Susana and the Scot (13 page)

Hamish's grin only widened. He picked up a quill and toyed with it in a truly annoying fashion. “She's rather attractive.” She was. “Are you sure you doona intend to seduce her?”

Heat rose on his neck.
Blast.
He didn't want to talk about this. Not in the least. And certainly not with Hamish. “Are we going to review the maps?”

“Of course. But I'm curious. About whether or not you intend to seduce her.”

“The woman cannot stand the sight of me.” The truth of it burned in his belly.

Hamish chuckled. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

True. It never had. He'd always been able to charm away any resistance. Then again, he'd never felt this sense of futility before. Or this sense of determination.

Would he attempt to kiss her again?

The moment he saw his chance.

“I think she likes you.”

He gaped at Hamish. “Where on earth did you get that notion?”

“Just a hunch.”

Aye, now the smirk was exceedingly irritating. “What did the two of you talk about?” Curiosity jabbed him like a lance.

“This and that. The weather. Games of chance. Her … daughter.” Hamish's expression was inscrutable.

“It sounds fascinating indeed.”

“Susana Dounreay is a fascinating woman—”

Hamish stilled as a muffled snort sounded from behind the desk. He shot a perplexed glance at Andrew and headed over to investigate the source of it. Peering over the back of the desk, he chuckled. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Hiding,” a high-pitched voice responded. Andrew flinched. He knew that voice. And bluidy hell, Isobel had heard their entire conversation. He quickly thought back, trying to remember what he'd said.

Hamish held out a hand and lifted her up. As she emerged, she fixed her blue gaze on Andrew. Her nose wrinkled.

“You're hiding?” Hamish brushed the dust from her skirts. “From whom?”

“Torquil.”

“I see. And who is Torquil?”

“The beekeeper. He's cross.” She tossed herself into Magnus's chair and swung her legs.

“And why is he cross?”

She shrugged.

“Any idea at all?” Hamish asked gently.

“I … might have used the hives for target practice again.” When Hamish gaped at her, she felt the need to add, “But only a little.”

“Ah.”

“The bees were verra angry,” she confided. “They chased Torquil into the loch. And then he chased me. So I hid here. No one ever comes here.” This, in an accusing tone.

“You are a menace, you know,” Hamish said fondly … because he had no clue what a menace she really was.

Isobel responded with a grin. It bothered Andrew, watching their casual exchange, seeing the admiration in her eyes for his friend. He didn't know why.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Plotting our strategies.”

“Huh,” Isobel said. “Where's Mama?”

Hamish shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Mama willna like that she's not helping.”

“Hush,” Hamish said.

The sudden fury on her tiny features was amusing. Mostly because it was leveled on Hamish. Why her expression reminded Andrew of his brother when he was vexed, he didn't know, but it did. “I was just trying to warn you,” she muttered. “And I doona like when people tell me to hush.”

Hamish affected a mocking bow. “A thousand pardons, my lady.”

Isobel wasn't mollified by his mocking apology. She glared at him. “I doona think I like you after all.”

Hamish blinked. “Did you? At one point?”

“I thought you would be a good husband for my mama.”

“Did you?” Hamish smirked at Andrew; it was a challenge not to smack him. “Why did you think I would be a good husband for your mama?”

“Because you both have red hair.” Ah. Logical. “But now I'm not so sure.”

Andrew couldn't help but add to the conversation. “In case it has escaped your attention, your mama doesna want a husband.”

Isobel put out a lip. “I know that. But she needs one. Sometimes we doona want things we need. Or at least that's what she tells me when it's time to eat my vegetables.”

Something in her expression spoke to him. “Do you want a father, Isobel?” he asked. He didn't know why. This was a rhetorical conversation at best. A ridiculous one at worst.

She toyed with the twill on her gown. Shrugged. “I'd like a brother or sister I suppose. And someone who could teach me things.”

“Your mama can teach you things.”

“She's a
girl
!” she huffed. “I want to learn the things boys know.”

“Magnus then—”

“Too old. And he creaks when he walks. And when I ask him some things, he just frowns at me and mutters under his breath about the good old days when women knew their place.”

“That would be exasperating, I suppose.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, you can ask me things, if you like.” He didn't know why he offered, but he was glad he did when she fixed her attention on him and smiled. It was a beautiful smile. Pure and sweet and filled with gratitude. In a sudden epiphany, it occurred to him that having Isobel on his side might help in his hopeless pursuit of her mother.

The thought was beneath him, but it was still there.

Her lashes fluttered. “Can I ask you
anything
?”

“Aye. Anything.”

“And you willna grumble and mutter and pat me on the head and tell me to run along and play?”

He was aware that Hamish was staring at him with something akin to horror, but he pressed forward nonetheless. “I wouldna dream of it.”

“Excellent.” She folded her fingers in her lap and tipped her head. “First off, what does
seduce
mean?”

His confidence deflated like a bagpipe that had been skewered by an arrow. A similar sound might have wheezed from him. “I … ah…” He glanced at Hamish, whose expression made it clear that Andrew had made this particular bed. Now he could lie in it.

His lips flapped. His mind spun. He could fob her off, but that would ruin this fragile camaraderie. Or he could lie to her, which would hardly be fair to her when she got older. Or he could tell her the truth in which case Susana would have his guts for garters.

He decided a combination would be wise.

“
Seduce
means to try to get someone to do something you want them to do.”

“I see…” She tapped her lip. “Such as?”

Fook.

“Ah … Kiss you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is this about kissing?”

Andrew swallowed heavily, nodded lightly.

“So, do you?” she chirruped.

“Do I what?”

“Do you intend to seduce my mama?”

He gaped at her. His lips might have flapped.

“Because you never answered when he asked.” She jabbed her thumb at Hamish, who had the gall to bat his lashes. “Do you want to kiss my mama?”

Andrew scrubbed his face with a palm. Why on earth had he offered to be honest with her?

“Well, do you?”

“If I tell you, will you run and play and leave us in peace?” At her vitriolic glower, he added, “I'm asking you, not telling you.”

Her frown melted away. “In that case, aye. If you answer my question, I will
run and play
.” Although she did spit the words.

“All right, then. Aye. I would verra much like to kiss your mama.”

Her smile was smug and her expression was far too contemplative for his liking, but she did leave them then.

Although it was hardly in peace.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

“My lady!”

Susana stilled at Keir's call. She waited for him to cross the bailey. He strode quickly and there was a furious expression on his face. “What is it?” she asked.

“My lady, did you give orders to remove the men from the eastern patrols?”

She gaped at him. “Why would I do that?” They'd agreed they needed to keep an eye on Scrabster's men.

Keir scrubbed his face. “I just saw Marcus in the stables. He told me he's been reassigned to patrol the castle. And the other men—but for one patrol—have been ordered to return as well.”

Susana gaped at Keir, barely able to swallow her fury. “Ordered by whom?” But she knew. She already knew.

“Lochlannach.”

“How dare he?” She clenched her fists. “How dare he go behind my back and give my men countermanding orders without my approval?”

“He is a cocky bastard,” Keir muttered.

Cocky! Keir didn't know the half of it.

“Where is he?”

“I believe he's in your father's study. Going over the maps.”

“The
maps
?” Susana narrowed her eyes with a ferocity that made Keir take a step back. “Who gave him access to the study?”

Keir swallowed. “Um, I believe your father did.”

Och!
That traitor.

And she wasn't referring to Andrew.

Susana stormed up the stairs and blew into the study. The heavy door thudded against the wall and the two men at the rough-hewn table looked up. They stared at her, but her attention was trained on one man and one man only.

He was far too handsome. Seemed far too well rested and certainly too well fed. Someone in the kitchen was going to pay for that.

“Lochlannach,” she clipped.

To her absolute irritation, he smiled. “Good day, Susana.”

“We need to talk.” This, she spat. She didn't intend to, but civility was beyond her.

“Certainly.” He waved a hand to Hamish, but it took Susana's glare to banish him. When he was gone, Susana kicked the door shut and rounded on her nemesis. She propped her hands on her hips and fixed him with a dark glower.

“You canna countermand my orders.”

“Countermand your orders?” Ach, how could he look so innocent? He wasn't, and they both knew it.

“You pulled the men off the eastern borders.”

“Ah. That.”

She bristled, because his tone made it clear he hadn't been sure which countermanded orders she was objecting to—which meant there were more.
More.

“I sent those men there for a verra good reason.”

“You are overextended to the east. Your western borders are virtually unguarded and the greater threat lies to the west.”

She nearly snarled at him. “Aye, but there's talk that our neighbor to the east is massing men.”

He sobered. His face took on a serious mien—the first she'd ever seen. “I dinna know that.”

“How could you know that? You dinna consult with me before pulling the men.”

“My scouts havena reported any activity at all to the east. Besides which, I've been trying to talk to you since I arrived. You are the one who has been avoiding me.”

Aye. And for good reason. But still, a flush of mortification rose on her cheeks. She ignored it. She was the one in the right here. Not he. “That does not signify—”

“It most certainly does. I wouldna countermand your orders, if you would work with me.”

“I doona
want
to work with you.”

He snorted. “Aye. That is clear. But know this, Susana…” She didn't like the sibilant tenor of those
s
's. They sent a ripple over her nape. Like a caress. “I'm here. And I'm dedicated to my mission. I'm determined to keep you and your people safe, whether you want me to or not.”

“I doona.”

“Again, I'm not surprised. But may I ask … why?” His voice was so soft, almost wounded, it gave her pause. She thrust that weakness away. This was battle. There was no room for tenderness. Certainly not for one's opponent.

“Why?”

“Why do you no' want us here? Why would you turn down assistance from a powerful laird? One, in fact, who's charged with the defense of this land? Why would you try to scuttle every strategy I put in place? Why would you resist what we're doing when it's for your benefit? For God's sake, Stafford, or someone, has Dounreay in their sights. Your outlying crofts are being attacked in a methodical manner. Someone is making incursions, driving your tenants away. We need to discover who that is, and what they hope to accomplish. And we need to bluidy work together.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, not to protect her heart, surely. “I have always been in charge here. I doona like you coming here and taking over.”

“I'm not taking over! When your sister married my brother, her lands became his. He is the laird. And he sent me here to oversee the defenses.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I have always been in charge. My men trust me. They follow me.”

“As do mine.”

“We canna have two separate forces following orders from separate leaders.”

“Agreed.” She didn't like the twinkle in his eye.

“If we are to be effective, our men must follow one leader.”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“There can be only one.”

“Only one.”

“Well,” she huffed. “There is only one way to settle this.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is that?”

“I propose a duel.”

Andrew blinked. “A … duel? With swords? At dawn? Aren't those illegal?”

“As though that would signify.” She smirked at him. “I'm proposing an archery competition. Winner becomes the commander of both forces. Winner has the final say in all matters.”

He crossed his arms and studied her. No doubt, judging from his smirk, he felt he had some skill with a bow. Then again, so did she. He nodded. “All right. An archery competition it is.”

“Three heats. Winner is best of three.”

“Agreed.” He thrust out his hand.

“Agreed.” She took it.

As his palm closed on hers, warmth scudded up her arm and wedged in her chest.