Rosalyn simply nodded. “He can use the room to the left of the stairs. Ask one of the girls to get it ready.”
Lily took Stefan’s arm and they walked toward the house.
Fen let out a whoosh of air. “Now, that’s some handsome gypsy. Did you see those eyes? A girl could fall into them and never be the same ever again.”
“You’re not helping, Fen.” Rosalyn continued to watch the couple as they walked toward the castle. One was slender and fair and pretty, the other tall, dark, and unabashedly handsome.
“Oh, come now,” Fen cooed. “She’s a grown woman, remember?”
“Am I going to lose her now, just when I’ve found her?”
“You’re overreacting, Roz. Don’t create trouble where there isn’t any.”
“I know, I know.” She shoved her fists into the pockets of her apron. “I wish I could simply take things as they come; but with her, I want to cushion every possible thing that could hurt her.”
“You just have to remember that she lived an entire life without you, and she survived very well. Don’t smother her, Roz.”
• • •
Over dinner, Stefan appeared completely at ease with the family. He told stories about Lily when she was growing, telling his table mates that her nickname had been “Worm” because she always had her nose in a book. Lily blushed prettily, and swatted his arm when he exposed some of her secrets.
All of which made Rosalyn hope her dinner stayed down. They obviously cared for one another. Had this been something brewing before she left the family? Had they been in touch over the few years she’d been alone?
Later, while Evan was showing Stefan around the grounds, Lily took Rosalyn’s hand and led her into the library. Rosalyn was nervous as a cat with its tail on fire.
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Lily began. “Stefan brought me news of my…the woman who raised me.”
Suddenly Rosalyn’s selfishness made her feel a terrible guilt. She clasped Lily’s hands in hers. “Dearest, did you call her ‘Mother’?”
“She was ‘Mum.’”
“Then call her what makes you feel comfortable. It won’t bother me. I’m your mother. She was your mum for all the years I mourned you. Nothing can erase any of it.”
Lily drew in a breath, releasing it slowly. “Dika—that’s her name—has fallen very ill.” Lily chewed on her lower lip. “She has asked for me.”
A cold wash of dread spread through Rosalyn. She held her tongue.
Lily pressed nervous fingers to her cheeks. “It seems she feels she must atone for how she treated me, not giving me the love and gentleness she gave my sister Kizzy and my brother, Pali.”
Rosalyn spoke. “Why didn’t one of your siblings come instead? Why send someone outside the family?”
“Pali is in Germany and Kizzy is married and expecting another baby. That will be her third, Stefan tells me. So that just leaves Papa to care for Mum and he’s not good with sick ones, even when they are his own.” She gave Rosalyn a weak smile. “Stefan is, well, sort of like me in a way, but he wasn’t wanted by his mother. She was raped by some titled nobleman when she tried to sell him vegetables. So, Stefan lived with us.”
“Did your Stefan need atonement from Dika, too?”
Lily shook her head. “Mum adored Stefan. She preferred Pali to Kizzy too.” With a shrug she added, “She liked boys better than girls. It wasn’t a secret; we just accepted it.”
“And now she wants to make up for all of those years she treated you badly?”
“I wasn’t treated badly, I just wasn’t loved,” Lily corrected her gently.
Rosalyn wanted desperately to urge her not to go, to stay here with her and all of those who had come to love her. She never wanted to be separated from her daughter ever again, and though she knew she was being foolish, her heart had been battered for too many years to listen to her head. She put her face in her hands and shook her head.
“You don’t know how badly I want to tell you not to go,” she finally said as she looked at her beautiful daughter and smoothed back a curl from her forehead. “But I can’t do that, can I? As much as I still think of you as my baby, you’re a grown woman. These people were your family for most of your life, and of course I’m grateful, but I have to admit I’m a little jealous too. After all, they had all those years with you and I…well, I won’t say I had nothing, but the void in my life was deep.”
“So, you think I should go?” Lily’s expression was cautious.
“I would have to be very, very selfish to stop you. And then I’d feel guilty. No, my darling, you must go.” She swallowed a sob. “Just please know that we all want you back as swiftly as you feel you can return. Tell your mum, Dika, that I didn’t accept your decision easily.” There was so much more she wanted to say, to remind her daughter that she was loved and would be missed, even if she was to be gone only for a short while.
They sat quietly, shoulder to shoulder, heads touching, hands clasped together. Rosalyn broke the silence. “When will you go?”
“Stefan believes it should be as soon as tomorrow; he only hopes Mum hangs on long enough for me to see her. And we have to take the boat to Ayr, then down the coast a bit. It will take us two or three days, at least. I promise to let you know when I’ll be back.”
“Remember when you wanted to give Isobel your inheritance? Maybe there’s something you can do for your family, for Dika’s care, something.”
Lily broke into a wide smile. “I can tell you’re my mother; we think alike.” They embraced. “I will miss you and I promise to come back.” Lily pulled away and looked into Rosalyn’s eyes. “Remember, I never forgot you, either.”
Chapter Nineteen
The carriage stopped in front of the castle and Isobel was relieved to see Rosalyn hurrying toward them from her garden, waving and smiling. Duncan helped Isobel down. She had not tired of his touch. Would she ever? Nae, she didn’t think so. He winked at her and she blushed, still feeling like a new bride.
Rosalyn ran to them and embraced Duncan first, and then Isobel. “Oh, you both look wonderful! Was it restful? I hear there’s a superb walking path in the hills there above the ocean. Did you happen to take advantage of it?”
Isobel hid a grin. They had gone out for a walk along the cliffs, but it was only because both she and Duncan decided they needed some fresh air. They had rarely left the cottage. That, too, made Isobel blush.
Duncan said, “We did a little walking but we kind of just stayed close to the cottage. The weather, you know…” He clucked his tongue. That coastline could be rough and often whitecaps were as high as a house—but the days they were there, things were calm.
He touched Isobel’s sleeve. “I’ll put the rig away and get the horses settled. Evan can bring in the luggage.” He looked down at her, his eyes smoldering. “I’ll see you inside.”
Rushing warmth spread through her. Had she been worrying for nothing? So far, things were marvelous. Better than marvelous.
As they walked toward the castle, Rosalyn prattled on. “I have rooms ready for you; I hope they will be all right.”
Isobel gave Rosalyn a strange look. “And why wouldn’t they be? I wish you wouldn’t treat us as guests, Rosalyn. I am ready to do my share of work, and if you refuse, I’ll be very angry with you. You know I am unable to sit around and do nothing.” She suddenly remembered Delilah, and she was almost afraid to mention her.
“Did Delilah behave herself?”
Rosalyn rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing our housekeeper is a mild-mannered woman, else I think they might have come to blows.”
“Oh, dear, I told her she was not to interfere.”
“Not to worry,” Rosalyn assured her. “I found just the thing for her to do.”
“What, pray tell?”
“I have so many exotic plants in the solarium and find I have so little time to tend them. Some need repotting badly; they’ve outgrown their pots. Delilah’s eyes lit up when I asked her if
she had a green thumb.”
Isobel raised her eyebrows. “I suppose hers is as green as anyone’s. She does plant a grand garden, and raises the roof when the deer and the rabbits come in to dine on her handiwork.”
“We also got the windows washed; she was adamant about doing them, and I thought it would be all right as long as she had enough help.”
Before they entered the foyer, Isobel took one last look at Rosalyn’s rose garden. It was breathtaking. Everything Rosalyn touched seemed to flourish and thrive. She wondered if there was anything at all Rosalyn couldn’t do well.
Isobel entered the splendid foyer and followed Rosalyn up the wide winding staircase. Portraits of MacNeils going back for generations lined the wall. There were a few pieces of art on stone pedestals in the hallway, but otherwise, it was quite unadorned. Plain, yet elegant.
She stepped into the rooms Rosalyn had prepared for them. “Rosalyn, this is more beautiful than the finest hotel in Edinburgh.”
Rosalyn fluffed the pillows on the enormous bed. “When have you been to Edinburgh, My Lady Isobel?”
The title still made Isobel want to laugh. “Nae, I haven’t, but it’s what I imagine when I think of where the rich and famous stay when they come to town.” The bed was big and wide and canopied. There were at least a dozen pillows artfully strewn across the top, near the headboard. The bedding looked like lush velvet.
“The dressing room is through here.” Rosalyn opened a door and allowed Isobel to walk through first.
The room was as big as her entire bedroom and bathing area at the brothel. Isobel was very grateful, but also felt they were imposing. She reached up and pulled the long hat pin from her hat and took the feathery bonnet off. She tossed it on a shelf, wondering what had possessed her to think she would look like gentry just because she bought a new, garish hat. And she certainly felt out of place here in this splendid castle.
“Do get comfortable, Isobel.” Rosalyn showed her where everything was and before she left, she announced, “There will be tea in the morning room when you’re ready to come down.”
The morning room. What luxury to have so many rooms that they must be named! Isobel shook her head and checked herself in the bevel-edged mirror. She thought she would look different now after all of the lovemaking, but she was her old self, hair like a bird’s nest, oversized bosom, pink cheeks and, she thought, looking down at her hands, the hands of a woman who worked for a living.
She understood that lust was a passing thing. At the moment, both she and her new husband were wallowing in it. She was almost ashamed to admit that every time she saw him, she wanted him. But how long would it last? What would they have when he tired of her? He surely would eventually tire of her. The joy would seep out of her existence like water from a sieve. But not yet.
Isobel strolled around the bedroom, her thoughts on the big old brothel house that would soon be rubble. There were many things she wanted to save, and the furniture could be stored until they were ready to use it again. Duncan had told her there must be some family on the island that needed her old furniture more than she did. It gave her pause.
There was a knock at the door, and Evan poked his head around it. “I have your luggage, Isobel.”
“Yes, bring it in, Evan and thank you so much. I hope we aren’t going to be any trouble.” She watched him deposit the trunk in the corner. He was such a handsome young man.
He tossed her a warm glance. “Rosalyn told me you worried too much.”
“’Tis a hard thing to do, changing habits that one has had for a lifetime.” He brought in more luggage pieces and set them near the trunk. He left her and she wondered how he fit into the family picture. Later, when she and Rosalyn were having tea, Isobel broached the subject.
Rosalyn leaned back in her chair. “When I first arrived, I was told his parents had drowned. I guess no one knew the real story.” She lifted the fine china teacup to her lips and took a sip.
“As it turned out, we all learned that his mother was seduced by one of the MacNeil lords, and Evan is the result of that union.”
Isobel raised her eyebrows, surprised. “And no one knew this until you came here?”
“Actually, it was after Kerry and the boys arrived. Evan and Kerry became close friends, and he had confided in her that his mother was ill and living in a small cabin in the foothills. He swore her to secrecy. He would leave every day at a certain time to care for her.”
“But why would he keep his mother a secret from your family?” Isobel asked.
“It was her wish. She had begged the old laird to take Evan on as a stable boy so he would have a place to live. When all of them died, the secret went with them to the grave.”
“Until Kerry came along,” Isobel finished.
“Exactly.” Rosalyn rose and poured Isobel more tea and passed her the plate of scones. She studied her. “All is well with you and Duncan?”
The blush began at her cleavage and raced upwards. She merely nodded. By the holy, she could run on and on about other people and their problems and offer advice and solutions by the bushel, but ask her about her own affairs and she became a mute. Just as well; what she and Duncan had wasn’t exactly dinner conversation.
Duncan poked his head into the room; he appeared very serious. “Ah, there you are. Izzy, I need you to come upstairs with me for a minute.”
“Yes, yes of course,” she answered, placing her teacup on the tray and getting to her feet. She thanked Rosalyn for the tea and followed Duncan up the winding staircase to their suite of rooms.
When they got inside and he shut the door, she asked, “What is it?”
“I can’t go another minute without having you.”
Her immediate reaction was the hunger she’d had so frequently these past days. Then, realizing where they were, she said, “We can’t do that here.”
He looked at her, surprised. “Why not?”
She glanced around nervously. “Because someone might hear us.”
He stood in front of her, legs spread apart and arms crossed over his chest. “Do you mean to tell me that while we’re living here, we won’t…how can I say this nicely…do the marriage dance?”
She clasped her hands together and brought them to her chin. “That would be an awfully long time, wouldn’t it?”
His expression became pained. “We could do it quietly,” he suggested, taking a step toward her.
She tossed him an amused look. “Have I yet to be quiet?”
“I’d allow you to bite me over and over again,” he teased, moving closer still. When he reached her he bent and planted a kiss on her exposed cleavage, sending shards of fire through her blood. She pressed his head into her bosom and ran her fingers through his silky hair.
Her heart racing, she pulled away and ordered, “Lock the door.”
He was already disrobing. “No one will come in without knocking first, Izzy.”
“Lock the door or…or—”
He was naked. “Or, what?”
“Just please lock it, Duncan.” She flashed him a winning smile.
That did the trick; he strode from her, his beautiful brown buttocks flexing with each step, and turned the latch on the door. “There.” He turned to face her, his erection already full and heavy. “Satisfied?”
Timidly, she answered, biting down on her lower lip, “Not yet.”
“Oh, woman, you are such fun.” He helped her pull off her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and they fell onto the bed together.
Chapter Twenty
An hour later Isobel slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Duncan. As she dressed, she marveled at how much she enjoyed what they did together. Again, however, she knew it wouldn’t last forever. Should she stop being and doing everything he wished, she would lose him.
She sat down at the dressing table and tried to make herself presentable. Her cheeks had high color and her eyes were wide and actually sparkled. Her hair, of course, looked like someone had taken
an egg beater to it, but she didn’t really care too much. That was a part of her she couldn’t change.
Trying to manage the mane with a brush, she thought about their venture outdoors at the inn. She had secured her hair with pins and even a bonnet, but the bonnet was the first thing to blow off, out over the water.
She had cried, “Oh, no!” It was a fine new bonnet, the first time she’d ever worn it.
Duncan had put his arm around her waist, reached up and caressed her breast. “Ah, Izzy, don’t worry. I like you better without it anyway, just as I like you better without clothes.”
It had been a good day, wind and all. The proprietors of the inn had made Duncan and Isobel a lunch and they had looked for spots to spread out on the sand for the picnic. Isobel was excited; she hadn’t been on a picnic in years. But instead of finding a place to spread the blanket, they found a cove, hidden from the sun and the wind and the world, and lunch was the last thing on their minds. When they had finished their lovemaking, they looked over and found the tide had come in and their lunch was under water.
But oh, what a splendid time they had, examining one another. She tentatively stroked him and watched ecstasy play over his features. On an impulse she squeezed his length and he had told her to squeeze it harder, harder still. “Trust me, Izzy,” he had said, “a man loves a good hard squeeze.”
And he had scrutinized her bushy mound and had even bent to kiss it, which nearly made her fly apart. “One day I am going to put my tongue in there.”
Shakily she had said, “Is that a threat?”
“No. A promise, sweet Izzy.”
They never did have a picnic. She glanced in the mirror and saw him awake, watching her.
“You know what I haven’t done in a very long time?” she asked.
“Masturbated?”
The idea of it made her blush. “I will have you know I have never done that.”
“Never? Ever?”
“Never. Ever.”
He rested on his elbow and studied her. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would feel like?”
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