by Danice Allen
Adam had never implied any commitment. He was trying to discover for himself if commitment was something he really wanted to pursue. Ever since he’d kissed Miss Webster in the library at Leys Castle, he’d known that it was time he had a woman in his life … but not just any woman. That would be a heresy to Maggie’s memory. The trouble was, no one in Edinburgh had triggered the urge to, well, mate, like Miss Webster had so aptly done that stormy night in May.
“Miss Wolfe,” he began, “what think you of governesses?”
Taken aback by such an odd question, Jane blinked and said, “I hardly think of them at all. I had several as I grew up. 1 don’t even remember all their names. What think you of governesses, my lord?”
He smiled. “I think they are necessary to the proper education of children.”
She smiled back—a dazzling show of neat, white teeth—ready to go along with the conversation to please him, however pedestrian the topic. “Certainly, my lord.”
“But there are many different approaches to teaching, Miss Wolfe. Governesses may be strict, they may be confiding, they may be aloof, they may like to play with the children, or they may not. What sort of governess would you prefer for your own children?”
Apparently awakened to the fact that Lord Blair could be quizzing her in matters that might determine her marriageability, Jane gave the question some thought. It was disappointing to Adam when she predictably inquired, “What type of governess do you prefer, my lord?”
Adam suppressed his exasperation. “There must have been one or two of your governesses you liked above the others, or one, at least, that you remember the most.”
Again Jane paused, her nose wrinkling prettily, her lips pursed in thought. She had luscious lips—kissable lips. So why didn’t he want to kiss them? Suddenly she giggled. “Well, there was one we liked rather well. She was so odd. I confess we laughed at her expense quite often, the poor, timid creature. She disliked worms, you see…”
Adam assumed a look of smiling interest and let his thoughts wander. Her beauty notwithstanding, conversing with Jane was about as stimulating as watching the clock tick. Insipid, predictable, plodding. He could never say the same about Miss Letitia Webster. He played a game of word association, comparing Jane and Letitia to sundry everyday things. For example: Jane, vanilla. Letitia, cinnamon.
Jane, oatmeal. Letitia, Indian curry.
Jane, a daisy. Letitia, a wild, full-blown rose.
Jane, pale green—like her eyes, her dress, her conversation.
Letitia, red—like the highlights in her hair, like her spirit, her passion, her zest for life.
So why was he sitting in a rowboat with Jane while Letitia romped with his children on the highland moors? Why, indeed! But he supposed he’d needed this trip away from Leys Castle to understand the mixed and turbulent feelings Letitia Webster had caused in his life. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t just desiring her because she was comely and because she was available. Newly reawakened to an awareness of the female sex, he wanted to make sure there was no one else who engendered in him that same urge to settle down. To hold and to be held. To entrust his heart into another human being’s keeping. Yes, he was finally willing to take the chance of wanting something—someone—so badly that he was vulnerable to pain again. Ah, Letitia. Quick-witted, courageous, wise, loving, and impudent. Could he make her love him?
Letitia shook the grass, tiny flower petals, and stems from the linen and folded it neatly. Dark-bellied clouds had collected over the moor, and she and the children would need to hurry back to the castle to avoid a soaking. Kyle and Mary had been revivified by the tasty food Nurse packed for nuncheon, and now they chased each other, laughing, through the reddish-brown heather.
Letitia waved a summons. “Time to go!” Neither child seemed to hear her or to notice her upheld arm.
“Kyle! Mary! We’re going to be rained on if we don’t leave right away. Come along!”
The children stopped running, but their attention had been caught by something besides Letitia. They were faced away from her, staring in a southerly direction. She turned to see what they were looking at. It was a man on a horse. It was … Lord Blair! Like the children, Letitia could only stare. He had left in a coach, but he was returning on a horse, and much sooner than she had anticipated. It had only been a month ago when she’d watched sadly from her bedchamber window as the carriage disappeared down the Edinburgh road.
As complex feelings ran through her she watched him approach now. Excitement, fear, dread, toe-curling admiration … love. He had slowed his roan mount to a brisk walk. He was hatless, his hair tousled by the wind of the approaching storm. He wore a blue jacket, buckskin breeches, and top boots. He looked comfortable and agile on the horse, easily controlling the animal with the subtle movements of his fingers as they lightly held the reigns. His wonderfully long legs pressed just as subtly against the horse’s flanks, reminding Letitia of the strength she’d felt in them as they’d pressed against her own legs that stormy night last month.
As he slowed to a halt next to the children, his eyes held hers for a moment before they lowered and focused on Kyle and Mary. In that instant, as their eyes met, she’d felt an electrifying connection. He hadn’t smiled. He hadn’t shown by any gesture that he was glad to see her. But there had been an intensity in that look that was at once gratifying and terrifying.
“Hello, children. Haven’t you a word of welcome for your father?” His voice was cajoling, his smile broad and genuine.
“Hello, Dada,” they chorused together, no doubt delighted by his unexpectedly warm greeting.
“Did you bring my book, Dada?” Kyle was emboldened to ask.
“Yes, but it’s in the carriage, several miles behind me. I’ll fetch it out of my portmanteau tonight, Kyle, and read to you and Mary, just as I promised.”
“Why didn’t you come in the carriage, Dada?” asked Mary. She pointed toward the darkened sky. “It’s going to rain, and you’ll get wet.”
“It seems to me we’re all going to get wet in a moment. Miss Webster, what are you doing exposing the children to a possible soaking?”
The words were disapproving, but Lord Blair’s tone of voice was gently teasing. Letitia felt confusion overcome her. Apparently his softened attitude toward the children extended to her as well. There was no deciphering his feelings, however. His green eyes were unflinchingly direct, but unreadable.
Letitia avoided that unnerving steadfast gaze of his and answered, “The storm came up suddenly. We were just about to return to the castle when the children caught sight of you.”
“I’m sure it was a surprise to see me so soon. I’m usually gone two months to Edinburgh.”
“Oh.” Another intelligent reply, Letitia derided herself, suddenly remembering that she was wearing her oldest dress, an ill-fitting faded blue sprigged muslin. Her hair, so neatly bundled into a chignon that morning, now fell loose down her neck, the wind blowing tendrils about her face. She made a fruitless effort to push back her hair with one hand, and with the other hand she smoothed her gown over her hip. She shivered when she noticed him watching her movements with interest.
“Oh, look at that bird, Dada!” Kyle was pointing at a large osprey flying in unusual circles and swoops above them. Lord Blair’s keen gaze shifted away from Letitia, allowing her to breathe freely again.
“It’s showin’ off,” said Mary disgustedly, her hands on her hips, her head bent back to watch the bird.
“But it is rather amazing, Mary,” said Letitia, shading her eyes as she, too, followed the bird’s spiraling antics. Despite the unnerving presence of Lord Blair, Letitia was fascinated by the bird’s acrobatic flying. She’d never seen anything like it before. “What does it have in its mouth? A twig?”
“A sprig of heather,” said Lord Blair. Suddenly another bigger bird appeared and began flying with the first one. “She’ll drop it soon.”
“What’s the heather for, Dada?” asked Kyle.
&nbs
p; “It’s a female osprey, Kyle. By carrying the heather in her beak, she’s letting it be known that she wants a mate … a male osprey, you know. If she approves of this braw fellow who’s trying so hard to impress her, she’ll drop the heather, and they’ll fly off to build a nest together.”
“Oh!” said Mary, finally impressed. “Then there’ll be baby birds!”
“Yes, Mary,” said Lord Blair, a laugh in his voice.
“I had no idea birds were so … resourceful,” said Letitia, still watching the birds.
“Rather I would call them romantic, Miss Webster.”
Letitia’s gaze clashed with Lord Blair’s, then both pairs of eyes skittered away. The birds’ behavior was easily comparable with that of human beings; for example, the way a lady used her fan to flirt and send messages of availability to the male sex. Even with her eyes a woman could quite ably convey an interest in a desirable gentleman of her acquaintance. And if the man chose to “fly” with her, they’d build a nest.
“Dada, Miss Tish says the moors are full of ed-u-ca-tion-al ma-ter-i-als,” said Kyle self-importantly, proud to have said two long words in the same sentence.
“Indeed? Well, as usual, Miss Tish is quite right.”
Thrilled to be conversing on such equal footing with his father, Kyle further informed him, “Miss Tish says curiosity didn’t kill the cat, like other people say. It just made ’im smarter! She says we should be curious about everything around us so we’ll learn.”
Lord Blair shifted Letitia another swift enigmatic glance. “Yes,” he murmured, “there are merits to curiosity.”
Letitia nervously bit her bottom lip. Why was he being so agreeable?
Finally the osprey did drop the heather, and soon the birds had become small brown dots against the gray clouds.
“They’d better hurry and build their nest or they’ll get wet,” said Mary.
“We’ll all be wet in a minute,” said Kyle, mimicking his father. “You were right to hurry ahead of the carriage, Dada.”
“I timed my return very well, didn’t I?” said Lord Blair.
“Why did you come back from Edinburgh so soon?” Letitia was stunned by her own audacity. It was certainly none of her concern why Lord Blair had concluded his business, or pleasure, in Edinburgh. Mayhap he’d found a bride and had come back to prepare for the wedding. Letitia prayed that wasn’t true. If it was his reason for returning early, she’d have to leave Leys Castle for sure. She couldn’t bear to see him with another woman. Oh, Letitia, how foolish you are! she scolded herself.
“I had an appointment to keep, Miss Webster,” Lord Blair answered. “Don’t you remember? I said we would meet in a month’s time to discuss the children again.”
“I hardly thought you would feel it necessary to curtail your trip to keep an appointment with me, Lord Blair,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the carpet of heather at her feet.
“I always keep my appointments.” He paused, and she felt his scrutiny. “Tonight, at seven, you will dine with me.”
Letitia’s head jerked up. “Dine with you?”
“I promised you a chaperon, didn’t I? What better way to ensure your safety during our interview than to have Belnap and his host of footmen hovering nearby, watching over the dinner courses and the governess at the same time? What think you of my plan, Miss Webster?”
If it had been Jane Wolfe he’d asked for an opinion, Adam knew exactly what response he’d get. But Miss Webster was not so eager to please at the expense of her own integrity. She’d been timid and humble—shy—so far. Showing up so unexpectedly, he’d taken her by surprise. And he’d been intentionally neutral in his treatment of her, trying to gauge her response to him and gradually introduce her to his own enlightened feelings. Though she had demonstrated a physical attraction to him the night of the storm, he didn’t know how involved her emotions were. He must pace himself. Now he saw her old assertiveness returning. Her chin lifted fractionally. Her eyes sparkled.
“I do not care to be lumped in the same category as the pigeon pie, my Lord Blair, but Belnap’s presence is welcome,” she coolly pronounced. “I will dine with you if you deem it the most convenient way to dispatch your business with me.”
Adam suppressed an almost overwhelming desire to laugh out loud. How he loved her feistiness! Poker-faced, he replied, “At seven, then.” He pulled his gaze away from Miss Webster’s delightfully flushed countenance and again regarded the children. They were staring at him, eager to be noticed. Why had he never realized how desperately they wanted his attention? Maggie’s death, like the blight of winter, had deadened him to the influence of his children’s love, to the very beauty of life around him—human and natural. He had to make up for his aloofness.
“Children, would you like a ride back to the castle?”
Kyle and Mary squealed and danced a jig, leaving no doubt that they were well pleased with such a plan. He reached down and pulled each one up, placing Mary in front of him and Kyle behind. They held on tightly, their faces alight with pleasure. Adam felt his own heart swell measurably. Allowing himself to love them felt quite satisfying. He looked down at Miss Webster. A tiny smile teased at her lips, though she seemed to be trying to suppress it.
“I’d offer you a ride, too, Miss Webster,” he said soberly, “but there’s no room, you see. 1 could come back for you.”
The suggestion of a smile vanished. “That won’t be necessary. I walk quickly.”
Adam lifted a hand, palm up. “It begins to sprinkle.”
“Nothing to signify. Children, we will recommence your lessons at one-thirty.” She picked up the luncheon basket and cloth and, gripping her skirt in her spare hand, did truly begin to walk with admirable speed toward the castle. Adam watched her for a moment before urging his horse to a gentle canter. Lord, but she was a sassy lass! He could well imagine how spirited her lovemaking would be, if properly encouraged and nurtured by the right man. Would she consider him the right man? he wondered. Would she drop the heather sprig for him? Beginning with dinner, he’d soon find out.
Letitia was having considerable trouble swallowing. Course after course, her nervousness refused to desert her. Sitting with Lord Blair at the elegant dining table, Letitia felt as though she were in a particularly anxious dreamlike state.
Yes, she must be dreaming, because the scene before her couldn’t be more perfect. The table was fashionably devoid of a cloth and softly lit by an ornate centerpiece candelabra. The gleaming china reflected in the mahogany finish of the well-polished table, and the crystal goblets and tumblers fairly shimmered. Imported from Denmark, she surmised, running her fingertip along the rim of her wineglass, and startling herself by the responding bell-like tone of authenticity that rang through the room.
Lord Blair looked up from carving his pheasant and raised a brow. Belnap eyed her, too, but he had an expression of compassion on his face. So far he’d been a stalwart chaperon, seeming to commiserate with her nervousness. But he did not appear to disapprove of her having dinner with Lord Blair. He should disapprove, she thought rather petulantly. It wasn’t proper at all.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make a noise,” she said.
“I don’t mind,” Lord Blair returned amiably. “Little enough noise has come from that end of the table. You usually have so much to say, Miss Webster. Cat got your tongue, lass?”
He’d never called her “lass” before. Was it because she was wearing the russet dress again, the one she’d worn the night he kissed her? It had been a risky thing to do, but it was her best gown, and dining with an aristocrat did justify a little dressing up, didn’t it? Or was it the wine that had loosened his Scottish brogue? She would prefer the latter explanation. Anything Scottish suited Letitia, especially the kilt Lord Blair wore tonight. She cleared her throat. “When it comes to the children, I suppose I can be quite vocal, yet you do not seem disposed to discuss them tonight. I thought that was the purpose of our dining together.”
Lord Blair
shrugged. She loved the way his shoulders looked in that green velvet jacket. “I spent some two hours with the children this afternoon. I could tell you’ve not wasted your time this past month.” He paused and slid her a rueful smile. “Despite your play periods. I am impressed. Nothing further need be discussed. I wouldn’t change a thing you’re doing.”
Letitia set down her fork and folded her hands in front of her, resting them on the table. Her fingers were intertwined tightly, all the better to keep them from shaking. He was being altogether too reasonable, too agreeable, too charming. “Then why are we dining together? ’Tis not the custom for a governess to sit at table with the lord and master of the household.”
Lord Blair rested his elbows on the table, forming a steeple with his splayed fingers. Above this loosely constructed flesh-and-bones edifice, Lord Blair’s eyes regarded her. “I thought you might be persuaded to tell me something about yourself. Not even the servants could tell me where you were born, or who your parents are.”
Letitia stiffened. “How do my origins concern you, my lord?”
“I’m simply interested, that’s all. I’d like to know more about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you know a great deal about me. Miss Grundy told me about your strolls through the portrait gallery and all your many questions about my predecessors. I feel it only fair that you, in turn, answer my questions.”
Letitia felt warmth flood her cheeks. “Living in a beautiful castle like this one, with so much history attached to it, you must be used to people’s interest in the McAllister clan. My interest was inspired by curiosity. By comparison, the Webster family history is very dull. I would bore you to tears recounting it.”
“I did not ask for a chronology of dates, events, and names.” He smiled teasingly. “Aren’t I entitled to indulge in a little curiosity, too? You deem it such a merit, you know. I was simply wondering about your immediate family. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
