Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides) Page 3

  “Well, ye say ye do no’ ken her, but ’tis looking like ye want to,” Aulay said dryly.

  Geordie glanced at him with confusion, and then followed his gaze down to his groin where his cock was up, and waving around with excitement at the thoughts that had just been running through his mind. Cursing, he turned and strode into the icy water of the loch, then dove under the surface. Dwyn wasn’t someone he could sow his oats with . . . but he wished she was.

  “Well, now,” Acair drawled as they watched Geordie swim away from shore. “Despite his claiming he’s no’ ready to marry yet, I’m thinking our boyo might be interested in wee Dwyn.”

  “Aye,” Aulay agreed dryly. “So ye might want to refrain from commenting on her fine bosoms again. He did no’ look pleased when ye mentioned them.”

  “That, or mayhap I should woo the lass meself,” Acair said with a slow smile.

  “What?” Aulay turned on him with surprise.

  “Well, I’m a Buchanan too, lad. And unmarried as well as without a keep. I’ve a decade or two o’ good years left in me and could muster up enough energy to plant a bairn or two in a woman’s belly.” Grinning suddenly, he added, “At least, that’ll be me story to convince Geordie he has competition. ’Tis always good to make a lad think he’s no’ the only option a woman has. Makes him appreciate her more. Think on how it was with Dougall when the boys were all hankering to save Murine through marriage.”

  “Aye,” Aulay said thoughtfully, and then shook his head. “So long as ye explain the way o’ things to Mavis. Else the woman might kill ye both in her jealousy.”

  Acair stiffened. “Ye ken about Mavis and me?”

  “O’ course.”

  Acair frowned over that and glanced to Geordie. “Do ye think Geordie kens?”

  “I doubt it,” Aulay said after a moment, and then admitted, “I only ken because Jetta sorted it out and told me. I do no’ think she’s mentioned it to him. She’d protect yer privacy.”

  “Good,” he said with satisfaction. “Then I’ll pretend to woo the lass.”

  “What about Mavis?” Aulay asked. “Will ye explain things to her so she’s no’ jealous?”

  Acair considered that briefly, and then shook his head. “Nay, ’tis best no’ to tell her. Just in case Geordie does ken about her. He’ll expect her to be jealous and me Mavis canno’ lie to save her soul. Besides,” he added dryly, “she’s been a mite testy with me o’ late, and I’m thinking it canno’ hurt to remind her that I have other options too.”

  Aulay raised both eyebrows at this and shook his head. “Ye’ll do as ye like, but it’s me experience that there’s nothing makes a woman more bitter or dangerous than being scorned by a lover. So I’d watch meself around her if ye do pretend to woo Dwyn.”

  Shrugging carelessly, Acair stripped off his shirt and followed Geordie into the water.

  “There you are!”

  Dwyn didn’t bother to glance up from the book she’d been reading when her sisters burst into the bedchamber. But she gasped in surprise when Aileen snatched the book from her hand. Sitting up abruptly, she cried, “Do no’ lose my page!”

  “Oh, I willna,” Aileen said with exasperation, slipping the bit of linen Dwyn kept as a place marker out of the front of the book, and laying it between the pages.

  “Honestly, Dwyn,” Una muttered, grabbing her hand and dragging her off the bed. “We’ve traveled days to get here and win ye a husband, and what do you do? Ye hide in the bedchamber and lie about reading books all day.”

  “’Tis crusading poems by Gille Brighde Albanach,” Dwyn explained, watching worriedly until Aileen set it carefully on the table. “We do no’ have that at Innes.”

  “We do no’ have men there either. At least, no’ the kind ye could marry, and that’s what ye’re here for,” Una said firmly. “Now let me look at ye.”

  Sighing, Dwyn stood still under her sisters’ inspection, unsurprised when they both began to frown.

  “What are ye doing wearing that gown?” Una snapped.

  “’Tis the only gown that I can breathe in without me bosoms popping out,” Dwyn growled unhappily.

  “Well, that is too bad. ’Tis what ye wore to travel here and is filthy. You canno’ wear that to the evening meal,” Una said firmly. “Aileen, fetch her a clean gown. That rose-colored one looks nice on her.”

  “Oh, nay,” Dwyn cried, her eyes going wide with alarm. She’d tried on all her gowns once she’d managed to sneak back into the keep. Not one of the damned dresses fit, but the rose gown was the worst. If she took more than a shallow breath in it, her breasts popped up and out like a vole sticking its head out of its hole to look around.

  “Oh, yes,” Una said firmly. “It looks good with yer coloring. Speaking o’ which—”

  “Ow!” Dwyn jumped back and glared at her sister when she suddenly pinched her cheeks painfully.

  “I was just trying to give ye more color,” Una said with exasperation.

  “Do no’ be mad, Dwyn,” Aileen said quietly, rushing over with the rose gown. “We are just trying to get you a husband. We both feel so bad that we are betrothed while you—”

  “Fine,” Dwyn interrupted on a sigh, and shook her head as she began to undo the lacings of the gown she was wearing. Her sisters, both younger than her, acted like it would be the end of the world if she did not marry. Neither of them could understand her attitude on the subject, and why she was not doing all she could to find a husband, but she knew her value. She was a good woman, and she wasn’t ugly, at least she didn’t think so. But she also wasn’t pretty, not the sort of pretty to draw the eye when pitted against the much lovelier women here at Buchanan anyway. The only way she was likely to get a husband was if someone came to Innes and stayed for a while for some reason. Once they got to know her . . . Of course, that wasn’t likely to happen, so she had resolved herself to being an old maid, or perhaps taking herself off to a nunnery someday in the future. But since it meant so much to her sisters, she would wear the rose dress . . . and hope she didn’t faint from lack of air, or alternately humiliate herself and her family by having her breasts pop right out of it.

  “There,” Aileen said moments later as she finished helping with the lacings and stepped back to examine her critically.

  “The dress looks lovely,” Una said finally. “But . . .”

  “Her hair,” Aileen said for her, and the other girl nodded.

  “Oh! No, wait!” Dwyn cried, reaching up to cover her head.

  “Nay. Ye have lovely hair, sister. Ye should show it, no’ keep it all pinned up on top o’ yer head like— Oh,” Una said with surprise as she pulled several pins from Dwyn’s hair and the golden strands unraveled and fell down her back.

  “My,” Aileen breathed. “’Tis so long. When did it get so long?”

  Una shook her head and moved away. “I’ll get the brush.”

  “’Tis glorious, Dwyn,” Aileen said solemnly, grasping several strands and pulling them out to the side before letting them feather away. “Why do ye never let it down? I do no’ think I’ve seen it down in years, no’ even when I’ve come to harass ye awake in the mornings.”

  “I never let it down,” Dwyn said on an exasperated sigh. “’Tis curly and it gets terrible knots do I no’ keep it up in a bun.”

  “’Tis too heavy to curl anymore. Now it just lies in lovely waves,” Una announced, returning with a brush and handing it to Aileen to hold while she took out the thong that held Dwyn’s hair in a ponytail. Once she had her long hair lying flat along her back, she began to brush it, but asked, “If ye do no’ like it so long, why do ye no’ cut it?”

  Dwyn grimaced at the question. “Mother made me promise never to cut it. She said I would be grateful one day, but . . .” She shrugged.

  “Oh, Catriona and Sasha are going to eat their own tongues when they see Dwyn like this,” Aileen said with excitement as they took in the results of their efforts a few moments later.

  “Aye,” Una said with sa
tisfaction, and then met Dwyn’s gaze and said, “Ye look pretty.”

  Dwyn just shook her head. Her face was the same, it was only the frame that had changed. Her hair was just another distraction like her breasts. The only difference was, at least she could hide her breasts behind her hair if they popped out now.

  Chapter 3

  “Dear God in heaven.”

  Geordie glanced up from his ale at that exclamation from his uncle, and followed his gaze to the stairs where three women were descending. It took him a moment to recognize Dwyn’s sisters, Una and Aileen. He didn’t recognize the woman with them, but his gaze narrowed with interest as he took in her long, flowing hair. It was quite glorious, reaching down to her knees, a shiny curtain of pale gold that seemed to have a life of its own as it swished around her.

  “With those breasts against his chest and that glorious hair wrapped around him, a man would be in heaven,” Acair growled, and was suddenly on his feet, crossing the hall.

  Geordie frowned, his gaze shifting to the blonde’s breasts, and his eyes widened when he recognized that bosom. Large, full breasts were presently doing their best to escape the rose-colored gown they’d been stuffed into and he knew at once that it was Dwyn. Geordie then lifted his gaze to her face, almost embarrassed that it was her breasts he’d recognized first.

  “Dwyn looks nice with her hair down, but why is Uncle Acair acting so strange?” Jetta asked next to him.

  “He’s decided to woo Dwyn,” Aulay drawled with amusement.

  “What?” Jetta asked in surprise.

  “What!” Geordie exclaimed at the same time.

  Aulay shrugged, his gaze focusing on Geordie as he said, “Ye said ye did no’ ken her and were no’ ready to settle down, and he’s a single Buchanan male too. So he’s decided he might like a keep o’ his own.”

  “Oh,” Jetta said with a frown. “I had not thought to include him, because, well, what about Mav—”

  “Mavis,” Aulay said abruptly, smiling over Geordie’s shoulder, and he turned to find the older woman standing behind him, a pitcher of ale in hand and a hurt expression on her face as she watched Acair bow and raise Dwyn’s hand for a kiss. The bow, incidentally, nearly rested the crown of his head against Dwyn’s bosom, Geordie noted with displeasure.

  “Oh, Mavis,” Jetta said sympathetically, and he glanced around to see the old woman rushing away toward the doors to the kitchen, the full pitcher still in her hand. Jetta followed after her with concern on her face, and Geordie turned a scowl on his brother.

  “Do no’ look at me,” Aulay protested, raising his hands. “I have done nothing.”

  “Ye ken Acair and Mavis—”

  “I do,” he acknowledged. “Though I did no’ think anyone else knew.”

  “Everyone else knows,” he said heavily.

  “Aye, well, they are no’ married, any more than you and wee Katie were.”

  “What does that mean?” Geordie asked, stiffening.

  “Nothing,” Aulay said at once, and sighed. “’Tis just that affairs with servants rarely last long, and Uncle Acair is a nobleman just as we are. There is no reason he canno’ marry and become laird o’ Innes if he wishes.”

  “Mavis is no’ just a servant,” Geordie argued. “She’s been like a mother to us since our own mam died. Before that even. She was always like a second mother.”

  “But she was no’ our mother, and she is no’ married to Acair,” Aulay said solemnly. “He is free to woo who he wishes.”

  Geordie opened his mouth to respond, but then paused as his uncle spoke beside him.

  “Here ye go, lass. Ye just sit down here beside me and I’ll have a servant fetch ye a drink.”

  Geordie turned to scowl at his uncle and asked spitefully, “Why do ye no’ ask Mavis? She was here with ale just a moment ago.”

  “Well, she’s no’ here now, so— Katie, love!” he called, smiling past Geordie. “Prey, fetch this lovely lady a beverage, there’s a good girl.”

  Geordie glanced over his shoulder in time to see the dark-haired maid rush away toward the kitchens. He turned back to peer at Dwyn. She seemed a bit flustered by his uncle’s attention; her gaze was lowered shyly, but her face was almost the same color as her gown, and there was no missing the relief on her face when her sisters rushed up from speaking to their father farther down the table and took up position on her other side. They had to make Lady Catriona Lockhart and Lady Sasha Kennedy shove down the bench to create room for them, but the sister named Una had no compunction about making the request. Geordie was quite sure the other two women were about to protest—both of them got spiteful mean looks on their faces—but then, noting that he was watching, Catriona smiled and elbowed Sasha, urging her to the side before leaning to whisper in her ear. Sasha’s eyes darted his way and then away and she moved along the bench.

  Geordie grunted and made a note to himself to warn Alick and Rory about the pair. They were both lovely on the surface, but he’d pity any man who married either of them, and he was damned if he’d have one of those vipers in his family. What kind of woman made a sport of taunting and harassing another one? His brothers’ wives would hate them.

  “Here ye go, m’lady.”

  Geordie tore his gaze from Dwyn’s flushed face, and glanced to Katie when the maid set a mug of ale before the lass. Seeing him watching, the maid offered him a sweet smile that he automatically returned, but it was Dwyn and Uncle Acair who thanked the girl before she hurried off.

  “Geordie?” Aulay said now.

  He saw Dwyn’s eyes widen slightly as she heard his brother address him by name, and realized only then that he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself in the tree that morning. He offered her an apologetic grimace for it, and then turned reluctantly to his brother, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “Have ye had a chance to meet any of the ladies since arriving?”

  A small sound of distress drew his gaze back around to Dwyn. She’d obviously heard the question and was afraid he might disclose what had happened between them that morning. Geordie gave her a reassuring look and then turned back to his brother. “Nay. Although I did see Lady Catriona and Lady Sasha in the orchard. They were chasing after one of the other women, taunting her, and then stopped to sneer at me when they saw me sleeping under a tree.”

  “Oh?” Aulay eyed the women briefly. “Good to know.”

  “They’re Lowlanders,” he pointed out with disgust. Lowlanders were nearly as bad as the English to his mind. You couldn’t expect much from them.

  “Oh, now, there’s nothing wrong with Lowlanders,” Uncle Acair said. “Just look at our lovely Dwyn here. She’s a Lowlander too and a fine figure o’ a woman.”

  Geordie frowned as he realized that was true. Innes was in the flatlands to the east of the mountains that made up the Highlands.

  “Aye, and Innes is on the North Sea. Surely that makes up for not having our lovely mountains,” Aulay suggested, offering Dwyn one of his rare smiles. Although they’d become much more common since the arrival of Jetta in his life, Aulay was still not used to company in his home. This was no doubt a trial for him, but he was making an effort, Geordie thought, and then glanced around as a maid responded to his uncle’s wave and rushed over with a platter of food.

  “Here ye go, lass.” Uncle Acair turned to take the platter and held it in front of Dwyn. “What will ye have? Or shall I feed ye?”

  When Dwyn’s face flushed with embarrassment, Geordie scowled at his uncle. “Can ye no’ see ye’re embarrassing the lass? She can feed herself.”

  “Young men today, eh, Dwyn?” his uncle said lightly. “No romance in their soul. You stick with me, lovey. I’m a man who kens how to treat a woman.”

  Geordie glowered at the man, and then glanced around with a frown when he was suddenly elbowed in the side. Seeing that Aulay had shifted over into Jetta’s empty spot and that he was the one who had jabbed him with his elbow, he raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

  �
�Ye growled,” he murmured, keeping his voice down.

  “What?” Geordie asked with disbelief.

  “Ye did,” Aulay assured him with amusement. “Ye growled at Uncle Acair like a dog whose bone is threatened. Are ye sure ye do no’ ken Lady Innes?”

  Mouth tightening, Geordie stood up.

  “Where are ye going?” Aulay asked with interest.

  “I’m no’ hungry. I think I’ll take a walk about the bailey,” he muttered.

  “Ye’re no’ going to get to know the women that way,” Aulay pointed out with exasperation. “Me wife brought them here for ye, the least ye can do is talk to one or two and see if ye’re the least bit interested.”

  “I am getting to know them,” he assured him. “And I’ve already eliminated two. I would no’ even want the Lockhart and Kennedy lasses in our family let alone me bed.”

  “Really? They are that bad?” Aulay asked, glancing along the table to the two women in question.

  “Aye,” Geordie assured him. “And if Rory or Alick pick them I’ll no’ be attending family occasions in future either.” On that note, he stepped over the bench and strode quickly away from the table. He didn’t slow until he was out of the keep and crossing the bailey. But he couldn’t as easily escape the memory of his uncle making a fool of himself over Dwyn. The man was more than twice her age, by God. Which, he supposed, wasn’t that unusual. Many an old man married much younger women. But Dwyn was a passionate little bundle and deserved a virile young man with a passion and energy to match her own. Someone more like him.

  Cursing under his breath, Geordie started to walk more quickly, and then stopped when he heard his name called in a soft feminine voice. Geordie didn’t question his disappointment when he saw that it was the maid Katie, but merely waited patiently for her to reach him.