Page 22 of Somewhere Along The Way (Mackinnon #3)
Ross thanked God the butler appeared and told them where everyone should stand, which blessedly took attention away from the way he had been babbling like an idiot a moment ago.
The Duke of Dunford would be first in the receiving line with Ross standing next to him.
After Ross came the Duke of Grenville, and next to him, his wife, the duchess, then their son Gavin, the Marquess of Larrimore, and then Lady Annabella, standing between her brother and her betrothed, the Earl of Huntly.
A receiving line, Ross decided, was a civilized term for torture.
Never had he greeted so many people, or seen so many angelic bosoms quivering beneath eyes that looked at him as if they were hoping he was the most impulsive romantic.
And never had he met so many starry-eyed, giggling young women tripping all over themselves.
Annabella, on the other hand, was the perfect picture of elegance and poise—in fact, she looked at him as if she could see right through him.
When she wasn’t sending him looks buried beneath a layer of frost.
Sometime later, once the receiving line had broken up and Ross had more time to think about it, he was amazed that the lovely Annabella had managed to stay in the front of his mind as much as she had. It was impossible for him to recall any of the names of the other young women he had met.
For a man who changed women as often as he changed shirts, this was a startling discovery. Never could he remember his thoughts being occupied with one woman for long, and never had he met a woman who made him lose his awareness of other women completely.
The orchestra finished a lively, wild tune that was much like the country dances of old, before they began tuning up for a slower waltz.
About that time, Percy looked around for Ross and found him standing at one side of the ballroom.
Leaning against the wall, Ross was swirling a goblet of brandy in his hand and gazing at Annabella.
Turning to the duke, Percy said, “By the cross of Saint George, Lachlan, that grandson of yours is asking for trouble.”
The Mackinnon looked at Percy, but he didn’t sound concerned. “What is the lad up to?”
“Trouble. That’s what he’s up to. He seems to be doing his bloody best to provoke Huntly.
Apparently he sees nothing amiss with that.
You saw the way the two of them squared off when you introduced them.
Huntly’s no fool and he has more eyes than the average man—if you consider those slimy-looking yellows lurking in the shadows.
It’s one thing for Ross to pursue a lass like a starving wolf following a trail of blood, but quite another to let everyone in the room know about it.
He isn’t making even the slightest overtures toward common sense or discretion.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was going out of his way to make his interest known. ”
“You think he’s after the lass?”
“He’s definitely interested in her,” Percy said drily, “and he bloody well doesn’t give a damn if everyone here knows it.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s so bloody obvious even a babe would notice it.”
“There’s nae a bairn in the room,” the Mackinnon said.
“There’s not much sense either. Why are you protecting him?”
“They would make a bonny couple.”
“Surely you know she’s no match for him,” Percy said. “She’s been a heavily protected lass and she’s too young and inexperienced to handle a man like him.”
“And you think it wiser to throw her to the wolves by giving her to Huntly?”
“She would never fall in love with a man like Huntly.”
“Aye,” the Mackinnon said, “and that would protect her.”
“It would as long as she remained obedient and submissive. Huntly has no use for a girl with spirit.”
“And you think the Stewart lass has none?”
“I didn’t say that. I don’t know her well enough to judge.”
“You dinna have to know a lass to recognize spirit. It’s something that forms a kinship with your own.” The Mackinnon regarded Annabella for a time. Then he said thoughtfully, “The lass has spirit. She just doesna ken it yet.”
Percy looked amazed. “God’s teeth! You’re far too canny for your own good. How can you know so much about the girl?”
“Human nature is the same everywhere. It’s only practice and custom that sets us apart. The lass can’t help being a lass any more than the blind man can help being blind. If she had been born a lad, she would have discovered her spirit long before now.”
“That doesn’t make her a match for Ross.”
“The lass is more match than even she knows,” the Mackinnon said.
“Aye, she’s deprived, but she’ll come into her own soon enough.
” His face turned soft and pensive. “She reminds me of my lass, of Catriona when we first met…docile as a lamb at first, but soon she was cuffing my ears and leading me on a merry dance.”
“Times were different then, and Catriona wasn’t betrothed to someone else.”
“It wouldna mattered if she were.”
Percy looked astounded. “You can’t mean you think he has a right to any woman in Scotland who happens to catch his eye!”
“I’ll wager no other lass will come close to snapping the lad’s attention.”
“I should have known that for all my blustering, nothing would change.” Percy paused, looking around the room for Annabella.
Once he found her, he studied her, his brows furrowed in thought.
In a pensive voice, he said at last, “She seems awfully straitlaced to me—the complete opposite of your outlaw grandson.”
“They’re both outlaws,” the Mackinnon said with a laugh. “She’s like dry kindling, ready to burst into flame with just a spark.”
Percy was looking very British and very doubtful at this point. “If it’s a spark she needs,” he said, “she won’t have any trouble. Ross is fairly glowing with smoldering passion right now.”
“Aye,” the Mackinnon said, giving his grandson a fond look.
“‘Tis a pity the lad wasna born a hundred years ago. He’s like the Highlanders of old—unconcerned with propriety. Back then he would have taken the lass if he took a fancy to her.” He smiled at Percy’s look of dismay and slapped him on the back.
“It looks to be an entertaining year. I only hope he keeps a sober head and keeps his wits about him. Grenville is an honorable man.” He looked at Annabella, then at his grandson.
“I canna say I blame the lad for taking a fancy to the lass, bonny as she is.”
“To hell with being bonny. She’s a betrothed woman, and Ross looks at her as if he were considering her for purchase. Even the girl is aware of it. She’s been sending him the most discouraging looks. Ross is a fool to keep this up after Huntly’s remark.”
“I imagine he can hold his own with Huntly, or the lass too, for that matter.”
“I still say it bodes ill. The kind of looks he’s giving her could start a civil war,” Percy said.
“Now that would liven things up a bit,” the Mackinnon said, turning away from his friend and making his way toward his grandson.
Caught in a moment of reflection, Ross didn’t hear his grandfather approach.
Unaware that the duke was standing beside him, Ross watched Annabella spin around the dance floor with Huntly—he refused to think of that man as her betrothed.
Annabella , he said softly to himself. Sweet, shy Annabella.
You are as lovely as your name, he thought.
When Huntly drew her closer and whispered something in her ear, Ross murmured, “You can do better than that. Much better.”
“You wouldna be thinking of yourself as that something better, would you?”
Ross chuckled and looked at the Mackinnon. “Aye, I was thinking just that,” he said, imitating the old man’s brogue. Then he gave him a direct look. “Will that cause some difficulty for you?”
The duke’s eyes twinkled. “It willna. But I dinna ken it will be the same for you.” His eyes moved around the dance floor, following Annabella. “You fancy the lass, then?”
“I fancy her,” Ross said, thinking fancy too weak a word for what he felt. He could never remember wanting to be alone with a woman as much as he wanted to be alone with Annabella. And the things he wanted did not stop there. Annabella. Even the sound of her name was as soft as a woman’s hand.
The Mackinnon sighed, his brow furrowed. “Percy willna see things your way. I’ll see what I can do.”
Ross turned toward his grandfather, his face frozen in surprise. “You aren’t going to order me to stay away, or advise me to leave her alone?”
“Would it do any good?”
“No,” Ross said, “it wouldn’t.”
“Then I willna,” the Mackinnon said. “But I ken Percy will.”
“Percy doesn’t have to know.”
“Percy doesna miss anything.”
“Talk to him then.”
“It willna do any more good than telling you to stay away from the lass.”
“Then wish me luck.”
“The devil’s bairns have the devil’s luck.”
Ross raised a quizzical brow. “Are you a devil, then?”
“Aye,” the Mackinnon said, “I was in my time.”
Ross laughed, returning his gaze to the dance floor, and the bright, eager eyes of several young ladies.
Noticing this, the Mackinnon said, “Are you so certain this lass is the one? Do you ken there are many lassies here tonight who seem to have an eye for you?”
Ross glanced quickly about the room, noticing the bright smiles, the flirting eyes directed at him by many young women.
They were in such contrast with the scowls Annabella had been sending him all evening that it was almost funny.
And then it struck him that that was why none of them interested him.
They were too poised, too practiced, and too obvious, while Annabella was the only woman who had ever cracked his head with a wooden ball, or ignored him completely.
Without taking his eyes off Annabella, he watched her whirl about the room in another man’s arms. She glanced at him once, a reproachful look. Ross laughed, and after a moment of reflection, he turned to his grandfather. “If she scowls at me again, she’s mine.”