CHAPTER 2
GIBRALTAR AND ELIZABETH ST. CLAIR HAD BEEN RIDING toward their son’s home in the Highlands for over a week before Gibraltar finally confessed his plan. He wouldn’t have told her at all, but he couldn’t stand to see his wife upset.
“Did you hear that?” Elizabeth said accusingly to her husband as she rounded her mare and cantered back to his side. “Did you?”
“Hear what? I couldn’t hear a thing. You were too far away,” he teased.
“That’s it, Gibraltar. I’ve had it!”
Gibraltar raised an inquiring brow. “What’s it, love?” Flushed with outrage, his wife was even more alluring than she was when calm. He wasn’t above gently provoking her to enjoy the show.
Elizabeth tossed her head briskly. “I am sick of hearing men talk about our flawless, saintly, unwed—as in nearly a spinster—daughter, Gibraltar.”
“You’ve been eavesdropping again, haven’t you, Elizabeth?” he asked mildly.
“Eavesdropping, schmeavesdropping. If my daughter is being discussed, even if only by the guards”—she gestured in their direction irritably—“I have every right to listen. Our fearsome protectors, who I might point out are perfectly healthy full-grown men, have been trading tributes to her virtues. By virtues they don’t mean her breasts or any of her lovely curves, but her sweet temper, her patience, her calling to the cloister, for goodness’ sake. Did she breathe a word to you about this sudden inclination to devote herself to the nunnery?” Without waiting for an answer, Elizabeth reined in her mount and glared at him. “They go on and on about how flawless she is and not one of them says a word about tupping her.”
Gibraltar laughed as he drew his stallion to a halt beside her mare.
“How dare you think this is funny?”
Gibraltar shook his head, his eyes sparkling. Only Elizabeth would take offense that men didn’t talk about seducing their only daughter.
“Gibraltar, I must ask you to be serious for a moment. Jillian is twenty-one years old and not one man has seriously tried to court her. I vow she’s the most exquisite lass in all of Scotland, and men walk quietly worshipful circles around her. Do something, Gibraltar. I’m getting worried.”
His smile faded. Elizabeth was right. It was no longer a laughing matter. Gibraltar had reached that conclusion himself. It wasn’t fair to let Elizabeth continue worrying when he’d taken action that would soon put both their fears to rest. “I’ve already taken care of it, Elizabeth.”
“What do you mean? What have you done this time?”
Gibraltar studied her intently. At the moment he wasn’t completely certain which would upset Elizabeth more: continued worry over their daughter’s unwed state, or the details of what he’d done without consulting her. A uniquely masculine moment of reflection convinced him she would be dazzled by his ingenuity. “I’ve arranged for three men to attend Caithness in our absence, Elizabeth. By the time we return, either Jillian will have chosen one of them, or one of them will have chosen her. They are not the kind of men to give up in the face of a wee bit of resistance. Nor are they the kind of men to fall for her ‘nunnery stories.’”
Elizabeth’s horrified expression deflated his smug pose. “One of them will choose her? Are you saying that one of these men you’ve selected might compromise her if she doesn’t choose?”
“Seduce, Elizabeth, not compromise,” Gibraltar protested. “They wouldn’t ruin her. They’re all honorable, respectable lairds.” His voice deepened persuasively. “I selected these three based in part on the fact that they’re also all very … er”—he searched for a word innocuous enough that it wouldn’t alarm his wife, because the men he’d chosen could be patently alarming—“… masculine men.” His perfunctory nod was intended to soothe her concerns. It failed. “Exactly what Jillian needs,” he assured her.
“Masculine! You mean randy inveterate blackguards! Probably domineering and ruthless, to boot. Don’t prevaricate with me, Gibraltar!”
Gibraltar sighed gustily, any hope of subtle persuasion debunked. “Do you have a better idea, Elizabeth? Frankly, I think the problem is that Jillian has never met a man who wasn’t intimidated by her. I guarantee you not one of the men I’ve invited will be even remotely intimidated. Captivated? Yes. Intrigued? Yes. Ruthlessly persistent? Yes. Precisely what a Sacheron woman needs. A man who is man enough to do something about it.”