She turned, her purple eyes wide. Potter’s were just as round. Blast! Why had Potter chosen now to come in and bring him more bad news?
“Is there something else?” she asked quietly. “Mr. Potter wants—”
He pushed aside the laugh that bubbled in his throat, taunting him with the need that had been honed only by kissing her fingers when he ached to taste her soft lips. To speak of what Potter wanted might lead the conversation to discuss what he wanted as well.
And Anice? Did she yearn to be in his arms as much as he wished her there?
He vowed, as he watched her walk back toward the path to Ardkinloch, to find out.
Five
Anice raised her eyes to watch a golden eagle soar over the hills. Patting Pippy on the head, she smiled as Bonito came over the crest of the ridge to see what they were doing. Pippy and Bonito were closer than littermates, even though she suspected they often baffled each other with their unique ways.
As Lucais baffled her. Or was she more puzzled with her own actions? Three days had passed since he had lured her into his arms in his tent, but the heat of his lips on her skin still burned on her fingers.
She was being fanciful. That was most unlike her. How many times had Mother remarked that Anice had inherited her grandmother’s propensity toward common sense? So many times, because Mother often had chosen to live in a way that no one would deem sensible.
Lowering her gaze to the valley, Anice could pick out with ease where the men were working on the road that had come north from Edinburgh and would cut through the heart of the glen. Dust rose from the site where they had torn away part of the hillside with a huge explosion that morning. The very walls of Ardkinloch had shuddered. She had come out here, half expecting to see the remains of Dhùin Liath tumbling down into the river, but the old castle had weathered the concussion far better than the newer manor house.
Within Ardkinloch, everything was a bumble-bath. It had taken most of the morning to clean up the shards of broken glass and pottery that had crashed to the floor and shattered, but that had been the simple part. Two of Anice’s great-aunts had taken to their beds, certain the end of the world had arrived. A cousin who was only a few years older than Neilli and already expecting her fourth child refused to come out of her room, fearing that the sound would deafen her unborn babe. All her great-uncles, uncles, and male cousins—probably a score in all—had decided the noise could be dealt with only by swallowing generous portions of whisky.
And all of them had wanted to complain or demand an explanation or expect an apology from Anice. She had come up here not only to check the old castle but to escape her family’s voices yet again.
Lucais had sent word last night that the blasting would begin that morning. Neither she nor anyone else in Ardkinloch had guessed the power of the gunpowder sending the stone and dirt up into a hideous gray cloud.
Pippy gave a low rumble in his throat. Quickly Anice glanced around, then relaxed when she saw her cousin walking toward her. Neilli was rocking her bonnet in her hand. Only when Neilli paused by her did Anice see that the bonnet was filled with wildflowers.
“What a hash they are making of our glen!” grumbled Neilli as she sat beside Anice on the low outcropping of stone.
“It will never be the same, I fear.”
“You should make him leave.”
Anice chuckled tightly. “Do you think that I can order a representative of the government to go away? Beyond this valley, I fear the Kinloch name does not have much influence.”
“There are other kinds of influence.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Neilli shuddered. “Not that, Anice. I pity you for every moment you have to spend in his wretched company. It must be so horrible for you.”
“Horrible is not the word I would use to describe it.”
A laugh came from behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, she stared up at Lucais, who was standing directly behind her. Why hadn’t Pippy warned her that he was approaching? The dog had growled when Neilli came along the path but had remained silent when Lucais was sneaking up on them. Pippy’s tail wagged wildly as Lucais stepped down to the path.
“I am glad you would not use the word horrible,” Lucais said with another laugh. “A man does not like to hear that word associated with him.”
“Then,” Neilli said, coming to her feet, “he should make a greater effort to be less intolerable.”
“Neilli!” scolded Anice.
“Do not chide me for speaking my mind,” her cousin returned. “I say nothing more than most folks wished they could. It would be for the best if these intolerable men went back to England and did not return.”
Lucais bent his head slightly toward her. “I appreciate your honesty, Miss Kinloch.”
“I doubt that.” With a sniff, she picked up her bonnet and hurried toward the house.
Anice wished she could think of something to say. Apologizing for Neilli’s behavior would be silly. Neilli was not sorry she had said what she had. In fact, Anice suspected that her cousin rather appreciated the chance to air her opinions.
“Do you appreciate everyone’s honesty?” she asked in lieu of an apology.
“May I?” He gestured toward where Neilli had been sitting.
“Of course.”
Settling himself comfortably on the rock, he bent to scratch Pippy’s ears. “I would appreciate everyone’s honesty if everyone was being honest.”
“That sounds like a riddle.”
“It isn’t.”
Anice drew up her feet and wrapped her arms around her legs. When she saw Lucais’s astonishment, she did not shift. She liked to sit like this and enjoy the view of the valley. “Then I fear you will have to enlighten me.”
“I had hoped that you would enlighten me.”
“Another riddle.”
“No, another attempt to persuade you to be candid with me.”
“About the road project?” She laughed as Bonito trotted toward them. “It has unsettled everyone and everything on the Kinloch lands, even poor Bonito here. I believe he feared the very earth was shifting beneath him. He scurried into the barn, and for the first time since he arrived here left the sheep to their own devices.” She chuckled again. “Not that it mattered. They followed him at the best speed they could manage into the barn and then right back out when things started falling off the shelves.”
“I sent a message to warn you.”
“We did not take you as seriously as we should have.” She shook her head. “We will heed the warnings more closely if you do additional explosive work.”
“If?” He regarded her with a frown. “Are you suggesting that you intend to stop us from further blasting?”
“Must you take everything I say as a sign that I am seeking a way to halt the road?”
“Must you take everything I say as an excuse for a brangle?”
“When you use that sharp tone, yes, I must.”
When Lucais laughed heartily, Anice stared at him. He was the most bewildering person she had ever met.
“I will keep that in mind,” he said. “Before you ask, I came up here only to see how Ardkinloch and the old castle survived this morning’s blasting.”
“It appears that Dhùin Liath is stable. Inside the manor house there were some problems, but nothing that we can’t take care of before the next time.”
“Are you sure the castle is all right?”
She frowned. “It looks so from here.”
“Do you ever go in it?”
“I did some exploring when I first arrived here, but it’s not wise to spend too much time there.”
“Odd.”
“What is odd?” she asked, wondering why he was being incomprehensible again.
“Potter mentioned some of the lads were sure they had seen lights up at the old castle last night.”
She laughed. “No doubt they saw moonlight through the windows in the remnants of the inner wall. They aren’t the
first to be bamblusterated by the illusion.”
“Keep a watchful eye on the castle.”
“I will, although I think it is unnecessary.”
“You consider many important things unnecessary.” He leaned toward her, his hand sliding behind her.
Although he did not touch her, he seemed to surround her, teasing her to move the bare inch that would bring her into his arms. It took all her strength to move away and stand. When her gaze was captured by his, she knew she had only to put her hands on his wide shoulders and he would pull her close enough to sample his lips.
“What I consider necessary is fulfilling my obligations to my family,” Anice said.
His smile vanished as he set himself on his feet. “An obligation you did not ask to have dumped on you.”
“No, but it is my duty now to oversee my family’s affairs.”
“Which leaves you no time for your own.”
That too-familiar flame of embarrassment swept up her face. “You should not speak so.”
“’Tis your thoughts, not my words, that are leading this conversation in a most intriguing direction.” His finger brushed her cheek along the ribbons of her straw bonnet. “You must not let your own thoughts do me damage in your eyes.”
Again, although it was the hardest thing she had ever done, she stepped back. “I need to return to Ardkinloch to do … to do …” She could not think of a lie when she could read such a fierce truth in his eyes. He wanted to kiss her, and she wished he would.
But she knew how little privacy she truly had. As if she has spoken those words aloud, she heard a shout from farther down the hill. She pulled her gaze from Lucais’s and waved to her aunt, who was motioning for her to come to the manor house.
“I must go,” Anice said, knowing her voice sounded as lame as her excuse. “Aunt Coira has even less patience than Neilli and Parlan.”
“I shall not keep you here a moment longer than you wish to stay.”
She nodded and started to turn, then faltered. Looking back, she saw his eyes were twinkling again. Lucais MacFarlane possessed her third stepfather’s gift of giving words more than one meaning. And he possessed her most recent stepfather’s ability to see past her façade to determine what she was hiding in her heart. A very dangerous combination, especially when she was not completely sure what she was keeping in the depths of her heart.
Lucais ran his hand along the side of the rock that was jutting out of the hill. They must take care with this section. It would not be removed easily. At the same time, they must make sure the whole edge of the hill was not loosened. Nothing was simple here. He did have to be grateful that on this far side of the river from Killiebige, the explosions would not shake the village quite so badly.
He kicked a rock and watched it sail into the air before splashing in the river. Spanning this stretch of water was going to be a challenge. The river’s course seldom remained the same from season to season. The bridge would need to be sturdy to withstand floods and droughts. Mayhap they should have determined a way to control the Abhainn an Uruisg before designing this bridge.
Walking back to where he had left his horse, he looked at a pier that had been abandoned by the river. Now it was set in the midst of a muddy plain. A small barge edged across the current. When he saw a trio of sheep and two children perched in the middle of the barge, which was little more than a raft, he smiled in spite of himself. He recalled sneaking away from home to seek adventure on a distant shore. It had not mattered that it was simply a river’s breadth away. Then it had seemed like a grand voyage of exciting discovery.
His smile broadened as he swung up into the saddle. This project was going to be a challenge, which was the only reason he had let the engineering company persuade him to come back to Scotland. If all went as he hoped, he would make this his swan song, a success that he could recall when he was burdened with obligations he never had expected—or wanted—to be his.
When Lucais saw a slender form walking along the lane in front of him, he arched a brow. No matter where he went, it seemed that his path eventually crossed Anice Kinloch’s. He had no complaint with that save that each encounter whetted the craving to touch her. Her fiery red hair matched the potent passions in her eyes.
But here on this side of the river? This might be some grand jest, he decided, as he stared at the elegant house that was set upon a low hill beyond a long stone wall that snaked along the crest and down toward the riverbank. He had been furious when he learned that he was being sent here instead of the Pennines. Yet his promise to complete this final project for his partners had kept him from saying no even though he wanted to curse the twist of fate that had brought him back to the banks of the Abhainn an Uruisg.
He set the horse to a faster pace along the narrow, twisting path. Turning, Anice revealed her surprise, then her eyes narrowed, reminding him that all her emotions were not sweet. This strong-willed woman would not relent in her resolve to do what she believed was her duty.
“Did you follow me here?” she asked as he neared.
“Not exactly.” He swung down off the horse. Looking up at the stone gates, he asked, “Have you decided to give your neighbors on this side of the river a look-in?”
“It seemed like a good idea. I wish to know what others are thinking about your work here.”
“Or are you trying to escape from Ardkinloch and the opinions there?”
Anice laughed, the anger vanishing from her eyes. “It might be a bit of both.”
“After hearing about the brangle your cousin was part of last night at the tavern in Killiebige, I should have suspected as much.”
“Parlan was simply boasting.” She laced her fingers together in front of her. “Not exactly boasting when he told Mr. Potter that he could outshoot any Englishman working for you. Parlan is an excellent marksman.”
“How excellent?”
“He did not shoot at us!” Anice turned to walk through the gates of Chester Hills. When Lucais’s hand settled on her arm, she turned, startled. Not just at his brazen motion but at her reaction to it. Something warm inside her urged her to forgive him for being so bold … and for anything else he might do. She must have taken a knock in the cradle to be so silly. After all, her ears still rang with Neilli’s outrage that Anice had not followed her immediately back to Ardkinloch two days before, when Lucais had stopped to speak with them.
“Just being seen with him,” Neilli had argued, “will label you his ally.”
“That is ridiculous,” Anice had answered as she paced her bedchamber in Ardkinloch.
“Is it? If you heard the talk in the village, you would know you need to be careful.”
“I do not need to hear any poker-talk to know the need for caution.” Anice set her bonnet on the chaise longue by her bedroom window overlooking the valley below. Realizing she was staring in the direction of the road camp, she looked back at her cousin, who was bristling with her fury. “Neilli, I appreciate your counsel, but consider this. Making the roadmen furious might cause more trouble for this glen.”
“You do not care about all the roadmen. Just Lucais MacFarlane.”
“He has been most pleasant.”
Neilli had sniffed her disbelief. “If you are going to show a want of sense, then I must speak with Parlan without delay on this.”
Anice shivered as she recalled her cousin’s words, even though she doubted if Neilli had had a chance to speak with Parlan about that conversation. Parlan had not been at Ardkinloch for the past two days. Even Neilli seemed unsure where he might be, saying only that her brother liked to go hunting among the upper reaches. Anice had believed he was there until she heard about the uproar over the conversation between Parlan and Mr. Potter at the tavern.
“Anice, I did not mean to suggest that your cousin took aim on us,” Lucais said, drawing her attention back to him.
“Then why did you ask?”
“Trying to keep the conversation going while I devise an excuse to join you
on this call.”
“Why?” She frowned. Until then, Lucais had been one of the most logical persons she had ever met. Could it be that the Highlands drained away all good sense? That was a simple explanation for all the silliness she had endured since she’d come here.
“I said I had no excuse.”
When he gave her a lopsided grin, Anice laughed. She appreciated his honesty after the uneasy questions she had received from Mr. Tawes on her way to take Mr. McNab’s ferry across the river. If Killiebige’s mayor had been as sincere with the English government instead of trying to gather their favor at the same time he vowed to his neighbors that he would keep the road from being built, the glen would not be torn as it was.
And you would not have met Lucais. She did not try to silence that thought. Attempting to keep her rebellious mind in check had been futile, especially when the thin sunshine slicing through the clouds burnished his black hair with blue fire. His mud-splattered coat accented the strength of each motion while he tied his horse’s reins to a tree near the gates.
“Shall we, Anice?” he asked, offering his arm.
“As you can think of no excuse not to join me, yes.” She put her fingers on his arm. Her memories had not played her false, for his muscles were as hard as she recalled from when he had carried her to Ardkinloch. “I have not heard any explosions today.”
“Not from gunpowder at any rate.”
“Are you having trouble?” Anice did not want to think of trouble as they walked past neatly trimmed bushes that seemed so unlike the wild heather and brightly hued saxifrage along the river. Few plants had a chance of surviving within the walls of Ardkinloch, for the family had a tradition of bringing the sheep in. For safekeeping, she had been told, although she doubted anyone would be raiding the flock in this civilized age.
“The men are frustrated with the lack of welcome in Killiebige,” Lucais replied. Pausing in the middle of the road leading toward the front of the stone house that was so grand it seemed out of place here, he gave her a wry grin. “I had warned them, but I suppose they had to see the truth for themselves.”
A Highland Folly Page 6
