My Highland Lord (Highland Lords)

by Scott, Tarah

  The first cottage had burned nearly to the ground, while the back wall of the second cottage and stone chimney was all that remained of that building. He strode to the cottage on the left and stepped through what used to be the doorway, then dug the stick into the ashes and began shifting through them.

  “Be careful, sir,” Heddy called. “Coals are sure to still burn in spots.”

  “Yes.”

  Nothing but ash turned up in his search and he went to the second cottage. The doorframe stood waist high, and he stepped carefully over the threshold. He shuffled throughout the cottage, stopping to turn a board over with his boot or prod at the ash with his stick.

  After several moments, Heddy said, “Does anything of interest remain?”

  Kiernan turned and met her gaze. “What of interest could remain? Perhaps the coverlet that Evvana’s great-great grandmother made? Or the new pair of boots Logan’s brother sent him for his birthday?”

  “Any of those things would be of interest.” Her eyes softened. “The girl was not badly hurt in the fire.”

  “So Winnie says,” he said, and began picking his way to the far corner.

  “How many tenants live on your land?” Heddy asked.

  “It isn't my land.”

  “How many tenants on your father’s land, then?”

  Kiernan’s stick hit something solid. He pushed aside more ash until the remains of a glass lamp became visible. “Heddy, come have a look at this.”

  She started forward.

  Her skirts swished and Kiernan jerked his head around. “No. I forgot your skirts. It's too dangerous to walk through the cinders.”

  He stuck the stick through the handle of the lamp and lifted it carefully.

  She stepped back as he carried it over the threshold. He squatted and set the lamp on the ground at her feet.

  Heddy followed suit and studied it for a moment. “The glass is still in tact. Had the lamp been the cause of the fire, it would have fallen over. Why didn't it break?”

  Kiernan tipped the lamp slightly to one side. “Good question.”

  “Are you, by chance, involved in a feud?”

  He looked up to find her studying him. “We're not at war,” he replied.

  “I only thought…”

  “Thought what?”

  “If you are helping tenants evicted by the duchess…”

  Kiernan came to his feet, pulling her up with him. “Be careful, Miss Ballingham. Such accusations are dangerous. The duchess wouldn't take kindly to being accused of arson.”

  “I didn't accuse her.”

  “Who then?”

  Heddy shook her head. “I'm not accusing anyone. It's just that such associations—”

  “What associations?”

  “Associations such as Alan Hay.”

  “Do not meddle in things you know nothing of. That's just as dangerous as throwing allegations at someone as powerful as the Duchess of Sutherland.”

  “For whom?”

  “The person making them.” Kiernan looked around, searching the men milling throughout the square. “Nelson,” he called. “Come here, if you please.” When Nelson reached them, Kiernan said, “Be so kind as to see Miss Ballingham back to Brahan Seer.” He turned to her. “I'm going north. I won't be back for at least two days. This is goodbye, Heddy.”

  "Goodbye?"

  "I expect Regan will fetch you before I return."

  Her lips pursed.

  Ah, so she didn't regret seeing him go at all. "You're not still angry with him?" he asked.

  She sighed. “I can make the short walk to the castle myself. No need for your man to accompany me.”

  “I wager you can, but I prefer you not wander about alone.”

  Her brows lifted in polite inquiry.

  “You remember my mention of the piper?” he asked.

  Her regard remained detached. “Once you're gone, what is to stop me from leaving?”

  “Good sense, I would hope. If you should decide to leave, I suggest you don't stop. I am known as a relentless hunter.” With that, he strode away.

  *****

  Phoebe had consulted the maps in the MacGregor library immediately after Kiernan left that morning and, as Alan Hay had said, the duchess' land was far to the north. Earlier, on her way to the kitchen, she had calculated their journey. They wouldn't reach her anytime soon, especially on foot. But by the time Phoebe reached London and Lord Briarden dispatched someone to warn the duchess, it could be too late. Her best choice was to slip away from Brahan Seer and ride as fast as she could for London. Kiernan had been gone several hours now, long enough for her to have a head start that would ensure he didn't catch her. From the corner of her eye, Phoebe caught sight of a tall figure that filled the kitchen doorway.

  She shot to her feet, toppling her chair. “Lord Stoneleigh.”

  “Phoebe,” he said.

  At his one word, the bustle in the kitchen ceased. Phoebe didn’t have to glance at Winnie to confirm her intense gaze. Phoebe groaned inwardly as the earl made his way past the women who stared at him with unabashed curiosity.

  He reached for Phoebe’s hand. “Why so formal, my dear, we're old friends, aren’t we?” His brown eyes held hers as he pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. Releasing her, he looked at Winnie. “Winnie, you grow lovelier each time I see you.”

  “Off with you, you scoundrel.” She waved him away and turned her attention to the batter she’d been stirring.

  Phoebe wasn’t taken in by the old housekeeper’s casual manner, but faced the earl when he said to her, “I take it you’ve had a bit of an adventure?”

  “That is one way of putting it, my lord.”

  He grinned. “That bad?”

  “It has been…interesting.”

  “Kiernan does have a way of livening things up.”

  The activity in the kitchen resumed at a slow pace.

  Phoebe inclined her head and murmured, “Again, my lord, aptly put.”

  He burst out laughing and she groaned inwardly when the women stopped work altogether.

  “Forgive me,” the earl said. “This is my doing. I received Kiernan’s note the day after the ball. I assumed he would realize his mistake, and gave it no further thought.”

  “Don't blame yourself. He was the one, after all, who…detained me. How did you discover the truth?” she asked, but added before he could reply, “My uncle, has he raised a fuss?”

  “Not to my knowledge. It was the letter from Kiernan asking why I hadn't come to Brahan Seer that told me of my error. It wasn’t until the ride here that I began to sort things out. Please, my dear—" his lip twitched"—I—" His body shook with silent laughter, and Phoebe scowled.

  “I know,” he said. “Abominable of me.” He wiped an eye with a forefinger. “But the look you must have had on your face when you found yourself in the clutches of the Marquess of Ashlund." Phoebe gasped, and his sputters of laughter abruptly ended. “What is it—Lord.” His eyes widened with even more hilarity. “Don't tell me you didn’t know?”

  “I did not.”

  She recalled the shout she'd heard when the men had burst in upon Alan Hay and his men. “Lay down your weapons in the name of the Marquess of Ashlund!” She groaned and reached for the chair, then remembered it lay on the floor.

  “By heavens, when it becomes known the Marquess of Ashlund held me against my will—”

  “Against your will?” Winnie interjected. “You can leave any time you like.”

  “He brought me here against my wishes,” Phoebe replied coldly. “The fact that he thought I was Heddy won't signify in the eyes of polite society—my God, what a mess.”

  Winnie pinned Phoebe with an impatient stare. “Does anyone in England have to know what happened?”

  "Good question,” Lord Stoneleigh said. "Since your family hasn't sounded the alarm, we may yet avoid a scandal."

  "I'm at a loss to understand why my uncle hasn't created a fuss."

  "I can't say,"
the earl replied. "But I heard nothing, so perhaps no one in England knows."

  “Everyone here knows.” She waved her hand, indicating her surroundings.

  “You needn't worry about anyone at Brahan Seer,” Winnie said. “We don't associate with English gentry.”

  “There are those at the inn,” Phoebe said.

  “The Glaistig Uain?” he asked. When she nodded, he said, “Is it possible to say you were visiting someone?”

  “I don't know. I can't understand why my uncle hasn't searched for me.”

  “I wish Kiernan hadn't left," he said. “Oh, Phoebe,” he added with genuine feeling, “this is my fault. Had I not complained to Kiernan…”

  “You couldn't know that His Lordship would concoct such a ridiculous scheme. He should clear up the mess, but that is impossible.”

  “True,” Lord Stoneleigh agreed. “Even if he were here, he's the last person you want to be associated with you, at this point.”

  “Sir,” Phoebe said, “you have no idea.”

  *****

  Lord Briarden had long ago instructed her to be a lady of society. What would he think once he knew that by obeying his orders, she'd gotten herself mistaken for Lord Stoneleigh's mistress, then whisked off to the Scottish Highlands?

  "You're sure you want to leave today?" Lord Stoneleigh asked as they walked along the village lane on their way to the stables.

  Phoebe nodded. "I know we'll only make the Green Lady Inn, but I am anxious to reach London as soon as possible. If there is any chance I can head off a scandal, I must try."

  "Of course," he said. "And once we reach the inn, I'll procure a maid to travel with us the rest of the way. It wouldn't do to escape one scandal only to be foisted by our innocent trip home."

  "Thank you, my lord. I am deeply grateful."

  They rounded the corner and the burnt cottages came into view.

  "Good God." He stopped.

  "It's beyond comprehension, isn't it? she asked.

  They started forward again. “What started the fire?” He lifted his hand to shield his eyes against the afternoon sun.

  “I don't know. I'm sure His Lordship will insist upon a full investigation.

  “Aye,” came a deep voice from behind them, “that he will."

  Phoebe turned to see a man, Kiernan's height, with the same striking build, striding toward them.

  “Your Grace.” Lord Stoneleigh affected a bow.

  “Regan,” he replied.

  Phoebe’s mouth dropped open as His Grace, the Duke of Ashlund, shifted his attention onto her. “You’re his father,” she breathed.

  “If by 'his father' you mean, the father of Kiernan MacGregor, aye, lass, I am.”

  Phoebe reddened. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” She lowered into a deep curtsy. “I-it is just that I—" She rose. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I have had a trying day.”

  “So I see.” He turned to survey the cottages. “I was under the impression my son had some idea what happened.”

  “He sent word informing you of the fire?” she asked.

  “Aye.” The duke strode to the cottage Lord Stoneleigh stood nearest. “This would have been Evvana and Logan’s cottage. Where are they staying?”

  “Winnie made space for them in the castle. The couple who live in the other cottage is away.”

  “In Graham country, visiting her family,” the duke said.

  He went to the other cottage and stepped across the threshold with the same care Kiernan had demonstrated. His gaze moved along the ruins. “There is nothing to salvage here. Work on a new cottage will begin immediately.” He turned. “But that will be tomorrow. The day is nearly done. Shall I escort you back to Brahan Seer?”

  Phoebe cast a glance at Lord Stoneleigh, then said to the duke, “We were leaving, Your Grace. I must return to England right away.”

  "Surely you can spare an hour?"

  "As you can see, it's growing late. We had hoped to reach the Green Lady Inn before dark."

  "I spoke with Winnie, lass."

  A shock reverberated through Phoebe. Winnie had informed the duke of his son’s indiscretion.

  “Marcus,” interrupted a passing villager. “‘Tis been a season since we’ve seen you.”

  “Aye,” he replied. “Too long. The twins keep Elise busy. She sends her regards.”

  “Those rascals, eh?” The man beamed. “Are they giving you trouble?”

  “Not nearly so much as my eldest son, I suspect.”

  Phoebe choked back a groan.

  “What has the rogue done?” the man inquired with a grin.

  “That,” the duke said, “is what the lass, here, is about to explain. Would you excuse us, Wallace?”

  “Aye, Marcus. We will see you later?”

  The duke clasped his arm. “You will,” he said, and looked at her. "Shall we?"

  Phoebe nodded and she and Lord Stoneleigh fell into step alongside him.

  “Would you mind beginning with your name?" the duke asked.

  “Phoebe Wallington.”

  She startled when his head snapped in her direction. “Wallington?" he repeated.

  "Yes, my uncle is Charles Wallington, Viscount Albery. Do you know him?”

  He shook his head. "Nay. I knew a Wallington, a man in Inverness. I'm pleased you're not related to him."

  Her heart suddenly pounded. "May I ask why, Your Grace?"

  "The man was a cold-blooded killer." Before she could digest his answer, he said, “Why is Viscount Albery's niece visiting Brahan Seer?” She dropped her gaze, and he added, “Is it so bad that you fear telling me, Miss Wallington?”

  “Your Grace, I ask that you leave the matter between me and your son.”

  He looked at Lord Stoneleigh as they started up the hill. “Have you anything to say, Regan?”

  “As the lady, says, Your Grace, this is between her and Lord Ashlund.”

  “I can always ask Winnie.”

  Phoebe inhaled sharply.

  “You don't strike me as the sort of young woman who traipses about the country with men.”

  “I assure you, I am not.”

  “Good. So, when we arrive at Brahan Seer, I expect you both to go directly to my library. I will ask Winnie to join us.”

  “Your Grace,” Phoebe said, “I beg you, leave the matter.”

  “He's my son. I cannot.”

  Phoebe steadied her breathing. “No need to ask Winnie to join us. She knows very little of the matter.”

  “A heartening thought,” he replied as they crested the hill.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Four days travel had tired Kiernan. He entered Brahan Seer’s great hall desiring nothing more than a good meal and several scotches. He made his way through the crowd gathered for the evening meal. The last three men who stood between him and the table stepped aside and Kiernan halted upon seeing his father seated at the head of the table. He noticed Heddy sitting on his father’s left and frowned.

  “Evening, Kiernan,” the duke said.

  “Father,” he replied, and started forward.

  His father raised a brow just as a hand clasped Kiernan's shoulder from behind.

  “Well, now,” came the voice of Regan Langley.

  Kiernan faced his friend. An odd light played in Regan’s eyes and Kiernan looked back at his father. “What's wrong?”

  The duke only stared at him.

  “Damnation, Father, what is it? Is something amiss with the twins—Elise?”

  "Nay. She and the children are well."

  "Heddy,” Kiernan turned to her, “I expected you and Regan to be gone. Are you ill? For God’s sake, someone tell me what's wrong.”

  “What's wrong is that you are addressing the lady by the wrong name,” his father said.

  Kiernan’s frown deepened. “What?”

  “Her name—Phoebe Wallington.”

  Kiernan yanked his attention back to her. The low drone of voices in the hall, the clatter of pans in the kitchen, all faded into the
background of a silence that hung between the four of them.

  “Good God,” he whispered.

  “Not quite my reaction,” his father said. “But considering the lady's presence, it will do.”

  “Father,” Kiernan began, but halted at the warning look on his face and turned again to Phoebe. “Heddy—”

  “Phoebe,” the duke cut in sharply.

  Kiernan nodded. “Phoebe—Miss Wallington, I had no idea.”

  “Nay?” his father demanded. “Miss Wallington informed me she revealed her identity the night you abducted her. You are saying it's not true?”

  “It's true.”

  “Then do not compound your wrongs by lying.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “‘Tis not me you should apologize to.” His father cocked his head in Phoebe’s direction.

  Kiernan turned to her. “Miss Wallington, I am sorry.”

  "That's all?” the duke demanded.

  "I will, of course, make it right. I'll have an announcement immediately sent—"

  "No," she interrupted. “As I told your father, things aren't as bad as they appear."

  “What?” Kiernan stared.

  “Lord Stoneleigh assures me my uncle hasn't acknowledged my disappearance. I have already sent word that I am well and visiting friends in the north.”

  “The devil you say?” Kiernan looked at Regan, who gave a nod of confirmation, then turned back to Phoebe. “You said he would move heaven and hell for you.”

  Her lips tightened. “Sir, I would not look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm offering you a way out.”

  “Offering me a way out? Madam, honor dictates there is no way out.”

  “My freedom for your honor?”

  “I would think it would be your honor, as well." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm sorry. Get whatever notion you have of avoiding a scandal out of your head. You have no choice.”

  Her eyes blazed and she faced his father. “Your Grace, I remain firm in my resolution. I will not marry your son. This is Scotland, and women here have the right to refuse any offer, no matter how fantastic it may be.”

  “But you aren't Scottish,” he replied.

  “We are in Scotland, therefore, Scottish law prevails.”

  “But your uncle is English, and he will demand you marry.”

  “Think of the life you sentence me to,” she begged. “You force me into a marriage that neither of us wants.”