His Lass Wears Tartan (16 page)

Sliding her hand out of his damp grasp without rolling her eyes, she said, “No, seriously, even once the inspectors are done with their work, we, uh, have a family wedding scheduled for the summer solstice. No outsiders will be allowed in Baillie Castle for privacy.”

He’d stopped listening and stared over her shoulder with a strange look on his face. She realized with a start her old room was behind her, the door opened to show the wrinkled bed. His eyes flashed red.

“Well, it would be rude of me to intrude on such a personal, familial event. Weddings are such magical events of words and music. I could stay in town until, perhaps, you permit me a long-term sabbatical afterward. I feel a bit adrift.” He dropped his eyes and extended his bottom lip. “Spending the summer with you where I could lick my wounds in your care would bring my writing back to life, I’m sure.”

His lips pulled into a sly grin as he took another step toward her, and though she hated herself for it, she retreated, finding herself nearer the little room’s doorway. “Or I would be most excited if we could make it a double wedding, my dear. And make me the happiest man in the world.” He wrapped his arms around her with an unbelievable quickness.

She didn’t blink. “Does that line ever work for you in the real world or just the fantasy ones you create, sir?”

“No, this usually does,” he said, and he leaned in for a kiss.

Before their lips touched, Rogue jerked her head to the side. “Let go of me, Jonathan.” She struggled against his solid hold. “You’ve overstepped your bounds, and I demand you leave the castle grounds at once.”

“Not so fast, vixen—you don’t want to break my heart, now do you? I’ve been dreaming of seducing you all week.” He lifted her up with ease and, in three long strides, threw her on the bed.

Before she caught her breath, Jonathan bent down and grabbed a piece of lacy fabric off the floor.

“Well, well, well.” He twirled the torn panties.

“Don’t even think about it,” she threatened, pulling her legs up in a crouched position.

“Oh, but indeed, I have given it much thought, and I will take you up on that dare.” He stood over her. “I will make you mine, you delicious heiress. Relax and enjoy the experience.”

“Over my dead body,
arsehole
.” She started to bolt from the bed.

Shoving the woman with one hand, he slammed her back on the bed, knocking her head against the back wall.

From the other side of the doorway came a heart-stopping, inhuman scream. Jonathan jerked and yelled in her face, “What was that?”

Slipping into unconsciousness, Rogue didn’t answer.

A moment later, a violent crack of wood splitting was followed by a second unholy scream as if from the underworld. Jonathan watched in terror as Dougal’s massive black body crashed through the demolished doorway, his chest heaving and muscles rippling as he rose up on his hind legs, clawing the air with his enormous hooves. One gashed Jonathan across the face, leaving an open, bleeding cavity as he slid to the floor. Rearing again, Dougal brought his front hooves down onto Jonathan’s knees, crushing them into pieces.

• • •

“That’s Dougal,” Baillie shouted, jumping up from her bedroom chair. “Kai, quick, get out to the stable.” He disappeared before she could bolt toward the door.

Kai materialized next to the wild horse twitching with nerves, snorting viciously, and scanned the area. Seeing Rogue unconscious on the bed and a bloodied Jonathan passed out on the floor, he soothed Dougal, reaching his hands under the damp, black mane. “Gentle, laddie, we need him alive, no dead, yet.”

Reaching for his limp niece, he yelled in pain and fury. Holding her in his arms, her head rolled back, he rocked her gently, dropping his head and whispering Gaelic as a tear splashed on her cheek.

Kai heard a growl at his feet, and Diva crouched with her ears flat against her head. He swiped an arm across his face. “Keep an eye on him, girl. Don’t let him move nor let Dougal finish him off. Aye, we need answers from this abominable snake.”

Pounding footsteps stopped inside the stable. Baillie and Putney both tried catching their breath.

“Did ya see that dog run out of the kitchen as if the devil himself was chasing her?” Putney gulped for air. “I barely got the door open, and she flew across the moat, her feet dinna touch the ...” She spotted Rogue, limp, pale moving slowly in thin air. “Lord, help us.”

“Kai.” Baillie kept her voice calm. The tension between the man and beasts in the crowded room could explode like a hair trigger. “Put her down for me. Let me look at her, okay?” The girl’s body floated back toward the mattress.

Kai refused to look at Baillie. “I need to get Dougal back in his stall before he takes the life right out of that good for nothing on the floor.” Kai moved and kept a steady hand rubbing Dougal’s damp neck. “Tell Putney to watch herself as I bring him around.”

“Kai needs to move Dougal, Putney. Watch your feet, between Diva and that horse, there isn’t much room.” The cook had her apron to her damp face, tears running down her cheeks. “Go tell the temp staff to stay inside, please.”

Baillie climbed up on the bed. “Rogue.” She patted the girl’s cool hand and face.

“Ow, what the ...” Rogue tried to sit up, rubbing the back of her head. “Where’s that
arsehole
, Jonathan? I have such a headache, Auntie.” Her breathing came faster. “But that
eejit
of a man shoved me like he thought he was going to have his way with me, and I was going to rip him apart, but I don’t remember what happened after that. I do know my bloody head hurts.” Her words rambled in short, sharp bits.

Baillie gave her a quick squeeze. “I’ll bet it does. Got yourself a fine knot growing back there. As for Jonathan, I’ll be calling the police and will mention they need to send an ambulance. That man isn’t walking out of here anytime soon.”

Rogue swung her legs down and noticed Jonathan’s bloody body on the floor. “What the hell happened to him?”

“Uh, Dougal seems to have taken certain matters into his own hands, so to speak. I don’t think that horse liked Jonathan very much.”

“Great, now he’ll probably want to sue us. He’s a little obsessed with the castle.” She stood up, pushing Baillie’s hands away. “I’m fine, honest.” She walked over to Dougal’s stall and put her forehead against his warm neck. “Good job, my Dougal. I thought I had it handled, but you took him down just fine.”

• • •

“Well, that was a rather eventful day.” Rogue patted the mattress, and Diva leaped up next to her. “If I’d lost any interest in Jonathan after the annoying dinner with the writers, today sure put a cap on the subject. How did I think he was classy and mysterious?” She snorted. “The heart’s a crazy thing, Diva. Now what do ya think about Bruce?” Diva’s tail thumped against the bedspread.

“Aye, I feel the same way. He’s a nice guy, and I feel, I don’t know, happy when I’m with him. He makes me laugh. Maybe there’s more there than I realize. I can’t wait to see him again, once he’s back in town.” She turned off the light and, before long, was sound asleep.

• • •

Snuggled under a soft blanket, Rogue trailed her fingertip across Bruce’s damp, bare chest. A fuzzy, golden glow surrounded them. A pile of tartan lay on the floor, the Bruce clan pattern of bright red and green, along with the more somber blue and green of the MacKenzie clan.

“I canna believe you used to sleep out here when you had a whole bloody castle right there. Just you and a stable of horses, silly woman.” Bruce brushed a lock of wet hair from her naked shoulder. His eyes dark with passion, he readied her to take him into her body.

Rogue couldn’t see anything beyond the glowing vision of their intimacy. A soundtrack of Celtic music enhanced the dream.

“Marry me, my wild lass,” Bruce whispered. “Stay with me forever and a day beyond your world.”

“I love ya something awful, I do, Bruce MacKenzie. And we’ll have lots of children.”

He stopped, his eyes welling with tears as he looked down at her face. “Aw, I love you so much, Rogue, but I canna give you children according to the doctors in the city, and here we both be orphans. I’ll understand if you chase me from yer bed this very minute, I will.”

Rogue smiled in her dreamlike state, clutching his bare butt. “One of those pesky foibles. I guess you do have foibles. Kiss me, now.”

As Bruce granted her demand, covering her mouth with his, the vibrant colors and flashing images in her mind faded back to black.

“Your queens have arrived, my dear people.” Gillian sniffed, posing inside the kitchen door in a perfectly fitted custom-made suit for a moment before continuing to the oak kitchen table.

Rogue let out a soft squeal, clapping her hands together as she pushed past him to the heavy wooden door where more shrieks came from.

“Global warming is highly overrated.” Gillian rubbed his manicured hands together, moving closer to the hearth. “Have you checked your calendars? Spring is nearly over, and it feels like the eternal ice age over here. Girls, get your selfish tiaras in here before I get frostbite.”

The group sounded like a parade making their way inside, arms linked in Rogue’s. “Darling, you look terrible.” Rafael bent her head down, kissing Rogue on the cheek. “We’re here now. Gillian, your tone’s a bit prickly, even for you, our blond god.” She unwrapped her cashmere muffler, peeling off layers of expensive, colorful outerwear.

“What’s his rage gauge off the needle for this time?” T-Cup flipped back, also kissing Rogue, tilting her chin up to reach her face. A deep groan near the hearth broke the group into giggles. “We’re ba-aa-ck. Did you miss us?” T-Cup spread her arms over her head like a Vegas showgirl, twirling in circles.

Putney smacked T-Cup with a wooden spoon before enveloping her in a hug. “Aye, ya rascals, you always bring rays of sunshine with you when you visit us.” She wiped her eyes with a kitchen towel as she beamed.

Rogue brought out cups and saucers, taking deliberate steps. “Tea time! C’mon, we’ll catch up on the latest dramatics going on.”

Gillian raised his perfect eyebrows. “Looks like you’ve taken the worst of it, little one. Tsk, you’ve shadows under your eyes, and your hair has no bounce, no shine. Haven’t you been moisturizing? Have they kept you locked in a dungeon?”

“Uncle Gillian,” she whined. “Don’t start on me.”

Rafael stretched her almost six-foot frame toward the ceiling before folding in half to touch her painted toes. “I’ll sip and stand, darling. My perfectly contoured butt will revolt if I dare sit right now.”

“Your butt is always revolting,” T-Cup panned, snapping a strand of her strawberry blond wig over her shoulder. “But she’s got the right idea.” Mirroring Rafael, she bent at the waist and, holding her ankles, stretched her legs, her tight hips up in the air in deep-emerald satin jeans, her nose pointed at the ground.

Robbie shuffled in and gasped at the sight in front of him. “Does the invasion never stop? First dead bodies, and now them glitter boys back among us.”

Rafael and T-Cup squealed in ear-piercing tones, rushing to envelope the old man first. Their heels clicking across the floor. With no place to duck and hide, he endured the pawing and hugs.

Rogue laughed. “Aye, I’ve missed ya both something fierce.” She poured boiling water into two ceramic teapots. Setting them on a wooden tray, she brought it to the table, breaking the girls’ attention from Robbie.

“Le sigh, le purr, you both practically smothered the poor man. I expect you to carry your own bags to your rooms as penance.” Gillian added a splash of milk to his cup before pouring the tea. Perfectly contoured in a dark navy suit, his long, golden curls pulled back, Gillian’s presence demanded respect and adoration.

A grateful snort from Robbie was the only response as he combed his gray hair with his fingers before sitting at the table.

After a sip, Gillian looked at both Rafael and T. “You’re staying down the hall from Baillie, so move to the right after going up the main stairs. We each have a room.”

T-Cup giggled. “I wonder if we’ll hear Lord Kai and his blushing bride-to-be through the walls.”

Gillian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be rude.”

Rogue nudged T with her elbow and set her head on her friend’s soft shoulder for a brief second. “Ya loose-tongued devil. Wait’ll Miss Diva sees your tiny hide. The wee pup now stands on her back feet taller than myself.” She pulled a chair from the table and, before sitting, slid a saucer over. T sat in the chair next to her.

Rogue whispered, “And I have so much to tell you. Secrets.”

“No way!” Perfectly designed eyebrows pointed to the ceiling. “You have to tell me. You’ve gone through so much; it’s an Elizabethan telenovela around here.”

“Aye, and my heart will be forever broken if we canna solve the problem of finding my Bruce.” She straightened in her chair.

T started to ask Rogue questions, but a knock at the back door interrupted the various conversations around the room. Before Putney could move, a delivery man from Bruce’s shop walked in with a box of produce in his hands.

“Come in, set the box on the counter, lad,” Putney glanced behind her to Rogue and shrugged.

Gillian sauntered behind Putney, putting his hands on her shoulders. “What is this?” He eyed the tight jeans and Pendleton shirt as the young man headed back through the door. “Me thinks more than a few things have changed since last we were here.”

Rafael let go a soft whistle, batting her eyelashes. “My, my, I do like the zucchini on that one. I think I have competition already.” She giggled. “Girl, your cheeks look like overripe tomatoes.”

Rogue choked on her tea; her cheeks felt flaming red. T-Cup slapped her back. “
Mija
, it’s gonna be all right. We’re just teasing, honest. We’re here for you. But who is that hunk of prime meat? You can’t blame us for asking.”

“Shh,” Rogue snapped as the man came back with a larger box and a clipboard under his arm.

“Is this nae what you ordered?” The young man hesitated at the sudden silence in the room. “Have I made a mistake?”

Gillian leaned against the counter, relaxed. “Not at all. Set it right here next to me, my good man. I am Gillian Nation from the United States, and these,” he waved an arm toward the table, “haven’t had the pleasure of a proper introduction.”