Hannah and the Highlander (35 page)

Alexander froze. He wasn't sure what stunned him more, the fact that somehow she'd already found out or her blasé tone. He whipped around. “You heard? How did you hear?”

Inexplicably, she grinned. “I was eavesdropping.”

He winced.
Hell.
She'd heard … “Everything?”

“Most of it. That Dougal is a fine piece of work.”

“Aye. He is.” But Dougal was the least of it. Truly he was. Alexander stared at Hannah, his heart aching, his stomach sour. It had to be said. It had to be. “Perhaps … you should have married Stafford's son.” He attempted something like a chuckle and failed.

Hannah's brow wrinkled. “Never say it. Oh, Alexander. Never say it.”

“Perhaps then you could at least have saved Reay.”

She blew out a snort. “Stafford would have gobbled it up in a trice. My people would be homeless already had I married that beast. Aside from which…” She wrinkled her nose. “
Eww.
”

His chuckle was real this time. He liked that she didn't have second thoughts about her decision to marry him. Even if it might cost her everything. He stepped closer and cupped her cheeks in his palms. She tipped her face up for his kiss. But he couldn't kiss her. Not yet. “Hannah, we need to decide which answer to give him.”

Her chin firmed. “They are both untenable choices.”

“Aye. They are.”

She nestled in, closing her arms around him and staring up at his face. “Which would be best?”

He snorted. “Neither. But I canna in good conscience agree to clear the land.”

She held him closer. Nodded.

“And if I refuse to clear the land, I will no longer be the laird. Could you … could you bear that?”

Her smile warmed him. “Oh, Alexander. I could bear anything. So long as I'm with you.”

His heart gave a great thump. God, he loved her.

“Besides…” Her grin was wicked.

He thumbed her lips. “How can you be smiling?” It was the end of the world.

“I believe we can still change his mind.”

Ach.
His mood dipped. Sometimes inappropriate hope served only to delay the eventual heartbreak. “No, Hannah. We canna. He is set on this course.”

“Of course we can.” She went up on her toes and kissed the tip of his chin. “There is something women know that men doona.”

“And what is that?”

“If I told you, then you'd know.”

Seriously? Was she teasing him? At a moment like this? “Hannah…”

“Oh, all right. The secret is this. No man is
ever
completely set on his course. Not ever. It is always possible to change his mind … if you can figure out what really motivates him.”

Of all the times Alexander had been utterly flummoxed and rendered speechless in his life, this was the most confabulating. He gaped at her.

She ignored him and rattled on. “I had a conversation with him this afternoon and it started me thinking. He seems like a caring man, and a rational man—if one doesna take his sartorial misfortune into account. He was bothered by the tales I shared with him, and seemed moved by the plight of his people. His reaction wasna that of a lord who wants to destroy, but one who wants to protect those weaker than he. He is very much like you in that, my husband.” She stroked his cheek. “Though he was raised in England—and, clearly, that has addled his thinking—I have the sense he really wants to do what's right. We just need to … provide him with options.” She shrugged, as though it were that simple.

“Options?”

“If Caithness wants sheep, we shall give him bluidy sheep. We have wonderful weavers, ships to share our wares with the world. And then there are your magnificent horses. With verra few changes, your hobby could become a thriving business in itself. And that doesna even take into account the bounty of Reay. Surely, once we show him the possibilities, he will see reason.” She tapped her lips with a finger and paced. “Perhaps we could take him on a tour of Dunnet tomorrow and point out all the lovely prosperous possibilities. We can do this, Alexander, you and I. We can show him there is a better way than clearing the land.”

“He needs the money, Hannah.”

“For what?”

“He plans to refurbish his family home before he dies.”

Her brow wrinkled. “How much would that cost?”

“You havena seen his family home. It's practically rubble.”

“Well, for heaven sake, it can hardly cost the price of the entire county. And what do you mean, before he dies?”

“He's convinced he's cursed.”

“Oh dear. Is he mad?”

“That was my thought, but he seems rational enough. And, to hear him tell it, every member of his family has died right on cue. He believes he has six months to live.”

“Then we shall have to work quickly.”

Alexander tried not to sigh. She was so hopeful, so certain, so resolute. He hated to dash her optimism. But the truth couldn't be ignored. “And if that doesna work? If he canna be convinced? What then? When Caithness insists on his answer, and I tell him I willna clear the land, we will have to leave Dunnet.”

“Then we leave.” Her chin firmed. “Together.”

“Where shall we live?” When he was not the baron? When he was no longer the laird? When Lochlannach Castle was no longer his home?

She tipped her head up and stared at him. “It doesna matter.” Her voice was so soft, so calm, so sweet, he almost believed her.

“It does. It matters verra much.”

“Nae, my husband.” She set her palm to his cheek. “As long as we're together, we will be fine.”

“I willna be a laird.”

“You will always be
my
laird.”

Silence filled the space between them. It had a weight. A potent presence. A tight ball formed in his chest. It was the most pleasurable ache he'd ever known. He stared down at her as long as he could bear it and then he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. God help him, he loved her, this woman he'd taken to wife. She was his heart, his life, his everything. With her, he was … complete.

“I am so glad I married you, Hannah Dounreay,” he murmured.

Her smile nearly split her face in two. “Hannah Lochlannach,” she responded softly. He loved the pride ringing through those words.

“Aye. Hannah Lochlannach.”

In that respect, she was right.

The castle, the lands, the treasury … none of it meant anything without her.

And with her, he had everything that mattered.

Although a roof over his head and food in his belly would be nice. And maybe a horse.

But he'd worry about that tomorrow.

 

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

“How do I look?” Lana twirled, though it was hardly necessary. She looked stunning from all angles. She wore a baby-blue gown festooned with lace—His Grace should love that—and her hair was piled in a frothy creation that made her look whimsical and delicate.

But then, Lana always looked stunning.

“Perfect, darling.” Hannah sat back and soaked in her sister's glee. How wonderful it must be not to have any worries at all.

Though she'd tried very hard to appear otherwise before Dunnet, Hannah was a bundle of nerves. This evening was crucial in their campaign to sway Caithness. While Hannah had every confidence that things would go well, there was no certainty that the duke would be amenable to their pleas in the slightest. She hoped she wasn't being naïve to think that sharing her ideas on how he could make money without clearing the land would make the tiniest difference. But it was all she had.

Beyond that, she was worried for her sister. Hannah didn't care for the way the duke stared at Lana. As though he wanted to eat her up. With his advent in Dunnet, all Hannah's overprotective instincts—which had calmed when Andrew had left—bubbled up once more. And the duke was a much greater threat.

She flicked a look at Lana, to which her sister responded with a mock frown. “What is it?” she asked.

“I … ah … What do you think of the duke?”

“He really is verra handsome, isn't he?”

Hannah's heart lurched. She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. “Aye. He is … handsome.”

Lana laughed. “Why do you say it in that tone?”

“What tone?”

“As though it tastes bad.”

It rather did. She sighed. “He's a duke. And practically an Englishman.”

“What does that mean?”

Hannah shrugged. She saw a pleat on Lana's skirt that needed smoothing, so she did. “Just that men like him are used to taking what they want.”

Lana's snort rounded the room. “Have you yet to meet a man who dinna take what he wanted?”

“You know what I mean. You need to steer clear of him.” And then she added, just to underscore her point, “Alexander tells me he is cursed.”

“He doesna seem cursed … other than his unfortunate choice in clothing.” Lana wrinkled her nose.

“It hardly signifies. I doona like the way he looks at you.”

Lana sighed. “Are we having the rabbit and the flower conversation again?”

“If necessary.”

She sighed again, this time with much more melodrama. “Honestly, Hannah. You doona need to protect me from everything. I'm not a child.”

“I know that, darling. But I canna help worrying. I doona want you to be seduced by the duke.”

“Seduced by him?” Lana chuckled. “Have you
seen
what he was wearing?”

“It is all the rage in London.”

Lana sniffed. “I sincerely doubt I could be seduced by a man who wears lace.”

“There's a relief. Still and all, do be careful around him. Lana, he's a powerful man, and powerful men tend to believe that women were put on this earth as playthings and nothing more.”

“Och, Lachlan's not like that.”

Hannah blinked. “Darling, who is Lachlan?”

“Why, the duke, of course.”

Lachlan?

Horror crawled up Hannah's spine. “How … Why…”
Oh for heaven sake.
“How do you know his given name?”

Lana's laugh was light and merry. Of course it was. She had no concept of the danger powerful men could pose to an innocent girl with a pretty face. “His mother told me.”

Relief whooshed through Hannah. “His mother?”

“Lileas. She told me he's a good man at heart.”

Hannah crossed her arms. “Hasn't she been dead for years?”

Lana gored her sister with a wounded look. “She's been watching him.”

“Well,
Lachlan
has given orders for Dunnet to clear the land. And if he refuses, he will be replaced as baron. Most likely,
Lachlan
has sent the same orders to Papa.”

Lana gaped at her. “He has?”

“Indeed. Do you still think he is a good man at heart?”

Her sister put out a lip. “And you think I could be seduced by a man like
that
?”

Hannah tried not to wince at her wounded expression. “You did say he was handsome.”

“There is more to a man than a pretty face.”

“Aye.” T'was true. Much more. Hanna blew out a breath. “Well, then next time you speak to Lileas, ask her if she knows how to change his mind.” She meant it as a joke, but Lana's eyes went a little cloudy and she tipped her head to the side. Her resultant smile, inscrutable as it was, made Hannah rethink such nonsense. Lana did know things. She often had information she couldn't have gathered on her own. That in itself had convinced Hannah long ago that whatever gift her sister had—even though she didn't understand it—was real. This prompted her to ask, “Does she? Does she know how to change his mind?”

“She has some ideas.” Lana tapped her lips and surveyed Hannah's costume. She was wearing her favorite green, the dress she'd been married in, as it was her finest. Obligingly, she held out her arms and gave a little twirl as well.

“What do you think?”

“Charming. But you need something more.”

“More?”

Lana's fingers fluttered at her neck. “Some jewelry, perhaps?”

Hannah made her way to her jewelry box in the wardrobe. There wasn't much in it. She selected the piece that had been her mother's and held it up before herself, gazing in the glass. “This one?”

Lana wrinkled her nose. “Not that one. Not grand enough for a baroness dining with a duke.”

Hannah tried another, and another, all with the same response.

Her sister studied her for a long moment, then said, “Why do you no' wear my mother's necklace?”

“You brought your mother's necklace?”

Lana put out a lip. “I wore it to your wedding. Did you not even notice?”

Oh dear.
“I was rather distracted.”

“Well, I did bring it and it would be perfect with your dress.” Without another word she bustled across the hall to her rooms and brought back the necklace that had been her mother's. It was a lovely piece hewn of gold on a thick-linked chain. It was intricately carved and had a small stone mounted on the bottom. “Here. This is much better.”

“It is quite nice.”

“Perfect for dinner with the duke.”

It was, indeed, much grander than the others. “Help me put it on.”

She should probably have thought about jewelry before she'd done her hair, but together they managed to get the necklace over her coiffure without too much damage. It fell, a cool and heavy weight against her breasts in the vee of her décolletage.

“Oh, aye,” Lana cooed. “That is perfect.”

“Do you think?” Hannah turned this way and that, observing herself in the glass.

“It is lovely. You are lovely.” The deep voice coming from the doorway made her start. She whirled around.

Her heart swelled as she set eyes on her husband, dressed as he was in his kilt. He was always handsome, but never as handsome as he was like this. Something about the costume made his shoulders seem impossibly broad, his legs sturdier, and his visage more savage. He was terribly striking tonight. She clasped her hands and gazed at him. “Dunnet.”