by Karen Ranney
She grabbed it and began retracing her path when she heard the sound of hooves. Turning, she saw James riding into the yard. She flagged him down by waving both arms in the air.
The moment he halted his mount she was beside him. “James,” she said, breathlessly, “you must come and help Ned.” Quickly, she explained what had happened.
He dismounted, leaving his horse in front of the barn, and accompanied her back to the sluice.
Quickly, he surveyed the situation, then removed his jacket. Taking the bar from her, he jumped into the river. A second later, he disappeared from sight beneath the surface. It was only then that Riona realized the water level was rising.
Ned was paler than he’d been earlier, the thinness of his lips now rimmed with a bluish line. She knelt at his side, then lowered herself into the water, shivering at the chill.
“What do you think you’re doing, lass?” Ned asked, but his voice had lost its edge.
“Helping you,” she said shortly. She drew closer, using both hands on his back to push him gently upright. The current seemed to be getting stronger, and the water level was at his chin. If James couldn’t free him, Ned might drown.
James surfaced, whipping his head back. “Can you hold on for another few minutes, Ned? I’ve nearly got the board free.”
“Do I have a choice?” Ned answered, the surliness of his answer reassuring Riona as nothing else.
She exchanged a smile with James over his shoulder.
He disappeared below the surface of the water again, and a second later she heard a muffled oath from Ned. One end of the board came free, bobbing to the surface.
Riona moved to his side, following his sleeve below the water.
“Can you release your arm, Ned?”
“I would if I could feel it, lass,” he said.
His arm was lying limply on the board. Gently, she pulled on his sleeve as James looked on from the other side of the dam.
“Is he free?”
“Yes,” she said.
Ned moved, a grimace shadowing his face. “I’m out of my trap, right enough,” he said. “But fool that I am, I’ve gone and broken my arm.”
James scrambled up the bank, coming to the other side of the dam. He knelt, holding out his hand for her.
Riona shook her head. “Help Ned first.”
“I’ll help Ned after you,” he said firmly.
“You’re a very stubborn man, James MacRae,” she said, frowning at him.
“And you, Miss McKinsey, are my equal in resolve.”
She gripped his hand and he pulled her out of the sluice. Her feet began to slip on the muddy incline, but James wrapped one hand around her waist and drew her closer to him.
A slight breeze pressed her sodden skirts against her legs, outlining them. Her bodice clung to her torso, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Riona wished, suddenly, that her stays were made of leather, instead of canvas. They might have been some protection against his quick-shuttered gaze.
James bent and retrieved his coat from where he’d left it on the bank and put it around her shoulders.
“You’ll catch cold,” he said, not quite looking at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest, grabbing the lapels of his jacket close to her.
“So will you.”
He shook his head as if to negate her comments.
James climbed down the bank to help Ned out of the sluice. A cheer arose from the women still watching them. The sound made Riona turn and frown at the assembled throng, wondering if they, too, were fascinated with James MacRae. Or was it simple relief they felt?
Ned’s right arm hung from his shoulders, his hand nearly blue.
“I’ve no time for an injury,” he said angrily. “How am I to get everything done that I need to do with a broken arm? You might as well shoot me like you would a horse.”
“I’ll help,” James offered.
“Oh you will, will you? I’m thinking you should get yourself gone from here as fast as you can.”
He and James exchanged a look.
“Did you finish your errand at Mr. McDermott’s house?” she asked casually as she helped Ned tuck his hand into the placket of his shirt. The arm would hurt less that way, but it still needed to be set quickly before the injury swelled.
“I did.”
Nothing more than that. No comment about Rosalie or Caroline, or even McDermott’s farm. She glanced at him.
The look on James’s face was suddenly indifferent, almost unfriendly, almost as if he were a stranger. Was this the man who’d kissed her so passionately only days before?
Or about whom she’d lusted only minutes earlier?
She was reminded of the day after he’d first arrived at Tyemorn Manor, when he’d adopted a similar attitude toward her. Was that behavior then and now designed to keep distance between them?
Turning, she led the way back to the manor house, the two men silent behind her. Ned uttered no word of complaint, and from time to time, Riona would turn and look at him. Other than a tight expression around his lips, there was no indication that he was in pain. He was, like the rest of them, soaked and no doubt chilled.
“What on earth happened?” Susanna said, rushing out of the kitchen door. Taking in Ned’s disheveled appearance, she clucked her tongue and frowned at him. “What have you gone and done, you foolish man?”
“That’s what I need,” Ned said, “a lecture. Do you think I broke my arm just to irritate you?”
They exchanged a look, a slight smile finally coming to Susanna’s face.
“Whether or not you planned it, you old goat, I have to treat you. As my patient, you’ll do as I say.”
“I will, will I?” Ned’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
Riona had the distinct impression that they might have said more to each other if she and James had not been present. She stepped aside as Ned entered the kitchen door.
She glanced at James. “Why do I think he is not nearly as upset with her as he sounds?”
“No man likes to admit his weakness,” James said. “Least of all someone like Ned, who hides behind a gruff exterior.”
“What about you, James? Do you dislike displaying your weaknesses? Or do you have any?”
Once again his face was shuttered, his glance almost unfriendly. An irritation, that look. No doubt he was far more charming to Mr. McDermott’s daughters.
“How are Rosalie and Caroline? Did you find them in good health?”
“Excellent health. They are very charming women.”
“Are they?” she said coolly. “Perhaps you’ll be seeing more of them in the future.”
“Are you jealous?” He looked amazed.
Her laughter sounded brittle even to her own ears. “I have no right to be.”
“I am,” he said. Words that were perhaps better left unspoken. “I am, Riona. I can’t think of another man kissing you or touching you.”
“Don’t, James. Please.” How adroitly he’d turned their conversation.
“You shouldn’t stand there in those wet garments, Riona,” Susanna said from the open door.
“Or you, James,” Riona said, just now realizing that his clothing did little to conceal his physique.
There was something almost delightfully wicked about the male anatomy. Not only was his chest outlined in magnificent detail, but other portions of him as well, protruding and obvious.
She glanced upward to find that James’s smile had deepened, but there was a new heat in his gaze.
Her cheeks warmed. She slipped off the jacket and handed it to him, thanking him.
Before he could respond, she’d disappeared into the kitchen and beyond, to her room.
“Well, are you happy now?” Ned asked Susanna as his eyes followed James. The younger man had left the kitchen, no doubt to change his clothes.
He frowned at her, and then down at his useless arm. How was he to do everything he needed to do before harvest? It was all ver
y good for James to offer, but he was thinking that it would be better for all of them if James were gone from here. And soon.
“You have them lusting after each other. Is that what you wanted?”
Susanna looked at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether or not to lie full-faced or to brazen it out.
“I’m sure you’re wrong,” Susanna said, rolling up his sleeve.
He clamped his lips firmly together, rather than to allow himself a pained gasp as she straightened his arm.
“It’s a clean break,” he said, staring down at it. “The cold water kept it from swelling too much, and it should be easy enough to set.”
“Are you telling me my business in this, too, Ned? I’ll have you know I can set a bone well enough.”
“You saw the way they look at each other,” he said, returning to his original subject.
She stood and left the room, returning with a covered basket. Placing it on the table, she opened it and withdrew a roll of linen and two planed sticks. Susanna McKinsey was prepared for a number of injuries. A good thing, since a farm was often a dangerous place.
“Aye,” he said. “If it’s lust you want, they feel that well enough.”
“Harold McDougal is a toad of a man. Riona deserves better.”
“The way I heard it, Riona deserves what she got.”
Holding the two sticks on either side of his arm, she bid him hold them in that position as she unrolled the bandages.
“I will grant you that she was foolish,” she said, “but a mistake of that caliber does not deserve Harold McDougal for punishment.”
She began to wrap the bandage around his arm.
“Then why did you agree to the union to begin with?”
She sighed heavily but answered him nonetheless. “I was balancing one daughter’s good against the other’s. Maureen is so very much in love with Samuel Hastings. I didn’t want any scandal to ruin that for her. But it seems to me that I condemned Riona to a loveless marriage.”
“She won’t be the first woman to be married for reasons other than love.”
“I know that. But on most occasions there is at least respect between the parties. In Riona’s case, I do not think that she could love a man who had wheedled his way into matrimony with her.”
“What do you want to happen, then?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” she said, and he had the feeling it was a grand admission he’d received from her. “When James first came, all I could think about was that he would make a wonderful son-in-law.”
“Without thinking how that might come about?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“What do you plan to do about Maureen? It seems to me that you’ve got the same problem as you did in the beginning.”
She shook her head, and he was shocked to see the sheen of tears in her eyes.
“I cannot but hope that somehow everything will work out. Am I foolish for thinking that?”
“I think that you are still believing in something long past the time for it to be abandoned,” he said carefully.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Susanna,” he said honestly.
She smiled, the effect that of the sun coming out during a brief afternoon storm.
“Ah, Ned, you’ve always been a dour man. Maybe something good will happen.”
While all he could foresee was disaster.
Maureen sat on a bench in front of the manor house, in a secluded place not far from a large oak.
It was a glorious late spring morning, the kind of weather that made her inexpressibly sad. Perhaps because she had no one to share it with, no one to remark upon it at her side. Riona was about the farms, as usual, and her mother busy with chores around the house. Susanna always seemed happiest when she had the most to do.
Maureen had finally finished her wedding gifts to Riona, two nightgowns heavily embroidered with images of the flowers that bloomed around Tyemorn Manor. A small remembrance of things her sister loved.
Once again, Maureen was reminded of their differences. Not just in nature and temperament, but in good fortune.
She stared down at the letter on her lap, smoothing her hands over the black script. She did that to savor the message before she ever opened it.
Samuel’s handwriting was so much starker than the rest of him. Samuel, for all that he was a soldier, was of a gentle temperament. He hid his demeanor from most. But with her he’d been honest and open, revealing his love of books and poetry, and other secrets that he’d admitted sharing with no one but her.
What would this letter bring? More details of his post? Of the men with whom he served? She was beginning to know them by their idiosyncrasies and habits. One day soon, she would no doubt make their acquaintance, preparatory to becoming a lady of the regiment.
But Samuel wouldn’t always be a soldier. He’d confided that he wanted to go into politics. Perhaps one day he would even run for office. But the future seemed so very distant now.
Finally, she slid her nail into the flap of the letter. He had a great deal of news, it seemed, since he had covered both sides of the paper.
“I’m sorry,” a voice said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She looked up to see James standing in front of her, a riding crop in his left hand, the reins of his horse in the other.
“I didn’t hear you approach,” she said, smiling. “Isn’t that strange?”
“You looked involved in your letter. Forgive me for disturbing you.”
“It’s from Samuel,” she said in explanation.
“Your intended?”
“No,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm. “But I hope that he will be one day.”
She glanced down at the letter again. “He has news of his regiment, and I find myself fascinated with the details of soldiering.”
“Is he stationed in Edinburgh?”
“He used to be,” she said. “But now he is in Inverness. He is part of the Fencible Regiment. Have you heard of them?”
He shook his head.
“Their duty is to patrol the coast of Scotland. Ever since the unpleasantness in the colonies began, the government is afraid the French will try to invade.”
She wondered at the nature of his smile, half crooked, as if he were amused at himself.
“My family has built many ships for the French,” he said. “I sincerely hope they do not invade, since that will put me in the middle of a quandary. Whom do I champion? Our customers? Or the English?”
She decided that she wouldn’t divulge that particular information to Samuel.
“You and Riona would keep old feuds alive, I think. Isn’t it time that we simply forgot all that in the past? We are part of England now, you know.”
He tied the reins of his horse to a nearby branch. She moved her skirts aside so that he might sit on the bench beside her.
“Injustice is a difficult thing to forget,” he said. “But as the years pass, those who were affected personally begin to die off, leaving a younger generation who carry only tales in our hearts. Sooner or later, both adversaries will forget why they ever fought. Unfortunately, that sometimes leads to new battles.”
“Do you think that Scotland and England will fight again?”
“Not if the people of Scotland acquiesce to England’s rule. My father, however, tells stories of the Highlanders that make me wonder how they can ever forgive the English.”
She was not, for all her interest in soldiering, prepared to discuss war. Frankly, she didn’t want to think of Samuel being in danger.
“Have you been exploring Tyemorn Manor?” she asked, glancing at his horse.
“I have,” he said smiling. “It’s a beautiful place.”
“I have never learned to ride,” she said. “In Cormech we could not afford a horse, and here they seem to be used mostly for farm work.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“What do
you think of Harold McDougal?” he said finally.
She should have, perhaps, been surprised at the question. But she wasn’t. Anyone seeing him with her sister would know why he’d asked. However, she didn’t exactly know how to answer.
“Is he a man of honor?”
She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t say such a thing. After all, he would shortly be her brother by marriage.
“Perhaps that is a question you need to ask Riona,” she replied. “She knows him much better than I.”
“Would you marry him?”
Now that was a surprising question. She carefully folded her letter, wishing he had left her alone to read it.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I do not think so, no.”
“Why not?”
She stood abruptly, aware that she was being rude. But if she stayed, he would force her into admissions that she shouldn’t make about a future member of the family.
“I really can’t say, James. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have things I must do.”
She placed Samuel’s letter in her pocket and almost fled from him.
Chapter 18
She was standing beside the Witch’s Well, attired in a diaphanous white garment. Her hair, for once not unruly, fell straight down her back to end at her waist. Although she could not see her reflection, she felt beautiful, attuned to herself in a way that was oddly strange and yet fitting.
Her skin was ivory, her lips full and red, her eyes sparkling. Her body felt different, aware somehow.
The world around her was hushed and expectant. Suddenly, James was there, striding out of the strange and eerie fog that obscured the ground. He stretched out his arms, and she walked toward him, before realizing that the well separated them. She circled it slowly, one hand trailing on the rough stone ledge, the other at her side.
There were no birds chirping in the silence, no sound of water dripping from the bucket. No leaves fell, no flowers bloomed. The air was warm, yet chilled at the same time, as if her dreaming mind refused to label a season or mark a time.
