There was that, at least. However, Connor’s pursuit wasn’t what she was referring to and she reminded her friend of that. “You forget there are reasons I’ve gone through all of this, Jane.”
They might all forget. Regrettably, Piper could not. Wrapping her reins around her gloved fist, she kicked her horse into a canter. “Let’s go, Dandy.”
As she said the name, Piper remembered Harry’s laughter when she’d dubbed the palomino with the whimsical appellation. Dandelion for his golden coat. A gift from her brother on her thirteenth birthday.
A brother she’d loved, adored. Mourned for. Now he was coming home to stay. Where did that leave her?
When she’d fled London, Piper had run to the single place where she’d known happiness. Dinton Grange. Longing for the comfort of home, praying she’d been wrong about Harry and that he would be there with open arms. In the beginning, she hadn’t hidden out in the gamekeeper’s cottage as she did now. No, she’d resided in the manor. In plain sight.
Given the enormity of the house, visitors often lost their way. Or someone could hide without detection for weeks at a time with no one the wiser. Hilde and Mrs. Davies had sheltered her from Mr. Larkin’s notice easily enough, prepared to reveal her presence to Harry should he arrive. Initially, they’d been the only ones who knew she was there. Little by little, the household staff learned of her presence…
And who she’d run from.
Servants shared gossip more quickly than a fox evading the hunt. Most were far more cognizant of Rutledge’s reputation than Piper had been. Sacrificing her to the proclivities of a monster such as Viscount Dormer hadn’t been an option for any of them. From the start, they all wanted to let her brother know where she was. Her harried state and fear of discovery had checked that inclination. When visits or queries from him failed to materialize, they’d come to believe, as she did, that Harry favored the marriage. With their assistance, she’d lived right under Celeste’s nose when her mother arrived to scour the area for her a month later. Loosely speaking. Her mother never condescended to visit the kitchens, or the service wing at all. Never deigned to address the staff directly beyond Mrs. Davies, for that matter. A fair percentage of the manor had been available to Piper even with her mother in residence.
It wasn’t until that summer when her mother retreated to lick her wounds after Rutledge publicly jilted her that Piper relocated to the cottage. Her mother would never conceive of her daughter living in what she would see as squalor. The move granted her more freedom. Although she still had to be careful, it suited her perfectly.
But for those wretched specters of fear and loneliness, she’d made it work. And of late, had begun to think one of those two negatives of her existence might be overcome by a dashing Scotsman.
Not once over the years had she ever considered fleeing somewhere farther afield. Then again, she’d never imagined that Harry might stay at the Grange permanently. Even with more than a day to think on it, the implication of his return hadn’t truly sunk in.
Until now. In less than a month, everything would change. How had she not considered that?
She wouldn’t be able to continue on so brazenly when Harry and his wife were in residence. The new marchioness might frequent the kitchens or Mrs. Davies’s office. No more baking with Hilde or having toast and chocolate with Edith, Martha and the other maids. No long talks with Mrs. Davies. Even visiting the stables would become a risk for her as Harry had always been an avid horse lover.
Having already lost her home, Piper realized she was also about to lose her family.
There would be no place for her here any longer. What would she do? Where could she go?
“Piper, stop!”
Jane’s call broke through the thunder of hoof beats and the whistle of the wind. Dashing the back of her hand over her eyes, Piper did as her friend bade and eased back on the reins until Dandy came to a reluctant halt, prancing in a circle like the society peacocks Harry teased the horse should have been named for.
Gad, was she not even to have Dandy for herself any longer? The one luxury she hadn’t been able to deny herself all this time. Fiona had taken to riding him while she was here. If he were to go missing from the stables, her brother would surely notice.
“What am I to do, Jane?” she lamented when her friend caught up with her. Jane’s cheeks were pink from the wind, wisps of her normally elegantly coiffed blonde curls strayed across her forehead.
Was she to lose this as well? What would be left for her?
“Reveal yourself to your brother.” Jane reached over to clasp Piper’s hand. “He will be glad for it, I promise. As will you.”
“What if…?” The nauseating thought sent Piper’s heart off a beat and she swallowed hard. Her voice thickened with worry. “What if he tells Mother?”
“He won’t. I understand your reasons for not doing so back then. His lack of response was appalling, but time changes everyone. Trust him now.”
A series of solid whacks and shouts rang through the air. They both pivoted in their saddles to see a group of men nearby amid a series of felled trees. They chained off a grubbed stump and laced it through a series of pulleys. A team of eight Clydesdales stood at the ready to drag the stump out while a half dozen men with pick axes would chop away smaller, uncut roots as it was pried from the ground. She’d seen the process many times over the summer from a greater distance. She was much closer today.
Close enough to spot Connor at their center, calling out orders. A surge of something she couldn’t quite define caught her breath. Happiness? Joy? Odd reactions to a man she’d be wise to be cautious of.
Neither of those emotions typically spurred her heart to a sudden gallop. The drop in temperature didn’t seem to have affected Connor. Or perhaps the smoldering fires burning roots in other pits around them warmed him sufficiently enough to prompt him to shed his shirt. Even from a distance, she could see his broad shoulders glistening in the sun.
“Oh dear.” Jane averted her eyes as a proper young lady should, but Piper found herself lacking the will to do the same.
The chilly afternoon seemed to abruptly recall the heat of two days past in that moment. A hot flush crept up her bosom as if she’d been scorched by the sun, a muted whirring filled her ears like the song of the now dormant cicadas. Connor straightened and removed his hat to wipe his brow with the back of his arm. As if sensing their presence, he rotated in their direction.
Piper’s heart knocked against her chest at the sight of his. Bronzed by the sun. Below the smooth expanse of his chest, thick bands of muscle stretched over his ribs then rippled like waves down his abdomen. Each defined by the play of sunlight and shadow. Her mouth went dry and her fingers tingled. She rubbed them together wondering if his skin were as satiny as it appeared.
“I best be off.” Jane wheeled her horse away. “I’m sure the distance is too great for him to recognize me, though I’d rather he not have the opportunity. If he sees us together, I shall be subjected to yet another gentleman accosting me at balls with questions of you.”
Piper hardly blinked, unable to gather a single coherent thought. “Jane…”
“You know, it might be nice to be pursued by a gentleman for something more than information.” Her friend smiled to soften the criticism. “If Mr. MacKintosh were to approach me, I’d like to enjoy the thought for at least a moment that he had more on his mind than you.”
Finally, Piper tore her eyes away from him. “I assure you, he thinks nothing of me.”
While her thoughts had lingered rather persistently upon him. On the kiss that both shocked and delighted her. On their conversation. On his offer of assistance. On his teasing banter and quiet reassurances…
But mostly on that kiss.
The barest brush of his lips across hers, light as the tickle of a feather. It had set her heart aflutter and thoughts askew.
And ended far too soon.
She hadn’t mentioned it to Jane, rather hugged it to herself.
There was undeniable joy to be found in the opportunity to be herself with someone who hadn’t known her since she was in nappies. More in the freedom to engage in light flirtation.
Far more in Connor MacKintosh’s kiss.
Her first kiss…
No, not the first.
The memory knocked at the corner of her mind, and the door she carefully kept closed to lock it away opened. Just a crack, but enough to douse her pleasure.
Pursing her lips, Piper guided Dandy in a circle and followed Jane back up the path until they were out of sight of the workers. As they rode, she considered the gossip she’d heard about Connor compared to what she’d seen for herself. The crofters, many of whom Piper had known since birth, gave him their full attention. Showed open respect to a man they’d known only a short while.
He’d requested nothing more than her trust. To share her burden much as he shared theirs. He didn’t falter under the strain of hard work. Logic might demand her continued wariness. Instinct said he wouldn’t fail her either.
* * *
Connor snatched up his shirt and yanked it over his head. Bugger it if he hadn’t felt suddenly self-conscious to find Mrs. Milbourne watching him from the rise adjacent to his worksite. She’d given no indication that she observed him specifically. The distance prevented him from identifying where her regard was directed. Even knowing that, his bare flesh tingled as if under the tender ministrations of a lover’s caress.
Thoughts of her had consumed him since their last encounter. That brief, chaste kiss haunted him. As had the idiocy that had driven her away. The former made sleep bloody well impossible with the sweet taste of her lips driving him mad with desire. The latter clouded his days, wishing he could take back all that he’d said.
Nay, not all. His offer to ease her troubles where he could had been sincere, as had his plea for her trust. The lass needed a man. Perhaps not a protector or even a lover, but a steady arm to support her, a ready ear to hear her, and a friend to share her woes. Could be she had friends aplenty and all the bolstering she’d ever need. Still, he’d gotten the impression that a life of hiding had left her lonely for company.
On the other hand, that might have simply been him. He’d managed to gain the respect of Aylesbury’s cottagers through damned hard work. Regardless, he was not one of them. He was an outsider among families that had lived and worked together for generations. A Scot to boot. Not lord of the house, not a tenant. Not a friend to them.
He was bloody tired of his own company after months of the same. Soon enough, Fiona and Aylesbury would return to provide him some distraction from the rather tempting one lingering in his mind.
The good Lord knew uprooting trees hadn’t left him exhausted enough to do the trick, though Connor was proud of the progress they’d made. They’d cleared more land than originally planned. This last line of oaks would see the job done. The rest of the men were digging irrigation canals to feed the new farmland. Aylesbury would add almost a hundred acres more than the five hundred Connor had promised to his spring planting.
“Nay, no’ those,” he barked, seeing the direction the men wielding the axes where headed. “Take these last few to this side of the slope.”
“I thought his lordship said we was to fell the south lands, m’lord.” One of the older men, Barney, who’d proven himself more of an observer than laborer of late, tugged off his cap to scratch his head.
Connor shook his head. “There’s nae point stripping bare what cannae be farmed. That section is uneven and hard to drain. Besides, it’s about balance, aye? As he keeps pastureland for grazing, his lordship will need a wildlife refuge for his huntsman if he wants venison on his table.”
The old cottager nodded slowly as if Connor had delivered sage knowledge. “I like me a good chunk of meat, I do.”
Another of the younger men chimed in. “The wife heard we was going to get a goat. Is that true, m’lord?”
Och, with the titles. They’d not give it up. “Aye, Tom. That ye will if I can convince his lordship to invest in them.”
Barney spit into the dirt. “Is that so? What would I want with a goat?”
Connor shook his head with a wry chuckle. He did enjoy the antics of crotchety old men. “Meat for yer table, Barney. I kent ye like a fair chunk, aye? Plenty of it if ye breed a pair and build up yer numbers. Plus, there’d be a ready supply of milk for those wi’ children. Cheese, too. Cheaper to keep than a cow.”
“What are we supposed to feed them?” Tom wanted to know. With six bairns already, the man’s enthusiasm for a continual source of milk was tempered by the economy only a member of a large family could understand.
“They eat grass, Tom. We’ve all plenty of that.”
Chapter 7
Christmas has passed and the new year looms with the darkness of the executioner’s hood. Harry is not coming. There, I have admitted it. No more prevarications, no hopefully’s or soon’s or hope at all is left within me. Whether he refuses to answer my letters because he agrees with Mother’s choice or doesn’t care, I don’t know.
~ from the diary of Piper Brudenall, December 1892
Connor turned, as they all did at the soft feminine voice to find Mrs. Milbourne perched upon her horse a few yards away. He hadn’t seen her circle back around and wondered how long she’d been watching them work and listening to their conversation. Thank God he’d put his shirt back on. The mere sight of the lass in her form-fitting black velvet habit, her ebony locks pulled back from her glowing face and tucked up beneath a jaunty wee cap stoked his blood. If the caress of her bonny blue eyes were to graze his naked body, he’d likely lose all conscious thought.
He managed a nod of greeting while his men tugged off their hats. “Mrs. Milbourne. What a welcome surprise.”
“Mr. MacKintosh.” She inclined her head regally in response before casting a slight smile on the others. “I was passing by and couldn’t help but stop to appreciate the progress you’ve made. Well done, all of you.”
The men beamed and a few awkward bows bobbed among them.
Except for Barney, who spit again with a scowl. “You shouldn’t be out and about a’tall, beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am.” He cast a glance at Connor and added, “Plenty of mud after the rain. Horse could lose his footing and take a spill.”
“Thank you for your concern, Barney.” She bent and held out her hand to him. He took it, clasping her small hand between his reverently. “You know I would never venture where I wasn’t confident of my safety.”
She squeezed his with another smile and he released her, offering a respectful a tug of his forelock that had Connor adopting the doddering old fart’s frown. Blast, there was a double meaning to her words. It wasn’t mud and rain they worried about, it was him. Did the lass have the whole bloody county safeguarding her?
“The day’s getting late and there is a lot of muck about,” he conceded. Aye, in more ways than one. “May I escort ye safely home, Mrs. Milbourne?”
Even as the courtesy passed his lips, Connor anticipated the same response she’d provided at the stables. A reflection of the suspicion she’d cast upon him the other day. Whatever it was about her that ensnared him and compelled his protection, her misgivings were too great for her to overcome.
Given that expectation, he was surprised when she inclined her head graciously. “I was hoping you might. Thank you.”
With long strides, he walked to where he’d hobbled his horse earlier near a narrow creek and under the shade of a tree a safe distance from those they’d felled. With each step, he was aware of the grumbles from the men he passed. They didn’t like it. Not one whit.
They didn’t have to like it. He did. The past two days without seeing her had felt longer than the months before. He saddled his gelding with swift efficiency, conscious of her lingering gaze. Aware his heart pounded like a callow lad’s at his first glimpse at a barmaid’s cleavage, he paused before mounting to tuck in his shirt and smooth back his hair in an attempt to regain so
me semblance of civility. Once astride, he rode back to the others, calling out crisp orders for the remainder of the day as he went.
Mrs. Milbourne kicked her horse into motion, leaving him to follow behind. As with their walk the other day, there was no precise destination implied by her direction for she headed not for Dinton Grange, any of the neighboring estates, or even the village of Aylesbury itself.
A reminder that he hadn’t yet been able to ascertain from whence she came.
“What do you expect the goats to eat, Mr. MacKintosh?” she asked when he drew alongside her.
“Ye said it yerself, lass. Grass.” She quirked a brow at him with a pucker of her lips, unappreciative of his sarcasm. Connor sighed. “I’ve hopes that I can convince the marquis to allow the cottagers to rotate them through his park.”
She blinked at him for a full five seconds then she bit her lip, not managing to catch the laughter before it spilled out. “That’s quite amusing, Mr. MacKintosh. Oh, you’re quite serious, aren’t you?”
“The estate has more than eight hundred acres of parkland and currently employs six gardeners to keep the lawns in check,” he said, disgruntled by her amusement. “Goats would manage that.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I had wondered…that is, the marquis has rarely made a personal appearance at Dinton Grange since his father’s death. The management of the estate and land has been left in Mr. Larkin’s hands all this time. Many were left wondering why Aylesbury would see fit to leave his wife’s brother in charge now.”
“I asked him.” Connor admitted to what he hadn’t even confessed to Fiona as yet. In his defense, his sister was easier to manage when she thought things were her own idea. Mrs. Milbourne’s eyes widened with open curiosity and he found himself explaining. “I’d been working alongside my brother’s steward for some time now, learning what I could to manage my own land. I’ve enjoyed the opportunity here to take what I’ve learned and implement some of the ideas my brother was hesitant to explore.”
A Question for the Ages (Questions for a Highlander Book 7) Page 7
