“She does not,” Rachel interjected indignantly. “She is just a bairn.”
Grace ate faster. Any discord obviously bothered her. Something shifted inside him. These children touched him as nothing else had. He had not expected it. He had thought of children as, well, something to be avoided. But he had also thought people were something to be avoided, small or large.
Especially women.
He looked around the dining room and thought how much it had improved since his cousin had so reluctantly married. It had not taken long, he discovered later, for both the bride and groom to discover they had something between them other than Cumberland’s whims. But Janet would never allow anything to develop between him and her, and neither would he.
Ride out today. Stay away until you can find a way to send her safely back.
But first a pony. He had promised.
He enjoyed a big breakfast as he answered the girls’ questions. All kinds of questions. Did he have a mother? Did he have a wife? He had already told them he had no children, but they obviously thought it strange that he had no one.
Not even a friend, come to think of it.
He had never thought that a loss before. Now he did. Now it filled him with a bleak emptiness.
Too soon, Clara came for them. Their mother, he said, was with Colin in her room and had already had breakfast there. Trying to avoid him, no doubt.
The large dining room seemed extraordinarily empty without the sound of childish voices. He looked around the room. The tower house was more than two hundred years old. Some Forbeses had honored it; others had not.
Rory probably had done it more honor than any predecessor, and even that was partly because he hated it so much. Neil remembered how much he had despised Rory, how much he had envied him, how much he had resented him. Those feelings had been so strong that he had not been able to see anything decent in the man. He’d told himself then that he resented Rory because he cared nothing for the tenants.
In truth, neither had Neil. Oh, he cared about order. He’d cared about doing things well. He’d cared about improving the yield from the land because that seemed to make his life worth something, and he had nothing else.
It wasn’t until he discovered what Rory had been about that he started looking closer at people, saw what he had never seen before. Selflessness in Rory, integrity in Jock; honesty in Tim, innocence in the children.
Gallantry in Janet.
He was actually beginning to like people. Or at least appreciate them. Some of them.
His uncle had made him distrust everyone. Donald, his cousin, had reinforced that opinion. And Rory, Donald’s brother, had always taken great pride in allowing everyone to believe the worst of him.
Bloody hell, but he was becoming maudlin. A ride would shake away those remnants of memories. He needed to check on Braemoor, then tomorrow he would ride up to the new properties. It would take him several days. Several days away from Braemoor, away from eager questions. Away from Janet’s tempting presence.
Neil dropped by the village, passing the vacant blacksmith shop. He would have to employ a new farrier. He wondered what had happened to Alister Armstrong, the former farrier. He had disappeared when Rory had, but only one body was found.
Since then he’d had to send for a farrier once a month to keep his horses well shod.
He rode by fields that were nearly ready for harvesting, then continued down a road that led to the property adjoining his. An Englishman had taken the property and was raising horses. He might have some ponies or know where Neil could find one. Otherwise, he would have to go all the way to the town of Fort William, which would take several days.
He nudged his horse into a canter. He thought of Lochaene as he passed fields growing high with wheat. There was not much chance for any kind of crop for Lochaene unless winter held back. The tenants would need a great deal of help this winter.
He was suddenly aware of another rider well behind him on the path. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he’d paid no attention, but now he wondered how long the rider had been with him. After the incident with Will, he should be more careful. Well, this time he would plan a little ambush of his own.
Thank God he had his pistol with him. He vowed he would never be without it again.
He spurred his horse into a canter. There was a turn just ahead where he could leave the path, ride up ahead and look down on whomever may be following him. If they were.
He took the turn and guided his horse off the road. He then wound around a low-lying hill and dismounted, taking a pistol from the saddlebags. After tying the horse to a tree, Neil climbed the hill that overlooked the narrow path below. The rider was not good at either riding or stealth. Neil recognized him.
It would be incredibly foolish to ask him to halt from this distance. Pistols had no accuracy at this distance, and he had but one shot.
The man would backtrack when he discovered he’d lost his prey. Neil decided that he would wait for him to return, just as Burke and his master had waited for him. The poetic justice appealed to him.
He went back and mounted his horse, then waited in the shadow of the hill.
It did not take long. Within minutes, Burke was backtracking.
Neil heard the sounds of hoofbeats and loud cursing. The man would have to learn to be more quiet if he were to remain a live bandit.
What in bloody hell was the man after? Did he want to finish the job he’d started days ago?
Neil himself felt oddly reckless.
Hell, he had never been reckless even one day of his life. He had always stood back, uninvolved, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of a situation. The one time he had been reckless—the early days with Janet—had turned disastrous. Even at Culloden, he’d tried to be detached, protecting a bully of a man as he’d been taught even as his stomach turned at the killing …
So why not be reckless now?
Dammit, he was tired of being cautious!
Pistol in hand, he moved his horse out of the shadows of the hill and onto the road. “Burke!”
The man stopped, looking startled. He started to go after his pistol, then raised his right hand in a gesture of surrender. “Ah, my lord,” he said. “Ye got me rightly, you did.”
“What do you want?”
“Ah, to see how ye were farin’. I was the one who took ye tae Lochaene,” Burke said.
“You just wanted to see after my general welfare?” Neil replied dryly.
“Aye, my lord.”
“’Tis very kind of you, but I doubt that was your sole reason. This is well-patrolled land. Give me one reason I should not turn you over to the English.”
“A debt ye owe to Will?”
“For nearly killing me?”
“Fer saving yer bloody life. I would ’ave taken it.”
“You have to do better than that. ’Tis no good reason for not turning you over to the magistrate.”
Burke shifted in his saddle, his lank brown hair falling around his face. One hand was still up, the other holding the reins. He shrugged. “We knew ’twas possible, but Will thought ye a better mon than tha’.”
“How nice. And how very wrong,” Neil said. “Now tell me why you were following me or we go to the magistrate.”
Burke looked uncomfortable. “Will is callin’ in his debt. He wants to see ye. I told him ye were naught but another nob doin’ the king’s bidding.”
“Then why did you come if you believe that?”
Burke shrugged. “I do as he tells me.”
“Why?”
The bandit looked uncomfortable but did not answer.
“And what does he want with me?” Neil asked, even as he felt he already knew. Pursuing the matter might well be the worse decision he’d ever made, but that feeling of recklessness persisted. And he was impressed with a man who would risk his life for another. It said a great deal about the enigmatic bandit in the mountains. God knew he did not know a soul who would do the same for
him.
“He needs money,” Burke said after a slight pause.
“How much?”
“Enough tae get passage to France fer twelve people.”
“For Jacobites?”
Burke just stared at him with hard eyes.
“And he trusts me no’ to betray him?”
“Nay, but he has no one else,” Burke said, adding darkly, “ye will die if ye betray him.” It was obvious he did not share Will’s opinion of the master of Braemoor.
“You do like threats, even when you are in no position to make them,” Neil said, even as he lowered his pistol.
Burke shrugged carelessly. “There are some ready tae kill if anything happens tae me.”
Neil doubted it. There was only Burke and his master. Still, he found himself responding in a perfectly irrational way. “I will bring you money tonight. You can take it yourself. ’Tis no need for me to go.”
Burke did not look happy. “He wants ye tae come.”
Neil studied him for a moment. Taking money into a bandit’s lair would indeed be a reckless thing. And yet something about Will intrigued him. “I will meet you at midnight,” Neil said. “I have something to do first and it is best we travel at night.”
Burke scowled. “Wha’ will I do until then?”
“Skulk around. You seem good enough at that.” Then he hesitated. “There is a cottage not far from Braemoor. It is deserted at the moment. You can wait there for me. Just take this road past the village, then take the first path to the right.”
“Wha’ if someone sees me?”
“That, my good fellow, is none of my concern.”
Burke glared at him.
“Midnight,” Neil said again.
“Aye, but ye better not bring anyone with ye,” Burke said in a voice that was nearly a growl.
“Ah, trust between comrades,” Neil replied. “’Tis quite touching.”
“Will may trust ye. I do not,” Burke said. “Remember what I said about betrayal.” He turned his horse, heading off the road toward the hills.
Neil watched him disappear.
And wondered what in the bloody hell he was doing.
He dismissed the thought. A pony, at the moment, was more important.
Chapter Seventeen
Janet heard the excited scream as she mounted the stone stairway with a tray full of hot fruit pastries. She barely missed being knocked down as two little whirlwinds passed on the stairs, followed by a barking puppy and a racing kitten. Grace followed at a more sedate pace.
“What …?”
She barely got the word out as Grace stopped. “The marquis … is coming. He has two ponies with him.”
A promise kept. One, anyway.
Janet turned around and went down the steps with Grace, putting the tray on the table in the hall. Then she followed Grace through the door left open by the children.
The marquis was dismounting as Annabella and Rachel squealed with delight at the sight of two ponies, one white and one a dark bay, on a lead. Both had saddles on them.
Fearless Annabella started to run over to the white one. Rachel more cautiously approached the bay. She knew far better than Annabella never to take an animal by surprise.
Janet started to go to Annabella, but Braemoor reached her first, slowing her. He lifted her up and spoke something into her ear. Annabella grinned at him, then slowly held out her hand and touched the white pony, which shook his head then nuzzled her hand.
“He likes me.”
“She likes you,” Braemoor corrected her, then put her back on the ground. He remained close for a moment, though, then he turned to Grace. “I could only find two ponies, so the three of you will have to share until I find a third.” Apology was written all over his face, and Janet felt her heart melting again. The bloody man was always confusing her.
“That is perfectly all right,” Grace said in her grown-up voice. “I would rather read.”
The little mother. She had always seen to her siblings’ needs before her own. Sometimes Janet wished she would have a temper tantrum, be a child for once.
She went over to Grace and put her arms around her.
Rachel had slowly approached the bay pony. She turned back toward Grace. “I will share her,” she offered generously.
“Him,” Braemoor said. “He’s a gelding.”
Rachel looked up and beamed at him. “Does he have a name?”
“I did not ask,” he said. “So I imagine the three of you will have to name the two of them.”
“Can I ride him … her … now?” Annabella asked in a pleading voice.
Braemoor looked toward Janet for her approval. It was nice, she thought a trifle bitterly, that he was asking for approval for something. He certainly had not heeded her feelings in any other way.
She looked at Annabella and Rachel. They looked at her beseechingly.
Braemoor had won their hearts. He had the trust it had taken her months to earn. She hated the resentment she felt. And the fear.
Would he turn on them as he had turned on her eight years earlier? Once they were no longer a novelty, would he desert them with the swiftness of the stroke of a steel blade? That would be more cruel than their father’s contempt. She could not bear that. They trusted so few people. Herself and mayhap Kevin. Why then had they allowed Braemoor to steal their hearts so easily?
She went over and picked up Annabella, hugging her close. She never wanted any of them to feel the desolation, the complete emptiness of being rejected by someone whom they thought loved them. “Of course you can, sweetling,” she said and placed her in the saddle. She took the reins, however, which had been tied over the saddle.
She avoided looking at Braemoor but walked the pony around the yard. She was aware of Rachel following on the other pony.
“I want Grace to ride with me,” Rachel said from behind, and Janet knew her second daughter was trying to be generous.
Janet looked at Grace and she was backing away. “No,” she said. Janet realized then that Grace’s smile had been for her sisters’ delight. Suspicion was as alive in her eyes as it must be in Janet’s own.
Janet turned her eyes back to the path in front of her. She was not going to let her own fears spoil the joy of two little lasses who’d had so little. She would just try to stand between them and disillusionment.
A few more rounds, and she stopped to take Annabella down from the saddle.
“Doan want to get down,” Annabella protested.
“Not even if I give you a lesson tomorrow so you can ride her all by yourself?”
Annabella thrust her lip out stubbornly.
“I think the pony is very tired from her walk today,” Janet added, hoping that Annabella’s soft heart would do the rest.
“You think so?” Annabella asked, the lip receding slightly.
“Aye,” she said. “I think she needs some oats. And you can take her a carrot to make her feel at home.”
“Awright,” she said, holding out her hands to be taken down from the saddle. Janet held her for a moment, then let her down. She went running over to the marquis who had just lowered Rachel. Annabella flung her arms around his neck before he could straighten up. “Thank you. I love you.”
Janet wanted to turn her head away but before she did, she saw the incredulous expression cross his face, the softening of his stern eyes, the way his arms went around and held Annabella a moment longer than necessary. Then he let go and straightened, his gaze meeting Janet’s.
She expected to see triumph and satisfaction in them. Instead, she saw a pain so deep and so raw that she flinched.
Then he turned away.
She stood there a moment. Stricken. Had she seen what she’d thought she’d seen? Or had it simply been a trick of the sun and shadows?
“I will take them inside,” he said.
“I will pay you for the ponies as soon as Lochaene …” She realized how meaningless the words were. Lochaene was dependent on him, on his loans. And
yet …
“They are a gift, Janet,” he said. “Please do not take that pleasure from me.”
The plea was naked. Not a hint of arrogance or authority.
She turned away from him. She did not want to feel what she was feeling. She was not going to trust him again.
“Janet.”
She turned back.
“I am leaving tonight. I will not be back for several days. Tell Torquil if you need anything. The stablelads are very competent.”
“I will not need anything,” she said.
“Do not try to return to Lochaene,” he warned.
What doubt she had about him faded. “You would drag me back again?”
“Aye,” he said coolly. “I would.”
“And you wish me to promise to be a good prisoner?”
“A contented guest.”
“You can bribe my daughters,” she said. “But not me.”
“’Twas no’ a bribe.”
“Was it not, my lord?”
“I wish them to be happy here. And safe.”
“I felt far safer in my own home than I do as a captive here.”
“And your children’s safety?”
“I can take care of them myself,” she said. “At least they will be protected against promises that are never kept.” Janet felt herself flush with color. She had not meant to say that. She had not wanted him to realize how much he had hurt her. How much damage he had done to her years earlier.
His eyes met hers. “That will never happen,” he said softly.
“No? And why should I believe you?”
“You probably should not,” he said. “But do believe that you are unsafe at Lochaene.”
“I do not want to be here.” It hurt too blasted much, but she could not tell him that.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I will try not to inflict my presence upon you more than necessary.”
She felt a twinge of regret. In protecting herself from hurt, was she being unfair? He so confused her that she did not know. She just knew she was terrified of trusting him again. She did not think she could survive another hurt that deep. “Is that why you are leaving?”
“Nay. I have a bit of unfinished business.”
The Heart Queen Page 24
