“When Natalie first got here, she was the one to first discover the truth of our Scottish past while doing her research on the family. Mother and Father like to hide it away, but I’m tired of the lies. Whatever is going on with our families I think should be water under the bridge. It’s been how long since our great, great, great ancestors had a tiff? It should be time we can both move on. Don’t you think?”
Finally, he turned toward me. His cold stare was locked right on me as if he could will the words straight from my mouth.
A tiff?
A fucking tiff was what he wanted to call it?
This whole manor was a damn gift to his family so his great-great-great-grandmother could stay a lady.
If I could just spit that out. Demand it back.
But no. This arrogant son of a bitch would probably just throw me out on my arse.
I had to find proof. Somewhere in this manor.
“You think the two of us can just forget a century of our families hating each other?” I asked bluntly, the only words I could form.
He scoffed. “You make it seem like we’re the Capulets and the Montagues.”
“If the Capulets and Montagues were related,” I muttered into my glass before taking a big gulp of my drink.
At least my cousin was good for one thing and could pick out a decent cask.
He nodded, swirling the liquid in his own glass. “While you’re here, you’re still a guest at Webley. The guest of my future sister-in-law. If you can at least put your hatred aside for me and my family until after the wedding, I’d appreciate it.”
“I don’t…” My words trailed as I tried to think of the right words.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I let out a deep breath before slumping in the chair behind me. I worked out multiple times a week, but all of this with my estranged family was more exhausting than a few hundred burpees.
Gavin took the seat across from me, setting his glass down on the table before he brought his hands to his lap. “I may not have ever talked to you or any of my Scottish relatives, but I understand that years of bad blood between us cannot be solved just by me extending the olive branch of a wedding invitation.”
“Finally, you said something that fucking makes sense.”
He nodded again, his jaw clenching slightly. “I don’t know if there’s another reason you’re here, Jacob, but I can only assume there’s more than what you’re telling me. Is my great-uncle okay?”
I swallowed hard, my fingers tapping on my glass. “No. He’s not.”
“Is that why you’re here instead of him?”
I took a long sip of my drink, staring out at the lawn instead of the man next to me. If there was any time to be honest about something, it was now. “Great-Grandfather hasn’t had a good last few years and has recently been bedridden. We don’t know how much time he has left, but before our last mass, he handed me the invitation and asked if I’d come here for him.”
It hadn’t been as simple as my hurried words let it out to be.
I could still picture the once larger-than-life man lying in his bed, his graying beard scraggly, framing his sunken face. He’d asked everyone else to leave the room, saying he wanted to speak to just me. Then he’d pulled the fancy filigree envelope from under his pillow and told me what it was.
I hadn’t understood at first.
Until our eyes met and he told me, straight out, that he didn’t want to die in vain. That the Webleys needed to know who the rightful heir was. That we shouldn’t suffer in silence anymore.
Great-Grandfather was waiting for me to come back. To tell him that everything was somehow magically fixed because I’d found some royal decree straight from the Queen herself stating we were owed something, and the MacWebleys would be fine if he left this earth.
I didn’t know how much time he had, and the wedding was a week away. I had to hurry up and do something before these two married. Otherwise, the manor would be lost forever to the family.
Squinting, I peered out into the yard. Gavin had started to talk, but my attention was focused on a long line of white moving in the distance.
“Do you have sheep on the property?” I asked, interrupting whatever he was babbling on about.
“I beg your pardon?”
I pointed my free hand toward where the marching army of white strode down a small hill.
He followed my gaze and laughed. “Oh, those are the dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“Yes, we have a few Great Pyrs and about a year ago now, we took in some local shelter dogs. We have a temperature-controlled barn on the property and caretakers for each of them.”
As if the dogs knew he was talking about them, they crested the hill, and large tufts of white came into view, along with a few black and brown mutts. They all seemed to march as if they were soldiers on their way to battle.
“Would you like to meet them?” Gavin asked, standing up and buttoning his suit coat.
“Sure,” I agreed, finishing my drink, setting the glass down carefully on the table before I stood next to him.
As soon as we stepped off the veranda, a black dog with a wide face that looked almost like a miniature hippo broke the marching stride and bounded toward us.
“Ponce,” Gavin said with a laugh, and it was the first time I saw the hint of any kind of smile on my cousin’s face. He crouched down, even in his expensive suit, running his hands over the dog’s fur and scratching behind his ears.
The other dogs sat behind him, expectantly.
Gavin looked up at me, keeping his hands focused on scratching the dog. “They won’t come forward until you call them, but let me tell you, they’re waiting patiently for a good belly rub.”
Each dog stood in a straight line with their paws forward, their big beady eyes unblinking as they tilted their head. There were maybe about a dozen or so, the Pyrenees standing out with their large white coats. But the mutts next to them seemed to be as equally as regal with their varying shades of coats all blown out and shiny.
“Okay, call one for me,” I said, careful to crouch down slowly so I didn’t muddy my trousers. Unlike my cousin, this was one of the few suits I owned. I was sure they had a launder at the manor, but I didn’t want them to see how little I had.
“Koda, come.”
A large white dog with a trim coat trotted up to Gavin, taking a seat in front of him, so straight and proper, it really was as if he was part of the royal guard.
“Good boy.” Gavin scratched behind his ears then nodded to me. “Go on, now you call him.”
“Koda, come,” I called, putting my hand out flat like my mother used to tell me to do to the hunting dogs.
The dog happily trotted toward me and sat in the grass.
I ran my fingers through his fur, and they seemed to slip through like silk. His coat was warm to the touch and smelled like fresh-cut grass after the rain. There was something hypnotic about running my palms up and down the dog’s muscular back. I almost wanted to close my eyes and forget about everything else going on around me.
Almost.
“I think he likes you.”
I looked down at the dog with his eyes at half mast, slightly panting. “Yeah?”
“Koda is one of our studs, as Great-Aunt Sarah used to say. He has sired a lot of litters in his ten years. But I never thought of him as a boastful dog. He’s always been completely comfortable with everyone.”
My stiff cousin was a different person as he alternated his hands between scratching behind Ponce’s ears and then Koda’s. His voice and face had softened, and it was as if he finally let all the tension in his body go.
“Great-Aunt Sarah seems like she was one hell of a woman, the way everyone talks about her.”
There went the tick in his jaw again. “She really was. She’s the one who made sure all the dogs
were taken care of. That the town of Webley and the manor prospered. She never married, but I think it’s because she was in a relationship with making sure everything and everyone was taken care of.”
“That’s how Great-Grandfather is. His wife passed away very young, when their son, my grandfather, was still an infant. He never married again after her but made sure Grandfather was always provided for.” He’d also made sure I didn’t want for much after I failed uni and returned home with nothing.
I focused on scratching behind Koda’s ears, trying not to get lost in the story.
Great-Grandmother’s death had been the beginning of the end of the MacWebleys. Great-Grandfather had gone into a deep depression, just like his father had when the Webley and MacWebley split occurred. Both times, the family had reached out to the Webleys but had never heard a peep. So the manor in Scotland and all things MacWebley had fallen into disrepair.
“I bet he would have gotten along well with Great-Aunt Sarah,” Gavin said. “Well, I assume they would.”
I smiled, despite the way my chest tightened as the conversation went on. “That’s how Great-Grandfather is. I swore we could never go anywhere in town without him talking to every single person we passed. I remember spending afternoons with him as a child and barely able to go a city block without talking to everyone, from the bread seller and solicitors to even beggars on the street.”
Gavin laughed, and his smile was so wide that I found my own stretching across my face in return. “Sounds just like Great-Aunt Sarah.”
“I wish they could have met,” I said honestly. “Great-Grandfather would probably love this whole place.”
“You should bring him here after the wedding.”
I paused, the squeezing in my chest now like a vice grip. We didn’t know how long Great-Grandfather had, but it wasn’t long. That’s why it was important to get everything settled here.
But after spending time with the dogs and seeing my cousin smile as he talked about his great-aunt, there was a nagging feeling that had brewed in the back of my brain. What if I didn’t need to find the documents or anything that said I was the rightful heir? What would happen if I just asked my cousin, man to man, for help in MacWebley?
Then my da’s voice wiggled to the forefront.
The MacWebleys are a family of pride. We don’t do charity.
I had to figure this out.
To save my legacy and restore my name with the family in a way that no one would get hurt. Not their pride, and not Madison.
“Yes, perhaps I will see if he’s well enough,” I said quickly.
“We can make whatever accommodations needed.” He had a slight smirk on his lips. “And if you’re dating my future sister-in-law, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of you around here anyway.”
I sensed all the color drain from my face.
Of course the man knew it was all a farce, but he wasn’t going to come right out and say that.
“She’s a good friend,” I said honestly. Most girls would have probably kicked me out by now. But not Madison.
Not only was she fucking gorgeous, but the girl was honest and trusting.
A much better person than I was.
“I hope that whatever you two are, that it stays that way.” His face grew serious again.
“Ah.”
I might have agreed, but merely thinking about my damsel and what would happen when this was all over had that troublesome feeling back in my brain. I had to figure this all out for Great-Grandfather and somehow make sure there weren’t any casualties.
A feat much easier said than done.
…
Once the sun started to set over the horizon, casting oranges and reds over the rolling hills, Gavin released the dogs, and we headed back inside.
I planned on retiring to the bedroom, maybe calling my sister, but as soon as I stepped back into the manor, I knew neither was an option. Madison stood on the marble floor, shifting from one foot to the next as she looked at a painting.
“Madison? Is everything okay?” Gavin asked, slowly approaching her.
She turned, both feet now firmly planted on the ground as she clasped her hands tightly together in front of her, her sketchbook tucked into the crook of her arm. “What? Oh. Yes. Just waiting for y’all to get back. Thought after your family catch-up time, I could maybe walk the property a bit with Jacob?”
Gavin nodded, the tick back in his jaw. But then I spotted something else. That hint of a smile again. What the heck was that for?
“Absolutely,” he said then faced me, a new sparkle in his eye as he put his hand out. “It was good talking to you, Jacob. I’ll see you at dinner.”
I took his hand, shaking it briskly. “Sounds grand.”
Once he let go of my hand, he nodded to Madison. “Watch so this one stays out of trouble, right? I think he might try to take Koda home with him.”
Gavin laughed, but my shoulders tightened. I swore I saw Madison’s do the same little twitch.
As soon as Gavin was down the hallway and I couldn’t hear his footsteps, I offered Madison my arm. “Shall we?”
“Yeah, we shall. Or whatever.” She marched past me toward the veranda, not stopping until she was a few meters down the hill.
I followed her quickly, stopping once I reached her side. With the setting sun and the beautiful canvas of hazy orange behind her, she was framed in a halo of bursting color that brought out the dark gold of her eyes.
Darn, I wanted to kiss her.
Even if only to engrain this moment in my memory and try to forget about everything else swirling through my head.
But before I could step closer to make that move, she huffed, pulling her sketchbook closer to her chest, little stamps of charcoal marked on her fingers from brushing the pages.
“Can you ride a horse?” she asked.
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Not the question I was expecting.
“A horse. Can you ride one?”
I nodded. “Yes. It’s been a few weeks, but I’ve ridden.”
The last time before we’d sold the horses and the stable.
Another punch to my already guilt-ridden gut.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been on more than a pony ride, and now all of a sudden my sister is all sophisticated and says we’re going on a ride tomorrow with my mom and her new sister-in-law. How the hell do I even get on a horse? Or get it to move?” She threw one arm to the side, and I caught a glimpse of her sketchbook, the hills of Webley Manor sketched in the background.
The tightening in my chest was now gone and replaced with champagne bubbles. Dammit, she was cute when she did that. Being real. She always was. I was the one hiding.
“I can teach you all of that.”
“By tomorrow?”
I glanced at the stables then back at her. “How does right now sound?”
She blinked, following my gaze. “Really?”
I might not have been the best or most honest date in the world, but it really had been weeks since I’d ridden. And if I could see more of the property and get out in the fresh air to think, I’d take it.
And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be alone with the beautiful woman in front of me.
“Yes. I’ll just need to change, then I can contact one of the maids to get us in touch with the stable master.” I took a careful step forward. “But I’m going to need something in return.”
“Jacob…I…”
Shaking my head, I pointed toward her sketchbook. “When you’re done with your drawing, I want a copy, in exchange for the lessons.”
She glanced from the sketchbook then back to me. “This? Really?”
I nodded. I would have helped her anyway, but I saw the way she talked about her art. How she made it dismissive. She needed to know it was appreciated.
She bit her bottom lip, running her thumb along the charcoal edges of the hills forming on the paper.
“Lessons for an original Madison drawing? Sound like a deal?”
She blinked hard, letting out a deep breath, and I held my own, waiting for her answer.
Finally, she nodded. “Okay. We have a deal.”
Chapter Seven
Madison
Horseback riding.
I remember when Natalie and I had been little and getting allergy tested, the doctor had asked about testing us for different animal hair. Our mom had quietly told the doctor not to worry about horses because we probably weren’t ever going to see one. She hadn’t wanted to let us know that, of course.
And that was the problem with growing up without a lot of money.
When I’d started school, I realized other kids spent their weekends at amusement parks or Friday nights out for pizza. I’d had no idea how bad off we were until Dad passed away.
Mom had never wanted us to know.
Now Natalie had more money than she could ever dream of and was going to be marrying an English lord with infinite resources.
Bet Mom didn’t think any of this would happen during our allergy testing.
And neither did I.
Which was why I now stood in the nicest barn I’d ever seen, my boots digging into the hay as I stared at the big brown mare in front of me.
At least I thought she was a mare. Everything I knew about horses came from American Girl books I’d read in elementary school.
“This is Buttermilk,” the older gentleman who’d greeted us at the barn said.
I assumed he was the stablemaster.
“Next to Buttermilk is Satin, who Lady Natalie usually rides.” The man nodded to the wooden stall where a large black horse looked at me with its dark eyes as if it were staring into my soul. If it was going to keep looking at me like that, how the hell was I going to ride next to Natalie?
“Are they good to take out, Mr. Potts?” Jacob asked, putting his hand on the front of the horse’s face, right between her eyes, as he brushed his palm against it.
Heirly Ever After Page 7