The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)(87)

He gave her a proud yet smug look, one she was used to seeing. She chortled to herself. The man did have a terrible streak of pride. She’d have to give Father John another coin for penance for Angus, since the Scot refused to take up the custom himself.

Angus hooked his thumb in his gray tunic. “Ye’ll make a fine MacLeod because ye already ken we’re the best clan in Scotland.”

Mentally, she added another coin to her dues. “Do you think they’ll let me become a MacLeod, though, since my mother was the daughter of the previous MacDonald laird and I’ve an English father?”

“They will,” he answered without hesitation, but she heard the slight catch in his voice.

“Angus.” She narrowed her eyes. “You said you would never lie to me.”

His brows dipped together, and he gave her a long, disgruntled look. “They may be a bit wary,” he finally admitted. “But I’ll nae let them turn ye away. Dunnae worry,” he finished, his Scottish brogue becoming thick with emotion.

She bit her lip. “Yes, but you won’t be with me when I first get there. What should I do to make certain that they will let me stay?”

He quirked his mouth as he considered her question. “Ye must first get the laird te like ye. Tell Neil te take ye directly te the MacLeod te get his consent for ye te live there. I kinnae vouch for the man myself as I’ve never met him, but Neil says he’s verra honorable, fierce in battle, patient, and reasonable.” Angus cocked his head as if in thought. “Now that I think about it, I’m sure the MacLeod can get ye a husband, and then the clan will more readily accept ye. Aye.” He nodded. “Get in the laird’s good graces as soon as ye meet him and ask him te find ye a husband.” A scowl twisted his lips. “Preferably one who will accept yer acting like a man sometimes.”

She frowned at him. “You are the one who taught me how to ride bareback, wield a dagger, and shoot an arrow true.”

“Aye.” He nodded. “I did. But when I started teaching ye, I thought yer mama would be around te add her woman’s touch. I did nae ken at the time that she’d pass when ye’d only seen eight summers in yer life.”

“You’re lying again,” Marion said. “You continued those lessons long after Mama’s death. You weren’t a bit worried how I’d turn out.”

“I sure was!” he objected, even as a guilty look crossed his face. “But what could I do? Ye insisted on hunting for the widows so they’d have food in the winter, and ye insisted on going out in the dark te help injured knights when I could nae go with ye. I had te teach ye te hunt and defend yerself. Plus, you were a sad, lonely thing, and I could nae verra well overlook ye when ye came te the stables and asked me te teach ye things.”

“Oh, you could have,” she replied. “Father overlooked me all the time, but your heart is too big to treat someone like that.” She patted him on the chest. “I think you taught me the best things in the world, and it seems to me any man would want his woman to be able to defend herself.”

“Shows how much ye ken about men,” Angus muttered with a shake of his head. “Men like te think a woman needs them.”

“I dunnae need a man,” she said in her best Scottish accent.

He threw up his hands. “Ye do. Ye’re just afeared.”

The fear was true enough. Part of her longed for love, to feel as if she belonged to a family. For so long she’d wanted those things from her father, but she had never gotten them, no matter what she did. It was difficult to believe it would be any different in the future. She’d rather not be disappointed.

Angus tilted his head, looking at her uncertainly. “Ye want a wee bairn some day, dunnae ye?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted and peered down at the ground, feeling foolish.

“Then ye need a man,” he crowed.

She drew her gaze up to his. “Not just any man. I want a man who will truly love me.”

He waved a hand dismissively. Marriages of convenience were a part of life, she knew, but she would not marry unless she was in love and her potential husband loved her in return. She would support herself if she needed to.

“The other big problem with a husband for ye,” he continued, purposely avoiding, she suspected, her mention of the word love, “as I see it, is yer tender heart.”

“What’s wrong with a tender heart?” She raised her brow in question.

“’Tis more likely te get broken, aye?” His response was matter-of-fact.

“Nay. ’Tis more likely to have compassion,” she replied with a grin.

“We’re both right,” he announced. “Yer mama had a tender heart like ye. ’Tis why yer father’s black heart hurt her so. I dunnae care te watch the light dim in ye as it did yer mother.”

“I don’t wish for that fate, either,” she replied, trying hard not to think about how sad and distant her mother had often seemed. “Which is why I will only marry for love. And why I need to get out of England.”

“I ken that, lass, truly I do, but ye kinnae go through life alone.”

“I don’t wish to,” she defended. “But if I have to, I have you, so I’ll not be alone.” With a shudder, her heart denied the possibility that she may never find love, but she squared her shoulders.