by Lily Maxton
Not when he couldn’t bring himself to speak of his memories aloud, a part of himself always kept under lock and key.
And certainly not when he couldn’t even trust his own mind. He feared the nightmares would grow worse, that someday his senses would fail him and send him back to battle without letting him return. If that happened, he’d be shipped off to Bedlam, probably.
Maybe that was where he belonged.
No, he wouldn’t marry.
Frances lifted one frail shoulder. “That would be very generous of you, though I don’t know how my niece would do in Edinburgh year-round.”
“Why?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“She’s lived unfettered for too long. She’s free here. She doesn’t have to care about what anyone thinks of her. She doesn’t have to remember that no one wanted her.”
Theo followed Frances’s gaze to the woman in question. Annabel was beside Robert again, her head inclined as he said something to her. She laughed and absentmindedly reached up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. As though she felt Theo’s gaze, she looked toward him, her hand arrested in its motion.
Her wide smile dimmed and her hand fell. The tendril of gold hair remained, caressing her cheek.
Theo looked away as his gut clenched. Guilt, he told himself, only guilt. He didn’t want to be the one to send her off to the place where she’d been unwanted. But he wouldn’t yield. His only duty was to make sure she had somewhere to live and something to live on; her happiness wasn’t part of his obligations.
“I’ll write to my solicitor,” Theo said with new determination. “We’ll get everything settled. Hopefully, it won’t be more than a few weeks.”
And then, Annabel would be gone, and maybe he could finally find some modicum of peace.
Chapter Six
Annabel turned back to Robert, feeling unsettled. There’d been something in the way Lord Arden had looked at her just then—something new. She hadn’t felt annoyance in his stare, or frustration. She didn’t know what she’d felt.
Probably a trick of the candlelight. Or maybe a moment of indigestion, on his part. He might not have even realized he was watching her. He’d been quite intent on whatever her aunt was telling him.
“How was your brother injured?” she asked before she could rein in the question. She certainly didn’t want to spend more time thinking about the earl than she already had.
“Debris from a cannon blast. His limb was amputated.”
“Ah,” she said, feeling an unwanted surge of sympathy for the man. “How long was he a soldier?”
“Four years.”
Four years of war. Annabel couldn’t begin to imagine it. “He must have seen a lot of battle.”
“He did. He doesn’t talk about it, though.”
She glanced at him, surprised. “Never?”
Robert smiled, a little grimly. “Not once. He sent us letters regularly and he didn’t even tell us about his injury. We didn’t know until he came back and we saw the evidence with our own eyes. It was…upsetting, to say the least.”
She glanced at him swiftly.
“Not because of the amputation,” Robert explained. “But because he’d undergone an operation like that and didn’t even tell us. He could have died.”
“Would telling you have changed anything?” Annabel asked. She immediately regretted the question. It sounded like she was siding with Lord Arden. She didn’t particularly want to side with anyone, especially not an ill-tempered man who disapproved of her.
“Probably not.” He smiled. “Am I being unfair?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”
“My brother has always been…a little more reserved than most. He’s never opened up to others easily. But since he’s returned…”
Annabel waited.
“It’s like he’s trying to close himself off completely. Even from us. If he didn’t feel an obligation to take care of us because he’s the eldest, he would be here alone.”
And behind the accusation, Annabel could hear the true emotions that fueled it—worry, hurt, frustration.
“Perhaps time will help,” Annabel said. It was spoken tentatively because it was a tentative reassurance. She had no idea if time would help. She didn’t know what Theo had seen or what haunted him. She didn’t know why he was closing himself off from his siblings.
She wondered, though, and she didn’t want to. If she wondered too much, she might grow to care, and that would only make her efforts more difficult.
Robert sighed. “I hope so. It feels like we’re losing him, even though he’s back.” He suddenly laughed, a little bitterly. “This isn’t a very uplifting topic. Tell me something happy. Tell me something about you.”
She did, but as she spoke, half of her mind was still turned toward the issue of Lord Arden—his worried siblings, the enigmatic man himself. It would be too easy to get sucked into the concerns of another family when she had her own family to protect.
Her resolve hardened.
Someone had to go, and it wouldn’t be Annabel.
…
The next morning, Annabel was out of the castle at dawn. She returned later with her hair in disarray from the wind and a flush in her cheeks. When she strode into the drawing room, where she’d told Catriona to sit out some items for breakfast, Lord Arden was seated at the table, a plate of fresh herring and barley cakes with butter in front of him.
She froze in the doorway, but he was already watching her from his spot facing the door.
Even without a valet, his clothes were meticulous, from the knot in his cravat to the polished gleam of his boots. He favored subdued, dark tones, black and gray and deep blue. Part of her wished he could look disheveled for once, show some hint of softness.
And then she realized there was a small hint of vulnerability in his eyes, something shadowed inside them. But then they narrowed and sharpened, taking in her disheveled appearance. She had no idea what he was thinking—his handsome face was curiously blank, but she wouldn’t be surprised if there were vast heaps of disapproval beyond the blankness.
Annabel curtsied. “Lord Arden. You are an early riser.”
“I see you are as well,” he said.
“It’s the best part of the day to be out, in my opinion.”
“Indeed.” His gaze traveled down her yellow muslin dress, to stop at her feet. “And you even remembered shoes this time,” he said drily.
She bristled and turned toward the plate of barley cakes, piling a tower of them onto her own plate. She hadn’t even realized how many she’d taken until the tower leaned, threatening to spill until she stilled it with her hand. She glanced over her shoulder at the earl, who watched her silently.
She smiled. “I work up quite an appetite when I ride.”
“Do you always ride this early?”
“Sometimes.”
“And you go alone? That’s not particularly safe,” he noted.
Her smile widened as she slipped into the chair across from him, and she couldn’t resist. “Are you concerned for my safety? That’s so very sweet of you.”
His expression soured. He took a sip of coffee. “Actually, go riding as much as you want. At night, even. I’m sure it’s thrilling.”
She lifted her eyebrows innocently. “I’ve already tried it. Sometimes I even ride with my eyes closed.”
He stared at her.
“The horses know which way to go,” she lied blithely, biting into a barley cake. She straightened as she chewed. “Have you looked at your land yet?” Her words were muffled by barley cake.
He was eyeing her as though he thought he might be imagining her lack of manners, they were so horrid. “Pardon?”
She swallowed and shot him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, my lord. Have you looked at your land yet?”
“No. We were tired from the journey. When we saw the castle, we came straight here.”
“We should go this morning! It’s quite sunny out
, if a little windy. But here in the Highlands you can’t pass up days of sunshine. They’re few and far between.”
“Not much different than England, then.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. She wanted to make him rethink living in the Highlands, not be suspicious of her motives. “Even when I lived in Edinburgh, it was much warmer. And there was so much more sunshine. It almost becomes melancholy when there are long stretches of clouds.”
“I think I’m hardy enough to manage,” he said.
She poured herself some coffee, trying to disguise a flash of disappointment. He didn’t seem concerned, at all.
Eleanor came in a moment later and Annabel smiled warmly at her. “We were just discussing going to see the land. There’s a clear path to the summit of a hill, where you can see for miles.”
Lord Arden didn’t look impressed. “What’s there to see? Sheep and more sheep?”
Annabel drew a deep, calming breath. “Among other things. It’s a beautiful view.”
“I think it sounds like a lovely idea,” Eleanor said. “Do say you’ll come with us, Theo?”
Theo grunted, which Annabel assumed was an affirmation. “Should we wait for the others?”
“I would guess they’ll be asleep for another hour or two, yet,” Eleanor said.
After they ate, Lord Arden retrieved his great coat while Annabel and Eleanor wrapped shawls around their shoulders. They headed north, past the castle. The land they traversed rose gradually until it hit a peak. There was a well-worn pathway from all the times Annabel had gone this way to reach the sea loch. It was her favorite place in the world, to sit, to think, to smell the salt and feel the mist caress her face.
She knew it didn’t matter if they liked the walk or the view, especially considering she was trying to get them to leave, but she felt like a proud hostess, showing them something she took joy in and hoping they enjoyed it, too. It made her feel painfully uncertain…a feeling she hadn’t experienced in years and hated as much now as she had then.
A gust of wind blew Lord Arden’s hair wildly about his face, and tore at least two pins from Annabel’s hair, though she’d stuck them in haphazardly. Eleanor, who’d taken much more care, was unrumpled.
“See,” Annabel said. She’d warned him against a hat. “It would have just blown away.” She added as an afterthought, “It’s not usually this windy farther south, and inland.” Perhaps a more hospitable climate would sound appealing after their walk.
He looked at her, and a slow smile spread across his face. The unexpectedness of it, the aching mischievousness in it, made her feel like she’d been punched in the gut.
“You look like a witch,” he said.
She straightened. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re what I imagine at the beginning of Macbeth, though with more lightning.”
“If that’s your idea of a compliment, Lord Arden, you’ve been a soldier for too long.”
She’d meant it as a jest, but his smile slowly faded. “Mayhap. I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Annabel tried to smile. “You’ll learn.”
But the moment had already been lost, and Lord Arden was focusing on the ground in front of him. Annabel felt a twinge of regret for that lost smile and wished she could take back her careless words.
About ten minutes later they reached the top of the rise, and she heard Eleanor and Theo both suck in a deep breath beside her. The land spread out in front of them in sharp crests and low valleys, windswept, untamed. Morning mist still clung to the highest peaks. The gray-green grass was dotted with yellow gorse and fluffy white sheep, and past the sheep, black cattle grazed. Sunlight spangled off the large loch that lay to the north in an area of lowland—today it was blue and glittering, but it changed as quickly as the Highland weather, and it could just as easily be stormy and dark, or placid and gray.
Annabel pointed out the sparse old cottages. “There are about half the number of tenants than there used to be and a few of these cottages are uninhabited, even though they haven’t been torn down,” she said. “The earl was in the process of trying to turn most of his land over to sheep. He probably would have cleared out the Highland families completely if he’d lived long enough.”
The earl glanced at her sharply. “What happened to them?”
“They left Scotland altogether or they went to Glasgow or Edinburgh for work. Some went to war. It’s happening all over the Highlands. Men will return and their land will be gone. Some families choose to leave on their own, but some are forced.”
“That’s horrid,” Eleanor said.
Annabel nodded in agreement. “It is horrid. These aren’t just buildings to be burned or torn down; these are homes. Lives.” Annabel turned to Lord Arden. She was surprised to find him studying her. “I hope you won’t finish the old earl’s plans.”
“There’s no reason to,” he said. “The income is already enough for my family to live comfortably.”
“The new landlords don’t want to live comfortably. They want to live like the lords in London do—they want expensive carriages and thoroughbreds and extravagant houses in town and hunting parks.”
“There’s more to life than capital,” Lord Arden said. “I won’t force anyone from their homes, if they wish to stay.”
She held his gaze and realized he meant it. A weight was lifted from her shoulders, even as a surge of something filled her chest—respect. Maybe even a flash of liking.
She turned away quickly. “The farmland mostly supports turnips, barley, and oats, but it’s best to alternate between them or you risk draining the land of the small amount of fertility it has. There’s a fishery that has fallen into disrepair through the earl’s neglect. You might create some jobs there.”
Annabel told herself that helping Lord Arden in this case would help the remaining Highlanders. There was no reason not to give advice.
He nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
“And that,” Annabel said, pointing to a mud-thatched cottage partway down the slope, “is Ian Cameron’s residence.”
He frowned. “Who is Ian Cameron?”
“He does several things around the estate. Currently, he’s acting as factor.”
Lord Arden’s brows lifted. “I thought the earl’s factor lived in Glasgow and only came here to collect.”
“You need to cut him from your employ then. Mr. Cameron does all the work… The Highlanders didn’t like dealing with a lowlander, but the factor never told the old earl he was having trouble. He just hired Mr. Cameron instead and gave him a meager percentage of the profits.”
“And they like this Mr. Cameron?”
“Oh, they love him,” she said. “You’ll never have trouble if you keep him on. To tell you the truth, I never trusted the old earl’s factor. Mr. Cameron’s a more honest man, anyway. Would you like to meet him?”
He looked a bit wary at the prospect. “I suppose I’ll have to at some point.”
They navigated toward the small cottage, to find Ian hauling rocks from a pile to a makeshift wall. He was a young man, striking both in looks and because of his informal dress—he was dressed only in breeches and boots and a linen shirt. He’d pushed up his sleeves past the elbow, and his arm muscles bulged as he noticed them and set the rock down.
Eleanor stared at his muscled arms, a blush spreading from her nose across her cheeks.
“If you think he’s a pleasant sight now, you should see him in a kilt. His knees are as bonnie as the rest of him,” Annabel whispered.
Lord Arden sent her a swift, surprisingly vitriolic glare. Eleanor had to raise her hand to her mouth to stifle a loud giggle.
Ian straightened, and Annabel rushed forward to make the introductions.
After the pleasantries, Lord Arden asked Ian about the number of shepherds, sheep, cattle, and drovers, the yield of the farmland, the possibility of repairing the fisheries, the quarry. He even asked about the people on his land—their na
mes, their children. Annabel found herself watching him, that odd surge of respect filling her chest again.
She suppressed the feeling almost violently, and when the earl made his excuses to leave, Annabel lifted her eyebrows at Ian, determined to accomplish what she’d set out to. It didn’t really matter if Lord Arden was surprising her. It didn’t matter that he might be a good landlord—he could be a good landlord just as easily from somewhere else.
Because those things didn’t change his plans to ship her off at the first opportunity he could find. What would Fiona and Mary do then? What would Annabel do?
Ian cleared his throat when he noticed her pointed glance. “And watch out for the wolves.”
Lord Arden paused. “Wolves?” he asked, as though he hadn’t heard correctly.
“Aye.”
“I wasn’t aware there are still wolves in Scotland.”
“I think they might be crossbreeds, from the old wolves and wild dogs. It makes them more aggressive, ye ken,” Ian added sagely.
“Have you had problems with them?”
Ian nodded. “They’re getting brasher and brasher. Formed a pack, as wolves will. I saw some circling the castle the other day.”
“Why would they circle the castle? I would think a wolf would go after livestock.”
Ian shrugged. “A normal wolf, sure. I told ye, these aren’t normal wolves. I wouldna go outside alone or without a musket. Of course, they looked fast. And stealthy. You might not have time to fire a musket.”
Lord Arden looked incredulous. “Then what would you suggest I do?”
“Be vigilant. All the time,” was Ian’s unhelpful advice.
Annabel flashed him a smile as they left, which he returned with a slight scowl—an expression that clearly said he hoped she was done involving him in her schemes. She’d been telling the truth when she’d said he was an honest man. He’d only gone along with her plan because she’d asked him for a favor and she’d never asked him for anything before.
