Tempting the Highland Spy (Highland Hearts)

by Kingston, Tara

“I cannot imagine there is a shortage of rugged Highlanders,” Grace said with a little shrug. “I’ve certainly seen an abundance of good-looking men since I arrived in Scotland.”

  “I do wish one would wander my way,” Lady Edythe said with a little sigh for effect.

  “So, tell me, Mrs. MacMasters,” Lady Sybil’s lips thinned. “When did you and Dr. MacMasters wed? I’m shocked that word of your nuptials did not reach me. The MacMasters are a prominent family in the Highlands. The family made its fortune in whisky, or so I’m told.”

  “Our wedding was a simple affair. We plan to have a second ceremony upon our arrival at my husband’s home.”

  The lie flowed easily, utterly plausible and not too overdone. Still, Lady Sybil eyed her as if she’d detected the falseness of her words.

  “I don’t recall ever hearing of you, aside from your attendance at some rather unimportant weddings.”

  Grace hiked a brow. “The weddings were hardly unimportant to those who said their vows.”

  “Quite so,” Lady Sybil agreed quickly. “I misspoke.”

  Belle set her cup on the tray and moved to the window, sweeping the curtains aside. Turning back to them, she looked as if she wished for nothing more than to change the subject. “It is a lovely day, ladies. Shall we tour the garden?”

  “That would be wonderful,” Grace said, thankful for an opportunity to focus on something—anything, really—other than Lady Sybil’s dour expression.

  “You should bring your pencils,” Belle suggested. “You’ll find an abundance of flora and fauna to sketch.”

  “A wonderful idea!”

  Grace hurried back to her room, nearly bumping into Mrs. Carmichael in the process. The older woman regarded her with good humor, even as concern filled her eyes. “You really do need to be careful, dear.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, gathering her pad and pencils. “I’m afraid I’m not well named. Grace is not my strong suit.”

  The click of the latch caught her attention. Why had Mrs. Carmichael closed the door?

  “I wasn’t referring to that.”

  Grace met her eyes. “Then what… what are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t sleep in here last night.”

  “I’m well aware of that. I was restless… I didn’t want to disturb you.” She pulled in a low breath to calm herself.

  “Grace, I’ve grown fond of you. I want you to be careful…you’re in a vulnerable state, and I’d hate to see you hurt.”

  “Oh, you’re referring to MacMasters.”

  The older woman sighed. “I do understand your feelings. I wasn’t always a widow. But you must guard yourself…and your heart.”

  “You believe he will wound me?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Carmichael lowered her gaze for little more than a heartbeat. When she met Grace’s eyes, she slowly shook her head. “And no. I don’t mean to sound contradictory.”

  Grace’s pulse pounded against her ears. “Then what do you mean?”

  “Harrison MacMasters would never hurt a woman. Not intentionally. He’s a good man, solid as they come.”

  A bitter lump seared the back of Grace’s throat, but she would not betray the emotion. Not to Mrs. Carmichael. Not to anyone.

  Grace set her drawing pad on the table and squared her shoulders. “But you do not believe I am good enough for him?”

  Again, Mrs. Carmichael shook her head. “No. It’s nothing like that. It’s simply that I don’t know if Harry has it in him to…to dedicate himself to anything other than his duty to the Guild.”

  “I don’t understand. Just days ago, you referred to him as reckless. Yet now you describe him as so fiercely dedicated to duty he might never allow for a woman in his life.”

  “Both statements are true. If you recall, we were discussing Harry as a lad. In his youth, he was a charming boy accustomed to getting his way. He’d broken his fair share of young hearts by the time he’d graduated university. It was only after his brother’s death that he cast aside his pursuit of pleasure and, in fact, happiness.” She motioned Grace to take a seat in the side chair while she paced over the rug. “You see, he blamed himself for what happened.”

  “How could he possibly have been responsible?”

  “His brother’s death was indeed a tragedy. Lady Kathleen, their mother, still bears the grief for the loss of her eldest son. The murder was a terrible thing.”

  Grace’s breath caught. “Murder?”

  Mrs. Carmichael nodded grimly. “Andrew MacMasters was an operative of the Guild, following the tradition of the MacMasters men. Harry was young then and inexperienced. He’d accompanied Andrew on a mission. Both men made mistakes that night.”

  “But why would Harrison carry the guilt?”

  “They were on the trail of a killer. Their quarry was clever, and treacherous as a viper. Andrew made the mistake of trusting her. When he was killed, Harrison had left him alone. He was pursuing the company of a woman. If he’d been there, he might have intervened…he might have saved him. Or so he thinks.”

  The thought of Harrison’s grief hit her like a blow. “Oh, my. But surely he knows it wasn’t his fault.”

  Mrs. Carmichael seemed to ponder her words. “For years, he’s tortured himself, questioning what he’d done.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “There’s no way to turn back time.”

  “His mother…did she blame him?”

  She shook her head. “Lady Kathleen understood her sons faced deadly risks in their service to the Guild. As we all do. It’s a MacMasters’ tradition.”

  “Are you a MacMasters, Mrs. Carmichael?”

  “Not quite—not by blood, at least. Though over the years, the bond between Lady Kathleen and myself has been as close as sisters.”

  “Someday, you will have to tell me more,” Grace said, sensing a story behind their friendship.

  “Someday,” she agreed. “You care for him. I can see it every time you look at Harry. You deserve to know the ghosts that haunt him.”

  “Caring for him is a fool’s game, isn’t it?” Grace questioned softly.

  “At times. All through our lives, we face untold danger.”

  “And Harrison…” Her eyes locked with the older woman’s. “Is he worth the risk?”

  “Only you can answer that, Grace.”

  “Thank you—I needed to know… I needed to understand.”

  “I thought so,” Mrs. Carmichael said. “There’s something else I must tell you. Please, be extremely cautious when you’re away from Harrison or myself. I do not know who to trust in this place. Raibert makes my skin crawl. I don’t like the look in his eyes.”

  “I’m actually starting to feel this has all been a bit of a goose chase. I don’t believe Belle is capable of violence, and Raibert only appears to be guilty of possessing an overblown sense of his own importance. The strangest of the lot are Lady Edythe and Lady Sybil. Both speak as though they practice some sort of witchcraft. But they seem harmless enough. It’s all rather silly, really.”

  The color drained from Mrs. Carmichael’s face. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating them, Grace. I didn’t want to alarm you, but I found something on the bed this morning when I returned from breakfast.”

  “What was it?”

  The older woman retrieved a small, embossed silver charm from her bag. “It’s an amulet. If my ability to decipher one of these things remains intact, it’s a talisman.”

  “Someone tried to put a curse on you?”

  “No, just the opposite. This is a protective symbol. Whoever placed this in my room was not a foe.”

  “But isn’t that a form of witchcraft?” Just saying the words unsettled Grace, as if she’d traveled back to Salem in 1692.

  “It’s possible,” Mrs. Carmichael agreed. “Or the practice may reflect an ancient superstition. At this point, it’s not possible to say. Let’s check this room to see if you received a similar gift.”

  A quick search of the chamber revealed two similar
charms, one placed upon each pillow.

  “Well, this is unsettling. Although, it could be worse,” Grace said, swallowing against a tiny pinch of fear. “It appears someone wishes to protect us.”

  “The question is—against what?” Mrs. Carmichael’s tone was matter-of-fact as she went to the door. “Do be cautious, dear. Take nothing for granted. And trust no one. I suspect this is only the beginning.”

  Grace rushed back to the study where Belle waited for her. She flashed a smile and laughed softly.

  “I was about to send a search party for you.”

  “I am sorry. My secretary, Mrs. Carmichael, was involved with some correspondence that required my attention.”

  “Oh, I do understand,” Belle said. “Shall we move to the terrace? Lady Sybil and Lady Edythe won’t be joining us.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, eager to drink in fresh air and the beauty of the surrounding grounds. She’d enjoy putting her pencil and pad to good use capturing the scene. And, perhaps, she’d gain more insight into Belle in the process.

  They strolled beyond the confines of the house. The aroma of spring flowers surrounded them, a light, delightful blend of scents. Belle said little until they reached the gazebo, well out of earshot of those in the house. She swept her skirts to the side and settled on a wooden bench. “Lady Sybil developed a megrim, and her niece immediately followed suit. I did not realize they were contagious.”

  “What a pity. I so enjoyed speaking with Lady Sybil.”

  Belle nodded knowingly. “She’s not so bad as she seems. At least, I keep telling myself that.”

  Grace set her drawing book on the bench, but she was too restless to sit. She leaned against the pillar of the wooden structure. “I’m starting to feel I’ve offended the woman in some way. It’s the oddest thing.”

  “Don’t give it any thought. If I did, I’d go mad. Lady Edythe tries to be pleasant, but her aunt is a well-spoken dragon in silk.”

  “Perhaps she’s gone to mix up a potion,” Grace said lightly as she watched for Belle’s reaction.

  Belle cocked a brow. “I suspect her potions contain a good deal of laudanum. I certainly would not touch one.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, they seem a bit eccentric. What was that about love potions?”

  A bit of color drained from Belle’s face. “Oh, dear, I was hoping you hadn’t taken her seriously.”

  “Of course not. It was rather odd, though, when Lady Edythe mentioned she’d said too much. She definitely has a talent for making it seem as if she’s revealing some grand secret.”

  “Edythe does enjoy stirring a scandal where there is none, but she did touch upon the truth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I do feel I can trust you, Grace. I pray you will not think ill of me.” Belle swept her long, unpinned hair over her shoulder. “Who knows what else she’ll say, so I suppose I need to explain. You see, before I left America I dabbled in…shall we say…the arcane arts. Parlor tricks, really.”

  “Did you actually blend potions?” Grace infused surprise in her voice.

  “I toyed with the notion of spellcasting. The idea intrigued me…at first.”

  “Surely it was all harmless fun.”

  A look of regret clouded Belle’s expression. “In the beginning, I believed it was. It seemed an amusement, nothing more.”

  “Did something happen?”

  Belle looked away, her gaze seeming to trace the path of a hawk soaring across the sky. “My father died.”

  “You cannot possibly believe there was a connection.”

  “I don’t know.” Anguish made the words a raw whisper. “Father wanted to keep me from Donnal. Once, not long before his accident, I had the most awful thought.” Her sigh held notes of grief. “I wished him out of my life…forever.”

  “Belle, you cannot think you had anything to do with his death. It was an unfortunate coincidence.”

  “If only I could be sure.” She wrung her hands nervously. “After my father’s death, I wanted no part of it.”

  Grace pulled in a breath. Witnessing Belle’s distress was difficult. She had not anticipated her grief. “And your fiancé… Was he also involved with…magic?”

  Belle came to her feet and gripped the side rail of the gazebo, as if to steady herself. “In the beginning, I’d thought it was all rather amusing, like a magician’s trick, but now, I cannot be sure. Suppose it was real. Suppose—”

  “Of course it wasn’t real. You shouldn’t torment yourself like this.”

  “There are times when I’m afraid. I shouldn’t tell you this, but somehow, you’re the only one I feel I can trust. Donnal assured me he’d given it up. But I feel he’s lying. Why else would he associate so closely with Lady Sybil?”

  Grace pictured the woman and her niece, recalling no resemblance between them and Raibert. “I was wondering about their connection.”

  “The ties between their families span generations. Or so I’m told. Beyond that, I know little, other than it seems they’re always in tow. I first made their acquaintance when we arrived in Scotland several weeks ago. Lady Sybil and Lady Edythe were visiting in the city. Since then, they’ve been a near constant presence.” Belle looked away again, seeming to collect her thoughts. “I don’t really mind. Not for the most part, at least.”

  “Lady Edythe seemed excited by the prospect of meeting Mr. Thornquist. With any luck, he’ll sweep her off her feet.”

  “And out of my life.” Belle pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, goodness, I am sorry to be so blunt.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry. I am your friend. I want nothing but the best for you.”

  The thinnest of smiles lifted the corners of Belle’s mouth. “That means a great deal to me, Grace.”

  “It won’t be long before you’re settled in here. Leaving New York behind was a difficult transition. But you’ll do well.”

  “If only I didn’t feel my every move was being scrutinized. It’s so very awkward.”

  “Surely their interference will come to an end once you and Donnal have celebrated your vows. After all, you’ll be the lady of the house then.”

  “There are times when I don’t want to be here. Not with them. Not with Donnal.” Belle’s lower lip trembled. “Do you ever… have you ever felt that way with your husband?”

  The question caught her by surprise. “At times,” Grace replied, trying not to stumble over her words. “It’s normal to have jitters before one’s wedding.”

  “It’s not quite so simple as that.” Tears brimmed in Belle’s eyes. “If I wanted to leave, there’s no way out. You see, we’ve already spoken our vows.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Spoken your vows?” Grace repeated the words. Surely she’d misunderstood.

  Belle nodded. Given the way she kept swallowing, it looked as though she was holding back tears. “Donnal is my husband.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Before we left New York… Before my father died.”

  “Good heavens, this is quite a surprise,” Grace said, as much to herself as to Belle.

  “My father could not abide my relationship with Donnal. Father thought he was a scoundrel after my money. Actually, he tended to think every man who was interested in me was more interested in an heiress than a woman. If he’d had had his way, he would’ve used his influence to send Donnal from New York, bags in hand. He didn’t understand that I loved him.” She wrung her hands again. “So, Donnal and I stole away, found a preacher, and ensured that my father could not legally separate us.”

  “Oh, dear.” Grace rubbed her jaw, easing a sudden ache. “How did your father react to the news?”

  “Father never found out. He died the next night, before I’d even had a chance to tell him—I hadn’t even returned from running off with Donnal. We arrived in the city the morning…the morning his valet found him…dead.”

  “How terrible for you.”

  “It wa
s a nightmare. My mother has been gone for so very long. I was only a toddler when she died in childbirth. All of my memories of childhood centered around my father. He was a good man. To learn that he’d died while I’d run off and disobeyed his wishes…the realization crushed me. And then, the papers started their campaign to ruin me. Donnal and I had an alibi, but that wasn’t good enough. They wanted to blame me, the Notorious Heiress.”

  Grace put her arm around Belle’s shoulders, reassuring her. Her voice trembling, Belle went on. “The headlines screamed that I’d wanted my father’s money. How very ironic. I didn’t even inherit his fortune.”

  Though spoken in a hushed whisper, the words jarred Grace like an explosion. Belle met Grace’s gaze, brushing away a tear that had escaped her control. “Oh, I’m not penniless,” she said. “Not by a long shot. One of the trusts Father set up provides well for me. But other than a quarterly stipend doled out by a lawyer in New York, I have no control of the funds until I reach my twenty-fifth birthday in September.”

  A melodic voice called out Belle’s name. Evidently, Lady Edythe had recovered from her megrim in record time.

  “Here…in the gazebo,” Belle responded, smoothing the emotion from her voice.

  Lady Edythe’s shoes crunched over a few twigs, and at one point, it sounded as if she’d stumbled over some foliage, but she managed to make it to them unscathed.

  “Good heavens, it’s quite the challenge to find you,” Lady Edythe said, glancing down at a bit of dirt on her formerly pristine shoes. “I do hope Donnal will hire a groundskeeper to bring this jungle under control.”

  “Soon. I take it you’re feeling better.” Belle’s tone was tepid as lukewarm tea.

  “I suppose.” Lady Edythe looked down at her shoes again, lips pinched in annoyance. “That vein in my head is starting to pound again.”

  “This is the most peaceful place. I adore the scent of wildflowers in the spring,” Grace said. “Fresh air may ease your megrim.”

  Lady Edythe rubbed her temples. “I do hope I feel better before dinner. I’m looking forward to making Mr. Thornquist’s acquaintance. I hear he’s quite charming.”

  “I’ve never met the man. My courtship with Donnal was like a storm rushing through. There was no chance to meet his friends.” Belle stared down at her hands, seeming to search for the right words. She managed a wan smile as she met Lady Edythe’s narrow-eyed gaze. “As the wedding festivities commence later this week, it’s comforting to have dear friends that I can turn to. I’d wanted this wedding so badly. I’d wanted to wear a glorious gown and walk down the aisle of the church. But I hadn’t realized how isolated I would feel in this castle…away from everyone I loved.”