How to Blackmail a Highlander (The MacGregor Lairds) Page 8

She must get the man’s hand off her long enough to scream. That would surely bring someone who could help.

  She dug her nails into his forearms and kicked against his shins. Thankfully, she wore the sturdy boots she’d purchased for the trip instead of the delicate slippers she typically wore indoors. Her boots connected with his shin hard enough to make him grunt. His grip loosened enough that she was able to drag in a lungful of air. She let it out with a screech that should have shattered every window in the place.

  The man’s eyes widened, and he let go. He spun around and came face to face with Philip, who wasted no time in planting his fist in the man’s gullet. “Ye dare lay hands on her?” he shouted, following up his swing with one to the chin, which knocked the man to his knees.

  “Here now! I didn’t know she were your wife. Honest!”

  “Wife?” Philip said, the word bringing him up short.

  “That’s a lie!” Alice said, rage boiling in her until the edges of her vision blurred. “I told you my husband was on his way up, and you assaulted me anyway, you vile, miserable miscreant!” She punctuated each insult with a kick that probably did more damage to the skirts her foot kept tangling in than it did to the man. But it made her feel better.

  “No man would let his wife prance around a roomful of drunken men unattended. How was I to know ye werena lying?”

  “I was not prancing, you filthy, miserable sot! And lying or not, you have no right to put your hands on me!” She tried to kick at him again, but Philip wrapped his arms around her from behind and lifted her, swinging her away from him.

  “Alice, go to the room and wait for me. I’ll take care of this,” he said, sneering at the man who remained on his knees.

  “I’ll do no such thing!” she said. She wasn’t about to hide away like some frightened little girl. “I want this man arrested. He should be in chains, acting like such an animal.”

  “Alice,” Philip hissed. “We are drawing a crowd.”

  She opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t care, when she remembered that she very much did care. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile and, thanks to her refusal to listen to Philip and a powerful set of lungs, they were now the center of attention of everyone in the inn.

  “My lord, I’m so sorry,” the innkeeper said, scurrying forward with a couple of large stable hands who promptly hefted the man to his feet. “Dinna mind Mr. Bowman. He doesna think too well when he’s in his cups. I hope he’s done no damage to yer…wife?”

  Alice took in the increasingly curious crowd around them. She stood in the doorway of the chamber she and Philip were obviously sharing. If he refuted that they were wed, her reputation would be irreparable. Though they could surely keep up with the pretense from the ship, that they were siblings…

  “Lady Alice? Good heavens, what is going on here?”

  Alice closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath through her nose before she turned to face Mr. Cravens, the proprietor of a confectionary shop she frequented with her mother. So much for the sibling story.

  “A simple misunderstanding, Mr. Cravens,” she said, coming forward to stand by Philip’s side. “I’m afraid this man,” she said, nodding at the back of Mr. Bowman, who was being dragged off by the stable hands, “became a little too forward and startled me. My…husband was, of course, merely defending me.”

  “Your husband? How splendid, I hadn’t heard you’d wed.”

  He gave a polite smile to Philip that didn’t quite reach his eyes. To his credit, he gave no indication of the shock he must be feeling to find the daughter of Lord Morley in the middle of such a commotion while her glowering, thoroughly Scottish, supposed husband stood watch over them.

  “Yes, we are married. Only just… Isn’t that right, husband?”

  She turned to him, her eyes pleading. If Philip denied her now…

  He gave the man a tight smile. “Aye, we’re wed. Only just.” His eyes glanced at the crowd around them, and he seemed to come to some sort of decision. He squared his shoulders and raised his voice, so everyone gathered about could hear him.

  “This is my wife,” he said, wrapping his arm around Alice’s waist and drawing her to him. “I want there to be no misunderstanding in case anyone else here had any misconceptions. As her husband, she is under my protection and I’ll defend her with my last breath. Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge me?”

  “No, no, of course not,” the innkeeper said, trying to shoo everyone away. “I’ll have some of my best whisky brought up straightaway, my lord. And I’ll make sure Mr. Bowman isna able to trouble anyone else again tonight.”

  Philip nodded at him and turned on his heel, keeping his hold on Alice until they were safe in their chamber. He closed the door on the rest of the curious faces in the hall and bolted it.

  Then he released a long, drawn-out sigh and tiredly rubbed a hand over his face.

  “All ye had to do was stay in the chamber another five minutes. And ye couldna even do that.”

  She had the grace to give him a sheepish smile. “I know it wasn’t the most prudent thing to do, but I was so thirsty, and I didn’t think it would do any harm to quickly order some wine.”

  “Aye, ye didna think. Ye never think. Ye follow whatever silly impulse comes into yer head. And now an inn full of people is aware of our presence and kens who ye are. And that ye’re now my wife.”

  Alice blinked at him, not sure she heard that last bit correctly. “You mean, they think I’m your wife. What harm is there in a few strangers being under the misconception that we are wed?”

  He loosed another long-suffering sigh. “We declared each other man and wife, with clear intent, in front of assembled witnesses. In Scotland, that is enough to be legally binding. For a time, at least.”

  Her stomach flipped, and all the blood rushed to her head and back out again with enough force to make her dizzy. She’d joked about wedding him. Dreamed about it a time or two. But surely, merely stating that they were wed in front of an audience wasn’t enough…

  Though judging by the tortured look on Philip’s face, it was.

  “Well then…” she said, releasing a long breath of her own. “How shall we spend our wedding night?”

  Chapter Nine

  Philip looked at her with such an expression of shock, bordering on horror, that Alice almost laughed.

  “I think I’d be offended by that look on your face if I didn’t realize it was due to surprise and not a total lack of desire. Because we both know that is not true.”

  He stared at her, but before he could say anything a knock sounded on the door. He turned to answer it and let in serving maids with pitchers of water, wine, a decanter of whisky, and a selection of crusty bread, cheese, meat, and fruit. Someone was trying to keep them happy.

  “My father wishes ye a long and happy marriage,” one of the girls said.

  Philip nearly spit out the whisky he’d sipped.

  “That’s very kind of him,” Alice said, walking the girls out. “Be sure to convey our thanks.”

  Once she had the door bolted, she turned around to watch her supposed husband. It still didn’t seem quite real. Or legal, despite his explanations. She supposed it was similar to handfasting.

  Now that it had happened, it didn’t seem so crazy. It would solve quite a few of her problems. Even if she were to be found, her parents would not be able to force her to marry the man of their choosing as she was already wed. In a way. She assumed they’d have to have it blessed by the church and sign some paperwork or something in the future to make it truly legal. But for the moment, she was safely Philip’s wife.

  As long as he didn’t get it into his thick skull that she’d suddenly start following his orders. She’d begun this whole adventure to remove herself from anyone’s control. Wed or not, she would continue to follow her own counsel when it pertained to her life. No accidental wedding was going to change that. Philip would simply have to reconcile himself to a wife with a mind of her own. She h
ad no doubt she could eventually bend him to her ways. Well, she had some doubts. He’d already proven vastly more stubborn than any other man she’d ever dealt with.

  And she supposed her circumstances would be much changed. She still found herself married to a man she barely knew but heading for a life a great deal more mysterious than the one she had left. She could admit to herself that that was part of the appeal. Marriage to the old earl would make her life nothing but an endless chain of soirées and balls. If she were lucky. His other wives had rarely been seen in public after the wedding breakfast. Her only function would have been to obey her husband in everything he said and to be an ornament for him to show off, to do with as he pleased.

  The same could probably be said of Philip. But at least he was a rugged, young, virile, and incredibly handsome man who set her blood afire with a mere look. And her body with the slightest touch. She might quite enjoy obeying his orders. At least some of them. Some of the time. The ones she liked, in any case.

  Besides, the two women she knew of who had run off with MacGregor men were both utterly content. Sorcha MacGregor had been married off to the Laird of Glenlyon, the one they called The Lion. From what Alice had heard, Sorcha had been quite against the match, yet from Elizabet’s letter, Sorcha had not only come to terms with her marriage but was blissfully happy, living with her warrior in one of the most beautiful places that Elizabet had ever seen.

  Elizabet herself had run off with Philip’s kinsman John. A highwayman who still had a price on his head. Elizabet had grown up in circumstances much the same as Alice’s. Yet she was not suffering for her choices. In fact, according to her letter, Elizabet seemed ecstatically happy.

  Neither one of these women had begun their relationships loving or even knowing their men. Yet everything had turned out wonderfully for them. Philip was, of course, a different man. However, if Alice had to choose between him and the old earl, she would much rather take her chances with Philip. At the very least, she would not cringe when he touched her. In fact, she looked forward to it.

  “It’s really not all that bad, if we are, indeed, married,” she said.

  Philip put down the cup of whisky he’d drained and looked at her, eyes wide with shock. “Ye canna mean that,” he said.

  “Yes, I do.” She crossed her arms and drew herself up straight, staring directly into his eyes. “If my choices are to marry you or be bundled off to the murderous old codger who thinks he has bought my hand, my life…then I choose you.”

  Philip’s jaw worked open and shut a few times as if he couldn’t quite decide how to respond to that. She stepped near enough to place her hand on his arm. He looked down at her with an expression she couldn’t identify, but which sent a fine shiver through her that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

  “I know this isn’t what you might wish. But I don’t see that we have any other choice. All those people out there…and Mr. Cravens. It will get back to my family, no matter what we do now.”

  Philip’s eyes opened even wider. “Aye. I ken that very well. But that doesna mean we have no choice in the matter.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “You’d let me be ruined when such a simple solution—”

  “Simple solution?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He sighed and shook his head again. “It’s no’ the way things are done.”

  It took a supreme effort to keep from rolling her eyes. “I know you like to follow the proper order of things, but sometimes circumstances demand unorthodox actions.”

  He snorted at that. “Every moment with you has been unorthodox.”

  She gave him half a grin. “Is that so bad?”

  “Aye. Ye have no idea.”

  “Philip…”

  He jammed his hand through his hair and stalked away from her for a second, frustration rolling off him in waves. When he paced back to her, she raised a brow, waiting for whatever was boiling beneath his surface to finally erupt.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, slow, and measured, as if he were speaking to a small child. Or a skittish horse.

  “Alice. Ye canna be thinking this through clearly.”

  Was he afraid she was going to kick him in the backside if he spooked her? She hadn’t planned on it, but if he kept talking to her in that tone of voice, she might.

  “Ye canna wish to wed me. We dinna even ken each other. I’m far below your station—”

  “That doesn’t matter—” she said, trying to wave that concern away.

  “And even if that were no’ true,” he continued, not letting her finish, “I dinna have any wish to be shackled with a wife.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes at him and leaned in closer. “And what is our other option? If you denounce me now, Mr. Cravens will run straight to my father. I’ll be ruined and so will you, because my father will hunt you down. If Mr. Ramsay isn’t already aware that we are here, then the last thing you should want is more attention brought to us.”

  His eyes narrowed, and she resisted the urge to step back. “I wouldna have any attention on me at all if it wasna for you.”

  “You don’t know that. You said yourself that Ramsay had probably been watching my residence. Which means he very well may have seen you coming and leaving. He might have followed me, but he could have followed you. Regardless, even if he were not aware of you or your whereabouts, being involved in a scandal involving Lord Morley’s daughter would make sure he would be shortly apprised. The only way to keep everyone quiet and protect both ourselves and our friends is to present ourselves as married.”

  “Ye’re mad.”

  She shrugged. “No. Just practical. Besides, what’s done is done. We both declared ourselves wed in front of witnesses and according to you, that’s all we need. We can deal with it later. You can divorce me, annul the marriage, or live separately from me.”

  He glowered darkly at her, and she decided to change tactics. She did want this marriage to be…amicable, after all.

  “Or,” she said, stepping a little closer, “maybe you’ll surprise yourself and enjoy the fact that we are married. There are certain advantages, or so I’ve been told,” she said, giving him her best smoldering look.

  Either she was losing her touch or Philip was completely immune because the only response she got from that was a raised eyebrow. The intense look that remained in his eyes was more likely due to anger than lust. Pity.

  She sighed, stepping away. “Fine. Suit yourself. My one desire is to escape the life I had no hand in choosing and find my friend who is the one person in this world I can trust to understand. I simply ask that you stay married to me for the time being. Do what you will with me once we arrive at Glenlyon. I do not care.”

  “Oh, ye’ll care, my lady,” Philip said, closing the distance she’d put between them, his eyes flashing with a sudden heat. “As my wife, ye’re mine. To do with as I please. Is that what ye wish?”

  Alice’s mouth went dry. Perhaps he wasn’t as immune to her as he wanted to appear. She swallowed hard. “If you are trying to scare me, it will not work.” She let her gaze roam over him, trying to show him exactly how willing she was to call his bluff. “I’ve already made it clear I am more than happy to be your wife. In every way.” Then she shrugged. “But willing or no, I don’t see that we have any other choice. Publicly, at least.”

  Philip stared down at her for long enough that she didn’t think he’d answer. Those stark blue eyes of his bored into hers, his entire body seething with confusion and anger…and a vitality that she had never experienced in any of the dandified men with whom she’d dallied at court. Oh yes, if she had to be wed to a man she did not love, the one before her would do very nicely.

  Finally, Philip drew in a great breath, gave her a last exasperated look, and then turned back to the table holding the whisky and refreshments. “I need a drink.”

  …

  Philip sto
od stock-still, staring out the window. His mind was too overwhelmed with the recent events to do more than watch the retreating back of Mr. Cravens. Philip had hoped to have more time to reach Glenlyon, but they’d have to make all haste now. He didn’t know how well Mr. Cravens knew Alice’s family. But it wouldn’t take much to have them on their tail.

  He took another long sip of whisky, savoring the way the amber liquid slid down his throat, while his mind whirled. One minute, he’d been boarding the boat, breathing a sigh of relief to be journeying back to Scottish soil. The next, he’d been saddled with a runaway wife who was leaning against the wall of his chamber looking as if she were daring him to kiss her again. And that was something he absolutely could not allow to happen. No matter how badly he wanted to comply.

  And oh, he wanted to. He hadn’t planned to kiss her that night at the ball. Or on the ship. But when that soft, full mouth had pressed against his, his body had taken over. She’d met every move of his lips, every thrust of his tongue, with a heated enthusiasm that bordered on desperation. And he’d been right there with her. Desperate. Hungry. Aching for more. It had taken every ounce of willpower to pull away from her.

  He’d known the little vixen had fire in her blood. He’d never met a woman so badly in need of a tumble in all his days. It just hadn’t occurred to him that one touch of her lips and he’d be hard pressed to keep from doing the tumbling himself. But if he ever wanted to be rid of her, he was going to have to keep his hands off.

  Which was going to be much easier said than done now that he’d publicly claimed her as his wife.

  Her gaze raked over him, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her. She gave him a slow, sensuous smile. “Now that I’m your wife, I suppose there is no need for you to spend the night on the floor.”

  His lips twitched. “More need now than there was before, I’d say.”

  Her full lips pushed into a pout. “I don’t see how that is true.” She stepped closer. “Will you at least kiss your wife, my lord?”

  He shook his head. “There willna be another kiss. The first was a mistake.”