Page 42 of Deception and Desire
“It’s lovely to meet you both,” Rose said in a husky voice, her eyes straying to the biggest man in the room. “I’ve heard some interesting stories of the MacNaughtons.”
A smile curved Colin’s lips, his blue eyes darkening as he stepped forward to take her hand and kiss it lightly. The awkward giant had disappeared, and a charming Scot had emerged. Lachlan saw the color rise in the woman’s face as Colin’s lips brushed her skin. She was a beauty in her own right, he had to admit.
Thiswas an interesting development.
“Humdudgeon!” exclaimed Mrs. Douglas. “This will be a memorable summer.”
*
Fenella hadn’t beensure what to expect and was thankful Rose had insisted she wore a dress more suitable to a social occasion. Both MacNaughtons wore fine wool kilts in a checked pattern of red, blue, and green. A sporran hung at Lachlan’s waist, a long cream-colored tassel dangling from it. His thick auburn hair was combed back, the longish waves licking the collar of his neckcloth. A white linen shirt stretched across his powerful arms beneath a waistcoat that matched the blue in the tartan. White wool stockings disappeared into polished shoes with shining buckles. Her eyes traced the lacings that crisscrossed and hugged his muscular calves. As her gaze slowly made their way back up his handsome form, their eyes met. His held laughter and desire. That darkening of blue she’d come to recognize when he was about to touch her. The look that made her stomach tumble and her legs weak.
Then he told her she was a vision, and Fenella’s mouth went dry. She murmured an appropriate reply but could think of nothing else to say. Until a finger poked her in the back and she introduced Rose.
Fenella watched the giant move forward with grace and ease and claim Rose’s hand. “He has charm and manners?” she asked Lachlan.
The Scot shrugged. “We’re no’ heathens, ye ken. We practice the social graces when it suits us.” He grinned at his cousin and Rose. “It seems to suit him today.”
Her grandmother made a comment and thenshooshedthem into the dining room across the hall. Lachlan offered an arm to Fenella and Grandmama. The table was set with the good service, shining silver, and delicate blue flowers bordering the plates and platters. Wine glasses sparkled on the white tablecloth, which also had a pattern of dainty embroidered bluebells. The table usually held eight but was set for five.
“Fenella and Lachlan, if you would take one side, I believe Colin would enjoy sitting next to Rose.” Grandmama grinned and passed around the wine. “To new friends.”
The group echoed her toast and dinner began.
Broth was served from crockery already set out on the table. The aroma of leeks rose from the steam, and Fenella spooned a thinly sliced potato into her mouth. Stifling a giggle, she wondered how many kettles of the thin soup it would take to fill Colin’s stomach.
“Tell us about your family, Lachlan,” asked Rose. “Is the MacNaughton clan large?”
“Weel, with the fealty of the MacDunns and the Craiggs and all our distant relatives, I’d say there’s a couple hundred of us.” His voice held pride and affection. “Colin’s my second cousin—our grandfathers are brothers. I have three siblings, all younger. Ian, who just left the mill, Brodie, and Brigid.”
“Are they married? Still in Scotland?” asked her grandmother.
“I’m the eldest at six and twenty, but Ian’s two years younger and has been married less than a year. Brodie is two and twenty and has no intention of marriage yet. Though he says an heiress might tempt him.”
“But would he tempt an heiress?” asked Colin with a laugh.
“My sister is not yet twenty. Her fiery temper matches her hair, and I believe she’s frightened off any possible suitors from our part of the country.” Lachlan shrugged. “My father died when she was young, and my mother let her play with her older brothers too much.”
“It seems most men dinna want a bride who can outride and outhunt them,” explained Colin. “She’s not one to, well, use her feminine charms.Take me as I am or dinna take me at all, she tells them.”
“Aye, and Ma is at her wits’ end trying to turn her into a lady after a childhood of imitating her brothers. It doesna reflect well on a granddaughter of the clan chief.”
“I would like to meet your sister. She sounds fascinating.” Fenella wanted to ask Lachlan if he preferred independent women, but decided to keep that conversation for another time.
Her grandmother picked up a small silver bell, and it sounded with a light tinkle, calling for the next course. A young girl carried a large venison roast on a platter, surrounded by cooked turnips and onions. She set it down between Mrs. Douglas and Lachlan, then returned with a large bowl of boiled potatoes and fresh bread.
Lachlan picked up the knife and fork, sliced some meat, and offered her a piece. Fenella accepted the venison with a nod. His warm breath fanned her cheek as he leaned toward her. She was inches from his clean-shaven jaw and wondered what it would feel like against her own. After serving his hostess and himself, he pushed the platter to Colin.
With full plates, the conversation began again.
“And what about you?” asked Mrs. Douglas. “Do ye have siblings? And why is it a mon of yer age is not married?”
Fenella had wondered the same and recognized the flash of sorrow pass over the man’s face.
“I’m afraid I’ve no’ been lucky in love, ma’am. My wife and bairn died in childbirth after two years of marriage. I’ve never found another to replace her.” His voice was quiet, and a hush fell over the group. He pushed his fork around the empty plate, searching for an invisible crumb.
Rose covered his large hand with her own smaller one. “I’m sorry for you, Colin. I hope you find that kind of love again. And if not, you were lucky to have it once.”
He turned, then, and looked at the woman next to him. They shared a long, steady gaze that made Fenella’s eyes misty, watching their sudden bond. Her heart went out to this lonely giant and her compassionate friend. She had judged him as a gruff but humorous bear, never considering he might be burdened with a heartrending past. Perhaps her grandmother was right and she was just a little judgmental. A heavy silence hovered over the table.
