Walking into the breakfast room the next morning, Donnan was immediately assaulted by his mother. She sat quietly conversing with his very distant cousin, the Lady Rosalind. It had been some time since he'd seen her and was taken aback by her beauty. Not that she hadn't always been a head turner. They'd always been thick as thieves, and he supposed he never gave her a serious look. She may be his cousin, but he never thought of her as such. She was Rose, his confident.

  "I don't understand you, Donnan. You were always a rebellious child, but ever since you left school, you've been outrageous. It's a wonder you weren't kicked out," his mother exclaimed as she watched him walk towards the table and sit down. His valet hurried over to the food and placed a variety of items on a plate while a footman poured coffee.

  "That's been ages ago, Mother. In case you've forgotten, I was forced to go to university as well. St. Andrews if my memory serves me correctly."

  "There's no need to be smart, young man. You need to do something besides drink and cavort around London, Edinburgh, or wherever else you choose. It's time you got serious about your responsibilities and make something of yourself. It's also time you consider getting married."

  "Why am I being picked on for matrimony? It seems to me none of my other brothers are beating a path to the altar. If and when I find the proper woman, I will marry and not a moment sooner."

  He gazed across the table at Rosalind and noticed a grin on her face. She was fully prepared for what was coming and seemed to enjoy it.

  "I'm not picking on you. Of all my sons, you are the one most in need of some stability. A wife is the only way you might tame your wicked ways, Donnan."

  "Preach to one of them, not me. You're wasting your breath with me." He picked up his fork and speared a piece of sausage and popped it in his mouth, noticing the young woman in the room was desperately trying not to smile. Still. Time to call her out.

  "What say you, Rosalind? Do you agree with my mother?"

  "I believe yes, you should marry. But marry for love, not family obligations. That is Rory's job. Marriage is a long time. Better to be in it with someone you love that someone you barely tolerate."

  "Ah, another woman who thinks with romantic ideals."

  "I'm not bound to marry for family obligations, either; therefore I can wait and marry for love."

  "There is no such thing as love, Rosalind. It's all a physical attraction..."

  "That is enough of that sort of talk, Donnan. Save it for your club, gaming hells, and whores." His mother looked sternly at him, reprimanding keen on her mind.

  Picking up one of the newspapers beside him, he hid behind it, his temper on the edge of eruption. Did she always need to treat him as though he were still a child? In front of Rosalind no less? What? Why the hell should he care what Rosalind thought? She was one person who'd never been critical of his choices, and if she were, she kept it to herself.

  "And what will you do if you don't find this love, Rosalind? Become a spinster?" he muttered from behind his papers.

  "If that's what happens, so be it. I'd rather be a spinster and happy than in an unhappy, loveless marriage." The answer came clear and bold, just like the woman behind the voice.

  "Oh, my!" his mother exclaimed. "Donnan?"

  "Yes, what is it?" he asked, putting the paper to one side so he could see his mother.

  "That pirate, Lucifer! There's a story on him."

  "Pirate? What are you talking about?"

  "Turn your paper over, young man. The black-hearted pirate called Lucifer. Don't tell me, in all your time in London and Edinburgh, you haven't heard talk of him."

  "I try not to pay attention to fairy tales, Mother. That's all he is. A figment of some bored lady of the ton's imagination I'm sure. No one has actually seen this Lucifer fellow; therefore, he's a ghost, an aberration."

  "He's as real as any one of us," the dowager duchess insisted. "They say he's a handsome devil. Haven't you heard that, Rosalind?"

  "That, and I've heard he's a rake to the tenth degree. He steals from the wealthy aristocracy, certain ones in particular it seems. Why is a mystery, but I've also heard he has never hurt or killed anyone."

  "You ladies have been reading far too many of those romance novels."

  "It's been said he's been heard to have a Scottish brogue when he speaks sometimes," Rosalind said quietly, eyeing him closely.

  "Scottish? Robbing the English? How appropriate," Donnan said.

  "What are you talking about?" Rory asked as he entered the room. He walked over to his mother and kissed her on the cheek before helping himself to a plateful of breakfast.

  "They're talking about that rake of a pirate, the one they call Lucifer," the dowager replied. "There's a story in the paper that your brother has in his hand."

  "Really, what has he done now?" Rory inquired.

  "I don't know; your brother won't read it."

  "It's a fairy tale, Mother. The man doesn't exist except in the minds of you ladies. Besides, there are no pirates, just privateers now," Donnan injected, picking up a forkful of egg and eating it without looking at anyone in particular, though he felt Rosalind's eyes on him. Damn woman. She was far too smart, and besides, she loved to tease him. Always had since they were children. If there was anyone who knew him and how and what he thought, it was Rosalind.

  "I don't know, Donnan, there's been quite the talk of him and his ship sailing up and down the coast from Edinburgh and London, then across the channel. Which is where I suspect he unloads his stolen cargo."

  "And still no one has ever set eyes on this Lucifer fellow. He surely must be the devil himself if human eyes can't see him." Donnan snickered, picking up his paper and handing it across the table to his brother. Rory occupied the head of the table, naturally. He was laird, duke, and everything else that went with it. None of that mattered to Donnan.

  "Laugh if you want, brother. I know a few men he's stolen from. Believe me when I say they were not amused by this pirate. He'll hang for sure the moment he's caught. I doubt he'd ever make it to trial."

  "You can't catch a ghoul, Rory."

  Donnan took one last swallow of coffee before pushing away from the table and standing. He needed to get outside. A good ride was just what he needed indeed.

  "Mother, Rosalind, Rory. If you'll all excuse me, I believe I shall go for a ride this morning."

  "Would you like some company?" Rosalind inquired, looking straight at him. "That is, unless your mother needs me to help her with details of the ball, of course."

  "No, go with Donnan, child. There is nothing left to do but await the remainder of the guests now. We have everything in hand for the ball."

  "Go change. Hurry up, Rosalind. You know I detest it when women keep me waiting."

  "You dislike waiting on anyone or anything, Donnan MacLeod. Don't try and fool me with your ways."

  "I wouldn't dream of it. I'll meet you in the drawing room in a half hour. If you're not there, I'm leaving."

  "Fine. Have Mariah saddled for me, please."

  With that, Rosalind stood up and glided out of the breakfast room, leaving Donnan to shake his head. Instead, he eyed his brother and mother looking at him, watching.

  "Not a word, either of you," he said, walking out of the room.

  "I wouldn't think of it," Rory muttered, raising the newspaper to hide his face, so his brother didn't see the smirk on face.

  "Mind your tongue, Donnan. I'm not one of your brothers," his mother said as she watched her younger son leave the room.

  Chapter 3

  Rosalind nervously fingered a stray lock of ginger hair, pushing it behind her ear as she waited on Donnan to appear. They were to go riding, and she had been on time to the drawing room to meet him. In fact, she'd arrived ten minutes early, knowing Donnan's ways. He would pay dearly if he'd tricked her into coming here to wait on him while he was off running around on that beast of his.

  She was about to turn and march out to the stables, when she heard the sound of footfalls on the marble floor outside the drawing room. Donnan strode in with a devil-may-care swagger to his steps.

  "Have you been waiting long?" he asked, a smirk crossing his face.

  "That would depend on your definition of long. Where have you been?"

  "Tending to some correspondence that arrived and needed my immediate attention. You do get correspondence, don't you, Rosalind?"

  She glared at him before gathering her skirts and gliding across the room.

  "Come on, let's ride. That beast needs to run, doesn't he?"

  "Is that a challenge?"

  "Why would I challenge you and that black scoundrel? I don't have to impress anyone with my riding skills." Rosalind tossed her head and continued walking towards the door.

  "Aye, you don't. Perhaps I can give you some tips on how to impress a man and catch a husband."

  "You are a rake, Donnan MacLeod, and are the last person I'd ever think to ask on how to snare a husband. If I wanted one."

  "Oh, you want one. You just haven't found your match yet."

  She walked to the two horses standing with their grooms. Mariah, a dark bay complemented with three white socks and a white star, stood patiently pawing the ground. Rosalind nodded to the groom to walk the mare over to a set of steps so she could mount without assistance. As she settled herself on the sidesaddle, she gazed at Donnan, who was already atop Diablo, his kilt skewed and untidy. As though he were testing her tolerance. Donnan wore his kilt proudly, refusing to bend to any Englishman who might have a distaste for Scottish dress among men. He was a rebel and it had always been something that attracted her to him.

  "Are you ready?" she asked as she urged the mare over toward the towering black monster.

  "Aye, though the question is, are you?" He had a devilish grin on his face as he clucked to Diablo, the two off in a cloud of dust.

  Without thinking twice, Rosalind followed him, encouraging the mare on. The route Donnan was headed on would take them around the loch, but suddenly, as quick as he'd begun, he turned the stallion to the left, heading away from the water and through the meadows. At one point, the castle had been inaccessible except by barge or boat. Now, thanks to MacLeod ancestors, a road had been built. One they both knew quite well.

  Where was he headed? Donnan was testing her, trying to see how far and how fast she'd go to keep up with him. It may have been a while, but he should know her far better than to think she couldn't or wouldn't. In her eyes, she was as good a horse person as he was. If not better.

  Finally, windblown, the horses breathing heavily, Donnan slowed down to a walk. She came up beside him and looked at his disheveled appearance. Rosalind knew this was one pleasure, one simple pleasure he loved and took full advantage of when in Scotland.

  "I see you still know how to stay with me." He nodded, a grin on his face.

  "Of course. I'm simply curious as to why the change of course."

  "I don't like to be predictable. We always go around the loch, or close to it. Everyone knows our routine."

  "So you thought to throw everyone off if someone was looking for us."

  "Aye," he replied, patting the stallion on the neck, giving him rein to stretch his neck.

  "Who do you think would possibly want to look for you?"

  "Any one of my brothers. Perhaps with the exception of Rory. He knows to leave me alone."

  "Kent and Malcolm are the only ones here, unless Wallace or Tavish has arrived," she replied, letting Mariah have her head as well.

  "Kent is afraid of his own shadow. Wallace? Who knows when he'll arrive, and Tavish won't be here until this evening."

  "How would you know all that? You barely stay in touch with Rory."

  "Mother. She sent me a long letter telling me of everyone's planned arrivals."

  "Ah, I see. Tell me something, Donnan, why do you keep a distance from your family, people you were once close to?"

  "Are you including yourself in that?"

  "Yes, I am," she said boldly.

  "I am a younger son, as you know..."

  "Don't give me that ‘younger son, I have no responsibilities’. Obviously you do something to make money and keep yourself going. Rory doesn't fund you."

  "Nor would I allow him. He's laird, he's duke. Let him have it. It's what he was trained for. I simply wish to be left alone to do what I want in life."

  "And what is Donnan MacLeod's purpose in life? Gambling, whoring around like the scoundrel everyone but me believes you to be?"

  "Do not ask me questions I cannot answer, Rosalind."

  "So we're back to the mysterious Donnan? What happened to you since you left school and university? What's become of the boy I used to love to pester and follow around?"

  "He grew up and became a man you don't need to get close to, Rosalind."

  "Bollocks. I don't believe that for one second, Donnan MacLeod."

  "Rosalind, a word of advice? Forget about me. I'm not a man you need to be involved with."

  "I didn't know we were anything but friends. Close friends, I thought."

  "Leave it at that."

  "Never," she replied, gathering the mare's reins and urging her on down the dirt path toward a group of trees. It was where a secret place they shared sat.

  Donnan cursed under his breath as he watched her tearing down the road to the forest.

  Damn, infuriating woman. Why can't she do as I ask?

  He dug his heels into Diablo's side and began to follow her. A woman like Rosalind was precisely what he didn't need in his life. All he needed was a whore, not some well-bred, refined lady like Rosalind. Damn her! She stirred feelings within him no one else ever had, and he couldn't have it. Not now. Not while he was in the middle of this business of his.

  Rosalind didn't let up with the mare until they were inside the woods. Only then did she slow the mare down to a walk. She was determined Donnan was going to open up to her and tell her whatever this mysterious enterprise was. No more was he going to try and appease her with his over-blown stories. Neither one of them was getting any younger, and no other man intrigued her like he did. There had always been a chemistry between them, one which he liked to pretend didn't exist. No more. No more. She wanted no other man but Donnan MacLeod. She'd become a spinster before she looked at another.

  "Where in hell do you think you're going?"

  "Oh come on, Donnan. Don't tell me you've forgotten the clearing we used to spend hours at talking."

  "We were children, which if I may remind you, we are no more."

  She stopped Mariah and stared at him. "What are you hiding? What's really going on with you?"

  "Not a thing. It's your overactive female imagination."

  "Liar. That may work with your mother, but it doesn't work with me. Now I'll ask you once again, what's going on? You kill a man on your way here with no emotion, stories fly around Edinburgh and London about how cold you are. It's as though you're trying to keep people away from you."

  "You know I've never played by society's polite rules. That's for people like Rory or Kent."

  "Donnan, this is me you're talking to. Not your mother or one of your brothers. I think you would remember I know you better than most."

  "Perhaps you did, Rose. At one time you might have, but no more."

  He called her by his pet name for her. One he only used when they were in private. So she hadn't lost him. Not completely. She would find out what the truth was with him. Even without his help.

  "So you say. I refuse to give up on you." She began to dismount, but he stopped her.

  "Don't. We need to head back. There's no time for such foolishness right now."

  "Foolishness? Is that how you think of our friendship?"

  "Rose, I know you. I can't. Find yourself a decent man to marry. I can't get involved with any woman. Ever."

  "We'll see about that, Donnan MacLeod. Perhaps not today, but mark my words, I aim to get to the bottom of whatever mystery you are harboring," she replied, turning Mariah around. She brushed against him as she passed him. They both stared at each other. He didn't fool her in the least. "Oh, and Donnan? You might want to lower your kilt a little more. Your bits are showing."

  With that she bolted ahead of him and out of the way.

  * * *

  Dinner was lively that evening. More family and even some guests had arrived. The ball was in three nights, meaning the castle would become like court. A mass of humanity.

  Rosalind looked around the table after being seated. She hadn't seen Donnan since their ride late that morning. He hadn't even been behind her when she arrived back at the stables and dismounted. She'd kept her eye out for him, but the brooding, mysterious Donnan hadn't shown himself.

  "He's not here," Kent whispered to her. He was seated on her right, much to her chagrin. In her eyes, the man was, well, she thought he needed to be more of a man, rather than acting the way he did. Sniveling.

  "Who?" she inquired innocently.

  "Don't play coy with me, Rosalind. I know you're seeking Donnan. Truth is, no one has seen him since the two of you went galloping off this morning.

  "Knowing your brother, he'll make a grand entrance. He's such a rake."

  "Which you seem to love, don't you?"

  "It’s better than the alternative," she replied demurely and quickly turned her attention to Lady Pennington. The woman was a notorious gossip, but if it kept her from having to hold a conversation with Kent, so be it.

  The problem with Lady Elizabeth Pennington was that she was married to a very old earl, who also happened to be in declining health. That never stopped her from traveling or doing whatever she wished. Her son would soon be earl, and as a dowager countess, she'd never have a worry.

  Lady Pennington also was a vivacious flirt, and Donnan had been in her sights for years. No matter how polite he was in rebuffing her advances, the more she tried.

  "I haven't seen Lord Donnan this evening. Is it true he shot a man in cold blood on the way here?"

  "The man was a highwayman. As to where he is, well, he does detest gatherings like this. I'm sure he's with some whore somewhere quiet," she replied dryly.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19