her gaze frosty as she watched Hugh, made an outraged noise as her husband herded her and the others toward the door.

Just as Triona reached the doorway, she paused. “Lord Hugh, I wo—”

“Triona!”
Lady Galloway snapped. “I forbid you to speak to that man!”

“So do I,” Caitlyn agreed, looking disdainfully at Hugh.

Triona’s eyes flashed, but she said quietly, “I will speak to him if I wish to.”

“Och, he’s a devil, he is,” Nurse warned.

“Triona,” her uncle said firmly, “we are leaving
now.”
He attempted to lead her from the room but she pulled free, her face a frozen mask of indignation.

Hugh recognized the flash of rebellion, because he felt the exact same way—frustration at the rules and requirements of society, mixed with a desperate desire for freedom. The pity of it was that Triona Hurst was as much caught by this little trap as he was. Fight though she would, there was no way out; her family would make sure of that.

Triona suddenly turned her fine eyes his way. “MacLean, my uncle is not responsible for my actions; I am.”

Lord Galloway’s mouth was pressed into a displeased line. “Triona, MacLean and I will deal with things. You need not worry your head over matters from this point on.”

Hugh could see the irritation plain on her face, and something else. Was it…fear?

Hope flickered in his chest. She feared a union as much as he. If she cried off—

But no. Though he’d be free, she would still be ruined, and her entire family would be affected by it. Hugh wasn’t capable of walking away from his responsibilities. He was many things, but a coward was not among them.

Triona now stood before him, her spectacled eyes dark with a myriad of emotions. She said in a low voice, “MacLean, don’t let my uncle talk you into doing anything foolish.”

A quiver of ironic humor tickled his lips. “Apparently I need no encouragement to do something foolish. I managed to do it quite well on my own.”

“Triona!” her uncle called.

She grimaced but didn’t look away. “We both erred. You were as concerned about your brother as I was about my sister. Neither of us should pay for what was obviously a simple misunderstanding. We can find some other way out of this that won’t cost our freedom if we just—”

“No.” Hugh was both touched and irritated, but it was time to speak plainly. “I thank you for your generosity, but as much as I wish to accept it, your uncle is correct about the cost of our comedy of errors. You would be ruined, and your family would pay the price as well. That is not acceptable.”

Her brows knit. “Surely we can—”

“We can do nothing that society would accept, other than marry.” He realized that his hand, clasped about the glass of port, was shaking faintly from fatigue. If he didn’t get to his coach soon, someone would have to carry him.

Her lips pressed together. “I don’t
wish
to marry!”

“We have that in common, at least.” He forced his weary legs to move and crossed to a chair by the fire. Though it was insufferably rude to sit when women were standing, he dropped into the soft cushions with relief. “Trust me, Miss Hurst, if I could think of another way out of this, I would do it. But I cannot, and therefore we are stuck.”

“Triona, you have your answer,” her uncle said coldly. “Now come.”

She stiffened.

Though Hugh appreciated her spirit, he nodded. “Leave the details to your uncle and me.”

“But I—”

“Good night, Miss Hurst,” he said firmly. He turned away and refilled his glass, even that simple movement costing him dearly. He could feel Triona’s presence there, but he didn’t turn to see her expression. There was no need; he could feel the fury emanating from her as surely as heat seeped from the fire.

Footsteps crossed the floor. “Come, Triona. Leave the beast alone!” Caitlyn urged.

Naturally, Nurse had to add her two pennies. “Och, ’tis a sad day when an innocent bairn canna even enter a carriage without a rogue takin’ advantage o’ her!”

Hugh swallowed a mouthful of port, his gaze locked on a knot in the wood paneling. Outside the wind began to stir, but fortunately Hugh was too exhausted to grow truly angry, and it quickly died down.

“Triona, it is late and we must go,” Lord Galloway said, sounding as tired as Hugh felt. “It’s rude to keep your poor aunt out on such a cold night.”

There was a moment of silence during which Hugh could almost hear Triona’s voice demanding that he join her in protesting their fate. But though she might be ignorant of the ways of the world, he was not. Grimly, he kept his face averted and silently willed her away. Suddenly, with a whirl of her cloak, Triona marched from the room, the others following.

Chapter 6

“Listen closely, me lassies. The MacLean men can be trusted with yer funds, yer family, and yer future, but beware givin’ one o’ them yer heart.”

O
LD
W
OMAN
N
ORA TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ON A COLD WINTER’S NIGHT

I
would rather eat a raw toad!”

Aunt Lavinia blinked. “Triona, you have no choice. You’re ruined.”

“I don’t care!” Triona whirled, pacing back and forth before the sitting-room fireplace. “I won’t get married under these circumstances.”

“But you must! And since you must, we should at least decide on the sort of flowers and laces and—”

“Aunt Lavinia,
please,”
Caitlyn said from a chair by the front window. This was the first time she’d spoken all morning. “Triona has plenty to worry about without you pressing her whether to have lilies or roses for a bouquet!”

Aunt Lavinia looked crestfallen. “I just thought it might help her see the positive side of things.”

Triona paused in her pacing. “Aunt Lavinia, this wedding is not going to occur. Neither Hugh MacLean nor I should be forced into this situation.”

“My dear, society is very clear in these instances and—”

“I don’t give a damn what society says!”

“Triona!
Proper ladies do not say such things!”

“Perhaps they should! Then more people might listen, and this must-marry silliness would be a thing of history.”

“Lud!” Aunt Lavinia pressed a beringed hand to her bosom. “I’m having heart palpitations! Someone call Dr. Francis!”

Caitlyn turned to Aunt Lavinia, her eyes red-rimmed.
“Please
stop saying you’re having heart palpitations. One day you will have them for real, and no one will believe you.”

Aunt Lavinia’s lip quivered, and her watery blue eyes traveled from Caitlyn to Triona.

Seeing the tears coming, Triona hurried to say, “Aunt Lavinia, I’m sorry I’m in such an ill temper this morning. It’s just that when I awoke, it all piled in on me.” She managed a wan smile. “I was so tired last night that I couldn’t take everything in and I suppose, in some way, I thought it would all be back to right when I awoke.”

Instead, she’d awoken with a distinct sense of dread, coming downstairs to an unusually early breakfast and finding Uncle Bedford already in his study waiting for MacLean. Meanwhile, Aunt Lavinia was in a flutter over “the coming nuptials” and talking gowns and flowers and so much nonsense that Triona had finally snapped.

Caitlyn had been oddly quiet this morning, her shoulders slumped, her face a mixture of regret and stubbornness. Triona knew that look well; Caitlyn always wore it when she was repenting one of her wild starts. “Cait, don’t look so glum. It’s not the end of the world.”