The Devil Wears Kilts by Suzanne Enoch Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn’t imagine, though, that many of them would dare challenge such a formidable-looking man. Not directly, anyway.
    “I think you know what’s polite and acceptable, whether you choose to behave in that manner or not—which is why you left the shop when you did.” She grimaced. “The Hunsacker girls know better as well, silly things. What I didn’t know was whether you would take your sister’s situation into account.”
    She half expected that to spark another argument, but when his gaze met hers again she saw a fair degree of amusement in them. The sight made her forget for a moment what they’d been discussing. Charlotte had seen paintings of some of the Scottish lakes, and his eyes were precisely the color she imagined one of the those deep, still lochs would be under a Scottish summer sun.
    After a moment he gestured down the street with his free hand, and they set off at a much more sedate pace. “I’ve a question for ye,” he asked conversationally.
    “I’m listening.”
    “Ye’re what, three-and-twenty?”
    “Twenty-five. I had my birthday this spring.” And she knew what was coming next. Why was she still unmarried? What foolish thing had she done to make herself unmarriageable? She’d heard them all by now, after all. The only real question was how she wished to answer. And how she felt having this large, volatile Scotsman asking her such an intimate thing.
    “Were ye in London, then, the year Donald Campbell came down and made all that ruckus?”
    “The…” Charlotte stifled a frown. It took her a moment to even recall what he was talking about, it was so far removed from the conversation she’d thought they were about to have. “That was actually the year before my debut,” she said slowly, remembering, “but we were in London for the Season. Mr. Campbell was pursuing some woman, as I recall. He wouldn’t leave her alone, and her brother shot him.”
    “So that’s the story.”
    By now they’d reached the end of Bond Street, and he turned them right along Picadilly and then south on Queen’s Walk, heading away from Mayfair. Green Park lay to their right, but once they passed that, she would have very little idea where they were. And of course he was likely lost already. But the conversation was quite interesting. “That’s not the true story, then?”
    “Nae. Campbell came down after Jenny Baxter. The Campbells and the MacMillans—that’s the Baxter clan—have had a feud going on fer a hundred years or more, now. Her brother Thomas caught wind of the courtship and shot Donald dead on ’is own front step. Then he hauled his sister back to Scotland and married her off to a cattle drover afore the end of the month. A year later someone shot Thomas Baxter in the head while he was out fishing. Rumor has it, it was Donald Campbell’s uncle.”
    “That’s terrible!” she exclaimed.
    “That’s the Highlands. The order of faith there is clan, country, and God.”
    Charlotte looked up at him again. “You’re the chief of your clan.”
    “Aye.”
    “How many people are in Clan MacLawry, then?”
    He shrugged. “All the MacLawrys, the Laurences, MacTiers, Lenoxes, Tyrells, and all the families under them. These days it’s more aboot land and coin, but when we measure it by true strength, near three thousand fighting men.”
    “That’s … that’s an army.”
    “Aye.” The smile on his sensuous mouth was grim and cynical. “Nae someaught the other clans can manage any longer, with the lairds clearing out their cotters to make room for grazing sheep. And nae someaught the Crown likes, with us sitting on their shoulder, as we do.”
    They stopped beneath an oak tree at the far end of Green Park, and the dogs flopped to the ground, tongues lolling. Just how far had they wandered from Mrs. Arven’s dress shop? “Why are you telling me this?”
    “Because I’ve given Rowena into yer household,” he returned quietly, his gaze studying hers. There was more to him than