Читать книгу Her Highland Protector - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 8

Heart pounding in her ears, Lady Jenna Aleyne gazed at the three shabby ruffians blocking the road and cursed her ill luck. The horse picking up a stone in its hoof the moment she was out of sight of the castle had been bad enough, but three men intent on mischief looked like a disaster in the making.

On a normal day, she would have been accompanied by a groom, but this morning she’d heard through one of the local lads that a tinker in the market carried news of Braemuir, if she was interested.

When Lord Carrick, her trustee, had insisted she leave the running of her family estate to him, it had made sense to the terrified fourteen-year-old orphan she had become so suddenly. But she had missed her home, all these years. Had longed for the day she would return to her people and take up her duties as she had promised her father.

The thought of recent news of Braemuir and its people had pulled irresistibly. Yet she was loath to mention it to her cousin, as she did not trust him to let her go.

So she had slipped out alone.

She offered the men a smile. ‘What clan are you?’ she asked in her rather rusty Gaelic, wishing she’d made the effort to practise more in her years of absence in England. ‘There’ll be a welcome for you at the castle, if it is food and drink you are needing.’

‘Bloody heathen language,’ the smaller of the three said. ‘Can’t anyone in this godforsaken place speak English?’ He looked towards their leader. ‘You are sure this is the one?’ He moved closer with an oddly rolling gait and a hard glint in his eyes.

Not Highlanders, then. English sailors. Her mouth dried. Her heart thudded a signal to run. She wouldn’t get twenty yards. Better to face them than turn her back. ‘I’m headed for Carrick Castle and I am late,’ she said in English. ‘I shouldn’t wonder if they havenae sent out a search party, so no need for me to keep you from your journey.’

Unimpressed by her implied threat, they moved in on her, spreading out, clearly intending to flank her like cowards.

A pistol would impress them, but hers was in its holster on the opposite side of the horse. These were desperate times in the Highlands, and while honour and hospitality ran deep among Highlanders, these Englishmen would have found little welcome. She winced. That probably accounted for their half-starved appearance and hard expressions.

The pistol was her best chance. Hands shaking, she passed the reins behind her back, jerking to make the animal shift side-on as if it was restless. ‘Stupid beast,’ she said. ‘Picked up a stone.’

The animal half turned, tossing its head, favouring its forefoot. Just a little closer … Just an inch or two and she would be able to reach. The horse balked. She took a deep steadying breath. She needed a distraction, a way of taking their minds from what she was doing. But what?

A tuneless but cheerful whistling came from the direction of town behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and her stomach dipped. Another man, his walking stick swinging, his loose-limbed long-legged stride eating the distance between them. Heaven help her, was this another of these rogues? Her heart pounded harder.

The villainous fellow directly in front of her pulled a cudgel from his belt. The other two men followed suit. They were closer now and their expressions were grim, purposeful. She backed up against her horse, swallowing to alleviate the dryness in her mouth, while this new man kept walking towards her, his whistle never faltering. He looked nothing like the footpads circling around her from the front. Plainly dressed, yes, and a square jaw roughened by two days’ growth of dark beard gave him a menacing appearance, but he also had an honest, open look in his expression that gave her hope. As he drew abreast of her she noticed a gleam of anger in his narrowed eyes. ‘Three against one, is it, lads?’ he said grimly, speaking English with a Highland burr.

Friend, she decided, trusting her instincts. But they were still two against three. She needed her pistol.

‘Charlie!’ she cried, throwing one arm about his neck and pressing her lips to his mouth, reaching out with her other hand to fumble for her weapon.

For a second the young man stood frozen, his parted lips shockingly intimate. Tingles raced from her lips to her breasts at the feel of his hot breath on her mouth, accompanied by the scent of wood smoke, heather and man.

So shocking and … and delightful all at once. Her eyelids drifted closed, the better to savour the sensations. The second lengthened to two as his lips melded to hers and a large warm hand cupped her bottom and drew her close. His tongue stroked the seam of her lips. The shock of feeling him, hard-muscled and demanding as he pressed against her, and the velvety warmth against her lips made her gasp. His tongue slipped into her mouth and explored gently and teasingly. Little thrills darted through her body like hot licks of flame. Delicious. Terrifying.

It was only the weight of the pistol as it began to slip from her grasp that brought her back to her senses. A hard tug freed it from the saddle holster. She stepped away, cocking her weapon and pointing it first at him and then the other three, who were staring at them, mouths agape.

The newcomer flashed her a breathtakingly wicked grin and, ignoring her pistol, he squared off to the three men. ‘The odds are about even, I would say.’

‘Bloody hell,’ the smallest of the ruffians said.

She’d been right. The newcomer was not with them. She lined up beside him and levelled her gun.

‘Gentlemen,’ the man she’d kissed said with quiet confidence, ‘you’ll be letting this lady be on her way, now.’ He swept his walking stick in a wide arc. ‘The first one of you to step any closer than this gets his knees broken.’

She waggled her pistol, just in case they hadn’t noticed. ‘And the second one gets a bullet in the heart.’

The young man sent her a sideways glance, but kept his attention focused on their attackers. ‘All right, my fine lads. Who wants to be first?’

The leader of the footpads gave his companions a desperate glare. ‘There’s only two of them.’ His fellows stood frozen, staring at her pistol. She aimed it at their leader’s head. ‘You first, I think.’

He raised his hands from his sides. ‘We need some coin is all,’ he whined. ‘For a bed for the night.’

‘Ye’ll make a bed in the heather like the rest of us,’ the young Scot at her side growled. ‘Oh, come on, man. Let me have at you. I haven’t broken a head in days.’

The smaller of the men looked at his friends. ‘Bugger that. She’s got a pistol.’ He tucked his cudgel back in his belt. The man to his left followed suit. Their leader glared at them. ‘Curse you, you lily-livered sons of bitches.’ He charged.

The Scot lunged for him. Unable to shoot, for fear of hitting her rescuer, Jenna kept her pistol moving back and forth between the leader’s companions. In seconds it was over. The assailant caught a heavy blow on the shoulder. He screamed in pain, his arm dropping limp at his side. Moments later, all three of them were hotfooting it between the rough clumps of gorse and making for a distant line of trees. They were out of sight before Jenna finished counting to three.

She sagged against the side of her mare, who whinnied softly.

‘Such cowards,’ the young man said in disgust. He took her pistol from her slack grip. He stared at it for a moment, released the cock and shoved it back in the holster. ‘You are taking a chance riding out with nothing but that for protection,’ he said in dry disapproving tones. ‘You might have brought one down, if you were lucky. It is no match for three.’

Her back stiffened at his obvious dismissal of her ability to look after herself. ‘I have travelled this road scores of times without the slightest problem.’

‘Alone?’ he questioned, and she felt her face heat.

‘Occasionally.’ She knew she sounded a little too defiant, but who was he to question what she did? In truth, she’d been so anxious for news she’d given no thought to the danger. Not that she’d ever heard of footpads on this road before. Not so near to the castle. ‘I would have been fine if my horse had not picked up a stone in her hoof.’

The look in his green-flecked brown eyes said he didn’t believe it.

Infuriating man. The fact that he was right only made her feel more angry. At herself. She was lucky he had come to her rescue. But it galled her to say so. ‘I thank you, sir, for your help. I do not believe I have seen you in these parts before.’

His frown deepened. ‘Niall Gilvry, at your service.’ He gestured to the horse. ‘Which hoof?’

‘Right front.’

He bent and lifted the horse’s leg. ‘Ah. Do you have a pick?’

She handed him the one still clenched in her fist. ‘It’s stuck fast, poor beastie.’

Gilvry gave a quick twist and the stone flicked out on to the road. He gently probed, looking for more debris. ‘You’ll have to walk, I’m thinking. It will be a while before she heals.’

He really must think her hen-witted if he thought she would ride the poor creature after it had suffered so, but what was the point of trying to disabuse him of the notion. She would likely never see him again. And when she recalled the thrills his kiss had sent racing through her body, it was probably just as well. ‘If you think it best to walk, I shall certainly do so.’

He gathered her mount’s reins. ‘I will walk with you,’ he said, without waiting for her agreement, ‘in case yon fellows change their minds.’

She shuddered at the thought. Although, truth be told, his scowl—black brows drawn down across the bridge of a hawkish nose—was almost as frightening as the ruffians. Some woman might consider such rugged unshaven features handsome, but his height accompanied by his grim expression felt more than a little overpowering. Only his sculpted lips offered any hint of softness. A shiver trickled down her spine as her lips tingled with the memory of the feel of his mouth against her own.

It wasn’t her first kiss. She’d encountered the odd amorous young gentleman who had caught her in a youthful game of blind man’s buff. Awkward mashings of lips against teeth. Nothing so hot and so dark as his mouth had felt. None of them had set her ablaze, or made her forget what she was doing. Not for an instant.

Kissing him had been madness—now she had time to think. The very idea made her turn hot and cold by turns. But it was the only distraction that had come to her mind. Rushing in where angels feared to tread, her father had been wont to call such reckless actions. Embarrassing to boot.

‘Lead on, then,’ she said briskly. She had no wish to tarry because she had been telling the truth when she said a search party might be on its way. The folk at the castle might have missed the horse by now, though it was used so often by all and sundry they might not have, so long as Mrs Preston hadn’t noticed her absence.

And now she would have to think of another excuse to go to the market. As they walked along side by side, she glanced at her rescuer from the corner of her eye. Tall and lean, he towered over her. This one had risked his life to protect her like a perfect Highland gentleman. A poor one, judging by his clothes. Not the sort of man she should be kissing no matter how good it felt.

Heat rose into her face at such wanton thoughts. She prayed he wouldn’t notice.

‘Where is your home?’ he asked.

His voice made her jump guiltily. ‘Carrick Castle. Lord Carrick is my guardian.’

A thunderstruck expression passed over his face. Or perhaps it was horror. She could not be sure, for his face quickly became a blank mask.

‘Is there some problem with where I live?’ she asked stiffly.

‘I wonder at his lordship, then, letting you ride out without a groom.’

So would Lord Carrick.

‘Or kissing strangers,’ he added, and for an instant she thought there was a wicked gleam in the depths of his gaze. A challenge, like the one he had issued to the footpads. It faded too fast to be sure and his expression returned to its forbidding lines.

Had he really been so averse to her kiss? She was sure she had felt his breathing quicken against her skin in those few seconds of contact. ‘I only did it as a distraction to get to my pistol,’ she said, feeling the need to make it clear she was not completely wanton.

‘I wouldn’t advise such a method in future,’ he said drily.

Because she was a poor kisser, no doubt. She really did not have much experience. Warmth suffused her body and crawled up her cheeks and she wished he would just go away so she could suffer her embarrassment alone. ‘I will keep your advice in mind.’

He gave her a look of disapproval.

Drat the man. Who did he think he was to judge her? She gave him a haughty stare. ‘I don’t see how it is any of your business.’

It ought to be someone’s business, Niall thought grimly. He still could not believe that the woman at his side—a lady from her dress, and an extraordinarily lovely one at that—was roaming the roads alone. All right, so his brother’s wife, Lady Selina, hadn’t been any less foolhardy. But she, too, could have been killed.

And that kiss. He still felt hot under the collar and elsewhere since she’d pressed her lips to his. Oh, he’d had better kisses from more experienced ladies, but none sweeter. And none that had left him so instantly mindless that he’d responded with such enthusiasm.

They were lucky he’d been able to turn and face those damned Sassenach criminals after she’d pressed her innocent body against him, because he hadn’t wanted to let her go. And now he learned she was the ward of the man whose employ he was about to enter. A woman so far above him she should be ashamed to be seen in his company if she had even a wee bit of sense.

The sooner he stopped thinking about that kiss the better or he’d be out on his ear before he could turn around. He’d been lucky to get this position. Lucky to find any kind of paid employment here in the Highlands.

As Carrick’s distant relative and a member of a sept that owed him its loyalty, his application had been accepted without question. Which didn’t mean he would get to keep it, if Carrick wasn’t pleased.

It was bad enough that Ian had asked him to secretly seek out information about Carrick’s erstwhile steward Tearny, who had almost killed Ian’s wife and had died by Ian’s hand, without him getting tangled up with his employer’s ward. If he wasn’t careful he’d find himself scuttling back to Dunross with his tail between his legs and no chance for advancement. Or income. Back relying on his brother for his food and lodging.

His shoulders tightened at the thought.

Oh, he’d always made himself useful to Ian and the clan, taken on any task required of him, because it was his duty as brother to the laird. And he’d enjoyed teaching the clan’s children at the tiny school in Dunross village. But if he faced the truth, it was hardly a challenge. And as Molly’s father had been quick to point out when Niall had invited her to walk out with him, a man with no income or property was hardly a good prospect for a husband.

A blow to his pride, to be sure.

Even if his formal schooling had been cut short owing to lack of money after his father died, he had plenty of book learning. It was time to put his brain to work, for his own sake and for the good of his clan. Here at Carrick Castle, he hoped to earn enough to permit him to go to Edinburgh and find a lawyer willing to take him on as a junior.

Meeting this young lady was hardly a propitious start to his new career. Not if she told Carrick about that kiss. He half-wished he had never set eyes on the lass. Not true. He did not like to think of what might have happened to her had he not come along at that moment.

He glanced sideways at her, looking down at the crown of a black hat fashioned like a man’s curly-brimmed beaver with a bit of net tacked on. He couldn’t quite believe how tiny she was. Her spirit facing those footpads had made him think her much taller, but in reality her head barely came up to his shoulder. How she had managed to kiss him he wasn’t quite sure.

Oh, but he must have lent his aid to accomplish that bit of stupidity. Indeed, if he thought about it, his arm had gone around her to bring her closer. Instinct. Natural reflex.

The girl was, after all, devilishly attractive in a pixyish sort of way.

Her eyes were as green as mossy banks, changing to the mysterious green of winter forests with her mood. A bewitching face with creamy skin framed by unruly tendrils of auburn curls.

No one would call her pretty, but he found her fascinating. She reminded him of drawings of wee fairies in children’s books. A haughty wee fairy. One that would turn you into a toad on a whim.

And she’d faced those ruffians without flinching. Extraordinary and worrisome. It spoke of a recklessness he had learned to abhor.

As they walked side by side, he tried not to notice the way her habit clung to the sweet soft curves of her slender figure. Curves that had plastered themselves against his body minutes before. A body that had responded with a will to her soft swells and gentle valleys.

His blood warmed again. He had the urge to float his hands over those curves, to savour again the taste of her full bottom lip …

No. This was his employer’s ward. A lady to be treated with respect despite her surprising behaviour.

‘And where are you going, Mr Gilvry?’ she asked in her clear soft voice.

He had the feeling she wasn’t going to like his answer. ‘Carrick Castle. I am to start my employment there.’

‘Not Mr McDougall’s new under-secretary?’ she said in a sort of wail.

He’d been right. She didn’t like it one bit. ‘Indeed.’

‘I expected someone older. More—’

More what? Better dressed? He’d worn comfortable clothes for travelling first by boat and then on foot. He could imagine the sort of dandified gentlemen she was used to. ‘I am sorry if I disappoint.’

She gave him a look askance that he could not interpret. Annoyance, probably, because he did not have a silver tongue like his brothers. He always said what came into his head.

He kicked at a pebble. By all accounts, where females were concerned, honesty was not the best policy.

The silence had been going on for some time now, he realised. She was looking at him expectantly. No doubt waiting for him to say something witty or charming.

It wasn’t his style. He’d always felt completely left-footed with teasing and quick repartee. Too much theory and not enough practice, Logan, his youngest brother, always jibed.

The only time he’d ever tried anything of the sort had been at school in Inverness when he’d fallen hard for the headmaster’s daughter. She’d been horrified at the temerity of a lowly third son even daring an approach. He’d never again wanted to go through such a mortifying experience.

Hence his rather cold-blooded courting of Molly. He’d been surprised at the relief he’d felt when her father suggested he look elsewhere.

The woman at his side was still looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

‘It is a fine day for a ride,’ he said finally.

‘Except for the brigands,’ she said, tilting her head and affording him a full view of her face and the teasing curve to her lips.

A smile he answered with one of his own. ‘And the fact that your horse went lame.’

‘And the chill in the wind from the north,’ she added, her smile broadening.

‘And the dust.’

‘In fact, not a good day for riding at all,’ she finished.

He bowed slightly. ‘I stand corrected.’

She chuckled, a sweet soft sound that made his heart lurch as if it had stopped to listen. Inwardly, he shook his head at his odd imaginings. They were most unlike him.

They rounded a bend in the road, the castle, its towers and turrets, reflected in the loch at the foot of its walls. Damn. He’d forgotten just how tall those towers were. He hoped to God his duties didn’t take him to the top.

‘Carrick Castle,’ she announced.

‘I see it.’ Of course he saw it. It was huge. ‘I have been here before.’

Another of those quick glances up at his face and he noticed that her dark lashes were tipped with gold.

‘Not since I arrived last winter,’ she said. ‘I would have remembered.’

Now what did she mean by that? ‘I was last here more than a year ago.’

She stopped and faced him.

As he stared into those clear green eyes fringed with sooty lashes, his chest tightened with painful longing. The kind he’d experienced as a lad when he realised he would never be like his brothers—dashing like Drew, or devil-may-care like Logan. Always analytical, he was the kind to look before he leaped into danger. To weigh the odds, while Logan scoffed at his words of caution. Ian simply made use of his knowledge as it suited him.

And now he wanted what? To cut a daring figure to this lovely young woman? Wouldn’t that be hypocritical?

‘I’d be obliged if you would not say anything to Lord Carrick about what happened today,’ she said.

About the kiss. And a delicious kiss it had been, too. One he would not mind repeating, if she hadn’t been under his employer’s care. ‘I’d be a fool to talk about it, now, wouldn’t I?’

She gave him a blank look, then coloured. She caught her full bottom lip with perfect, tiny white teeth and he almost groaned out loud as his body tightened. A completely unacceptable reaction. He shuttered his expression.

‘I meant the footpads,’ she explained.

Oh, now he saw the trap. She planned to involve him in some web of deceit. ‘I see,’ he said, feeling unaccountably disappointed.

It must have shown in his face because she rushed on. ‘You were right. I should not have gone without a groom. Naturally, I will not do so again.’

That did not explain why she had done it this time. What in the devil’s name was she up to? Was she carrying on some sort of clandestine relationship? He would not put it past a female who would hold three men at bay with a pistol. This was not water he wanted to swim in. He started to shake his head.

She put a light hand on his arm. Her touch seemed to sear right through the wool of his coat to his skin. ‘Please.’

Once more he stared into those green eyes and had the feeling he might drown in their depths. His gaze dropped to her mouth. His body tightened with the anticipation of kissing her again.

‘Promise me, Mr Gilvry,’ she said, tightening her grip on his sleeve. ‘Please. It was a mistake I won’t repeat.’

The touch burned, but it was the pleading in her eyes that made him feel weak. And then there was that kiss. Something he should not have allowed. Something she could have easily held over his head, yet had not. ‘Verra well,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll say nothing, provided you keep your promise.’ Damn it all, he sounded like a stuffy older brother. Or a schoolteacher. Which he was, but not hers, for which he should be very thankful.

‘And there is no need to mention I was on my way to town when we met.’

He huffed out a breath and nodded. In for a penny, in for a pound, as it were. ‘All right.’

Her face lit with a smile that left him breathless. ‘Thank you. For everything.’ She danced away.

The girl was a witch. There was no other word for a woman who could twist him around her finger with such ease. He would not let it happen again. His future here was at stake.

He followed her under a stone arch ruptured by the teeth of an ancient portcullis overhead and into the courtyard. He looked about him. The castle wasn’t large by Edinburgh or Inverness standards, but it had served its owners well over the centuries. Its granite tower looked out over the harbour and the town it guarded. A curtain wall encompassed several outbuildings added over the years.

A stable lad took the horse’s reins from his hand.

‘Careful,’ she said looking over her shoulder. ‘He’s quite lame.’

The lad touched his forelock. ‘Yes, my lady.’ He looked enquiringly at Niall.

‘Niall Gilvry,’ he said.

‘You are expected,’ the boy said. ‘You’ll find Mr McDougall in there.’ He jerked a thumb at one of the buildings on the far side the courtyard and walked off, leaving him to find his own way.

Niall turned to bid the Lady Jenna farewell, but she was already mounting the steps to the main entrance on the first floor. She didn’t spare him a backwards glance. She’d extracted a promise and now he didn’t exist. Good thing, too. So why this sense of loss when she was the most irritatingly reckless and undoubtedly manipulative female he’d ever met?

Cursing himself for a fool, he went in search of McDougall.

His assigned room was at the base of the tower, for which he was heartily grateful, and while it had no window, it was near the side door into the courtyard where his office was located. There was little he could do to settle in, since his baggage would come up from the town by cart, so he was glad when he was summoned to meet with Lord Carrick. He headed up one flight of stairs to his new employer’s study and knocked on the ancient arched door bound in iron.

‘Enter.’

A man of around fifty-five, Carrick was still in his prime apart from a little extra fat under his chin and on his belly. The man had a pleasant hail-fellow-well-met look about him, until you looked into his pewter-coloured eyes. They had the power to strip a weaker man’s inner thoughts bare.

Niall met his gaze steadily. ‘You sent for me, Lord Carrick.’

His lordship lowered his brow. ‘Ah, Gilvry. Niall, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Niall kept his expression neutrally respectful.

‘Sit down.’ The older man leaned forwards in his chair. ‘I understand you met my ward on the road today?’

So much for keeping it a secret. He’d known it wouldn’t work. ‘Yes, sir, I did.’

‘And dealt handily with a pack of ruffians, too. You have my thanks.’

How did he know all this? ‘The roads can be dangerous, sir, but Lady Jenna swore she would not go out again without an escort.’ Now why was he trying to defend her?

Carrick sat up, his eyes sharpening with interest. ‘Did she now? And how did you extract that promise?’

By making one of his own, which was clearly futile. He winced. ‘I pointed out the error of her ways.’

Damnation, that sounded pompous, even if true.

‘And here I’ve been thinking a good switching would do her some good.’

Niall’s shoulders tightened at the thought of anyone laying a hand on the girl. He concentrated on not clenching his fists.

‘Is that how you keep order with your students?’ Carrick continued. ‘Appealing to their reason?’

‘In part, my lord. Occasionally I resort to the removal of privileges.’

Carrick’s face brightened. ‘An interesting idea.’ He drummed the fingers of one hand on the desk, his face in a frown as if pondering a difficult decision.

Niall waited, holding his impatience in check.

The drumming stopped and the hand clasped the one beside it. ‘I’m called away to London on urgent business.’

Niall’s stomach dipped. Would he then have no need of extra help? He stood silent, waiting for the axe to fall, wondering where he would go next. He certainly would not return to Dunross. Perhaps he’d find work in Edinburgh while he looked for a lawyer willing to take him on.

‘I need someone to stand in my place during my absence. You seem like the man for the job.’

Niall felt his jaw drop. Carrick was jesting. Had to be. ‘My lord—’

Carrick put up a hand. ‘With Lady Jenna. She needs a firm hand. Someone to keep a close eye on her.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘With my wife at my daughter’s lying-in, there is no one else I can ask.’

He swallowed. ‘I’m not sure I have the right qualifications for such a role, my lord. Lady Jenna is no schoolgirl.’

Carrick raised a hand. ‘No, she’s not. But as my closest relative presently on hand, you will do as well as anyone.’ His last words stung. It was the same thing Ian had said about him being the teacher at the school.

‘Relative is too strong a word, my lord.’

‘Then you will do it because your chief commands it.’

And that was that. ‘As you wish.’ He winced at how grudging he sounded, but he had a strong feeling that Lady Jenna was not going to like this any better than he did.

Carrick rose and went for the bell. A footman appeared within moments. ‘Fetch Lady Jenna,’ Carrick said.

The footman disappeared.

‘I’ll grant you it is not ideal,’ Carrick said, looking at Niall from under his brows. ‘But her companion, Mrs Preston, is as useful as a knife with no blade. Gilvry, if you managed to get the Lady Jenna to agree to anything, you have my undying admiration. She is a determined young lady, as you will discover.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And you’ll not let me down or your brother can go hang next time he needs cargo space in one of my ships.’

Niall stiffened at the threat, but kept his face impassive. Carrick didn’t really know him. But as Ian would attest, having taken on a task, he saw it through to the end. Which was part of why he’d stayed so long as teacher at the school.

The door opened. ‘Cousin. You asked for me?’

Lady Jenna. Niall rose to his feet, turning to face her. His heart stilled. She looked more ethereal than she had on the road. Or was it the way the sunlight drifted through the window and set flames dancing in her hair that stole his breath? Or the way the emerald gown clung to her figure and skimmed the tops of her breasts? Or simply a case of unrequited lust? Ah, definitely not a thought he should be having when he was about to stand in loco parentis to the young woman. That really would betray Carrick’s trust.

Her eyes widened as she took him in. She swallowed and looked at Lord Carrick, who had half risen and then sunk back down into his seat. ‘I apologise. I did not realise you had company.’

‘Lady Jenna,’ Carrick said heartily—too heartily. ‘I know you had the good fortune to meet Mr Gilvry on the road today. A fortunate occurrence for you, I understand. Since I must travel on business, he will stand in my place as your guardian during my absence. You will defer to his decisions as you would to mine.’

‘What?’ She stared at Niall in surprise before turning her gaze to Carrick. ‘How can this be?’

Carrick frowned. ‘He is a cousin on my mother’s side. There is no one else.’

Her expression shuttered. She lifted her chin with a smile that chilled. ‘I see you have made yourself indispensable already, Mr Gilvry. You are to be congratulated.’

The words had the ring of a compliment, but in truth he knew them to be an accusation. She assumed he had broken his promise to further his own ends. Anything he might say would likely only make things worse. So he did the only thing possible. He bowed as if he took her words at face value and had the doubtful pleasure of seeing hauteur in her expression and a healthy dose of dislike.

As if dismissing him from her thoughts, she turned to Carrick with a bright smile. ‘I had no idea you were planning a journey, Cousin.’

Carrick raised a brow as if to ask why she should be privy to his plans. ‘Since Mrs Preston is apparently indisposed at the moment, would you please make the necessary arrangements for Mr Gilvry to join us at dinner?’ He glanced at Niall. ‘The family dines at five. It will be an opportunity for us to become better acquainted before I leave. That will be all, Jenna.’

She stiffened at the dismissal, then dipped a curtsy. ‘As you wish, my lord.’ But the glance she shot at Niall from beneath her lowered lashes before she left in a soft swirl of fabric and light pattering steps was a far cry from the friendly glances she’d given him earlier. He felt the loss as the soft scent of something spicy lingered in the air. Complex, like her. All bright sharp edges underpinned by subtle femininity.

He didn’t want the job of guardian. It was not what he had been offered. He had been hoping to learn things that would stand him and his family in good stead for the future. Matters of business. And perhaps even of the law. Things that might set his feet on the path to a better future.

‘How did you hear of my meeting with Lady Jenna?’ he asked.

‘One of the lasses hired in from the town was on her way home when she saw a fight on the road and raised the alarm. By the time the message reached me, the pair of you were at the gate.’ He gestured to the window. ‘I watched ye come through.’

The muscles in his shoulders tightened. He eyed his chief warily. What else had the girl seen? Not their kiss, apparently, or Carrick would not be looking so calm. At least that he would keep to himself for both their sakes. ‘What happens with regard to the position of under-secretary? Does Mr McDougall not require my services?’

It was McDougall, Carrick’s secretary, he’d originally been employed to assist.

Carrick rubbed his hands together. ‘I am sure Lady Jenna will take little time away from your other duties.’

Niall wasn’t so sure about that, but he could see he’d been well and truly snared. Two duties for the price of one, when nursemaid to a wilful lass ought to be paid double. Rumour did not lie. Carrick was known to be a man who would not spend a shilling where he could make a bargain for a sixpence. He bowed his assent, as if he had a choice.

Carrick dismissed him with a flick of his fingers. ‘I will see you at dinner, then. That is all.’