Page 3 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

I kenned the lass was strange, but tryin’ to be a scholar?

Oscar resisted the impulse to laugh, suppressing it as he watched the sincere burn of passion in her eyes.

Passion for an impossible hope. He didn’t think much of these universities where only the privileged were allowed to attend, but he knew one thing about them: they’d never accept a woman, particularly one who couldn’t convince the blind that she was a man.

“If ye havenae given up, why are ye beggin’ me to marry ye?” he asked, swirling his whiskey, admiring the way it caught the light. It was the same hue, almost, as her eyes in the firelight.

She cupped her glass with both hands, staring into the flames for a moment. He was glad he hadn’t laughed, with her face a picture of troubled determination. All sincerity.

“I went back to Horndean after my latest eviction,” she said with a soft sigh.

“My father’s carriage was there when I arrived.

I suspect he was inside, waiting for me.

So, I asked the farmer where he was going.

He said he was on his way to Kilmarnock.

.. and I remembered you were nearby. It was a rash decision, I don’t deny that, but it made more sense as the hours went by. ”

Oscar leaned forward in his chair, fascinated by the peculiar woman in front of him. Every sentence that came out of her mouth seemed more outlandish than the last, making him curious to hear what she would say next.

“Let me guess, he’s nae keen on ye shatterin’ the foundation of university education, along with the very foundation of society?

” He took a smaller sip of his whiskey, enjoying the deep flavor of mountains and heather.

“Yer aristocracy cannae have lasses runnin’ around bein’ more intelligent than the lads. ”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Something like that.” She finished off the rest of her glass in one mouthful, grimacing as she swallowed. “My father means to take me back to London, to either marry me off to whichever gentlemen will have ‘a lass such as me’…”

She glanced down at her clothes, and Oscar couldn’t help but follow her gaze, remembering her on the day of Hunter and Grace’s wedding.

The rest of the small congregation had gasped at the sight of the bride, but Oscar couldn’t have told anyone what color the gown was if he’d had a knife to his throat.

He did, however, remember every detail of Maddie’s gown, of how she had looked that day. A resplendent goddess in emerald green and gold, her hair a fiery mane that, even then, he had wanted to twist his hands through.

“Or?” he prompted, letting his gaze wander over the lean contours of her thighs in those tight breeches.

“Pardon?”

“Usually, after an ‘either’ there’s an ‘or’’” he replied, imagining what it would be like to undress her. He had never peeled away gentleman’s clothes before, aside from his own.

She shifted in her chair. “Either I’d be married off or I would be made to serve my sister and her husband, which is absolutely out of the question.”

The harsh edge of her voice intrigued him, unsure of why she’d be so averse to staying with her sister. Surely, that was a better alternative to marriage for a woman who was determined to be a scholar. After some time had gone by, she could probably do whatever she wanted.

Yet, he held his tongue, waiting for her to finish enlightening him.

“On the journey here, I realized that my parents couldn’t make me do either if I was already married to a powerful laird like you,” she concluded, bringing her glass to her lips, only to find it empty. “Someone who might need a quick, beneficial solution as much as I do.”

And why would I do anythin’ to help ye?

He let the question simmer silently in his mind, sifting through the memories he had of her. At their very first meeting, she’d certainly made an impression; one that had stuck in his pride like a fishbone.

He’d moved to kiss her hand, being his usual, charming self.

“With respect, Laird Muir, I wouldn’t,” she’d said tartly. “I don’t allow gentlemen to kiss my hand, so I certainly won’t be allowing you. It’s nothing personal.”

He’d claimed otherwise, but he had taken it rather personally. How could he not, when he couldn’t recall the last time a lady had forbidden him from kissing her hand? Indeed, he was used to ladies begging him to kiss more than that in shadowed hideaways and locked storage rooms.

Afterward, he’d tried to make a point of showing her what she was missing, and what he was accustomed to.

He couldn’t remember exactly, but he’d said something like: “I remember the stuffiness of London. All those rules, all those ladies gazing at me like a curiosity, uncertain of what to make of me wildness. They’d hang on me every word.

Some of ‘em would faint; the excitement of somethin’ different proved too much for ‘em.”

She’d scoffed and rolled her eyes, and when he’d asked if she had something to say to that, she’d replied, “Not at all. I enjoy fictions from time to time. Don’t let me interrupt you, for I’m intrigued to hear your next invention.

Please, continue. I’m just preparing my eyes for their next bout of exercise. ”

She’d infuriated him; she’d clung to his thoughts, leaving him unable to decide if he liked her cold attitude or loathed it. It was definitely different from what he was used to, and that hadn’t changed. She was a... challenge, something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time, if ever.

“So, this really isnae one of yer wee dares?” he said, mulling over the proposal. “I didnae think ye liked me so much, lass, if I was who ye thought of when ye were in trouble.”

Perhaps, I’ve been lingerin’ in her thoughts more than she’d admit. He smirked at the notion, enjoying the upper hand.

“I don’t,” she replied firmly, drumming her fingertips against the side of her glass, “but, at present, you’re my only choice.

And I realize that you and I haven’t existed on the best of terms, but, as I may have said, I am a Lady and you are a Laird.

Your council won’t protest, despite my Englishness.

After all, no one has complained about Grace and Hunter. ”

“Ye’re assumin’ I have any interest in marryin’ or what me council says about the matter,” he pointed out. “I’m nine-and-twenty; they’ve been botherin’ me long enough about marriage that I can drown ‘em out with ease.”

Maddie nodded as if she’d already thought of that. “Then it’s of twice the benefit to you, because I won’t care what you do once we’re married, unlike other ladies who might want the title of your wife.” She got up to refill her glass. “Have all the lovers you want; it won’t matter to me.”

He smiled as she sat back down, clearly fighting to hold onto her composure. Not at all the thrashing wild-woman she’d been on the night he’d had to hold her against him to stop her from leaping out of a moving carriage.

I like a lass with fire in her.

“There’s just one problem with lovers, lass,” he said wryly. “Any bairns ye have arenae legitimate. Now, I dinnae have any bairns at all, for that very reason. But it’s the only reason I’d ever be compelled to marry: to produce an heir.”

She stiffened in her chair, rigid as a statue.

“No, absolutely not,” she croaked, the faintest hint of pink coloring her high cheekbones.

“Out of the question. I... I have too much to do, too much to achieve, and... no. You can have a child with a lover, and we can pretend it’s ours, but I won’t be bearing any children of yours.

I won’t be... making any children with you. ”

He rather liked the barely-there blush, but couldn’t quite enjoy the sight of her so flustered.

It annoyed him, to see her so appalled by the idea of lying with him.

Hadn’t she heard of his famed talents? Didn’t she understand the things he could make her feel, the pleasure he could give, the singular bliss of being explored and exploring in return?

For a lass so keen to learn, she’s nae so bold as I thought.

“Let me be certain I understand what ye’re sayin’,” he remarked, keeping his voice even. “Ye’re askin’ to be me bride, me wife , but ye dinnae want me to claim ye as mine?”

She made a little noise of confirmation.

“Exactly. It’s ideal, really. Grace is so very happy to be raising a child that isn’t of her womb, and I suspect I’ll be just as happy to do the same.

No children of my own are necessary.” She wafted a hand toward the door.

“Choose whichever woman you like the most, have your heir, and I won’t say a word.

And she won’t protest, because her son will be the future Laird of Muir. Everybody wins.”

“Why would I nae just pick a lass who’ll marry me and have me bairns?” he countered, chuckling darkly. “Ah, that’s right, ye said nay lass would have a rake like me, did ye nae?”

She nodded. “Precisely.”

“Nay.”

“No? No to what?” she replied, tapping her fingernails more anxiously against the glass.

Oscar expelled a breath and rose from his chair, setting down his whiskey as he walked toward her. Bracing his hands against the armrests, he leaned in, a flash of that emerald dress bolting through his mind as he gazed down into her wide, hazel eyes.

“Nay to yer terms,” he replied in a silky voice, bringing his lips closer to her ear as he whispered, “The only way for me to marry ye is if I possess ye. Completely. If ye’re me wife, ye’re me wife, nay playin’ pretend.”

Maddie shrank back in the armchair, pushing herself as far into the leather as she could, her face turned away from him.

His gaze admired the slender curve of her neck, his lips craving a taste of that smooth, pale skin.

After all, her arrival had sent his evening’s satisfaction away from the castle, but his appetite had not abandoned him.

“Give me two years,” she murmured. “Two years and I will... agree to bear you a child. In return, during those two years, you must help me find a way to be a true scholar, studying everything there is to know about the things that fascinate me. My passions.”

“As a woman or a man?” he replied, with a wry smile.

She tried to glare at him out of the corner of her eye, stoking a laugh in his throat that he just managed to hold back. “As a woman, preferably, though I can’t promise the clothes will change much. I favor trews where possible, though I will dress ‘appropriately’ at gatherings and the like.”

He drew back, sinking to one knee in front of her, searching the tension in her face. He had no doubt that she was desperate, though he was somewhat curious as to why she hadn’t sought refuge with Hunter and Grace.

There’ll be a reason. She’s one to think of everythin’.

Regardless, her proposal was getting sweeter by the moment.

Waiting two years for an heir was nothing; it didn’t at all mean he couldn’t possess her entirely.

There were plenty of ways to enjoy and be enjoyed without the risk of a child, and he had every inclination to educate her on matters that no university would dare to teach.

“Very well,” he said, taking her glass from her somewhat shaky hands. “We’ll marry in a month.”

He downed the contents, the amber liquid burning pleasantly into his stomach.

“A month?” she gasped, lurching forward to grab him by the shirt. “A month is too long, Oscar! My father will hunt me down and have me back in London before I’ve even tried to squeeze myself into a wedding dress!”

He raised an amused eyebrow. “Or can ye nae wait ‘til ye have me all to yerself?”

She yanked him forward, though he didn’t move as much as she might have expected, forcing her to bring her face closer to his.

“I told you, don’t flatter yourself,” she rasped.

“My parents are already here. At Horndean, I mean. And I get my determination from my father. If I’m not already married, he won’t give up until he has me in that carriage, crossing the border, destined for one of two kinds of misery.

They will take me away, Oscar. This is the only option that is mostly on my terms, so we must.. .”

Her other hand flew to her chest, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she might faint, her expression dazed by the obvious stress of the situation.

Oscar hadn’t seen her so out of control since Grace had gone with John Fitzwilliam to spare Ellie, to the point where he wondered if he ought to grab her and hold her tightly again, pinning her to his chest until she calmed.

“All right,” he said, wondering what he was getting himself into. “We’ll marry in two days. Plenty of time to squeeze ye into a weddin’ dress.”