“If you want my opinion of the road and the bridge, you should know that I think it is a long-overdue improvement that will bring only good things to all of those who live along this section of the Abhainn an Uruisg.”
Before she could answer, a voice said from the doorway, “I am pleased to hear that.”
Anice fought her feet, which wanted to whirl her around. Instead, she turned slowly to see Lucais standing there. The borrowed shirt he had accepted from the trunks in the attics of Ardkinloch was taut across his shoulders, but his boots had regained their bright polish.
Lord Chesterburgh replied, “I would expect you would be. It seems you and Lady Kinloch have already been introduced.”
“Yes, we have met,” Lucais said, glancing at her. She could not guess what he was trying to tell her with his intense gaze. A strain filled his voice, and she wondered why he acted as if he did not want to be there. He was as wary as he had been when they first met on the hill overlooking Ardkinloch. “She has been gracious enough to invite my men and me to be her guests at Ardkinloch until our replacement supplies arrive.”
“You are staying within Ardkinloch’s walls?” Lord Chesterburgh frowned. “That I had not heard.”
“If I will not embarrass her by being honest, I would say that Lady Kinloch has saved this project from utter failure.”
Anice’s face became ablaze as both men looked at her. Lucais’s face was rigid, and the marquess’s eyes were pale slits. “It was the least I could do,” she said.
“No, the least you could have done was nothing.” Lucais looked back at Lord Chesterburgh. “I thought you might be interested in some facts about the project.”
“I would indeed,” the marquess answered. “Would you care to join us, Lady Kinloch, and be enlightened?”
“Thank you, my lord, but Lucais”—she corrected herself when Lord Chesterburgh’s eyes narrowed again—“I mean Mr. MacFarlane has been kind enough to share the information with me already.” She took a step toward the door. “If you will excuse me, I will try to catch Mr. McNab before he returns to the other side of the river.”
She did not give either Lucais or Lord Chesterburgh a chance to respond as she rushed out of the room and down the stairs. The footman barely had a chance to open the door before she reached it and hurried through to the front steps. As she reached the gate, she took a deep breath.
Something had not been as it should have been in Chester Hills. Whatever it had been was intensified when Lucais arrived, although she could not imagine why. Mayhap if she found the letter the marquess had mentioned, she would understand.
Mayhap.
Eleven
As footfalls passed his door, Lucais looked up from the desk that had been moved into his room at Ardkinloch. He still, after almost a week as Anice’s guest, found it difficult to believe he was staying in this house—but not as a welcome guest by any stretch of the imagination. The staff avoided him and his men, and, except for Anice, no one spoke to them.
He had not seen Anice for the past two days. When he had asked about her, he had been told that she was busy overseeing her grandmother’s business. That made as little sense as her paying a call on his father at Chester Hills.
His hand slapped the desk as he stood. None of his men knew of his connection to anyone in the Highlands, and that had been the way he wanted to keep it. During a quick call at Chester Hills upon his arrival, he had left orders that no one was to acknowledge him as Lord Chesterton, the title that should have been his older brother’s burden. Then Birk had died, and the title had been dumped on him.
He had not suspected that his father would be here at this time of year, because Lord Chesterburgh preferred to spend most of the year visiting friends closer to London and return here only in the fall to enjoy hunting the red deer higher along the braes. His father would keep his counsel about that unwanted title, but only because the marquess knew that this would be Lucais’s last project before assuming the duties of heir to Chester Hills, and the project’s success would reflect on the whole family.
Once he had ascertained that his father had not blurted out the whole of the situation to Anice, Lucais had returned his thoughts to his work. The work was moving slowly on the bridge, because he could depend only on what he recalled of the plans.
A knock came at the door. “Come in,” he called.
“Mr. MacFarlane, a couple of questions.” Potter stuck his head past the open door.
Lucais forced a smile and tried not to sigh. Not for the first time he asked himself why he had agreed to give Potter another chance. The man had almost doomed the last project he had worked on by making some silly errors. Lucais’s partner had owed a favor to Potter’s family and was reluctant to dismiss him, so Lucais had decided to observe Potter’s skills for himself on this project. That had been a grave error, because Potter seemed incapable of the simplest logic in making decisions. That he had not created a disaster before this was the most remarkable thing of all.
In quick order, Lucais answered Potter’s questions. He waited for Potter to take his leave, but his assistant closed the door.
“I need to speak to you about something that should be for your ears only, Mr. MacFarlane,” he said, staring at the floor.
“Spill what you have to say.” Lucais tried to curb his impatience with the man. He should be grateful that Potter gave him something to consider other than his thoughts of Anice and her call on his father. That had been the most unbelievable part of this whole sojourn into the Highlands. He had known that Anice was not like her narrow-thinking family, but Lucais had been shocked to discover that he was. He never had guessed that she would put the warnings aside to call on anyone at Chester Hills, not just once, but a second time, even though she had known she might be rebuffed.
“How much longer before our supplies arrive?” Potter asked.
“By the week’s end if the weather holds.” He laughed tightly. “After all, the roads are finished to here.”
“Good.”
“You sound eager to leave the comfort of Ardkinloch for the rough life of sleeping beneath canvas.”
“I don’t trust these Kinlochs.” He scratched behind an ear. “I think they are the troublemakers who started the fire.”
“Do you have proof of that?”
“Not yet, but I can try to find some.”
“If you have proof, I will gladly listen. Until then, it would be better if you kept your suspicions about our hosts to yourself.”
Potter’s full face fell with his scowl. “I know you are sweet on Lady Kinloch, but you should not be blind to this family’s antics.”
“I am not blind to anything that has happened.”
“But—”
“It is inappropriate to discuss our hosts.”
Potter started to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He walked out, leaving the door open in his wake.
Lucais closed it. He turned to his desk and stared at the pages where he had been trying to re-create the plans for the bridge. Picking them up, he wadded them into a ball and tossed them toward his bed. Why was he wasting time on this worthless task?
He went along the hallway. When a maid glanced at him with a tentative smile, he almost laughed aloud. A flirtation with him would mean labeling the lass a traitor. Or was he the traitor to be here, accepting Anice’s hospitality without revealing the truth? The supplies that he had asked his father to send over to Ardkinloch had been turned away. Father had warned him that would happen, and Lucais had expected it as well. Yet, he had hoped the offer would allay the twinges of his conscience that reminded him endlessly of how he was deceiving Anice.
Mayhap if he had told her right from the beginning …
That was a joke, for she would have sent him on his way without another word. He never would have enjoyed the soft sweetness of her lips as he drew her into his arms.
The curse he snarled under his breath was savage. Those luscious kisses might turn bitter as unripened
berries when she learned the truth. He should tell her. He did not have a single good reason not to … except for the road project. If she chose to speak against it, the project might be doomed.
He grimaced at his own thoughts. There had to be a way to let her know the truth and still save the road project. A way that would keep her in his arms and not prevent the bridge from being built. All he had to do was find it.
Hearing a grumbled insult about Englishmen and their useless roads, Lucais flashed Miss Kinloch a smile as he passed her on the stairs. Lovely Neilli Kinloch had caught the eye of many of his men, and he had had to warn them not to be jobbernowls and try to engage her in conversation. Even if she did not snarl at them like a furious cat, she would find a way to make them sorry they had kept her from ignoring them.
He knew better than to ask Neilli Kinloch where Anice might be. She would lash out at him more vehemently. Bowing his head toward her, he continued down the stairs without speaking. Another jeer was aimed at his back. He ignored it as he went out the gate and up the hill.
As he had guessed he might on this warm afternoon, Lucais found Anice not far from the abandoned cottage. She was barefoot beneath her gown, and her bonnet bounced against her back as she tossed a stick to Pippy. The dog yelped with excitement as he chased it across the brae, scattering birds ahead of him. Lucais chuckled when he saw Bonito race after the dog as if Pippy were a recalcitrant sheep trying to escape the herd. Anice laughed too, the sound like the musical cascade of a burn along the hillside. When she clapped her hands and called to her dog, she sounded as carefree as a child.
Lucais put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Anice’s head turned as sharply as her pets’. He was glad her smile did not disappear while he climbed up to stand beside her on the ridge where the cottage perched.
“Do you want to toss this for Pippy awhile longer?” she asked as she handed him the well-chewed stick. “He does not seem to be tiring of playing here today.”
“Mayhap because he is excited to be back outside after his days within Ardkinloch.” He took the stick from her and sent it flipping end over end along the hill. “Just as you are.”
“I have been looking forward to escaping from behind the walls for a few minutes.”
“Only a few minutes?” He sat on a rock near the old well that had served the cottage. “You have been so busy the past few days that one would think you had vanished from Ardkinloch.”
She laughed as she perched beside him. “I could say the same to you. Even Neilli mentioned that you had spent most of your time in your room.”
“I am trying to re-create from memory the plans that were destroyed in the fire.” He rubbed his forehead. “I remember some of it, but a partially built bridge has few uses. The plans should be here soon.”
“But you are eager to begin work now.”
“I am eager to kiss you now.” He brushed her lips lightly with his. When she did not pull away as he had suspected she might, he slanted his mouth across hers.
She flung her arms around him, leaning against him. Delighted with her eager response, he drew her to her knees and bent forward to taste the ecstasy awaiting on her warm lips. With lovely Anice he could forget the other thoughts that had haunted him. She sent his desires soaring. Combing his fingers through her wildfire hair, he tasted the delectable warmth within her mouth.
She gripped his wrists as she balanced precariously against his leg. When his lips wooed hers into relinquishing the pleasure they both could share, her fingers slid back up his sleeves to his shoulders. As she clasped her hands around his nape, he sought to thrill her with a fiery shower of kisses along her neck. She trembled against him, and he was sure he would not be able to deny this need much longer.
He was not certain if she moaned or he did when he drew back and looked into her glazed eyes. He wanted her now. Here. In his arms as her uneven breath frayed what was left of his control.
But he must be honest with her. He could not attempt to dazzle her with fascinating arts when she did not know who he was.
“Anice … Sweetheart …”
She put her finger to his lips. “No, let me tell you something first. I came up here to be alone so I could think.”
“Then I came along.”
“And I do not think clearly when you are here.” She sat across his knees, resting her head against his chest. Her bonnet bounced to the ground as her hair tumbled down across his bare arm, each strand a mind-sapping caress.
“Nor do I, but I must tell you—”
“That I have a solution!” She sat straighter and smiled at him. “The very idea of how to create a sort of camaraderie between your men and the folks in Killiebige.”
“What is this brilliant idea you have devised?”
“An archery contest. Aunt Coira mentioned a few weeks ago how the family often has gone to such a contest in Edinburgh each year. Everyone can cheer on those who wish to compete. It would be friendly and give everyone a chance to think about something other than that dashed road.”
Was she out of her mind? Lucais muttered his favorite curse under his breath. There was too much trouble already. To put bows and arrows into the hands of enemies was to invite catastrophe. After the burning of the road camp, his men were eager to show these Highlanders their place.
Anice’s smile faded. “You think I have taken a maggot in the head.”
“Yes.”
“But it is a good idea. So many of the people around here still prefer to hunt with a bow and arrow. They are very skilled. Your men are from London. They will not have such an excellent ability to set an arrow flying.”
“So the villagers will have a chance to win before they lose their battle to keep the road and bridge from being completed.”
“Yes.” She sighed and stood, looking down at the valley. “This might be the last chance I have to make them feel as if they have kept even a bit of their pride.”
Getting up, he put his arms around her and drew her back against him. He whispered against her ear, “It is a mad idea, but I have none that is any better.”
“So you will ask your men to participate?”
“If you can persuade the villagers.”
She whirled to throw her arms around him again. “Thank you, Lucais. This could make all the difference.”
As he relished her soft lips, he tried not to think of what he had not told her. He must be honest with her. Yet as he drew her back to sit on his knees as their kiss deepened, he thought only … later.
The day was perfect. The sun was shining, and the barest hint of a breeze twisted through Anice’s hair. Laughter and children’s shouts of excitement filled the meadow behind the kirk. The archery contest would be held here, and then everyone was invited to a gathering at Ardkinloch. There would be music and dancing and excellent food. Mayhap if everyone enjoyed this day, they would treat one another with more respect and friendship.
She hoped so, but she saw no sign of that now. As she walked to where the competition would be held, she tried not to notice the frowns.
That was impossible when her cousin stopped directly in front of her. “This is not a good idea,” Neilli said without a greeting. “Was it yours or his?”
“It was mine,” Anice said.
“It is not a good idea.”
“I thought it was a better idea than letting folks get so bored, they thought of ways to create trouble.”
“Look around you! Do you think this will ease any of the concerns?”
Anice sighed as she looked at the crowd gathered to watch the contest. She sighed. The villagers stood on one side of the field and the navvies clumped on the opposite side.
Neilli grumbled something under her breath as she went to stand by Parlan. The two of them bent their heads together, and Anice sighed again. If she could not persuade her family to heed good sense, how could she hope to get the villagers to listen?
“I thought you would be here earlier,” came a voice from behind her.
She whirled and smiled at Lucais. “Is that your way of greeting someone?”
His eyes twinkled with devilry as he stepped so close, even one of the leaves from the tree could not have fit between them. “You would not let me greet you as I would like, sweetheart. Mayhap later, when you invite me to a private tête-à-tête with you this evening after the assembly?”
“Are you inviting yourself or inviting me?” she asked, laughing. Her sense of dread eased as she admired how a pair of old riding breeches clung to his legs and a stained shirt fluttered around him, outlining his strength. His raw masculinity urged her to forget every reason she should not put her arms around him and draw his lips toward hers. Quickly she lowered her eyes. Doing that here might guarantee that this day ended in disaster. “Are you, perchance, planning a victory celebration?”
“I have to own what I should have earlier. You should be commended just for arranging this contest.”
“I thought you hated the idea.”
“Of putting arrows in the hands of folks who would like to see a few sunk into me and my men? Of course, I hated that idea when you first told me.” He chuckled and tugged on the brim of her straw hat. “However, you are very persuasive, Anice.”
“My mother told me so often that I could convince a snake to give up its venom when I chose.”
“If this convinces the villagers that we are not their enemies out to destroy them, it will be well worth the chance of looking like a hedgehog with a dozen arrows sticking out of us in every direction.”
His teasing could not hide an underlying tension in his voice. Anice put a cautious hand on his sleeve. “Is something else wrong?”
“Else?” He pointed toward the meadow. “More than the estrangement of our spectators?”
“I noticed that.”
He nodded, his black hair falling forward into his eyes. “No doubt everyone has. It is as if a storm wind has sailed in from the North Sea and divided them. Not a single one dares to cross to the other side.” He smiled. “Unless you dare.”
“What good would that do? My family already questions my loyalty to the Kinlochs and Killiebige as well as my intelligence because I have allowed you to stay at Ardkinloch. Neilli is threatening all kinds of mayhem if I do not offer you your congé.”
A Highland Folly Page 13
