The Laird's Forbidden Lady, page 13
‘A glass of water is all I need,’ she said, taking a mug from the shelf on the wall and pouring a glass from the pitcher on the table. It would hold her until supper. Unless by some wonderful chance of fortune they ate at midday.
Marie Flora finished cleaning up from her baking and Selina smiled at her. ‘What next?’
‘I have some darning if you’ve a mind to help me. With Da and two boys there’s always a muckle of mending to be done.’
Selina laughed. ‘Well, that is one thing I know I can do.’
Marie Flora pulled out a basket full of what looked like rags, but as she held them up Selina saw they were rough homespun shirts and hose that had been patched and darned more than once. Immediately, she settled herself down to make the necessary repairs and while she worked she asked Marie Flora to teach her the Gaelic words for the things around them. The time flew by.
Selina didn’t remember a time when she had felt more at ease within herself or had spent so pleasant an afternoon. She was still wondering at the strange feeling of contentment when a noise outside had Marie Flora leaping to her feet. ‘‘Tis Father home for his dinner.’
She packed her sewing in the basket and took the shirt from Selina, who had just finished turning the cuff, and began setting the table.
Selina went to the window and saw a man dismounting from a horse.
Not in uniform, but still her heart began to race. Was it someone looking for her and Ian? What should she do?
‘Marie Flora, it is not your father.’
The child left what she was doing and came to the window. She frowned. ‘Why, it is Mr Tearny, the rent man. It is not his day to come.’
Tearny. An employee of her father’s. Was it coincidence he was here?
‘The Laird and I do not want anyone to know where we are,’ she said quickly.
The girl’s face asked why.
‘Please, Marie Flora, do not mention you have seen us.’ She slipped into the bedroom listening as the girl answered the knock on the door, hearing the rumble of the man’s voice, but not clearly enough to make out the words.
Her heart banged against her ribs. Her body vibrated with the force of its beating and all the while she was torn as to whether she should simply go out there and ask him to take her home.
Leave Ian without a word of farewell?
She couldn’t. It would be wrong. Besides, she had no idea what sort of welcome awaited her there. She might be thrown in prison as a smuggler.
The moment Marie Flora closed the outside door Selina stepped out of the bedroom. The child’s face was white; she looked ready to faint. She held a paper in her hand as if she feared it would bite.
‘What is it?’
She raised her gaze and Selina saw tears standing in her moss-green eyes. ‘I have not opened it. It is addressed to Pa, but Tearny said it is a notice to leave.’ She held the paper out and Selina saw the Albright seal.
‘Why?’
‘We havena’ paid our rent this quarter. Da needed a bit more time.’
Her stomach sank. What was Father about? It was wrong to throw families out of their homes. He might be ambitious, but she had never thought him cruel.
Sounds of voices outside sent Selina skipping back into the bedroom and Marie Flora running to the window.
‘It is all right,’ Marie Flora called out. ‘‘Tis Father and the Laird washing up for dinner at the stream.’
Selina closed her eyes with relief, but the heartache remained. It was wrong to turn out this family.
His hair damp, his shirt wet and clinging to his broad shoulders from where he had bathed, Ian looked weary, but also mouth-wateringly attractive. Selina had trouble forcing herself not to stare.
She’d been running into this problem from the moment she had seen him at Lord Carrick’s drum. It was pathetic. Where Ian Gilvry was concerned, she was pathetic.
And now she had all her hopes pinned on him being able to help this small family.
‘‘Tis a good day’s work we did today, lass,’ McKinly said, his weary face wreathed in a smile as his gaze rested on his daughter. ‘The Laird did young Willy’s share as well as his own.’
‘That’s good news, Father,’ Marie Flora said. Her gaze dropped to the letter on the table.
‘What’s this, then?’ he asked.
‘Mr Tearny left it but a few moments ago. I am surprised you didn’t see him.’
All the joy went out of the room and the shadows in the corner seemed to encroach as McKinly picked up the paper. His gaze went to Ian, who gave a single regretful shake of his head.
Young Thomas barrelled in. ‘Pa,’ he yelled, ‘there are soldiers riding in the glen.’
‘Ah, saints give me strength. Not so soon.’ He ripped open the paper. He stared at it, his lips moving as he read the words.
Ian’s shoulders tensed. He looked as if he wanted to snatch the paper and read it for himself. Instead he went to the window and looked out. ‘How far away are these men?’ he asked Thomas.
‘They were at Grannie’s house.’
His father looked up sharply. ‘You ijit, boy, I thought you meant they were coming here.’
The boy looked offended. ‘They might come here next. They were asking Grannie if she’d seen any travellers in the past two days.’
Ian stiffened. ‘What did she say?’
The lad gave a sly smile. ‘She said the only thing strange within twenty miles was the boggert she’d seen last night wandering the hills to the north. They rode off in that direction.’
Ian relaxed. ‘She’s an evil old woman, but she’s not a traitor.’
McKinly glanced down at the paper in his hand and then handed it to Ian. ‘We have a week to come up with the back rent or we must pack up and go.’ Hands flat on the table, he bowed his head, his eyes closed.
‘I could—’ Selina started.
Ian cut her off with a sharp chop of his hand and a glare.
‘We will sell the cow and the calf,’ McKinly said. ‘I’ll take it to market.’
‘But, Father,’ Marie Flora said, ‘we need the milk.’
Her father let go a long breath. ‘You are right, lass.’ He looked at Ian. ‘Will you buy my barley? It will soon be ready for harvest.’
Ian’s jaw flickered. ‘What about bread for your children.’
What on earth did he mean?
‘Happen there’ll be enough coppers left after Albright is paid off to buy bread.’ He looked hopeful.
Selina felt sick. How could Father do this?
Young Thomas crouched beside the hearth, his face pale, his eyes scared. A weight descended on Selina’s chest. She longed to offer comfort, to reassure this small family that everything would be all right, but she couldn’t. She had given up any hope of influencing her father by warning the smugglers and then riding off with Ian. And if she hadn’t, she would not have known any of this. But there must be something she could do.
McKinly glowered down at the paper. ‘These notices have been going out for weeks to anyone behind in their rent. Will you buy my barley before I bring it in? Will you risk it?’
‘Aye,’ Ian said, nodding. ‘It looks like a good crop. Too bad we didn’t know about this before your boy left, he could have brought the money back with him.’
‘We have a week,’ McKinly said. ‘I look forward to seeing Tearny’s face when I hand him the money.’
Ian held out his hand with a grin. ‘It is a bargain. Tomorrow we’ll work on clearing the other field of rocks, so you can plant more barley next year.’
McKinly turned to his daughter. ‘See what it is to have a Laird who cares about his people, lass? Now, where is that dinner I am smelling? My guts are kissing my backbone, I’m that hungry.’
The sight of McKinly acting cheerful, when he must be feeling desperate, made Selina feel worse than ever. She could only be thankful he didn’t know who she was. He would surely not be inviting the daughter of his landlord to sit down at his table.
The sense of being watched made her glance at Ian and she found his eyes fixed on her, his eyes narrow, his lips pressed together, as if he was holding back words, yet his gaze when it rested on her was hot.
An answering heat flared in her body.
‘After dinner, we’ll talk.’ His deep voice held a promise.
Supper over and the children put to bed, Selina sat beside Ian on the settle with the obligatory dram of whisky in her hand. She took a cautious sip. This time it did not burn so much. Holding the cup between both hands in her lap, listening to the men chatting idly about the weather and crops, she could almost imagine living this way for ever. Preparing food for a husband and children and then sitting companionably in the evening talking about the day. It wouldn’t be an easy life, but it would have purpose.
For the first time in a very long time she felt a sense of belonging. She sighed.
Ian’s hand closed around hers. Startled, she glanced up at him.
‘The glass was about to fall,’ he said with a smile. ‘You must be exhausted.’
It was a pleasant kind of exhaustion. Not the kind one experienced after a ball, when one’s head pounded and one’s feet ached from being trodden upon. It felt good. She nodded. ‘I should go to bed.’
‘A toast before you go,’ McKinly said, filling his and Ian’s glass. ‘To the Laird and his bride. May you be blessed with many sons. Slàinte!’
The two men downed their drinks in one swallow. Selina took another sip.
McKinly refilled his and Ian’s glasses. Selina held her hand over the top of hers. ‘No more for me, thank you.’
Ian raised his glass. ‘To my host. May your sons and daughter grow straight and true.’
McKinly looked pleased and the two men downed their whisky in unison.
Ian looked pointedly at her glass.
Oh, dash it. She tipped her glass and swallowed it down, sitting utterly still as the heat travelled down her throat into her belly and she tried not to gasp.
Both men laughed, but there was a pleased look in Ian’s eyes, a warmth that heated far deeper than the spirit.
‘It will help you sleep,’ he said.
‘Aye, and keep out the chill,’ McKinly said. ‘There’s no fire in yon room, but there’s privacy.’
‘Go to bed, wife,’ Ian said gently enough, but there was no mistaking the command.
She bristled.
He must have seen because he raised a dark brow. ‘I’ve a few matters to discuss with McKinly, but I’ll be there shortly. You will not be lonely for long, that I promise.’
Heat rushed to her face. He was making it sound as if, as if … Well, as if they really were man and wife.
She got up with a smile and sent a narrowed-eyed glance his way so he would be under no misapprehension that they would indeed talk. The grin he sent back was deliciously cheeky.
The man was impossible. And incredibly handsome.
Still, he was only playing his part—besotted bridegroom—when the truth couldn’t be more different.
Ian handed her a candlestick and escorted her to the bedroom door where he raised her hand to his lips.
‘I’ll be along soon,’ he murmured, his voice offering a sensual promise. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him, or rise up on her toes and press a kiss to his smiling mouth. She whisked into the room before she did either and shut the door behind her, leaning against it.
She heard his deep chuckle before he moved away. The sound drifted around her like smoke, weakening her limbs, making her heart open with tendrils of hope.
No.
The world had turned upside down. Her heart was lying to her. Ian was a dangerous man. He thrived on adversity. All she wanted was a pleasant husband, a house in a good part of town and a comfortable life with the people she knew in the society where she belonged.
This tramping around Scotland was like Marie Antoinette pretending to be a milkmaid in the gardens of Versailles. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t her life as she had planned it.
The sooner they parted, the better it would be for her peace of mind.
Running from the keep had been madness. She could have handled her father’s anger. And she would not have buckled under any amount of badgering. After all, who could possibly believe a feather-headed society miss would ever step out of the bounds of propriety to aid smugglers?
Father might suspect the worst after Lisbon, when she ran off without her chaperon, but suspicion wasn’t proof. Clearly in hindsight, running away with Ian had been a mistake of monumental proportions.
Her only hope was to get to Alice before Father did. Hang waiting for word from Ian’s brother Niall. They had to go and go quickly, first thing in the morning. They’d wasted too much time here already.
‘That’s a right pretty bride you’ve found yourself, Laird,’ McKinly said, his deep voice carrying through the door. ‘And a good lass from what I see, but delicate. ‘Tis a shame about the limp. The Highlands is no place for the weak. You’ll need to guard her well.’
‘Aye,’ Ian said, non-committally.
A burst of anger filled her veins. Whether it was because he made no attempt to deny her weakness, or because of the lies they were telling a man who had shown them nothing but respect, she wasn’t quite sure. Either way it was only by clenching her fists that she managed not to open the door and tell them she could hear every word, thank you very much.
The voices reduced to a low rumble, probably moving on to other topics. There was no point in airing her grievances with Ian in front of one of his clan. She’d save her words for when they could be private.
She placed the candlestick on the table holding a ewer of water and a bowl and stripped out of her bodice, skirts and the breeches beneath, leaving on only her shift, washing herself quickly with the rag provided and clenching her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering as the cold water hit her skin. If Ian could wash in a cold stream out of doors, she could surely manage this, even if she was sure she could see her breath rise in front of her face.
She stripped the blanket off the bed and dumped it on the small rug, then spread her cloak over the rough linen sheet before climbing in. Shivering beneath the thin covering, a sense of disappointment filled her. McKinly was right after all. She was not hardy enough for this life.
She watched the shadows from the candle dance on the rough ceiling and tried to stop the spasms of shivers by rubbing at her arms and legs to generate warmth.
Would her life ever return to normal? There would be no marriage, of course, no home or little Dunstan children, even if her visit to Alice was taken at face value. They’d all assume she’d jilted the young lieutenant. It would be the on dit in town for weeks. A man didn’t suffer that kind of embarrassment lightly.
She’d have to start all over again, looking for the right kind of man for a husband. Strangely, the loss of Dunstan didn’t bother her as much as she might have expected. Indeed, it was as if she’d been carrying an enormous weight and someone had lifted it from her shoulders.
Perhaps Dunstan hadn’t been such a good choice after all. Perhaps she wouldn’t marry anyone. The little bit of money left to her by her mother would allow her to live in independence, if not luxury.
She’d be an outcast. Considered odd. After she’d spent all her time these past many years trying to fit in with society’s expectations, too. All her hard work destroyed in a moment of madness. A moment of fear for a man she should have ignored altogether.
The voices on the other side of the door fell silent.
The door opened, the draught making the candle gutter. She sat up.
His gaze flicked down to her chest and back up to her face, his brows climbing.
Oh, right. She was wearing nothing but her shift. Heat flooded her face. She pulled the hem of her cloak up to her chin and opened her mouth to speak.
He pressed a finger to his lips and jerked his head towards the door, obviously not wanting McKinly to overhear their words. He closed the door and stared down at the blanket on the floor and then over at her.
She could not read his expression. ‘We must talk,’ she whispered.
He strode to the bed. He looked big in the dim light. Huge. In some way, he reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. In another, of a male standing guard over his female. In either case, it was imagination playing tricks. He no doubt regretted their wild flight as much as she did.
The thought made her feel hollow.
Ian sat on the edge of the bed. The ropes creaked and her body tilted towards him as if it sought the comfort of his heat and his strength. She resisted the pull, leaning away, gripping the fabric in her hands more tightly.
‘I thought you’d be asleep by now,’ he said softly. ‘But here you are, waiting up for me.’
She gasped at the audacity of his words even as her insides melted.
He looked so beautiful, rugged, the haze of stubble darkening his jaw, his full lips curling in a half-smile that teased.
She drew in a quick steadying breath, determined to resist his allure. ‘Why on earth did you tell McKinly we were married? I thought we were going to give a false name. Tell him I was your cousin.’
‘He knows all my cousins. It was better than telling him you were my—’ He shut his mouth with a snap.
‘Your mistress?’
‘That is one word for it.’
‘He won’t be pleased when he learns who I am and that we are not married. I feel bad about lying.’
His mouth tightened. ‘We do have to talk about that.’
‘We can’t stay here. We must leave first thing in the morning. We have to reach Hawkhurst as quickly as possible.’
‘We will wait to hear from Niall.’ He touched a finger to her cheek. ‘I was proud of the way ye helped the young lass there with the meal.’
A warm glow suffused her skin. Furious at herself, at the way she responded to this man, she jerked her head away. ‘I did what anyone would do. Ian, listen, if I am to salvage anything of my reputation, I must get to Hawkhurst soon.’
His eyes turned hot. ‘Your eyes are beautiful when you are passionate.’ His low whisper strummed chords low in her belly.
