Aulay scowled at his comments. “Ma and Da left ye coin and a bit o’ land just like they did our siblings. Ye ken it’s waiting fer ye the minute ye ask fer it.”
“Aye, but a bit o’ coin and land is no’ a home to bring a wife to,” Geordie pointed out with exasperation.
“That’s the beauty o’ it,” Aulay said with a grin. “When they got the responses from the interested lairds, they then wrote back and gave terms. Only the lairds who were willing to make one o’ ye their heir and name ye the next laird were invited to bring their daughters fer ye to meet.”
“And the fathers of all those women in the keep were willing?” he asked with disbelief.
“Geordie, we are Buchanans, a strong and proud clan, but now add that Niels and Edith are laird and lady o’er the Drummonds, Saidh and her Greer are laird and lady o’ MacDonnell, Conran and Evina are laird and lady o’ the Macleans, and Dougall and his Murine are not only laird and lady o’ Carmichael here in Scotland, but also Danvries in England . . .” He paused briefly to let that sink in and then added, “And that does no’ even include the Sinclairs and the MacKays, who are friends to us all, or Evina’s cousin, Gavin, who is like a brother and son to her all at once and is now laird of the MacLeods. Any one o’ them would certainly call up their men to help if any o’ us needed aid.” He pointed out, “Not only do we now hold considerable influence, we would have no less than eight strong and wealthy clans at our back if under attack.”
“Aye,” Acair said now. “Many would like to join our circle and enjoy that kind of safety. Especially men who were no’ gifted with male heirs and seek to protect their daughters and lands from greedy neighbors who might like to take either or both by force.”
Geordie shook his head. When put like that he could see why the fathers were interested in arranging a marriage. Still . . . “Ye canno’ mean to tell me that the women did all this writing back and forth in that one weekend?”
“Nay. They sent the first messages that weekend, and then Jetta wrote the other women every time she got a response and they wrote back with suggestions about what to do next, and so on.” He raised his eyebrows. “Have ye no’ noticed I’ve had to send one o’ me men out almost every damned day for the last couple o’ months with messages from Jetta to the various women?”
Geordie had noticed that before he left, but had just thought it nice that Jetta was getting along so well with all of the women. Sighing, he shook his head. “I’d like to say it was kind o’ Jetta and the others to go to all this trouble . . .”
“But?” Aulay prodded when he paused.
“But I do no’ want to marry yet,” he said simply.
“Geordie, ye’re nine and twenty years old now,” Aulay pointed out.
“Aye, but I have been so busy helping everyone else . . . First we were rushing this way and that for Murine and Dougall, and then Edith and Niels, and then . . .” He grimaced. “And I’ve spent the last six weeks helping Evina get Gavin set up at MacLeod.”
“How did that go, by the by?” Aulay asked now.
“Good,” Geordie assured him. “The uncle ran the place into the ground with his gambling and such, so the people were more than glad to welcome Gavin as their proper laird. I think the thyftbote Evina’s father had taken for Gavin in exchange for his silence on what Garret MacLeod did to Lady MacLeod helped. It should go a long way toward repairing the damage the uncle did. And Evina and Conran are going to help young Gavin find his feet as laird.”
Aulay nodded, and then placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed until Geordie met his gaze. “I ken ye’ve spent a lot of time the last several years helping the family, and I’m sure ye probably feel ye’ve lost out on some time to sow yer wild oats. I’m no’ insisting ye marry right away. But it’ll no’ hurt to take a gander at the women and see if any o’ them interest ye. Ye could always agree to a contract stipulating the wedding does no’ take place for six months, or even a year from now, so ye have some time to sow those oats,” he said, and then pointed out, “This is a golden opportunity fer ye, Geordie. Do ye choose any one o’ the women at Buchanan just now, ye’d no’ just be gaining a wife, but a keep and people o’ yer own.”
“Aye,” Geordie murmured, and then frowned and asked, “How far away is Innes?”
Aulay’s eyebrows rose with surprise, but he answered, “About as far away as MacDonnell, but ’tis northeast rather than straight north.”
Geordie nodded thoughtfully.
“I did no’ ken ye knew the Inneses,” Aulay said after a moment.
“Oh, I do no’,” he said, tugging his shirt off now, and tossing it to lie on his plaid.
“But when I said the Innes lasses slept in yer room last night, ye mentioned Dwyn,” he pointed out with confusion.
“Nay. I do no’ ken her,” he assured him firmly.
“Ah, Dwyn,” Acair sighed from Geordie’s other side as he removed his own plaid. “Now there’s a good wee lass with a fine pair o’ bosoms to keep a man warm at night.”
Geordie scowled at his uncle, but his words had brought up those bosoms in his mind. Dear God, when he’d looked down after her sisters had left the area, and seen her beautiful breasts pushing out of her gown above his arm . . . He swallowed as he recalled the sight. His mouth filling now with saliva as it had then, and his tongue tingling at the thought of rasping over the sweet nubs of her dusky nipples and sucking them into his mouth. Geordie still wasn’t sure how he’d stopped himself from simply closing his hands over each full globe and kneading her sweet flesh. But he had.
Nothing could have stopped him from kissing her though, and damned if Dwyn hadn’t kissed him back. The lass had been awkward at first, obviously unskilled, but she’d learned quickly, and the soft mewls and moans of pleasure she’d given him from just kissing had nearly pushed him into doing much more. When Geordie had started thinking about how to get her out of that tree without having to stop their kissing, so that he could tear her gown away, lay her in the grass and drive himself into her welcoming heat, he’d known it was time to put an end to things and get the hell away from her. He’d done that so abruptly . . . He hadn’t even stayed to help her down from the tree, he realized with a frown.
“Well, ye say ye do no’ ken her, but ’tis looking like ye want to,” Aulay said dryly.
Geordie glanced at him with confusion, and then followed his gaze down to his groin where his cock was up, and waving around with excitement at the thoughts that had just been running through his mind. Cursing, he turned and strode into the icy water of the loch, then dove under the surface. Dwyn wasn’t someone he could sow his oats with . . . but he wished she was.
“Well, now,” Acair drawled as they watched Geordie swim away from shore. “Despite his claiming he’s no’ ready to marry yet, I’m thinking our boyo might be interested in wee Dwyn.”
“Aye,” Aulay agreed dryly. “So ye might want to refrain from commenting on her fine bosoms again. He did no’ look pleased when ye mentioned them.”