Highland Salvation

by Lori Ann Bailey

  …

  The house looked the same as when Finlay had stopped by on his way back to Scotland last year. He’d hired an estate manager based on the recommendation of Prudence, his youngest brother’s wife. The man had been instructed to hire a staff and see to it the house was brought to a manageable state, along with caring for the estate’s property and managing the books.

  Although Everly Gerrick had admirable recommendations, so far, it appeared the man had done nothing. Was the estate manager responsible for the problems Catriona House was facing? If not, the man was still guilty of negligence for not letting Finlay know his estate was in dire straits. As far as Finlay could tell, the only staff present were the ones who had been in place when he’d left. The cook who had written to him and the family of servants who had maintained the property for the years it had remained vacant.

  The thought of telling Blair that he might lose this home due to his inability to understand basic numbers and letters wrenched at his side any time he thought about it. It was a physical pain which made his stomach burn. They were just developing a friendship, and he couldn’t let her know there was a possibility that, at least in England, he couldn’t provide a home and safety for her.

  He’d pulled the men aside and discussed walking the estate this afternoon to make certain if someone had been following them, they would have a plan. He also gave strict instructions that until they’d discovered what the threat was, his wife should be accompanied anytime she left the house. As he’d done so, Blair had slipped from the room with the housekeeper.

  “I feel the need to visit the sanctuary. Is there a priest in residence?” Robbie paced around the room. He appeared more nervous than he had the whole journey, which was saying a lot, because the lad always looked as if the devil were after him.

  “Aye, but I’m afraid he is only here for mass for the few servants on hand.”

  “Is he in the village?”

  “He should be. But if ye want go to check the chapel, mayhap he is here now. The rest of ye may explore until Blair has some rooms ready for ye. I need to pen a missive to my father and brothers to inform them that I have arrived.

  As Robbie departed toward the chapel, the men followed, and Finlay found himself wandering toward his office and sitting at the large mahogany desk his father had picked out for him. Finlay’s hand glided across the smooth surface, but then he coughed as dust flew into the air.

  Anger assailed him. What the hell had been going on while he was gone? This place was supposed to be running itself, but nothing had been done.

  Banging his fist on the desk, he tightened his resolve and got to work. Upon sticking the quill into the inkpot, he discovered the ink had dried. Cursing, he wondered how he was going to manage in this place without help.

  He called for Andrew and requested a new pot of ink. It took only moments for the butler to track one down and return.

  “What excuse did the estate manager give for not procuring the help ye need?”

  “He said it was because the war had taken many able-bodied men from the villages to the battlefield.”

  “Even though the battles have stayed to the south?”

  “Yes, my lord, but there is talk of spontaneous skirmishes about the countryside. It might be best to keep your new wife close to the estate until she knows her way around.”

  “Ye are probably correct. I’ll have the Cameron men stay a while and keep watch.” He’d heard awful stories of neighbors turning on neighbors. “Have ye had any problems with the Puritans coming onto our lands?” He ran his fingers through his hair to relieve some of the stress that made his temples ache.

  “No sir, it has been peaceful out here in the country.”

  “Good. Thank ye for the ink, Andrew.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” The butler moved seamlessly through the door, shutting it without a sound.

  Settling back in, Finlay began the missive to his father. He kept it short, but it still felt as if it took hours to write it out. He’d thought about asking Andrew to do it for him, but he didn’t want to appear ignorant.

  Dearest Father,

  I have returned and brought a wife. Please join us Friday for dinner. We have much to discuss.

  Your devoted son,

  Finlay

  He then penned two similar letters to his brothers. Once they were all assembled they would discuss the best way to get the news to the king.

  The next letter, to his estate manager, took the longest.

  Mr. Garrick,

  I am in residence at Catriona House. I request your appearance tomorrow, Thursday. Please be prepared to review the account books so that we can determine what needs to be done to get the house and its holdings in order.

  Finlay Cameron

  The thought of poring over mixed up, jumbled numbers and letters with Mr. Garrick gave him an awful pounding in the head. Standing, he strolled over to the well-stocked cabinet that seemed out of place, considering the condition of the rest of the estate. Shaking off the notion the house was cursed, he poured a serving of whisky, thankful that at least something in this forsaken place had not spoiled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blair followed Jenny up the ornate steps to find herself standing in a corridor only slightly smaller than the one downstairs. Each room off to the side had massive wooden doors whose frames were intricately carved and decorated. Rugs lined the floor. They’d at one time been beautiful, but under the darkness of the closed doors, drawn curtains, and dust, she wasn’t certain if they could be salvaged.

  “This is the way to the master’s bedroom,” Jenny said and led her to the back of the house. She’d expected it to be toward the front, so that any guests arriving could be seen from the room.

  “How long has it been since someone has used it?”

  “To the best of my knowledge, it has never been used.” The woman must be mistaken.

  “How long have ye been here?”

  “My father came to work here when I was just a wee thing.”

  How was it possible this magnificent house had remained empty for so long?

  Jenny pushed in the door, and Blair followed. Not able to see much because of the thick drapes that blocked out the sun, she moved into the room cautiously.

  “Can we open up the curtains and see what kind of shape it’s in?”

  With the thick material drawn back, light filtered into the room, but motes of dust danced in the freshly disturbed air. Coughing, she said, “I think we should also open the windows. This place needs fresh air.”

  The massive Venetian window didn’t budge. Jenny stepped beside her, and they heaved together. Blair almost fell when the window flew up, exposing a terrace she might have seen sooner, had the windows not been covered with years of grime.

  Stepping out onto the balcony, she was astonished to see an artfully arranged garden similar to one she’d seen in Edinburgh, but on a much grander scale. It looked in need of pruning and shaping, but the bones of it breathed in her a new hope that maybe not everything was beyond repair.

  Her attention riveted to the gentle rolling hills extending as far as she could see, wild lavender growing on them in purples and blues. It was breathtaking and reminded her of home. She caught a hint of the scent of the fragrant flower in the breeze that tickled her skin.

  “Are you all right, my lady?”

  “Oh, aye.” She hadn’t realized she’d been staring. “Let’s get the other one open.”

  Once they had the room airing, Blair turned her attention to the bedding. “Well, there isnae much we can do on short notice, but at least we can strip the beds. Beat the bedding to clear the dust and put them back on.”

  Jenny looked at her with pleased, eager eyes, seeming happy to have a purpose.

  “How many servants are on hand?”

  She blushed. “Not many, my lady. They were supposed to be hired, but none have shown.”

  “Hmm. What about the lads I saw earlier?”

  “They ar
e my boys.” A hint of pride twinkled in Jenny’s eyes.

  “Well then, they can help us. We will open all the windows, take care of the bedding, and have them wipe down all the surfaces with a damp cloth.”

  Several hours later, Blair walked into the dining room exhausted, but pleased they had been able to make accommodations fairly presentable for their large group, at least for tonight. Jenny and she had a lot of work ahead of them.

  …

  Finlay was on his second dram of whisky when his wife strolled into the dining room. Tendrils of her soft hair tumbled loose from the elaborate braid she’d pleated this morning, and dirt smudged the edges of her new gown. Her face, bonny as ever, was drawn and tired.

  Och, he should have stayed longer last year to ensure the estate manager had done his job and hired a proper staff for the place. Blair was with child and hadn’t even had a chance to rest after their long journey.

  At least he’d had a chance to walk the grounds with the Cameron men, and there was no sign that anyone had followed them. He’d also alerted what few servants were on hand to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.

  Letting out a long, frustrated breath, he took another swig of the amber liquid as she walked toward him and eased into the chair to his right. “Where is everyone?” She looked worried.

  “There didnae seem to be much in the kitchen, so they’ve gone into the village to eat at the tavern tonight.”

  That was another thing that cut to the bone. This was supposed to be his house, but he couldn’t even manage to offer his friends a meal.

  She frowned. “With yer permission, I can go into the village tomorrow to see to it ye have the proper staff. I managed the help at my father’s castle. I cannae imagine ’tis too different here.”

  The idea of her going into the village without him was preposterous. What if the war really had reached this area? He didn’t want his wife out of his sight until he knew the countryside and village was safe. So he said, “I was hoping to be able to show ye around tomorrow, but we do need more people. I’m expecting company in the afternoon, so we cannae be gone long.”

  “It shouldnae be too hard to find those in need of a good job.”

  Andrew strode into the room holding a tray containing two plates. There was a twinkle in his eyes Finlay had never seen before—the servant seemed pleased to finally have a family in residence. The man had occasionally filled in at his father’s house when the butler there had health problems. Over the years, Finlay had somehow managed to form a bond with the older man.

  “’Tis what I thought, but mayhap there is a drought of able-bodied people in the village.”

  “We shall see tomorrow.”

  Andrew set a plate down in front of him then, Blair.

  “Thank ye,” she said and smiled at the man. He nodded, pleasure evident in the tilt of his head and the confidence in his step.

  “I have rooms prepared for everyone. Will they return tonight?”

  The butler placed cups of a red liquid in front of both of them.

  “Aye.”

  “I’ll have Jenny wait up to show them to their rooms then.” Blair smiled at Andrew, and the butler dipped his head.

  He lowered his spoon into the stew—a kind of meat, likely venison, with root vegetables and a broth. It was fair, but nothing compared to what the cook at his father’s home could do, or perhaps it was the lack of supplies that dulled the taste. Maybe after things were settled and during their time in Scotland, the man could train some with his father’s cook. The distance wasn’t so great that he couldn’t afford to go a couple times a week for a lesson.

  Blair eyed her spoonful then brought it up to her nose to smell before taking a sip.

  “I spoke to the cook earlier. I let him ken ye cannae have anything with cheese.”

  “Thank ye. I havenae had the chance to meet him yet. Does he seem competent?”

  “Aye, he will do.”

  “Ye will need a gardener as well. Ye have the most marvelous start to a garden behind the house. Beautiful shrubbery. It just needs some pruning and care.”

  “Did ye spy a place for yer peach tree?”

  “Nae, I had forgotten. Oh, but there are also the most wonderful meadows filled with lavender.”

  That reminded him. “There is a story behind this estate.”

  Her eyes lit. “What is it?”

  “My father built it for my mother in hopes that one day she would come to England to live with him.”

  “That explains why no one has stayed, and why there is no’ much staff. It must have cost him a fortune.”

  “’Tis why my stepmother hated me. I reminded her of the woman who held my father’s affections.”

  “And ye say yer mother loved him as well?”

  “Aye.”

  “But she wouldnae join him?”

  “Nae. She wouldnae live as a mistress.”

  “Why did he no’ ask her to marry him?” Blair took a sip of what he’d discovered was a pleasant spiced wine.

  “He couldn’t. A contract had already been signed promising that he and my stepmother would be wed, but my father always held out hope that one day she would bring me down and join him.”

  “And now that yer stepmother has passed? Will yer mother join him?”

  “Apparently, he wrote to her and she refused. ’Tis why he finally gifted the estate to me. He gave up hope.”

  Blair’s eyes saddened.

  “They are both very stubborn, but because of it, ye and I have gained this.” He waved his arms to indicate the home.

  “I am quite looking forward to exploring.”

  “I havenae even seen it all yet.”

  “Mayhap we can tour it together?” Her eyes sparkled again, and he found himself enthusiastic for the first time to explore his new home. Eager to lay his wife down in each room and plunge into her warm body, claim every space as his hands roamed up and down her curves while she made those breathless, panting noises beneath him. Truly make this their home and no one else’s.

  His blood pumped faster, and he licked his lips. “Mayhap we can.”

  “Mayhap after yer guest leaves tomorrow. Och, how long will we need to entertain the men who came with us?”

  “My guess is they willnae stay long, but I think we will need to stay longer than originally intended. Once we get a proper staff hired and make sure everything is in order we can go back to Scotland.”

  “Aye. I have yet to meet yer mother.” At least she didn’t say she wanted to leave right away.

  After she set her cup down for the last time, he rose and took her hand. Thoughts of lying in bed with his wife had been plaguing him all day. It was time he took her to their chamber and spent the night exploring her body.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Finlay locked the door as they strolled into their bedroom for the first time together. Blair blushed with anticipation as she thought about what the night might bring.

  “Wife,” came his husky words.

  “Aye, husband.”

  “I’ve thought of much today, but the only thing that has kept me sane was knowing I could hold ye in my arms tonight.”

  Suddenly, his hands were on her, unfastening her clothes, then removing his; the clothing was scattered and left discarded in a pile on the floor. Having backed her to the bed, he laid her down and spent what felt like glorious hours touching and teasing her, driving his hard body into hers until they were left in a tangled, satisfied mess.

  A storm had moved in, but as the pounding rain hit the window in a steady rhythm, his body relaxed and his breathing slowed. He drifted off to sleep. Wedded life had its benefits other than alliances and heirs. She was starting to feel close to this man, as if they could be friends. He might even come to view her as a partner.

  Sated and sleepy, she heard Jenny show the Cameron men to their rooms. Thankful they were in for the evening and had been cared for, she felt she could finally fall asleep. But then she saw a flash through the edge
s of the curtains, followed by a large boom.

  Glad Jenny and she had closed the windows in all the rooms before heading down for dinner, she snuggled deeper into the blankets, seeking the refuge of her husband’s warmth. The soft sounds of dripping alerted her to a leak. She lit the candle by the bed and rose to try to find it before more damage could be done. She hurried into the adjoining room then on to a room intended for a nursery, where she discovered a large puddle of water near the window. Drops were landing on the hardwood floor, soaking the edge of the rug centered in the room.

  After running back to the main room, she grabbed the basin she’d brought up earlier for cleaning and returned to the leak. She slipped, falling backward and bumping her head on the uncovered ground. The basin clanged to the floor. Her candle sputtered, the flame dying as it joined her and the pot.

  Seconds later, Finlay rushed into the room, a sword in his hands. She was only able to make him out because the curtains were open, and a flash of lightening illuminated the room.

  “’Tis only me,” she called before he mistook her for an intruder.

  “What are ye doing?” He sounded angry, as if he didn’t trust her. Why would he still doubt her loyalty?

  “I slipped. There is a leak, and I thought to put the basin under to catch it.”

  He placed his sword on the dressing table then returned to stretch out his hand and pull her up. Once she was on her feet, his arm circled her. “Hell, ye are soaked.”

  “Aye. I told ye ’twas leaking.”

  “Wait here,” Finlay instructed and darted from the room.

  “Here. Hold this.” Breaking into her thoughts, he handed her a new, lit candle, and she held it out to illuminate the wet spot. He muttered under his breath, and although she couldn’t make out the words, he was clearly angry. She imagined he had not anticipated all the issues that might come with the house once his father passed it along.

  After placing the basin under the leak, he moved to the small bed set aside for a child and yanked the blankets off. He used the material to sop up the wet mess on the floor.

  “Let’s go back to bed. We’ll see to it in the morning.” Taking the candle, he placed his large hand on the small of her back. His touch was warm through the wet material as he guided her through the chamber.