Читать книгу Regency Proposal: The Laird's Forbidden Lady / Haunted by the Earl's Touch - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 17

The next morning, they turned south. As she strode along beside him, she noticed that her leg barely ached at all. The doctors were right—walking was good for her, though they had not envisaged her tramping through the heather for days. Even so, she needed all her concentration not to trip over the clumps of heather and rocky outcroppings.

While they walked, Ian continually scanned the hills, ahead and behind, especially before they crested each hill. Each time he signalled for her to duck down, her heart rose in her throat. He was clearly intending not to be surprised as they had been the day before.

The next hill they crossed brought them to a valley so small it was more like a crevasse. A cottage snuggled against its craggy cliff. A tiny croft with a peat-covered roof neatly held down with a spiderweb of ropes weighted with boulders. Two people conversed outside the front door, an old crone and a ragged child with a basket over her arm. Rust-coloured chickens were picking about in the dirt at their feet.

‘Let’s hope Grannie has a stew pot over the fire,’ Ian said. ‘And whisky on her table.’

Selina’s stomach growled at the thought of hot food. She quickened her pace.

Ian stayed her with a touch to her arm. ‘Wait here. I’ll make sure things are what they seem.’

Whereas she would have charged in and devil take the hindmost. It was a good thing one of them had some sense. Sighing with relief at the chance to rest, she sank down on a rock and watched him stride down the hill.

Such a braw laddie he looked in the sunlight. Her heart lifted at the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his kilt revealed his strong calves and manly knees. He looked at home and very much in command.

The chickens scattered with clucks and squawks at his arrival. The old lady shielded her eyes from the sun. The girl stared up at him with awe.

The old woman beamed, obviously recognising him. She might have been welcoming the Prince Regent, so effusive was she as she gestured for him to enter, bridling like a girl in her eagerness.

The child curtsied.

The charming smile on Ian’s face would make any female bridle. He looked so handsome when he smiled. He glanced in her direction, indicating he had a companion. Once more the woman put a hand up to shield her face. In an instant, her demeanour changed. She waved her arm first in one direction, then in another. An argument seemed to ensue. Selina could hear the old woman’s raised voice, but not the words. She ended her diatribe, waving an admonishing finger in his face.

The child fled.

How very odd. Highlanders were known for their courtesy, especially to travellers, even if it was only a dram of whisky and an oatcake to see them on their way.

To her surprise, the woman disappeared inside the croft and slammed the door. The sound reverberated off the rocks and crags and faded in ever-quieter echoes.

Ian stomped back towards her. As he drew closer, she could see the glower of anger on his face and behind it worry.

She pushed herself to her feet. ‘What happened?’

His mouth flattened to a thin line. ‘The soldiers were here.’

Her heart picked up speed. ‘Looking for us?’

‘Aye. She sent them off with a flea in their ear.’

‘I thought she was going to let you in.’

‘Aye.’

‘Then she realised I was with you.’ The rejection stung.

‘I told her you were my cousin, but, given what the soldiers told her, she refused to believe it.’

‘And because I am an Albright she doesn’t feel the need to offer hospitality.’

‘Her son was transported for poaching on your father’s land.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Her son was one of the lucky ones. Tearny shoots first usually.’

Tearny was the land agent. ‘Not on my father’s orders, I can assure you.’

He shrugged. ‘Be that as it may, we have no choice but to go on.’

She glared at him. ‘If Mr Tearny is shooting people on Albright land, he will be punished.’

He cocked his head on one side. ‘All right. You will speak to your father. Let us leave it at that. We will walk many a mile before we find another house where we can request food.’

‘And no doubt they will turn us away, too.’

‘Not everyone is as bitter as Grannie.’

Hopefully not, or it would be a long hungry walk to the mail coach.

He looked off into the distance. ‘I think I will speak to Niall before we go too much farther. Find out what the soldiers are doing. I may have to go to Dunross myself.’

A feeling of panic ran down her spine. ‘You can’t leave me out here.’

‘Laird.’ The high-pitched voice came from behind them. ‘Laird.’

Ian glanced back.

Selina turned right around. It was the girl who’d been at the old lady’s door, hurrying after them, her basket held out to the side as if she feared whatever was in it would break.

‘Wait,’ Selina said to Ian, who seemed inclined to keep walking. ‘Don’t make her run.’

The girl arrived, bright-eyed and panting. Russet curls escaped from beneath the ragged shawl she had pulled over her head and her dark green eyes darted over Ian and Selina in several wide-eyed passes. Her cheeks flushed scarlet.

‘Well,’ Ian said when she didn’t speak, ‘what do you want, Marie Flora McKinly?’

‘Ian, you will scare her. Give her a chance to catch her breath.’

Still the girl didn’t speak. She curled her toes around a stem of heather, watching her foot, peeping up at Ian as if he was some sort of ogre.

Ian said something in Gaelic in a gentler tone.

The child took a deep breath and gabbled away for a minute or two.

He shook his head at the child and again spoke in Gaelic.

The child’s chin went up. Her eyes flashed.

‘What have you said?’ Selina said. ‘Why is she angry?’

Ian muttered a curse. ‘She’s offering us food at her father’s house a couple of miles from here. I don’t want to put them in danger.’

‘There’s only Da, miss,’ the child said in a lovely Scottish brogue. ‘And me and my two brothers. My Da would never forgive me if you didna’ take a dram with him, Laird. He’s been dying for some company and news for weeks. We’ve food in the larder.’

Selina looked at Ian. The child looked at Ian. The frustration on his face was evident. Not only did his people have a duty to him, not to accept an offer of hospitality would be an insult.

‘Very well. We’ll visit with your Da for an hour or two and then be on our way.’

Marie Flora gave a pleased little hop and a skip. ‘This way.’

She started up a hill that seemed steeper than all of the others they’d come across. Instead of heading south, she was going west.

Selina took one look at the miniature mountain and groaned.

‘Do you think you can make it?’ Ian murmured and took her arm to help her. ‘It might be better if we didn’t use your last name with these folks.’

‘Doesn’t she know it?’ She indicated the child.

‘Grannie McLeod guessed immediately, but didn’t speak your name. And nor did I.’

‘McLeod. I remember her, now. She used to live in the village.’

‘Aye, until a year ago when she didna’ pay her rent and was evicted. That was her son’s place. When her son was shipped off, she cursed the Albright name all seven ways to Inverness.’

She flinched. ‘I’m not surprised she was angry.’

‘She’s an evil auld woman. She cursed the factor, too,’ Ian said. ‘He came down with an enormous boil on the end of his nose the day after he barred her door.’

He was teasing her. Had to be. ‘Served him right.’

‘‘Tis no laughing matter. She cursed auld Willie McLaughlin and he died within the week.’

A year ago was when she had had her accident. The thought of the old crone’s curse being responsible sent prickles racing across her shoulders. ‘Superstitious nonsense.’ Yet she shivered.

‘Believe what you will, my lady.’

She huffed out a breath. Now he’d gone all stiff and starchy again. She glanced up ahead and saw they’d reached the top of the rise. Her aching calves and thighs were looking forward to a downhill incline.

In the valley below them, a croft sat beside a small burn, longer and lower than the one they’d just left and as small as a doll’s house. They had a good distance yet to go and Marie Flora was waving at them impatiently.

Worry consumed Ian. Its cold breath licked at his brain, at his gut, deep in his chest.

You abducted Albright’s daughter, Grannie had said, repeating what the soldiers had said. Are you mad? He’ll hang ye and anyone helping you. The old witch had shut the door in his face. A face that probably looked guilty, because while he hadn’t abducted her, he had spent the night with her in his arms. And he would have liked to do a hell of a lot more than that, after their kiss.

The force of what he had felt for this Sassenach girl was quite different to anything he’d ever experienced in his life—and he and Drew had sampled their share of females in their wild youth. Women far more experienced in tempting a man than Lady Selina. Hell, he’d even considered marriage to a warm comfortable widow he’d been seeing for years, until Selina’s letter had arrived and turned his life upside down.

Thank God, he’d had enough control not to ruin her last night.

But she was ruined. Somehow the soldiers knew Lady Selina was with him. Or they suspected it, anyway.

The only way to avoid it was to marry her. Acknowledging the truth was like taking a fist to the gut. He didn’t want to think about it.

The very idea left his head spinning. He couldn’t afford a wife, certainly not one of her calibre, a woman used to nothing but the best. And Albright’s daughter, to boot. But he was beginning to feel as if there might be no other option, just as Angus had suggested.

The cottage at the bottom of the glen drew ever closer. William McKinly was a proud, stiff-necked man. If he would take payment for their lodging instead of seeing it as charity, Ian wouldn’t feel so bad about accepting food and drink. But he wouldn’t and that was that.

Before he realised what she was about, Selina left his side and cut across the side of the hill, heading for a burn. Cursing, he followed, watching as she stood on the bank, looking down at the water. What the hell was she about now?

Did she have any idea how delicious she looked in her wild gypsy skirts, with her dark hair hanging in a tangled mane down her back? She looked like a lass well bedded, that’s what she looked like. Even if she wasn’t.

The constant arousal that he’d been dealing with since she’d kissed him of her own free will and a night spent curled around the softness of her curves, her scent filling his nostrils, hardened to rock.

He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms, kiss those lovely lips and plunge into her heat. Know her, the way a man wants to really know a woman. And if he was honest, it seemed it might be only a matter of time before he gave in to the torment of lust.

Well—apparently he’d made the decision. He could only imagine what she was going to say.

‘Don’t fall in,’ he said, reaching her side.

She gave him a mock glare. ‘I’m not that clumsy.’

She wasn’t clumsy at all. She was graceful, even with the small hesitation in her step that appeared when she was tired. Small and delicate like a wee faery. And all he could think about was getting her in his bed. And there was only one way to accomplish it. Marriage.

It seemed that the seed planted by McIver had taken root.

He watched her balance on a rock, crouch and scoop the water in her cupped palms, sipping delicately as water trickled through her fingers. A sylph who had used her magic to capture him. She shook her hands, wiped them on her skirts before jumping clear.

This was the way he’d remembered her as a girl. A free spirit wandering the hills. Sneaking out of the keep to meet him day after day until he’d been thoroughly enchanted. But she wasn’t a sprite. She was the daughter of a powerful man. His enemy. And if the man had hated his family before, this was going to make things worse.

She looked over. Caught his gaze and smiled. ‘It tastes lovely.’

Hellfire and brimstone, he’d been staring like some besotted calfling. ‘If you are done, we’ll get along or McKinly will think we are no coming at all.’

He hadn’t meant to growl, but it was better than grinning at her like an idiot.

The smile left her lips. She climbed up the shallow bank. He turned and walked down the hill, leaving her to make her way as best as she could. It was either that or take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

Tonight. He’d reveal her fate tonight, after dinner.

Marriage to a Sassenach. And an Albright to boot. What the devil would his mother say? And the clan? Damn them all, if they didn’t like it, they would have to put up with it. He was their Laird. They would abide by his decision.

Marie Flora and her father were waiting at the croft door, where the heather had been beaten back by soft springy grass. A small vegetable patch behind the cottage was bare of all but a few turnips.

‘McKinly,’ he said, holding out his hand as he neared the man’s threshold. For once, Selina hung back. Afraid of her reception, no doubt.

‘Laird,’ McKinly said. His hair was copper-coloured. Darker than his daughter’s and shot through with silver. The man was stooped and weathered and could have been anywhere from forty to sixty years old, but Ian knew him to be in his late thirties. Crofting in the Highlands aged a man early.

‘Are you well?’ he asked.

‘Aye. Come in. Come in. Take a dram with me. The lass says you’re in need of sustenance.’ His gaze went to Selina, curiosity shining in his blue eyes.

‘Aye, if you can spare it. My wife here is bone weary.’

Wife. The moment he saw McKinly’s measuring stare he realised there was no honourable alternative. Having said it, he had a sense of accomplishment. She’d got herself into this mess trying to help him for friendship’s sake, or out of some misguided sense of obligation, and a Gilvry always paid his debts. They didn’t ruin innocent females, either.