Once a Wallflower, Always a Wallflower (The Inheritance Clause Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  “Mr. Johnson, whatever is the matter?”

  “It’s Mr. Young—he is unwell.”

  “Oh no.” She grimaced. “The same thing Mary had?”

  “Yes, my lady. He was sickening for most of the night.”

  “I should visit him.”

  Mr. Johnson shook his head. “No, my lady. It would not do for you to sicken.”

  She let her shoulders drop. “I suppose you are right. I had better go and find Lachlan—Mr. Sinclair,” she corrected. “I believe he is readying the horses.”

  “You are no doubt eager to start your journey, my lady.” A strange glint entered the man’s eyes. “Maybe you should go on with Mr. Sinclair. I can take care of Young and Mary easily enough.”

  Minerva peered at the man, mouth slightly ajar. Was he really suggesting she go unaccompanied with Lachlan? Not that Minerva would mind particularly—he had already proved himself the most honorable of men—but she would not have expected Mr. Johnson to approve of such a thing. Also, it was hard to picture him playing nursemaid.

  “Believe it or not, my lady, I have quite the tender touch when needed.”

  “I really do not think—”

  “It’s a few days, nothing more. What your family doesn’t know, won’t hurt them.”

  Minerva tried to prevent a smile curving her lips. “I am surprised at you, Mr. Johnson.”

  He gave a grin. “If ever there were a more trustworthy lady than you, I have yet to meet her. All will be well, I promise.”

  How Lachlan would feel about them being alone, she did not know, but the idea made her stomach tighten with excitement. She felt sorry for Mr. Young, but goodness…this really would be a new experience for her.

  As expected, Lachlan was not so impressed with the idea. He grumbled even as they mounted their horses and set off away from the farm.

  “Is it so very terrible to be in my company?” she teased.

  “We should have delayed instead.” He scowled. “Your groom did not look all that unwell when I visited him.”

  “The sooner we do this, the sooner you can have your peace and quiet.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want—” He stopped and sighed. “I hope you can keep up the pace.” He urged his horse on, forcing her to quicken the pace to keep up. She grinned and arrived at his side as they came over the brow of the next hill.

  “Goodness.”

  Spread in front of them, it seemed as though all of Scotland was there for them to see. Wild pastures spread out like a blanket, the tufted corners growing into mountains that looked like she could reach out and touch them if she just stretched enough.

  The scenery only continued to take her breath away, even as the aches of riding horseback started to take their toll. They took breaks when they could, but there was little sign of civilization. Minerva chewed on her bottom lip as the sun grew orange and intense behind the hills.

  Lachlan slowed his pace to come up beside her. “It’s getting late, lass.”

  She grimaced. She was all too aware of the sun dropping low in the sky, casting its warm amber fingers across the rolling hills. Normally, it would be a sight she welcomed, but not when they were seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

  “It seems Mr. Young’s illness delayed us somewhat.”

  He nodded. “We should have reached the next village by now. We are still some distance from it, unfortunately.” He sent her a sideways look, filled with concern. “We cannot travel on in the dark.”

  A shiver ran through her, but not from the cold. Only a light breeze flitted across the Highlands, and her thick pelisse protected her from the worst of it. However, where would they stay? How would they sleep? She could not see a single farmhouse or building anywhere.

  “There is an old barn up ahead.”

  She swung a look at him. “How do you know?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “We’re still on my land, lass.”

  Minerva drew in a breath. “You have been deceiving me. You had me believing you owned but a small parcel of land. Here it seems you own most of Scotland!”

  “I never said it was but a small parcel of land.” He smiled.

  “You never said it was half of Scotland either!”

  “It is not quite that large.”

  “You are too modest. Most men would spend all their day boasting of such ownership.”

  His smile expanded. “Ah, but I’m not most men, lass.”

  She rolled her eyes at his bravado. It was a side to him she rarely saw. What she had said was true, though, he was modest. Perhaps not too modest, but he certainly concealed quite how wealthy he was. She imagined if she had only met him briefly he might have let her go on believing he was a mere farmer. But farmer or not, she liked him immensely, and his relaxed attitude toward his wealth was one of those reasons why. The men she had met in London would be ensuring everyone knew exactly how big a landowner they were—in fact, those who did own decent acreage talked of it frequently. The few who did not included her brother and a close friend of his or two. She supposed that was why she quite liked Lachlan’s modesty. Only the men she admired most did not boast of such things.

  And she admired Lachlan very much.

  To think he came from nothing. What a man he was.

  “How much longer until this barn then?” she asked.

  “Just over this brow.” He motioned toward the top of the slope ahead. “I don’t expect it to be comfortable, but it is shelter.” He sent another concerned look.

  Well, she had wanted to be challenged. She had not anticipated camping out in the wild, barren lands of Scotland, but it would certainly be a new experience. Her grandpapa would be exceedingly pleased, she was sure.

  She drew up her chin. “As you say, so long as it is shelter. Hopefully, we can find a nice bed to rest in tomorrow.”

  “What will you tell your family? When they ask of this journey? I do not think they would be impressed that you spent the night alone with a Scotsman.”

  “My family have their own concerns at present.” She grinned. “And how shall they ever find out? I shall swear Mr. Johnson and Mr. Young to secrecy.”

  “You trust them?”

  “Implicitly. Mr. Johnson has been with the family since I was a child. And Mr. Young has been with us for five years.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I wish I could say the same for my servants. I suspect many of them dislike working for a man who was not born with his wealth.”

  “I imagine they have their reservations. But you would be surprised at what friendships you can create with those who work for you. I would trust many of them with my life. In fact, many of them did save my life that day I was kidnapped. It was several of the servants who found me and held the kidnappers until they could be dealt with.”

  “So, you’re telling me I should make more of an effort?”

  “Well, I would not be so bold. But running away and playing farmer probably does not help things.” She tilted her head. “Your behavior is not that of a normal lord.”

  “I am not a lord,” he pointed out.

  “No, but there is no reason you should not behave as one. Or at least elements of your behavior should be like one. Take command, show them that you are their master. So long as you are good and just—which I know you are—they shall respect you eventually.”

  His eyes crinkled. “I think you should become my adviser, Minerva. You must be the sagest woman I have ever met.”

  She shrugged. “I highly doubt that, but I have lived that sort of life and spent so much time inside that I am highly aware of the inner workings of a servant’s life.” She smiled. “I never thought that experience might come in handy.”

  Lachlan didn’t say anything. His gaze skimmed over her, and a warm smile lingered on his lips. Before she could question why he was giving her such a look, he pointed into the distance. “Look, there is our shelter for the night.”

  The last rays of the sun dripped over the landscape. A small stone barn silhouetted a
gainst the fading daylight. Though she had seen more welcoming buildings, tiredness ate into every one of her muscles. At present, she suspected she could sleep almost anywhere. It looked to be in relatively good repair and would shelter them from any wind or inclement weather for the night.

  Her stomach tightened, sending a little thrill of nervousness through her. Though she could not tell whether it was from the thought of spending the night in a dark building or from being with Lachlan all night—alone.

  Perhaps it was both.

  They came alongside the building, and Lachlan handed her down from the horse. He tethered them and motioned for her to wait. “There is a stream just there,” he indicated with his head down the slope of the hill, “I shall fetch some fresh water for us all and feed and water the horses. “

  “I can help.”

  “Sit, lass, before you fall down. You look exhausted.”

  She grimaced. “I am not used to travelling on horseback for long periods of time, unfortunately. But I had hoped I did not look so fragile.”

  “You never look fragile, but you do look tired.”

  Minerva sank down onto a rock and watched him pick his way down the slope toward a stream. He filled a flagon with water and then the bucket for the horses. She peered around at the slowly graying scenery and drew in a long gulp of fresh air. This experience was so far removed from her life, that she could hardly believe it. Here she was, in the Scottish Highlands, with no bed or proper shelter. If she were in London, she would be tucked up in their townhouse, likely playing cards with her mother or playing the piano. They might have a few visitors over, and she would be avoiding them by reading a book. Yes, she was tired, and her body hurt more than it had ever done before, but she never felt so…so free. Not once had she worried about her safety or thought of that awful night. Even at home in London, she could not claim such a thing.

  Once Lachlan had seen to the horses, he set about lighting a fire and dishing out what food rations they had to keep them going. He sat beside her, a small gap between them that she wished to close. She peered at his profile in the waning light as the golden flicker of flames danced across his features.

  “I imagine you did not anticipate having to escort a girl across the Highlands for some silly task when you answered your door, did you?”

  He leaned over and warmed his hands by the fire. “Has it worked?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Has it worked? What your grandfather intended for you? He wanted to give you courage and help you see more of the world, aye?”

  Minerva stared into the flames. “Yes, I think it has. I cannot claim to be cured, but this has made me hungry for more. I cannot imagine returning to London and living the same life that I did.” She shook her head to herself. “My grandpapa was a clever man, but I did not anticipate a journey to Scotland could do such a thing for me.”

  “What sort of life do you anticipate living?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I had not quite thought that far ahead.” She twisted to eye him. “What of you?”

  “What of me?”

  “Will you embrace your wealth?”

  He chuckled. “That sounds a little like an order.”

  “One would think a man who worked so hard for such a thing would take great pleasure in having achieved so much.”

  Lachlan chucked an extra piece of wood on the fire. “It has taken some getting used to,” he admitted.

  “What was your childhood like?”

  He hesitated, blowing out a long breath. “Hard work. Not very fun. There were times I enjoyed the farming side of it—working with the animals—that sort of thing. But it was mostly just hard labor. We went hungry a lot.”

  “I am sorry.” She could not even imagine. Another thing this journey had brought her was the chance to meet people who were entirely different from her. Yes, what she had been through had been traumatic and painful but at least she had enjoyed the comfort of wealth and good family around her.

  He lifted a shoulder. “It is in the past.”

  “I know better than anyone it is not easy to escape the past.”

  He stood, abruptly ending the conversation. Perhaps he was ashamed of his past, but she wished he would speak about it more openly. A man who had worked his way up from nothing had little to be ashamed of.

  “We should rest for the night. I have laid out some blankets in the barn but…”

  “But?”

  “It shall be cold, lass.”

  Understanding dawned on her. “We shall need to sleep together,” she finished for him.

  “I am not trying to be ungentlemanly, I hope you believe that. I would never take advantage.”

  A tiny flutter of disappointment lingered in her chest. After that kiss the other night, she had rather hoped for a repeat. She wanted new experiences, and that kiss had certainly been one.

  They settled for the night, and Lachlan wrapped his firm arms about her, making her feel tiny yet protected. The warmth from his chest seeped into her body, and thankfully, the exhaustion from the day would carry her off to sleep in no time, she was certain of that, despite the wind that seeped into the old building and hard ground beneath her. It didn’t stop her trying to watch him in the gloom through heavy lids, though. She wanted more from Lachlan Sinclair—more kisses, more information, more insight into his life.

  More Lachlan, she supposed with a sigh. That was all she wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  “Stay here a wee while, lass.” Lachlan motioned for Minerva to remain with the horses outside the cottage. There was no guarantee they would find accommodation in this wee village, but if the old couple could not spare a room as they were known to do for many visitors, he imagined he could find someone else to take them in.

  Lord knows, they could do with a roof over their heads for the night. Though Minerva revealed few signs of fatigue, she had to be as tired as he. Although, maybe she had slept better than he had. Lying with her in his arms was a sweet mixture of torture and bliss. He’d been aware of every breath, every movement of her body. Even every flutter of her eyelids in the dark. He grimaced to himself. Whatever she said about lack of interest, there would be a man out there one day who would get to do such a thing every night.

  He gritted his teeth. He already hated that man.

  After knocking swiftly on the door, he waited a few more moments while Minerva sent him anxious looks. He heard voices—male and female—no doubt the elderly couple whom he had been informed might loan the spare room for the night. It sounded as though they were arguing. That did not bode well.

  The door inched open, and a wizened face with sick, wiry eyebrows and clear blue eyes peered up at him. The man’s moustache bristled, and his gaze ran up and down Lachlan. “You’re the laird, are you not?”

  “I am no laird.” But how the man already knew of their presence in the village, he did not know. The gossip clearly worked quickly in this small settlement.

  “You want a place for the night?”

  The door still only remained marginally open. That was until a bony hand curled around the door and yanked it open. A woman no larger than her husband—who were both smaller than Minerva—gave him a similar appraisal. A grin broke across her face, gap toothed but welcoming.

  “It doesn’t matter if he is a laird or not. We always have a room for those in need.”

  Her husband grumbled something under his breath that Lachlan did not catch.

  The old woman gave him a nudge with a bony elbow. The man rubbed his ribs and swung a disgruntled look her way. “Aye, aye, we have a room.”

  The woman peered out of the door, looking left and right down the street. “Where is your wife?”

  Lachlan nodded toward Minerva, who stood warily, eyeing everyone who walked past. No doubt this place, with its small stone cottages, tucked into green hills with a simple mud path running between them, was unlike even the smallest of villages in England. Those few people around peered at her
openly, surely curious about the woman who looked unlike any of them.

  “Ah, but she is bonny.” The old woman clasped her hands together. “You can tie up your horses at the stable down the way.”

  “You have my thanks.” Before Lachlan could turn away, the old man opened his palm.

  “Coin first,” he demanded.

  The old woman tutted and rolled her eyes, giving him another nudge with an elbow. The man winced. “I mean… settle your horses first, then we can discuss payment.”

  “I will pay whatever your rate is.” Somehow, he managed to suppress a grin at the old man’s annoyance and his wife’s interference.

  “Get your horses settled first,” the lady said. “Then we shall give you some hearty food. It looks like your wife needs it.”

  Lachlan rather thought that Minerva looked well indeed. Despite the lack of rest, and the time spent on horseback, the fresh air tinged her cheeks red, and there were a few freckles forming on her nose. He shouldn’t know that, of course. Shouldn’t have been close enough to count them. But he had been. And he would not forget it.

  Nor would he correct them on their assumption that she was his wife. There was no chance that an old lady like their host would let them share a room if they were not married. At present, they had little choice. They required sleep and food, and nothing could be much more scandalous than having spent the night in each other’s arms.

  Not that Minerva had seemed to mind. She was very unlike the prim ladies of England that he had met previously.

  He paused before heading back to Minerva. Two men had approached, and he curled a fist. She glanced up at them, her gaze swinging back and forth. Though he could not hear what she was saying, he recognized the fear in her stance. Her shoulders were dropped, her hands clasped in front of her. Lachlan had little intention of starting a fight within the small community, but if he had to protect her, he would happily use fists. It’d been many years since he had had to, but in his younger years, fighting had been a way of life.

  Because, of course, he was raised in a similar community. Where hunger was common and fighting for resources happened regularly. There were those who worked together, and there were those who sought only to help themselves. These men were likely those last sorts. He clenched his jaw. And damn did he hate those type of people.