by Julia London
Daisy sighed with impatience and sagged against the back of the settee.
“I am quite shocked by your behavior this evening, Daisy. I never took you for a wanton.”
“Shocked,” she repeated. There was a time she might have been mortally wounded by such a claim, but she was too old, too widowed, too uncaring to deny it. She shrugged and picked up her embroidery. “I am not a wanton, Robert. I am a widow.”
He watched her resume her needlework, waiting for her to say more, then rubbing his chin uncertainly when she did not. He suddenly went down on his knee before her, pushed the embroidery aside and grabbed both her hands. “Listen to me, darling. You must have a care for appearances. But...but when we are wed, I promise you will find every imaginable delight in my bed.”
Ah, but it would be her bed, wouldn’t it? Hadn’t he already mentioned Chatwick Hall? Moreover, she rather thought she could imagine the delights in bed very clearly, and they did not excite her. Daisy smiled dully. “Do you promise?” she asked sweetly. Like a proper chaste virgin, precisely as he wanted. Like a woman who was dead inside but playing her part.
He stroked her face, then kissed her tenderly. “I do.” He stood up and looked around the room, as if he was uncertain what to do next. He picked up his book. “I should like to retire now. Perhaps you should, as well.”
To end this perfectly dreadful evening, he would also tell her when she ought to go to bed, as if she were a child. “Of course,” she said, carelessly tossing aside her embroidery. “Good night, Rob.” She walked from the room, acutely aware that there was no fire between them, no flames to engulf them. And for some peculiar reason, she was glad for it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE TRIP TO Balhaire was as hard as Daisy suspected it would be. She, Belinda and Ellis were in the coach they’d hired when they had arrived in Scotland, and Uncle Alfonso and Robert rode borrowed horses. The road was very narrow, disappearing in parts, pitted in other parts. They made wretchedly slow progress down the glen. At one point, Belinda remarked that the people walking toward Balhaire through the meadows with bundles on their back or pulling carts behind them were moving faster than the coach.
Daisy forgot her discomfort when they neared Balhaire and passed another meadow where men erected tents.
“What is it for?” Ellis asked, crowding in beside her at the window to have a look.
“I don’t know,” Daisy said.
From there, the coach moved into a sizable village, teeming with people and animals that wandered in the lanes, jostling past wagons loaded with wares for the squat buildings that lined both sides of the high road. The entire village was shadowed by the fortress up on the hill, toward which they slowly wended, until they reached the gates.
Daisy had seen many castles in her life, but this one was quite imposing. It had towers and wings jutting off this way and that. She supposed someone could very easily get lost in there, and unthinkingly she put her hand on Ellis’s.
As they pulled through the massive wooden gates, someone shouted, and the coach rolled to a stop. A moment later, the door of the coach swung open, and a beefy, ginger-haired man with a heavy beard put his head inside. “Madainn mhath,” he said.
“Ah...good afternoon,” Daisy responded.
The man looked startled by her English and squinted at her as if he wasn’t certain what he’d heard. He suddenly disappeared, and the door shut behind him.
Daisy and Belinda exchanged a look of confusion.
The door swung open again, and another man glanced disapprovingly around at the three of them. “Good afternoon,” he said, his voice deep. “Lady Chatwick,” he said, and inclined his head. “Rabbie Mackenzie.” He held out his hand to her.
Daisy allowed him to help her out of the coach and waited as he helped the others. She was astounded by the activity in that bailey—there were more people and animals and so many dogs. One sniffed at her hem and her shoes now.
When they had all climbed out of the coach, and Uncle Alfonso and Robert had come down from their mounts, the ginger-haired man said something to the driver, and the coach lumbered on.
“Welcome to Balhaire,” Rabbie Mackenzie said.
“Thank you,” Daisy said and tried, unsuccessfully, to wave the dog away.
“Sguir dheth!” Mackenzie said sharply to the dog. The dog’s ears flattened, and it slowly sank down onto its belly.
“Ah...may I introduce—”
“I’ll take you in to my mother, Lady Mackenzie, then,” he said curtly, cutting her off before he would have to exchange pleasantries with Daisy’s family and gesturing to the massive door of the castle. He began to stride toward it. Daisy grabbed Ellis’s hand and hurried to catch up. Belinda, her uncle and Robert followed behind.
In the foyer, Daisy could scarcely take in all the armaments hanging above their heads before she was ushered along, down a darker corridor and into a room the size of a ballroom. In here, three long and highly polished tables stretched almost the length of the room. They were anchored by hearths on either end, and there, in the middle, was a platform on which a smaller table faced the others, with ten or so upholstered chairs along one side. Above the tables hung iron wheels full of candles that had not yet been lit. And dogs! More dogs wandered about in here, and three of them curled onto mats in front of the hearth.
Ellis had an iron grip on Daisy’s skirt, she realized, and she didn’t blame him—she would very much like to cling to someone’s skirt, too. Her uncle, on the other hand, was enthralled. “Look there,” he said, pointing to the stained glass window high overhead, and the stone arches that crisscrossed the ceiling. “Marvelous architecture, is it not?”
Daisy never answered—there was a burst of activity behind them as two women and three young children appeared through a door near one of the hearths. The children, two girls and a boy, skipped forward, stopping just before Daisy to eye Ellis with curiosity.
Her son pressed into her side.
“Welcome, welcome!”
A regal woman wearing a mantua glided toward them. Behind her were two young women, one of them heavy with child. The other, Daisy was relieved to see, was Miss Catriona Mackenzie.
“You are Lady Chatwick,” the woman said with an English accent. She sank into a curtsy. “You are our honored guest.”
“Thank you,” Daisy said.
The woman smiled, and when she did, she looked remarkably younger than the sixty or so years Daisy guessed her to be. “I am Lady Mackenzie. My daughters, Mrs. Vivienne Mackenzie,” she said, indicating the pregnant one, “the wife of Marcas Mackenzie. And, of course, you’ve met Catriona.”
“Thank you for your invitation. May I introduce my family?” Daisy asked. She made the introductions. Lady Mackenzie did not look at Robert.
When Daisy introduced him, she chose that moment to squat down so that she was eye level with Ellis. “Lord Chatwick, I am so glad you have come,” she said. “My grandchildren are desperate for playmates. And I have heard that you enjoy the caber toss.”
Surprised, Ellis looked up at Daisy.
“I told her,” Catriona Mackenzie said. “I’ve seen it with my very own eyes, have I no’?”
“I am rather good,” Ellis unabashedly agreed.
“Perhaps you might like to have a look at some of Egan’s toys?” the pregnant Mrs. Mackenzie asked and put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “I think he possesses a toy caber.”
“Aye,” the young boy said.
Ellis glanced uncertainly at Daisy. “May I?”
“Yes, of course!” Daisy said, thrilled and stunned that he wanted to go, that he was not clinging to her and begging to stay at her side.
“I’ll go along and watch after him,” Belinda offered.
Belinda and Ellis followed Lady Mackenzie’s daughters and grandchildren
from the room. Lady Mackenzie smiled at Daisy and Alfonso...but still did not look at Robert. “You must forgive the dreadful decor. My husband clings to tradition as if it were the air he breathes,” she said laughingly. “This room has remained virtually unchanged for centuries.”
“The architecture is quite impressive. I guess it to be twelfth century?” Uncle Alfonso asked.
“Thirteenth, I believe,” Lady Mackenzie said. “At least this room. Various parts of the castle have been added on over the centuries. Would you like a tour, Mr. Kimberly?”
Uncle Alfonso’s face lit with delight. “If it is not a bother, I should very much like to have a look about.”
“Not a bother in the least!” She walked to a bellpull and gave it a hearty tug. Moments later an elderly man, stooped in the shoulders, appeared. “Seamus, our guest Mr. Kimberly would like a tour of this old pile of stones. Would you be so kind?”
“Aye, mu’um,” he said.
“Perhaps you should accompany him, Captain,” she said and glanced at Robert for the first time, her gaze gone cool.
“Thank you, but I prefer to stay with Lady Chatwick—”
“Oh, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. She’ll be in good hands.” Her smile was thin.
Robert was clearly taken aback. “Ah...” He nodded curtly, his expression inscrutable, and followed behind Uncle Alfonso and his escort, who were already engaged in a discussion of architecture.
Lady Mackenzie’s warm smile returned. “We’ve put you in a suite of rooms, and your guest will have accommodations as well, but perhaps in a different part of the castle.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s go to the study, shall we? It’s much more inviting than this hall.” She looped her arm through Daisy’s and led her out of the hall. “Vivienne is expecting her fourth child at any moment,” she said. “I shouldn’t be the least surprised if the child comes during the feill. I myself was at a wedding when Vivienne decided to make her appearance. Lord Chatwick is your only child?”
“Yes.”
“You were widowed at such a young age,” she said sympathetically.
“Yes,” Daisy agreed.
“Tell me, how do you find the Highlands? I will confess I was quite intimidated when I first arrived. The landscape was so stark and lonely.”
“Oh, I wasn’t intimidated in the least by the landscape,” Daisy said. “I found it quite beautiful. I wish I didn’t have to leave it.”
Lady Mackenzie paused. “Must you leave it?” she asked pointedly and watched Daisy closely for her answer.
Goodness, she’d said too much. The lady no doubt had heard much about the Chatwick purse. She said vaguely, “Eventually.”
Lady Mackenzie smiled and resumed their walk. “Have you ever attended a feill?” she asked, politely changing the subject.
Daisy laughed. “No, never.”
“You will be astounded,” Lady Mackenzie assured her. “We’ll go down this afternoon to watch the games. You might have seen the tents on the edge of the village? That is where the games will be held. Tonight, there will be dancing here and card games if you like. Are you a gambler?”
“A poor one,” Daisy admitted. “I’ve surely lost more than I’ve won.”
They came to a closed door in the corridor. Lady Mackenzie knocked softly, opened the door and led Daisy into a room swathed in sunlight so bright it was almost blinding. But she did see a man who looked very much like Cailean, but with graying hair. He stood up from behind his desk and limped around it, heavily favoring his left leg.
“Mackenzie, may I introduce Lady Chatwick of Auchenard?” Lady Mackenzie said. To Daisy, “My husband, Laird Mackenzie of Balhaire.”
“How do you do,” Daisy said, sinking into a curtsy.
“Aye, what is said of you is true, is it no’?” Lord Mackenzie said, smiling broadly. “You are bonny, you are,” he said as he limped forward. Daisy reflexively held out her hand, and he took it, bowing over it. “I trust the travel was no’ too hard, then?”
“The roads are a bit rough,” she said, smiling coyly. “But we’ve arrived in one piece. Thank you.”
“There is naugh’ but Auchenard and Arrandale in that direction, no one to pack down the road and make it hard, aye? Have you settled into Auchenard, then? I’ve no’ seen it in many years.”
“Yes, actually, I have. More happily than I expected.”
“Pardon, but I’ve no’ allowed my son a word,” he said and looked over Daisy’s shoulder.
Daisy turned slightly; her heart leaped at the sight of Cailean. He was standing across the room, his back to the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, his arms folded across his chest. And his blue-eyed gaze bored through her. “I, ah... I beg your pardon, my lord,” Daisy said. “I didn’t see you there.” Her pulse fluttered madly, and she wanted to grip her hands together to keep them from shaking. Were they shaking? They felt as if they were shaking.
“Madainn mhath,” he said, his voice low and calm. He did not share her nervousness, clearly.
“Cailean, will you not come forward and greet her properly?” Lady Mackenzie asked, sounding a bit perturbed.
Cailean responded to that in the Scotch tongue in a low voice.
Whatever he said caused his mother to smile. “I don’t speak Gaelic,” she said to Daisy. “Since my son was a wee lad, he has expressed his displeasure with me in Gaelic.”
“I could never be displeased with you, Mathair,” he said and insouciantly pushed away from the wall and ambled forward. When he reached her, he flicked his gaze to her hand, then to her face.
She supposed he thought she should offer it. But Daisy did not offer it to the popinjay. So he reached for it, without taking his eyes from hers, and lifted it up, bowing over it, kissing the back of it. “Welcome to Balhaire, Lady Chatwick.”
She snatched her hand free. Perhaps a little too forcefully. A little too obviously.
“Shall we sit?” Lady Mackenzie asked and showed Daisy to the settee.
Cailean, she noticed, remained standing.
“Perhaps you might pour our guest a whisky, Cailean,” his mother said.
Cailean moved lazily to the sideboard.
Lady Mackenzie sat beside Daisy. “Now, you must tell me what brings you all the way to Scotland. It is so very rare for an Englishwoman to appear in our little glen.”
“Auchenard is my son’s heritage,” Daisy said. “I wanted him to see it. Unfortunately, my husband was too ill to bring him.”
“And your friend?” Lady Mackenzie asked, still smiling.
Her friend? She thought of Belinda, then realized she meant her escort. “Captain Spivey?” She noticed how they all looked at her, very still, waiting for her answer. Warmth crept up her neck—she felt almost as if she’d done something wrong in bringing him. But the invitation had clearly been extended to him, as well. “He...he surprised us all,” she admitted, searching for the right thing to say. “I had known him a very long time ago. He went to London to call on me after resigning his naval commission, and when he discovered I had gone away for the summer, I suppose... I suppose he thought to follow.”
“What a dear friend,” Lady Mackenzie said, but she didn’t sound very sincere. “How did he know where to find you?” she asked. “Auchenard is not on any known road, is it?”
Lord Mackenzie watched her like she was a mouse and he a hawk. Cailean’s gaze was locked on her, too, as he leaned over to hand her a dram of whisky. Did they think Robert had come here for Cailean? “My friend Lady Beckinsal told him where I’d gone,” she said. “Pardon, but why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason at all,” Lady Mackenzie said quickly and lightly. “We are not accustomed to strangers and it’s so very unusual to have a captain of the Royal Navy here.”
“Yes, well, he�
�s no longer in the navy.”
“Ah,” Lady Mackenzie said. “What will the poor man do without a ship to captain?”
Marry me, Daisy thought, and felt a tiny swell of misery. But she smiled and shrugged. “You must ask him, I’m afraid.”
“Indeed I will,” Lady Mackenzie said, putting aside her untouched dram of whisky. “Arran? Perhaps we ought to go and have a look at the field.”
“At the what?” her husband asked, startled.
“We discussed it earlier today,” she said, giving him a pointed look.
“But the games willna start for two hours more,” he said, sounding confused.
Lady Mackenzie rose from her seat. “Arran.”
Whatever the laird saw in his wife’s face made him change his mind. “Aye. The field,” he said.
Lady Mackenzie smiled and put her arm around his waist. “Cailean, you will see Lady Chatwick safely returned to the hall, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he said pleasantly.
“Please take your time with the whisky, Lady Chatwick. It is quite good,” she said as she and her husband began the arduous walk to the door. “We will see you shortly.” The two of them went out.
When the door closed softly behind them, Cailean looked at Daisy and smiled a little lopsidedly, and her pulse began to flutter all over again. “You may no’ have guessed it, but my mother is in the midst of matchmaking.”
“You must be terrified,” Daisy said smartly and stood up. She was still annoyed with him. Still loved him. Still felt so at odds with herself about everything, but most of all, she could not look at his eyes, at his smile, and not want to melt into him.
He chuckled. “There have been many attempts in the past. I’ve grown accustomed to it.”
“I can rather imagine that at your advanced age there have been many attempts. I would do the same were my son still unmarried as he entered his dotage.”
Cailean’s smile deepened, and he slowly raised a brow. “What has you cross, leannan?”
