“Well, you certainly have no say in matters here. Promises were made.”
He sent Amelia-Rose a sideways look. “I didnae promise anything. Did ye promise anything, lass?”
“No, I didn’t.”
She would never have said that if it had been her alone. But she was tired of being caught up in all these machinations for status and respectability, and Niall’s plain, outspoken manner felt refreshing. And she wanted him to kiss her again.
“Amelia-Rose Hyacinth Baxter,” Victoria snapped. “You will return to that ballroom at once and dance your next dance.” She pivoted to glare again at Niall. “And you will inform your mother that Mr. Baxter and I will be calling on her at ten o’clock in the morning and that we are most displeased.”
“I’ll alert the pipers, then,” he said dryly.
Amelia-Rose didn’t know if he was jesting or not, but her mother practically dragged her off the balcony and back into the ballroom, so she couldn’t ask him. Part of her hoped he wasn’t.
So she and Coll had apparently broken their agreement, but a whole new box of troubles had just opened. At this moment only two things comforted her—that Niall had saved her on the dance floor, and that whatever happened, she wasn’t going to have to marry Niall’s brother.
As for that kiss … Good heavens. She didn’t want to think logically yet, but she did have to acknowledge that Niall possessed the very same detriments as his older brother—he was a rough-hewn, mannerless Highlander who disdained London. He’d said he wished he could return home. He was even less acceptable to her parents—and oh, she wanted him. She did. Trying to convince herself otherwise …
But nothing had been resolved. No one had pledged anything, and she still had a very large problem.
She could conclude now that what she’d suspected was true, that the past days he’d spent in her company hadn’t been solely on his brother’s behalf, just for the sake of Aldriss Park. He’d as much as warned her that she and Coll wouldn’t suit. But had he done that for her, or for him? Just because he’d been correct didn’t excuse the way he’d essentially backstabbed his brother—or did it?
What did Niall want from her, anyway? Her virtue? Her hand in marriage? He’d never courted her on his own behalf, after all. All she knew was that half the women in the ballroom wanted him, and that her lack of propriety didn’t seem to trouble him a whit. And that being the focus of his attention and his desire was the most heady thing she’d ever experienced in her life. Goodness. Her legs felt weak, and she didn’t think it was still because of Coll’s rudeness.
This was not going to end well. She knew that as well as she knew anything. Niall had stopped a nightmare in midstride, but that didn’t make him the answer to all her problems. Even if he had been proper and English, he lacked a title. Her parents—her mother—wouldn’t allow any man without a title to walk away with her daughter. Amelia-Rose had heard her say it; she’d been close to aristocracy all her life, close enough to touch, but not inside the door. Victoria Baxter wanted inside that door, even if it was as the duchess’s or marchioness’s or countess’s or viscountess’s mother.
Aside from all that, Niall wasn’t very proper. In fact he seemed to delight in tossing propriety onto its head. Nor was he English. He had no love for her native land, no respect for the traditions of her or her peers—even though they were his peers, as well—and he’d expected to find an empty-headed, weak-willed lady for himself. He’d told her so, if not in those exact words.
Amelia-Rose shook herself. He’d kissed her. That was all. He hadn’t proposed, or declared that he’d fallen for her, or anything more than that he found her charming. Yes, the kiss had been magnificent, and yes, she liked him a great deal, but she had no idea what it all meant. Logically she needed to figure that out before she began lamenting all the things that could never be.
Thomas Dennison hesitantly stepped forward to claim her for the country dance, and after a word from her to explain that Lord Glendarril had choked on something and had had to send in his brother as his second, she was out on the dance floor jumping and twirling again. She tried to enjoy herself; after all, she did love dancing, and the social interaction and conversation and glamour of a grand ball.
With every turn, though, her gaze went to the guests who weren’t dancing. Her mother’s glare lingered for barely a heartbeat. Her father’s annoyance for the same length of time, if that. There was Lady Aldriss, her brow furrowed, her attention on her youngest son. And there stood Niall MacTaggert, saying something brief to the countess and then meeting Amelia-Rose’s gaze. And most unsettling and electrifying of all, this time he didn’t bother to hide his smile.
“You were unforgivably rude, Coll.”
Coll sat back in his chair at the breakfast table and folded his arms over his chest. “Aye. I reckon I’m calling yer bluff, Lady Aldriss. And only because Aldriss Park is involved, I’ll tell ye the lass turned me away.”
Niall, seated across the small table from his oldest brother, looked down, stabbing another pork sausage to cover the move and his roiling anger. He’d known Amelia-Rose had serious reservations about Coll, and vice versa, but Coll had nearly ruined her. For a lass as sensitive about her reputation as she was, that had been devastating. She had plenty of spleen, aye, but last night could have gone very, very differently.
“And I suppose you haven’t got any idea why she would do such a thing,” Lady Aldriss countered.
“Nae.” He pinned her with a glare. “I only described what I intended for our marriage—one that mirrors yers. Her staying in London, me carrying on in the Highlands, and any bairns she might have residing with me.”
The countess’s cheeks paled beneath her carefully applied blush. “You’re a cruel boy. You wanted to hurt me, and instead you hurt an innocent young lady whose parents put far too heavy a burden on her shoulders.”
Coll looked away at that, finding something out the window to catch caught his eye. “She called me a buffoon.”
Aden at the far end of the table snorted. “Good for her.”
“Shut yer gobber. At least ye have a say in which Sassenach ye’re leg-shackled to.”
“For your information,” their mother countered, “and aside from the fact that you’ve violated the terms of my agreement with your father, I have made inquiries about you over the years. I know you to be hotheaded and abrupt, not one to suffer fools in silence. I chose Amelia-Rose Baxter with you in mind, my son. She is clever and quick-witted and very kind as well as being lovely—a perfect counter to you.”
“If ye reckoned I’d trust ye to choose any woman for me, ye reckoned wrong,” Coll retorted. “I’ll nae wed that sharp-tongued shrew. And she’ll nae have me. So do yer worst.”
The countess opened her mouth and shut it again. “You are … forcing me to take an action I had hoped—”
Niall launched himself over the table, catching his brother with a hard fist to the jaw before they both crashed to the floor. Coll had hurt her. And the bastard wasn’t even sorry about it. Whipping around, using his speed against his brother’s size, Niall hit him again, plowing into Coll as the viscount started back to his feet. A chair cracked into splinters beneath them.
“What the—”
Ducking an arm, Niall swung in again. “Ye nae had any intention of marrying her,” he growled, shaking off a glancing blow to his shoulder.
“And so ye wasted a few days being kind to her. Why do—”
“Ye have nae idea, do ye, amadan? Ye just decided to ruin her life because ye dunnae like yers, ye fu—”
Aden grabbed him from behind, hauling him off Coll. At the same time, no doubt alerted by the noise, Gavin, Oscar, and Wallace the piper skidded into the room to grab the viscount, pulling him in the opposite direction as Charles the second piper took hold of Niall’s other arm.