A tall man with a slender build, light brown hair and blue eyes, Alistair wore a short, round hat, knickerbockers with leggings from his ankles to his knees, and a loose fitting white shirt. “Yet, something upsets you still.”
Although he was only ten years older than she, McKenna couldn’t remember a time when Alistair had not been their butler. He worked for her uncle in Scotland, and after the tragic death of her parents, she and her two older brothers moved into her uncle’s castle. More often than not, it was the butler who dried her tears. “Oh, Alistair, I have done something quite unthinkable, but I dinna know what.” She had to fight to keep the tears from forming. “His last words to me were these: I love you and only you, McKenna. My marriage does not have to mean the end of us.”
“I see.”
“What did I do to make him think I would agree to such an arrangement?”
“His imaginings are of his own making, not yours. An arrogant lad thinks if he professes to love a lass, and she believes him as others have, she will not deny him.”
McKenna caught her breath. “There were others?”
“Aye, three that I am aware of.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
“I would have, had you not seen the truth for yourself.”
She patted the neck of her restless horse to calm him. “And how did you know? Did you set spies on me after I moved back to the cottage?”
“Miss McKenna MacGreagor, what sort of butler would I be if I dinna keep a good eye on you. Besides, Donnel and Blanka were more than willing to keep me informed.”
At last, she smiled. “I suppose they were. Is that why you arrived just moments after he left?”
“Must I confess all my secrets?”
She playfully glared. “Every last one…if you are wise.”
“Very well, as you may recall it was I who suggested you sail to America straight away. A lass in love...”
“Is too easily persuaded?”
“Aye.”
“Thank you, Alistair. I understand now.” She turned her horse and continued on down the path. “I do hope you intend to marry Sarah soon. I would very much like to see you happy.”
“I hope so too, but Sarah hesitates.”
“Why?”
“For one, we dinna have a place to live. I suggested we find a cottage in town, but she says that will not do. The hill is impassible, as well as dangerous when it snows, and we could not get up it.”
“Oh, but could you not just share a room upstairs in the servant’s quarters?”
“There is little privacy there, but there is another possibility. When he comes home, I think to ask Mr. Hannish if we might build a cottage in the back.”
She lifted a low branch over her head. “Oh do, Alistair, do. My brother loves nothin’ better. He might as well build one for Prescot and Millie too. Never have I seen two people more in love…save you and Sarah.”
“‘Tis a dream come true for me. When we Scots boarded the ship bound for America, I dinna expect much more than a wilderness with maraudin’ Indians and gunfights in the streets.”
McKenna giggled. “Truth be told, you hoped to see maraudin’ Indians and gunfights in the streets.”
“Truth be told. I surely dinna expect to fall in love, but one look at Sarah and she had me lock, stock and barrel.”
At a fork in the path, McKenna chose the one she assumed would take them back to the house. “Sarah is perfect for you and I am very pleased.”
“Miss McKenna, what are you searching for this morning?”
“A horse, the most beautiful black stallion I have ever seen. Last night I could not sleep. I saw the stallion standing in the backyard in the moonlight, so I went outside to get a better look. He is unshod, which of course means he is quite wild, yet he let me approach and even allowed me to stroke his neck. And, ‘twas the oddest thing; I was somehow comforted by his gentleness.” She looked back at the butler and smiled. “I am quite mad, am I not?”
“Quite.” It made her giggle again.
*
They had just come out of the trees near the front of the mansion, when a strange man on a horse threw his lasso, and managed to get it around the black stallion’s neck. The stallion’s nostrils flared and his fierce black eyes glistened as he reared up on his hind legs.
“Stop!” McKenna shouted. She raced her horse toward the man, halted and then quickly slid out of her sidesaddle. “Let him go!”
Before the stranger could securely tie his end of the rope to the horn of his saddle, the stallion reared up a second time and jerked it away. The ebony horse trotted to the edge of the lawn, stopped and turned around to look back.
The irate stranger dismounted and glared at McKenna. “See what you have done!”
“He is wild, let him be!” McKenna ignored the angry man and calmly walked toward the stallion.
Behind her, Alistair dismounted, grabbed her horse’s reins, and then pulled a Remington revolver out of his belt. “Miss McKenna, wait!”
Inside the mansion, American butler Prescot heard the shouting and hurried out the front door with a rifle in his hand. He immediately lifted it to his shoulder and aimed it at the horse’s head.
“Get back, he is dangerous!” the stranger yelled.
McKenna stopped and turned around to face the stranger. “Do you truly care for my safety, or fear that I can catch him when you cannot?”
Judge Nicholas Mitchel could not believe the audacity of the woman. “I assure you, that horse is stronger than most and he is dangerous.”
“To you, perhaps.” The tranquil kindness she had seen the night before was again in the stallion’s eyes, when she turned back around and started to approach him a second time. She eased closer, careful not alarm the horse, gently touched the side of his head, and then ran her hand along his neck until she reached the rope. Slowly, she loosened the slipknot and then lifted the rope back off the horse’s head. “There now, you are free again.” As though he understood, the horse turned and walked into the trees.
Nicholas Mitchel was beyond furious. The muscles in his oval face were tight, his dark eyes were narrow and he had not bothered to remove his Stetson hat in the presence of a lady. “Have you any idea how long I have been trying to catch that horse? How dare you interfere?”
McKenna expertly gathered the rope as she walked back, and then held it out to him. “Must a lad conquer everythin’ he sees? The last I heard, this was the land of the free…or is that for lads only?”
He grabbed the curled rope and even though she was only a foot away, he didn’t bother to lower his voice. “The day a horse has constitutional rights is the day I leave this country!”
Just as irate, she put her gloved hands on her hips and didn’t lower her voice either. “It cannae happen too soon for me. You are on our land, and I’ll thank you to get off it!”
“Oh, I should have known. You’re MacGreagor’s sister, the one who came to beg for an American husband. Has fortune fallen on you yet, Miss MacGreagor?”
“So long as I am not married to you, I am fortunate indeed!” She abruptly started for the house. “Alistair, see he leaves the property.”
“Yes, Miss McKenna.”
No two butlers could have been more different than the Scottish Alistair and his American counterpart. Prescot was much more easygoing, had dark wavy hair, brown eyes and most of the women agreed he was the more handsome of the two. As soon as McKenna headed his way, he lowered his rifle and hurried back up the steps to open the door for her.
“Vile lad,” she said as she entered the foyer.
“Miss McKenna, the stranger is right. Had he reared up again, that horse could very easily have trampled you.”
“Aye, but as you see, he did not.” She stopped in the marble foyer to take a deep breath and calm her anger. The floor was made of large, white marble squares, and a thin marble table down the center of the room held a large bouquet of sweet-smelling summer flowers. Marble slabs served as window
seats beneath three tall windows that let in ample light, and she chose the middle one to sit on.
McKenna liked Prescot and he seemed fond of her, yet she knew his first loyalty was to her brother. “You are not goin’ to tell Hannish what I have done, are you?”
Prescot walked to the coat closet, put the gun back where he found it and closed the door. “I could be bribed not too.”
She narrowed her suspicious eyes. “What sort of bribe?”
“The use of the carriage this evening when the shadow of the mountain cools us.”
McKenna smiled finally. “Very well, but only if you take Millie with you.”
“My bonnie lass, as you Scots call her? I’d not go without her. Miss McKenna, we should tell Mr. Hannish there are wild horses around.”
“Very well. If I know my brother, he will buy extra hay to feed them come winter.” She was quiet for a moment. “Prescot, do you suppose the whole town thinks I came to beg for a husband?”
“Pay him no mind, the stranger spoke out of anger.”
“Aye, but he must have heard it from someone. I will ask Abigail. She knows what people are sayin’.”
Prescot clasped his hands behind his back, “Miss McKenna, forgive me for saying so, but there is no bigger gossip than Mrs. Abigail Whitfield. If the town thinks it, she is most likely the one who said it first.”
“I cannae believe she would say somethin’ that unkind. ‘Tis true, she hopes I shall take a husband, but ‘tis different than beggin’ for one.”
“Perhaps she was misunderstood. Shall I ring her for you?” McKenna stood up and started into the parlor. “Nay, why should I care what the whole town thinks of me?”
“That’s the spirit.” He watched her climb the wide marble stairs and then hurried off to find Millie. Except for trips to town, they rarely had an opportunity to get away from the mansion, and borrowing the carriage was perfect for the engaged American butler and his redheaded Scottish lady’s maid.
*
Judge Nicholas Mitchel was still furious when he dismounted, and handed the reins of his horse to the downtown Colorado Springs stable master. It was going to be another hot afternoon and he had three cases on his docket to hear. All three promised to be boring land disputes and he was not looking forward to them.
He hurried to his house to wash the smell of horse away and dress in his more formal clothing. The day before, his housekeeper quit, leaving him to fend for himself and already the place felt vacant. He made a mental note to hire someone new, and then walked across the street to the courthouse. Like most buildings in a town that was founded not so very long ago, it too was new, with a wide staircase leading to his chambers on the second floor.
Judge Mitchel preferred simple surroundings, which was why his chambers held only the necessary bookcases, pigeonhole boxes for paperwork, and desks and chairs for himself and one male secretary. Rarely did anyone else enter the room and when they did, an extra chair or two were brought in from the courtroom across the hall.
“Good morning, Judge,” his secretary said when he entered his chamber. “Any luck this morning?”
“Don’t ask.”
Seated behind his smaller desk, Glenn smiled. The judge said that every morning, and it meant he had not managed to capture the mysterious black stallion.
The judge took off his jacket and hung it and his hat on the rack. He pulled his chair away from his desk, sat down and began to sift through the paperwork on his desk. His white shirt set off his summer tan perfectly, and although he was considered a handsome man, women found him aloof and somewhat unfriendly.
The law was his life. Yet, this morning his powers of concentration were lacking, and after he read the same sentence three times without knowing what it said, he gave up and looked out the window. “Glenn, how much do you know about McKenna MacGreagor?”
“At last, a pleasant subject.” Glenn poured his boss a cup of coffee and then set the pot back on the serving tray his wife delivered each morning. “Miss MacGreagor arrived about six months ago and lives with her brother in Marblestone Mansion. I doubt there is an unmarried man in the county who wouldn’t like to have her attention. However, she is never without her overprotective brother.”
“I assure you, she does not need a brother to protect her.”
Glenn went back to his desk on the other side of the office. “You have met her, I take it.”
“I wouldn’t call it that. I would have caught the horse this morning, if she hadn’t shouted and spooked him.”
“Why did she shout?”
“She said the horse has the right to be free…among other things.”
In the year Glenn had worked for him, this was the first time the judge asked about a woman and Glenn was hopeful. A good wife and a few children would settle the overeducated, resolute judge right down. “She got to you, did she?”
The judge frowned. “It will be a cold day when a woman like that gets to me.”
“It is just as well. Need it or not, Hannish MacGreagor protects his sister. Charles Whitfield tried to approach her, and MacGreagor soundly thrashed him for it.”
“Just for approaching her?”
“Well, that was Whitfield’s side of the story. Simon Merth said Whitfield took hold of her arm and prevented her from leaving the general store.”
“I would have thrashed him too. Where is Abigail Whitfield’s glorious son, Charles? I’ve not seen him in weeks.”
“Gone off to Paris.” Glenn shook his head. “Judge, you need a wife. There is more to life than catching a black horse.”
“So you keep saying.” He thought about it for a moment, and then picked up the piece of paper again. “It’s just that catching the horse is more challenging than finding a wife. The women in this town are far too willing.”
Glenn gave up and went back to work on the mountain of papers that demanded his attention. Some documents needed to be signed, some logged, some filed, and the court docket had to be updated. At length, he looked up. “There is something curious about Miss MacGreagor’s brother, however.”
“What?”
“He got married yesterday.”
“Good for him.”
“Yes, but according to Abigail Whitfield, MacGreagor already has a wife.”
Judge Mitchel set his paper down and thoughtfully drank his coffee. “Does she imply he has committed bigamy?”
“No, which is even more curious. If Abigail Whitfield thought he had, nothing could keep her from saying it. Mrs. Whitfield does say the wife was only here for one night before he sent her back to Scotland.”
“How long ago was that?”
“See, if you got out more, you would know,” said Glenn.
“And rob you of the pleasure of telling me? Answer the question. How long ago did he send her away?”
“A few months, as I recall.”
“Then the first wife probably died.”
“But if she did, why keep it a secret? For that matter, why keep a divorce a secret? It makes no sense, Judge, no sense at all.”
“Indeed not, yet I’d not be surprised if MacGreagor has committed bigamy. The wealthy often think the laws do not apply to them. In fact, I’ve a good mind to notify the sheriff.”
“And miss all the fun?”
“What fun is that?”
“The fun is seeing how long it takes Sheriff Thompson to ask about the bigamy laws.”
At last, Judge Mitchel smiled. “It just might be fun at that.”
CHAPTER 2
“He married a servant?” an incredulous Lillian asked. Having just arrived that morning, she was the latest housekeeper to join the growing number employed at Marblestone Mansion. Lillian was a tall woman with blue eyes and light brown hair, which she wore in a tight bun tucked under her white servant’s cap.
“You will like her, everyone does,” said Margaret Ann. She set her six-month-old son down on the grass, and watched one of the footmen set the heavy basket of wet clothes next to the clothesline
. It was an expansive backyard, just as everything about Marblestone Mansion was spacious, and the clothesline was midway between the house and two small cottages at the far edge of the lawn. Beyond the cottages was a fenced pasture, a horse corral and a shed where the red MacGreagor carriage was kept. Next to the shed sat two unhitched wagons, one with benches down both sides.
Margaret Ann nodded her appreciation and then watched the footman head back to the house. “Miss Leesil and her sister, Miss Cathleen, were raised in an orphanage in England, though they are Scottish the same as Mr. MacGreagor and his sister. At times, they are a bit difficult to understand, but you’ll get used to it. Where are you from?”
Lillian picked up a shirt, shook it out, took two clothes pins out of the cloth bag and began to hang the shirt on the line. “I am from Denver. I heard the MacGreagors were hiring and took the train to Colorado Springs right away. At first, I thought I might have to clean the mansion all by myself and I am greatly relieved to find there are others here. How many rooms are there?”
Margaret Ann looked back at the square, three-story mansion, with its abundance of windows that had to be kept clean. “Sixty seven, they tell me. I’ve not been here but a few weeks myself.” She was a short woman, and a little overweight with light blonde hair. “The marble foyer is my favorite room, but there is something made of marble in all the rooms. The only room we do not clean is Mr. Hannish’s study just off the parlor. Sarah, the head housekeeper, cleans in there. The mansion has a library, a ballroom with a balcony, a formal dining room, a downstairs sitting room, and several other rooms I have not yet seen. If you get lost, just remember the kitchen is in the center of the bottom floor and there is a door from each hallway into it.”
“I will remember.”
“The second floor also has a sitting room and bedrooms for the family and their guests. The third floor is ours, and Mr. Hannish built a sitting room up there as well.”
“You call him Mr. Hannish instead of Mr. MacGreagor?” Lillian asked. She pulled a wet nightshirt out of the basket and began to hang it on the line.
“He does not stand on formalities such as that, unless there are guests in the house.”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 2 Page 2
