open doorway, her face a mask of absolute horror. “Oh, Bess, how could you?”
Before Elizabeth could come up with any sensible response, Manfred and Titus arrived, with Turnbull, no doubt alerted by the sound of Bella’s screams.
“What happened?” grunted Manfred, clearly out of breath from having come running.
“I think it’s fairly evident what has happened here,” Isabella said with a murderous glare to the Scotsman. “Mr. MacKinnon has ravished my sister.”
Manfred sucked in his stomach.
Titus actually growled.
Behind them, the innkeeper was shaking his head in disbelief. “Och, but I warned you, MacKinnon.”
“This is a mistake. Nothing happened. I would remember if I had ravished someone last night.”
Isabella remained unmoved. “Your declaration doesn’t carry much conviction, Mr. MacKinnon, in theface of the fact that you are lying in my sister’s bed completely unclothed.”
“Bella,” Elizabeth said, “what he says is true. We were talking and we simply fell asleep. That is the whole of it. Nothing untoward happened—truly. I’m almost certain.”
“ Almost certain? Oh, that reassures me, Elizabeth. That is a feeble explanation, even for you. As for you, sir, I believed you a gentleman. How dare you take advantage of an innocent girl?”
“Innocent?”
“Yes, innocent!” She advanced into the room, hands fisted. “Do you mean to suggest that my sister was—had been—” She came to stand at the side of the bed, drew back her fist, and clouted him hard on the head.
“Isabella!”
“Don’t you ‘Isabella’ me! Do you have any idea of the enormity of the blunder you have just made?”
“Bella . . .”
“Do you know who our father is, Mr. MacKinnon?”
“Bella, no. Don’t . . .”
“I’ll tell you who he is, sir. Our father is Alaric Henry Sinclair Fortunatus Drayton, the fifth Duke of Sudeleigh in Northumberland, and Elizabeth is the eldest of his children—and, I might add, his favorite.”
“Bella, that isn’t true.”
“Oh, shush, Bess! We all know he worships you.” Isabella railed at Douglas. “My father is a very powerful man. He’ll have your head for this, you know.” She glanced down at the bedcovers which had slipped to his waist. “As well as any other pertinent parts of you.”
Sitting on the bed, Elizabeth could but stare, stillhoping she was dreaming this whole horrible debacle. Who was this . . . this virago posing as her sister? Quiet, undemanding, sweet Isabella had never struck anyone or anything in her life. She’d never given her mare, Sugar, more than a soft nudge with her heel to urge her to go, and when Caro’s mongrel puppy had once chewed through her favorite pair of dancing slippers, Bella had simply ruffled the dog’s fur and scolded him as she would an infant.
But now . . . ? Elizabeth was utterly struck dumb at the sight of her sister as she paced the room, her skirts whisking against the floorboards as she alternately wrung her hands and waved her fist at the Scotsman.
“How are we going to explain this to Father?” Isabella said now, more to herself than anyone else in the room. The others simply stood watching her. And waiting. Finally she stopped, her face registering an idea. “I know what we will do.”
Elizabeth blinked. “You do?”
“Yes. It’s a bit on the absurd side, but I begin to think it is the only solution. Yes, it is. I’m certain of it.” She turned. “You and Mr. MacKinnon will marry.”
“Marry? Me to him? Bella, have you completely lost your senses?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, marry, and no, I haven’t lost my senses. It shan’t be difficult at all. We’re in Scotland. We need no crying of the banns, no special license. Heavens, from what I understand, you can have it done by the local blacksmith before breakfast. And that is precisely what we will do, but we’ll have it done after breakfast. You really must eat something. Then we’ll return to Drayton Hall having done
Before Elizabeth could come up with any sensible response, Manfred and Titus arrived, with Turnbull, no doubt alerted by the sound of Bella’s screams.
“What happened?” grunted Manfred, clearly out of breath from having come running.
“I think it’s fairly evident what has happened here,” Isabella said with a murderous glare to the Scotsman. “Mr. MacKinnon has ravished my sister.”
Manfred sucked in his stomach.
Titus actually growled.
Behind them, the innkeeper was shaking his head in disbelief. “Och, but I warned you, MacKinnon.”
“This is a mistake. Nothing happened. I would remember if I had ravished someone last night.”
Isabella remained unmoved. “Your declaration doesn’t carry much conviction, Mr. MacKinnon, in theface of the fact that you are lying in my sister’s bed completely unclothed.”
“Bella,” Elizabeth said, “what he says is true. We were talking and we simply fell asleep. That is the whole of it. Nothing untoward happened—truly. I’m almost certain.”
“ Almost certain? Oh, that reassures me, Elizabeth. That is a feeble explanation, even for you. As for you, sir, I believed you a gentleman. How dare you take advantage of an innocent girl?”
“Innocent?”
“Yes, innocent!” She advanced into the room, hands fisted. “Do you mean to suggest that my sister was—had been—” She came to stand at the side of the bed, drew back her fist, and clouted him hard on the head.
“Isabella!”
“Don’t you ‘Isabella’ me! Do you have any idea of the enormity of the blunder you have just made?”
“Bella . . .”
“Do you know who our father is, Mr. MacKinnon?”
“Bella, no. Don’t . . .”
“I’ll tell you who he is, sir. Our father is Alaric Henry Sinclair Fortunatus Drayton, the fifth Duke of Sudeleigh in Northumberland, and Elizabeth is the eldest of his children—and, I might add, his favorite.”
“Bella, that isn’t true.”
“Oh, shush, Bess! We all know he worships you.” Isabella railed at Douglas. “My father is a very powerful man. He’ll have your head for this, you know.” She glanced down at the bedcovers which had slipped to his waist. “As well as any other pertinent parts of you.”
Sitting on the bed, Elizabeth could but stare, stillhoping she was dreaming this whole horrible debacle. Who was this . . . this virago posing as her sister? Quiet, undemanding, sweet Isabella had never struck anyone or anything in her life. She’d never given her mare, Sugar, more than a soft nudge with her heel to urge her to go, and when Caro’s mongrel puppy had once chewed through her favorite pair of dancing slippers, Bella had simply ruffled the dog’s fur and scolded him as she would an infant.
But now . . . ? Elizabeth was utterly struck dumb at the sight of her sister as she paced the room, her skirts whisking against the floorboards as she alternately wrung her hands and waved her fist at the Scotsman.
“How are we going to explain this to Father?” Isabella said now, more to herself than anyone else in the room. The others simply stood watching her. And waiting. Finally she stopped, her face registering an idea. “I know what we will do.”
Elizabeth blinked. “You do?”
“Yes. It’s a bit on the absurd side, but I begin to think it is the only solution. Yes, it is. I’m certain of it.” She turned. “You and Mr. MacKinnon will marry.”
“Marry? Me to him? Bella, have you completely lost your senses?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, marry, and no, I haven’t lost my senses. It shan’t be difficult at all. We’re in Scotland. We need no crying of the banns, no special license. Heavens, from what I understand, you can have it done by the local blacksmith before breakfast. And that is precisely what we will do, but we’ll have it done after breakfast. You really must eat something. Then we’ll return to Drayton Hall having done
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