Page 4 of Highlander’s Wild Lass (Wild McLeans #1)

4

C elestia was stunned. She tried to find words, but her tongue was no use to her. She just threatened his life and he ask to wed her? She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “What did ye say?”

Anthony moved one arm to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek softly. “Will ye make me say it again, lass?”

She nodded as she fought the urge to lean into the warmth of his palm. “Say it again.”

“Will ye marry me?” he asked.

Celestia reached up with both of her hands, reaching to touch his face when she came to her senses. Anthony closed his eyes, seemingly expecting her to acquiesce. She quickly brought her hands down over the bend of his elbows, releasing his hands from her. She shoved him away, clearing enough space for her to get to her horse.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and tugging her closer.

She stumbled into him, flailing her arms to catch herself, and felt her elbow connect with some hard, bony part of Anthony.

“Jesus, Celestia!” he growled, holding a hand to his face.

The pain on his face sent her into a maddening, nearly hysterical rage. “Marry ye?” she half-shouted, half-laughed, ignoring that she accidentally hit him in the face.

“Quiet down, ye’ll wake the whole village,” Anthony told her, still pressing his hand gingerly against his cheek.

“Do ye ken how ridiculous a marriage between you and me sounds?”

“I ken it does—”

She grabbed up her knife, made easy work of the knot after Anthony meddled with it, and mounted her horse. “I just held a knife to yer throat and ye’re askin’ me to wed. And ye call me mad.”

Anthony pulled himself into his saddle. “If ye just let me say why weddin’ ye makes sense.”

“I’ll listen to ye when ye’re not out of yer mind.” She pulled on the reins and Grannus trotted away.

“Will ye wait!”

Anthony came alongside her, sitting almost a head taller on his horse “We must talk about this.”

Celestia shot him a dark look. “What’s there to say? Ye asked me to marry ye, I said nay.”

“To be fair, lass. Ye elbowed me, which is nae an answer,” he said. She saw the bruise forming just under his eye, and she wanted nothing more than to do it again.

“We’ll discuss this when King James is on the throne again.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued without pause, “But seein’ how the last rebellion ended, our marriage doesnae seem likely.”

“It doesnae matter who is on the throne, ye’ still need carin’ for and yer brothers need someone to raise them up as proper men. Yer sister will have a chance at marryin’ someone with a name and money.”

“P-proper men? Someone with money?” She felt fire in her cheeks. “My family and I are nae here to be a good deed ye tell God when ye die.”

“Nay, lass…that’s nae what I’m meanin’—this is nae comin’ out right,” he said, running a frustrated hand through his short mop of black, curly hair.

“Yer right, it isnae,” she told him. “I’m sure ye’ll come to yer senses soon enough.” And with that, she rode home, leaving Anthony behind.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky by the time Anthony returned to the castle grounds, bustling with life. People greeted him as he rode past the gates through to the stables. Once his horse was in the hands of the groom, he trudged inside to the great hall, where Mrs. Duncan was sure to have breakfast laid out.

The cavernous stone room boasted high ceilings supported by thick wooden beams. Windows took over the entire short side of the room, overlooking the sparkling loch.

The high table, the table which his family used to sit at during events and gatherings, was situated in front of these windows overlooking the room. The only occupant now was Sebastian, awaiting him with a steaming mug of tea.

“If ye waited for me, I would’ve ridden with ye,” Sebastian said as Anthony took a seat beside him. He looked a bit pale.

“I knocked on yer door, but ye didn’t answer. I wasnae about to wait around,” he told him as one of the kitchen maids rushed to the table with a plate of food.

“Thank ye, lassie,” Anthony said with a smile. “Will ye ask Mrs. Duncan to brew me some blaeberry tea?”

“Of course,” the kitchen maid said, her voice still laced with the lilt of childhood. She scurried away towards the kitchens.

Anthony looked from his overflowing plate of roast beef, roasted carrots, and bannocks to Sebastian’s empty one. “Did ye eat already?”

“I tried, but my stomach hasnae been well all mornin’,” Sebastian said, bringing the steaming cup to his lips and taking a sip. “That’s why I daenae think I heard ye when ye were knockin’, I was busy takin’ care of other business.”

Anthony made a noise of acknowledgment as he dipped his bannock into the beef juice.

“Is that a bruise on yer face?”

Anthony hoped that Celestia’s elbow wouldn’t have left a mark, but there was no use denying it. “Aye.”

Mrs. Duncan rushed to the table, placing a steaming mug in front of him. “Here’s yer tea, Anthony. Let it steep a bit longer. I had a feelin’ ye’d be wantin’ it this mornin’.”

“Thank ye—”

“What is this?” she said, grabbing his chin and turning his head to look closely at his bruised cheek. “What woman did this to ye?”

“Why do ye assume it was a woman?” Anthony asked, eyes wide. He could hear Sebastian laugh beside him.

“Because I’d be mendin’ yer broken nose if it was a man,” she said, releasing him. “I hope ye havenae been disrespectful to the lass, whoever she is.”

“Nay, at least I didnae think so.” Anthony rubbed where Mrs. Duncan’s strong, stout fingers gripped him.

She eyed him carefully. “I hope nae, Anthony Moore. Yer maither, God rest her, taught ye better than that.”

With that, Castle Ferguson’s housekeeper walked away, but not before reprimanding two young boys who were making a mess of their breakfast.

“Well, well, well…are ye goin’ to tell me that story?” Sebastian asked, settling into his chair, mug tucked carefully close to his chest.

Anthony sighed heavily. “I ran into Celestia McLean by the loch, and well…it was goin’ well at first.”

Sebastian sniggered. “At first? Please, go on.”

Anthony told him and Sebastian struggled between laughing and stopping himself from laughing whenever Anthony threw him an exasperated look.

“She threatened to cut yer throat, and then ye asked her to marry ye?” Sebastian asked with a wide grin.

Anthony nodded, flexing his fingers into a fist. Maybe Sebastian would like a bruise to match. “It’s a wee bit embarassin’, ye laughin’ at me like that.”

“I’m sorry, I daenae mean to,” Sebastian said, mashing his smile into a grimace. “Did she agree after all that?”

It was Anthony’s turn to laugh. “Nay, she dinnae, but I’m determined to get her to see that it makes sense.”

“How?”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

* * *

When Celestia returned home, Auralia had made breakfast for their brothers and father. She had even convinced Chester and Hugo to rouse the animals and feed them.

“I can run the house as well as ye,” she said.

Celestia finished off the bowl of porridge. “How did ye get them to actually do their chores?”

Auralia chuckled. “I told them I’ll be bakin’ bannocks for supper.”

“How are ye managin’ that?”

“The family we sold our cow to delivered milk this mornin’,” Auralia told her, revealing a small pail of milk.

“I cannae wait,” Celestia said, handing her bowl to Auralia. “Is Da up?”

“He should be. Grab his bowl for me?” she asked, returning to the washstand.

Celestia pushed her chair in and headed for her father’s bedroom. Seeing the pail of milk and the smile on Auralia’s face gave her courage and confidence that they would manage through no matter the circumstances. She would not be needing to marry Chief Moore.

“Mornin’.”

Her father nestled in bed with another book. “Good mornin’,” Brannan McLean said with a smile.

“Do ye feel well?”

“A bit stiff from sittin’ in this damned bed.”

She crossed her arms hesitantly.

“What is it, dear?” he asked, his brow wrinkled.

“Well, I’ve been thinkin’…” she said, sitting on his bed. “Would ye be willin’ to teach me how to run the business?

Brannan sat a bit straighter, color coming to his cheeks at the minor exertion. “Did I hear ye right, Cellie? Ye want to learn the business?”

“Aye, Da. I do.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard these last three months,” he told her, reaching out for her hand. “Ye’ve never been interested before, what’s made ye want to take this on now?”

“I have been thinkin’ on it for a while but had a bit of a push recently.”

“Oh, the Chief?” Brannan wondered, eyeing her with a raised brow.

“Aye.” Celestia smiled thinly.

“That’s great news,” he said, patting the back of her hand. “Those meant to be in our lives always want the best for us. Yer maither always brought the best out in me.”

Celestia allowed him to muse, not ready to tell him what had happened at the loch. She still couldn’t believe it herself.

She took hold of his hand, cool to the touch but alive. “I can do it, and then I’ll teach Chester and Hugo—” She suddenly felt very excited at the prospect. Her head was light, and her mind was racing with the possibilities. “—o-or we can all learn together.”

“Aye, lass. That sounds good to me.” Brannan McLean was unable to keep the smile from his face.

* * *

Celestia purchased some meat for the first time in weeks with their success at the market, and there was a fat piece of beef roasting over a spit in the fireplace.

The boys burst through the back door smelling of horse manure but looking overly satisfied with themselves.

Celestia stood up and did her best to tower over the boys. “Why are ye obsessed with cleanin’ the stables? I have to beg to get ye to make yer beds.”

Chester cleared his throat. “When Chief Moore was here, ye ken…the day Mr. Koll showed up…”

“He said he’d take us huntin’ if we helped him with the stables,” Hugo told her, picking hay out of his hair.

“Aye, well…” She changed the stern, matronly look and smiled at them. “Be that as it may, I need ye’s to go wash up for dinner.”

She turned to Auralia who was extracting peas from their pods and dropping them in a pot to boil. “I’m goin’ to check on Da.”

The door was wide open as Brannan had requested; he wanted his room to be filled with the rich smell of the roasting beef. Today he was sitting in his armchair next to the fire, looking over his logbooks.

“Did ye want to take dinner in here tonight or at the table with us?”

Brannan thought for a moment. “With ye’s tonight, I think,” he said. “Have ye heard from the young chief?”

Celestia froze. “Nay…nae since—”

“Have ye made up yer mind?” he asked, placing the book on the side table.

“Nay, there’s nay mind to be makin’,” she answered. “I think he’s mad for askin’.”

“I reckon it would be a fine match, ye and him,” Brannan told her, grabbing his cane. Celestia grabbed his forearms and pulled him to a stand.

“If ye think we’re a good match, then ye must be blind as well as deaf, Da,” she said, staying near him in case he lost his balance.

Brannan had prodded seemingly every other day since she told him about Anthony’s proposal. He seemed thrilled with the idea of his eldest daughter marrying the chief.

“Think about it, Cellie, ye’ve ken each other since ye were bairns. Ye get on well.”

“Get on well?” Celestia laughed. “All we do is—”

“Fight like ye’ve been together for years,” Brannan said. “Listen, I’ll be gone soon—”

“Please, daenae say that.”

“I ken ye to be realistic, Cellie. My days are numbered whether we like it or nae. I willnae have my family ruined by my debts. Let that man help ye.”

“I’ll be takin’ over the business soon.”

“Don’t be daft,” he said. “While most men are nae as terrible as Mr. Koll, they have a hard time respectin’ women in business, especially the makin’ and sellin’ whisky kind. If ye have the chief’s name behind ye, they’ll be forced to respect ye.”

“Da…”

“Nay, I willnae be able to rest peacefully if I see this family ruined. What if ye must get into whorin’ to keep food on the table after I’m gone? Yer maither would beat me into a second death when I finally got to see her again.”

“I’d never do somethin’ like that,” she told him seriously, but feeling less confidence than she had in days. “Nor would I let Auralia do that. We’ll be fine.”

* * *

She corralled the chickens in their small coop at the end of the day and shut away Clyde and the pigs in their pens. Next were the horses, and when she entered the stables, she saw Anthony feeding the horses.

“Yer not insane, then?” she said, startling him.

“Nay, lass,” he said, as he sat on a bale of hay near Castor and Pollux’s stall. “I still think it’s a good idea for us to get married.”

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the stable, clasping her hands in front of her, then behind her, until she finally settled on crossing her arms across her chest.

She exhaled loudly and took a few steps toward him.

“I cannae understand why ye want to marry me. We don’t get along. We’re constantly fightin’. Ye’ve always said ye hated that I was so opinionated.”

“I admit that yer an outspoken woman, Celestia, but there’s somethin’ about ye that I admire. Ye’ve got a good head on yer shoulders to be a strong wife for a chief. We would work well together.” He sounded earnest enough, but still. . .

Her father’s words from just moments ago came to mind. If I have the chief’s name and reputation behind me… I’ll be well respected.

* * *

“So,” she said, finding her confidence and stepping toward Anthony. “It’s nae love that we’re to base this marriage on?”

“Nay, well…”

“This is nae much more than a business transaction to ye, then?”

“Aye,” he said, matter-of-factly. He prided himself on being a good chief, taking rents, and protecting his people, and this seemed to be nothing more than that. “This marriage could work in both of our favors. Yer family will be well takin’ care of.”

“And what do ye get out of this?”

He shrugged and stood from the bale of hay. “A wife, so that my sister will finally quit harpin’ about settlin’ down.”

He did not want to say that he needed to continue the Moore line and produce an heir. And he did not dare mention the pang of need that squeezed his heart every time he saw her.

She looked solemn for a moment and then set her mouth in a firm line. “As kind and practical as yer offer is, I cannae accept,” she told him. “I dinnae need ye to protect us, and I daenae want ye to protect us.”

Her words punched him in the gut, he hadn’t expected rejection when he laid out the reasons for a smart marriage nor did he expect him to have such a reaction to her words. She was an intelligent woman. Why was she fighting so hard against this? It made perfect sense to him.

He kept his face expressionless. “Alrigh—”

“And,” she began, “when I do eventually marry, I want it to be for love nae because it’s the practical solution to our problems.”

Anthony took a slow step forward. “It’s love ye be wantin’, is it?”

“Aye,” she said, nodding her head in mock-seriousness. “I’m sure ye have heard of the word before with all those fancy tutors ye had as a lad.”

“Oh, aye, Celestia. I have,” he said, his voice low and gravelly in his throat.

He was close to her now and slowly moving her toward the wall. A small gasp escaped her lips when her back knocked against the wood. He lowered his face ever closer, his mouth near her ear. “I dinnae say that there wouldnae be passion, lass.”

He pulled back slightly, enough to see the blush erupt on Celestia’s cheeks. She looked at him, wide-eyed, unmoving. Her lips were lush, tinged red from the cool evening. Celestia pouted, inviting him closer to her. He leaned in again, inhaling the beguiling scent of lavender.

Anthony meant to stop right there, leave her bothered and wanting more. But something was pulling him closer to her and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He kissed her.

To his surprise, she didn’t pull away or berate him, or beat him senseless. Celestia, frozen at first, leaned into him and grabbed at his elbow tugging him ever-so-slightly closer.

He could hear the blood roaring in his ears and his heart thumping in his chest. Anthony raised his hand, placing it gently around the nape of her neck, pressing her to him.

The small movement broke the spell they had found themselves in and she pushed him gently away. He turned with her, watching her bring her fingers to her lips.

She steadied her gaze on him and dropped her hand. She pursed her lips, overcoming her sudden shyness. “Ye… can be on yer way… I need to finish for the night.”

Anthony left her wordlessly and returned to Castle Ferguson. He paced in his rooms, a blazing fire raging in the large stone fireplace with Sebastian lounging in an overstuffed armchair.

Sebastian’s leg draped lazily over the arm of the chair with a glass of wine in his hand. “Ye need to take a breath, man. What did ye expect, a week would pass and Celestia would suddenly agree to wed ye?”

“Aye…I thought she’d see that it’s a good idea, and it seemed…that she was considerin’ it,” Anthony said, unpinning his brooch and throwing his plaid on his desk chair. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and headed to the bottles of whisky and wine collected in a neat group on his bookshelf.

He poured himself a glass and fell into his desk chair. “She is the most maddenin’ woman. She doesnae want help from anyone.”

“Do ye blame her?”

“What do ye mean?” he asked gruffly.

“She’s been the woman of the house since her mother died, and ye’re comin’ in disruptin’ her life, askin’ her to marry ye damn well out of the blue. Imagine how it feels.”

Anthony grumbled, leaning back in his chair, and looking up at the gray stone ceiling. “I ken…I ken…What should I do then?”

“Ye can forget about her and go for someone who is actually interested in ye,” Sebastian suggested. “Ye can have the pick of the litter. I heard Chief MacPherson is lookin’ to marry off his daughter.”

“I’m serious, Bas,” he said, frowning. “I’m nae interested in weddin’ children. I told McDunn that and I’ll tell MacPherson they very same.”

“She’d come with a sizable dowry,” Sebastian said reasonably.

“I dinnae care about the size the dowry,” Anthony told him.

“Obviously, or ye wouldnae be after Celestia.”

Sebastian stood from the chair, taking one more long pull of his wine. He placed the glass loudly on Anthony’s desk. “Ye mentioned courtin’ the McLean lass, so do that.”

Anthony sat quietly, staring at the amber liquid in his glass.

“Ye’ve been at odds since ye were wee, and that’s really all ye ken about each other. Open up to her, ye are shite at it, but if ye want her, ye might just have to. Because we both ken ye dinnae do that the last time ye tried to court her.”

“Aye…” Anthony mumbled.

“I’m off to bed,” Sebastian said and left Anthony.

He fingered the gentle lip of the glass, unable to get the image of Celestia leaning into him when they kissed. He downed the rest of the whisky and made his way to his bed chambers.