“Find me a bottle and I will ex—”
“No bottle, Father,” Ian said. “I will send MacAdams to you with a document that voids the changes you made to your will. You will sign and seal it.”
Craigmuir sat up. “I need my whiskey!” he roared.
Ian stared at the man in front of him, hardly recognizing his own father. He turned to leave, but caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye that suddenly flitted away. It was a filmy shape that hovered near the ceiling. Gesu, he must be going daft.
He left his father’s room, blocking out the invectives hurled at him by the duke.
* * *
Lucy did not check on her aunt. Still shaken by the day’s events, she wanted to hide somewhere.
Craigmuir Castle was expansive enough that she should be able to find some place where she could get away from everyone. Unfortunately, it would not be quite so easy to escape her thoughts.
She hurried through a long corridor that led to the kitchen. Bypassing the aroma of food cooking in the ovens, she kept on going until she reached a staircase she’d never seen before.
She climbed the steps, hoping to find the castle solar, the room where the chatelaine of the castle and her maids would sew and work on embroidery with the abundant light.
There were muffled voices behind one of the doors which opened suddenly. Broxburn stepped out and stopped, leaning his back against the wall. He was clearly disturbed.
Lucy decided to retreat and made a quick turn to head to the stairs. But she did not manage to get away unseen.
“Sassenach.”
She stopped.
“I hope you are not intentionally trying to avoid me.” He ambled toward her as though he had no cares whatsoever, and all the time in the world. She could bolt to avoid him, but she knew he would catch her before she could make it down the staircase.
“Of course not,” she retorted. “I just did not want to intrude.”
“I thought you were going to check on your aunt.”
She hesitated for a moment. “I changed my mind.”
Lucy’s breath quickened as he came closer, and the fine hairs on her skin tingled. It was an odd sensation, one she’d never felt before. It was as though she hadn’t been fully alive before.
“What did you think you’d find up here?”
“The solar?”
One side of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Is that a question?”
“No, I— Well, yes. I thought I’d seen some large windows over this way…” They were alone again, and all he would have to do was lean forward slightly to kiss her. He did move closer—
“You were right,” he said. His voice was low and virile, and it sizzled through her, singeing all her nerves. “The solar is at the end of this corridor and up that staircase.”
He backed away, then took himself down the staircase, leaving Lucy alone at the top of the stairs, her hand pressed against her heart.
What had she been thinking? Of another kiss? Of his intimate touch? This was the last thing she should want. And yet her body hummed with desire for his touch, to feel his lips upon hers. Every nerve was on fire, and she feared the only way to put out the flames was to satisfy her longing.
She took a deep breath and made her way to the solar. She needed a few moments’ peace.
* * *
Ian forced himself to leave Lucy, though it was the last thing he wanted. He went down the stairs, but before he could begin looking for his father’s steward, he became distracted by the muffled sounds of a struggle in a back passageway. He followed the noise to a storage room where the door was ajar. He shoved it open to find Duncan ravaging the red-haired serving maid. She was pleading with him to stop.
Ian pulled him off the girl and delivered a sharp blow to his cousin’s cheek, knocking him to the floor.
The maid shoved her skirts down and ran for the door. Ian caught only a glimpse of her tear-stained face. “Go and stay with Mrs. Kilgore, Aileen,” Ian said. “My cousin is leaving the castle.”
Duncan rose to his feet, gingerly touching his face. “Well, God damn you, Ian.”
“Damn me all you like, but it will not change anything,” Ian said, barely restraining his temper. When Duncan began fastening his trews, Ian saw red. “Get out. And stay out. If I find you’ve ventured again onto Broxburn or Craigmuir lands, I will have your arse imprisoned for trespassing.”
“You cannot—”
“Try me.” Ian was dead serious. Now, more than ever, he would see to it that his father removed his despicable cousin from receiving anything but Ian’s largesse. Oh, he would make sure his cousin and aunt had enough to live on and maintain Brodie House, but no more than that.
“What about your precious tile business?”
“You’ll have no part of it.” Ian struggled to keep his fists at his sides. No one abused the staff in his house. Not his father, not his cousin. “Get out of my sight. Go back to Brodie House. Now.”
Ian followed him to his room and stood with his hands folded across his chest while Duncan tossed his belongings into a valise. “You will regret this, Broxburn.”
“I don’t see how, but believe it if it humors you.”
Duncan growled under his breath and fastened his bag. He pushed past Ian and left the room, skipping down the staircase as fast as he could go.
Ian spoke to a footman in the great hall. “Nial, go with Mr. Munro to the stable and see that he does not abuse any of the grooms when they saddle his horse.”
“My lord?”
“You heard correctly, Nial,” Ian said. “Stay until you see him out the gate.”
“Yes, my lord,” the footman replied, and trotted off to follow Duncan out of the hall.
Lockhart came to the door just then. “Is aught amiss?”
“Not any more,” Ian replied, fuming. He felt like following Duncan out to the stable and making sure the lesson had been learned. He’d never felt such violence toward another man before, but when he considered that Duncan might have come upon Lucy wandering alone... It was bad enough that he’d accosted an innocent maid. A pleasant one, from what Ian knew of her.
“Lockhart, from here on, Duncan Munro is banned from Craigmuir. If anyone sees him tresspassing on our lands, they are to detain him and come for me.”
“My lord?”
“He is forbidden on Craigmuir and Broxburn lands,” Ian said. “Make the servants aware of it, and see that I am notified if he turns up. Force is to be used if he trespasses.”
“Yes, my lord. Of course,” Lockhart said.
“Have you seen MacAdams?”
“I believe he is in his quarters.”
“Send someone for him and have him meet me in the library, please.”
Ian knew he had done the right thing, not only with Duncan, but with Lucy Stillwater. He’d wanted to pull her into the solar himself and ravish her there. He’d wanted to forget his responsibilities to the estate and to his father, and slake the desire that continuously whirred just beneath his surface.
Why couldn’t he feel this kind of lust for Kathryn Hay? She was wealthy and beautiful, she was Scottish, and her parents had obviously brought her to Craigmuir Castle in pursuit of a courtship, if not a betrothal.
While Lucy Stillwater could hardly wait to get away from him. As intrigued as she was by the castle’s antiquity and its ghosts, Ian did not doubt she wanted to leave for Edinburgh as soon as possible.
She was in love with an Englishman. And yet her kisses had been anything but indifferent. She’d melted into him, and she could not have given him more without fully consummating the act. Thank God he’d come to his senses, or this time he actually would have had to propose.
He went into his father’s library and waited for MacAdams, who arrived a few minutes later. Even so, the business at hand could not eliminate Lucy Stillwater from his mind.
“What can I do for you, my lord?” MacAdams asked when Lockhart left the room.
“I w
ant you to write up a document rescinding the most recent changes to my father’s will.”
“Are you sure, Broxburn?”
Ian took care not to let his annoyance show. “Yes, I am sure. My father is ill, MacAdams, and forgot how reckless my cousin’s spending is. He realizes his mistake now and wants to return things to the way they were.”
“Very good, my lord,” MacAdams said. “I will admit I did have some concerns with the changes he made, but I could not dissuade him. Young Mr. Munro has not the best hand with money…or any kind of responsibility. I would hate to see those properties run into the ground.”
Ian nodded, glad to have MacAdams’s agreement. “Just write the document and we can have the duke sign and seal it. I’ll take it to Selkirk myself if need be.”
“Can’t Ferguson go in your stead?” MacAdams asked. “Surely Mr. Drummond will recognize him and know that he is a sanctioned agent of the duke.”
Ian nodded. “Aye. And there are farms for him to visit on his way back.”
“I cannot tell you how very important those new orders are to the estate, my lord.”
Ian rubbed the back of his neck. “I appreciate your summoning me when you did, MacAdams. The estate is in more serious trouble than I could have imagined, but I fear we will not be able to turn our finances around, even with the new kiln,” he said, forcing thoughts of Lucy Stillwater away. In spite of the passion she aroused in him, she was a wave of calm in what had become a sea of chaos. He had no desire to entertain Auchengrey and his family even for a night. He wanted to see the back of Duncan and never light eyes upon him again. He wanted his father to be sober and rational again.
“I must apologize for going forward with His Grace’s previous orders without consulting you first, my lord,” MacAdams said as he put his pen to the vellum sheet on the desk.
“No, no, MacAdams,” Ian said. “I know how my father can be, and you did all you could.” He watched the aging steward write out the changes, reverting the duke’s will to the one that had existed for years.
When the document was finished, Ian went up to his father’s bedchamber with MacAdams. They had no difficulty getting him to sign, and when the document had been closed with his seal, MacAdams took it and went in search of Ferguson.
And Ian headed for the solar.
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Even those few minutes alone in the solar did naught to clear Lucy’s head. Ian’s seduction had shifted her world on its axis. Before the carriage accident, all she’d wanted was to get through her exile in Edinburgh and return home where she belonged. Away from the beautiful hills and glens, the ancient castles, the alluring Scotsman and his heart-stirring touch.
Even now, she was trembling after their brief meeting on the stairs. And Broxburn had not even touched her. She purposefully calmed her breathing and walked to the window, hardly noticing anything in the room. She saw Broxburn’s cousin on horseback, his expression grim, galloping through the courtyard as though the devil himself were on his heels.
She wondered where he was going in such a hurry, and welcomed the distraction from her own tangled thoughts. If only she could leave Craigmuir Castle, she might be able to get her mind in order.
She would most assuredly begin to think of Joshua Parris again and the future she had always planned with him.
Leaving the solar, she went down to the next floor but saw Broxburn with a white-haired man coming out of the same bedchamber she’d seen him leaving before. His father’s room, most likely. She stepped back, allowing them to leave without seeing her.
She could not face him at the moment. Not without feeling that disturbing melting sensation that always accompanied their encounters.
Once he was gone, she made her way to her aunt’s bedroom, where Dr. Henderson was talking with her. He seemed to be in the midst of asking her numerous mundane questions, all of which annoyed Arden.
“Yes, of course I remember my mother’s name, you dolt! She was Caroline Merton, daughter of the Earl of Mobray.”
“Very good, my lady,” Henderson said, somewhat piqued at being called a dolt. But that was Aunt Arden. “I deem you fit to travel.”
“What? Because I can answer your foolish questions?”
“Precisely,” he said, turning away to pick up his hat. “Now that I know your brain is functioning at its normal capacity,” he cleared his throat, “you may plan to leave upon the morrow.”
She clucked her tongue.
“Just take care with that arm, Lady Kildrum. Good day to you.” Dr. Henderson left the room and Lucy felt relief and dismay, all at once. She was anxious to leave, and yet it gave her pause, knowing she would never again feel the raw excitement of Broxburn’s touch.
She shook her head. No, no – that was all wrong. She was waiting for the moment when she would see Joshua Parris again. It would be a desperately long four mouths until she could return to the home and the people she loved, but to her dismay, the thought of Joshua did not bring about the usual wave of longing.
It had to be due to her worry over Arden’s health, though she could not deny the turmoil Lord Broxburn caused her.
She had never felt such an intense quickening in her nether parts, nor such a deep connection to anyone. The look in Broxburn’s eyes had been altogether enthralling, a look she’d never seen in Joshua’s eyes.
Lucy tamped down her doubts and took her leave, intending to stay in her room until their departure on the morrow, but Mrs. MacRae tapped on her bedroom door. “Miss Stillwater,” the housekeeper said, handing Lucy a note. “From Lady Kathryn.”
Lucy thanked the woman and took the note, retreating into her room. She could not imagine what the earl’s daughter would have to say to her in writing. Lucy unfolded the missive and read:
Dear Miss Stillwater, it was a great pleasure to see you again, and I hope we will have the opportunity to renew our friendship during my stay here at Craigmuir Castle. I am looking forward to seeing you at supper.
Yours,
Kathryn
P.S. My family and I do hope your aunt is improving steadily.
Lucy sat on the chair next to the fireplace and read the note again, wondering why Kathryn had sent it. She’d never heard of one guest sending a note like this to another, and she wished her sister, Meg, were there to help her gain some insight. Surely Lady Kathryn had plenty of friends.
Perhaps she was a bit shy now that she was actively pursuing Lord Broxton. It was quite obvious her parents were interested in snagging the marquess, but Kathryn had not seemed quite as enthralled by the idea.
Or maybe Lucy was imagining things. Because what woman in her right mind wouldn’t be attracted to Broxburn’s masculine charm?
* * *
Ian did not find Lucy in the solar. He had to admit that was fortuitous, for – truth be told – he was in a foul mood. Dealing with his father and worrying about the condition of the estate was enough to sour any man’s mood.
He caught Kindale in his bedchamber just as he was preparing to leave for Edinburgh. “I have a favor to ask, Malcolm,” he said. “And it is not small.”
“What do you need?”
“I hesitate—”
“Don’t. Just tell me what you need,” Malcolm repeated.
“Stay until tomorrow.”
A wry grin spread across Malcolm’s face. “Ah.”
“Come to supper tonight and…”
“And?”
“You know,” Ian said. “Help deflect Auchengrey’s attention from me.”
“As a candidate for his daughter’s hand?”
Ian nodded. “I am not ready. My father is ill, and the duchess…You know she has not been well for some time, and her condition seems to be worsening.”
“Of course. Your parents must be your priority now.”
“Thank you, Malcolm. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“Say nothing of it,” Malcolm said. “What about Miss Stillwater?”
“Miss Stillwater?”
Malcolm chuckled. “I’ve known you a long time, my friend. And I have never seen you look at a woman the way—”
“She is spoken for.”
Malcolm raised a brow.
“She told me. About Parris,” Ian said. “Well, not in so many words, but she was clear—”
“And that is supposed to stop you?”
“Malcolm, I have a lot more to worry about than women at the moment.” He jabbed his fingers through his hair. “My father changed his will.”
“What? No.”
“Yes,” Ian replied. “He bequeathed the Brodie property to Duncan, as well as the two other estates north of Edinburgh.”
“He will ruin them.”
“Aye.”
“What will you do?”
“MacAdams and Ferguson are dealing with it,” Ian said “I believe the problem will be solved in short order.”
“So, what about Miss Stillwater?”
Ian sat down on a chair near the window “I…” He did not know what to say, so he shrugged.
Malcolm took the seat across from him and spoke quietly. “Yes, perhaps the timing just isn’t right. There will be other opportunities, Ian.”
Bad timing. Other opportunities.
Perhaps, but Ian did not think he would be able to banish Lucy Stillwater from his mind in the near future. If ever.
He realized Malcolm was attempting to be supportive, but his friend did not know all the issues that plagued him. Ian still could not bring himself to tell Malcolm about his bastardy. He cringed at the thought of how his friends would treat him if they knew the truth of his parentage.
But he hated the lie, too. He was a fraud.
It was doubtful that the truth would ever come out, but he knew it. He would always know it.
He wanted to understand how it had come about – his father’s seduction of the Irish maid. Had it been an affair of the heart? Or had he taken advantage of her the way Duncan had done with Aileen? Such behavior was unconscionable, and the idea that Ian might have been conceived in this vile manner was despicable.
At least his father had seen fit to create the charade that had become Ian’s life. While it had obviously disgusted the duchess, it had likely saved Ian’s life. Had he not been claimed by his father, he might well have died, along with the Irish maid. His mother.
Lucy and Her Scottish Laird Page 12
