by Julia London
Now Spivey twisted about, his expression full of ire. “Is there more you wish to say, Mackenzie? Or have you delivered all the dire warnings you mean to?”
“I’ve said what I came to say,” he said. “I’ll take my leave now.”
“Thank you, Arrandale,” Mr. Kimberly said. “I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been a good friend to us.”
“Don’t go, not yet,” Daisy said. “At least finish your brandy?”
“No, thank you,” Cailean said firmly. He offered his hand to Mr. Kimberly. “It has been a great pleasure, sir,” he said. “I hope to see you again one day, aye?”
“God willing,” Mr. Kimberly agreed and shook his hand effusively.
He next turned to Spivey. “Best you take the loch to the sea and avoid any travel over land.”
Captain Spivey lifted his chin. “I am quite capable of seeing the family from here.”
That remained to be seen.
Cailean had to face Daisy now, had to say goodbye. He felt sick, a little weak in the knees. He bowed over her hand, kissed the back of it, his lips lingering a moment too long on her soft skin. “You will come again.” It wasn’t a question. It was a command.
“I hope,” she murmured.
He could see the tears beginning to build in her eyes, and he wanted to spare her that, particularly in front of Captain Spivey. Or in front of him. It was heartachingly difficult as it was. “You will be missed,” he said tersely and let go of her hand. “Haste ye back,” he said. And with the small smile he managed to muster, he began to walk out of the room.
“Wait...before you go,” Daisy said behind him.
Cailean hesitated; he glanced back. Daisy moved toward him, and behind her Captain Spivey was ambling closer. The captain was not a naive man—he knew better than to let his prize catch drift too far. “Lady Chatwick?” he called to her. “Is everything all right?”
She put out her hand, halting Spivey’s advance. “Please, Captain, I should like a word with Arrandale. If he’s to look after Auchenard when we go, there are things he should know.”
She turned away from Captain Spivey and walked quickly to the door, as if she feared the captain would follow her.
Cailean followed her out of the great room.
In the corridor, she paused, glancing nervously over her shoulder. “I haven’t... There is more I want to say,” she said.
“No,” he said and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Donna say more, Daisy. Donna say what you might later regret, aye?”
She looked exasperated, but he was quite earnest.
“Och, leannan, there is naugh’ to be done for it, is there? You must keep your head about you now.”
Her brows dipped into a dark V. “What about you? You are free to say what you like, Cailean. Is there nothing you will say? No word you will leave with me?”
What word would he leave? That he would miss her? That he was sorry he couldn’t be the man she wanted him to be, no matter how desperately he wanted to? That his heart was breaking, that it felt as if she were already gone? “Tha mi gad ionndrainn. Tha mi duilich.” I’m sorry. I miss you. “Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you. Oh, how I love you. He dipped his head and kissed her lips, lingering there, relishing the taste and feel of her mouth beneath his, fighting back the torrent of memories that were rushing in his veins. He caressed her cheek, then let her go and made himself walk on, walk out of Auchenard.
Cailean put himself on his horse, but held Odin as he pranced, eager to be on his way. He looked back to the door, where Daisy Bristol, his one and only true love, stood watching him.
He didn’t believe that he would ever see her again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My heart has turned cruelly against me.
I have mourned R for so many years only to discover now that I don’t love him at all as I believed I did, and I could never truly love him. He is much changed, or perhaps I am the one who is different, but we are no longer the least compatible. I cannot even believe he has come because he once loved me as he claims. I think he has come because of my fortune. It is only a feeling, but it grows stronger within my thoughts every day.
I have reached the conclusion that I should sooner marry a stranger than the devil I know.
I’ve not told anyone of my decision, as it seems premature. R has not formally offered for my hand after all. I will tell him once we are in London.
The news A brought is quite troubling and we all make haste in our preparations to depart. R believes A meant only to frighten him, but I believe A. He has been honest with me and I think he is now.
We are set to sail in a few days and Mr. Munro said the weather looks very fine for it.
DAISY PUT DOWN her quill, picked up the wild orchid she had cut that morning from her garden and put it to her nose, inhaling the fragile fragrance. She plucked two petals from the flower and pressed them in between the pages of her diary.
The garden has grown so; it will be so beautiful in the spring, and I shall not be here to see it. I would not have thought it possible when I first laid eyes on the terrible neglect. I am astonished at how life will flourish with the least amount of care.
She paused again, gazing outside, to her garden. It was now a riot of color; yellow and red and pink and blue and scarlet and white. She looked down at diary and dipped her quill once more.
What did A say to me? Did he speak words to pierce my heart or to hold it? It tortures me.
Torture. He’d left her with a constant pain, dull and sharp at once.
Daisy put aside her quill, shut her book and stood up from her desk. She needed an occupation. Anything to take her mind off her troubles.
She pulled a shawl around her and went out to her garden. In the potting shed, she put on her apron and gardening hat, and the gloves from which Uncle Alfonso had snipped the fingertips so that she might handle the more delicate plants. She picked up her trowel and carried on to the garden, where she got down on her knees and began to pull tiny little weeds from the dirt, one by one.
It was a glorious, sun-dappled late summer day, and yet Daisy had never felt so bereft. Her heart was heavy in her chest, and in spite of having her family with her, she felt quite alone. All of her burdens had fallen onto her, weighing her down, pressing the joy right out of her. Even her garden, with the soft music of the chimes and birds chirping overhead, did not soothe her.
She ached. Every muscle, every joint ached as if she had ague. But she was perfectly well. It was only her heart that ailed her.
After an hour or so, Daisy had cleaned her beds and pruned her bushes. She sank back on her heels and looked at her handiwork. A tear, surprising and unbidden, slipped from her eye. She swiped it away with the back of her hand.
“Daisy, my love.”
She’d not heard Robert enter the garden.
“Look at you,” he said, bending over to help her up. “Working with your hands.” He made a tsk sound of disapproval as he held them up for inspection. “You’ll ruin your beautiful hands with all this hard work.”
She slowly pulled her hands free of his, perturbed with his admonishment. “Hands are meant to be used, Rob.”
“Not all hands are meant for labor, and a lady’s hands are among them,” he said sternly.
Daisy removed her gloves and wiped her hands on a handkerchief. She wished he’d not stand so close. She glanced up at his brown eyes, eyes she once imagined were vast oceans of esteem only for her. She squinted at that foggy memory and blurted, “Eleven years ago, we were very much in love, weren’t we?”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Then why didn’t you offer for me?”
“What?” He laughed.
“Why didn’t you, Robert?” she asked again.
Now he frowned. “Daisy, darling.” He re
ached for her, but she stepped back, just out of his reach.
“I want to know,” she said.
He sighed, annoyed. “You know very well why. I was in no position to make a formal offer. I was the son of a country vicar, and you were the daughter of a baron.”
“But you encouraged me. You said we would be together always. You said you loved me and wanted to be my husband, and yet you never went to my father to try and persuade him to our desire to wed.”
“Well, naturally I didn’t,” he said, his exasperation clearly mounting. “What case would I have made? We were very young, Daisy. I would have gone in due course, when the time was right.”
When the time was right. That phrase knocked something from her past off a dusty shelf. She suddenly remembered that he had used those words with her then. He’d said he would speak to her father when the time was right.
Her gaze narrowed with suspicion. “And yet the time was never right, was it? I wonder, was it because you knew the Chatwick offer was in the making?”
Robert scoffed at that, but the color rose in his cheeks. “No,” he said, sounding vexed. “How could I have possibly known it?”
“You did,” she said softly. “You knew. Apparently everyone knew but me. You never intended to speak to my father, did you?”
“What rubbish. Of course I did,” he insisted.
Daisy didn’t believe him. She was filled with a clarity she’d never had about that part of her life until this very moment. It made perfect sense—all the clandestine meetings, the silly kissing...but the moment Daisy wanted more, Robert would back away, promising to speak to her father soon. He never did because he never intended to. He’d intended to seek the naval commission all along.
“For heaven’s sake,” Robert said. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I intend to formally offer for you now, Daisy. I love you. I have always loved you. I want only to make you happy, and after all these years, I am able to do so.” He smiled and caressed her cheek. “Let us vow to forget what happened many years ago. I was young and callow. I’d never been in love before, but on my honor as a captain in the Royal Navy, whatever I did then was because I was thinking of you, Daisy. Only you.”
She hesitated. She could believe his youth had played a role. Maybe he had loved her but had wanted to experience a bit of life before marrying. Maybe she was unfairly looking for reasons to doubt him, because her heart was somewhere else.
“We’ll think only of the future,” he said, smiling again.
The future? Daisy laughed with incredulity, but of course Robert believed her to be that stupid, stupid girl she’d once been. He smiled with self-satisfaction that he’d made her happy again. But Robert couldn’t make her happy. He could never make her happy.
“That’s better,” he said. “My heart is always made glad by your sunny smile.” He dipped his head beneath her bonnet and kissed her softly on the lips. “In a few days, we’ll be on England’s shores once again, where we belong. I will speak to the bishop straightaway, and I will be the happiest of men. And in turn, I will endeavor to make you the happiest of women.”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Now then, your uncle and I are on our way to call on Mr. Munro about some provisions we will need for our voyage.”
“Oh,” she said. “Is that wise?”
He smiled charmingly, as if he were teasing a precocious child. “You put far too much stock in the words of a thief.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll return before dark.”
“Oh,” she said again. Her thoughts began tumble and race.
Robert touched her chin. “Don’t fret,” he said and winked. He took her hands in his. “No more work in the garden—will you promise me?”
“Yes, I promise,” she said sweetly. Anything to make him go.
He strode away, calling for her uncle.
Daisy followed well behind, walking onto the terrace and watching Robert and her uncle stride down to the water’s edge, get in the boat and glide away from Auchenard. She watched them until she could no longer see them, then turned and hurried to the stables in search of Mr. Green.
When she found him, she said breathlessly, “A horse, please, Mr. Green. I mean to ride.”
She then ran into the lodge calling for Belinda as she yanked the apron from her.
“What is it? What has happened? Is it the Highlanders come for us?” Belinda cried, running out of the great room.
“No, no, all is well. You must stay here with Ellis—there is something I must do.”
“What must you do? Where are you going?” Belinda exclaimed, rushing after Daisy as she tossed her hat onto a chair.
“Riding!”
“Riding! You haven’t been riding since we’ve been here. Where are you going, Daisy? It’s unsafe! You must tell me!” Belinda frantically begged her as she followed Daisy out to the drive.
There was very little time. Daisy whirled around to Belinda and grabbed her arms. “Promise me you will not shriek.”
“What? No!”
“I’m riding to Arrandale,” she said and braced herself for the lecture she was sure would come, along with the warnings of riding too fast and the risk of breaking her fool neck.
Belinda’s face darkened. She pressed her lips together a moment. “Have a care,” she said simply.
Daisy blinked with surprise. “I will,” she said. She impulsively kissed Belinda’s cheek before hurrying on to the stables.
Mr. Green helped her onto a horse and pointed the way to Arrandale. “Just the other side of those trees, mu’um. A mile or so, not more.”
She spurred the horse, shrieking with surprise when the feisty thing broke into a gallop.
In only a few minutes, Daisy saw the chimney tops and what looked like a spire above the treetops. The horse followed a worn path down to the house and when the tree line opened, Daisy gasped with surprise and pride for Cailean—the house was beautiful. It was built of limestone, with two wings and a spired turret anchoring one end. It was not as large as her house in Nottinghamshire, but it was larger than Auchenard.
But it seemed deserted. There was no one about, no animal, not even a chicken. Daisy’s heart began to race erratically—she didn’t know what she would do if he was not there. Ride on to Balhaire? No—she couldn’t even say what direction Balhaire was from there.
He had to be there. He simply had to be there.
In the front lawn—more of an untended meadow, really—she hopped down from her mount and walked up to the door, which, oddly, stood open. Daisy leaned inside and glanced around. “Good afternoon!”
There was no response. She noticed very few furnishings in one room off the entry, but nothing else. The house looked uninhabited. She stepped cautiously inside, glancing back over her shoulder to assure herself her horse was still there before walking into the foyer. She paused and glanced up at the simple, clean lines of the plasterwork, then down at the stone tiles at her feet. The house was elegant but not overly so. It reminded her of the lodge, only finer. She turned a slow circle, taking it all in. It was odd, a house of such beauty, peaceful and soothing, standing empty on the shores of the lake. When she looked out the front door, she could see the Highlands rising up around her.
She heard the sound of boots on the stone floor and whirled around. “Good afternoon!” she called.
There was a moment of silence, and then Cailean appeared at the end of the hall before her, stepping out from another room. He was wearing buckskins and a lawn shirt, open at the collar. His hair was in a loose queue. He was holding something in his hands, but Daisy couldn’t see it and didn’t care—her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt almost sick with the thought that this might be the last time she ever saw him, this man she desired beyond sanity.
“Daisy?” he said and took a cautious step forwar
d.
“Cailean.” Her voice shook when she said it, and so did she. She suddenly broke into a run.
Whatever Cailean was holding shattered on the floor when she leaped for him. He caught her in his arms, his mouth landing on hers as he twirled her around. “Are you barmy?” he asked, roughly pushing loose tresses of hair from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“In the Highlands, if you want something, you reach for it.”
“Mi Diah,” he muttered, and kissed her again, carrying her into a room that was somewhat furnished. He put her down on a settee and kissed her décolletage, his hands sliding up her sides, his breath warm and intoxicating on her skin. They were fevered, both of them frantically clawing at each other’s clothing. Daisy pushed his shirt over his head, pulling it off him while he caressed her with his hands and his mouth. There was no need for words between them; their ardent desire was mutually shared. But Daisy was impatient—she pushed Cailean back, forcing him to sit on the settee, then lifted her skirts to straddle him.
She kissed him as she slid her hands down his chest, over his nipples, to his abdomen. She nuzzled his neck, pressed her breasts against him.
“You bewitch me, Daisy,” he said gruffly. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, you have bewitched me.” He slid his hands under her skirt, to her thighs, and then between her legs.
The touch was startling, and Daisy released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Cailean watched her as he slipped his fingers inside her, then out, glancing against the tip of her pleasure, then sliding slow and long inside her again. Her eyes slid shut, and she clung to his shoulders as he buried his face in her breasts.
He began to unlace her gown. Their craving was equally potent, so ethereal, so in tune. It was love! Intense, burning love. His fingers slid into her again, and Daisy had to hold the back of the settee as he brought her to the edge of the abyss and then happily sent her into that seemingly bottomless cavern of pleasure. She cried out with her climax, gasping for air.
