Blowing out his breath, he released her ankle and stepped back. “With all those long skirts and immense bonnets, I reckoned all ye English lasses floated above the ground on the morning breeze.”
Amelia-Rose laughed. The image of half a hundred young ladies being carried aloft by a gust of wind actually didn’t seem that far-fetched, now that she considered it. “You are not what I expected, Niall MacTaggert,” she said, walking Mirabel in a circle around him.
“Neither are ye.”
She stiffened a little. “Is that bad?”
“Nae.” He continued looking at her, pivoting to keep her in view as she circled. “Nae.”
Niall didn’t care to be walloped, even by a petite, delicate English lass, and for that reason he hoped she never discovered that adae didn’t mean “rose.” It meant “trouble.” And she was presently causing him a great deal of that. Truthfully it wasn’t all her fault, because if Coll had done as he was supposed to, as he’d sworn to after they’d all drawn cards and he’d lost the game, it would be the viscount taking Amelia-Rose to coffee and the damned picnic.
But his … annoyance, he supposed it was, wasn’t about an imagined inconvenience, of having to take her to a luncheon when he had something better to do—because riding off to find a dim-witted wife didn’t particularly appeal at the moment.
He liked the way Amelia-Rose laughed. Aye, he charmed people all the time, put them at ease, heard them laugh at his jests. She gave out her laughter like it was a prize; as if someone had told her that ladies didn’t laugh out loud and so she’d determined not to do so, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d promised to be more proper today, as if she hadn’t felt justified in handing Coll that well-deserved insult last night. In the tales his father told, females of the English variety were all coy and self-concerned and not a match for any Highlander. This one, Coll’s almost-betrothed, didn’t fit that mold. At all.
Niall shook himself as he reached Oswell House again, after only one wrong turn. This townhouse was nothing at all like the sprawling castle up in the Highlands. Pogan, the butler at Aldriss, had complained for years that he never had any idea where any of the MacTaggert brothers might be, because they were in and out at all hours of the day and night, and often enough didn’t even use the doors to enter and exit. Niall had once literally butted heads with Aden as his brother left the mansion through a library window while he climbed back in through the same window after a night spent in a bonny lass’s bed.
The entire front of Oswell House, though, overlooked the street. One rear door led into the tidy brick-walled garden and then a small park behind that, which had more possibilities for secrecy at least in the middle of the night—as long as none of the neighbors happened to be looking out their own windows. The side door opened to a covered drive with the stable directly behind it.
Niall swung down from Kelpie and handed him off to one of the stableboys. Before he reached the plain back door it swung open, and the bony butler eyed him. “The countess is looking for Lord Glendarril,” he stated, stepping aside to allow Niall through. “She’s been looking for him all morning.”
“And a bonny day to ye as well, Smythe,” Niall returned, heading for the main part of the house.
“She says that if she doesn’t speak to him by sunset, there will be consequences.”
Niall kept walking. The fine mood he’d been in shredding with every step, he made for the stairs and the second floor. “Oscar!” he called, stripping off his damned heavy jacket as he went and tossing it over Rory’s unoccupied antler.
Without waiting for an answer he counted doors until he reached Aden’s temporary bedchamber, where he shoved open that door and stalked in. The heavy curtains were still closed, and his brother lay in a massive pile of blankets and pillows crossways on the large bed. The sprawl wasn’t unusual; his brother had always been as restless in his sleep as he was during the day.
“Aden,” he said, continuing on to the window and pushing open the first set of curtains.
“Damn ye and the horse ye rode in on,” came from the bed in a muffled growl. “Close the bloody curtains or I’ll thrash ye.”
Niall shoved open the next set of curtains. “I’ve nae seen Coll since act one last night, and I just had to take his nearly betrothed out for coffee in his stead.”
The blankets erupted outward as Aden sat up. “How horrible is the lass? Pig? Coo? Clucking hen?”
“She’s bonny enough,” Niall returned, her artistic tangle of blond hair and those sky-colored eyes still fresh in his mind. “Less meek than Coll reckoned for, I suppose. Instead of bothering to talk to her, he got up and left. The rest of it didnae matter a whit.” She wouldn’t like that he’d pointed out her sharp tongue. Beneath her varying levels of propriety she did have an air of daintiness and delicacy about her, something that made a man wish to protect the lass, to step between her and any danger.
His older brother nodded, swiped lanky black hair out of his eyes, and slid to his feet. “Did he take Nuckelavee?”
“He left the theater on foot. He’s still that way unless he stole someaught.”
Oscar skidded into the doorway. “Och! Waking ye up wasnae my idea, Master Aden. I warned him n—”
“Go fetch me a strong coffee and some food,” Aden cut in. “And have Loki saddled.”
“Aye. Right away,” the valet said, and vanished again.
Niall watched him go. “Ye’ve got poor Oscar terrified of ye, ye ken.”
Aden shrugged out of his nightshirt and dug into the immense wardrobe that dominated the room. “I warned him to leave me be. If I’d truly wanted to do him harm, I would have thrown something heavier than a boot at him.”
“And while I’m certain he’s thankful ye didnae, it still knocked him out cold.”
“Th—”
“There you are, Niall,” Eloise said from the doorway behind him. “Mama asked—Oh!”
Niall looked from his sister’s startled face to Aden’s bare arse as his brother searched for clothes. Aden straightened, grinned at her, and went back to his task. With a sigh Niall stepped between them, heading for the door. “Ye’ve just allowed several arses to move into yer house, Eloise. I reckon ye’re bound to catch sight of one or more of ’em from time to time.” Nudging her backward into the hallway, he shut the door behind him.
Her pink cheeks darkened further. “Here in London we close our doors while we’re dressing,” she snapped. “What if I’d had a friend with me?”
“I doubt Aden would’ve minded. What did yer mother want with me?”
She sent another glance at the doorway, then visibly shook herself. “She’s your mother, too, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Really, Niall? You’re going to put me in the middle of this?”
He’d hurt her. Niall reached down and took her hand. If there was one thing all three of the MacTaggert brothers could agree about, it was that none of this mess was Eloise’s fault. She’d grown up, and she’d fallen in love. Not one of them could fault her for that. “Thank ye for the sandwich last night. Ye saved my life.”