"'Tisthe dress of Highlanders, which we are rumored to be," Rebbie said dryly.
"'Tisthe dress of peasants and barbarians. Not earls."
"You're insulting your host. Lachlan is certainly no peasant or barbarian."
"Never mind that. You'll be lucky ifyouhaven't insulted the lady's father."
"I don't give a damn," Rebbie grumbled, low.
"Well, you'd best because the contract has been signed."
"What! Are you mad?" Rebbie demanded. "Last time I saw you, you agreed that we would talk before you signed any contract, and I would choose my own bride."
"You will never choose," his father said in a calm, wise manner that only grated onRebbie'snerves.
"I will. When I meet the right lady, I will know. Then, I will choose."
His father shook his head doubtfully and gave a faint grin.
Rebbie ground his teeth.
"You haven't even met Lady Elena yet. She may be the one you wish to choose."
Rebbie narrowed his eyes. "And if she isn't? What if we don't suit at all and you've already signed a damnable contract?"
"Worry about that when the time comes. As for now, why don't you simply meet her, then we can discuss how youfeelabout her."
Rebbie frowned, not liking in the least how his father had said that, as if Rebbie were a sensitive milksop. He might have been raised to privilege, but naught about him was soft. He'd survived plenty of battles and endured the hardships of war. But there was no way in hades he was marrying just any lady.
He was not overly choosy.'Twassimply that he'd watched three of his friends wed the ideal women for them, and he wasn't prepared to settle for anything less. He knew marriage for an earl was a business arrangement, but did it have to be wholly business? He had to be attracted to the lass and be partial to some of her qualities. And, of course, he wanted her to like him, too. What if the young lady couldn't stand the sight of him? What a miserable life that would be for both of them.
"Come inside and we'll await her return. Meet her and you will see she is perfect for you. I promise you, son." His father went up the steps and opened the door.
"Contract or nay, I make the final decision," Rebbie said.
Themarquessreleased a long breath. "Very well. God's bones. I should not have spoiled you when you were a lad."
"You didn't, believe me."
"Ha! When did you ever want for anything?"
What hewantedwas to live his life in peace and to make his own decisions.
A few minutes after they rejoined Barclay near the fireplace, the guards opened the entry door and several women entered, five to be exact. Rebbie stood with Lachlan off to the side.
Rebbie'sstomach knotted. "Damnation," he muttered. He did not want to meet any prospective brides today.
Lachlan let loose a soft chuckle. "Remember the hell you gave me when I first married Angelique?" he asked too low for anyone else to hear. "I'm going to enjoy this greatly."
Rebbie glared at him. "I appreciate the support," he said dryly.
Lachlan snorted.
A young lady with pale, flaxen hair broke away from the group of women, most of them wearing cloaks, and came forward.
"Elena!" Barclay strode to her and took his daughter's hands. "I'm so glad you're back, my dear. Your betrothed has arrived."
"Indeed?" Her naïve gaze darted around the hall, sliding past Rebbie and returned to her father. "Where is he?"
