It's Getting Scot in Here (The Wild Wicked Highlanders #1)(6)
Niall scowled, putting aside the thought that he’d suggested kidnapping her. That had been one of a dozen ideas thrown at the dartboard. “Do ye reckon we’re mad enough to mean harm to Eloise? She’s a MacTaggert. And she’s our wee sister.”
Something about what he’d said seemed to please her, because Francesca smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. She wanted to be here, but she’d made a previous engagement to go shopping with some friends, and I made her keep to it. As I said, I wasn’t certain how she might be greeted. She’ll be home before dinner.”
“I reckon ye might want to tear up that agreement,” Coll stated. “Ye dunnae know who we are, or whether we might already have a lass in mind for marriage. If ye force us to wed some milquetoast female or other, ye may nae see grandbabies, my lady.”
“I know you’ve had less than a week to conjure some defense against your father’s and my agreement, but that’s the best you could come up with?” she countered. “No grandchildren? You are, after all, speaking to a woman who left her own sons behind.”
“Ye said ye were glad to see us,” Aden put in, scowling.
“I am. I hope that eventually you’ll understand how pleased I am. But the agreement stands. You will all three abide by it, or I will withhold the funds your father has been using for the past thirty years to keep Aldriss Park from collapse. I certainly don’t care about the place. But you do. I can see that.”
“Aye, we do, Lady Aldriss,” Coll growled. “And all our cotters and servants and villagers.”
“Then you know what you need to do. It’s very s…” She trailed off, her gaze on something in the foyer behind them. “Is that a stag?”
“Aye,” Aden returned. “That’s Rory. We keep him in the library.”
“Not in my library, you won’t.”
“I reckon he’d look just as fine on the staircase landing, then,” Coll took up. “Joseph, Gavin. Leave Rory on the stairs, so we can all admire him.” Lifting an eyebrow, Coll turned his gaze back to Francesca.
“Well,” she said, clearly not realizing she’d just lost that argument, or not caring, since she’d won the larger one. “I suppose we can decide on his placement later.” Rising, she walked over to the wall and tugged twice on a gold tassel pull by the doorway. “This does not need to be an adversarial business. For the moment, however, since you are all my prisoners and evidently are disinclined to engage in polite conversation, Smythe will show you to your rooms. Luncheon will be set out in the small dining room between one and three o’clock, and we sit for dinner tonight at seven. If you don’t sit for dinner, you will not have dinner.”
The butler appeared in the doorway. “Yes, my lady?”
“Aden’s seen his, but please show Coll and Niall to their bedchambers.” Inclining her head, she started out of the room. At the last moment she turned around again. “As you’ve read the agreement, I presume you’re aware that one of you is to wed a lady of my choosing. And as you’re the one with the title and inheritance, Coll, I’ve decided it should be you.”
They’d already decided that among themselves, but Coll hadn’t liked losing to begin with. Having it shoved at him all over again wouldn’t gain Francesca any affection. Lord Glendarril stood, all six feet four inches of him coiled and ready for a fight. Moving quickly, Niall climbed to his feet, as well. “Coll said it should be him,” he lied, “so ye’ve nae surprised us, Lady Aldriss, though I doubt ye can find an Englishwoman to match him.”
His jaw clenching, Coll flexed his fingers. “Aye. Ye find me some swooning, untouched lass, then. I reckon we’ll deal as well as ye and Angus MacTaggert did.”
Her cheeks paled a shade or two. “The young lady I’ve selected will make you a fine Viscountess Glendarril, and a better Lady Aldriss when your father does see fit to expire,” she returned, ignoring his other comments. “You’ll meet her tonight at the theater. You may bring one of your brothers; I don’t wish her overset by the three of you all glowering at her.”
“Ye might give me a bloody day to catch my breath before ye bring the axe down on my neck,” Coll snapped.
She sent him a smile that wouldn’t have warmed ice. “There’s no sense in wasting time. What if Eloise and Mr. Harris were to elope? You might lose everything over poor timing.”
Well, this hadn’t gone at all the way Coll had described. Niall would have been amused with the way Francesca had stomped all over him if that wouldn’t have encouraged his oldest brother to punch him. But still, thank God he had at least a small say in finding his own bride, a milquetoast lass like Coll had described, a woman he could bed and then leave behind while he went back to the Highlands and lived as he pleased. “Ye might as well set eyes on her, Coll,” he said aloud.
Coll swiveled his head around. “Niall likes the theater. He’ll join us tonight.”
Niall took a breath. Bloody wonderful. “Och, I’d be delighted,” he lied. Just what he wanted, to spend an evening watching Coll trying to make some weak-willed lass faint from his mere presence. At least, he supposed, if any of the nearby females succumbed as well, he’d have his first chance at finding a weepy, dim-witted one for himself.