Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(81)
“You did.”
Rolfe stared at her, trying to decide if he believed her. “Ye are weeping.”
“With joy.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in that way men often did when they were completely confounded by a woman’s logic.
Katherine smiled at him. “I didn’t think there was any possible way for you to prove such a thing.”
He nodded firmly. “I’ll tear the parchment up if ye like, Katherine.”
“No,” she responded with a wicked grin. “I cannot wait to see your father’s face when you present it to him.”
Rolfe slowly curled his lips back, offering her a menacing grin that promised William McTavish hell.
“I love you.”
His grin faded in response, his expression becoming serious. He moved toward her, folding her back into his embrace. “As I love ye, lass.”
“I am still not going to become the model of a good wife.”
He stroked the side of her cheek and locked gazes with her. “I suppose that all depends on what a man thinks a perfect wife should be. For meself, I fancy hellions.”
*
“And the Earl of Morton will retire from the office of regency.”
Morton glared at the man reading the list of demands from the Earls of Gowrie and Angus. But they had the king. Part of him was relieved to know the young James was locked away from the newly arrived Lennox.
Lennox clearly intended to draw the king into a carnal relationship. Morton curled his lips in disgust at the idea. Men coupling with men—it turned his stomach.
He nodded. “Long live the King!”
Everyone seemed to expect more resistance from him. Morton gladly disappointed them. It was never wise to allow anyone to know too much about himself. He walked past the counselors who had answered to him for almost a decade, and didn’t care for the way they only half lowered themselves now that it was clear he was leaving.
It wasn’t until he was a day’s ride from the city that he drew his horse up and realized something.
The damned castle stank.
He drew in a second breath and let it out slowly. When he reached his estate, he was going to lay out new gardens. Anything to get outside. He’d spent too much time indoors. Scotland would have to be content with his efforts.
Of course, not everyone viewed him as a champion of Scotland. No, many saw him as a monster. They sought vengeance, now that they believed him in a position they might strike at.
Morton grinned. Let them try. For he might not be regent any longer, but he was still a Douglas.
*
Gordon land
Diocail pulled his horse up, raising his hand to let his retainers know he was stopping. Ahead of him was the Gordon stronghold. Half of it was dark stone, giving the place a sinister look. His horse seemed to sense it, dancing from side to side. Diocail reached down and patted the stallion’s neck soothingly.
“Wondering if they are going to welcome ye back?”
Diocail flashed a grin at his captain. Muir was a few years older than he was and had a calm demeanor that Diocail liked. The man also had a keen wit that was helpful.
The wind had whipped up, promising cooler days as summer neared its end. The breeze also carried the sound of a bell ringing. It was joined by another and then more.
“It seems they are ringing a fine welcome for ye, Laird.”
Diocail closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he let the sound seep into his soul.
“Let’s go home, lads!”
And he had every intention of making it a home. One that had everything he had never known but heard good men craved.
Home, hearth, and family.
He’d spent most of his life living for the moment when such treasures might be his. Today, he would begin building those dreams and forging them into reality. It would not be easy, especially not for a man who had only heard of a loving family. His mother had taught him of love, but she’d died a long time ago, leaving it a distant memory.
He was going to brighten that recollection and polish it, so he’d know the woman who would help him create a family when he met her. A good woman, strong like Katherine, willing to look at him with love in her eyes.
He’d find her.
Somewhere.
*
“I made this tart for you, dearest Father.”
Katherine made sure her accent was very English as she delivered the misshapen pastry to Laird McTavish.
William snorted before pushing it onto the floor. His hounds jumped up and immediately began to lap up the mess.
“Oh dear,” Katherine exclaimed. “Are your hands trembling? Age is such a burden. Shall I fetch you a tonic?”
“I do nae need it. Me hands are as steady as a young lad’s,” William exclaimed. “I can assure ye, me daughter Joan did nae go to her betrothed with the lack of skill that ye have.”
“Yes, I am English, after all.”
Katherine shot him a pleased smile before she left the great hall. Adwin was nearly purple with holding in his mirth. Most of the retainers had taken to making sure they were in the hall when supper was served, because Katherine would never fail to try to please her father by marriage.
“Ye’re devious, woman.” Niul spoke from where he’d been watching her from the doorway of the kitchen. “If me brother comes over that table and locks his hands around yer neck…”