Donnan's Rose, page 3
"I'm sure he'll show later."
"I'm sure you're right. The dowager duchess is trying to get him married and settled, so I wouldn't be surprised if we don't see him paired up with some of the more available ladies."
"You included?"
"No, I'm afraid not. While we grew up together, Donnan is not the sort of rogue I'd want to bring home. If you get my meaning." She smiled as well as she could at Lady Elizabeth without laughing in her face.
"Really? I believe the right woman will come his way, and he'll settle. I hear he's an amazing lover."
"I was unaware you kept company with those sorts of women."
Quickly she turned to face Kent, who was taking a swallow of wine, trying to look as aristocratic as possible. The poor man was a snob and a sniveling one at that. However, it seemed the Lady Eloise Drake was intently watching him from across the table, as he was watching her.
"I see Lady Eloise made it. She's quite good with the pianoforte, Kent. Perhaps she'll play for your mother while she's here."
"Do you know if she's being courted by anyone?"
"I do not. However, if you like, I could inquire. Discreetly, of course."
"Of course. You wouldn't mind?"
"No, not at all. I don't know her well, but she is a sweet, smart young woman, Kent."
"Thank you for doing that for me, Rosalind. I apologize for being so harsh earlier. It's just that Donnan gets away with things none of the rest of us ever could."
"You're both grown. Pursue what makes you happy. One day perhaps Donnan will settle. For now, as long as he's not robbing and murdering people, let him find his own course."
Kent stared at her. "He shot a man with a ladies’ pistol he had in his coat. What sort of man does that?"
"It's a good thing he had that pistol, or you might not be here to tell me the incident," she replied.
"You're right. Again."
A footman stood behind them offering the next course, putting an end to another conversation. Where, though, was Donnan? He usually never disrespected his mother or Rory for that matter. Whatever it was, it had to be important; surely nothing bad had come. The one thing she knew about Donnan was he knew how to take care of himself.
"You still haven't found a suitable husband?" the countess whispered.
"I'm not looking. I'm quite happy to become a spinster. So much more I can do, if you know what I mean."
The countess tried to emulate the look of being shocked, but Rosalind knew nothing shocked that woman. "Yes, I suppose you would be able to move more freely than now."
"Correct. Now I can't be seen alone with a man."
"Yet you went riding alone with Lord Donnan this morning. Or so I heard."
"Lord Donnan is different. He's like a brother to me, and don't try to make something there that isn't. It won't work, my lady."
"I wouldn't dream of it. You are too ill-suited for him anyway."
"I know. Like I mentioned, he prefers his women to be the bawdy type. Whores and the like. You know the kind, don't you?"
Just as the woman was about to say something, the doors opened, and in strode Donnan, dressed for dinner in a dress jacket and kilt. He acted as though he'd simply been napping or something. Rosalind could tell, however, that beneath that cool façade, something more sinister was lurking, and she intended to find out what it was.
"Please excuse my tardiness," he said, walking over to his mother and, like he had that morning, kissed her cheek. "I had some business to attend to in the village, and time simply got away from me."
As he said the words, his dark eyes bore right through Rosalind. Rather than let him try and intimidate her, she stared right back at him. He'd been up to no good. Every fiber of her being told her such. She would find out what mysteries he was hiding before she left.
Rosalind cringed as she sat in the drawing room after dinner with the rest of the ladies. As usual, Lady Pennington was attempting to dominate the conversation with her overtly steamy stories of the men in the dining room. She knew Donnan was soon to be a topic; it was simply a matter of time.
Instead, the countess surprised her, inquiring to Lady MacLeod about the improvements Rory had initiated in the castle. Rosalind wondered what the countess's real intention was, bringing the matter up. She knew the woman never did anything without a reason. Perhaps with her own husband being so old and ill, she was making an effort to discourage her and others from pursuing Donnan. She wanted him as a play thing, then as her husband. Of that she was quite sure, and she also knew Donnan had no interest in the old bag.
"Rory is to be commended for updating the plumbing. It cannot be easy nor cheap to undertake such a task. I imagine such a feat is costly."
"It is, but my son sees it as a way to improve the castle. He's even upgraded the kitchens and servants’ quarters."
"Really? Perhaps if Rory or one of his brothers married a woman with a sinful amount of money, far more could be done with this drafty, old castle," the countess said.
"This drafty old castle has been in the MacLeod family and clan for hundreds of years, my lady. The MacLeods will never leave."
"Ah, but one has. Donnan. Perhaps he needs someone to guide him through this difficult time in his life."
"I assume you mean you, my lady," Lily MacLeod quipped before her mother could turn the conversation from progressing to her rebellious son.
Before the old countess could come back from Lily's remark, the men returned to the drawing room. From their demeanor, it had been the usual talk men had. Sometimes Rosalind thought their conversations more stimulating that what a lady had to endure behind closed doors of a drawing room.
She watched Donnan carefully, discreetly, trying not to draw the countess's attention to what she was doing. He appeared agitated, which she noted seemed to be a normal state for him whenever he was home from wherever he'd been. He acted like one of those caged tigers, walking from the hearth to the windows, never sitting down. As though his mind was a thousand miles from this very room.
Whatever it is, Donnan, I intend to find it out. Of that you can be sure.
Chapter 4
"See that this missive gets in the hands of who it's intended for," Donnan whispered to his faithful valet.
It was the morning of his mother's birthday ball. He couldn't leave or do anything that seemed out of sorts. Not today. Today he needed to smile and do whatever was asked of him and do it graciously. He also knew he could leave tomorrow, but even that might raise some eyebrows considering the way he'd made his arrival. As bad as he wanted to get away from this place he would wait it out yet another day. Thus, no questions would be asked, his mother satisfied at having seen him and spent more time with him than in the previous two years.
"Aye, capt'n. It will be just as you say."
"What have I told you about calling me that? Not here, not anywhere among my peers and polite society."
"Sorry, my lord. A slip of the tongue it was."
"See it doesn't happen again. The last thing I need is for someone to go ferreting around in my business."
"It won't happen again. If there's nothing else, my lord, I'll see to this." He held up the folded and sealed parchment in one hand.
"No, and be on your way."
Donnan watched as the man disappeared through the garden and out of sight. He heard a faint noise behind a tall hedge leading into the labyrinth his mother had designed. It was too loud to be a rabbit or other small animal. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, he could swear he heard the swish of a lady's skirts. Great balls, who the hell could be the source of the noise? Whoever she was, he silently prayed she hadn't heard the entire conversation.
"Whoever you are, show yourself. I can hear you breathing."
He heard a slight polite cough, followed by the sound of skirts rustling.
"Lord Donnan, aren't you full of surprises," the countess of Pennington gushed as she rounded the corner. She had a smile pasted on her face that reminded him of a cat. A cat who'd swallowed a very big canary. Damnation. "What sort of secret missives are you having your man send, captain?"
"Lady Pennington," he replied, bowing. "As you are aware, I have businesses in several areas. Countries even. There's been a matter which has come up since I've arrived. I'm simply trying to take care of it without offending my mother. She expects us to devote our attention entirely on her when we're home. As for my man calling me by that moniker, it is something I'm referred to in some business circles. I do own a small fleet of ships."
He hoped his quick thinking would satisfy the old bat, and she'd move on, though he knew better. Lady Pennington had been eyeing him for quite some time. It was well known in White's and other clubs that she was already on the hunt for her next husband. He would never stoop to her game. The woman was far too obvious.
"I see," she replied pensively. "It sounded much more sinister than all that, Donnan. How about we call it even if you grant me no less than two dances this evening? After the ball, I expect you to join me for cordials in my rooms."
He was about to give her an answer that would make her sputter. Calling him by his given name without his permission was highly offensive. But then everything about Lady Pennington repulsed him.
"Donnan! Here you are. You must come. Baby brother has arrived, and he's asking for you," Malcolm MacLeod said excitedly.
Donnan watched as he regarded the countess and how to address her. Malcolm usually had good reactions. If anyone could charm the old biddy, it would be Malcolm.
"Ah, Lady Pennington. I dinna know you were out here with my brother. You look lovely as always. I know it must wear on you having to be away from your dear husband when he lies so ill in his bed."
"Yes, well, your brother and I were simply remarking at how lovely the garden has matured. Thank you for your concern. It does pain me to have to be away, but he insisted I come pay my respects to your mother and your family."
"I trust it won't pain you too terribly if I take Donnan away. There are a few matters concerning our mother's ball about which I need to speak in private with him."
"I thought you said your brother had arrived?" she countered, studying him sternly.
"Aye, he has. There is something we lads are all planning, and now that he has arrived, we can put it all together."
The countess gazed from one young man to another, both with looks that would not give away the laughter that was boiling under the surface.
"Very well. Remember what we discussed, Lord Donnan. I look forward to this evening, my lords."
Malcolm turned and began walking towards the house. Donnan followed, neither of them saying a word until he was quite sure they were out of the old bat's range of hearing.
"That woman is relentless. Do you know what she proposes?"
"Don't. Don't tell me, Donnan. I don't want that vision in my head all evening at Mother's ball."
"Scandalous and wicked, she is."
"She can get away with it, too. Whatever she wants or expects, I'll see to it you're simply too busy and occupied to pay her any mind. Besides, she'll find another to fawn over."
"I don't know. She seems to have set me in her sights this time, and I don't like it. Not one bit."
"Don't worry about her. I would think you would be spending much time with Rosalind during the time you are here. She's not betrothed, nor have I heard of anyone she's interested in."
"Women. They're trouble, Mac. Even Rosalind. I'm not looking for a wife. I have too much of my own life to live without burdening it with a woman."
"Does the lass know that, though?"
"Aye, if she doesn't, she's daft. Daft is one thing Rosalind is certainly not. Persistent and stubborn, but never daft. She's one of the smartest women I know." He stopped on the footpath and ran a hand through his long black hair. "She says she's willing to be a spinster, but one day before long, I'm certain a suitable man will call on her."
"Who are you trying to convince, Donnan? You sound as bad as Rosalind. You need to get your head out of the sand like one of those birds."
"A woman's the last thing I need. Now can we speak of more cheerful matters, like this once a year spectacle we must endure?"
"Careful, brother. Mother won't be with us forever. You best remember that and tolerate her birthday ball with more respect."
"I meant no harm, Malcolm. It's just that I have a great deal of things that need my attention elsewhere, that's all."
"Whatever it is, it can wait two more days. Then you can be off to wherever it is you think needs you more than your own family."
"You're beginning to sound a lot like Kent and Rory. It doesn't become you, Mac."
"Pretend you're enjoying yourself, and make Mother happy. Is that too much to ask?"
"No. I'll do it for her, but the morning after tomorrow, I am gone."
"Where to this time?"
"Wherever I'm needed."
Donnan continued down the gravel footpath to the house, determine he wasn't going to let this conversation go any further. His brothers were too damn nosey. Everyone was too damn inquisitive about his personal affairs. It would best serve him if he were out and away from all the madness and drama. Rosalind in particular. He was finding himself too unsettled whenever she was near, and he didn't need that. Not now. She had been his friend since they were children. That's where it needed to stop, and the best way to end it would be to leave.
* * *
Donnan paced over to the desk in his suite of rooms and poured a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter James had wisely placed there upon his arrival. It would take more than one to get him through this blasted horrid evening. However, since it was his mother's birthday, he would pace himself a little better. He had no wish to embarrass her, but damn, to get through these hours of pretending to be nice and well mannered made him want to punch a fist through a wall or someone.
He would make the rounds, be as courteous as possible with the guests, and then attempt his best to hide. Stay out of sight away from the empty-headed masses. Lady Pennington and Rosalind both needed to be avoided at whatever cost, each for distinct reasons all their own.
His cock, however, told him something entirely different when it came to Rosalind, and he needed that to stop and stop now. Certainly he'd had these thoughts over the years, but now his lust seemed out of control when it came to her. By all that was sacred, the last thing he needed was for his cock to control him. A woman would be a dangerous thing to get too attached to, and hurting her was the furthest thing from his mind. If anything, he wanted to bury his cock deep inside her. Which was exactly what would have happened if he'd followed her to the clearing in the woods.
He poured another glass of whiskey and downed it before turning around to go and face the music and the ladies. Of all the things a gentleman had to do, going to a social event such as this maddened him more than anything else. He'd rather swim in the loch naked in the middle of January rather than face proper society.
Swallowing the amber liquid, Donnan sat the glass down on a table and slowly closed the door. He could hear the faint sound of the musicians playing and the buzz of people talking. That's what it sounded like, a swarm of bees. He stopped at where the railing leading to the grand staircase began and listened some more. Carefully, he peered down into the huge entry hallway below. He recognized a few couples who'd just arrived, his brother Rory doing his duty and greeting everyone as they arrived. He never did it as London society dictated, in a receiving line. Rory always preferred greeting his guests as their father had in the great hall.
"Who are you hiding from?" he heard a voice behind him say. The voice belonged to his brother, Tavish.
"No one, and I could ask the same of you, but frankly I don't care why you're up here still."
Tavish and Kent had always gone by the rules growing up, and that had rubbed Donnan the wrong way for years. Even now, simply hearing his voice grated on him.
"Ah, yes, the mysterious rake comes home to let Mama pet him before he leaves and goes back to whatever black-hearted things he does."
"Watch your tongue before I cut it out." Donnan sneered, brushing past his brother.
"I'm quite sure you're the one who'll have something barbaric happen to them first. After all, no one has any idea what it is you really do, Donnan."
Ignoring Tavish's taunting, he continued to the top of the stairs and began walking down. How in the hell had he let himself be talked into coming back to his family?
With no one in the grand hall except a pair of footmen, he peered through the open door to the ballroom and noted Rory talking with Lady Guinevere Lindsay. So this is the young woman who had Rory all dimwitted when it came to talk about betrothal and weddings. He certainly appeared to be besotted with the homely creature.
Noting Lady Pennington surrounded by three other women, including his mother, he slipped out of sight, quietly making his rounds and engaging in conversation with people who were nothing but strangers to him. He grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman, trying to determine how to stay out of sight, but still in attendance for his mother's sake. He walked toward a potted ficus plant and stood watching.
Then he caught a familiar scent. Honeysuckle. There was only one woman who wore that scent well. Rosalind. He hadn't seen her yet this evening, but either she'd just been here, or she was quite close by. He inhaled again, the honeysuckle stronger than it had been a second ago.
"Is the great Donnan MacLeod hiding behind a potted plant?” Rosalind said, stepping out of the shadows and towards him. "I never thought you the sort who hid from anything, let alone anyone."
"Lady Pennington? You're familiar with her and her atrocious behavior when it comes to younger men?"
"Oh, my, Donnan. Has she set you in her sights? Has she made you promise to help fill her dance card, bring her refreshment, and perhaps even be naughty and meet her in her rooms?" Rosalind giggled at her words, watching him intently. Or was that lust?
"You know what she does? My god, Rose, you could have warned me. I had no idea the woman had gotten so…so scandalous."
