Devils Highlander (Clan MacAlpin 1) - Page 52
Normally she might have badgered Cormac for so rudely ordering her to silence, but that had been before her last visit to the docks. Every muscle in her body froze, except for her heart, which thudded powerfully in her chest.
Not again.
She eased closer to him, grateful she had his arm to hold. At least she wasn't in men's trews this time.
“Don't move,” he whispered. “A man stands behind us. ”
Moving was the farth
est thing from her mind. In fact, merely breathing had become an effort.
“I daresay, you two make an unlikely pair of visitors. ”
Cormac stiffened at the sound of the stranger's voice.
“You've taken a fancy to the Oliphant, I see. ”
Placing a steadying hand at her back, Cormac slowly faced the newcomer. The man was not much older than forty, solidly built, with dark hair. And, Marjorie realized, he wasn't unattractive. He had quite a pleasant face, really. Smiling, her shoulders eased in relief.
Cormac, however, remained tense at her side. “You are… ?”
“Why, I suppose I could ask the same thing. ” The stranger broke into a broad smile, which he aimed right at Marjorie.
Frowning, Cormac sidled closer to her.
“But it is you who are the newcomers to my wee corner of Aberdeen, and so I shall be the one to bid welcome. ” He swept a bow. “Malcolm Forbes. Aberdeen bailie, at your service. ”
“I am Hugh Brodie, and this is my wife, Lady Gormelia. ”
The sincerity bled from her smile. That ridiculous name.
“Forbes,” Marjorie exclaimed, the pieces falling into place. He must be the one who was a friend of Archie's father. “But of course I've heard of you. ”
While she returned the man's smile, Cormac's hand slid to grip her waist. Firmly.
She cursed her eager — and unthinking — response. She'd heard of Forbes because she hailed from Aberdeen. Lady Gormelia, however, could claim no such thing. She decided to amend the error at once. “Are you the Forbes from Lanarkshire?”
She'd caught Cormac's grimace, and she stood a little taller. She thought hers a fine enough ruse, as ruses went.
“Oh dear no,” the bailie said. “I and my five magistrate peers all hail from Aberdeen. ”
“Did you hear that, my little trout?” Cormac said tightly. “Aberdeen has six bailies. Truly we're far from the banks of the Clyde now. ”
Little trout? Little trout? Did he just call her his little trout? She could concede that referring to him as Hughie might be construed as goading, but the maddening man just raised the stakes.
“Ah, you're Lowlanders, I see. ”
“Aye, from a village east of the Clyde,” Marjorie said. “But not for long—”
“Not for long, however,” Cormac interrupted, “as we find ourselves on the brink of a great move. My wee trout here” — he gave an exaggerated squeeze to her shoulders — “has a sister who just married into a Jamaican coffee plantation. ”
Marjorie shrugged, attempting to jostle Cormac's arm from around her shoulders. Clearly, he wanted to speak for both of them. The thought that he might believe her incapable of sustaining their drama vexed her.
“Jamaica. Of course,” Forbes said with a knowing nod. “Croydon, is it? I've an uncle who's spent much time in the Indies. ”
Marjorie saw Cormac's jaw tighten. They were on dangerous ground. They'd armed themselves with rudimentary information about the coffee business in the West Indies, but they'd also known that nothing could prepare them for the detailed questions that would invariably arise.
She decided that, as a woman, her mistakes would be seen as excusable, expected even. The notion galled her, but she dove in all the same. “Yes, in Croydon. My brother-in-law will be pulling Hughie in as a partner. ”
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