by Ann Stephens
Diantha watched him leave, wishing she knew what his silence meant. She turned on her side and stared at the brocade curtains covering her windows. She had not told him the entire truth the previous evening. Difficult as he was to reach, and as much as she feared what his eventual rejection would do to her heart, she had fallen in love with her husband.
Chapter 13
Although no more untoward events occurred the house party could not end soon enough for Diantha. As she waved good-bye to the last of their guests, she could not repress a sigh of relief.
“It does feel good to have the house to ourselves again.” Kieran took her arm as they returned to the entry hall.
“Indeed, although I’m spoiled by all the recreation we’ve indulged in over the last weeks.” Diantha’s heart turned over as Kieran kissed her cheek.
“If you say so, but I think getting shot is a drastic excuse to change your hairstyle.” He grinned as they climbed up the grand staircase. “I have a lot of work to catch up on, but we could go riding on occasion.”
Archie took a dim view of the idea. The first time she and Kieran rode out together he ordered her husband not to tire her. “You leuk ower her well, you scamp! She’s not been a’horseback that long.” Touched, she realized that for once the ghillie spoke of her safety, not Dancer’s.
The only roads on Duncarie traveled from Ulladale, a village just beyond the estate, to Cariford on the coast; and one from the house to the far side of the valley, where several tenants lived in stone crofts.
Diantha expressed concern over the often primitive houses the first time they visited the far side of the valley. Kieran nodded his agreement as he rode beside her on his black hunter. “I hope to use some of the increased funds at my disposal to improve them.” He sighed. “My forefathers didn’t engage in the wide-scale clearances that so many others did. I’m sure it’s a credit to our family motto, but it means there are a great many crofts to repair.”
“ ‘We guard our own.’ “ Diantha repeated the words carved around every stone fireplace in Duncarie House. “It’s a worthy goal.” She enjoyed meeting the crofters, although the knowledge they seemed to have of her activities astounded her. Kieran explained with a chuckle that several of them had relatives working at the house.
They explored more of Duncarie as her riding improved. A cleft at the far end of the valley opened to a narrow glen on the way to the seashore. On one side of that dark valley, a promontory etched its top against the sky.
Kieran glanced up at the cliff as they passed. “Eventually, several Rossburn tenants rebelled against the attempts of the English to burn them out of their crofts. The local commander ordered every man arrested or captured to be thrown over the edge.”
“Arrested or captured? He didn’t even try them?” Diantha shuddered as he shook his head. “That’s barbaric!”
“And several other innocent families were burned out, marched to Cariford and told to learn fishing or be deported.”
“Is that the origin of the village?”
“There were a few fishermen there before. It’s a natural harbor. There are still descendants of some of those families living there.” He glanced at her. “They regard you in the light of a patroness due to the boats your father is sending.”
Her heart leaped for a moment at the tenderness in her husband’s voice, but she told herself she only fancied hearing it. As she stared blindly ahead, she ruefully reflected that she would rather have the affection of Duncarie’s lord than that of its people.
Another day they rode to one of the hill lochs, small cold lakes teeming with fish. She spent the afternoon on the shore sketching while Kieran fished.
As he cast his line out again and again, a mischievous smile curved her lips. Under her fingers, a rough drawing of her husband’s muscled back came to life. The pencil moved lower, outlining the firm rear end and long legs.
A splash and a tiny fountain of white marked the attempted escape of a trout from his hook. Reeling the line in, he waded into the chilly waters to grab the fish and tuck it into the wicker creel slung over one shoulder.
She closed the pad and set it down on top of her jacket, discarded in the muggy afternoon, content to watch his strong body wading back to shore. “You look like a kelpie.”
He looked down at himself and roared with laughter. “I’ve never heard of a kelpie with a fishing rod. They take the form of horses.”
Diantha gurgled with merriment at the wet legs of his breeches and muddy feet. “I found a book in the library which says that once a kelpie sought a woman for warmth and companionship.” He gave her a sharp glance.
Leaning back on her elbows but looking straight ahead, she went on with the story. “The girl he courted was clever and consulted a wise man about the handsome stranger who always met her with a string of fish and wet hair. The two of them captured the kelpie and put him to work until he learned the meaning of compassion.”
She tilted her head back. To the northeast, a bank of dull clouds stretched across the sky. “At the end of his servitude, he was given the choice of returning to his loch or drinking a potion that would make him fully human.”
The heavy air seemed to suffocate her. “By then he had fallen in love with the girl, so he chose to stay with her.”
Kieran seated himself nearby, drawing up his legs and resting his hands on his knees. “The version my nurse told me was slightly different. Instead of capturing him, the girl tells him she knows what he is.”
He too stared into the distance as he spoke gently. “Although he craves her human warmth, he is a water spirit. He leaves her rather than break her heart.”
“That certainly proves his gender.” Diantha scram bled to her feet. “Only a male would reach such an idiotic conclusion.” Unable to bear the sight of his beautiful body without touching him, she strolled away, giving him one glance over her shoulder.
Kieran stood as well, but stayed in place. “He was trying to be noble!” His voice followed her as she walked. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
By the time she turned to face him, she had unbuttoned her blouse. “I don’t want to get captured by a kelpie.”
He eyed her hungrily as the white garment fluttered to the ground. “Can you swim?” His hands dropped to unfasten his breeches.
She sucked in her breath and shook her head. “Mama considers it even more unladylike than riding.”
His trousers hung loosely off his hips as he strode toward her. “She may be right. And you never know when you may meet a dangerous water creature.”
Diantha shrieked and tore across the turf. With a roar, he caught up with her in no time, carrying her to level ground. Laying her flat on her back, he swept her skirt and petticoats up to expose her drawers. Using both hands he widened the slit in the undergarment, then bent forward to brush his mouth over hers.
Heart pounding, she nibbled his lower lip. “I thought the kelpie enticed maidens to ride him.”
His eyes darkened to green above her as he sucked in a breath. “I believe they do.” Rolling onto his back, he pulled her on top of him, his hands scrabbling to shove cloth aside. “Ride me, my clever girl.”
Reaching down, she felt hot hard flesh in her hand. She squeezed and stroked him until he shut his eyes, groaning. Only then did she raise herself up on her knees to straddle him. As the thick length of him slid up inside her channel, he worked her breasts free of her corset. She threw back her head with a hoarse cry as his mouth closed over a stiff pink nipple.
Yes, she would ride her dark lover. Perhaps she could capture him after all.
Much later, she shivered as she lay on his chest. His arms held her securely as one hand stroked her hair. Silently, her fingers traced his high cheekbone. She shivered again. The wind had turned cold, she realized.
Kieran raised his head. “Damnation!”
Disoriented, she rolled off him. “What?”
“I think we’re about to get caught in a storm.” Sure enough,
the clouds in the distance approached steadily now, with unmistakable slants of rain beneath them.
It hit them halfway back to the manor. Not just rain, but battering winds, lightning, and thunder. “A gale!” She could hardly hear him over the rain beating over them.
They clattered into the stable yard only to receive a dressing down by a furious Archie Green as their steaming beasts were taken away by the grooms. Slipping through a side door, they squelched their way across the kitchen, ordering cans of hot water to be brought up to their rooms for baths.
A chill shook Diantha’s body. “I fear we may have to set dinner back.”
Kieran hugged her to him, although he was not much warmer. “That would hardly be fair to Iona and Barclay.” He shouted down the narrow stairs after the scurrying servants. “Send up dinner for two to Lady Rossburn’s room.”
A worried Florette hurried her out of the sopping wet habit and into a heavy robe after Kieran had pushed her into her room. Even huddled in a chair next to the fireplace, her teeth chattered until hot water arrived for her bath.
Finally warmed through, she dressed in a longsleeved tea gown and relaxed until a footman brought in a small table, followed by another bearing a tray filled with covered dishes.
Knocking on his door, she told Kieran their meal awaited, then dismissed Florette and the other servants.
Much later, she sat back in her chair, stomach full. The gale had blown inland by then, leaving only a steady rain to tap on the windows. “I think this has been the most enjoyable dinner I’ve eaten at Duncarie.”
Opposite, her husband’s eyes gleamed in the firelight as he rubbed a finger on the rim of his wineglass. “MacAdam won’t care for that remark.” Under the table one of his bare feet slid up her unstockinged leg under the tea gown’s loose skirt.
Pushing her chair back from the table, she rose to her feet. “I referred to the company, not the quality of the food. MacAdam always excels.”
He stood too, clearly prepared to pounce. Her heart pounded and she bit her lip in anticipation.
They both jumped when someone pounded on her door. “Open up!” Barclay pounded again.
“Word just came from Cariford that the fishing boats were caught in the storm.”
Kieran closed his eyes. “Oh my God.” He called to his cousin through the door. “Were any lost?” “All of them.”
Chapter 14
Kieran gripped the back of his chair, ashen-faced at the news. Only the soft snaps of the fire and the rain striking the windowpanes filled those few seconds of silence.
She took a step toward him, but he lifted a hand, sharply, to fend her off. “No!” He regarded her as though he could not focus clearly. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”
Hurt at his rebuff, Diantha swallowed. “Of course, I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He sighed, and it seemed to her that a burden of immense heaviness settled on his shoulders. “Pray for the dead.”
She nodded, unsure of her next course of action.
Barclay’s voice burst through the door. “Kieran!” Anger shaded it now.
She wanted to hold him to her, to comfort him, but he only turned and disappeared into his room. His departure released her from her own state of suspended animation. Going to the bellpull, she jerked it imperiously.
By the time Florette entered, she knew what she wanted to do in the immediate future. “I need to dress, and the table must be cleared away. I should find out if the house has any supplies which can be sent along.”
The Frenchwoman nodded soberly. “Oui, milady.”
Diantha dressed as quickly as she could, feeling remarkably useless. Her father’s company had lost ships only twice in her memory. They had been serious occasions, but had involved no more action on her part than attending the memorial services with her mother.
This would not do. Rising from her dressing table, she moved to her writing desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. She needed a list.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft scratching quill on paper and the clink of dishes. She lifted her head and swiveled around in her chair. Florette had quietly stacked the dishes and stood prepared to pick up a tray.
Diantha regarded her lady’s maid in amazement. “Whatever are you doing? We can summon footmen.”
The older woman’s hands stilled. “I know, milady, but this news has affected many of the servants. Several had friends or relatives on the boats.” She sighed. “Not only that, many large waves hit the town. They fear the town itself may be badly damaged.”
Diantha shuddered, then recollected herself. “I shall leave you in charge of removing the dishes, then. I shall make sure messages have been sent to the rest of the estate and Doctor Andrews. If you need me I shall probably be in the gallery or the drawing room.”
She left her chamber to find signs of panic immediately. Charles, the footman, rushed up the stairs with a housemaid in tow. Seeing her, both came to a halt. The footman apologized for not fetching the dishes from her room earlier, while the young girl beside him tried to choke back her tears.
Diantha took command. First asking Charles if he knew anyone on the missing vessels. At his negative answer, she asked him to take a note to Dr. Andrews in Ulladale. “You will notice it on my writing desk. When you get back from your errand, please come find me.”
He nodded and gave the girl a sympathetic look. “Beattie here is from Cariford, your ladyship.”
As he hurried off, she put her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “My dear, I am so sorry. Did you know anyone on the boats?”
A sob escaped the servant. “Me dad’s a fisherman—and Jamie Cruikshank—we were supposed to be married in the fall.” A lump rose in Diantha’s throat as the slight body shook with weeping. “Please, I must go home. Me mum needs me.”
“Of course, I understand.” Leading the girl to a bench, she held her close and rocked her while she cried.
The door to Kieran’s bedroom opened. She scarcely recognized her husband in the grim-faced man that stalked down the hallway. Dressed in heavy trousers and a thick jumper, he resembled a villager.
For the sake of the girl sobbing on her shoulder, she softly called him. “Kieran?”
He looked at her absently, the way he had when they were first engaged. Her heart failed her before she reminded herself that he had just suffered a shock.
She told the girl’s story briefly. “I told her we could spare her for a few days to go to Cariford.”
“No!” He nearly shouted the word before hunkering down to the servant’s eye level as she sat next to Diantha. He took her hand until she lifted her gaze to his. “Beattie, I know you want to go to your mother, and I think you have two sisters as well?” He spoke firmly, but gently. “Think: all will be confusion for the next few days, and you won’t be able to help.
“Now, if your family needs you, perhaps we can find a place for them near here. Don’t you think that would be better?” She hiccupped and nodded. “Good girl. Now, go downstairs and have a cup of tea to compose yourself. I’m going to Cariford now and I promise to send word of what has actually happened.”
The small maidservant heaved herself to her feet. “Thank you, your lordship.” Hanging onto the wall for support, she slowly made her way toward the stairs.
Kieran’s gaze followed her for a moment before he took Diantha’s arm. “Come with me, please.” Opening the door to the nearest room, he drew her inside.
Alarmed at the tightness in his voice, she turned to him as soon as he shut the door behind them. They stood in an unused bedroom. All about them furniture lay shrouded in Holland covers.
He held up a hand before she could utter a word. “I understand you want to help, but under no circumstances should any of the staff be allowed to return to Cariford just now.”
She gaped at him in disbelief. “That is the most inhumane thing I have ever heard!”
He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Diantha, h
ave you ever seen the aftermath of a shipwreck?” She shook her head. “It’s hideous. That poor child is suffering enough. Do you think the sight of her father or her sweetheart after three days in the water will ease her grief?”
His words brought her up short. “I’m sorry, I was stupid.” She grimaced. “I suppose this means you don’t want me there either?”
He placed a hand under her chin and lifted it until she looked into his eyes. They were red-rimmed. “Not stupid. You just didn’t know.” He took a shaky breath. “You have no idea how much I will want you there, sweetheart. But I need you here.”
She did not want to cause a scene, but he was pushing her away once again. “Iona can run the house. Surely there is something I can do to help.”
“There is.” He pulled her into a hard embrace as his lips grazed her hair. The rough wool sweater prickled against her cheek as he took a near-sobbing breath. She wondered why as he spoke. “Look after my mother. And stay here. I need you safe.”
He tilted her head back, fingertips brushing her cheek. Kissing her deeply, as if he wanted to take her breath with him, he then let her go. With a last look and a shaky breath, he left.
The next morning dragged past. Diantha divided her time between her mother-in-law’s room and the gallery, where Iona sat near the great window at the far end. Barclay disappeared into the estate office.
When he did emerge for luncheon, he spent most of the meal frowning down at his plate. Only the two of them sat in the main dining room, for Iona had retired with a headache. Further, she had ordered that until the household returned to normal, servants need only wait on the family at dinner.
Polite conversation struck her as frivolous under the circumstances, so Diantha too ate in near silence.
She eventually brought up the possibility of preparing a wagon of supplies from the house to send on to Cariford.
