“…Nay, if the stones grind together wi’out the grain between them, they can grow hot or spark to start a fire,” Boyce was saying when she went back inside and shut the door behind her, ignoring the dog’s pitiful whine from without.
The older man pushed himself to his feet and swayed. Aila rushed forward to catch him before he fell. He waved her back and sat on the pile of filled bags, tugging a kerchief from his pocket to mop his ashen brow. “Dinnae fret, mistress. These bouts of feeling poorly hae become a nuisance, but I’m in nae need of assistance.” He addressed the children once more. “Now if ye want to help me finish washing the stones, I’ll show ye how it works.”
“Why do ye need to wash it, if it’s only going to get dirty again?” Effie asked in a perfect example of a child’s logic.
“Aye, well…” The miller dithered and scratched his balding head.
He spent longer answering the question than Aila considered necessary. “For the same reason ye bathe even though ye’re only going to dirty yerself again. Everything needs a bath now and then. Carry on.”
“Aye, gi’ her a good scrubbing.” Boyce appeared relieved by her explanation then abashed by her questioning glance. Producing another rag when the children squabbled over the one in the bucket, he peered out the window with a worried frown. “Truth is, mistress, some in the village are blaming my oats for their recent…er, troubles.”
“The sickness? I was told it was nothing catching.”
“’Tis nothing, I’m sure. Some rot or such on the millstones. It’ll hurt nothing to take a few precautions, aye?”
“Um hmm.” Aila nodded noncommittally. Oats weren’t the sort of thing that caused food poisoning, however given Ian’s description of the malaise, the diagnosis did fit.
He ran a hand over his saggy jowls. “These things come and go, as they say. ’Tis nonsense to blame the oats. Why, I hardly touch the stuff myself.”
A miller who didn’t eat flour? The idea sparked a bit of humor. Rather like the chef who hated to cook at home, she thought. The seamstress who hated to hem her own trousers. Or the gynecologist who…well, everyone knew that old joke.
“I’ll pray for a quick recovery,” she said. “What do ye think has been causing it, then?”
He shrugged but before he could answer, Niall broke in. “This is nae fun. I thought we were hunting for treasure.”
“What’s this?”
“We’re hunting treasure,” Effie answered Boyce’s question.
“A game we’re playing,” Aila told him, then motioned for the children to continue washing the stone which they did with grudging enthusiasm. As the children scrubbed, they doused each other with more water than the stone itself. Taking another step back out of firing range, she decided to plunge right in. “Have ye ever hunted for treasure, Mr. Boyce?”
He scratched his head again. “Treasure? Cannae say that I hae.”
“Never? Ye never ken, perhaps ye already have one?” She put a teasing note into her voice and topped it off with the most blithe expression she could summon. “I heard rumor that one of yer clansmen was given a bit of treasure by the old duke.”
Much to her surprise, Boyce offered a scornful laugh. “Och, that?”
“Ye know of it?”
“Aye, my Da was the one ye refer to. Alas, I’d hardly call it a treasure.”
Aila blinked in astonishment. It couldn’t have been this simple. More than two centuries of speculation in exchange for the shrug of a shoulder? “Surely a gift from the duke must have been something noteworthy?”
“A few gold crowns and an old necklace,” he told her with a shrug. “The duke also paid for the repairs on this here mill after it caught fire when I was a youth and signed over the lease to my Da. Och, dinnae look so fashed, mistress. Folks hae a way of embellishing tales as the years pass, aye?”
What an understatement. Aila swallowed her disappointment. That embellishment had led to the virtual demolition of Bessie’s cottage as well as a few black eyes and a split lip. And that had been within the past few days…for her, at any rate. The mystery had captured her imagination so thoroughly she’d landed herself in the relative Middle Ages for it. For this? For nothing?
Nay, there had to be something to it for the legend to last for centuries.
Could Boyce be lying? Covering up something more? Deception from such a kind man was hard to swallow. She’d been a fool to listen to Donell.
Aware that Boyce watched her closely, she managed a light laugh and sat on a pile of bags next to him. “What folly! Ye’re correct, Mr. Boyce, people’s imaginations can get carried away when left to speculation. There were…er, nae jewels or anything on the necklace then?”
“Nay, in fact, Ma considered it too unsightly and ungainly to wear and put it aside. My dear wife agreed when I showed it to her.” He patted her hand, looking for all the world as if it meant nothing beyond that. “I can show it to ye, if ye like.”
“That would be great!” Realizing how eager she sounded, Aila modified her statement. “That is, I’m certain the children would enjoy learning how ye came by it.”
His grin became a chuckle as he misinterpreted her tone as one of desperation. In a way she was. Desperate to make sense of all this. “Running ye ragged, are they?”
“Ye have nae idea. The dog responds to commands better than they do.”
“They’re a right handful,” he said with an indulgent smile as he watched them. “Remind me of my own when they were lads. Come back tomorrow, if it pleases ye. They’ve spilled so much water on the stones I’ll get nothing other than mud off them for hours. When ye return, I’ll show them how the milling works. In the meantime, perhaps between the two of us we can come up with a tale more worthy of treasure before I show it to them.”
“Ye’re pure kindness, Mr. Boyce,” she said with sincerity. “Nevertheless, I should hate to trouble ye if ye’re weary.”
“A good night’s sleep is all I need.”
With that assurance, she rounded up the children who were glad to cease their labors and made their farewells.
“Thank ye again for yer time, sir, and for helping me with the children.” Aila stepped out the door. Niall and Effie were already hightailing it to the woods with Rab chasing after them. She was about to make her own pursuit when another thought struck. “Out of curiosity, what was it that yer father did to earn a reward of any sort from the duke?”
The miller tilted his head to the side and scratched the underside of his jaw. “To be honest, lass, I hae nae idea.”
Chapter 14
“Unsightly and ungainly. That’s what he said.”
He’d also said he had no idea what his father did to earn the reward. Aila wasn’t entirely sure she believed him.
She delivered Niall and Effie back to the nursery later that afternoon to take their evening meal. While her energy was flagging, the pair hadn’t missed a beat. They’d run willy-nilly through the woods and village, losing her time and again, taking great joy in the feat. Even upon returning to the castle, they’d found hiding places among the statuary and hadn’t revealed themselves until she spent close to a half hour searching.
Bloody rascals.
Along the way, she’d been fascinated by the living history around her. The people. The sights. The untouched countryside was gorgeous, ablaze with the burnt orange, gold, and bronze of autumn.
She’d also learned a few harsh lessons. First, to avoid the bailey whenever possible. The children might be used to it but her first glimpse of a chicken having its neck wrung had almost made a vegetarian of her. Secondly, same for the kitchens. They weren’t much better, inundated with a billion health code violations that would be easier to dismiss if she didn’t see them. It was either that or starve.
The village, orchard, and castle halls were safe ground as long as they were careful to avoid that prick Derne. She’d been trying to run them down when he caught them dangling from the chains to the old drawbridge. Even from a distance, sh
e’d seen the bilious glare he’d skewered Niall and Effie with. Bright side, they’d run straight back to her that time.
Amidst all that running, they’d also circled close enough to the castle construction for her to spot Finn, not merely supervising his men, but in his shirtsleeves working alongside them. Hardly lordly behavior lifting and levering stone into place. It did explain where the delicious, massive muscle she’d explored had come from, though. She’d been almost reluctant to return to the castle after that, content to watch him for hours.
Not nearly as enthralled as she, the children had continued their explorations, leaving her no choice but to follow.
As refreshed from her day as Aila was exhausted, Jean offered to feed the pair and settle them in for the night. Thankful for the break, as they would no doubt be reinvigorated in the morning and ready to wear her down again, she decided to take her trunk back to her room for a moment’s peace and mull over the conundrum.
One more day and she’d get her hands on the treasure. If there truly was nothing noteworthy about it, then what? “I’ll know I’ve been played, that’s what.” Rab followed her down the spiral staircase, a good listener, as usual. “Aye, bloody right I’ll have a few choice words for Donell when I get home if that’s the case. Nay, they willnae be kind ones.” She rounded another floor. “I’ll no’ take such fuckery kindly, to be sure.”
“Och, lass, I feel a startling sense of déjà vu each time we meet.” Ian caught her elbow to prevent her from ramming the trunk into his chest again or perhaps to keep her from tumbling down the stairs.
“Ye should stop skulking in the shadows then,” Aila berated him with her heart in her throat.
“Me? I’m merely going up to visit my son,” he argued. “Ye? Ye’re the one wi’ the barmy habit of talking to dogs and toting trunks about. Here, allow me? Where are ye off to this time?”
“My room.”
Taking the trunk, he pivoted on one heel and descended the stairs. Rab dodged around him and took the lead. As if he knew their destination, the dog exited at the proper floor and trotted down the hall to her door. The canny beast. He hadn’t even been to her bedchamber yet, how could he know? Brow knitted, Aila scratched his head as she caught up with him but refrained from giving voice to her wonder given the presence of her other companion. She unlocked the door and stepped aside for Ian to enter.
He set the trunk at the foot of the bed and lifted a brow at the rumpled bedcovers. She flushed; afraid he might say something about how they’d come to be in such a disheveled state. Instead he straightened and met her eyes with a vague smile.
“While I’ve appreciated the diversion, might I hope this delightful piece of baggage will find a more permanent resting place at last?”
“I dinnae ken about permanent.”
His brow lifted at her acerbic reply. “Chasing after two lively bairns more of a challenge than ye anticipated?”
“Lively? Hardly the word I’d use.” Aila sat on the side of the bed and resumed her scratching of Rab’s ears when he leapt up next to her. “To be fair, it’s a challenge I never wanted.”
“Then why take it? Why no’ return to the Orkneys? Or better yet, box Finn’s ears for being such an arse to begin wi’?”
“Now there’s an alternative I could embrace.”
With a slight smile on his lips, Ian moved to the window and glanced out at the darkening sky. “He’s out of practice wi’ woman, ye ken?”
Following a night with Finn and a day replaying each minute of it in her mind, Aila would argue that point. It was far more probable that he relished his role as an arse — by his own admission, that might be the case — or his sexism was so rooted in his being that he truly couldn’t understand how his words might upset. Either way, he’d proven he was about as far from out of practice as a man could be.
“As are ye, aye?” Aila’s gaze followed him as he went to a side table, pulled open a small drawer and reached inside. “I want to apologize for my comments last night. It was insensitive of me to bring up such a painful subject.”
“Dinnae fash,” he said as he crossed to the fireplace and knelt at the hearth. “As I said, ’tis nothing. I would ask ye to provide Finn the same consideration ye pay me, however. Yer kindness.”
“I hardly know him.”
Ian glanced over his shoulder with a soft snort and turned his attention back to the fireplace, rearranging the logs. “He has his own demons, ye ken. Whilst I have vanquished mine, his are alive and well. They torment him with visions of the past when he’d do better to mind his bairns and look to the future. He isnae a man generally given to distraction when he has a goal in mind. In the space of a day, ye’ve worked a miracle wi’ him.”
Sex would do that to a man. And a woman. Anyone who had problems they wanted to forget. While the effect might last for a few hours, maybe even a day, it was no miracle.
A flame flared in the growing darkness and dimmed. A moment later, fire kindled and caught. Aila gaped at the growing blaze. Now, that? That was a miracle!
“’Tis cold in here.” Dusting off his hands, Ian stood and moved a wooden screen adjacent to the hearth. Welcome warmth rebounded back onto Aila. And to think she’d always thought those screens were decorative! “One of the maids should have started the fire for ye. I’ll make certain it’s taken care of in the future.”
“How did ye…?” She bit her tongue and watched as he retrieved a candle, set the wick to the flame and then positioned it in a candlestick in front of the small mirror on the table for the light to reflect around the room. “Thank ye.”
“Ye were saying?”
To ask how to light a fire would make her feel more the fool than she did after her other gaffs in this time thus far. Aila had no desire to lower his opinion of her, mainly because she had no idea where she stood in his regard. If the fireplace remained lit, she could light candles from it as needed.
Thanks to him. It would be nice to repay the kindness. “Only to make my apologies again and offer my condolences on the loss of your family. Would ye care to talk about it?”
One dark brow rose. “About what?”
“No’ this again.” Aila’s pulse leapt at the sight of Finn at the door. He leaned one shoulder against the jamb, arms crossed over his chest. While she knew enough about him to recognize his open enjoyment of fatherhood and to sympathize with his losses, Aila didn’t know enough about him to know if she even liked him yet. But she wanted him. More with each kiss, each encounter. That had never happened before.
His solemn gaze landed on the messy bed where Rab sprawled out like a pasha before turning to her. His stoic expression offered no clue to his thoughts or the assumptions he’d made upon finding them alone together. He lifted a brow in Ian’s direction. “Beware, my friend. I fear she wants ye to talk about yer feelings.”
* * *
One might jump to conclusions finding a young, bonny and unchaperoned woman alone with a man next to an unmade bed. If one did not know the character of the lady well — and he did not — and one did not have the measure of the gentleman, it would be a simple deduction. Especially given the ease with which that lady had fallen into another stranger’s bed with a rather vocal admission about having no regrets on the matter.
However, Finn did know Ian. He knew where his friend’s heart and his loyalties lay. Ian had also made his own observations on the matter clear and had been rather excruciatingly encouraging of Finn’s interactions with the lady. Bedding Aila would be a betrayal in his mind.
As for Aila… Given the varied statements included in her rant that morning, the impulsiveness that had driven her into Finn’s bed had been unusual for her.
An anomaly, she said. A freak of nature. He wasn’t entirely clear what that entailed, however he’d wagered he wouldn’t be too far afield to assume that she was as taken aback by the impact of their mutual attraction as he.
Besides, the door had been open. Their conversation muffled, yet loud enough to draw his
attention. Those factors left nothing to the imagination. Yet she eyed him warily, as if he were an untamed tiger. Ready to pounce and tear her to shreds? Despite his reservations regarding the wisdom of their liaison, she’d be a fool to think he bore any regret for the night’s activities. Memories of their ardor had kept him at half mast, so to speak, for most of the day.
If he were inclined to any sort of pouncing, it would be to ravish her through another long night.
Shame Aila didn’t seem as if she’d welcome his advances again.
Then again, she hadn’t exuded any sort of covert invitation the previous night either. Other than her reaction when he’d kissed her hand, he never in his wildest dreams would have guessed she desired him with the fervor she’d displayed in the darkness.
Regardless of how her very presence teased his focus away from the matters that had commanded his thoughts and motivations from the darkness they’d dwelled in — where he wanted them to dwell — these past two years, Finn couldn’t banish her from his mind. He hesitated to admit that he welcomed her there or nurtured unseemly fantasies, nevertheless he wouldn’t be averse to another foray to her bed.
“Well, this is decidedly awkward.”
There was humor enough in Ian’s voice to awaken Finn from his stupor long enough to realize he’d been staring. He tore his eyes from Aila and cleared his throat. “I’ve just come from a visit to the nursery. Niall is brimming with stories about how they spent the day.”
Ian nodded and turned to Aila, his expectant look jolting her into motion. She set about straightening the bedcovers with a forced laugh. “He’s a talker, that one. I imagine he chewed yer ear off.”
“There, now that I’ve set the ball in motion, I’m going to pay my son his due visit.” Ian strode to the door. “Meet ye downstairs for our meal shortly?”
A Good Scot is Hard to Find (Something About a Highlander Book 2) Page 12
