The great news, my dear, is that a plan has been hatched for all of us to visit Spaethness, which is Colonel Stirling’s estate. We were all at dinner before the party, and I mentioned a desire to visit the Highlands, and before the cat could lick her whiskers Ranulf had issued the invitation! We leave at the end of the week, and I am in alt! I have never seen the Highlands, and it has long been one of my fondest wishes to go there. Although, I suppose we will need an extra carriage for little Euan, and Isobel’s Catherine and their nursemaids, as the current laird is very old and somewhat frail, and there have been no children in the house since dear Ranulf was a boy.
Sophy seemed at first to be reluctant to leave Glencairn, but once it was made clear to her that the Exencours will accompany us so she could not remain with them, she had to come about. I do not know what it is that makes her so prickly these days, as I have assured her she will find many scenes to paint at Spaethness that are far more beautiful than any hereabouts. After the party she seems to be somewhat more willing, though I cannot tell you why. When I ask she turns the topic. I find her such a mystery even though I was a young woman once myself! I have no recollection of being so odd and mopey!
Spaethness is in Argyll, near the Trossachs, the home of The Lady of the Lake! You may think me foolish, but I am imagining the wild land, the skirling pipes and of course the romance that Mr. Scott brings to life. Colonel Stirling says to me it is not nearly as mysterious as I imagine it to be, and teases me, telling me that it is much like any other place. I am ridiculous, I know, but, fond as I am of Glencairn the place as well as the dear, dear man, I do look forward to seeing another part of my adopted home, and one that is reputed to be so beautiful.
I expect that my next letter will reach you from Spaethness, and can hardly wait to tell you how I find it, and the visit goes on. I hope that all is well with the children and that the weather favors the farming.
Your loving sister,
Harriet
Chapter 17
Sophy reined in her horse and waited for Douglas and Colonel Stirling to come alongside her. She raised a hand to tuck a curl back under her dashing hat, her hand lightly skimming the side of her neck, and was suddenly aware Ranulf was watching the movement with a lazy smile. She thought for a moment of his lips on that very spot just over a week before, and, when she looked up and met his eyes, she could sense that he had the same thought. She looked away, willing the unaccustomed heat that flashed through her body to subside.
“How much farther is it?” she asked.
“We are very close,” promised Ranulf. “We’ll arrive before noon.”
“What a pity we had to spend an extra night on the road,” opined Sophy.
“Traveling with a great number of people and two small children is always difficult,” said Ranulf. “I sometimes thought we might not get here at all.” He pulled his horse up next to hers. “Kincraig, ride ahead; Spaethness is not two miles up this road, and I think that your horse would like to stretch his legs. Let them know we are coming.”
“With pleasure! Dawdling about like this is for girls, like Sophy!” said Douglas, and immediately urged his mount in to a trot.
Sophy watched as he disappeared around a bend in the road, and then looked over her shoulder, noting that the riders had far outpaced the carriages carrying her parents and the children. “Where is Lord Exencour?” she asked nervously.
“He rides beside his wife’s carriage,” said Ranulf easily.
“Oh.”
“So yes, you are alone with me.”
Sophy peeped up at him from under the brim of her hat. “I would accuse you of manufacturing this moment, but you have avoided me since the party at Glencairn. I wondered if you had thought better of what happened that night.”
“Oh, I have thought better of it many times,” said Ranulf. “But I cannot regret it. I have stayed away because I felt repeating it should be avoided—at least in your father’s home.”
“And in your home?” asked Sophy as lightly as she could.
“Ah, that is another matter.” Ranulf urged his horse into a walk. “But, of course, your father is here. I don’t think you need to fear I will ravish you.”
“I don’t fear such a thing!” protested Sophy.
“You don’t? Then you are far more fearless than I,” Ranulf said pensively.
Sophy’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Surely you know by now the effect you have on me,” he continued. “That is why I wished to speak to you privately. Over the next few weeks I will allow you to decide how much time we spend together. If you treat me formally, I will take your meaning.”
Sophy looked away, and they rode in silence for moment. Finally she screwed up her courage and turned to him. “I thought I might ask you to sit for me,” she said quietly.
“Sit for you?”
Sophy plowed ahead. “I would like to paint a portrait of you. I’ve thought about it almost since we first met.”
“Have you?” said Ranulf noncommittally.
“You strike me as a man of great contrasts.” Sophy stared straight ahead, not willing to meet his eyes. “You can be open and honest, but it also seems you keep a great deal to yourself. I want to try to capture that.”
“I am honored. I would be glad to sit for you.”
The rode along for a few minutes in silence, Sophy not sure if she was elated or appalled by what she had just done.
“You realize this will necessitate us being alone a great deal,” said Ranulf finally.
“You did say you wished to know me better,” replied Sophy.
“I did indeed.”
“This will give you an opportunity to do so,” she pointed out.
“So it will.”
Sophy glanced at him finally, but his face was unreadable. They topped a rise in the road and Ranulf reined his horse in, gesturing down the road ahead of him.
“That is Spaethness Castle,” he said quietly.
Sophy looked up, surprised. She saw a loch below; a sparkling lapis expanse of sun dappled ripples, stretching towards an imposing hill, its lower reaches garbed in gorse and heather, while the bare rocky peak above glistened in the sun. At the end of the loch, a castle could be seen, occupying a large lawn, dotted with a few ancient trees that swept down to the edge of the water. A medieval hall and keep were visible, the gray granite native stone walls rising high, with a circular keep at one corner, and protective turrets at the other three, their arrow slots a testimony to a violent past. It was attached to a newer wing, designed by a discerning eye for comfort and elegance, with rooflines and large windows that harmonized with the gothic past, but provided spacious, light-filled rooms. Between the castle and the lawn lay flower gardens, their riot of color in full bloom, with paths through the beds leading to the loch.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Truly. I had no idea your home was so magnificent. I—I feel almost as though I have been here before.”
Ranulf smiled. “It is home. I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? I’ve never seen anything so lovely. The light on the stones—” her voice drifted off.
“What of Glencairn?” asked Ranulf softly.
“Oh—of course, you know how I feel about my home. But I have never seen anything like Spaethness.”
“You make me very happy. I look forward to showing it to you.”
Ranulf urged his horse forward, and Sophy’s fell into place beside him. They trotted down the last half-mile of road, halting in front of the massive oaken door. Ranulf dismounted as a servant ran forward to hold his horse, then turned to Sophy to help her dismount. She hesitated a moment before sliding down out of her saddle into his grasp. Firm hands gripped her waist lightly as he lowered her to the ground, holding her for just a moment longer than was perhaps proper. Sophy could feel Ranulf’s legs through the heavy twill of her riding skirt and, when he set her on her feet, she paused a moment, enjoying his closeness and his masculine scent, before stepping back demurely.
“My pleasure.” He signaled to the servant to take the horses back to the stables, and offered Sophy his arm. “Welcome to Spaethness Keep, Lady Sophia,” he said.
She took his arm gingerly and he led her up the stairs. The door with its huge strap hinges swung open and a butler appeared, wreathed in smiles.
“Welcome home, sir,” he said.
“Thank you, Gibbs.” Ranulf led Sophy into the vast hall. The vaulted ceiling rose far above them, its gracefully carved stone disappearing into the gloom.
Sophy gazed up, amazed. “How wonderful!”
Ranulf smiled. “It will be my pleasure to show you the entire Keep,” he promised. “Gibbs, this is Lady Sophia Learmouth. She will need a painting studio while she is here. Please speak to Mrs. Ross and make arrangements. Find a room that is spacious and well lit, with large windows.”
Gibbs was too well trained to show surprise at this request, and only bowed politely. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“A studio! Sophy, you don’t mean to spend all your time cooped up inside while we’re here!”
Sophy turned to find Douglas bearing down on them. “A dashed fine house you have here, Ranulf,” he said eagerly.
“Thank you,” replied Ranulf. He glanced down at Sophy. “Your sister must be able to pursue her work while she is here at Spaethness. It is important to her, and therefore it is important to me. Besides, I have just agreed to sit for a portrait.”
“A portrait! How dreadful! You will be sitting inside with Sophy on all these lovely days, when you might be fishing or riding with me.”
“There will be plenty of time for that,” said Ranulf. “I imagine your sister will, from time to time, wish to join in our entertainments as well.”
Douglas shrugged. It clearly did not matter a bit to him whether Sophy participated or not. “May we visit your stables now?”
“And basely abandon your sister?”
“Sophy won’t mind.”
“The stables are in the rear of the building, and my stablemaster would be glad to show you about, but I think good manners demand that I stay here until your parents and the Exencours arrive, so I may greet them.”
“Suit yourself. Are you sure your groom won’t mind?”
“I think he would be delighted to spend time with someone as enthusiastic as you, Kincraig. By all means, do seek him out.”
Needing no more encouragement, Douglas made for the stables, and Ranulf led Sophy into a sitting room off the hall.
“Do you recall saying, the very first time I met you, that you would miss your brother were he to disappear? Do you still feel the same today?”
Sophy chuckled. “I love him dearly, but yes, there are times he is decidedly annoying.”
“Such as now?”
Sophy glanced at him with a smile. “Precisely.” She reached up and removed her hat, placing it on a little table and turning to a tall mirror in a large gilt frame attached to the wall to adjust her hair. As she raised her hands to pat a curl or two back into place, Ranulf appeared behind her.
“Let me do that for you.”
Their eyes met in the mirror, his lazily smiling, hers wide and a bit apprehensive. As she watched, he reached up slowly to push an errant ringlet into place, and then delicately smooth back a tendril that had slipped onto her forehead. His fingers were very gentle and she made a little gasping sound as she leaned back into him, her eyes following his gestures in the mirror. He slid the back of his hand caressingly down her cheek and then reached around to slowly cup her chin.
“What a pity you’re wearing that riding habit,” he murmured as he slid one arm around her waist, drawing her body tightly against his. “I most definitely prefer muslin or silk. They are so much less sturdy. Were you mine I would make sure you never wore such coarse fabric.”
His other hand crept around to cup one breast as he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck. His warm breath seemed to light a fire in Sophy and she groaned and sought to turn in his arms.
“No, don’t. I want you to see yourself,” whispered Ranulf. His finger rubbed at her nipple, encased in the stiff bodice of her habit as he kissed and licked his way across the back of her neck to nuzzle at her ear. When he released her breast she made a soft sound of protest, but he only laughed softly.
“There’s more,” he said in a heated voice.
Sophy watched, fascinated, as he gathered a handful of her riding skirt and slowly lifted it, revealing the neat leather boots she wore and then her slender legs, clad in sensible linen stockings. The skirt rose further, and her garters were exposed, and then the soft skin of her thigh. Ranulf nipped at her earlobe. “Hold up your skirt,” he whispered, so softly she could barely hear him.
Overcome by the sensations crashing through her, she clutched at the fabric as his hand moved to her inner thigh, gently stroking the tender flesh he found there.
“You are delightful—so fresh and sweet,” he said. His fingers moved persuasively over her, and she felt her knees grow weak. His arm tightened slightly about her waist, securing her.
“Raise it,” he urged, his tongue tracing the delicate scroll of her ear.
Sophy paused for one moment, but then obeyed, raising the skirt an inch or two as his hand tantalizing followed. His skin was dark against the whiteness of her thighs, his fingers slightly rough against her tenderness.
“Higher,” he commanded, his voice thickening with passion.
Sophy felt her face grow hot, and while she wished to look away, she could not. She hesitated only a moment, and then lifted it further, bunching it at her waist. She closed her eyes when she realized she had revealed the thatch of dark curls between her legs, but did not lower the skirt.
“Good girl.” Ranulf’s hand slid up her thigh, his fingers just brushing the softness covering her mons, and then feathered across her hip and stomach. “Open your eyes, Sophy.”
She did so slowly, and, looking in the mirror, her gaze met his for a moment. She blushed violently, and then looked down, mesmerized, as his hand slid down, tangling briefly in her curls before cupping her, his thumb lightly circling the nub between her legs that ached for his touch. She jumped and gasped.
“Do you like that?”
Unable to speak, Sophy nodded.
“I thought you might,” Ranulf smiled. “There is something else you may enjoy—”
Suddenly they heard a stir in the hallway, and the squeak of the large door swinging open followed by the butler greeting new arrivals. Through her haze, Sophy heard Isobel’s cheerful voice, as well as Harriet’s, breathless with enthusiasm. Her eyes flew open, and she gave a hiccup of frustration.
“Easy,” breathed Ranulf, his lips still lingering just under her ear. “It will be a few moments before they are escorted in here.”
“But if they were to see us—”
“What if they did?” Ranulf’s arm tightened slightly around her.
Sophy turned pinker, if that were possible. “They would be shocked!”
“Would they? I wonder. I sometimes think Lady Exencour has a very clear idea of what is happening between the two of us. The worst thing I can think of that might occur is that I would be obliged to marry you.”
“Precisely!” Sophy dropped her skirt and pulled away from him, aware that she was free only because he had allowed it. “Neither of us wants that!”
“Don’t we?”
“No, we don’t.” Sophy fidgeted with her skirt, and adjusted her lace cravat, which had also been disarranged by Ranulf’s questing hands. She looked back into the mirror once again, with a dissatisfied air.
Ranulf laughed. “I think that was what got us into trouble in the first place,” he said. He stepped forward and unhurriedly repositioned her curls, then leaned forward, to plant a sensuous kiss on her lips. Sophy moaned, willing herself not to respond, despite the fact that her body was already primed by his previous attentions.
“You see?”
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Sophy glared up at him, resenting the smugness she sensed in his voice, before turning her back on him, walking towards a window and pretending a great interest in the surrounding gardens.
Chapter 18
As Sophy stared stonily out the window, a babble of voices in the hallway became audible, and the drawing room door opened as the butler escorted in her parents as well as Isobel and Francis. She turned to face them hastily, hoping she did not look as flustered as she felt as she joined the others.
“What a glorious home you have, Colonel Stirling,” trilled Harriet. “I am absolutely in raptures over it! Your description hardly did it justice!”
“Thank you for your kind words, Lady Glencairn,” said Ranulf. “I’m glad it pleases you.”
“Oh, it more than pleases me! How happy I am that we are here. Is it not lovely, Sophy?”
“What? Oh! Yes, it is,” agreed Sophy, trying to gather her wits. Her thoughts were still located five minutes in the past.
“You’re flushed, my dear,” said Isobel. “Are you warm?”
Ignoring Ranulf’s teasing look, Sophy did her best to pull herself together. “No--no, not at all. It must be from the wind on the ride here.”
Isobel looked from her to Ranulf and smiled slightly. “Yes, that must be it,” she said. “In any case, you look very becoming.”
“You do, child. The highland air seems to agree with you,” said Harriet. She clasped her hands. “How lovely. What shall we do now?”
Ranulf cleared his throat. “Mrs. Ross will conduct you to your rooms. I’m sure you will wish to get your children settled and rest. I’ve arranged to have a nursery set up in the same wing you will be in.”
“How thoughtful! And a rest sounds perfect!” Harriet beamed at him.
The Highlander's Yuletide Love Page 12
