The Pursuit by Johanna Lindsey
“Ye canna hide in here,” Ian Six told him. “That will solve nothing.”
“Where the hell did you come from? I didn’t hear the door.”
“Because I was already here. Ye were sae distracted, ye didna notice me.”
“If you tell me we are to share this room, I just might kill you.”
Ian laughed heartily. “Then glad I am tae tell ye m’room is down the hall. Kimberly has no qualms aboot piling her brothers into four rooms when we visit—has two large beds in each for just that purpose—but she’d be appalled tae stick any other guests in wi’ us. Fortunately, Kregora is big enough for her no’ tae be appalled often. Ye’ve been given m’da’s room, as it happens, an honor, since it’s surely the best guest room o’ the lot. I had a feeling she’d put ye here, which is why I was here afore ye.”
“And where will the legend be put, then, if he decides to make this the more the merrier?”
The note of unease was detected through the sarcasm. Ian answered, “He willna show up. He doesna travel far from home anymore. His legs swell up these days if he does too much walking, sae he keeps close tae home. But ye’ll be meeting him this time around, I’m thinking. Sae dinna think o’ him as the legend, mon. He’s Meli’s grandda, that’s all ye’re needing tae know aboot him.”
Lincoln had to ask it, a question that had plagued him often all those years ago. “Why was I never allowed to meet him before?”
Ian grinned. “Because as children we were all o’ us bursting proud o’ ‘The Legend,’ and all o’ us protective o’ keeping the image intact. Tae meet our da was tae see that he’s just a normal mon—reclusive, aye, grouchy back then, aye, but still just a normal man.”
Lincoln snorted at that answer. Ian laughed at him and settled farther back in the chair in the corner. Seeing that he was making himself more comfortable rather than leaving, Lincoln scowled.
“What are you doing here, MacFearson, other than annoying me?”
“Och, touchy ye are. Could it be I’m here tae do ye a good turn?”
“Not bloody likely.”
“As it happens—”
“As it happens,” Lincoln cut in, “I need some space in this house that—”
“Castle,” Ian corrected.
“Whatever,” Lincoln continued. “Space that doesn’t include you and your brothers. Consider this room a sanctum—mine—not to be trespassed, violated, or otherwise entered by any of the savages that share your surname.”
“Ye’ll be saving us both a lot o’ time if ye’ll just be quiet for a wee bit sae I can say m’peace.”
Lincoln moved to the bed, dropped back onto it in a show of extreme exasperation. He put a hand over his eyes, counted to ten, then twenty. He needed more hands, since he had no trouble hearing Ian as he continued.
“Meli is no’ just m’niece, she’s also m’friend, and let me tell ye why, so ye’ll understand what else I’m going tae tell ye.”
“Why not restrain yourself instead and keep your opinions or whatevers to yourself?” Lincoln mumbled.
Ian ignored him as he was trying to ignore Ian—with little success. “I dinna remember if it was e’er mentioned tae ye, but m’mother died only a year or sae after I was born, afore I had any memories tae store o’ her.”
“It wasn’t—mentioned that is,” Lincoln replied uncomfortably.
Ian nodded, continued, “I bring it up tae explain why when our sister showed up right after ye left, her being older than all o’ us, I sort o’ took tae her like the mother I ne’er had. From then on I was more often at Kregora than at home, especially after Meli was born. Now all o’ m’brothers had experience o’ bairns as more and more o’ them were born, but me being the youngest, I’d ne’er been close tae one afore then and was purely fascinated by Kimber’s.”
“Are you getting to the point soon?”
“M’point is, I’ve an understanding of Melissa, better’n m’brothers, because her and I became friends. And as happens wi’ some friends, I can sense her feelings, sometimes e’en afore she’s aware o’ them.”
“So?”
“Sae I know ye formed some sort o’ bond wi’ her that first day ye met her. It wasna love yet, but it was…something. After just a single meeting she knew she wanted tae wed ye. Ye knew it as well, came tae ask for permission tae court her the verra next day. I watched and I listened. She could talk o’ nothing else but ye on the way tae London. Whate’er the link was, it was too strong tae go away, e’en when ye took too long tae make another appearance, and she began tae think ye ne’er would.”
Lincoln had sat up and was now frowning at Ian. “You aren’t telling me anything I don’t know.”
“Nae, what I’m telling ye is I know it as well. And what I am assuring ye of is I want tae see ye marry her just as much as ye do. For whatever reason, ye both knew from the start that ye were meant for each other—instinct, if ye will. I allowed who ye are tae cloud that simple fact for a while. I’m telling ye, mon, I’m on her side, and thus on yers. Sae’s m’sister. I’m telling ye, ye’re no’ alone here, just ye against them all. So dinna give up hope, and dinna let them get tae ye.”
“You realize that under the circumstances I’m forced to doubt you?”
Ian sighed. “Aye, I figured ye would. Just keep it in mind if ye start thinking ye canna get through this. Ye can. And for what it’s worth, no’ all o’ m’brothers are against ye. Aye, I know ye’ll be doubting that as well. There’s some hoping ye’ll fail and fall apart again, but there’s some hoping ye’ll prove them wrong, too.”
Lincoln restrained an instinctive snort. He wasn’t sure what Ian was up to with his attempt at encouragement, possibly hoping he’d let down his guard. Not a chance. He did feel somewhat bolstered, however, and although he wouldn’t thank Ian for that, it was just what he’d needed. He might be able to get through at least a few days more.
Forty-Two
“WAS that wise, d’ye think, putting him down there wi’ all o’ them?” Lachlan whispered aside to his wife that night at dinner.
“It wasn’t my doing,” Kimberly whispered back, her tone highly annoyed over the subject. “If you didn’t notice, my brothers made sure they entered the dining room first and began systematically filling the seats from this end down, giving Lincoln nowhere else to sit other than as far from us as possible—and surrounded by them. I wish you’d talk to them. They’re taking this thing too seriously and won’t listen to me about leaving him alone.”
“No’ a chance, darlin’,” he replied. “I dinna want them leaving him alone—though a mon should be allowed tae eat in peace.”
“One exception?” she said. “Bah, you’re as bad as they are!”
“Nay, they’re doing for me what I’d feel uncomfortable doing m’self.”
“Playing musical chairs?”
He snorted at her dry rejoinder, though it had been rather amusing to watch her brothers snatch chairs out of Lincoln’s hands not once but twice, before Lincoln realized what they were doing and with dignity moved to the end of the table.
“He needs tae be provoked, Kimber, and ye know it,” Lachlan replied. “We need tae see him lose his temper and see what happens when he does. How else am I tae be rid o’ this unease his past behavior has left me wi’?”
“You could just trust your daughter’s instincts like I do,” she hissed back at him. “She isn’t worried about his so-called temper.”
“Because she’s yet tae see it,” he pointed out. “The lad’s been showing remarkable restraint in that respect, I’ll allow—at least so far. E’en when Charles attacked him last night at that inn, Lincoln showed only exasperation o’er it, no’ any real anger.”
“An excellent example—”
“But in no way conclusive.”
She gave him a sour look. “How long are you going to make him suffer?”
“Och, dinna make it sound like we’re torturing him,” he complained.
“How long?” she repeated.
Her scowl didn’t ease. “We’re never going to see eye to eye on this.”
“Then stop trying. Let me find peace in m’own assurance. We dinna know him, Kimber,” he told her. “Meli doesna really know him either. Her feelings are based on just that—feelings, no’ facts. I’m giving him this chance tae prove himself, but he’ll be proving nothing if he’s left alone, wi’ nothing tae react tae.”
“Must I remind you that you didn’t know him when you gave him permission to court her in the first place?”
“Dinna be silly, now,” he scolded. “I wouldna know any o’ the young men she met in London either, but we sent her off tae find one tae her liking. Megan would’ve closed the door on any that were no’ suitable. But Lincoln I at least met first, and I judged him on the surface as I would any mon. He presented himself well, and his feelings were obviously earnest. That was enough—without any known facts tae discredit him. But other facts are known now and canna be ignored, as much as ye’d like them tae be.”
“Don’t think it doesn’t bother me, what he did as a child. But, like Meli, I’m inclined to think that was an isolated occurrence that won’t ever be repeated, and whatever caused it, he’s outgrown.”
“Then what are ye fretting about? He’s being given a chance tae prove that tae the rest o’ us who are no’ as sure as ye.”
“I’m fretting because siccing my brothers on him—and don’t think I don’t know that’s what you’ve done—is not a nice thing to do.”
He gave her a wide grin. “They’re yer brothers, Kimber. And I didna tell them tae provoke him. I just didna tell them no’ tae.”
“Which is the same as giving them permission.”
He shrugged. “If ye mun see it that way, fine. I choose tae see it as an acceptable means tae an end. Or did ye want our ‘getting tae know him’ tae go on indefinitely, wi’ no’ conclusions drawn?”
“Point taken,” she mumbled.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Ye give in so gracefully, darlin’.”
“Oh, shut up.”
At the opposite end of the table, Lincoln was too tense to appreciate the wide array of food being laid before him. It looked delicious. He had no stomach to taste any of it. His concentration was divided between trying to keep his eyes off Melissa, who was sitting near her parents so far away, and wondering when her uncles were going to let on what they were up to.
They’d said not a word to him so far. But their antics when he entered the room were a near guarantee that they intended to. Twenty seats exactly, and they’d left him only one to sit in. There could have been more. The length of the room would accommodate a much longer table, and many chairs lined up against the walls on both sides of it indicated it could be extended if needed, or another table or two brought in.
When one of the brothers finally addressed him, it was actually a relief, and amazingly mild, when he’d been expecting some cuts to the quick.
“Ye’re in for a treat, Linc,” Johnny said. He was sitting three seats down, so most of those at their end of the table could hear him. “Kimber’s cook is French and doesna drown a good piece o’ meat in water, which is all ye English know how tae do wi’ food.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Lincoln replied.
“Is it, now? Simple is more like it. But then a lack o’ intelligence would opt for simple.”
Lincoln sat back, even smiled. “Are you trying to insult me by insulting the English? Or have you forgotten where I was born?”
“As if that matters, when ye took tae them like a fish tae water.” Charles snorted. “Ye e’en sound like them. Shows who you favor.”
“No, it shows how adept the English are at ridiculing an accent other than their own—English children anyway. But then that can be said for children anywhere.”
They tried to find something offending in his calm reply but couldn’t quite manage it, so Ian Four continued on the same subject. “How long did it take for ye to buckle under to that ridicule?”
“Two years, fourteen fights, and three suspensions from school later. That actually wouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t very well fight the teachers. Even toned down, they still refused to try to understand my speech and quickly lost tolerance for the disruption to their classes that the other children were causing with their ridicule. After enough complaints, my uncle was forced to hire a tutor to teach me English all over again.”
“Did ye win any o’ those fights?” Neill asked with some genuine curiosity.
“Probably about half,” Lincoln replied. “I wasn’t really keeping track.”
“That when ye learned tae fight dirty?” Malcolm was heard from.
It was asked without sneering, so Lincoln answered in kind, “No, I was finished with school before I sought out a few different means of protecting myself. Didn’t even think of it when I was still young. And besides, my later years in school were rather enjoyable, so there was no need.”
“Then why?”
Lincoln shrugged. “I was drawn into a rather…disorderly crowd in my early twenties. Considering some of the disreputable places we could end up in on a lark, it seemed a wise course of action.”
A couple of them nodded, actually agreeing with him. He realized, about the same time they did, that they were having a somewhat normal conversation, certainly not what they’d intended, he was sure. Ian Five corrected that.
“Takes skill tae fight fair. ’Course, if ye havena a chance o’ honing skill due tae clumsiness or pure stupidity, then, aye, resorting tae trickery would be yer only option.”
“Sit down, Linc,” Callum said when he stood up abruptly. “If ye canna take a few insults, then ye dinna really want Meli.”
“The one’s got nothing to do with the other, you ass. After I wed her—and I am going to wed her—I won’t put up with this nonsense any further.”
“If ye can manage tae wed her, ye willna hae tae,” Adam remarked. “Ye’d be a member o’ the family, and we take care o’ our own.”
“Spare me that dubious distinction, if you don’t mind,” Lincoln said. “And I’m leaving because I have no appetite, and rather than offend any of you, I’m going to my room to laugh myself silly over your pathetic attempts to insult me. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”
Forty-Three
MELISSA went to bed seriously disgruntled with her father. She was beginning to feel like a prisoner, even though she knew what he was doing and why. He hadn’t actually placed a guard at her door to make sure she stayed in her own bed throughout the night, but he might as well have.
He’d been lingering in the hall outside her room when she retired. Unable to get right to sleep, she’d decided to raid the kitchen an hour later and had found him still out in the hall, talking with one of their kin. She’d closed her door before he saw her.
She did finally sleep, despite her annoyance, but it was a fitful sleep, filled with wild dreams and even a nightmare that woke her abruptly in the wee hours. Nothing new, that particular nightmare. She’d had it many times before in one form or another, about the lake and the blasted dragon that owned it. She usually woke just before she was eaten. This time she woke just before Lincoln was eaten.
She hadn’t dreamed about the lake since she’d met him, so it was the first time he’d been in one of her nightmares. That wasn’t odd, though. Over the years many of her friends and relatives had made appearances in her lake nightmares and been swallowed up by the dragon—she didn’t always wake before the beast won. But in this nightmare Lincoln had been trying to save her. A heroic effort, though pointless—the dragon always won.
She shrugged off the dream as she usually did. These dreams never ke
But finding herself awake in the middle of the night, her curiosity moved her to open her door. Sure enough, a clansman was sitting on the short wall bench out there, reading a book by candlelight. She had a mind to leave her room to see what he’d do, whether he’d warn her to get back in, or go fetch her father instead. It was so obvious what he was doing there, when he had no business being there at all.
Ironically, she hadn’t thought about trying to see Lincoln alone at night, until this made it so clear her father thought she would try to. She’d instead been plotting how to see him alone during the day and had already set in motion a plan that should give them a few hours together come morning.
Ian Six was going to take her riding and invite Lincoln to join them. As long as they were chaperoned, her parents couldn’t object. And he’d promised to give them some time to talk in private, though, he’d stressed, talking was all they were to be doing.
Talking was all she’d had in mind. It was what was needed right now, since they hadn’t managed any conversation on the trip north, at least nothing personal. No one expected them not to speak to each other at all, but they couldn’t very well say what was on their minds with dozens of ears tuning in on each word that passed between them.
She was worried that Lincoln would get fed up and return to London—without her—that he hadn’t realized what a monumental task it was going to be to win over her family. She hadn’t realized it either, had really thought they’d soon give Lincoln the benefit of the doubt.
The journey home should have been pleasant. With them all crammed into close quarters, it had been an excellent opportunity for her parents to learn more about Lincoln and thus relieve their worries. But then her uncles showed up, and because of his animosity with them, he didn’t say much after that. And last night at dinner it became clear that they simply weren’t going to leave him alone.