Susana and the Scot (37 page)

Isobel snorted. “That's pretty old.”

Lana snuffled a laugh. “Aye. Verra old.” The duke seemed very put out indeed. “But some men want to live that long. Longer even.”

Isobel's brow rumpled. “I canna imagine it.”

“Now, see here,” Magnus grumbled.

Isobel rolled her eyes. “But you're a
grandfather
.”

“A man must live past thirty to become a grandfather,” Lana explained. And somehow, Isobel accepted this at face value. “At any rate, throughout the years, all of the duke's firstborn sons have died before their thirtieth birthday.”

Isobel nodded. “That seems fair. They did betray their kin.”

Lana's eyes widened. “Ah. But did they? The first duke did, to be sure. And he was already old when this happened. It was his sons and his son's sons who paid the price.” She swallowed. “And the people who loved them.”

Susana didn't miss the look Lana sent Lachlan, nor his yearning glance in return. Suspicion began to bubble.

“How would you like to be punished for something Siobhan has done? Or your mama? Or grandpapa?”

“I havena done anything,” Papa grumbled when Isobel gored him with an accusing frown.

“How would you like to pay the price for a sin you had nothing to do with?”

“I
wouldna
like that at all.”

“Aye. I feel the same. Well, Lachlan is one of those descendants. He is doomed to die if he canna break the curse.”

“Can anything break the curse?” Isobel stared at Lana, her eyes wide.

“One thing only.”

“What is it?”

“He must reunite the MacAlpin Cross. We think the piece you found is a part of the relic.”

The duke shifted under Isobel's regard. There almost seemed to be a sympathetic flicker in her expression. Almost. “But it's
my
treasure.”

“It means quite a lot to me,” he said gently.

Isobel frowned. “Do you believe in curses?” she asked Lana, apparently convinced that, with her aunt's occasional glimpses into unseen worlds, she of all people would know.

Lana smiled sadly. “I'm not sure if curses are real. But I do know I doona want Lachlan to die.”

Ah. Suspicion confirmed. Lana was, indeed, besotted with the doomed duke. Susana's heart twisted.

Isobel studied the duke. “He is verra handsome.”

“Aye. He is.”

She pulled the trinket from her pocket and fondled it. “But it's a verra beautiful treasure.”

“Perhaps I could offer you a trade?” The duke's voice was a low thrum.

Isobel turned to him with interest glinting in her eyes. “A trade? What do you have?”

He tugged on his plaid. “What do you want?”

“A sword.”

Susana frowned. A pulse ticked in her left eye.

Caithness blinked. His jaw dropped. “A … sword?”

“I really want a sword.” Isobel fluttered her lashes. “But not a big one. Yet.”

The duke sent a questing glance to Susana. She nibbled at her lip and glanced, in turn, at Andrew. He nodded and she couldn't help but relent. Andrew had been teaching Isobel. He would know if she were ready for a real sword.

But dear lord in heaven above. Preserve them all from the mayhem Isobel could incite with a real sword …

At her assent, the duke smiled. “I am certain that can be arranged.”

“My mama willna like it,” Isobel whispered, as though no one else were in the room. As though no one else could hear if she whispered.

The duke winked. “Leave your mama to me.”

The whole exchange annoyed Susana mightily, so she huffed out a breath. “I doona know. It is quite a sacrifice. Isobel giving up a treasure that could possibly save your life … merely for a sword.”

Isobel shot her a frown.

Susana bit back a smile and added, “I think we should get something more out of this agreement.”

The duke narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

“A title?” This, she said teasingly, but the duke took her seriously.

He blinked. His lips worked. He looked around the room, but no one seemed willing to help him out. In fact, Papa even snorted a laugh. At length, he said, “Dukes don't convey titles. Only the Crown can convey titles and…”

“And?”

“With due respect, my lady, not even the Crown could convey a title upon…” He flushed. “Well, a woman.”

Irritating that, but true. “I wasn't thinking of myself. I was thinking of Andrew.”

“What?” Andrew squawked, straightening in his chair. “I doona want a bluidy title.”

“Hush,” she said. “I'm negotiating.”

Caithness flushed. “Madam. I do not have titles to hand out like candies.”

“Mmm.” Isobel licked her lips. “I like candy, too.”

Andrew put out a lip. “I doona want a bluidy title.”

Susana glared him silent. “Lands then.” It had begun as a jest, but now it didn't seem so funny. If Andrew was going to marry her—if he ever got around to wooing her, that was—he needed something to call his own.

The duke turned out his pockets. “No lands here, either.”

A cough to the duke's right caught his attention. It caught everyone's attention and all eyes turned to Dunnet who had been silent up until now, reading through the papers Isobel had pilfered. His eyes were wide with disbelief. As he read, he shook his head and his lip curled. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, turning the page.

“What is it?” the duke asked.

Dunnet frowned. “If these letters are any indication, Scrabster has been robbing the Crown blind for years. There is reference to bribing the tax man and two pages of gloating about how much he's stolen from the Regent.”

Caithness stilled. His fingers closed. “Prinny won't like that.”

“And I canna tell for sure, but it appears he's been plotting against you as well.”

“What?”

Dunnet handed a letter to the duke, and he scanned it. His jaw tightened. “That rotter.” He read on until he came to a part that made his muscles bunch. “Bloody hell. Look at this.” Dunnet came to read over his shoulder as Caithness pointed to a line. Both men became very somber indeed.

“What the hell is it?” Papa asked.

Dunnet scrubbed his face with a palm. “Scrabster wasna working alone.” He shared a glance with his brother. “It doesna say who … but I have my suspicions.”

Nae. He didn't need to give a name. They were all fairly certain, given the fact that their two neighbors had both been unrelenting in their quest for this land.

It had to be Stafford. The bastard.

Caithness sat back and blew out a heavy sigh. He offered Susana a tight smile. “It seems as though I may have a title to spare after all,” he said in a ragged tone.

Her stomach revolted at the thought. “Oh, no. Not
that
title.”

The duke narrowed his eyes. “You did ask for a title.”

“I wasn't serious. Besides, I doona want to be married to
Scrabster
. What an execrable name to give my sons.”

Dunnet gaped at her. “Married?”

Andrew straightened in his chair. “Did you say,
married
?”

“Yes, of course married.”

“Hurray,” Isobel crowed.

Susana ignored this, and the reaction rocketing around the room, and frowned at Andrew. “What do you think wooing is for?”

“But I dinna ask you to marry me.”

She stilled. Her stomach lurched. Mortification rippled through her. “Are you … are you saying you … doona want to marry me?”

Remorse flickered over his features and he leaped to his feet and crossed to her. And though everyone was watching, he knelt before her, took her hands, and kissed her. “I'm saying nothing of the sort. I verra much want to marry you,” he murmured. “But I would like to woo you first.”

Annoyance riffled. She was far too impatient for wooing. She wanted him now. “How long will this bluidy wooing take?”

“Not long.” He kissed her again and again until Isobel blew out a sigh that rounded the room.

In tandem, they turned to her and she shook her head, disgust written on her delicate features. “I told you to kidnap her,” she said. “It's much quicker.”

Susana held back a snort. No doubt it would be.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After tea was over, Caithness begged to be excused to rest up after his journey and, for some reason, Lana offered to show him to his rooms. He agreed with alacrity. Isobel hopped off Andrew's lap and went with them, much to the duke's consternation. She threaded her fingers through his and gazed up at him with glowing admiration, most likely because he'd offered to give her a sword.

Andrew and Hamish left as well, to debrief the men and see to their mounts, though Susana could tell Andrew was reluctant to leave her. With a kiss to her forehead, he murmured, “I'll be back soon.” His eyes glimmered as he added. “You and I need to have a conversation.”

Aye. They did, but she much appreciated this time with Hannah and Papa. And Dunnet, of course. They all remained in the parlor, chattering and catching up, and Susana found she really enjoyed Dunnet's company. Though he wasn't a man of many words, when he spoke it was with a clever observation and sharp wit. He had her holding her sides more than once, especially when he told the tale of when his hound Brùid met Lana's cat.

Tamhas interrupted their guffaws with a scratch at the door. “My laird,” he said to Papa. “You have a visitor.”

Papa blew out a laugh. “This is the day for it,” he said. “Who is it, my boy?”

Tamhas's throat worked. “The Marquess of Stafford.”

Dunnet stiffened. His features became rather fierce and his hand clenched into a fist. No doubt he was remembering the fact that Stafford had once had designs on his wife. Beyond that, all here suspected Stafford of much greater perfidy. “I'm going to get Lachlan,” he said. “Hannah, darling, come with me.”

Hannah glanced at Susana, clearly torn between the desire to avoid this interview with a man she found repulsive and her disinclination to leave Susana and Papa alone with a snake.

“Do go, darling,” Susana said, patting her hand. “We shall be fine.”

“All right,” she said. “But if he steps one toe out of line…” She eyed the small table where Hamish's knife still lay.

Susana's lips curled into a smile. “Aye,” she said. When Dunnet and Hannah left, Susana turned to Papa. “What the bluidy hell does
he
want?” she muttered.

“Only one way to find out, my girl.” He waved to Tamhas. “Show him in.”

Her nerves riffled as Stafford strode into the room. He was a tall man and, but for his piggy eyes, could be considered good looking. But his features were set in an arrogant expression and his lips curled in a constant sneer she couldn't like. Add to that the disdain with which he'd treated Papa over the years and the way his every word and deed seemed to underscore his belief that he was better than everyone else, and he became very unattractive indeed. His son, the one he'd wanted to marry to Hannah, was no better.

He had dressed in formal attire for such a casual, unannounced visit, turned out in the uniform of a British lord rather than in a Highland laird. Which was telling.

“Ah, Magnus!” he gusted, as though they were old friends; they were not. “So good to see you.”

Papa rose to his feet and affected a bow, but it was short and curt. “Stafford. Welcome. Tamhas. Whisky, please.”

“Ah. And your daughter.” His gaze flicked over Susana in a far-too-assessing manner and her blood went cold. The man was a reptile.

He took her hand and kissed it. She nearly retched.

“To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” she asked. Surely that wasn't contempt dripping from her words.

Stafford stilled over her hand; his features arranged themselves into something of a smirk. “Just a neighborly visit.”

“Dounreay is hardly in your neighborhood,” Papa observed.

Stafford frowned but didn't reply. He took the seat next to Papa and then accepted a whisky from the tray Tamhas proffered.

“Nae. But I heard of your recent troubles and I wanted to come by and see if I could be of assistance.” His tone was incredibly sincere. If she didn't know better, she might have believed him.

Papa smiled. It was not a genuine smile in the slightest. “I doona know what you mean. Everything is fine here.”

“Come now, Magnus. There have been countless attacks on your lands. Why, I even heard your granddaughter was stolen from her bed.” He
tsk
ed.

Susana's eyes narrowed. There was no way Stafford could know such things unless he'd been working with Scrabster. Unless the two of them had planned all this together.

She opened her mouth to vent her wrath, but Papa shot her a warning glance. “Aye. That was worrisome indeed.”

Stafford looked around the room. “I do hope she's all right?” His simper was galling.

“She's fine,” Susana snapped. No thanks to him.

His eyes widened. “Really? I'd heard she'd been kidnapped. I hadna heard she'd been returned.”

Papa's fingers played on the fabric of his chair. “You do seem to hear many things.”

“Of course.” Stafford put out his chest. “I make it a point to know what is happening within my aegis.”

Annoyance riffled. This was
not
his aegis.

His attention flicked to Susana. “I understand your sister has married Dunnet.”

“Aye,” she said through her teeth.

Stafford sighed and sipped his drink. “A pity that.”

He let this tidbit linger until Papa responded. It took a while for Papa to respond. “A pity?”

“Aye. I've heard tell Dunnet willna be a baron much longer.”

Papa's jaw bunched. “Have you?”