Page 29 of Devil Black

“Aye so, but I withdraw then, from the search. ’Tis a lost cause.”

“Do as you will,” MacNab spat at him. “But if I find you had a hand in this, MacRae, the King himself will hear of it!”

“I?” Dougal gave him his best smile. “Have I not been out here helping to search for this Catherine Maitland, like any worthy neighbor?”

“I trust not your protestations of blamelessness, MacRae. This is a tender, young, innocent maid for whom we search—shame to any who takes advantage of that.”

The words made Dougal’s face—and heart—darken. MacNab dared speak to him about the protection of tender innocence? Aye, and the man deserved to be flayed for his hypocrisy.

Riding home with Lachlan at his side, Dougal was silent.

“So,” said Lachy at last, obviously enjoying himself as always, “when will the ruse end?”

“Eh?”

“When will you reveal the existence of your new wife, along with her identity?”

The same question Isobel had asked.

“Soon.” He wanted to flaunt her in MacNab’s face, wanted MacNab to know this meant partial settlement of that old debt. And he wanted MacNab to see that his wife wanted to be with him. Even if it meant war.

Lachlan gave him a sharp look. “You do realize it will bring a load of trouble?”

“I am eager for trouble, Lachy. I have longed these years for a good, fair battle. The devil can bring justice, you ken, and I mean to bring it to MacNab.”

“Aye. But Randal has the King in his pocket, do not forget.”

“Oh, I will not forget.” Dougal rubbed the scar on his cheek. “His power served him well once, but I was a young man then, and too impetuous for my own good.”

“You are still too impetuous. Will you invite me to dinner this night, so I might make your wife’s acquaintance?”

“You have made her acquaintance—out on the road, and at our wedding, as well.”

“Aye, but I want a chance to speak with her. I am curious about the woman who agreed to take you on.”

Dougal glared at his friend. “You will treat her respectfully, mind. None of your insolent tricks.”

“Tricks? Me?” Lachy widened his eyes. “I know not of what you speak.”

Dougal returned the look in full. “You have a talent for charming the ladies.”

“Are you worried, my Laird, about retaining your wife’s affections? And does that not smack of a budding attachment?”

“I have no illusions, Lachy, about my wife’s affections. She has thrown in her lot wi’ me—to her own benefit, did she but know it. I would not wish to see even a half-Englishwoman in MacNab’s hands.”

“No.” Lachlan abruptly sobered. “Half English?”

“She tells me her mother was Scots.”

“And how goes she between the sheets? Sweetly?”

“We will not speak of that.”

“Aye, but, Dougal, you are the Devil Black—your exploits round the district are well recounted. Besides, do I not tell you about the ladies I entertain?”

“Aye, often, in nauseating detail. This is different. She is my wife.”

“Aye, so?” Lachlan lifted his brows. “And can you imagine I would so much as look at another woman, with your sister in the same room?”