by Lara Temple
It was perverse. It had been a beautiful sunny day for his ride out to face his doom at McCrieffs’ and now that he was trying to capture his small corner of bliss, the world was leaking—the sky, the ground, the heather, his greatcoat, even his boots.
Poor Lochlear sensed his urgency and made good time across the glen even in the rain, his hooves sending up clumps of mud and heather. Despite the miles falling behind them, a superstitious fear clung to Benneit that he would never reach her, that she would disappear into a fold in the air, leaving only the memory she had imprinted on his heart and mind and body. Spirited away after the Summer’s Solstice like her magical mice.
But as he neared the Standing Stones he spotted the carriage and spurred Lochlear on. Dougal heard his shout and pulled on the reins, and the carriage drew to a halt on the side of the road where a track led off towards the stones.
‘Your Grace! Is aught wrong?’ Dougal asked.
‘Yes. You are pointed in the wrong direction, Dougal. I’ll have a word with Mrs Langdale while you find a spot to turn. Take Lochlear for me, will you, Ewan?’
Ewan jumped down from the box and took the reins, his jaw slack, but Benneit ignored him and went to open the carriage door. Jo sat in the corner, very straight, her eyes wide and blank. He knew that look.
He held out his hand.
‘Dougal must turn the carriage and this is a rather narrow road, so despite the rain you are safer on terra firma with me than inside.’
‘Is there an obstruction on the road that necessitates our taking a different route to Glasgow, Your Grace?’
‘You are not going to Glasgow. You are returning to Lochmore. If you wish to discuss this here with Dougal and Ewan as audience, I will, Jo, but I prefer not to keep the horses standing for longer than necessary in this weather. Come.’
She did not move and he sighed and began climbing in.
‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, very well, outside, then.’
He stepped back out and held out his hand. She ignored it and used the door to help her jump down on to the road. He motioned her towards the track to the standing stones and she strode ahead, her mouth prim and her chin up, the proud effect ruined somewhat by the mud squelching at their feet. He resisted, barely, the urge to pull her back against him, envelop her, melt her resistance and fear.
‘You should not have run away like that.’
She stopped at the first of the standing stones and turned the full force of her great grey-eyed glare on him.
‘I did not run away. Our agreement was for a month and now it is time for me to leave. I came to help you with Jamie and I have done precisely that. It is not my role to hold your hand and warm your bed as you prepare the castle for your next Duchess, Lochmore. Now that you will be announcing your engagement it is no longer appropriate that I remain at the castle. I have too much respect for Tessa McCrieff.’
‘If that is your objection we are quite in the clear. There will be no wedding. She has rejected me.’
‘She... She what?’
‘Unbelievable, I know. I could hardly credit it myself, vain peacock that I am. She told me that on no account would she marry me.’
He smiled a little at the blank shock on her face.
‘Your disbelief goes a little way to restoring my bruised pride. But only a very little way. It will need more than that.’
‘Is there someone else? Is that why?’
‘Most assuredly... Oh, you mean for Tessa McCrieff. I’m afraid I didn’t enquire, though she did appear very willing to be banished to her aunt in Glasgow for some reason. I was rather too dazed at my good fortune to take in the details. I went to throw myself at her mercy and she ended up cutting me loose with hardly a scar to show for it. I can only console myself on my good taste that had matters been different she would have made me a very creditable wife, but she also makes an excellent jilt. In that, too, I am luckier than I deserve. I’m free, Jo.’
* * *
Free.
Jo leaned back against the stone behind her. Her head was pounding, her heart was pounding. She felt sick and terrified of the joy that was trying to burst out of her at this reprieve.
But it made no difference. If Tessa McCrieff would not have him, no doubt McCrieff would toss another clan member at Benneit, or he would find some lord’s lovely daughter from Inveraray or Kilmarchie—she had seen enough pretty things sighing over him during the ball. The principle was the same. All that had been bought was some more time.
But time...
With Benneit and Jamie.
She would give everything she had for this time. She had already given her heart, what did pride and honour and reputation matter next to that?
‘You wish for me to return with you.’ She sounded calm, which was amazing.
‘Yes, Jo. You aren’t leaving.’
‘It is not for you to decide.’
He came and pressed his palm against the rough grey stone behind her.
‘You do realise where you are, don’t you?’
‘In a field. A wet and muddy field.’
‘That, too. But you have very unwisely chosen to stand within the Ring of Inverdine, mo ghràdh.’
She looked away at the casual endearment, finally noticing the peculiar arrangement of stones. The name sounded impressive, but it did not look very daunting. Just an arrangement of tall and very uneven stones laid out in a broad circle. What on earth did that have to do with her whole world closing and opening and ripping her heart to shreds in the process?
‘So? Why unwisely?’
‘Come now, Jo. You of the magical mice and mystical cats should know about such things. You cannot challenge a Highland laird in a stone circle in his own domain and expect to come off scot free.’
‘I’ll never be free of Scots,’ she muttered and moved away from the rock, but he placed his other palm on it, fencing her in. She debated ducking under his arms but that was childish. And she didn’t want to leave either ring—not of his arms, not of this magic he was spinning.
She forced herself to look up, which was an error, because even in the mist of fine rain she saw his eyes were blazing with heat.
‘I’ll make very certain of that, sweet Jo.’
‘They will see us...’
‘Dougal and Ewan are clever fellows. They will take their time turning the carriage. I wish our ancestors had planned better when they created these behemoths—they would do much better with a roof. I need a roof right now, and a bed, and a fire and some whisky to lick off your...’
‘Benneit,’ she moaned, half-protest, half-supplication.
‘Then say yes, blast it.’ That too was half-supplication.
‘Of course I’ll come back to Lochmore. Oh, God, everyone will think I am quite mad and I dare say I am. I should get in that carriage and go. You are not good for me, Benneit.’
‘Don’t say that. Please, Jo.’
He pulled her against him, his arms tight. She felt his mouth moving against her damp hair, his words muffled but filled with a pain she did not understand unless it was guilt or regret. She ran her hands up and down his back, slipping under his coat, trying to reassure him. She did not want him to feel guilty. She made her own choices.
‘I’m sorry, I should not have said that. It is not your fault I am weak.’
‘I’m not so gracious. It is definitely your fault I am weak, Jo. I’ve been in hell for weeks. Well, swinging between heaven and hell. And then for two hours riding back from the McCrieffs’ I was in heaven only to find you flown. I had everything ready in my mind. Everything I wanted to tell you, finally, and beg you and then seduce you and you were gone. And for ten whole endless minutes I actually believed you wanted to be shot of us.’
He let her go and sank to his knee. The mud squelched in protest and instinctively she reached out and tried to draw him to his
feet. But he merely took her hand, wrapping his around it and bending to kiss it as gently as a butterfly wing buffing a rose. The touch was gentle, but the impact was like the lightning scarring the sky—it seared her insides, lighting her from within.
‘Benneit! What are you doing?’ Her voice was as weak as her will and he looked up and smiled and what was left of her senses surrendered unconditionally. If she did not have the rock behind her, she would have sunk to the mud on her knees next to him.
‘I am taking advantage. You cannot deny me here inside the standing stones. It would be bad luck and we’ve both had enough of that. What I beg for, you must grant.’
‘Benneit...’
‘I’m on my knees, Jo. Well, one knee. Two would be rather precarious in this mud. If you leave—’ his voice turned hoarse and he pressed her hand to his forehead ‘—I don’t know what I will do. I should say I will manage. For Jamie’s sake. I dare say I will. But I don’t want to. I’m selfish and I want you with me. I need you with me.’
‘I already said I will stay until...’
He tugged and she sank on to the mud.
‘My dress!’
‘Devil take your dress, woman. And stop saying “until”. The only “until” is until I’m dead and buried. This is Scotland—I’m marrying you right here in the blasted mud. We’ll have a proper ceremony so Lady Theale can gloat over the success of her machinations since I wouldn’t be surprised if her devious mind foresaw this. But this is between us, here. I stole you back from the sea and you’re mine and we are sealing that fact here in good Highland fashion—in the rain, in the mud and with some blasted druid’s spirit hanging over these rocks and ready to topple them on us if you say nay. I love you, Jo. Do you care for me?’
He brushed the rain from his face with his sleeve without even letting go her hands, as if she might flit away if he did. It streaked mud along his beautiful cheek. The fierceness in his eyes faltered at her silence and again she saw the look that she had seen but not understood before—pain, uncertainty, loneliness. Her voice was husky with her own pain and need when she answered.
‘Of course I care. How can you not know that?’
He let go of her hands and touched her cheeks, his fingers cold as they slid over her damp skin, tracing the warmth where her tears were mixing with the rain.
‘Jo. I need to hear it. In your voice.’
‘Oh, God, Benneit. I love you so much. I am tired of holding it inside me, but I’m terrified of letting it out. I am afraid to believe you. You think you care, but it is only magical mice and soon the solstice will be over and you will forget we were even friends. I have none of the makings of a Duchess...’
‘Yes, you do, you little fool, but more importantly, you have all the makings of my wife. You have my love, my heart and far too much of my mind. The only thing you lack is some sense. As your husband it will be my duty to help you rectify that lack, as challenging as that task may be.’
‘I’m too plain...’
‘Stop saying you are plain. What does that even mean? That you don’t look like a doll on a shelf? Well, you don’t. You look like Jo and I can’t stop looking at you. I have spent more time looking at you against my will, and searching for you against my better judgement, and lusting after you against my very sanity these past weeks. I see you. Just as you see me. I don’t know how it happened, but I cannot imagine passing a single day without you. I cannot imagine who I am without you any more. God forgive me for saying this, but not having you would be as bad as not having Jamie. He needs me, but I need you.’
* * *
Benneit held her as she sank against him, sobbing into his shoulder. He wanted to take her back home and strip her of her cold clothes and hard defences and sink her into a warm tub, preferably with him, and make love to her for a week until she admitted the truth—that she was right for him. She was a fool sometimes, but not so much of a fool she couldn’t admit to that truth if he made it absolutely clear to her by whatever means he possessed.
Just not in the mud, perhaps.
She finally calmed, wiping her eyes with his cloak and leaving streaks of mud like war paint from temple to chin.
‘I’m covered in mud, Benneit Lochmore.’
He smiled and carefully brushed a smear from under her eye and brushed his mouth across hers again.
‘Serves you right for bolting, little pixie. I don’t blame you for not having faith in my ability to rescue my sorry behind from my own stupidity, but I will become annoyed if you don’t have more faith in yourself. And in my love for you. Now up we go. Jamie is likely to be frantic that I have not managed to catch you and Mrs Merry and Beth will have my hide for keeping you out in the rain like this and destroying another dress. I shall count on you to redeem my character on all fronts.’
They squelched up to the carriage and Ewan opened the carriage door, his face split in a grin, but he said nothing as Benneit helped Jo inside. Benneit placed his boot on the step and stopped.
‘Ewan. I’m going to impose on you a little further. Ride Lochlear to the village and have a word with Father McManus. I want his politic opinion about how soon I can wed Mrs Langdale in light of my being jilted by the McCrieffs.’
‘Knowing McManus, he’ll say as soon as humanly possible. He’s no fan of the McCrieffs and the villagers themselves are still of two minds about the possibility of a Lochmore marrying a McCrieff. They’d likely rather than Englishwoman, especially this Englishwoman.’
‘I’m glad to know we are of a mind, Ewan. This week, then, if not tomorrow. Have him invoke some local custom or saint that will make this a boon.’
‘I’ll say you made the offer inside the Standing Stones. That will go down well and you know McManus will spread that word faster than he can down a dram of whisky.’
He swung on to the gelding as Benneit entered the carriage and pulled Jo on to his lap to wrap his cloak about her, wishing he could unwrap her and hold her to him, nothing but Jo. They were wet and muddy and cold and he was so happy he felt foreign to himself.
‘You shouldn’t do this, Benneit. I do not wish to cause problems.’
‘It is far too late for that, mo ghràdh. You were a problem from the day I agreed to Lady Theale’s demand. You’ve turned my brain to pudding and my body into a green lad’s and made me envious of my own son. McCrieff is well compensated for my freedom and it is not in his interest to cause trouble. We will weather the speculation and the villagers are already predisposed in your favour since Mrs Merry and Beth would go to battle for you and their word is law on Lochmore land. And they’re kindly disposed towards me at the moment, thanks to the distillery plans and all that fine gold coming in. Now stop looking for loopholes and do something about warming me. It was a long, wet ride catching up with my runaway Duchess.’
‘There is the blanket.’ She gestured to the colourful afghan on the seat across from them.
‘That wasn’t what I meant, pixie, and you know it.’ Still, he reached for the blanket, tucking it around her, gently wiping the mud that still clung to her flushed cheeks. ‘I remember that day, in the carriage—watching you cuddle in this and wanting to touch you. I knew you were trouble, but I had no idea what was in store for me.’
‘And if you had?’
He smiled and traced the sweep of her lips, soft and warm and his. His. The joy was so sharp he couldn’t speak for a moment and when he did his voice was rough.
‘And if I had, I would not have changed a moment of it. Not even if we could not have been together, not even to escape the pain. I will never disregard what a gift I have been given, to live my life with you, Jo.’
Her eyes widened and warmed, blurring with tears, the sky blue around her pupils very evident now. She pulled his hand under the warmth of the blanket, her fingers tangling with his as she pressed it against her heart, his thumb brushing the weight of her breast.
; ‘Neither will I. I cannot even begin... You don’t know how much I love you, Benneit.’
‘Tell me, then.’
‘I will. Often. You will be begging for silence.’
‘I don’t think that is what I will be begging for.’
She laughed.
‘I don’t know how I can ever thank Tessa. We must do something wonderful for her, Benneit.’
‘We will see she does not suffer from this if we can help it. Once we return.’
‘We are going somewhere?’
‘You and Jamie deserve a voyage so you can torture me with your dampened skirts again. We won’t be gone long. I want to return in time to make love to you in the garden while the wisteria is in bloom. You will like my...our bedroom there better than the castle—it has a view over the garden to the sea and the sunsets are even more spectacular than from the castle.’
‘Would it be terrible to admit I like The House better than the castle already?’
‘We can live there if you like. We can live in a cottage in the village if you like. I’ll take a muddy hovel with you over Lochmore without you, Jo.’
‘Not muddy. I don’t think I can afford to ruin any more dresses, Benneit.’
He slid his hand through the opening in the pelisse and stopped, drawing back abruptly as he realised she was wearing one of Celia’s dresses.
‘Jo! Good God, woman. I thought we were well rid of these horrors.’
‘Mrs Merry didn’t want to give a stained dress to Widow McManus, but then we managed to remove most of the stains. I did not wish...’
‘You wished to make a grand and wholly unnecessary gesture, you prickly little pixie.’
‘It wasn’t unnecessary to me... Benneit! What...? You cannot do that here!’
Benneit continued unbuttoning the dress.
‘I can and will. This dress is not passing through the castle gate.’
She laughed helplessly as he tugged off one sleeve.
‘You are mad, Benneit.’
‘Whose fault is that? Raise your delectable posterior so I can—that’s better.’
