Susana and the Scot (7 page)

Andrew gusted a sigh as he sipped. It was excellent whisky. It sent a warm burn trickling down his throat and filled his chest with a sense of well-being.

“Not that I doona enjoy having daughters. I do. But a man needs to have manly conversations.” He pounded his fist on his chest. In a manly manner.

“I understand, sir,” Andrew said, though probably only because it was the polite thing to do, agree with one's host. He couldn't help looking at the door. “Will, ahem, Susana be joining us?”

Hamish snorted into his glass; Andrew nearly kicked him.

When he turned back to his host, he was stunned by the sharpness of his stare, though Magnus hurried to mask it with a smile. “Nae. She sent word that she is too busy for dinner.”

Andrew's smile dimmed. He took another sip.

“Too busy for dinner?” Hamish asked. Andrew nearly kicked him again.

“Och, aye, that girl. I doona know what to do about her. She works her fingers to the bone from dawn till dusk. She took on Hannah's duties when she left for Dunnet. And with all that, the recent raids and attacks … her burden is even more onerous. It's one of the reasons I am so verra glad you are here. To take a little of the weight from her shoulders. It's not right for a woman to have such worries.”

“We're happy to help,” Andrew said. He had to add, “Although…”

Magnus pierced him with a querying glance.

“Although she doesna seem … delighted with the help.”

The old man issued a damp snort. “She's always been far too stubborn for her own good. If you ask me, her resistance lies in the fact that she doesna want to relinquish control. If you want to make progress with her, take my advice … let her win every argument.”

Andrew leaned forward. “She wants me to leave, sir. That is an argument I canna allow her to win.”

“Bah. She doesna want you to leave.”

Andrew lifted a brow. Magnus hadn't witnessed their recent exchange in the lea … or in the loft. Thank God.

“She just wants to be in control.”

“Of the defenses?”

“Of everything, perhaps.” Magnus chuckled and though it wasn't really very funny, Andrew chuckled as well. Magnus took another sip, discovered his tumbler was empty, and refilled it. Then he refilled Andrew's as well. “I find the trick to dealing with women is to let them think they're having their way, when they are really having
your
way.”

Hamish laughed. “Sounds simple enough.”

Ah, but it wasn't.

“Doona fash yerself, my boy. Susana will come around. She just needs time to think things through. She'll realize how much we need your help. You'll see.”

“I hope so.” Hamish helped himself to another drink. “I doona fancy sleeping in the kennels for long.”

Magnus blinked. “The kennels?”

“Aye,” Andrew said. “She's housed us in the kennels.”

His laugh was a sharp bark. “What the hell did you do to annoy her so quickly?”

Andrew ignored the prickling on his neck. “She said there's no other space.”

“Balderdash. The castle has empty rooms.”

“We have twenty-five men.”

“We've a full wing of empty rooms.” Magnus narrowed an eye. “So what did you do? To annoy her?”

Andrew and Hamish exchanged a look. Hamish bit back his grin, but his expression was telling. This time, Andrew did kick him. It was probably the whisky's fault.

When he glanced back at their host, he was studying him again with a sharp interest that Andrew found a trifle befuddling. Maybe it was the whiskey causing that stare. Or the befuddlement. Still, he didn't resist when his tumbler was refilled.

When Magnus finally spoke, it was with an odd query. “So … how long ago were you in Perth?” he asked.

Andrew blinked. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Oh, do stop calling me sir. I'm Magnus, my boy.” He clapped Andrew on the hand and squeezed with alarming strength. “How long ago were you in Perth?”

“I … ah.” He frowned at Hamish. “Six years ago?” Six years, two months, and seventeen days. That was how long it had been since he'd last seen Mairi. Not that he was keeping track.

Hamish nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“And what were ye doing there?”

Was it his imagination, or was Magnus a little too curious?

Andrew took another sip. “Studying. My brother … You do know Alexander?” At Magnus's nod he continued. “Alexander thought it best if I … left Dunnet for a while.”

Magnus nodded. “Ah, yes. Dermid.”

Andrew didn't wince at the name, but barely. How mortifying was it that Magnus knew exactly what he'd meant? But then, everyone in northern Scotland probably knew the name of Dermid Lochlannach. He'd been a legend. And a monster.

When Andrew's father had died, Dermid had become guardian of Dunnet … and the Lochlannach brothers. He'd made their lives hell from the moment he'd taken the reins.

Alexander had always done what he could to protect Andrew, often at great cost. After one truly horrific altercation, where Dermid had nearly killed Andrew, Alexander had braved his uncle's fury and secretly sent Andrew away.

Alexander had paid, and paid dearly for that act, but it had probably saved Andrew's life. And it was there, in Perth, that he'd met a woman, one who had stolen his heart. She'd made him forget the darkness and reach for the light.

For a brief, shining moment, he'd been happy.

And then the light had faded.

Oh, he still kept up pretenses. He laughed and joked and pretended to be untouched by grief, unaffected by the great hole within him. Alexander expected as much. Everyone expected it of him. He was the blessed one, the brother who'd had an easy life.

He owed it to them, to them all, to play along.

But it was nothing more than a mask. A role.

Somewhere deep inside, something was missing.

He'd felt a flicker of it when he'd kissed Susana. He desperately wanted to feel it again. He tried to ignore the fear that if he did get the opportunity to kiss her again, he might discover it had been his imagination. Or a fluke.

Regardless, if he got the opportunity again, he would kiss her—

“I never did like Dermid,” Magnus grumbled. “He drank too much.”

“Aye. He did.” Andrew set his glass on the table. He'd had far too much already.

“Fell off the battlements, did he?”

Andrew nodded. “Aye. That's what they say.” He'd been in Perth when his uncle had met his maker. He could not grieve for the man. With Dermid's death, his exile had ended. It had been a joy to return home. And with Mairi gone, there had been nothing in Perth to hold him.

“Och, well, Alexander is a fine laird.”

“Aye, sir. He is.”

Magnus squinted and speared him with a one-eyed stare. “And how is he as a husband?”

Andrew blinked. “I, ah, wouldna know.”

The old man snorted and leaned closer. “Ye know what I'm asking. Is my Hannah happy there?”

“I believe so, sir.” When last he'd seen her, she'd been gazing into Alexander's eyes, and he, gazing back, besotted, the both of them. Aye. He would wager she was happy. He pressed down the flare of envy the memory ignited. Alexander
deserved
any happiness he found. That Andrew might never find the same did not signify. “They seem to be a good fit together.”

“Ach. Aye. I thought as much.” Magnus tapped his cheek with a gnarly finger. “I have a sense for these things.”

“Do you?”

“It comes with my years, I suppose.” He stared out the window for a moment and then sighed heavily. “It is my dream to see all my daughters wed before I die.” This he said softly, but with a passion that could not be ignored.

“I'm certain you will, sir.”

“Will I?” Again he studied Andrew with a curious intensity, and then he blew out another sigh. “I'm not so sure. They are a stubborn lot.”

“Women often are.” This from Hamish, who had obviously had too much to drink as well. He tipped a little to the side in his chair.

“Not as stubborn as the Dounreay woman, I'll warrant,” Magnus said. “I have four of them now.” He glanced at Andrew and stroked his lip.

“Four?” Andrew blinked. “I thought you had three daughters.” He'd met Hannah and her younger sister, Lana, when they'd come to Dunnet for Alexander's wedding … and Susana here.

“They're all verra lovely,” Hamish offered, his eyes aglint.

“Aye. They are lovely,” Magnus said. “But stubborn. And aye. I have three daughters. The fourth is my granddaughter, Isobel.” The way he said her name made clear his adoration and pride. “She's probably the most stubborn of them all.”

“More stubborn than Susana?” He wasn't sure what made him ask, some imp deep within his soul.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “My boy, you have no idea.”

“Does she take after her mother, or was her father stubborn as well?” Andrew wasn't sure what drove him to ask the question. Surely not the desire to discover more about the man who had conquered Susana Dounreay.

Magnus's brow rumpled. “Gilley?”

“Gilley?”

“Gilley MacBean. Her husband, God rest him. I couldna say he was stubborn. Nae. Not an obstreperous bone in his body. He was a … pleasant man.”

Andrew bit his lip to hold back his retort. Susana with a
pleasant
man? He couldn't visualize it.

“Pleasant and quiet. A simple man. He wasn't the kind of man I would have chosen for her. He wasn't the kind of man I would ever expect her to fall in love with, but they were verra happy. And he loved Isobel greatly. It was a damn shame he died the way he did.”

Andrew stilled. “How … how did he die?”

“Drowned in the loch, a year or so back.” Magnus shook his head. “He'd gone out fishing … one of his favorite things to do. Apparently his boat overturned and, well, there you have it.”

“That is a shame.”

“Susana was beside herself. She loved him verra much.”

Andrew tried to silence the howl in his soul. “I'm sure she did.”

Magnus took another sip and then stared into the crackling fire for a long while. “A damn shame, it was,” he repeated. “A damn shame.”

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, change the subject, perhaps even bring up the castle defenses, when Magnus continued on, nearly mumbling to himself. “Thing was, Gilley couldn't do much, but he could swim.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He could swim. Better than any man I knew. Odd that he should drown. In a loch he knew like the back of his hand.”

“Accidents do happen,” Hamish offered.

Magnus sighed. “Aye. They do.” He scrubbed his face with a palm and of a sudden, his fatigue—and his illness—were apparent.

Andrew exchanged a look with Hamish. If their host was ailing, it was only good manners to make their excuses and leave. No doubt they could find a meal in the kitchens—Hamish had already found a very pretty cook he reported was … amenable. But before he could say a word, Magnus's eyes lit up. “So tell me, Andrew. Do you hunt?”

“Hunt?” What man didn't hunt? “I love to hunt.”

“Och. Excellent.” The old man rubbed his hands together. His fatigue, miraculously, melted away.

The rest of the evening consisted of one tale after the other, all revolving around Magnus's hunting prowess.

Neither Hamish nor Andrew was able to get a word in edgewise.

*   *   *

After she left Keir's office, Susana filled her day making the rounds of the crofts, overseeing the schedule for the fall planting season and meeting with the tacksmen. It wasn't difficult to avoid Andrew. Thoughts of him, however, were harder to excise.

No matter what she did, his specter haunted her.

He was a magnificent man … in every way. The thought only annoyed her more. And that kiss? Every time the memory rose in her mind, she was flooded with a prickling heat, a hunger, a craving … for more.

Which was ridiculous. She didn't want more. She didn't want him to kiss her again. She wanted him to do one thing and one thing only.

Leave.
Hop back on his horse and hie off to Dunnet. And leave her in peace.

She had to admit—as she reviewed the salt production reports, and met with her factor about the repairs that needed to be made in the mill, and conferred with the leader of the fishermen's guild—it would have been wonderful to turn over the defenses of Dounreay to someone else. It was yet another duty she had to juggle in her busy day. Aye, she would have loved to turn them over to someone else. Anyone else. Anyone other than
him
.

It irked her beyond belief that he didn't even remember her, when she'd never been able to forget him.

And today … ah, today, the memories, the regrets were even sharper.

They'd met for the first time on a beautiful spring day. She'd been visiting family who lived in a little village outside Perth. She'd been so young then. So foolish. So when she met a handsome boy while on a walk in the woods, she'd allowed him to talk to her, charm her. She'd even flirted.

The next day, when she'd gone for another walk—hopeful perhaps that she might see him again—he'd been there. This time he'd taken her hand and held it as they strolled through the woods.

The next day, he'd kissed her.

Everything had been so simple back then. Susana had been thrilled that a boy as handsome as this was interested in her. She'd been helpless before his dazzling grin, unable to resist his wiles. Indeed, she hadn't wanted to.

She'd fallen in love with that boy in a space of days. Fallen in love and given him everything.

It had nearly destroyed her.

Because one day, she went on her hopeful walk and she'd found him … but he hadn't been alone.