by Tarah Scott
A soft knock sounded, then the door opened and his valet entered. “Good morning, sir.” Neill carried a tray with coffee, toast, and the paper.
Magnus threw back the covers and grabbed the robe from the bench. “Morning, Neill,” he said as he slid his arms into the sleeves. “I think, after today, I will take my coffee and toast in the breakfast room. Things will be quieter from now on, so I see no need to avoid the breakfast room.”
“Very good, sir.” Neill set the tray on the table near the window. “You have received a letter from the Marquess, my lord.”
Magnus glanced at the sealed envelope on the side of the tray. His father “Thank you.”
Neill left and Magnus tied his robe as he crossed to the tray. He picked up the envelope and broke the seal then lowered himself into the seat beside the table.
Magnus,
Duncan and I have just returned from France. I am pleased that the purchase of Barkely Hall went well. Have you spoken with Mr. Lorne about the purchase of cattle? Stirling is acquainted with him. I am sure he will be pleased to make an introduction.
We will visit you in a month or so when you have had a chance to settle in.
Your mother sends her regards and asks that you write. Please do so.
Your Father
Magnus set the letter down on the tray and poured himself coffee. His father would never cease to be a contradiction. For all his love of being the center of a juicy scandal, it was so like him not to take credit for suggesting to Stirling that Barkely Hall might be just the home Magnus needed. He released a breath. His father had been right. Barkely Hall was the perfect home. One day, he would have to thank him.
By late afternoon, Magnus’s man of affairs had hired a housekeeper and half a dozen footmen and maids who would begin work in the following days. His new housekeeper, Mrs. Rose, had graciously started immediately and, by late afternoon, the smell of baking bread and roasting chicken filled the hallway as Magnus headed for the front door. He stepped outside and studied the sky. Clouds had rolled in, but he didn’t think it would rain before he finished the walk he’d been looking forward to all day.
Magnus took the three steps down to the gravel drive, then set out. He had his eye on the hill to the west, where a forested area followed the base of the hill. Fifteen minutes later, he discovered a fair-sized stream running through the trees. If the source of the stream was large enough, perhaps he could divert the water to his crops. He followed the stream through the trees for at least a mile before stopping. The stream had widened about five feet. Its source had to be one of the Burns that ran off from Moray Firth. He would plan a day to confirm his suspicion.
The sound of voices stopped him short. Was that a woman?
“Go away,” came the voice again—definitely a woman—and raised this time.
Magnus hurried toward the sound.
A man’s muffled reply followed.
“I will thank you to leave,” the woman said.
“I tell you, I will not be gone forever,” the man replied.
The crunch of brush underfoot sounded close.
“For Goodness sake, release me,” the woman snapped.
Magnus began to jog and, a moment later, burst from the thick trees into a small meadow. To his left, a man and woman stood near an estuary that stretched east. A large sow rooted near the water’s edge. The man gripped the woman’s arm.
Magnus opened his mouth to shout, but the woman shoved the tall, sandy-haired man. He stumbled backwards toward the water. She swung toward Magnus and cried out in unison with a loud splash as the man hit the water. Magnus attempted to stop, skidded in front of her and glimpsed dark blue eyes as he slid past.
He glanced down at the muddy ground and realized he was sliding toward the water. He flailed. Slim fingers seized his arm. He grabbed for her, but his feet went out from under him. The pig squealed. The woman released him and he fell onto his back, the air knocked from his lungs. Something hard jabbed a left rib.
Dark spots raced across his vision. Mud soaked his backside and shirt. Magnus groaned. Curses emanated from the water. Something cold touched his jaw. His eyes snapped into focus and the pig filled his vision. He jerked back.
“Lucy, for heaven’s sake, get back.” The woman shooed the pig away.
From the corner of his eye, Magnus glimpsed the man climbing up the bank. With a grimace, Magnus shoved to his feet.
“Who the devil are you?” the man demanded when he neared.
“I am the owner of this property, which gives me the right to ask who you are.”
“The owner of Barkely Hall?” the woman said.
“Come, Mia.” The man started toward her. “I will take ye home.”
Magnus stepped in his path. “I will ask but once. Leave.”
The man frowned. “I will leave with Lady Mia.”
“You will not,” Magnus said. “You were manhandling the lady.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Mia and I are friends. I will no’ leave her alone with a stranger.”
“You have caused enough trouble for one day, George,” she said. “Go home.”
“I will not leave you here with a stranger,” he snapped.
She started toward the sow. The man sidestepped Magnus and lunged for her. Before Magnus could stop him, the sow squealed and charged.
“Lucy!” she shouted.
George darted right, out of the pig’s path, but the animal swerved toward him. George backed up several paces. His gaze flicked to Lady Mia. The sow neared within ten feet.
“Call her off, Mia,” he ordered, but the animal picked up speed.
“Lucy,” she cried, but the pig paid her no heed.
George whirled and ran. The sow squealed again, and the man disappeared into the trees with the pig close behind.
“Lucy,” the woman called. She looked at Magnus. “Now see what you have done?”
He blinked. “What I have done? That gentleman—man—was accosting you.”
She rolled her eyes. “He was not accosting me. Now I will have to find Lucy.” She yanked up her skirts and turned in the direction pig and man had disappeared.
A loud rustling started. Magnus seized her arm.
She looked at his hand, then lifted her gaze to his face and arched a brow.
He frowned and released her. “Wait here.” He started toward the sound, then stopped when the pig trotted into view amongst the trees.
“Lucy,” Lady Mia cried, and hurried toward the animal.
Magnus started after them, then drew a sharp breath at the discomfort in the rib he’d hit on the rock. By God, he would be sore for a week.
When the pig reached Lady Mia, Lady Mia said, “Well done, Lucy. I imagine George will not bother us again today.”
“Only a moment ago, you berated me for her chasing your attacker into the woods,” he said.
She looked up at him and his breath caught. He’d glimpsed those blue eyes when he’d slid past her, but seeing them now, dark with indignation, he…well, he wasn’t accustomed to women looking at him in indignation.
“George was not accosting me,” she said. “And if Lucy hadn’t come back, well…” she paused. “I suppose that part was not your fault. Lucy is very protective. George wasn’t wise to raise his voice to me.”
“You were damned fortunate the animal was here to protect you. Where is your husband? Surely, he doesn’t let you wander the woods alone.”
“I imagine he wouldn’t, if I had one. Which is precisely one of the reasons I do not have one.”
That did not surprise him. “Where do you live?” he asked. “I will escort you home.”
“No need. Come, Lucy.” She started toward him and the pig trotted alongside her. She reached him and he debated whether or not to argue when she stopped and said, “Oh dear, you are bleeding.”
Magnus looked at his side where she stared. A shilling sized blood stain colored his dirty white shirt. Before he realized her intent, she touched the injured area.
Pain knifed through him. “By God,” he muttered.
“Just as I thought,” she said. “You had better come home with me, so we can tend the wound.”
“I can take care of it at home,” he said.
She lifted her eyes to his face. “Are you really the new owner of Barkely Hall?”
“I am.”
“Barkely Hall is a three-mile walk. It is safer to tend to the wound, then take our cart home. Not to mention, it will be dark before you reach home.”
“I doubt the wound is that bad,” he said, though it ached like the devil.
“You don’t know, do you? Take off your shirt.”
“Madam, we have only just met, and you are asking me to take off my shirt? I doubt your father would approve.”
“I don’t have one of those, either,” she said.
That explained much.
“Come along.” She started forward. “Kaerndal Castle is just beyond that hill.” He didn’t move and she stopped and looked back. “You did say you wanted to escort me home.”
“You are taking advantage of my good nature,” he muttered, and began walking.
“I cannot say if that is true or not,” she replied, “as I do not know you well enough to know if you have a good nature.”
Given the current circumstances, he wasn’t too certain himself.
Chapter Three
Lucy walked between Mia and the gentleman. Mia glanced at him. She didn’t like the way the blood stain on his shirt had grown. Fortunately, they had only half a mile to walk, and the path was mostly downhill.
Lucy bumped his leg.
He glanced down at her. “I assume Lucy is protecting you from me, now?”
Mia shook her head. “On the contrary, she only does that to people she likes.”
“How fortunate for me,” he said in a dry voice.
“You should be thankful she likes you. You have seen what happens when she doesn’t like someone.”
He looked at her. “What did George want from you?”
Frustration welled up. "Marriage.”
His eyes narrowed. “He was proposing to you?” Before she could reply, he added, “The man should be whipped.”
“Nae, he does not want to marry me. He wants to marry my sister.”
“What the devil?” he muttered. “Why ask you for your sister’s hand in marriage? Never mind. It does no’ matter what he wanted. His actions were reprehensible.”
“He is a boy who fancies himself in love,” she said. “Were you ever in love at that age?” Or any age? she silently asked. Mia wasn’t certain the large, austere man knew what love was.
“I never manhandled a woman,” was his only reply, and she wondered if he’d ever touched a woman.
They rounded the hill and Kaerndal Castle came into view at the bottom of the incline. Mia winced at sight of Aunt Leana chasing half a dozen chickens with the billy goat on her heels. Mia cast a covert look at the gentleman. He stared, lips parted, brows arched. They seldom entertained visitors outside of their neighbors, but his reaction was one she’d seen before.
Lucy abruptly squealed and took off at a run. Her hind quarters swung left and struck his leg. He stumbled, lurched forward, and fell on his shoulder. Then rolled down the hill in the wake of the dust Lucy kicked up.
Mia cried out and raced after him. He rolled onto his feet as she neared him. Her boot toe caught on a rock. She toppled forward as he turned.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed as she crashed into him.
He yanked her to him. They fell hard, her on top of him. His arms banded around her like a vice and she buried her face in his chest as they rolled the final ten feet to the bottom of the hill. When they halted, he lay on top of her, crushing her against the rocky ground. She felt as if the air had been knocked from her lungs and her head spun, despite the fact her face was jammed against his chest.
“Oh dear, what has happened? Are you hurt? Get off of her, you brute.”
Mia realized Aunt Leana was speaking. The man pushed off her. Mia sat up.
“Who are you? Oh dear.” Leana fell to her knees beside Mia. “Are you hurt, Mia? What happened? Did this man accost you?”
“I beg your pardon, madam,” he said, “but Lady Mia fell on me. If anything, I saved her from a nasty fall.”
“Saved her from a nasty fall, indeed,” Leana muttered. “Mia, dear, speak to me.”
Her surroundings didn’t spin quite as violently. “I am fine, Aunt, and the gentleman is correct, I did crash into him.”
“Whatever for?” Leana asked. “I have never known you to do anything like that before.”
“Today has been a singularly unique day,” Mia said. Her head still swam a little.
The gentleman squatted beside her. “Look at me.” He grasped her chin and tilted her face upward.
His face blurred. Before she realized his intent, he scooped her into his arms and lifted her. She threw her arms around his neck.
“What in the world?” Leana exclaimed.
He started toward the house.
“Really, sir, this is unnecessary,” Mia said, but was glad he didn’t reply, for she had to admit, she did feel lightheaded. But her sense of smell was just fine, and he smelled quite nice, a mixture of shaving soap and something male.
He skirted the shrubbery that separated the backyard from the front drive. They neared the door.
“I must insist you put her down,” Leana said with force.
“Do you plan to pick her up and carry her inside when she faints?” he asked.
“I have never fainted in my life,” Mia said.
He looked down at her. “I can well believe that.”
They reached the front entrance and he took the four steps to the door, then halted and looked at Leana.
Leana frowned and looked at Mia.
“Open the door, Aunt. As I said earlier, it was me who crashed into him. So, technically, he did save me.”
“How kind of you to have noticed,” he muttered.
Mia ignored the remark. Leana opened the door, then stood aside as he strode through the doorway. The door creaked, then the sunlight cut off, leaving them in the foyer’s dimness.
“I can walk from here,” Mia said.
“Is there a sitting room or parlor on this level?” he asked.
Leana reached them. “Of course. Follow me.” She hurried past and led them to the room three doors down on the right.
He continued to the divan hear the hearth and set her down on the cushion.
“I am feeling much better,” she said.
“I suggest tea and rest,” he said. “I bid you good day.” He started to turn.
“Wait,” Mia cried. He paused and looked at her. “Sit down, sir. We must tend to your wound.”
“Wound?” Leana said. “What wound?”
“It is nothing,” he said.
Mia stood and grasped his right arm. She turned him slightly and pointed to the blood stain, which was larger than it had been.
“How in the world did that happen?” Leana demanded.
“That, er, really isn’t important,” Mia said. “Lucy was involved, just as she was involved in his fall down the hill.”
“That pig is a menace,” Leana said. She frowned. “We have not been introduced.” She looked at Mia.
“I have not been introduced to the gentleman, either.”
“What? We allowed a man into our house whose name we don’t know?”
“He is the owner of Barkely Hall,” Mia said.
Leana turned a hard stare onto him. “Who are you, sir?”
He gave a slight bow. “Magnus Forbes, at your service, ma’am.”
“Well, Mr. Forbes, I am Leana Allerton, and this is my niece, Lady Mia.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a proper bow that Mia could see pleased her aunt.
“How is it you came to be the new owner of Barkely Hall?” Aunt Leana asked.
He looked nonpluss
ed. “I learned from a friend that Mr. Lalton was interested in selling the estate.”
Leana eyed him with suspicion.
“Sir Stirling James,” he said.
“Of course,” Mia exclaimed. “We know Sir Stirling. See, Aunt, if Sir Stirling suggested Mr. Forbes buy Barkely Hall, then he must be a gentleman.”
“That is true,” Leana agreed. “Come with me, sir.” She turned and started toward the door.
He followed and Mia hurried to catch up with him. They reached the door. Leana continued into the hallway.
He stepped aside for Mia, then whispered as she passed him, “The fact I incurred my wound as a result of saving you from that ruffian is of no importance, eh?”
She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. He followed her out the door and fell into step beside her. They reached the kitchen and Cook sent for a clean shirt and ordered bandages prepared.
“Mia, boil some water, please,” Leana said, then to Mr. Forbes, “Remove your shirt, sir.”
He did as she ordered, and Mia’s breath hitched at sight of the tanned expanse of muscled flesh. Heavens, she’d seen her brothers without their shirts, but none of them looked so… She caught the curious glance Cook sent her way and whirled to face the maid, Marybelle, who was tearing a large cloth into strips. Marybelle also stared. Her gaze snapped onto Mia, eyes wide. Mia hurried across the room and pulled a pot from its hook to the left of the stove. She set the pot on the stove, then poured water from one of the pitchers sitting on a nearby table.
“There is no need to go to so much trouble,” Mr. Forbes said. “A quick clean-up will do, and the loan of a horse.”
“Susan,” Leana said to the maid who plucked a chicken on the far counter, “please have John bring the cart round to the front door. He will drive Mr. Forbes home.” The girl dried her hands on a cloth, then hurried from the kitchen into the larder, and Mia heard the rear door creak open.
“That is most kind,” Mr. Forbes said.
From the corner of her eye, Mia looked past Cook, who was cutting carrots at the table in the middle of the room, and she watched Aunt Leana carefully finger the tanned flesh around his wound.
