She put down her brush and looked at him in the mirror. “Until you came along, again, I wasn’t even interested. Especially in doing…that.”
“I could watch you and be your coach.”
Aye, and he’d probably be a very good one. “No, you awful man. I want to go on a picnic and actually eat the food that’s prepared.”
He sat up and flung his brown, muscular legs off the bed. “Were you disappointed in our last attempt at a picnic?”
Their eyes met and she shook her head. “Not even a little bit.”
He stood and walked toward her, his manhood at half-mast. “To be honest, I can’t imagine going on a picnic with you and not wanting to ravish you.”
“Get dressed. You are incorrigible.”
“So I’ve been told.” He sauntered away toward where his clothes were strewn on a loveseat.
Aye, she’d guess there were dozens of women who had experienced with him that which made her want him for herself. She sometimes wondered if she would be the last. It was something she could only hope for, but she wouldn’t hold her breath.
Out in the hallway, she met Delilah. They embraced. Her friend felt different as she hugged her. “How are you?” Isobel was concerned.
Delilah huffed as they separated. “How do you think I am? I’ve nearly been booted from the kitchen, where I can make a finer clootie dumpling than anyone on the island. The cook they have makes scones that are as solid as rock and impossible to eat unless dunked in tea, her ginger cakes are nowhere near as good as mine, and the list goes on.”
“I hardly think Rosalyn would keep someone as bad as that in her employ,” Isobel reminded her. She looked into Delilah’s dark eyes. Were the whites of her eyes yellower than usual? She hoped she was just imagining it.
“I’ve been relegated to that room with all the windows and ordered to repot plants. ’Tisn’t all that bad, I guess.” She studied Isobel for a long minute, and then announced, “I think you’re already carrying a bairn.”
Isobel stifled a cry. Aye, she had gotten pregnant very easily the first time, actually with no intention of doing so at all. “Don’t repeat that to anyone, please.” But the thought of carrying another of Duncan’s children made her want it to be real, if for no other reason than she loved him. Yes, she had fallen in love with her husband. And, if she was with child, she would not tell him until she absolutely had to. She didn’t want to spoil what they had.
“By the by,” Delilah said, interrupting her thoughts, “have ye seen that Barnacle fellow?”
Isobel frowned. “Who?”
“Oh, that ancient old sod who shuffles about the castle, passing wind like it’s the only thing propelling him from room to room.”
Isobel remembered that the valet or butler or whatever he was, had been ancient when she’d first seen him all those years ago. “Be generous, Delilah. I think you mean Barnaby, and I’m sure he can’t help it. Whatever do you want him for?”
Delilah adjusted her scarf, tucking in stray strands of kinky black hair. “Nothing, really, I just want to avoid him if I can.” She shook her head, her dark neck wattle moving from side to side. “Being downwind of him is sorta like being in the stables.”
She ambled away, leaving Isobel to wonder how they all would tolerate each other for another two or three months. And she did worry about her friend. Had she lost weight? With Delilah it was hard to tell. Isobel descended the staircase and went in search of Rosalyn, but was told the mistress had gone to visit her friend, Mrs. Gordon.
Before Isobel stepped outside, Duncan came down the stairs and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Fletcher and I are going over to talk with Archie, Fergie the Burn’s son. Hopefully he has some good news about possible workers for the cannery.” And he was gone.
Isobel watched him lope to the stables and disappear inside. Moments later, he and his brother left on their mounts. Isobel returned to the foyer, picked up the green cashmere shawl she’d gotten from Hamish all those years ago. She had truly missed him at the wedding; he was still one of her very best friends.
Isobel stepped outside again and began to stroll the grounds. Fifi and a collie dog ran up to her and the collie nuzzled her apron. She stroked the dog’s head. “Am I going to have to start carrying around treats?” She bent and picked up Fifi, who licked her face. “So you are without your mistress, are you?” She had wondered how little Fifi would get along with all the big dogs at the estate, but she need not have worried. The little dog looked right at home.
The collie scampered beside her, often running around her in circles. She found a rocky ledge partway between the castle and the cliffs and sat so she could watch the ocean. Fifi stayed on her lap and the collie settled beside her and curled up at her feet.
In the distance, she saw Duncan and his brother on horseback, riding out toward the beach. Her husband was a very open man; he seemed to have few secrets. However, when she had asked him about his time in the war in America, he became quiet and pensive. He had been wounded, she knew that. And he wasn’t reticent when he talked about how he got his wounds. Perhaps he was quiet because his side lost the war. Of course, she really didn’t understand any of it.
Isobel heard children laughing and whooping it up. Ian and the twins came running from the back of the castle and nearly bowled her over.
“Mam!” His face was flushed and his cheeks rosy. “You’re home!” He glanced around. “Where’s Mister Duncan?”
“We just returned a few hours ago, and he and the duke went over to see Archie.” She pointed at the two disappearing figures. “I hope you lads haven’t been getting into too much trouble.” She tried to keep her voice stern, but she was just happy they were getting on so well together.
The three of them echoed one another, promising they hadn’t gotten into any trouble. “At least,” one of the twins said, “not when anyone could see us.” All three boys laughed heartily.
“Mam, are we really gonna live here for a while?” At her nod, the three boys whooped and hollered again, and tore off for another adventure, the collie deserting her for a more exciting escapade. Fifi stayed with her the rest of the day.
• • •
Bayous of Louisiana—January 1865
It was almost dawn. Traveling the braid of rivers at night was nerve wracking for Duncan; he’d peered into the darkness, wondering how Kye, the Indian friend of Kitten’s, could tell where he was going. Kitten spoke to him in a mixture of English, French, and some other language, and the swamp native seemed to understand her.
Their escape was anticlimactic. Daddy Beau and Titan each had fallen into a deep and drugged sleep. Kitten took the keys for the shackles from his unconscious body and freed Duncan. Everything went as planned.
Kye had a paddle and a long stick, both of which he used to maneuver through the sluggish waters. He was lean and brown and although he appeared to be a slight individual, Duncan had no doubt he fought with stealth and skill. He had a knife at his waist, sheathed in a leather pouch. Duncan touched the knife Kitten had given him, tucked into the waistband of his trousers.
The next day they hid, waiting again for evening before going on. Kye left them for a few hours, telling Kitten he would return at nightfall. Kitten removed her disguise, an old hat and a pair of overalls, and stretched her legs. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She looked at him, a question in her gaze as she shrugged her shirt off over her head, revealing her small breasts.
He had not thought of her that way, maybe because she reminded him of his sister, Kerry. But suddenly his arousal came hard and strong. Hopefully Daddy Beau was far behind them. Kitten stood before him naked.
As aroused as he was, he couldn’t quite make the move. “Kitten, I don’t think—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Don’t think, Daniel.”
Never before had he felt he was taking advantage of a woman. But she was so willing…
When Kye returned, they continued their journey. He often noticed
that Kye and Kitten spoke quietly with one another; they seemed genuinely fond of each other. Duncan’s ankle was weak, but he ignored it, knowing that he would suffer for it later on. His shoulder was healing nicely, and he could move his arm without pain.
As dawn broke, steam rose up from the water as it met the cool morning air. Cypress trees leaned over the river; their mossy branches dangling close enough to touch. Mangrove trees spread their roots out into the water, down deep where there was murky soil. Birds awakened; birdsong filling the air. Night critters scuttled into hidey-holes to wait for the next evening. Katydids and crickets continued their tunes; they never seemed to sleep.
Kitten leaned close. She had put on her disguise again. At a distance she could pass for a boy. “We should be at the mouth of Bayou St. John soon. New Orleans isn’t far. We can go on foot from there.”
Duncan still wondered how he was going to get Kitten away safely, but at this point she was in better shape than he was and looked inconspicuous in her attempt to appear a boy. He had no reason to believe they would not succeed. They had already decided that he would take her to the ranch, where she would stay until he returned from the fighting.
The mouth of the bayou opened up and they found the best spot to get out of the dugout. Duncan jumped out onto the marshy grass, turned to help Kitten only to hear Kye speak. Whatever he said surprised Kitten, and she turned to him. “Why?”
Kye placed his hand on her shoulder and spoke to her softly. There was affection in his eyes.
She put her hands to her face, and then turned back to Duncan. “He wants me to stay, to go back with him,” she said with surprise.
“No,” Duncan replied. “Come with me, Kitten. You’ve got to get out of the bayou. Think about Daddy Beau!”
Kye said something again, and Kitten translated. “He said Daddy Beau has been…taken care of.”
Frustrated, Duncan asked, “What in the hell does that mean?”
“Daniel, it’s all right. Kye and I have been friends for so long. I’d hate to leave him.”
“Then tell him to come with us,” Duncan answered. He spoke without thinking, but he didn’t want to leave Kitten behind.
She gave him a wan smile, although he saw the shine in her eyes. “Go, Daniel. Go. Please, take care.”
Tempted to go after Kye with the knife Kitten had given him, he thought better of it. “I’ll come back after the war,” he promised. “I’ll find you.”
She waved at him.
That was the last time he saw her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Island of Hedabarr—1872
Isobel stood in front of her new house. The front faced the ocean. In fact, one could see the ocean from every window. It was a solid structure, no frilly grill work, no fancy columns. The front windows were bowed, and Isobel already imagined setting plants on the ledges inside. And it was quite near the castle, Fletcher having given them land that was lush and green, but unused. The nearness to the castle didn’t bother Isobel; she enjoyed being close, for she and Rosalyn visited often.
Imagine. It truly was hers and Duncan’s, although it wasn’t nearly ready to move into yet. It had been two months since their wedding, and Duncan had hired carpenters from the mainland to build the house of Isobel’s dreams. That was really a contradiction, if she thought about it. In all of her life, she had never had a dream house. All she’d wanted was a house without a leaky roof, or slanted floors, or warped wall boards.
She still couldn’t believe it was all true. She felt shame that she expected something catastrophic to happen any minute, because everything was just so absolutely perfect. How could it last?
She and Duncan still had a wonderful time together, in bed and out. They had picnicked and had placed the basket somewhere safe from wind and water, and he had ravished her first. They took long walks on the cliffs over the ocean, speaking of dreams and ambitions. Duncan was eager to get involved in the cannery. He had admitted to her that fishing was one of his favorite sports, and now he was able to offer the young men of Hedabarr work. He worked with Archie, getting the men together for the work on the building; he was gone most mornings until early afternoon. Isobel’s only dream was that things continue as they did now.
She hadn’t wanted to watch them demolish her home; she had made wonderful memories there. But as Delilah had once said, the building was only a place to hang one’s clothes. And always, she and Duncan made love with abandon. How had she lived so long without knowing such bliss? Such pure, untainted joy? Any reservations she had she tried to keep locked up in the attic of her mind.
She had taken a trip to the kirk and saw the work they were doing on the schoolroom. She felt a stab of envy that she would no longer be involved in the schooling of children. Aye, she had known it was temporary from the onset, but she had refused to think about what she would feel when she was no longer needed. But life went on; she had a new one and was determined to make her home a happy one.
A shay rumbled to a stop beside her and Rosalyn waved to her before getting out. She made her way to Isobel and glanced at the house. “’Tis going to be a beauty, Isobel.”
“Aye. I still can’t believe it will be mine.”
Rosalyn tucked her arm under Isobel’s. “But it is.”
“Has Lily heard anything about the teaching position?”
Rosalyn shook her head. “I’m afraid the big issue will be that she has no proper training as a teacher.”
“How has she been since she returned from the mainland?”
Rosalyn looked pensive. “Rather quiet, although she did tell me that her mum had always had a weak heart, so it wasn’t a surprise when she took a turn for the worse.”
“But she was able to stay for the funeral.”
“And spent a little time with her siblings and her papa. And,” she added, “she paid for her mother’s burial and gave a big chunk of her inheritance to her papa. It’s no secret that Travelers often live from hand to mouth.”
Isobel shook her head and toyed with the ribbon on her bonnet. “She’s a darling, that’s for sure.”
They were quiet a moment, and then Rosalyn said, “Stefan came back with her.”
Isobel turned swiftly to look at her sister-in-law. “To make sure she got home safely?”
On a sigh, Rosalyn answered, “Perhaps, but since they’ve been back, he’s spent a lot of time with Evan in the stables. Apparently he’s an excellent horseman and quite knowledgeable.”
Isobel tilted her head to one side. “My, my. Two exceptionally handsome young men, both clearly available. I’m surprised you haven’t had to build a moat around the castle to keep away the lassies.”
“And they are handsome, both of them. Piercing blue eyes, black hair—the only big difference is that Stefan is rather swarthy and Evan is very light skinned.”
They quietly studied the house for a while, then Isobel asked, “Has Lily been keeping busy?”
“So far. She’s taken the three boys and given them projects to work on so they aren’t simply running around the grounds with no purpose other than making noise.”
“I’m so grateful Ian has fit into your family so easily,” Isobel mused.
“It’s your family too, Isobel.”
“Aye, so it is. Eventually I may get used to all the changes.” She turned and looked at Rosalyn. “About the teaching position…His Lordship doesn’t have influence in that regard?”
Rosalyn gave Isobel’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m afraid you give him more credit that he deserves.”
“What will she do if she can’t teach there?”
Rosalyn was quiet a moment. “We haven’t really talked about that. I want her to stay with us, forever. There will never be enough time for us, at least not for me.”
The women walked toward the unfinished house and stepped onto the path that had been made by the tradesmen with their wagons of lumber and tools. “I don’t want her to get bored. And I really don’t know what other skills she has. It�
��s something she and I will have to talk about. I want her to feel useful, not at loose ends.”
Isobel thought about that. “Aye, there’s precious little to do here on the island, especially for a bright young lass like her.”
“Kerry is different. She’s comfortable working with the horses and the sheep, she loves all the dogs, and she’s never been interested in girly things. Like Gavin, I think she’s read every book in the library.”
“Aye,” Isobel agreed. “It will be a strong, no nonsense man who will finally make her tumble.”
“I rather doubt there’s a man like that here on Hedabarr.”
“I guess we’ve got the only two,” Isobel quipped with a smile.
“Indeed we do.”
They strolled around the grounds that would, Isobel hoped, grow fine vegetables and perhaps even some flowers. “I worry about Delilah.”
“Yes, as do I. I hadn’t realized how ill she really was. She’s a very private person, isn’t she?”
Isobel recalled the conversation she’d had with Mrs. Gordon after they returned from their honeymoon. Mrs. Gordon had found Isobel outside, weeding Rosalyn’s roses.
“I’d like to speak to you about Delilah,” Mrs. Gordon had said.
Isobel got to her feet, removed her gloves and brushed off her skirt. “Yes?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware that she came to me while you and Duncan were away and complained about severe stomach pains.”
Alarmed, Isobel had said, “She did? I had no idea.”
“She also admitted she hadn’t been eating, that her appetite seems to have, as she put it, ‘flown the coop.’ She also told me not to tell you.”
Isobel’s alarm grew. “I had noticed she’d lost some weight, but with her girth, it’s not always easy to tell.”
Mrs. Gordon had given her a long, serious look. “The whites of her eyes are also turning yellow.”
“Yes, I had noticed that,” Isobel remembered.
“I think she has a wasting disease that is eating away at her liver and her pancreas.”
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