After a moment, Flora circled her arm around Lucy’s waist. “Come into the house, dear. We’ll have some refreshment in my parlor. Then you can rest a bit before supper.”
“Thank you, Mother Flora.”
Alex marveled at the instant connection Lucy and his mother made. He and his father remained at the entrance, watching their women take the staircase to the second floor.
“I think they will get on fine,” John said. He looked at Hercules, still content in Alex’s arm. “What’s that?”
Suddenly remembering, Alex said, “Oh. Her wee dog.”
“Mind it carefully. A hawk might take it for a rabbit. Come inside and have a dram.”
Alex set Hercules on the floor of his father’s library, where the small dog eagerly investigated everything within reach of his short snout. When he removed his coat, his father noticed his blood-spattered shirt.
“Brawling again?” John asked.
“Nae. We were attacked by highwaymen when we made camp north of Latheron.”
John’s eyes widened. “And?”
“Three men are dead. Two escaped.” Alex’s heart beat quickened. He braced himself for his father’s wrath.
“You killed them?”
“We had nae choice, Da. Ask Fergus. They used deadly force.”
His father scrubbed his face with both hands.
“Sorry, Da,” he said. “You should know, at least one of the men was a Redcoat we had encountered earlier in the day in Golspie. Sutherland’s man most likely. He was out of uniform. The man might well have shot me if Lucy hadnae been so bold.”
“What?” John shook his head slightly as if he didn’t hear Alex properly.
“It happened she was playing with her bow—she’s more than handy with it—and when the banditi came out of the wood, two men set upon her. I cut one down. The other raised a firearm. Lucy’s arrow hit him in the chest. Gave me time to finish him.”
“Jesus.” His father looked unsettled, and Alex had rarely seen him in that condition.
“Needless to say, she was scared. I think I frightened her more than the men who attacked us.” He paused and rubbed his beard stubble. “It’s odd, that.”
“What’s odd?” His father still didn’t comprehend his story.
“Why would two men have headed for the woman? Most highwaymen would ignore the woman and take the men. There were five of them and four of us.”
His father finished his whisky. “What happened next?”
“We hid the bodies in the wood, assuming those that escaped would return for their comrades. We continued north until we ran out of light.”
“Lucy?”
“She was upset but uninjured.” Alex chuckled. “She’s a braw lassie. I dinnae ken should I be impressed or fearful.” A moment of silence passed, and he added, “I’m truly sorry, Da.”
“It’s all right. You did what you had to do. Fergus and I will go to Thurso tomorrow morning and make a report at the magistrate’s office. I’m more concerned about Lucy. Do you mind what I told you about Sutherland?”
Alex’s eyes narrowed remembering his encounter with Patrick Sellar. “Oh, aye. I mind you fine. We came upon a family of Sutherland’s tenants along the road. Said Patrick Sellar and his men had burned them out.”
“Bloody bastard.”
“When we stopped for mid-day meal in Latheron, I found Sellar in the public house.”
“What was he doing in Caithness County?”
“He didnae say. I asked him about the family, about burning out his tenants. He called them liars. When I told him I’d find him out, he threatened Lucy. He said, ‘Mind her carefully. The roads are crawling with highwaymen.’”
His father shot him a dark look. “Sellar’s a ruthless man. If he thought Lucy was a means to keep me silent, there’s no telling what he might do.”
“Do you think Sellar sent those men to hurt Lucy?”
His father took another sip of whisky. “Maybe. Maybe not. They that attacked you may have been Sellar’s men or highwaymen. Either way, never let your guard down. Lucy is safe here at Balforss, but go canny when you’re outside the estate. Dinnae doubt Sellar’s threat. Mind her carefully, son.”
“If she’ll let me near her.”
“Oh Jesus. What have you done?” His father dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Alex confessed his folly. Much to his consternation, his father didn’t seem at all surprised.
“Dinnae fash, Alex. Women dinnae stay angry for long.”
“You think she’ll forgive me?”
“Aye. She’ll forgive you.” He added ruefully, “Mind you, she’ll never forget.”
Hercules whined at Alex’s feet. “What do you want?”
“It’s no’ going to answer you,” John said as if he were talking to a turnip.
Disgusted, Alex picked up the dog. “I’ll feed it. That might shut him up for a bit.”
It was a warm, late summer afternoon, the kind Alex didn’t like to waste indoors. He carried Lucy’s beastie outside and around the back of the house to the kitchen, certain the cook would find something for the dog. The smell of cooked meat and boiled potatoes floated out of the kitchen door along with the sound of Mrs. Swenson inside, banging pots and barking orders.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Swenson.” He kissed the small but sturdy woman on the cheek.
“Och, ye gomeril. Stop your flirting. You know I’ll feed you.” She looked at Hercules with an appraising eye, as though considering whether the dog would be best boiled or roasted. “What’s this you brought me?”
“It’s no’ for eating. It’s Miss Lucy’s pet.” He set Hercules on the floor.
Mrs. Swenson continued to stare at it, looking confounded.
“It’s a dog,” he clarified.
“Best keep it indoors. A hawk’s like to take it for a rabbit.”
“So I’ve been told. Have you got anything to feed it?”
“What does it eat?”
“Dinnae ken. I saw Miss Lucy feed it scraps of meat once.”
Mrs. Swenson dropped some minced beef in a bowl. “See if he’ll take this, then.” She sat on a milk stool and placed the bowl in front of Hercules.
Instead of eating, he gazed up at the cook with adoring eyes.
“What’s the matter, dog? You dinnae like it raw?” she asked. “Shall I cook it for you first?”
Without warning, Hercules hopped onto her lap, causing the cook to let out a whoop. He tickled her chin with dog kisses. Alex had never heard Mrs. Swenson giggle before.
“Do you want someone to feed you, my wee mannie?” she said, talking to him like he was a baby. She picked up the bowl and hand-fed the bits of meat to Hercules. He chewed and swallowed, all the while gazing adoringly at the cook.
“Looks like you have a new friend.”
Mrs. Swenson feigned irritation with Alex. “Och, take a cake and be gone with you.”
He plucked a small raisin cake from a mound of baked goods, kissed her again, and crammed the entire thing into his mouth. On the way back to the house, he encountered Lucy. She had removed her bonnet and jacket as well as the lacy piece of clothing that covered her shoulders and chest. Some of her curly black locks of hair had come unpinned and bounced around on the swells of her breasts, leaving him spellbound.
“Where’s Hercules?” she asked, as though accusing him of losing her dog. “I have been looking all over for him.”
Mouth still filled with cake, he struggled to swallow, but only succeeded in choking. Pointing at the kitchen door, Alex watched Lucy march off in a huff. At last, he swallowed a mass of cake the size of a crabapple, and wiped his mouth. He remained in the middle of the yard, waiting, half expecting to hear Mrs. Swenson and Lucy break into an argument over the dog. To his relief, Lucy exited the kitchen with Hercules and the cook, both women laughing. Mrs. Swenson pointed to the sky and Lucy nodded. Warning Lucy about the hawk?
She crossed the yard, smiling. The smile disappeared,
however, when she met his eyes. She swept past him without a word, nose in the air. Some inexplicable force compelled him to follow her.
…
Lucy smiled inwardly. He’d followed her inside the house. One footstep for every two of hers echoing down the back hallway. For a reason she didn’t understand completely, she liked him tagging along behind.
“Lucy,” he said. Although the familiar use of her Christian name still rankled her, the tone of his soft, rumbling voice made her stop. His steps slowed. Closer. Closer, until his warm breath rippled through her hair.
“What is it?” Her words gave away the tremor in her voice.
Hercules wriggled in her arms, excited by Alex’s nearness. She shifted the pup over her shoulder and patted Hercules on the back to reassure him, but he only calmed when Alex reached out and stroked his little head.
“Will you talk to me?” he asked.
The heat of his whisper burned the back of her neck. “I’m to meet your mother in her parlor. What do you have to say?”
“Please look at me.”
His voice, so gentle, so sincere, touched her. When she turned, Hercules’s wriggling only increased. Alex caught the pup just as she was about to drop him. He immediately relaxed in the Scot’s embrace. The memory of resting in Alex’s warm arms flushed across her cheeks. Lucy wanted to be angry with Alex. She wanted to punish him for his deceit. But being so near to him unbalanced her.
“Lucy. Please look at me.” His intimate murmur dissolved her anger.
She gazed into his grey eyes, not the steely eyes of the soldier she’d seen on her journey here, but the soft, imploring eyes of a man who wanted her to see him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was wrong. I dinnae expect you to understand—”
“No. I don’t under—”
“Please listen.” Pleading. Alex was pleading with her.
She would have listened. Lucy wanted to hear why he had played such a silly, juvenile trick. But his eyes distracted her. A thin ring of grey around dark pupils. Delicate blond lashes, almost invisible, flitted up and down as he spoke. Ginger-blond eyebrows knit together. Wisps of tawny hair had escaped his queue. The light from the window behind him illuminated the curls creating a halo of gold around his head.
And his Roman nose—long, straight, and narrow. The only strikingly male feature on his face. It transformed the other pretty parts—eyes, brows, lips—into an utterly masculine countenance.
He smelled of the spice cake he had just eaten. A crumble of it clung to the corner of his sweet lips and she wanted to reach up and…
“Lucy?”
The sound of her name brought her back to the moment. “Yes.”
“Will you forgive me?” His question hung in the air by a thread, so tentative was his asking.
Over the last three days, he had been irritated, amused, violent, and brooding. Not once had he been uncertain. This vulnerable moment nudged at her heart, yet she wasn’t ready to release him. Not until she had exacted the retribution she rightly deserved.
“You have a bit of cake,” she said pointing to her own mouth.
A moment of confusion in his eyes, before Alex’s tongue, pink and wet, slipped out and licked off the crumb. A corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. “Better?” he asked.
Lucy’s shoulders stiffened. By the leer breaking out on Alex’s face, he knew very well the effect he was having on her. His cocksure smile reignited her anger.
Infuriating Scot.
Spell broken, she spun around on her heel and opened the nearest door. It was a storage room of some sort. Feeling foolish, she shut the door, and tried another that led to an unfamiliar room. Merde. She was lost in this confounded maze of a house.
“This way,” Alex said, and continued down the hall. Lucy detected more amusement in his voice and struggled to disguise her irritation. She followed him out into the large entry, up the stairs, and into Flora’s parlor. Alex set Hercules on the carpet and strode across the room to his mother seated by the fireplace.
Mother Flora set her needlework down and rose to embrace her son. “Alex. I haven’t properly welcomed you home.”
He kissed his mother’s cheek. Lucy noted with a bump in her heart the tenderness in that kiss.
“Did Cook find you something to eat?” Flora asked.
“Oh, aye.”
“Good. Go and wash for supper while Lucy and I take some time to get acquainted. You’ve had her for three days. Now it’s my turn.” Flora patted Lucy on the arm. “Come and sit with me, dear. Have some tea and cake.”
As he passed, Alex rumbled in her ear, “We’ll talk more after supper.” Then he left, closing the parlor door gently after him.
Hercules went to the door and whined. “Viens ici, mon cher,” Lucy called. He trotted back and hopped into her lap.
“I see you’ve found your pet. What a sweet wee thing,” Flora said. “It’s a dog, is it no’?”
“Yes. He’s a gift from my father.”
“Your father, the duke?”
“Yes. Hercules is very well behaved. Everyone loves him once they get to know him. He’s not much use hunting or catching vermin like a hound or a terrier, but he’s good company. I’m never lonely when Hercules is with me. He’s my best friend, really.” Lucy was surprised so much was tumbling out. She didn’t realize how starved she’d been for female company. This was the first time since she left Maidstone Hall that she felt truly at ease.
“I can tell he’s a good companion.” Flora’s smile was genuine rather than the plastered-on smile so many women donned at luncheons. “Will you have milk and sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
Flora added a substantial dollop of milk and shoveled two heaping teaspoons of sugar into her cup, exactly the way Lucy liked her tea. The moment she had seen Flora smiling down on her from the front steps of Balforss, she’d known they would be great friends. Her handsome face was open and sincere. A rarity.
She handed Lucy the delicate china cup and saucer. “I know you must be missing your home already. Your father, of course, and I understand you have a brother.”
“Yes. His name is George. I suppose I miss my lady’s maid, too. Her name is Phillipa. She’s French. Like my mother.” Why had she mentioned her mother? A woman she’d never known? Why open herself to the raw scrutiny of her hostess?
“I find myself lonely at times, too.” Flora shifted the conversation seamlessly, as though sensing Lucy’s uneasiness. As though protecting Lucy from the discomfort of an awkward topic. Never in her life had Lucy met such a gracious lady.
“My daughter Margaret’s married and lives with her husband in Edinburgh.” Flora sighed with real longing. “We dinnae see them but on Hogmanay and Beltane. They cannae come for the wedding as she’s days away from giving birth to our first grandchild. Ian, my youngest, has joined the military like his da. We hope he will be home for the wedding. Will you have some cake?”
Flora was an attractive woman with the same tawny coloring as her son. The same kind grey eyes shone in the late afternoon light. The same blond brows and lashes. A few light red locks curled down from under her white cap. Her gown was cut from indigo wool that fit her slim figure beautifully. Although not stylish, it was well made with pewter buttons and trimmed with a fine Belgian lace collar. Pinned at the center of that collar, a charming silver adornment, heart-shaped with a tiny crown spanning the top and a rust-red stone in the center.
“What an unusual brooch.”
“Thank you. It’s precious to me. A token of love from John. This keepsake was first given to Alex’s three times Great-Grandmother Shona from her husband James Sinclair, the first Laird of Balforss, and has been passed down to every Lady Balforss since. You will wear it one day.”
The reminder of her impending union with Alex made her cheeks redden. Lucy dipped her head and took a polite bite of her cake. She closed her eyes and uttered an involuntary, “Mmm.”
Flora chuckled. “I’ll b
e sure to tell Mrs. Swenson you appreciate her molasses cake.”
“It’s delicious.” Hercules sat up and looked expectantly at the cake. “No, you little beggar. You’ve had your supper.” She set him down on the carpet and gave him a look of warning. “Behave yourself.”
The tension in Lucy’s shoulders eased. She liked Flora, and Flora seemed to like her. She didn’t feel as though she had to pretend to be anything more than who she was. Pretending was so exhausting. Perhaps life would not be so awful at Balforss. Certainly better than the humiliation of returning home a failure.
Lucy took another bite of cake.
“I trust you had a pleasant journey from Inverness?” Flora asked.
Her question triggered sharp memories of yesterday’s violence. She swallowed hard. “The truth is…” Lucy felt short of breath. Was this the proper time to reveal yesterday’s bloody business?
Flora chuckled again. “Never mind, a nighean. You must be exhausted. Finish your cake. Then I’ll take you to your room so you can have a rest. You’ll tell me all about your journey at supper.”
At her bedchamber door, Flora introduced the upstairs maid. “This is Haddie. She’ll wake you in plenty of time for supper.” She added before leaving, “I’m glad to have you here with us, Lucy. I hope you will be happy at Balforss.”
Lucy dumped Hercules onto the bed. He found a comfortable spot and curled up.
“I’ll jest put yer things awa’ in the cupboard.” Young Haddie was a rather ill-favored girl, impossibly thin with eyes close-set and spots on her face, but her smile was winning.
“That will be fine.”
While Haddie unpacked her trunk, Lucy made herself acquainted with her bedchamber. It was a homey room. Rough-hewn wood flooring, a floral Turkish carpet by the bed, and another in front of the hearth. A large cherry wardrobe stood in the far corner of the room, with a washstand, basin, and ewer next to it.
The carved oak bed was hung with wool bed curtains embroidered in an intricate, multicolored woodland pattern. The bedchamber’s one tall glazed window looked out over the front gardens blooming with lilies and daisies. A path from the garden led down through a small grove of trees, over a river and into a quiet glen. Beyond that, endless fields of green pastures dotted with sheep, and segmented by low stone walls.
Tying the Scot Page 8
