Deception and Desire (A MacNaughton Castle Romance Book 1)

by Aubrey Wynne

Ian shook his head. “Och, no. Raiding isna the same as feuding. That usually comes from personal offense. Raiding was tradition, ye ken.”

  At her confused look, Lachlan explained, “We’ve a long and complicated history. Maybe yer grandmother could answer yer questions better.”

  “Back to the original subject.” Ian stood, ready to take his leave. “I thank ye, Miss—Fenella, for yer efforts here when it provided no benefit to yerself. I’m grateful ye found yer way to MacNaughton Textile.”

  Fenella cleared her throat. “There’s something else. I have found I do not need to be here every day to maintain the same duties as Mr. Pelling. Two to three days is enough time to take care of the books. There is no need to pay me for six days a week when I can do the work in half the time.”

  Anger simmered in Lachlan’s belly again, but his admiration for this woman eased his temper. She’d found theft in their accounts, then declined the full salary that had been promised her. Many females might have gloated over the men who had missed such trickery. Colin was a good judge of character if he’d recognized this pearl of a woman. And accountant.

  “I hope the feckin’ pilferer found a hole deep enough to hide in. When I find him—”

  “There’s a lady present, Brother. Besides, I doubt he’s in Scotland. Probably booked passage for America or Canada.” Ian growled low. “Grandda will be furious when he learns of this.”

  Lachlan grinned. “I dinna envy ye that task, brother.”

  *

  Lachlan made it a point to be near the office at three o’clock. He watched Fenella tidy the desk, slip on her pelisse, and tie her straw bonnet. Her simple work dress fell over her willowy limbs. He wondered why she wore such plain colors when bold shades would do her justice. She had her head down, adjusting the strap on the leather satchel, and had not yet noticed him.

  “May I escort ye outside?”

  “Oh, my.” She stopped abruptly and blinked at him. “I really need to pay more attention. Or you need to make more noise so I see you coming.”

  A strand of her pale blonde hair fell from its knot, and she brushed it from her cheek with her shoulder. He clenched his hands, driving the nails into his palms to keep his fingers from tucking the lock behind her ear. He moved from the doorway so she could pass and followed her down the stairs.

  “Colin and I discussed the Pelling situation. So this doesna happen again, we think all of us should be acquainted with our suppliers and buyers. The more eyes the better, so to speak.”

  “That makes sense.” Fenella preceded him down the stairs. “Would you like me to make a list for you? I’m sure most of them are already familiar to Colin, at least.”

  “Aye, we’d appreciate that. We also thought…” They reached a landing, and she turned to look at him with a smile. Her lips glistened as if she’d just licked them, and his eyes traced the outline of her mouth.

  “You thought?”

  He jerked his gaze back to her eyes. Sweet Mary! He had no idea what he’d been about to say. “We thought, well, we thought if ye didna mind… aye! What if we take ye home after ye finish a day’s work? We could show ye the district, perhaps introduce ye to some folks, and help ye get more settled in Glasgow.”

  That had come to him like lightning striking a dead tree.

  She nodded. “Let me ask my grandmother, but I’m not opposed to it.” Continuing down the steps, she began to hum.

  “Do ye like music? Is that an English tune?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, I love music.” She continued with a light, sweet melody.

  “Do ye play an instrument?”

  “I don’t seem to have a talent for it. My sister, however, is accomplished at the pianoforte.”

  “Ye have a nice voice. Do ye sing?”

  “Not well. I hum when I’m happy, though.”

  They had reached the main floor. She nodded and acknowledged each operator as they moved between two rows of looms. The employees smiled in return. Fenella stopped and spoke to a young woman who answered enthusiastically. He couldn’t hear the words, their heads bent together. When they stood outside the great front doors, he placed a hand on her arm.

  “I’m gone a week, and ye’ve already made friends with the loomers?”

  Fenella laughed. “Betsy had a cough at the beginning of the week. I brought her a honey and lemon concoction my grandmother keeps for such purposes. I only asked if it had helped.”

  That took him by surprise. He knew she was gently bred by her demeanor and speech. Her education was apparent. Not titled, but entitled to be sure. Yet, she noticed a woman in a crowded factory with a cough. He hurried down the steps, catching up with her at the curb.

  “That’s kind of ye.”

  “It’s a small gesture. She’s a widow with three children at home and an elderly mother who helps with their care. She cannot afford to be sick.”

  He helped her into the phaeton, noting the suspicious brown eyes beneath the cap of the stocky driver. The older Scot glared at him as if they had a debt to settle, but Lachlan didn’t recognize him. “Dinna forget to ask Mrs. Douglas about the escort home.”

  She flashed him a brilliant smile as she smoothed her skirts and arranged her bag on the floorboard. “Of course not.” The dour man snapped the reins, and the pair of bays lurched forward. Fenella grabbed her bonnet as the vehicle moved into the traffic.

  *

  Fenella couldn’t wipe the ridiculous grin from her face. Lachlan would be driving her home after this. She had recognized his stammer on the stairs, had done the same herself often enough. In her heart, she knew Colin would never be her escort unless Lachlan was not there.

  Just enjoy his company, she told herself, and guard your affections.

  While she wasn’t concerned about being ridiculed by him, she did worry about losing her heart to this man. He made her feel, well, valued. She forgot about her height and being awkward when he caught her in that consuming blue gaze. He respected her education and skills. But being interested in a woman wasn’t the same as courting one. Neither her heart nor her pride could afford another blow.

  “How was yer day, Miss Franklin?”

  “Perfect.” She laughed at MacGregor’s grunt and hummed all the way home.

  When she sat down with a cup of tea, her grandmother wasted no time.

  “Out with it. How did it go?”

  “You were right to tell me to get the facts first. It turns out McPherson’s is an occasional bill that the previous man, Mr. Pelling, used regularly to funnel money. He stole quite a sum and the MacNaughtons are furious. They’re already finding ways to keep it from happening again.” She grinned. “I think they’re almost as impressed with my sleuthing as they are of your shortbread.”

  Aileen flapped a hand. “So, they were being swindled? Good work, lass. I’m proud of ye.” She stood and gave Fenella a kiss on top of her head. “They’ll miss ye when ye’re gone.”

  “If I go.”

  Her grandmother beamed. “I like the sound of that.”

  “They want to know if McPherson was privy to it.”

  “Och, that mon would rather cut off his hand than cheat someone. He’ll help string the rascal up if they catch him.” She sat back down in her rocker and sipped her tea. “Any other news?”

  “I’ll only be working three days a week unless I’m needed more. He was also overcharging them for his time.”

  “He’d be wise to never step foot in this country again. We Scots have long memories and hold grudges for decades.”

  Fenella took a deep breath and revealed the last part of her day. The best part of her day. “Grandmama, Lachlan asked to drive me home the days I work to acquaint me with the district. I think it’s a good idea. Do you?” She held her breath.

  “It’s an excellent idea.” She paused, her eyes narrowed. “Do I need to send MacGregor to follow ye at a respectable distance?”

  I hope so, she thought. “He apologized for his previous behavior and seemed sincere. I believe we
can trust him.”

  Her grandmother’s brown eyes crinkled. “Good. Make sure he comes in so I can meet him. Perhaps we’ll invite him to dinner on Sunday.”

  “Oh yes,” Fenella agreed, then clamped her lips tightly at her rushed agreement. Don’t be so eager, she scolded herself.

  “What days will ye be gone?”

  “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for now.”

  “So, tomorrow?” Aileen nodded. “If ye’re day ends at three, I expect to see ye by four. We may not be as rigid as the English here, but we still have social rules and etiquette to follow.”

  “Yes, Grandmama. I’ll be home by four o’clock.” Fenella’s pulse raced like a deer in a hunt. Alone with Lachlan. Three hours a week. She sighed. That prudent voice in her head slowed the pounding of her heart. To fall in love, be betrothed, also meant to be denied the freedom to live her own life. She would again be tied to society’s expectation of how a good wife should behave. And there was Lady Franklin and her vehement denial of her own Scottish blood.

  Just enjoy his company and don’t try to see into the future, she thought. Yes, that was it. Be more like Evie and live for the moment.

  Chapter Ten

  A Flowering Friendship

  “Never heard of him.” Clang! Hammer against steel. Scrrrrtcth! McPherson pulled the giant metal hook across the anvil and flipped it over. The white-hot fire crackled and shot out sizzling sparks with each slam of the iron tool. “Kept yer books, eh? I only dealt with yer manager, and I’ve no’ seen him in two months.”

  “Did ye ken Pelling was marking ye in our books for thirty-five pounds a month?” asked Lachlan, not wasting any time on chitchat.

  “What are ye talking about, mon?” One sooty gloved hand paused mid-air. “I’ve barely stepped foot a dozen times in yer mill. I’m only called when something can’t be fixed without a new part.”

  “According to our ledgers, seven hundred pounds has gone to McPherson’s Forge over the past two years.” Colin crossed his arms across his chest, his dark hair glinting blue in the glow of the furnace. “That’s quite a pile of coin.”

  “Some fecking weasel used my name?” McPherson lowered his arm and Lachlan was glad his name wasn’t Pelling. “I’ll melt his blasted face off his skull.”

  “Do ye think the manager ken what Pelling was doing? They left about the same time,” asked Colin.

  The blacksmith shook his head. “He was a good mon and worked hard for every shilling.”

  After meeting McPherson, Lachlan’s instinct told him the man was honest. Looking around the small forge, it appeared lucrative but not raking in hundreds of pounds anum. His cousin had been right.

  “Thank ye for yer time.” Colin held out his hand and shook McPherson’s gloved one. “Would ye keep yer ears out for any talk? We’d appreciate it.”

  “For certain,” agreed the blacksmith, “and if ye find him, save some hide for me, eh?”

  Lachlan led the way out of the forge. “Time for a whisky. Ian is waiting at the townhouse.”

  “There better be some of the aged barrel left. Yer brother’s quite fond of the good stuff.” Colin waved for the boy to bring their horses. “I’ll make some inquiries over the next couple days. See what we can find out.”

  *

  Lachlan arrived at the mill with a whistle on his lips. At least a month’s reprieve, an attractive woman under foot, and bargaining to be done for shipments. How he loved to haggle and get the best price, buying or selling. It gave him the same warm, satisfied glow as a good scotch or a soft, willing female.

  “What’s got ye so blasted cheerful?” asked Colin, eyes bloodshot and the rumpled shirt tucked into his kilt, looking as if he’d slept in it.

  “Weel, my foggy cousin, I ken when to quit drinking.” He gave the suffering man a hard smack on the back and laughed when Colin winced.

  “Take yer happy arse away from here or find me a tonic to help this aching head,” he grumbled in answer.

  “Perhaps another wee nip will help?” Lachlan reached toward his sporran.

  “I’m warning ye,” he growled.

  “Take heart, mon. Ian feels as poorly as ye do, but he’s stuck in a saddle.”

  A gruff chuckle followed Lachlan up the steps. In truth, he had only stopped at four drinks because of Fenella. He didn’t want a bleary mind when bantering with a pretty lady, and one he was hoping to give a favorable impression. He’d asked around about Mrs. Douglas. She was well respected in Glasgow, as her husband had been. The book store, though prosperous, had become too much for her to manage alone over the years. He understood that, as his own grandfather had quit making the journey to Glasgow.

  He wondered why Mrs. Douglas hadn’t let her granddaughter take over the shop, considering Fenella’s talent with numbers. Perhaps the girl hadn’t been interested in such responsibility. It didn’t seem likely, though.

  Lachlan headed for the dock. There was a shipment coming in and several going out. He needed to be a familiar face and presence to those involved with the imports or exports. It would be a long day, waiting for three o’clock.

  About noon, he peeked into the office. “Are ye still allowing me to take ye for a ride after work?” he asked with his most charming smile. “Dinna disappoint me or I’ll never get through this day.”

  She laughed, her eyes glinting silver with mischief. “You look better than Colin today. Is he not feeling well?”

  “A bit of the Scotch plague, I think.” He grinned. “Fortunately, it’s no’ contagious if one has a wee bit of temperance or a good reason to resist it.”

  “And which is it for you, sir?”

  “Both, if ye must ken.” Och, she was an impudent lass today. He liked her spark. “I’ll see ye at three, then.”

  The whistle came back to his lips, accompanied by the faint sound of humming behind him.

  Lachlan sent the boy Malcolm with a message to bring round the wagon.

  “A wagon?” squawked Sorcha. “Ye’re driving her home in a rickety wagon?” The older woman shook her head.

  “Why not?” He’d figured to pick up some supplies along the way. Make the outing both business and pleasure since his day wouldn’t end for several more hours.

  “Ye’d best be learning how to seriously woo a lass. She’s no’ some widow who’s happy with a roll in the—”

  “Who said I wanted to woo her?” Lachlan raked his fingers through his hair. Sweet Mary! Did everyone know his mind? “I’m only showing her the district and bringing her home.”

  Sorcha snorted. “And I’m the Queen of Scotland.” She walked away and returned with a square cushion covered in a soft green cotton. “Bring Malcolm with ye to make a name with her grandmother. Let her sit on this so she doesna get any splinters from the hard bench.”

  “I dinna think about her backside,” he said with a smirk.

  She shoved the bolster at him, mumbling, “A dimwit and a liar.”

  He grinned, tucked it under his arm, and dashed up the stairs. When he reached the office, Fenella was sitting behind the desk ready to go. Her straw bonnet was tied under her chin, and the satchel on her lap. A smile turned up those plump pink lips. Desire began a slow throb in his belly.

  “Yer chariot awaits, my lady,” he said, in a terrible English accent.

  “Thank you, sir.” She stood and accepted his offered arm.

  “I should warn ye, it’s only a wagon. I thought I’d pick up a load of bleach and save the cost of delivery.” He held up the cushion. “Sorcha sent this to keep ye comfortable.”

  Fenella laughed. “I’ve spent hours in a saddle. I think I’ll survive a short time on a wagon bench.” She accepted the gift. “But thank her for her thoughtfulness.”

  “I will.”

  “And I should warn you, I need to be home by four. Orders from my grandmother.”

  “I dinna want the wrath of Mrs. Douglas upon me on the day I meet her.” Lachlan gave her a wink. “We willna tarry at St. Rollox.”

 
; Outside, Malcolm waited next to the chestnut horse harnessed to the wagon. With a small but steady hand, he kept the animal in place.

  “G’afternoon, Miss Franklin,” he said, red-faced and staring at the dusty ground. “Ye look bonnie today.” He peeked up at her with wide brown eyes.

  “Why thank you.” She bent and tousled his red hair.

  “Ye look grand every day, Miss Franklin,” he blurted, then busied himself with the bridle.

  “Looks like ye have an admirer.” Lachlan chuckled, then caught her gaze before he pulled down the step. “He’s right, though. Ye’re a bright spot in my day.”

  She looked surprised. “I’ve been told I’m too tall and too academic.”

  “Ridiculous,” he said, wondering what other nonsense filled her lovely head. He took the cushion from her, placed it on the seat, and handed her up. He whispered for Malcolm to join them as he walked in front of the wagon. Lachlan climbed in next to Fenella, and the boy scrambled into the back. With a cluck and a swish of the reins, they moved forward, and he guided them into the traffic.

  “I thought for propriety’s sake, we’d bring along a silent chaperone,” he said with a meaningful look at the lad over his shoulder. “Mrs. Douglas will appreciate it, I imagine.”

  “I’m sure she will! And I’m happy to have his company.” She glanced at the boy. “Though it won’t be easy for him to stay quiet.”

  “I can—” Malcolm covered his mouth with a grimy hand and leaned back into a corner. His determined face made both adults laugh.

  *

  Fenella held the strap on the side of the bench. The vehicle had an ancient suspension system and bounced over every track and small rut. The heavy traffic, wagons, cursing drivers, neighing horses, and shouting vendors became a background noise as she concentrated on Lachlan’s voice. That deep timbre and lilting brogue had her stomach fluttering. Men in suits and people in homespun brushed against each other as they passed on the narrow walks that ran along the street. Lachlan yanked back on the reins, the occupants pitching forward as a scroungy cat dashed under the anxious horse’s hooves. His arm stretched out in front of her, holding her in the seat. His sleeves were rolled up, and the warm touch of his skin sent a jolt through her.