To Love a Scottish Lord

by Karen Ranney

  The day was a gray one, and Hamish the brightest object in it. The weather was too cold for him to be naked, and she didn’t doubt that the water was near to freezing. Yet he stood on the rocky shore, his head tilted back, smiling at the sky as if God Himself grinned back at him.

  Mary stepped away from a window before he could see her.

  It was Elspeth’s turn to go to market, and Brendan asked if he could accompany her.

  “Of course you can,” Mrs. Grant interjected, smiling broadly. “You can help Elspeth carry the parcels home. Take Jack with you as well.”

  He’d not yet left Inverness, finding a dozen or more excuses to remain in the city. The Grants had proven to be wonderful tour guides. A few days ago, they’d taken a carriage ride to visit the ruins of Craig Phadraig Hill, visible from their home. The walls of the fort, originally made of granite, had somehow become vitrified, a fact that mystified any visitor.

  Yesterday, all six married sisters and their husbands had accompanied them as they’d visited the Clava Cairns, just outside Culloden Moor.

  “My grandfather fought at Culloden,” Brendan said when they’d passed it. “As well as my father, although on opposite sides.”

  “You’re part English, then?” Elspeth had asked, surprised.

  “Does it make a difference to you if I am?”

  “Of course it doesn’t,” she said, and he wondered at his relief.

  Beyond those outings, he was fast running out of reasons to delay his departure. He’d called on Mr. Grant often, genuinely growing to like the older man. They’d engaged in many long conversations during which he sat on one of the settees in the parlor, Elspeth and her mother opposite him.

  From time to time, she would look up and smile at him with those blue eyes of hers, and he’d lose his thoughts. Mr. Grant would only grin and nod, as if such stupidity on his part was to be expected. Neither he nor Mrs. Grant ever commented on the fact that Brendan had remained here long beyond his original plans. A good thing, because he didn’t know what he would tell them if asked. He could understand why he was loath to return to Gilmuir, but he’d never before been so reluctant to go to sea.

  The day was clear and bright, and in the distance Ben Wyvis sparkled with its cap of snow. They crossed the bridge spanning the River Ness, taking a moment to study the fast-moving water beneath them.

  Jack pulled on Elspeth’s sleeve. “Robbie’s waiting for me,” he said impatiently.

  She nodded an assent, both of them watching as he ran off to join a companion.

  The Inverness market was composed of rows of stalls separated by aisles. He and Elspeth walked together, one of them occasionally stopping to remark on an item.

  “You’ll be going back to sea soon, Captain MacRae?” she asked, toying with a selection of ribbons. He wanted to tell her that the dark blue would look best on her silvery blond hair, and match the shade of her eyes, but such a remark might be construed as too personal.

  He nodded. “My crew is no doubt enjoying their holiday.”

  “And your brother? Will he sail with you?”

  There was silence while he searched for an answer. “Hamish had his own ship, but it was lost in India.”

  She turned concerned eyes to him. “Was he badly injured? I hope not. I would hate for you to suffer any grief on his account.”

  He didn’t want to lie to her; at the same time, he was constrained by propriety in what he actually said. “I would say that his recovery is nothing short of miraculous,” he answered carefully.

  “No doubt due to Mary,” Elspeth said loyally. “Mary is quite an accomplished healer.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  They spent some time strolling through the stalls, until Elspeth turned and looked at him quizzically.

  “What is your brother like, Captain MacRae?”

  “What is he like?” Mary had asked him to describe Hamish, and he’d failed miserably at the task. What did he tell the young woman at his side?

  She smiled, but it didn’t ease his sudden feeling that he’d walked into a trap of words. “He must be a formidable man indeed, to keep Mary with him. Especially since I doubt he’s very ill.”

  “Why would you think that?” he asked, surprised.

  “You wouldn’t have left him,” she said simply. “Or, once your errand was done, you would have returned to his side.”

  He felt warmth rise to his cheeks and wondered if he’d ever before been as embarrassed as he was at that moment. Elspeth continued to look at him with her innocent wide eyes, the silence stretching out between them as she waited for him to speak.

  “He’s a complex man,” he told Elspeth truthfully. “Although he’s my brother there are times when we seem to be little more than strangers. His time in India changed him profoundly. He could, indeed, benefit from Mary’s attentions.”

  “Is he a compelling man, Captain MacRae? Mary had planned for months to meet with Mr. Marshall. To miss that meeting would require a very good reason.”

  “Didn’t you say she was an accomplished healer?” he asked, feeling as if he were floundering.

  She slanted a look at him. “But she’s never treated anyone this long.”

  He glanced at her and then away, trying to find a way to answer her so that she would no longer question him, while at the same time not speaking of things that were too indelicate for her ears. Unlike Mary, Elspeth was innocent.

  She consulted her list, directing him to the butcher shop not far away. They entered, ducking beneath the lintel and into a small, smoky room where a multitude of meats hung from the rafters. Only then did she speak again.

  “I’ve not seen as much of the world as you, Captain MacRae, but I do know that Mary is acting unlike herself. Is she in love with him? Women give their hearts easily while men only loan theirs.” She turned troubled eyes to him.

  He thought about the men in his family, how they’d altered their lives for the women they loved. But what Hamish felt was need, or lust, nothing more. Hadn’t he as much as made that confession himself?

  He was interrupted from having to answer her by the painful exclamation of a girl at the other end of the store.

  “What am I to do with this?” she said. “I can’t carry this back to the house. He bites!” She stood holding a squawking chicken by the neck, looking as if she were terrified of the fowl.

  “You’ll take it and be grateful you have food in your mouth.”

  Elspeth glanced at the two of them, speaking in an aside to Brendan. “It’s Betty,” she said. “Mary’s maid.”

  He nodded, recognizing Charles Talbot from his earlier meeting with the man. Talbot hadn’t improved with familiarity.

  Striding forward, Elspeth spoke to the proprietor. “You need to crate the bird for her,” she said. Taking the chicken from Betty, she calmly held it out to him.

  Talbot looked as if he wanted to argue with her, but Brendan joined Elspeth, regarding the other man coolly. Without a word, he watched as the butcher took the chicken and disappeared into the back of his shop.

  “That should solve the problem, Betty,” Elspeth said, smiling at the girl. She ignored Talbot, speaking to the young maid. “How are you doing in Mary’s absence?”

  “It’s been difficult without her, miss.” She glanced at Talbot out of the corner of her eye, and Brendan couldn’t help but wonder what she might have said if Charles hadn’t been present.

  “You must remember that Mary is your mistress,” Elspeth said, glancing at Charles as she spoke. “Even if she’s away from home.”

  “For too long,” Charles said tightly. “Tell me, is your brother never going to get well or die?”

  For a moment, Brendan only stared at Talbot. Elspeth put her hand on his arm and he glanced down at her, forcing a reassuring smile to his face.

  “Mary’s been gone entirely too long. She’s not comporting herself as a proper widow. But, then, she never has.”

  Elspeth looked as if she would like to respond to Charle
s, but the man grabbed the cage the butcher proffered and moved toward the door, Betty following.

  The young maid glanced over her shoulder, and just before Talbot whisked her out of the butcher shop, managed one last question. “Do you know when she’ll return, miss?”

  “Soon, I’m certain,” Elspeth said. She sent a glance to Brendan, and he didn’t contradict her. What could he say? That Mary had already remained at Castle Gloom far longer than she should? Or that he wasn’t entirely certain that even respectability would move her from that place? He’d seen the looks between Mary and Hamish, had heard their muted conversations. Brendan hadn’t been all that surprised when Hamish had asked her to stay and she’d acceded.

  “She’s a sweet girl,” Elspeth said, staring after the two of them. “But Charles thinks himself the arbiter of Mary’s behavior. He dislikes her work with the poor, and resents the fact that she tends the sick. I’m surprised he remains in her household with all her flaws.”

  “Shall we go see the dolphins in a few days?” he suggested in an effort to change the subject. Charles Talbot was not going to ruin the rest of his day. Nor did he want to discuss Mary and Hamish. That situation could not get better with the passage of time, and he wondered if the two of them realized it.

  “What do you know of the dolphins?” Elspeth asked, smiling and evidently pleased at the suggestion.

  “I’ve been told that they can be seen at Moray Firth.”

  She nodded. “Mother will be pleased; it’s one of her favorite destinations.”

  One day, Brendan thought, he might be allowed to be with Elspeth without the whole of her family in attendance. Then it struck him that except for the errant Jack, who might appear at any moment, he and Elspeth were now alone. He banished Betty, Mary and Hamish, and any other concerns immediately from his mind.

  “I’m not Mary, you know,” Charles said to Betty once they were back at the house. “I don’t think you’re cute and clever and to be cosseted. You need to learn that things have changed around here. Or should I toss you out on your ear?”

  There, he’d finally gotten her attention.

  “I was only being polite to them, sir,” she said.

  “You’ll talk when I give you leave to do so,” he said, tightening his hand around the girl’s arm.

  Rage ran through him. He gripped the door handle so hard he could feel the pattern etch itself into his skin. They entered the house, and he tossed his hat atop the coat rack, uncaring that it fell or that Betty immediately picked it up and dusted it off.

  He’d overheard their conversation so clearly that Elspeth and Brendan might have been speaking to him. Is she in love with him?

  Betty put his hat on the sideboard with great care, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “I didn’t mean to anger you, sir.”

  She was almost to the door when she turned and looked at him again. “Miss Grant said I should remember that it was Mrs. Gilly who was my employer. Begging your pardon, sir, but I don’t think I’m the only one who’s forgotten that.” The door closed behind her.

  He stared after her, thinking that he should dismiss her after all. But Mary liked her, and for that reason he hadn’t replaced the young maid.

  Now he didn’t care. He looked around the foyer of the house he’d come to think of as his.

  Mary couldn’t do this to him. Not after all this time. Not when he’d been so patient, telling himself that all he had to do was wait. His fury was like molten gold, pouring into hidden depressions and fissures, revealing previously concealed imperfections.

  Charles realized that he could hate Mary now.

  Chapter 15

  M ary smiled at Hamish, the firelight adding a golden hue to her skin and a sparkle to her eyes.

  Hamish continued to whittle a long branch. Earlier that afternoon, he’d soaked it in a bucket of well water until it was supple. He’d already stripped the bark from it, and was now sharpening the point.

  “What’s the stick for?” she asked.

  “To spear the fish I caught this morning,” he said. Reaching over, he threaded the stick through the brace of fish, and then placed them in the fire.

  Her curiosity evidently piqued, she watched him with interest while he prepared their dinner.

  “The kitchen fire is larger,” she said.

  He glanced at her. “You’re right, but I like the tower. It’s big enough for our needs.”

  “Are you sure I can’t help?”

  “It’s only fair that I do the cooking for one night, at least. I didn’t mean for you to wait on me like a servant, Mary. Consider it a reward for doing the laundry.”

  “But you lit the fire, carried the kettle, and emptied the buckets.” The look in her eyes dared him to argue with her.

  His smile was a gentle acknowledgment of her words.

  “You never told me you knew how to cook.”

  “There have been many times in my life when I’ve had to eat,” he said with a smile, “and there hasn’t been a cook around to make me a meal. My mother wanted all of us to be self-sufficient, so she taught us enough of the rudiments that we’d never starve.”

  “How many MacRaes are there?” she asked.

  “There are five brothers in all.”

  “Are any of them like you?”

  He smiled at the thought of any of his brothers being compared to another. “We’re all ourselves. My brother Alisdair is the oldest, and then James. Then me, followed by Brendan.”

  “Who’s the youngest?”

  “Douglas.”

  “I know Alisdair and Iseabal,” she said, surprising him. “Gordon did several commissions for them in the last five years. But I’ve never met James.”

  “He doesn’t live at Gilmuir,” Hamish said. “Instead, he’s chosen a little village called Ayleshire to make his home. He’s become a farmer, something that surprises all of us.”

  “And Douglas?”

  “Douglas was in school in France. Brendan told me that our father called him home. Douglas had evidently become fascinated with Paris, but my parents deemed it too unsafe with the political climate.”

  She nodded. “The demand for national elections for the Estates-General,” she said, startling him with her knowledge.

  “You shouldn’t look so surprised, Hamish.”

  “I don’t know many women who are so conversant with political unrest.”

  “Then you’ll have to expand your circle of female acquaintances,” she said. “There are many of us interested in what’s happening on the continent, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which is the price of gold.”

  He grinned at her, pleased with this sign of her practicality. It wasn’t the romance of rebellion that interested Mary as much as the commerce of it. In that, she was a woman after his own heart. The events of the day weighed heavily on a sea captain’s mind. It became increasingly difficult to make a living trading between countries if they were forever at war. Neutral ships were often trapped in the middle of quarrelling nations.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen your family?”

  “Years,” he said. Talking about his family brought them vividly to mind. He’d not, in all the time in India, missed them as much as he did right at this moment. He wondered why that was, and then glanced at Mary again, thinking that she had something to do with it.

  In India, he’d tried not to hate his imprisonment or his captors. He couldn’t afford to be angry because any strong emotion stripped him of the energy he needed to live. After a while, he found himself almost adrift in nothingness, a kind of fog that was, perhaps, one of the reasons he’d survived.

  With Mary’s arrival, however, the numbness had begun to wear off. He’d begun to feel every emotion, those he’d expected and even a few that surprised him.

  He turned the fish over, concentrating on his task.

  “What is it, Hamish?” She stood and walked toward him.

  He knew she was near the instant before she put her hand
on his shoulder, being attuned to her in a way that he had never before been with anyone.

  “Sometimes,” she said softly, “you simply go away. Your eyes get a faraway cast to them, and I know you’re thinking of India. One day, the memories will cease, and you’ll only think back on that time with pride.”

  “Pride?” Amusement raced through him at her words. “What do I have to be proud of?”

  “Surviving.”

  “I traded too much for it,” he said. “I’ve given up parts of my soul in order to keep my body alive.”

  She dropped to his side on her knees, her hands on his arm.

  “You mustn’t say that, Hamish.”

  The look on her face was one of stricken horror, and he realized that she didn’t hear the hints in his voice, had heard only the resignation in his tone. He hadn’t truly wished to die. If he had, he wouldn’t have done what he did.

  He turned and grabbed a platter, putting the fish on it before setting it on the table. Then he stood and pulled her into his embrace, feeling her breath against his bare throat.

  “Shall we make an agreement between us?” he said. “That we never talk of India again? It will be as if it never happened. Let’s just say I was on an extended voyage.”

  “And the marks on your body were made by Chinese concubines,” she said. He felt her smile against his skin and laughed.

  “What would you know about Chinese concubines?”

  “I have ears,” she said, pulling back and smiling at him. “Inverness has its share of travelers.”

  “One of your patients?”

  She raised one eyebrow at him. “I can assure you that all of my patients are proper citizens of Inverness.” She looked away and then back at him, her cheeks deepening in color. “Not that you aren’t as well, Hamish.”

  He grinned at her. “I think we can agree that I’m not.”

  “But, then, neither am I.”

  He wanted to ask her why she’d stayed with him. Lust had been at the base of his request. He’d wanted her to remain because he was hungry for a woman. He hadn’t expected to like her, to be able to laugh with her. Nor had he known any woman quite like her, a confession that he didn’t make aloud.