Chapter Sixteen

Pure pleasure washed over Emily like warm water as Ian’s mouth claimed hers. This was nothing like the tentative brushing he’d just done or the measured kiss he’d given her when she’d fallen. This was a kiss demanding more, and somewhere deep within her, a need emerged.

His lips were soft yet firm, teasing, pressing, yielding. He sucked her lower lip between his, gently nibbling before releasing it. The sensation had her quivering, wanting more. Was she actually doing this? Participating even? As if invisible floodgates had suddenly opened? Angling her head, he positioned her to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance. Her arms curled around his neck as she opened to him, her body melting into his.

“Emily! Where are you? Emily!”

Lorelei’s shouting brought her out of her reverie and Ian’s head snapped up. Before they could untangle, her sister appeared in the open doorway. Her sister’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect open circle as her face turned pink. Emily was probably just as flushed. She certainly felt like it, although from embarrassment or her surprising reaction to Ian, she wasn’t sure. Lord, her body still thrummed, like a finely tuned harp. There was hardly a point in trying to deny what had taken place. She dropped her arms and folded her hands in her lap.

“What is it?” she asked, hoping she sounded as nonchalant as Ian looked. He appeared calm, as though he’d just been interrupted reading a book.

Lorelei glanced from one to the other, her eyes still round. Finally, she found her voice. “Devon just came charging through the castle, shouting something about—sorry, I should not use this word, but he did—the bloody English and history repeating itself.” She frowned. “Fiona went after him and Juliana is looking for you in the old part of the castle.”

Ian sighed and straightened. “I had best go find him before he has a full-blown explosion. He will be hard to control if that happens.”

Emily wanted to ask—desperately—why his brother would react so violently to finding them kissing. Granted, Devon wasn’t fond of her. He’d made quite clear what he thought of Sassenachs. But even disproving of Ian’s affection for her—and she wasn’t really clear if it was affection or a sympathetic reaction to her tale in an opportunistic setting—it didn’t involve Devon. And, as Ian had pointed out, his brother was an adult, not a child, or even an adolescent. So why would he fly into a rage?

Emily gave Ian a questioning look as they both rose, but he shook his head subtly and she understood this was not the time to ask. Lorelei’s expression had changed from shocked to inquisitive and the less said right now, the better.

They followed Ian into the castle where Juliana and Rory were arguing.

“You are going to run after your brother when we do not know where my sister is? We need to find her!”

“And I have to find Devon,” he nearly shouted.

Juliana glared at him. “Fiona’s gone after him.”

“Ye doona understand! She will nae be able to handle him if he—”

“I am right here,” Emily interrupted as they approached. “And I am fine.”

Ian gestured to Rory. “Go. He should be easy to track.”

Rory turned, muttering under his breath about daft females.

Carr appeared from the hallway that led to the library. He gave Emily a brief glance before he turned to Ian. “I think ’tis time for a family conference.”

Squaring his shoulders, Ian gave a curt nod. “Ye are right about that.”

Emily made no attempt to follow him as he left. Lorelei frowned.

“I guess we are not invited.”

“We are not family.” Emily suspected the “conference” was going to be about her, but she could hardly demand to attend.

Juliana gave her a curious look. “Do you know what happened to make Devon so angry?”

“I…” What could she say? “I…”

Lorelei suddenly giggled. “I think I know.”

Emily shot her a warning look, but it was too late.

“What?” Juliana asked.

“I think Devon saw his brother kissing Emily.”

Juliana’s mouth dropped open and she closed it with a snap as she turned to Emily. “You were kissing Mr. MacGregor?” And then, before Emily could reply, she continued. “Are you mad?”

“Oh, yes,” Lorelei chirped. “I saw them myself.”

Emily could cheerfully throttle her sister but resisted the urge. From the look on Juliana’s face, her other sister wanted to throttle her.

She sighed. Obviously, it wasn’t only MacGregors who didn’t approve a match.

…

Ian closed the library door, not particularly surprised to see that his uncles were still here. It had been quite the morning with the outrider delivering his message, the turmoil it had caused the clan—to say nothing of the turmoil kissing Emily caused him—to another of Devon’s angry outbursts. Hopefully, Fiona and Rory would catch up to him before a dragoon did. Ian wasn’t sure his brother could survive another capture.

He looked from his uncles to Carr and Alasdair. He thought he knew what they wanted to discuss—or rather, tell him—but he asked anyway. “What is the subject of this family conference?”

“The Sassenachs,” Donovan said. “Especially the dowager countess.”

He had been right about the subject then. “What, in particular, is the problem?”

“The problem is that she is here, where she does nae belong.”

“I doona see what can be done about that,” Ian answered. “Carr said the deed she showed us is authentic, which means she has a legal right to be here.”

His uncle frowned. “I thought ye were going to persuade her to return to London once ye convinced her that everything was in order here.”

That had been his intention, although with what Emily had just told him about her circumstances, that had changed. He grimaced. If he were honest with himself, he’d been attracted to her since she arrived, although he’d done his best to ignore those feelings. Then, he’d actually begun to enjoy her company—her wit, her straightforwardness, her determination—and their kiss had told him she was not immune to him, either. But looking at his brothers’ and uncles’ faces, this was not the time to announce his feelings. Nor could he reveal what Emily had told him without her permission.

“I canna order her to leave.”

“Ye are willing to let her have Strae Castle?” Broderick asked. “Ye are willing to put her above yer clan?”

“Nae! That willna happen.” At least, he prayed it wouldn’t. That wasn’t a choice he wanted to make.

“And what of the distillery?” Broderick went on. “I have been running it for years. I…” He looked at his brother. “We have made it profitable.”

Carr intervened. “It will continue to be. The contract that was drawn up still gives ye the same profit margin ye have now. And even more in three years when the bottles we’re distilling this year will be ready.”

“But the excess goes to the countess.”

“That seems fair.” Alasdair shrugged. “She was the one who got the London agent to come up here and agree to buy our whisky.”

“However, business is nae the reason we are all in here,” Carr said. “We are worried about Devon and his reaction to Lady Woodhaven.”

Ian sighed. He was worried about his reaction, too. “I will have a talk with him when he returns.”

“I doona think that will help,” Alasdair replied. “He canna even accept the sisters… Lorelei, especially, has done nothing to insult him. But…” He paused. “Ye ken the reason Devon feels the way he does.”

“We doona ken for sure.”

Carr studied him, then said softly, “Lady Woodhaven looks like Isobel.”

“I will grant that their coloring is the same,” Ian replied, “but ye canna compare the countess to our father’s wife.” Lucifer’s horns! Two women couldn’t be more opposite in integrity and honor.

“We doona,” Alasdair said, “but Devon is a different matter.”

Ian sighed again. Devon had been twelve when their father had married Isobel. He had been the most vocal of all of them when their father had told them of his plans. He’d resented, quickly and hard, that his father got married only two years after their mother’s death. “Aye, he is.”

“It didna help that Isobel received…visitors…when Da was away,” Carr said.

“Ye might as well just say it.” Ian felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “Our lovely stepmother was promiscuous.”

“Yer father—our brother—didna deserve that,” Donovan said.

There was no doubt in Ian’s mind that their father had loved their mother with his whole heart. Had, in fact, wandered about like a lost soul, hardly speaking or taking an interest in anything, for a whole year. And then, at an event in Glasgow, Isobel had come into his life. “Nae, he didna.”

“Isobel betrayed the man who loved her,” Broderick said.

Ian nodded his agreement. Vivacious, free-spirited, lighthearted, and bubbly, Isobel had brought their father out of his melancholy, and he’d fancied himself in love once more. Grateful that such a young and pretty woman would agree to become his wife, he’d turned a deaf ear to whatever whisperings arose about her.

But Devon hadn’t. Young and untried, innocent of the nuances that took place between men and women, he blamed Isobel’s behavior on the fact that she was English…and the English had always been the enemy.

…

Emily didn’t see Ian again until the noon meal was served. Since the workers stayed in the fields throughout the day, they were eating in the smaller room near the kitchens. Normally, Ian and his brothers would be out as well, but with everything that had happened this morning—not to mention their “family” conference—they were still at the castle.

She watched him covertly as they sat at the round table, wondering how the talk had gone in the library. Ian appeared calm and collected as did Carr and Alasdair, although they usually did. Rory was the hothead and Devon the rogue, but neither of them had returned. Still, the conversation felt strained, as though everyone were behaving with the best manners.

“Might I have a word with ye?” Ian asked her when the meal was finally over. “’Twill just take a moment.”

Emily had the strangest sensation that his family was hesitant to leave, as were her sisters. All of them seemed to be hovering. Did her sisters think she needed a chaperone? For that matter, did Ian’s brothers know what had transpired in the folly? She felt her cheeks warm as she recalled, in precise detail, exactly what had happened. She glanced sideways at Ian. Had he felt the impact as strongly as she did? Her cheeks grew hot and she pushed the thought away.

“If ye will all excuse us?” he asked. The question seemed to break whatever collective lingering they were doing, for Carr nodded and headed for the door with Alasdair.

Juliana and Lorelei slanted looks at her. “We will be in the solar.”

“Follow me,” Ian said when everyone left. For a moment she hoped he’d take her back to the folly, but instead, he led her to the sitting room across from the Great Hall. He left the door open, but perhaps that was just as well. At least no one could accuse them of improprieties. She felt disappointed, although she knew that was silly.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked when she’d settled in a chair. Ian remained standing and began to pace, his expression troubled. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to tell her that the kiss had been all wrong, and her heart slithered to her feet. It was the first time in her life that she’d felt passion and she didn’t want him to ruin it. She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking.

“I think ye should ken about Devon.”

Emily blinked. This certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting, although it was better than what she’d been thinking. Then again, since he hadn’t mentioned the kiss, maybe it hadn’t meant that much to him. She gave herself a mental shake. First I don’t want him to talk about it and now I do? It wasn’t like her to bibble-babble. “Yes?”

When Ian finished explaining the circumstances of his father and stepmother’s marriage, she nodded. “I think I understand. I resemble Isobel and I am English, so he associates me with her.”

“True, but that is nae all of it.” He began pacing again. “I told ye Devon was captured by dragoons when he was but six and ten… The officer in charge of the company was Isobel’s father. He’d never approved of his daughter eloping with a Scot. Especially a MacGregor, since we had been proscribed for so long.” Ian paused. “Ye can imagine how it went when the man found out Devon was nae only a MacGregor, but the son of the man who’d married his daughter. They probably would have ransomed him in return for Isobel, but she was already dead. So, instead…” His voice trailed off.

Emily gave an involuntary shudder. “You mentioned he was tortured?”

Ian looked grim. “They used him for target practice.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

“Aye. They took him to a field and gave him a head start running. Then they shot after him.”

Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “They could have killed him!”

“’Twas nae the intent.” Ian resumed pacing. “They wanted to scare him into thinking that. I think they made a game of who could fire the closest shot. When Rory brought him home, he was wild, as though he’d lost his mind.”

“It is no wonder he hates the English then.” Emily was quiet for a moment. “Will he ever be quite right?”

“I doona ken. Our father had been murdered but three months before, and Devon took that hard.”

“Murdered?” Emily widened her eyes. “By whom?”

Ian shook his head. “The killer was never found, but an English dagger was stuck in his back.”

A chill slid down her spine. “Dragoons?”

“We are nae sure, but ’tis the reason Devon was snooping around their camp. He thought he might find the killer.” Ian clenched his jaw. “I dinna ken he’d gone until it was too late.”

“You cannot blame yourself for that.”

He grimaced. “I was the oldest. I was in charge.”

Emily frowned. “You were but eight and ten.”

“Old enough to watch over my brothers.”

“Where were your uncles? Why did they not help you?”

“They were nae here. Donovan was living in Inverness at the time, and Broderick had moved to Glasgow shortly after Isobel’s murder to start selling our whisky.”

“So there was no one to help you…or Devon.”

“Well, Cory was four and ten, Alasdair a year younger, and Rory ten. Among us, we managed to keep Devon in control.” He forced a half smile. “Most of the time.”

“It explains a lot,” Emily said. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I thought ye should ken.”

She nodded. “And now that I do, one way or another, I am going to make Devon my friend.”

Whether he liked her or hated her, Devon had become her mission.