by Vella, Wendy
“So this is where Bran is hiding.”
“He likes the other dogs, and Uncle Wolf,” Luke said. “All animals like him.”
“So many people.” Rory looked about. Most were huddled into warm clothes and wrapped in scarves and hats, but all looked happy enough to be outside on a bleak day.
“Only those foolish enough to live in this village understand the need for a fair in winter,” Max muttered, opening the door and climbing down. “My family appear to be part of that.”
“Keep your arm in that sling, Rory. It will stop you straining your shoulder,” Essie said, giving him a look that he knew by now meant business.
“Yes, Essie.”
“Max speaks in that particular tone, then does as he wishes.” She patted his cheek and stepped down behind her excited son, leaving him to follow.
He wasn’t used to people caring, but she did… and possibly so did his brother, but he was still coming to terms with that.
Rory stood beside the carriage and simply took in the sight before him. He imagined the knights in armor who had stood just as he was upon returning from a battle, clunking over the well-worn floors inside those stone walls.
“Impressive, isn’t it.”
“Extremely,” he said as Max joined him.
Everywhere he looked he saw history… his history.
“Hard to believe we’re part of this isn’t it?”
“Very much so.”
Rory sniffed, and detected mulled wine with its spices, and the taste of sugar in the air.
“Our father lived here. Apparently he was something of a beast. Mean with his money, and evil to those closest to him. Makes a son glad he never became acquainted with the man.”
“You can see why he was drawn to our mother then.”
“Yes, they were a match made in hell.”
Rory grunted his agreement.
“There are many legends surrounding the Sinclairs and the Ravens; one day I’ll tell you some of them, but for now let us get inside out of the cold as you are still—”
“If you say weak again, I’ll not be responsible for my actions,” Rory said. “I can walk about stalls and not fall flat on my face, Max.”
He felt his brother’s eyes on him.
“What?”
“You’ve not said my name once since you arrived.”
“A slip that I will make sure not to repeat,” Rory said, then started walking. Max fell in beside him. “You have no need to keep me company.”
“Maybe I like your company. It’s the constant abuse, it grows on a person. Plus, I need to introduce you to those you have yet to meet.”
“I do not abuse you constantly.”
“Is this you being nice then?”
Rory ignored the question. “Right. Let’s get this done. Introduce me to them, and I can leave, and everyone will be happy.”
“You are not facing a firing squad, brother, and you leaving will make no one happy.”
He didn’t reply to that. The smell of roasting meat lured him, and it was there he saw the man they called Wolf. Beside him sat a woman with red hair and a huge belly that suggested her babe would arrive soon.
“Rose,” Max said, helping her rise. Wolf took the other side. She hugged Max hard before looking at Rory. “This is your brother.”
Tears leaked from her eyes as she came forward, and Rory swallowed several times as his own started to itch. Digging his toes into his boots, he made himself stand still. She didn’t kiss him or grab his hand, she simply reached up and cupped his cheek.
“Hello, brother.”
“H-hello.” She spoke with a Scottish brogue.
“I am so pleased to meet you.” She then stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close.
Her belly got in the way, but she held on until the resistance seeped from his body. Rory lowered his head and rested his cheek beside hers. He was not made of stone, and there was only so much he could resist, and this it seemed had been his limit.
He knew there were others nearby of this strange Sinclair and Raven clan watching him. He felt their eyes, but for now he closed his and held this sister who was new to him. She was vulnerable and emotional, and the hell of it was, so was he.
“Is this my other brother?”
Rory lifted his head and gave Rose’s hand a final squeeze as he turned to look at the young girl who’d drawn near. “James has two full sisters, Rose and Samantha, and two half brothers, me and you, and two half sisters, Emily and Madeline,” Max had told him. “They are also our brothers and sisters.” This, he knew, was Samantha. She had blue eyes and a sweet, open face. Wrapped up like everyone else in a thick coat and bonnet, she was flanked by James and Emily.
“Hello.” She rushed at him. “I’m Samantha.” Wrapping her arms around him as Rose had, but not as gently, she hugged him hard. “I love brothers, they’re wonderful.”
“Are they?” He managed patting her back.
“They are, and I have a great many, as the Sinclairs are my brothers also.” She released him with a wide smile. “I have sisters and brothers, where once I was alone.” She laughed and ran away.
“Our father did not let her leave the castle or have friends,” Max said. “There is a great deal to explain about the past.”
Overwhelmed, Rory simply nodded.
“Come, Rory.” Emily took his and Rose’s hands, and he couldn’t say no, so found himself walking with them away from his brothers.
“Max is so happy to have you here,” Rose said.
“Yes, as is James, and of course all of us,” Emily added.
“I must go back to France. I have a sister there.”
“Of course. But surely she would want to come here and see us?”
He knew Rose’s words were the truth. Maddie would love to be part of this.
“Bring her here, we would love to meet her.”
“I will speak with her.”
And for now that had to please them, as he wasn’t sure yet that he wanted to come back to this.
He ate whatever they handed him and admired the blanket Rose purchased. They talked of their lives before finding family, and he was shocked at the hardship they’d endured.
“So you see, like for you, life has not always been what we’d hoped,” Rose said gently. “Come, we shall see how Kate and Eden are faring in the kissing booths.” She tugged him to the right.
“I beg your pardon?” Rory didn’t like the prospect of strange men kissing Kate.
“They pay for one kiss. Many like to kiss a duchess, and it brings in money for the village,” Emily said.
“And Kate is there?”
“She has volunteered. There are a few noblemen who have come from the surrounding area. They would like to kiss Kate, and pay handsomely for it,” Emily said, patting his arm as if she’d been doing just that for many years.
“The duchess has a husband,” he pointed out.
“But she is the Duchess of Raven, it is expected of her. Besides, it is only a peck on the cheek, and all money this year goes to educating the children of Crunston Cliff.”
Jealousy was the only word for what Rory was feeling. He did not want strange men kissing Kate, even on the cheek for a good cause. It was that simple.
“Will you stay and share Christmas Day and the wedding with us tomorrow, Rory?” Emily asked.
“Ahh, of course,” he said when his sisters looked up at him. “I think you need to have a rest, Rose.” She looked ready to burst and had dark smudges beneath her eyes which suggested she’d not slept well. He saw a seat up ahead and made for it. Lowering her into it, he said, “I shall return shortly.”
Rory had taken two steps away from his sisters when something stopped him. Turning, he looked at Emily and Rose. “It is… very nice to spend time with you both.”
“And spending time with you has brought us joy also, brother,” Rose said.
He walked away then with emotion choking him. He had to acknowl
edge, at least to himself, that leaving here would be difficult now.
“Hello.” A young girl stepped into his path. She looked excited about something. “I am Isabella.”
“Hello, Isabella.” Rory bowed.
“You’re my uncle Rory.”
“Am I?”
“My father is your brother. He’s a duke.”
“Well then, I believe you are right.”
“Come, I’m going to take Kate some fudge, as she is in the kissing booth and she told me it’s quite hard work, so she’ll want nourishment.”
A hand slipped into his before he could stop it and pulled more emotion out of him. How was he to combat this? This onslaught of feeling. He didn’t need to belong anywhere… did he?
Chapter Twelve
“Is your arm sore?” Isabella asked him.
“No, it aches sometimes but is much better, thank you.”
“I’m sorry it hurts. I cut my finger once and cried. Did you cry?”
“Yes, but I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone that.”
She snuffled. “I like secrets.”
“I bet.”
“There are not many in a family as large as ours.”
“I can imagine.”
She chatted as they walked and gave him names for people she knew as they passed, and then there she was. Kate Sinclair with her beautiful eyes.
“That’s Mrs. Radcliff. She’s been in the kissing booth for many years, Papa told me. He thinks she’s close to one hundred years old now.”
Looking at the other booths, he found the Duchess of Raven and another… presumably Mrs. Radcliff.
The woman’s face looked like a worn leather boot. Winkles from forehead to chin, and he’d lay good odds on her having no teeth in that mouth, as it seemed to fold in on itself. Her shoulders were stooped, and around them lay a thick shawl.
“She raises a lot of money each year for the local families.”
“Really?”
“Uncle Dev said the men are too scared not to go to her booth as she may turn them into frogs.”
“How is she supposed to do that?” Rory asked.
“She knows everything, and Uncle Dev said he wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t a witch.”
Rory shot a look left and right to see if anyone had heard the little girl. No one appeared to be listening.
“I’m not sure it’s right to call someone a witch… ah, in that context at least, Isabella.”
“The last witch was burned in 1684, Uncle Rory.”
“Oh… well then.”
“God’s blood, Jimmy Tait, if you kiss your girl like that it’s hardly surprising she’s a sour countenance on her from sunup to sundown!”
All eyes turned to Mrs. Radcliff. She was speaking to the man before her.
“It’s a peck on the cheek, boy, you’ve no need to open your mouth so wide. It’s like kissing a codfish.”
Jimmy Tait was now as red as a beet, and everyone nearby was laughing.
“Line up.”
“Pardon?” He looked down at Isabella.
“We must line up to give Kate her fudge. You can kiss her.”
“Well, you can certainly line up. I’ll wait.”
“Don’t you want to kiss her?”
More than you can imagine.
“There are surely enough men here already waiting to kiss her. She doesn’t need more.”
Isabella ignored him and tugged them into the line, then proceeded to explain in detail about how annoying her siblings and younger cousins were.
“Meredith breaks my things.”
“Then put them somewhere she can’t reach.” Rory watched as Kate leaned forward so the next man could kiss her. He put both hands on her cheeks. Surely that was far too intimate for a peck on the cheek? She should not be allowing that. Where was her brother? Rory looked for Wolf.
“She climbs up to get them.” Isabella was swinging his hand now.
“Get someone to make you a large box and put a lock on it.” Rory still had his eyes on Kate. The man was saying something to her now, and Kate was shaking her head.
“’Lo!”
Isabella sighed as he looked down into the face of a little girl who would break a thousand hearts with her smile.
“Meredith, I presume?”
She nodded, then held out her arms.
“He’s injured, Meredith, he can’t lift you,” Isabella said in a superior tone.
Tears filled the little girl’s eyes. Rory quickly bent and lifted her with his good arm.
“She’s spoiled.” Isabella leaned on him, not sounding terribly worried about that fact, which suggested to Rory she was also.
Isabella chatted, Meredith did the same. Rory made the appropriate noises and wondered how a man who did not collect people and avoided emotion had just spent time with his two sisters. He now had his niece leaning on him and her cousin in his arms. The hell of it was, he liked it. Loved that they looked at him with open and honest affection. Looked at him without fear.
He, the man others said was a cold-hearted bastard, was suddenly unraveling like Mrs. Radcliff’s shawl. Kate was now kissing another man.
“Do either of you know that man kissing Kate?”
The little girls looked. He wore a long overcoat, beneath which Rory could see polished black boots. He didn’t look like the other men, villagers; this one looked a great deal more prosperous.
“He’s Sir Spotty,” Isabella said so only Rory could hear.
“Pardon?”
“Daddy calls him that,” she added. “His name is Lord Scouty.”
“Why is he called Sir Spotty?”
“He has one on his nose.”
“Nose!” Meredith squealed.
“A mole,” Isabella added with a little snigger.
Children, Rory had noted, often heard a great deal more than adults realized.
“Good day to you, Miss Sinclair.” Sir Spotty said in a pompous tone that carried a great distance and set Rory’s teeth on edge.
“Lord Scouty, how nice it is to see you, and here at the fair,” Kate said.
“I was passing and a local told me about it, and as I had business in the area I decided to call in.”
Rory wasn’t sure how he was passing, as Crunston Cliff was on the way to nowhere.
“Oh well, how kind of you to join us.”
Surely she wasn’t fooled; it was clear the man was there for other purposes. Moving slightly to the side, he saw Sir Spotty was looking smug. If Rory had to guess, he’d say the man was here to see Kate.
He hated him instantly.
“I don’t like him.”
“Who?” He looked down at Isabella, who was tugging his coat.
“Sir Spotty. He told me to move out of the way when I was buying Kate’s fudge, as he wanted some.”
“Did he now? That’s not very polite. Maybe I should give him a lesson in manners.”
“I think you should.”
He watched as the man took both of Kate’s hands in his and pulled her closer. Kate looked uncomfortable with the gesture. He was just about to intervene when another man did so.
“Here now, there’s no need to be handling Miss Sinclair. A quick kiss is all you get!” the man second in line declared. He had a shaved head and neck that was thicker than Rory’s thigh. This was followed by murmurs of agreement from the other men in the line behind Rory.
“Miss Sinclair and I are friends,” Sir Spotty said, turning to glare at the men behind him. Rory saw the mole then.
“See!” Isabella hissed.
“Don’t rightly care if you are or if you’re not, you’ll not be taking advantage of the situation,” bull neck said. “You’ll watch your hands and kiss her quickly, on the cheek, then move on.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sir Spotty did not look pleased. “You’ll not threaten me, your better.”
“Better, is it? I’m not thinking so. You still put your breeches on a leg a time like the rest of us; nothing specia
l in a title,” bull neck said, folding his arms. “Now hurry it along, it’s cold out here. Besides, I want a good seat for the contest.”
The raised voices had Isabella pressing into his leg and Meredith burrowing closer. Rory patted a head and held the little bundle in his arms closer. “It’s all right.”
“Problem?” The Duke of Raven arrived… his brother. Rory wondered if he’d ever get used to that.
“’Lo, Uncle James.”
“Is there a reason you made your uncle pick you up when his shoulder is sore, Meredith?”
She simply smiled and went willingly into her uncle’s arms.
“That man’s mean, Papa,” Isabella said, pointing to Sir Spotty.
James smiled at his daughter, who was still wrapped around Rory’s leg.
“Well then, we can’t have that. Move it along, Scouty, this is not a place for grandstanding.”
“Duke, I was merely pointing out—”
“I know what you were doing, and it’s not appreciated here. Now as I’ve stated, move it along.”
The peer walked away red-faced and uncomfortable. The murmuring in the line told Rory the other men were more than happy with James’s resolution to the conflict, especially as he took their word against one of his circle.
Kate looked flustered.
“We shall replace Miss Kate Sinclair with her sister, the soon-to-be-married Miss Sinclair, if that is all right with you all,” James said. “And the duchess will be replaced by Lady Sinclair. Mrs. Radcliff is happy to stay where she is,” James added, hiding his smile.
“But not before Uncle Rory kisses Kate, Papa. We’ve waited in the line for that,” Isabella said, much to Rory’s horror.
“No, I’m—”
“Of course then he must have his kiss,” James said.
“I’m sure I can—” Rory was interrupted by a prod in the back.
“Step along there, lad, no need to be shy. Miss Kate Sinclair is awaiting you, after all.”
Behind him stood a grizzled old man with a remarkable moustache that covered his lips.
“Need me to give you a few lessons?”
“Thank you, no, I have it.” Stepping forward, he looked at Kate, who in turn looked like someone about to face her doom. “Good day to you.”
