Francis looked at Arabella and gave her the same smile he had given to Colla. Arabella saw something in the smile that gave her a slight discomfort. In many ways, it seemed false, cold somehow. She noted it only now that it was turned on her.
Arabella gave him a warm, generous smile of her own, the same she always used to greet others. Her confident disposition could not be shaken by the persona that Francis seemed to be putting on.
“So, tell me, how was yer journey?” she asked him, making small talk as expected.
“Fine, thank ye,” he replied simply.
It was not much and he seemed reluctant to say more, but Arabella was not good at giving up on conversations once she had begun them. “Where is it that ye were before this?” she asked.
Francis inhaled and gave a distracted sigh, glancing around the room. “Um, Invergordon,” he finally said.
“Oh, how lovely! I’ve heard there are some bonnie lands surrounding the area. Ye must have been sad to leave it,” she continued.
“Mm-hmm,” Francis replied.
Arabella’s smile faltered. She was making every effort, but this man seemed utterly unwilling to give her any sort of response. Perhaps his lairdship was a source of extreme, arrogant pride rather than the title of responsibility many lairds saw it to be. Perhaps he thought himself too important to speak with another ward of Dunmore.
“Are ye looking forward to being a laird?” she asked, realizing after that the question was clumsily worded and potentially awkward.
“I suppose,” Francis said, glancing at her for only a moment before looking away again.
“Well then…” Arabella said, uncertain where to take the conversation from that point.
Francis’s eyes drew back to Arabella as if forcing himself to listen. She wondered if he had even noticed she had been there the whole time.
“I suppose I’ll let ye settle in,” she said, placing what had now become a false smile on her face. Arabella was annoyed by Francis’s patent refusal to converse, but tried to cover her hurt feelings.
Whether his inherited position or simply that he was not interested in her appearance as she had noticed his, there was something that Francis seemed to find more intriguing than her.
Arabella had a fleeting thought that perhaps he had been unhappy about the news that Colla was already married. Maybe his greeting to her had been genuine and disappointed by her response of her married name. It was possible.
Or perhaps Arabella was just taking it too personally. Maybe he was only tired from his journey. Whatever the case, she would make every effort to push it aside and focus on more important things, like her time with Colla.
Arabella went and sat beside her dearest friend in order to begin a new conversation with her, pointedly trying to ignore the newcomer and his monosyllabic responses.
“What do ye think of the gentleman?” Colla asked, a teasing light in her eyes.
“Oh come now, do we really need to talk about him? He barely spoke two words to me, so I dinnae think there’s much to say,” Arabella replied.
“I’m only saying, if ye are interested, I’ve little doubt we could make him notice ye. Ye’re a right stunner, Arabella. Yer dark hair, bonnie blue eyes. I’m sure he’s noticed ye. He’s only quiet, is all,” Colla said.
Arabella gave her a doubtful look, annoyed that the conversation was even happening. It was clear that Francis had not cared to speak with her in the least. He had gone and joined the laird and some of the more important military men, who broke out the whisky and began indulging in conversation.
Still, Arabella could not resist glancing over at Francis briefly, at which point she realized his eyes had also glanced to her.
Embarrassed, both instantly looked away and Arabella realized that he had probably been glancing around the room when he caught her looking at him. She felt humiliated all over again by the ward.
Colla had returned to talking about Marian and Beiste and how excited she was to have another child. Arabella listened, despite her distraction. Once or twice more, she allowed herself to glance at Francis quickly, but he was now deeply involved in conversation with the other men.
She made every effort from then on to ignore him and keep herself invested in spending time with Colla.
Sitting on the dais with her friend was the best distraction. Colla could not cease from sharing about life up north and eventually, Arabella was intrigued enough to forget her other thoughts.
“But it sounds terribly cold!” she exclaimed.
Colla simply looked at her as if she was mad. “Ye do ken that we live in Scotland, aye? It doesnae matter what part of the country ye live in, it’s all terribly cold! Certainly the wind is a bit worse, but it doesnae make too much difference compared with Dunmore.”
“Is it difficult for Marian, though? How do ye keep her warm?” Arabella asked.
Colla went on to discuss the quality of wools up north when Arabella noticed out of the corner of her vision that the men were standing and making ready to disperse. The faint view of light red hair caught her attention but she refused to turn and acknowledge the men. She couldn’t allow her attraction to Francis to get the best of her.
Her ears drifted from the words coming out of Colla’s mouth to those being spoken by the group of men near to them.
“How long do ye expect to be here?” asked one of the laird’s generals.
Arabella couldn’t stop from listening in on the conversation. Part of her was simply curious to hear whether Francis was cold and quiet around everyone or not. The other part of her wondered about his answer. Would he be staying for long? He was a soldier and would certainly have to fight. He was also to take his lairdship at some point, although she didn’t yet know when.
“At the moment it would seem that I am to be here for the next four months, although much of that depends on the fighting. I am unlikely to return to me lands for a while yet. Me uncle is overseeing me training until I have had more battle experience and am at a point to take on the duties and responsibilities that will one day be demanded of me,” Francis replied.
The conversation had answered his expected length of time, but it had also shown Arabella that he was willing to speak more than he had spoken to her. Still, she thought that perhaps it was because he was speaking with the men. Maybe it was simply women in general that he was cold with.
Thus far, Francis McNeil was a deeply confusing man. In the same moment that he was cold and aloof, he had a vibrancy about his demeanor. The contrast was difficult for Arabella to accept or to understand.
“I have met yer uncle. He’s quite a…strong man,” the general commented. There was something in his voice that told Arabella he was choosing his words carefully. A quick glance at him confirmed her suspicion.
“Aye, that he is,” Francis replied in a tone that was unreadable. Was his uncle strong in a good way or in a way that left men uncomfortable?
Moreover, why did she find herself caring? This was a man who had so clearly ignored her, yet she was obsessively watching and listening for every detail she could.
Then, suddenly, an explanation came over Arabella.
Of course! She and Colla had been discussing marriage and family. Immediately after, she had seen an attractive man. There was nothing to her interest other than the circumstances of having noticed him in tandem with her thoughts about whether or not she would live her life without love.
Yes, that had to be it. Francis was tied to her worries about a life without romance. How foolish she had been to wonder so deeply about him!
Arabella felt a push against her back and turned to see that Francis had accidentally bumped her chair while walking through the room toward the door.
“Oh, forgive me,” he said, looking at her strangely.
Arabella didn’t want to forgive him. His eyes upon her made her feel that it was rather she that was in his way as opposed to Francis’ mistake in bumping her. She would not allow him such grace as that. She couldn’
t. He needed to understand the chaos that he had sent her into.
Coldly, and rather rudely, Arabella replied without looking at him, taking her eyes away and back to Colla.
“It’s nothing,” came her words. She sensed him hesitate behind her and felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Yes, now it was her turn to ignore him and act as though he did not exist.
Once he had walked past and out the door, Arabella faced Colla again, who was eyeing her with a deep sense of understanding.
“Tell me, me dearest Arabella, what have I been speaking of for the last five minutes?” Colla asked.
Arabella stared at her friend for a moment with an eyebrow raised, wracking her mind to grasp just a word or two from all that Colla had just spoken.
“That’s what I thought. Now, dinnae ye think ye were a bit rude just now? He’s a newcomer, and me faither’s ward at that. Ye had better be on yer best behavior. I’ll not have ye ruining yer future for the mere sake of pride. Dinnae be a fool,” Colla warned.
Arabella looked down in shame. She had been rude. However, it was exactly what her pride needed most.
Chapter 2
The Lie Of The Future Laird Of Inveroch
“And sticky toffee pudding for dessert!” exclaimed General Gunn. The large man’s smile was wide as he announced all the foods that they would indulge in over dinner to welcome the new ward of the laird.
Francis smiled back, amused by the general’s excitement over the food. The other generals and military men were sitting in the seats around him at the end of the table beside the laird.
A few seats down, and across the table, sat the bonnie lass who was also a ward of the laird. Arabella. With thick, dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders and porcelain skin that accentuated her blue eyes, she was a stunning thing to behold.
He had met dozens of people that day, most of them men of the Jacobite army, but she was ever present in his thoughts and peripheral vision. From the moment she had rounded the corner, he had noted her.
Internally, Francis was scolding himself for his awkwardness. He had never been overly confident making eye contact with beautiful women. This one in particular seemed to be a challenge. The lass was confident and had a personality he was unsure he could contend with.
Unable to answer all of her questions confidently, Francis feared that he had humiliated himself before her.
Yet, in many ways, Francis knew that he had spared himself a great deal of humiliation. After all, what would he have done had she asked him further about his inheritance?
In the moment of her question, his awkward inability to respond to her had changed from his usual incompetence with women to a frightened lack of ability to speak about much of anything at all.
Now here he was, meeting a series of new people, all of whom would learn of him as the future Laird of Inveroch. He would have to live according to this fraud for his entire time in Dunmore. Worse yet, he would have to live it for the rest of his life.
Yes, it was better that he avoid the beautiful Arabella. He could not allow himself to get too close to her or he might find himself compelled to confide in her, thus impacting the entirety of his future, and the future of his clan. Worse yet, it would damage the memory of his mother.
“Split pea,” smiled General Gunn as the first course of soup was brought out to serve the guests.
Francis smiled and made himself ready to dip the spoon into his bowl. There was a significant amount of merriment and chatter around the table and Francis made every effort to join it.
“So then we told the man he was being a fool, and all he had to say for himself was that it was all fine and well since he at least kenned he was a fool,” laughed one man whose name Francis had already forgotten. The story had everyone in a fit of hysterics.
Meanwhile, nearby sat Arabella and her cousin, the laird’s daughter…what was her name? He had just remembered it a few minutes ago. The two were also laughing, keeping one another’s confidence about some matter.
“Now, Francis, tell us about Inveroch,” the laird interjected.
“Ah yes, of course, me laird. It is truly a bonnie place. We have a river that is the lifeline of the land. Plenty of crops. And of course, more sheep than we ken what to do with,” Francis laughed.
“Aye, aye. I’m sure of it. And what of Invergordon? Are things peaceful?” the laird asked.
“Aye, me laird. Now they are. Ye ken me faither’s cousin is a steward there, so he called me in during the battle, but it was brief. He considered it good preparation for me to see how he led during it. I was glad for the tutelage,” Francis explained.
“And from Invergordon ye came here?” asked another of the men, whose name Francis could not recall. There were so damn many of them!
“Aye. I’ve not returned to Inveroch in some four months. Me faither has other business for me in the meantime,” Francis said.
Francis noticed then that Arabella’s head popped up and she glanced at him. More than likely she had assumed him to be an orphan. From the little he had heard about her since his arrival, her mother was long since deceased and her faither was not long for this world.
Such was the life of a ward, he knew. However, in the moment that he made eye contact with Arabella, she looked away. At least he recognized that she was listening to the conversations he was having; surely that meant she was somewhat intrigued by him? He was certainly intrigued by her. Such a beautiful woman she was! He had never seen such a bonnie lass in all his life.
“And what business will he have to benefit our Dunmore?” asked the laird, hinting that he wanted something.
Francis looked at him uncertainly for a moment. Finally, he knew he would have to express his ignorance verbally. “Forgive me, Laird, but I dinnae ken. I have very little news for ye from me…me faither,” Francis replied, straining to get the final words out without cringing.
“Well, perhaps our mutual interest will be discussed at a later time. For now, we ought to enjoy dinner and the company! Dinnae worry, Francis, ye are welcome at Dunmore as long as ye have an interest to be here. Ye’re a good lad and we wish to always be friends of Inveroch,” the laird exclaimed, raising his whisky and urging the others to do the same.
All the men raised their glasses.
“To the future Laird of Inveroch!” came the toast. It was echoed around the table and Francis smiled, half-heartedly accepting.
* * *
Francis had been seventeen when he sat outside on a gloriously sunny day in Inveroch. He had just come in from riding with two of his closest friends and heard that his faither would be returning home soon from his business in Edinburgh.
Listening to the waves crashing beyond the cliffs he couldn’t see from his place facing the castle, Francis thought he was likely to be lulled into a deep sleep. He wouldn’t have minded; it had been a busy day.
However, he looked into the shallow dip of land that held his home and the village and considered that one day they would be his to rule. He was born to be a leader. His heritage, his very blood, made him so. Beyond that, his personality was certainly that of a leader.
Francis had always been bold with men. As a young boy he’d been scolded into submission constantly until he finally grew to be respectful of others, but for many years he was in trouble for talking rudely to his elders and betters.
In recent years, his behavior had changed into a confidence rather than the earlier arrogance. Nevertheless, he looked forward to leading and ruling.
The only real problem was that he knew he would eventually be expected to find a wife to lead alongside him. That was a grave challenge.
His mother had been such a loved woman. He missed her since her death three years before and wondered how any lady might live up to her legacy. His faither certainly hadn’t managed to have hope of finding another, so how might he be able to choose a wife?
Furthermore, he could hardly even speak to women. It seemed unlikely that he could ever find a wife when the very presenc
e of a girl his age made him close his mouth in red-cheeked embarrassment.
His faither always told him that it would come someday.
Just then, as his thoughts drifted around his awareness of the beauty of some of the girls he knew, Francis realized someone was walking up behind him. He turned and squinted against the sun as the silhouette of his uncle because a splash of color and a flesh and blood figure.
“Uncle!” he greeted, respectfully standing to welcome the man who looked so like his faither, with the same red hair that he shared.
“Sit, sit, boy. Dinnae stand for a man like me. I’m one of yer future subjects, now, so ye cannae show me too much respect,” his uncle had said.
“Dinnae be silly. Ye are a far greater man than I could ever hope to be, Uncle,” Francis replied, smiling his youthful grin.
Francis returned to his place, sitting in the grass, and his uncle came to sit beside him.
“What are ye doing?” the man asked.
“Just looking out on the clan and thinking. About the past and the future, primarily,” Francis responded.
“Of course. Perhaps the greatest weakness of man is that he so often neglects the present,” his uncle replied.
Francis considered it for a moment. What did the present mean to him? He was just a teenager now. His younger years held his mother and his future held a title. Those were the days that mattered. Today was just a day.
“I suppose,” he replied to his uncle, although he still did not quite understand.
“And what is it that ye’re considering of the past and the future?” his uncle asked.
“I’m thinking of me mum and also of the fact that I’ll be laird someday. I’m thinking how me mum would be proud if she got to see it, and how sad I am that she’ll not,” Francis said.
“Well, she’d certainly be proud of herself…” his uncle mumbled to himself.
Francis scrunched his brows together then, not understanding what his uncle meant. “In what way, Uncle?” he asked.
Love Saves A Highland Spy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 2
