Susana and the Scot (9 page)

“She doesna want your help.”

Aye. That much was clear. “We are here to help, nonetheless.”

She made a dismissive sound, something like a sniff, and lifted a shoulder. “Mama says you willna be here long anyway.”

That caught his attention. Andrew sat up—being sure to clutch his covers to his chest as well. “She does?”

“Aye.” The girl turned her attention on his sword, which, along with his scabbard, lay on the wood planks beside his pallet. She traced the hilt.

Andrew frowned. “Doona touch that,” he barked.

She fixed a glare on him. It was rather fulminating for such a small face. “You're not the boss of me,” she said. “I can touch what I want.”

She proceeded to touch things around his person, at random. His blanket, the wall behind him, his nose. She continued to do so for far longer than was necessary to make the point. He allowed this, because he really didn't know what else to do. He wasn't used to children, never having had one himself, and her insolence befuddled him.

Glory sake, he was a man, a warrior, and she was a child. Yet still, she defied him.

Then again, one must consider the mother.

“What is your name?”

“Isobel Dounreay MacBean. What's yours?”

“Andrew Lochlannach.”

“From Dunnet?”

“Aye.”

“Ah.” Her eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“You're the cretin.”

“I most certainly am not. I'm a fearsome warrior.”

Why this caused her to spurt a laugh was a mystery. He was. Fearsome. When he wasn't trapped in his covers by a five-year-old terrorist.

“Go away.”

“I will go away when I like. Mama was right. You really are a beast.”

“I'm not a beast. I—”

“You are. I doona like you at all.” She riffled her fingers through his hair, measuring the lengths and studying it in the shafts of sunlight.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Your hair is stupid,” she said.

“What?”

“It's stupid. It's a dumb color.”

He snorted. “It's practically the same color as yours.” They were both blond. Hers was a little lighter and a lot finer, but there wasn't much difference. Besides, he liked his hair. And women loved it.

Isobel rolled her eyes. “I'm a
lass
,” she said, as though this made any difference. “Men should have red hair.”

“And?”

“That's all. Your hair is stupid.”

“You woke me up to tell me my hair was stupid?” And what was wrong with his hair?

“It's not my fault you woke up.”

Andrew sighed. “You really shouldna be here.”

She grinned. Dimples erupted on her cheek. “That's what Mama said.”

“Which is exactly why you're here.” He shifted farther away. “You really should listen to your mother.”

Isobel shrugged. “I
listen
.”

“But you do what you want.”

She tipped her head to the side and gazed at him as though she really didn't understand his point. Or didn't care to.

“Go. Away.”

She stood with a huff and glared at him again and then, with a toss of her head, sauntered away. Dear God. She even sauntered like her mother.

She made her way along the line of pallets with cheeky insouciance. As she passed, one by one, his men leaned up and stared after her in bemused disbelief. When she disappeared down the staircase, Andrew collapsed with a gusted sigh.

“Well, that went well,” Hamish said on a chuckle.

“Shut up.”

“She's a charming lass.”

“Charming isna the word for it.”

“Does she remind you of anyone?”

Anyone? Her mother. “She's Susana's daughter.”

“Ah, aye.” Hamish's grin was bothersome. “That's probably it then. How unsettling is it, meeting the daughter of the woman you plan to seduce?”

“I doona plan to seduce her.”

Hamish tipped his head. “It dinna look like that was the case when I came upon the two of you yesterday. Where was it? Ah, yes. Right here in this room.”

“Shut up.”

“Have the … two of you…”

Andrew glared at him. “What?”

Hamish swallowed his chuckle. “Have the two of you ever … met before?”

“No. Of course not. Why would you ask?”

“Just curious.” He pulled on his tunic and breeks and Andrew followed suit. But he couldn't help wondering over Hamish's pensive glances.

*   *   *

Breakfast was dismal—a platter of oatcakes and a pot of gruel delivered to their loft by a kitchen boy. It didn't take a genius to work out who had arranged that feast. Andrew should have been annoyed; he had no idea why her maneuvers amused him.

Clearly, this was yet another volley in his game with Susana.

If she thought she was going to drive them away by making them uncomfortable, she had a lot to learn about men. Warriors in particular. His troop of men had trained for much worse than this.

Oh, they were indignant, and cranky, and not pleased by the fact that they had to sleep on dusty pallets and hike out to a privy in the stables to relieve themselves, and bathe in the horse trough, but Andrew knew they had the fortitude to make do. Especially when he told them, in no uncertain terms, what was really going on.

The fact that a woman was trying to drive them away only made them more determined to prove themselves.

So after they all ate, and cleaned up as best they could—in the horse trough—he sent his men out, with smiles plastered on their faces and assignments to review and assess the varying elements of the castle defenses. It was to be a subtle reconnaissance, implemented through casual conversations and anecdotal queries. No doubt Susana had coached her men not to give anything away.

He and Hamish headed for the castle to beard the lioness in her den. As it were.

They found Magnus in the morning room, surrounded by a breakfast buffet that made Andrew's mouth water. There were eggs, bacon, slabs of meat, and all manner of delicious baked goods. He eyed it greedily.

When Magnus chuckled and invited him to partake, he didn't delay. Susana could show up at any moment and he wanted to fill his belly before that happened. No doubt she wouldn't balk at smacking a cake from his hand.

He and Hamish filled their plates and joined their host at the table.

“I must say,” Magnus said, as he and Hamish took their seats. “I enjoyed last night verra much.”

“I did as well,” Andrew said. Although he would have enjoyed it more with less whisky.

“What a wonderful evening … I have so missed having men around.” His host's sigh was wistful.

Hamish buttered a honeyed scone and bit into it with a moan. “Well, we shall be here for a while. Especially with food like this.”

Magnus chuckled. “Aye. Aye. And I canna tell you how thankful I am for that. But sooner or later, you will all return to Dunnet and then I will be the lone male in the castle once more.”

Hamish's eyes twinkled. “Susana is verra lovely.”

Andrew glared at him.

“Perhaps she will take a husband.”

“Och. I've long given up hope on that.” Magnus's chin drooped. “She's decided she doesna need a man, you see. She's rejected every suitor. The last one limped away with an arrow in his arse.”

Andrew swallowed. “In his arse?”

Magnus nodded solemnly. “She has excellent aim.” He shrugged. “Of course I'm assuming she was aiming for his arse. It could have been his apples. She usually hits what she shoots for. But she was verra angry. Shaking with it. That could have thrown off her aim.”

Andrew poked at a sausage. “Why was she angry?”

Magnus snorted. “I doona know. All she said was he was a buffoon.”
Ach
. Not promising in the least. “I suspect he tried to kiss her.”

Hamish's knowing smirk was an annoyance. “Does she shoot every man who tries to kiss her?”

Magnus nodded. “As far as I know.”

“I shall consider myself forewarned.” Hamish cleared his throat. “Shooting one's suitors does tend to, ahem, clear the field.”

“Aye. Hasna had a suitor since.” Magnus sighed. “I just want her to be happy. I canna believe she is truly happy as she is. A woman needs a husband. Do you no' think?”

Why he addressed this question to Andrew was a mystery. Still, he nodded.

“I doona know how I got such stubborn daughters. Probably on account of the fact that their mothers died when they were young. I raised them the best I could … but I fear I raised them as boys. They are all rather hoydenish.”

“Lana is not a hoyden.” Andrew wasn't sure why he felt the need to rush to her defense, other than the fact that, of the three sisters, Lana seemed the most biddable.

Magnus tossed back his head and cracked a laugh. “Clearly you dinna get to know her well. Lana may seem like a sweet, demure lass, but there's a wild seed in her. God help the man who thinks to tame her. And Hannah? Hannah was mulish, too. She probably never would have married if she hadn't had to.”

Hamish tried to hide his grin. “Well, maybe one day Susana will
have
to get married, too. And then you shall have male company all the time.”

“Hah!” Magnus waggled his brows. “I canna imagine the circumstance that would force Susana Dounreay to wed a man she doesna want. She's independent and single-minded and tenacious. She is far too fierce to submit to…” His eyes widened. His throat worked. He lurched back and fixed a pained smile on his face. “Susana! Darling. There you are.”

Andrew should have known she'd entered the room. He'd felt the warning sizzle of energy in his bowels. He turned slowly and glanced at her over his shoulder. As always, the mere glimpse of her stole his breath. In the morning light filtering through the east-facing windows, her hair was aflame around her shoulders. Her skin was smooth as silk and her curves, cupped in a formfitting gown, delectable.

She frowned at the three men at the table. The glower should have detracted from her beauty, but it did not. It caused her eyes to snap and a curtain of pink to rise on her cheeks. Andrew shifted in his chair as something uncomfortable rose within him.

He was certain it wasn't lust.

“What are you doing here?” she said. Although it was closer to a snarl. Or a growl. Something feral, most certainly.

Andrew forced a cheery grin. “Your father invited us for breakfast.”

Her glare whipped to Magnus, who shrugged. “There is plenty of food…”

“Plenty,” Hamish grunted around a cake.

“Enough for an army,” Andrew added with a wink.

Her bristling made clear the barb had hit home. Ach, she'd thought to starve them out? They would find food. If nothing else, Hamish was seducing one of the cooks.

Without a word, Susana marched to the buffet and surveyed the damage. He and Hamish had made quite an incursion. “All the cakes are gone,” she muttered.

Hamish stealthily covered his plate—of cake crumbs—with his serviette, and upon reflection Andrew did the same. “There's plenty of other food,” he suggested.

He should not have suggested. She whirled on him and scowled.

Magnus cleared his throat. “She can eat something else today,” he said.

Susana turned her ire on her father. “Are you suggesting she have
eggs
for breakfast?” Judging from her tone, in this instance eggs were tantamount to eels or possibly maggots.

“She canna have everything she wants every day. She needs to learn to eat what is available.”

“There
were
cakes available.” Susana eyed the camouflaged evidence. “
Someone
ate them all.”

“She can have something else. We have guests.”

Susana snorted. “
You
have guests.” This she muttered under her breath, but Andrew heard. But then, he was intended to.

Magnus surveyed her for a long while, his fingers a'twitch. “Susana … Has it ever occurred to you…?”

“What?”

Magnus adjusted his collar, which appeared to be a wee bit tight. “Has it ever occurred to you that she might be…?”

“Be
what
?” That Susana picked up a knife in one hand and a fork in the other and wielded them something like weapons bespoke her agitation.

“Might be … spoiled?”

Those beautiful lips parted. Those sparkling eyes snapped. The lovely pink blush turned a deep red. Something truly chilling roiled through the room. It was, without a doubt, Susana Dounreay's outrage. “
Spoiled?
”

“It happens, you know. When a child doesna have a firm hand.” Magnus fluttered his lashes. “When a child doesna have a father.” Why he glanced at Andrew was a mystery.

“She doesna need a father. She doesna need any man.” Susana stabbed her egg with a fork. The yolk bled.

“Every child needs a father. And you canna deny, she is … something of a hellion.”

“She isna a hellion.”

“Yesterday she used the apiary for target practice.”

“I'm sure the hives were tempting targets.”

“The bees were not amused.”

“Isobel is simply … adventurous.”

“Ah.
Isobel.
” Hamish nudged Andrew's foot under the table. “Isn't she the girl who woke you up this morning?”
Bastard.
He knew damn well it was. He was just trying to stir a pot that was already on boil.

Susana leaped from her chair. “She
what
?”

“Aye. She came to our … lodgings and woke Andrew up. What did she say she wanted to see?”

Andrew quirked a brow. “A buffoon.”

It was gratifying to see Susana pale. He decided to wedge the barb deeper. “She nearly got an education.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Most of my men sleep in the nude.”