Read Online Rogue with a Brogue by Suzanne Enoch - Free Book Online Page A

Glengask stood greeting the pretty blond woman she knew to be Lady Charlotte Hanover. Mary didn’t know her well—she was four years younger than the earl’s daughter, after all—but to marry Lord Glengask, the chief of clan MacLawry, seemed exceedingly daunting.
    Nor were they alone in the box. Charlotte’s parents, Lord and Lady Hest, had joined them, and so had the other daughter, Jane. Next to her sat Lady Rowena MacLawry, moving her hands animatedly as she chatted about something with the fourth young lady present. Mary frowned. With her dark hair and pale skin, there was no mistaking Lady Deirdre Stewart. Her father, Lord Allen, was there, as well, speaking with Glengask. What were the Stewarts doing with the MacLawrys? That thought, though, vanished as he left the gloom at the back of the box. Arran MacLawry.
    Where his brother had a certain mountainous presence, Arran seemed more like a wolf than a lion—sharp, predatory, and alert for weakness. Except that he’d been charming and clever at the masked ball and even this morning, after he’d learned who she was. Yes, she was wary in his presence, but if she’d been truly frightened, truly concerned for her safety, she would have made her entire family aware of his activities. And she never would have agreed to meet him tomorrow.
    At that moment he turned, meeting her gaze. From across the theater she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, though she knew them to be a light blue. Nor could she see any details of his expression, but a warm shiver ran down her spine, regardless. If he’d been other than a MacLawry, she would have called herself intrigued, and interested.
    â€œOh, my goodness,” Liz whispered from beside her, shaking her out of her thoughts. “Lord Glengask. And he’s seen you, I think. Lord Arran has, I mean.”
    â€œWell, he’s not likely to attack from over there,” Mary returned, deliberately and with some difficulty turning her gaze toward the stage at the front of the large room. Quite likely it was only the fact that she’d been ordered to stay away from him that left her so conscious of his presence. It made him a dangerous rogue, and what woman wouldn’t notice someone like that gazing at her? Or inviting her to luncheon?
    â€œThe Stewarts, eh?” her father muttered from behind her. “So the MacLawrys don’t have any more faith in the truce than I do.”
    â€œThe Stewarts must be desperate for MacLawry resources if they’re willing to hand their prettiest gem over to Glengask’s brother,” an additional voice said from behind Mary, and with a carefully hidden scowl she turned to look. The son of Malcolm MacAllister stood there shaking hands with her father and Mr. Bell, and complimenting the two mamas. Oh, dear.
    â€œThank you for inviting me tonight, Fendarrow,” Roderick MacAllister said warmly.
    Then she noticed the man standing slightly behind him, and her frown deepened. Charles Calder, the son of her father’s youngest sister, smiled at her as well, though the expression didn’t quite fit his face.
    That wasn’t her cousin’s fault, she supposed, since Charles had simply been born narrow. Narrow shoulders, lidded eyes, thin lips—they’d all called him Otter until he’d turned sixteen and bloodied his older brother Adam’s nose over it. Which made him narrow-minded, as well. Still, if he’d wanted to distance himself from the nickname, he likely should stop slicking back his straight, black hair and wearing nothing but black clothing.
    â€œYou know you’re always welcome to join us, Roderick,” her father returned. Lord Fendarrow glanced at her, his smile too rushed. “I know you enjoy a good Hamlet, so we’ve saved you a front row seat.”
    So that was why her father had suggested she would be able to see better from the middle seat of the three in the front row. So