“I am fine,” Niall interrupted. “Doona fash.”
“But she’s still aneejit,” Rauri said.
“And daft,” Ewan added.
Their mother held up a hand. “Enough.”
They subsided into silence, but the looks the three gave each told Annie their conversation would continue once out of earshot of their mother.
“See what ye are missing?” one of the men said to Niall.
“’Tis nae wonder Alasdair made off for London and Aidan followed ye to Glasgow,” another said. “’Tis the only way to get a bit of peace and quiet.”
The brothers all laughed and Margaret looked furious, although she held her tongue. Annie had a sudden empathy for the girl. She looked to be a few years older than Caitlin and Caylin, but quite a bit younger than herself. It couldn’t be easy dealing with ten brothers. Especially if they were all as obstinate as Niall, who shouldn’t be putting a lot of weight on his leg for a long period of time. Not that telling him that—again—would do any good. She stepped forward.
“Margaret? I am Annie Ferguson.” Seven pairs of male eyes suddenly focused their attention on her. Laughter turned to inquisitive expressions as they studied her. She suddenly was acutely aware that the dress Jillian had brought up to her last night was a bit too snug in the bodice.
“And who are ye, Annie Ferguson?” one of the men who had golden eyes the color of a wolf’s asked. “There are nae Fergusons for miles around.”
“I am from Glasgow.”
The wolf-like look intensified, as though he were closing in on prey. “Glasgow? Did ye come with Niall, then?”
“Aye, she did, Lachlan,” Niall said and came to stand by her side. “The lass was in danger.”
“Probably from ye,” a brother with bright blue eyes said.
“Back off, Braden.” Niall practically growled the words.
Knowing smirks appeared on the other brothers’ faces. Annie didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. She wasn’t about to let these men get any ideas. She certainly didn’t want Ian thinking her of loose morals, especially if he’d talked to the twins after dinner last night. “Niall is my guardian,” she blurted out.
“Yourguardian?” another, whose hazel eyes were only a little less wolfish than his brother’s, questioned, while all of them laughed. He turned to Niall. “I have nae heard ye ever called that before. Is it a word the lasses use in Glasgow to—”
“Shut your mouth, Gavin.”
“I think ye are making our brother mad,” one of the auburn-haired twins said.
“’Tis a pity we cannae have a good brawl about it,” the other one added.
Niall glared at both of them. “Ye will have your brawl as soon as my leg mends in a day or two.”
“A day or two?” Annie put her hands on her hips. “Ye are nae going to be brawling in a day or two.”
“Ah! A feisty one!” Braden said. “’Tis the type ye like, is it nae?”
Gavin nodded. “I will wager there is an interesting story to be told here.”
“Aye. Do tell.” Lachlan moved a step closer and Annie had the distinct impression she really was his prey.
Niall looked about ready to get into fisticuffs regardless of his wound. Annie remembered something her father had once told her about picking her battles. This was not going to be one of them. She held out her hand to Margaret.
“Would ye like to come with me inside?”
Margaret grinned at her, a knowing look in her eyes. “Aye, I would.”
****
Niall watched his sister and Annie leave with mixed emotions. Part of him was glad Annie had been wise enough to extricate herself from the web of interrogation his brothers were weaving around her, but the other part of him wasn’t sure that pairing off with Margaret was any better. From the conspiratorial exchange of glances, Annie and his sister were probably well on their way to becoming allies, which did not bode well.
