Page 49 of A Bonny Pretender
“I enjoy my hound’s company, but I didna marry her.” Lachlan sat back and crossed his arms over his broad chest. The linen shirt was snug around his upper arms, his knuckles scraped and red. A man not afraid of giving or receiving a good pummeling.
“She’s clever, and beautiful, and brave.” Those were all good qualities, he thought. Better than,She stirs my blood, drives me mad when she’s not around, and drives me mad when she’s close. I’d take her to Gretna Green tonight if I could and plant a babe in her belly before morning.
No, that wouldn’t do at all. He reached for the bottle of scotch whisky.
“We know all that. Why will she make ye a good wife?” asked Colin, mimicking Lachlan’s stance.
“She’s educated and will run my household,” he said with a smile. That was an excellent point.
“She told ye that?” Lachlan smirked. “Ye realize she canna cook? At least, ye canna eat it.”
Frank chuckled. “Tarts are her specialty, she said. Regardless, I have a cook. She only needs to give the orders.”
“She’s good at that,” agreed Colin. “Ye dinna mind her sharp tongue?”
“I beg your pardon,” Frank objected, feeling his feathers ruffle. “Brigid is gracious, and generous, and a kind.”
Silence.
Extremely loud laughter.
“What’s so amusing? She’s graceful on the dance floor, listens well, and I consider her to be an ideal, gently bred woman.” A slow anger kindled. Family or not, these men would not insult Brigid.
Colin wiped his eyes. “She’s never overseen a household nor did she care to learn. Her grandmother and mother let her run the hills and glens as a child. She was our constant shadow. The lass would make a better husband than wife.”
Frank stood up so abruptly, his chair tipped backward. “I won’t stand for Miss MacNaughton to be insulted. I demand you take that back.”
Colin rose slowly and peered down his nose at Frank. “What if I dinna?”
“I’ll demand satisfaction,” he said without hesitation. His gaze never faltered, and the rage inside him added to his determination. “No one speaks ill of the woman I plan to marry. And I will. Marry. Brigid. MacNaughton.” His finger jabbed into Colin’s chest with the last four words.
“Ye’re willing to take this outside and decide it with this?” jeered the Scot, holding up his massive fist.
“If need be, I will.” His jaw ticked; his fingers curled into tight fists at his side. From the corner of his eye, he saw a man at the next table stand and adjust his cap. Friend of the MacNaughtons? So much for honor. “Whether I win or get beaten to a pulp, it doesn’t matter. I will defend her to my last breath.”
