The Scot. Lyn Stone

nodded. “Already granted. Have you aught else, then?” he asked politely.

      She bit her lips together. “Never impose your will upon me. Freedom to come and go as I please, no questions asked.”

      “Come and go where? There’s not much traffic about the Highlands, lass. We’ll be coming down here or to Glasgow once or twice each year, I suppose. Not wise to strike out on your own.”

      “Hmm. I am beginning to see why my father thinks this will be beneficial. What are your requirements of me?” she asked.

      “No gambling. Loyalty to my people and yours. Faith-fulness,” he said seriously. “And that you be just in your decisions.”

      She waited a moment. When he did not add anything, she asked, “Is that all?”

      “That’s a fair bit when you think of it, lass.”

      “No more than I would have given without your listing. But I have one more thing I require, Lord Garrow.”

      “’Tis James,” he informed her, then held out a hand, gesturing for her to make her further demand.

      She did, fully expecting him to argue. “You must allow me to speak my mind in all matters to anyone, as I will, without censure, even if you do not agree.”

      His teasing smile took her off guard. “Censure? That means punishment, aye?”

      “Aye, lad, it does that,” she replied, returning his smile as she shamelessly mimicked his speech.

      He shook his head and laughed, a merry sound that made her join him. It felt wonderful to laugh. It felt even better to know she would not have to beg her father for anything, or worry about his criticism, or bow to any man’s wishes, ever again. This one, she could wrap around her finger and do as she pleased. She knew it. At last, she would be free of all the constrictions women had labored beneath for centuries and so, could encourage others.

      Her father returned at that moment, sweeping into the room as if prepared to calm the hell broken loose in his absence. He stopped short, obviously puzzled by their gaiety. “What—what have you decided?” he demanded.

      “Why, Father, was yer ear not to the door? Or has yer hearin’ gone bad? Jamie and me are betrothed, doncha ken?”

      The Scot laughed even harder as he slid one strong arm about her waist, drew her close and soundly planted a kiss on her temple. Susanna permitted it without protest. It wasn’t so bad.

      Even if greed for Drevers, desperation for employment, or simple lack of good sense were his motivation, Susanna reveled in the unusual feeling of being wanted. She boldly slipped her arm around him and hugged him back. She meant it for show at first, to taunt her father, but found it felt good to have an ally, even if the Scot was an unwitting one.

      Yes, she could manage him with no trouble at all. Within a year, she would have him convinced they should live in London where she could resume her crusade. Her father would have no right to cut it short the next time, and her husband would not gainsay her once she plied her wiles upon him. She did have wiles, she was fairly certain of it.

      Who would have thought her luck would reverse itself in such a strange and rapid fashion? There was solid proof her cause was righteous.

      Chapter Two

      James usually resisted change, but there was little to be said for the status quo in regard to his current situation.

      Taking a wife seemed, on the one hand, a reckless thing to do. He could barely support the souls in his care already. However, he doubted Eastonby would grant him the stewardship of Drevers unless he wed the lass.

      Working that close to home, without the necessity of leaving for half the year, would surely benefit both himself and the clan. The people of Drevers would certainly be better off for it. He could not afford to question his own preferences when this would affect so many lives beyond his own.

      To be honest, he had to admit the idea of the marriage did not exactly put him off. Something about Susanna Childers sparked a sense of anticipation and excitement James had thought dead and buried along with his boyhood. The lass would prove to be an adventure, that was for certain.

      He was suddenly aware of his life having been driven by little more than an almost desperate need to meet his responsibilities. What was a wife but one more of those? And yet…

      She’d be a handful to tame, this one, he thought with a grin. A glorious handful.

      Other than his mother, women had never given him problems. There had been quite a few, admittedly more in his youth than recently, due to the constraints of time and funds to spend on pleasure. Even the most temperamental females he had encountered had usually responded to even-handed reason or, barring that, ready affection.

      No cause to believe a wife would react any differently than the rest. He liked women and they seemed to realize that. He also knew better than to love them. He’d made sure they understood that, too.

      He had loved his mother, of course. Yet he had remarked what love had done to him and to his father. That man had suffered like the damned in his efforts to please a wife who gauged success by possessions and how many people she could impress by showing them off. Ten years after their deaths, James and the entire clan were still reaping the results of his mother’s love of wagering and her extravagant spending. And his, as well, he admitted.

      The last four years of their lives, James himself had made a remarkable dent in the family fortune, gaining his useless education and traveling to acquire the polish of a worldly young noble like the ones his mother admired. He had foolishly believed that improving himself in such a way might gain him her approval, if not her love. Maybe she would point to him with pride one day, he’d thought at the time.

      The guilt over that conceit and the cost of it ate at him constantly, even though he hadn’t known at the time how dire the state of the family finances. Well, this marriage and his new position could go a long way in making up for that bit of foolishness.

      “Are you an optimist?” Eastonby asked him as if reading his mind.

      James rolled his eyes at the thought. “Hardly.”

      “Neither am I. But I do think you and Susanna will suit one another or I would not have suggested this. She needs a firm hand, but not a cruel one, Garrow. Most important, I want her out of the way of those trouble-makers in London. That Bodichon woman has nearly ruined our good name, using Susanna to spout all that nonsense about freeing women from their bondage or some such. The papers actually printed my daughter’s name, can you feature that? One knows a proper female is never mentioned in print other than at her marriage and her death! Her mother would have been scandalized.”

      “Embarrassed you, did she?” James asked, feeling faintly angry at Eastonby and rather defensive of Susanna’s courage in taking a firm stand, be it right or wrong. She didn’t strike him as being one who was easily led. Susanna was a woman of conviction and he thought that spoke well of her.

      “Not so much embarrassed as perplexed. And I have to admit, frightened for her. There are those in power who greatly resent a woman speaking out so publicly. Susanna is passionate when she takes up a cause, but she’s also a bit naive.”

      In his opinion, James thought the lass should be commended. It was not every woman who would dare speak out against injustice no matter what consequences she might face. But he remained silent. Now was not the time to engage in any debates on the evils of society.

      The earl’s expression looked grim as he splashed another dollop of liquor into a fine crystal goblet. “More?”

      James nodded and held out his glass. They were drinking brandy to seal their bargain while the lady rifled through her wardrobe in the next room to find something appropriate for a hasty wedding.

      It was to take place that very afternoon, accomplished without banns or fanfare, by a Presbyterian minister who owed Eastonby a favor.