Page 64 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
He quirked his mouth as he considered her question. “Ye must first get the laird te like ye. Tell Neil te take ye directly te the MacLeod te get his consent for ye te live there. I kinnae vouch for the man myself as I’ve never met him, but Neil says he’s verra honorable, fierce in battle, patient, and reasonable.” Angus cocked his head as if in thought. “Now that I think about it, I’m sure the MacLeod can get ye a husband, and then the clan will more readily accept ye. Aye.” He nodded. “Get in the laird’s good graces as soon as ye meet him and ask him te find ye a husband.” A scowl twisted his lips. “Preferably one who will accept yer acting like a man sometimes.”
She frowned at him. “Youare the one who taught me how to ride bareback, wield a dagger, and shoot an arrow true.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I did. But when I started teaching ye, I thought yer mama would be around te add her woman’s touch. I did nae ken at the time that she’d pass when ye’d only seen eight summers in yer life.”
“You’re lying again,” Marion said. “You continued those lessons long after Mama’s death. You weren’t a bit worried how I’d turn out.”
“I sure was!” he objected, even as a guilty look crossed his face. “But what could I do? Ye insisted on hunting for the widows so they’d have food in the winter, and ye insisted on going out in the dark te help injured knights when I could nae go with ye. I had te teach ye te hunt and defend yerself. Plus, you were a sad, lonely thing, and I could nae verra well overlook ye when ye came te the stables and asked me te teach ye things.”
“Oh, you could have,” she replied. “Father overlooked me all the time, but your heart is too big to treat someone like that.” She patted him on the chest. “I think you taught me the best things in the world, and it seems to me any man would want his woman to be able to defend herself.”
“Shows how much ye ken about men,” Angus muttered with a shake of his head. “Men like te think a woman needsthem.”
“I dunnae need a man,” she said in her best Scottish accent.
He threw up his hands. “Ye do. Ye’re just afeared.”
The fear was true enough. Part of her longed for love, to feel as if she belonged to a family. For so long she’d wanted those things from her father, but she had never gotten them, no matter what she did. It was difficult to believe it would be any different in the future. She’d rather not be disappointed.
Angus tilted his head, looking at her uncertainly. “Ye want a wee bairn some day, dunnae ye?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted and peered down at the ground, feeling foolish.
“Then ye need a man,” he crowed.
She drew her gaze up to his. “Not just any man. I want a man who will truly love me.”
He waved a hand dismissively. Marriages of convenience were a part of life, she knew, but she would not marry unless she was in love and her potential husband loved her in return. She would support herself if she needed to.
“The other big problem with a husband for ye,” he continued, purposely avoiding, she suspected, her mention of the wordlove, “as I see it, is yer tender heart.”
“What’s wrong with a tender heart?” She raised her brow in question.
“’Tis more likely te get broken, aye?” His response was matter-of-fact.
“Nay. ’Tis more likely to have compassion,” she replied with a grin.
“We’re both right,” he announced. “Yer mama had a tender heart like ye. ’Tis why yer father’s black heart hurt her so. I dunnae care te watch the light dim in ye as it did yer mother.”
“I don’t wish for that fate, either,” she replied, trying hard not to think about how sad and distant her mother had often seemed. “Which is why I will only marry for love. And why I need to get out of England.”
“I ken that, lass, truly I do, but ye kinnae go through life alone.”
“I don’t wish to,” she defended. “But if I have to, I have you, so I’ll not be alone.” With a shudder, her heart denied the possibility that she may never find love, but she squared her shoulders.
“’Tis nae the same as a husband,” he said. “I’m old. Ye need a younger man who has the power te defend ye. And if Sir Frosty Pants ever comes after ye, you’re going te need a strong man te go against him.”
Marion snorted to cover the worry that was creeping in.
Angus moved his mouth to speak, but his reply was drowned by the sound of the supper horn blowing. “God’s bones!” Angus muttered when the sound died. “I’ve flapped my jaw too long. Ye must go now. I’ll head te the stables and start the fire as we intended. It’ll draw Andrew and Peter away if they are watching ye too closely.”
Marion looked over her shoulder at the knights, her stomach turning. She had known the plan since the day they had formed it, but now the reality of it scared her into a cold sweat. She turned back to Angus and gripped her dagger hard. “I’m afraid.”
Determination filled his expression, as if his will for her to stay out of harm would make it so. “Ye will stay safe,” he commanded. “Make yer way through the path in the woods that I showed ye, straight te Newcastle. I left ye a bag of coins under the first tree ye come te, the one with the rope tied te it. Neil will be waiting for ye by Pilgrim Gate on Pilgrim Street. The two of ye will depart from there.”
She worried her lip but nodded all the same.
“Neil has become friends with a friar who can get the two of ye out,” Angus went on. “Dunnae talk te anyone, especially any men. Ye should go unnoticed, as ye’ve never been there and won’t likely see anyone ye’ve ever come in contact with here.”
