Page 41 of Glasgow Rogue

“I still doona like the idea,” Niall said later that evening when everyone was gathered in a room that served as a library. “Curtis could nae guarantee Annie’s safety on return.”

Annie looked down at the letter in her lap that she had folded and unfolded dozens of times. “The instruction is pretty clear.”

Niall scowled and resumed the pacing he’d begun earlier. “The command, ye mean.”

She sighed. “Does it matter which word we use? The letter says I must appear before the magistrate within a week or be considered a fugitive. I doona want to be placed in gaol.”

“Ye can take my fastest carriage,” Ian said from his place on the sofa next to Jillian.

“’Tis nae need for a carriage,” Annie replied. She didn’t even want to think about the perilous winding road down to the loch in anything with wheels. “We brought our horses and ’twill be faster to ride.”

“Do ye want me to send some men with ye as guards?”

“’Tis nae need for that either,” Niall said. “We will catch a ship to Oban and, from there, ’tis nae more than three days to Glasgow. We will stop well before dark each night, so nae need to fear brigands.”

“I understand your need for haste in getting Annie away from Glasgow.” Jillian gave Niall an appraising look. “But have you thought of the repercussions if the two of you arrive without a chaperone of some type after several nights on the road?”

Annie drew her brows together. The flight from Glasgow had been so hurried, and with Niall wounded, she hadn’t given much thought to propriety.

Besides which, she had been disguised as a lad until they got on board the ship.

She could dress that part again for the journey, but arriving in Glasgow with only Niall as an escort—and facing a different sort of interrogation from her mother’s—did pose a problem.

“I wish I could accompany you,” Jillian said and then held up a hand to quiet Ian as his face turned thunderous, “but with the bairns still small—”

“We can go!” Caitlin practically shouted.

“Aye! Let us go!” Caylin was only marginally less loud than her twin. “We’ve only been to Glasgow once!”

“And Glasgow is probably still recovering,” Ian said.

Jillian shook her head. “You girls are too young to serve as chaperones.”

“We are near five-and-ten,” Caitlin muttered.

“Practically grown-ups,” Caylin added.

“Nae. ’Tis the end of the discussion,” Ian said.

“Aye. ’Tis the end of the talk,” Niall stated. “I have already decided the best course to take.”

“Which is?” Jillian asked.

“I will marry Annie before we leave,” Niall answered. “Do ye have a priest that can be summoned?”

Annie stared at Niall, speechless.

Ian nodded. “Aye. I can have him here tomorrow.”

“Wait.” Annie finally found her voice. “What kind of a daft idea is that?”

“’Tis an excellent idea,” Ian said. “As your husband, Niall can legally protect ye.”

“How…” Annie started to sputter as she completed her own thought. “Be-because I…I will be his property! Is that it?”

Niall frowned. “I dinnae mean it like that.”

Annie turned on him. “But ’tis true. A woman is considered chattel, according to English law. Ye would own me.”

“I cannae change the law—”

“If I might interrupt?” Jillian asked and looked at Annie. “’Tis nae so bad to be married—”

“’Tis nae so bad?” Ian glowered at her. “’Tis nae so bad?”

Jillian smiled at him, unfazed, and leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “When you are bad, you always make it up to me, do you not?”

Two spots of color highlighted Ian’s face, which would have been comical given that he usually looked more ready to do battle with a whole army, but Annie still couldn’t get her thinking straight. Jillian turned back to her.

“I cannot speak for how Niall feels—and this is certainly not the place for that—but he is a good man who will treat you well and take care of you always. I am sure about that.”

“Aye, I’ve proved myself on that point several times,” Niall said and looked at Annie. “Have I nae?”

Annie nodded reluctantly and looked down at her hands.

Niall had gotten her out of several dangerous situations, even if she didn’t count the last one.

But he had done so out of a sense of honor.

That was not a reason to get married. If—and it was a huge if—she ever got married, it would be because the man loved her.

She nearly gasped as the full impact of that thought struck her.

She’d never considered herself a romantic—she’d only read parts of Pride and Prejudice and thought some of the sentiments rather silly—but yes, if she were going to allow herself to be owned according to English law, then by all that was holy, she’d have to be convinced the man actually loved her.

Annie glanced up at Niall and then past him to focus on an oil painting of Ben Nevis, majestic and towering, yet tranquil as well.

Hardly what she was feeling. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to Niall and, if the ride home had been an indication, he was attracted to her too—at least that he wanted her body.

But Broderick had wanted that as well. Coupling did not constitute love.

“I am truly grateful for all the times ye have been by my side when trouble called,” Annie said. “Ye dinnae have to do that.”

“I told ye weeks ago that I would be responsible for ye. That has nae changed.” Niall shrugged. “We may argue, lass. ’Tis in our blood. But I will never harm ye. Ye have my word on that.”

“I believe ye,” Annie said as she stood, “but my answer is nae. I will nae marry ye.”

****

Niall leaned on the rail of the ship as it approached its berth in Oban’s harbor and shook his head.

He’d been shaking it so much the past two days, it was a wonder his brain wasn’t addled.

Annie Ferguson had to be the most perverse, stubborn female he had ever met.

Not only did she refuse a very practical proposal that would have kept her safe, she wouldn’t even explain why she was so adamantly mulish.

Every time he’d tried to bring it up on the journey south, she’d simply smiled and thanked him for his offer and then added that she didn’t wish to discuss it.

Well, he wanted to discuss it and, by God, he would before they reached Glasgow.

He understood—he really did—that Annie didn’t want to be dependent on a man.

Margaret had much the same temperament, and from what Niall had observed about Bridget, she had an independent streak as well.

Still, she had married Alasdair. And Niall didn’t expect Annie to give up her Progress Club activities.

He’d even told her so at least twice since they boarded the ship.

He didn’t expect her to sit inside a house all day working on needlepoint or watercolors.

Hell, he really didn’t know what he expected.

Or why he couldn’t just let go of the idea.

It wasn’t as though he had been actively seeking a wife.

Marriage was something he figured he’d put off for another five or even ten years.

And he’d envisioned—more or less—that the lass would be biddable.

Certainly a word that would never apply to Annie Ferguson.

Marriage to her would be a constant uphill battle of challenges.

But maybe that was what he wanted and he just hadn’t recognized it before.

He couldn’t recall a single animated or thought-provoking conversation he’d had with any female he’d bedded.

Dialogue before coupling was intended to reach that goal.

Talk afterwards consisted mostly of satisfied murmurings and not-so-subtle invitations from his bedmates for repeat performances, which he rarely did since he didn’t want any female to get too attached.

All those romps had been pleasant and he’d taken care not to leave any girl with a by-blow, but that’s all the experiences had been.

Enjoyable, if somewhat blurred, interludes.

He suspected a first time with Annie would be seared into his brain like a brand from a hot iron.

There, perhaps, was the crux of it. Niall wanted Annie like he’d never wanted any other woman.

As irritating as her tenacity could be, he enjoyed sparring with her.

She was opinionated, but those opinions were well thought out.

Annie didn’t back down from an argument or from much else either.

He admired her spirit and her spunk, even if it did cause him more than an occasional headache.

And he knew damn well he was lying to himself if he thought one time was all he would need.

He wanted Annie in his bed every night, having hot passion explode between them, then lying with naked bodies entwined as they slept.

He wanted to wake up to her every morning and start the day by sucking her nipples to hard peaks and then plunging between warm, wet thighs. His cock hardened.

“They are leading our horses down the plank,” Annie said from behind him.

He swiveled, careful to make sure his coat was shielding his wayward shaft.

He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t even realized they had docked.

“Aye. We’ll give the animals a few minutes to get used to solid ground again and then we’ll be off.

” He looked up at the sun’s location. “We can probably make Crianlarich by nightfall.”

“A night at an inn would be wonderful,” Annie replied. “Even though the captain gave me his cabin, I doubt I will ever get used to the movement of a ship.”

Niall grinned. “At least ye did nae turn green around the gills this time.”

She nodded. “There is that. I will be glad, though, when we get to Glasgow.”

He started to say, once more, that she would be better protected as his wife, but decided to hold his peace. Perhaps tonight, settled in front of a warm fire at the inn, a hearty meal, and a tankard or two of ale, Annie might be more amenable to listening to his proposal.

The cook gave him a small sack filled with the biscuits sailors called hardtack along with some surprisingly soft cheese and dried venison. Twenty minutes later, Niall turned their horses onto the path inland.

“Are ye sure we will make the village by nightfall?” Annie asked several hours later as the sun was past its zenith.

Niall glanced up at the sky. “’Twill be close.”

“How close?”

“Perhaps by an hour or so. We may need to make camp tonight.”

Annie gave a soft sigh. “I would rather ride an hour in the dark if it means having a soft bed and a good meal.”

Niall would too. Lying on cold, hard ground bundled in all their clothing with no fire and only meager food offerings was not conducive to persuading Annie to see reason, but it would be safer. “Riding after dark is dangerous.”

“’Tis a moon out for the horses to see the way, and the road is dry, nae rutted,” Annie replied. “And we didnae hear of a single brigand in the area when we rode north.”

That was true. If they could make the inn… “We’ll wait and see how close we are when the sun sets.”

Annie nodded and they rode on in companionable silence, stopping once to rest the horses and give them a drink at a burn.

Annie had even suggested they eat their meal while they rode in order to get to the inn.

Still, dusk settled, and by Niall’s estimation they were still a good ten miles from Crianlarich.

As much as he didn’t want to stop, he slowed his horse.

“’Tis another two hours to the inn. We had better find a spot to stop. ”

“Nae! There is nae even a crofter’s cottage about. I doona want to sleep outside,” Annie said and then reached over to put her hand on his arm. “Please, Niall. Let’s ride on.”

Hell. He didn’t think Annie had ever asked him for a favor before.

How could he refuse? Niall looked down the road.

The moonlight clearly lit a path, and Annie was right that there had been no reports about highwaymen in the area.

He smiled to himself as another thought came.

Maybe once they reached the inn, he could insist Annie have a hot bath before dinner and he could order a bottle of wine if the proprietor had one… Niall nodded. “Let us continue, then.”

Annie looked happy enough to kiss him, and he was tempted to sidle his horse closer and reach over to draw her to him and do just that, but Annie had kicked her horse to a canter and was already several yards ahead of him.

“Wait!” he called as she rounded a bend and temporarily disappeared from sight.

He muffled a curse as he nudged his own horse to a run.

When he caught up to her, she was definitely going to get a lecture on not only galloping at night, but also on putting distance between them.

Annie Ferguson had to be the most perverse, stubborn female he had ever met…

As he rounded the bend, large black forms suddenly emerged from both sides of the road, closing him in. Before he could draw his sword, something hard and solid struck him from behind and the last thing he remembered was falling from the saddle.