Page 29 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

“Geordie,” he tried in a reasoning tone. “It will no’ kill ye to wait a week or two to marry and bed the lass.”

“Really?” Geordie narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I will wait a week or two . . . if you do.”

Aulay stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “What mean ye by that?”

“I mean, if ye’re willing no’ to bed yer wife fer the week or two it takes fer everyone to get here, I’ll no’ bed Dwyn. Howbeit,” he added firmly, “I suggest we both go to the lodge until the wedding day to ensure we both behave.”

Aulay’s mouth tightened grimly. “I’ll talk to her father.”

“Ye do that,” Geordie said dryly, and turned to glance at Dwyn, frowning when he saw that Rory had arrived, as had Uncle Acair, and they and Alick were now all gathered around Dwyn, laughing, and chatting up a storm. And the lass was laughing too. Her hair was a wild tumble of pale gold around her face and shoulders that gleamed in the candlelight, her eyes were sparkling, and she wore the wide, relaxed smile of a woman who had just rolled from bed after being tumbled. She was ridiculously gorgeous, and his brothers were noticing. They were also noticing how the neckline of her gown dropped with her every laugh.

Growling deep in his throat, he started toward the table, but was brought up short by Aulay’s hand on his arm.

“They are yer brothers and uncle. She is safe with them,” his older brother said firmly, and then pointed out, “And we have a contract to negotiate.”

“You negotiate it,” Geordie said in a low grating voice. “I—”

“You will come with me for the negotiations. Ye can survive without Dwyn fer an hour or so.”

“An hour?” he protested with dismay.

“This is yer life we are about to negotiate, Geordie,” he pointed out. “And hers. Ye can spare an hour to see ’tis done right.”

Sighing at that, Geordie glanced toward Dwyn as she laughed again.

“Aye,” was all he said, but he followed silently as Aulay led him to the lower table where Dwyn’s father sat talking to Una and Aileen.

Chapter 8

“Tonight?” Baron James Innes squawked. He’d been most accommodating until this point in the conversation, nodding calmly as Aulay explained that Geordie would like Dwyn to wife. The man did not even seem surprised. He’d agreed with all the points Aulay had made, assuring them that Geordie would be his heir and the next laird, even saying that he grew weary of the task and would be pleased to share it with him until Geordie had a chance to get a feel for the place and the people and was ready to take over fully as laird. It was only when Aulay got to the part about the marriage taking place right away, that very evening, that James Innes had balked.

“Are ye mad?” the man asked now. “How would that look?”

“I do no’ care how it looks. I want her. Now,” Geordie said grimly.

James Innes narrowed his eyes on him, and then dropped to sit on the edge of Aulay’s desk and shook his head. “Ye’ve fallen hard fer the lass, just like I did her mother all those years ago. The two are so much alike, I sometimes . . .” He sighed and glanced to Geordie. “It snuck up on ye, did it no’? Ye most like looked at Dwyn and thought she was a nice enough lass, a small wren, not displeasing to the eye, but by no means as lovely as a white swan, or as majestic as the golden eagle. And then she smiled, and laughed, and began to speak, and ye saw the swan hiding behind the wren. And did ye kiss her, or anything else, ye found the golden eagle and its mighty talons have got ye by the scruff o’ the neck now.”

Geordie remained silent, but blinked at the words. They described things pretty well, except he would have said it was his ballocks the eagle had in its talons, and he liked it. In fact, he wanted more of it.

“Well.” James stood up and straightened his shoulders. “I understand yer eagerness. I have been there meself. But I’m going to make ye wait until tomorrow night.” He held up a hand for silence when Geordie started to protest, and pointed out, “Lady Jetta already planned for a feast tomorrow, and me daughter deserves a feast fer her wedding. She deserves to remember her wedding day fondly, and as special. No’ as some rushed affair ere ye tumble her and take her maiden’s veil.”

Geordie forced himself to relax. Dwyn did deserve a wedding feast. He could wait one night and day to give her a celebration she might be able to remember fondly.

“Very well,” Laird Innes said solemnly, correctly taking his silence as agreement. “Then let’s get this contract drawn up and signed.”

“There we go, then. This leather should protect the linen that protects yer feet.”

Dwyn smiled at Rory Buchanan as he finished wrapping a soft thin leather around the linens he’d already bound her injured feet with. They looked ridiculously big now he was done, but she could sit on the bench seat and set them in the rushes without worry of infection. Which was something at least.

“No more airing them out,” Rory added firmly now. “I ken most people think ’tis good for a wound to be aired on occasion, but I’ve found it slows healing rather than aids it. And the risk o’ infection increases, especially on feet.” Straightening, he met her gaze. “And ye must still stay off them fer now, especially the right foot. Ye’ve a couple o’ deep cuts there that are like to split open the minute ye put weight on it. They’ll heal quicker do ye stay off them.”

“Aye. I’ll stay off them,” Dwyn assured him when he paused expectantly.

“Will she be able to dance by tomorrow night?” Una asked as Rory started putting his medicinals back in his bag. She and Aileen had come to join them shortly after Aulay and Geordie had disappeared above stairs with their father. The pair had hovered behind the men, paying close attention to everything Rory had said.

“Me sisters,” Dwyn explained when Rory and the other two men turned to peer at the two brunettes eyeing them with concern. Gesturing to the taller lass wearing a cream dress today, she said, “This is Una, and—” she gestured to the shorter lass in a dark green gown “—Aileen.”

A moment was spared for the men to offer up greetings and for Una and Aileen to respond, and then Rory answered Una’s question.

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