“Yet you are happily married. So perhaps the institution’s reputation has been exaggerated.”
“That all depends on the woman. Take Eliza, for example.” Pendleton leaned forward as if warming to his favorite subject. “The sweetest of temperaments but the heart of a warrior when it comes to protecting the defenseless. It’s how I met her, you know. She can make me laugh one moment and boil my blood in the next.
“In other words, the right female may be worth the parson’s trap, but each one brings her own peril to the party.”
“Exactly!”
Mid September
Gideon pulled the collar tightly around his neck. Water poured off his hat, down his back, and dripped off his nose. The rain had been unrelenting since they’d left the inn that morning. He hated being imprisoned in the carriage, but he was close to giving in. The greatcoat gained weight with each mile, and his shoulders were beginning to ache. They had made Edinburgh two days ago and would reach his grandfather’s home before the end of the day. He hated this part of the country already. Soggy, dreary, and those blasted thistles. At least the road was holding out—there was so much rock that the mud hadn’t been a problem yet.
With a resigned sigh, he hailed the driver and the wheels sloshed to a stop. He dismounted, tied Verity to the back of the carriage with the spare horse, unbuttoned his capes, and shook them out as he opened the door.
“I knew if I was patient, the rain would eventually drive ye inside. We need to talk.”
Maeve smiled with a smugness that irritated him. He carefully removed his hat and dumped the contents of the rim outside. When he slammed the door shut, the wooden window slats rattled. He had been avoiding this conversation. However, he needed an explanation before they reached Naught Castle.
“I agree. Shall I begin?”
She nodded her consent and pulled a handkerchief from her reticule. “Dry yerself and speak up. This storm is verra loud upon the roof. Has the other carriage caught up with us yet?”
“Almost. Your maid does not seem to enjoy the travel as much as her mistress. She looked half terrified when I informed her you preferred to travel alone today.” He wiped off his face and neck then ran the cloth over his head. “Now, let’s start with your speech. The closer you get to Dunderave, the thicker your brogue becomes.” Had this been true during their visits to Glasgow? He didn’t recall. But then again, the Lowlanders didn’t speak the Gaelic as the Highlanders did.
“It’s in my blood, Gideon. I suppose the more I’m exposed to my kinfolk and clan members, the more I hear it on their tongues… To be truthful, I hadn’t noticed. And I won’t apologize for it or try to hide it.” Her chin jutted out in that familiar way that silently told him she would not give in to this point.
“It was only a question, Mama. It matters not if you say ‘don’t know’ or dinna ken. But I would like to know if Father required you to speak as an Englishwoman.” He had begun to suspect his mother’s life in England had not been easy.
His parents had loved each other, yes, but the late earl had been inflexible in his opinions and stringent with societal rules. What had she gone through as a young girl of eighteen in a foreign country, surrounded by strangers who looked down on her bloodlines and upbringing? He was sure the ton would have presented their false smiles then turned their noses up as soon as the Earl of Stanfeld turned his back. His mother was perceptive and would have known she was seen as an outsider. Yet somehow, she had won their respect and even made valuable friendships.
Maeve sighed. “Aye, he hired a tutor to help me with my diction. It pleased him, and I enjoyed learning the cant. The lessons helped fill the hours with your father gone for days at a time. Then I made friends, had children, and needed no other diversion.”
Gideon nodded and decided to get to the point. “How did you know about the rebellion? I’m not calling your dream a hum, but I can’t credit you as some sort of gypsy fortune teller who can predict our future.”
“Then you explain it to me, please. You said yourself that ye didna hear about the Manchester trouble until the solicitor mentioned it in London. The Times reported the entire event so it’s not gossip.” Her hands were gripped tightly in her lap, fingers entwined, knuckles white. Her voice caught. “And your cousin is dead, leaving a young widow barely married a year.”
His hand swiped over his face, jaw clenched. He prayed for patience. Again. “Perhaps someone on the estate heard rumors, and you overheard a conversation without realizing it.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “We know Ian had taken over the mill for Grandfather and went to Manchester on occasion. Perhaps these pieces floated about in your mind and came together in a dream.”
“Perhaps,” she mimicked.
The sun chose that moment to appear, sending bright rays poking through the blinds. Maeve pulled the satin rope and was presented with a view of narrow ridges interspersed with sharp peaks, capped with white and dotted with green. Shadows played light then dark, rolling over the landscape and making the mountains appear alive. She gave a satisfied sigh and leaned back against the cushions, a smile on her lips. Gideon thought she looked years younger.
“Your father may have molded you into his image, Gideon, but half my blood runs through your veins. Now that you have bestowed me with your suppositions, may I tell you what is certain?”
He ground his teeth but moved his mouth up in an attempted smile. “Of course.”
“I have a gift, or a curse, depending how one sees a legacy such as this. Since I was a girl, I’ve had dreams that come true. When Da realized it, he explained they were visions, an ability passed down through our family over the centuries. It often skips generations but appears when needed. I only have these dreams when there is a possibility of changing fate’s course.” She paused. “This is why I needed to come home.”
“But Ian is dead. How did your dream help him? It didn’t alter history or save the lives of those at St. Peter’s Field.” He shook his head. “This makes no sense.”
“Then the vision wasn’t meant to save Ian or the others but someone else. It is yet to be realized.” Her voice was quiet but steady, no pleading for understanding in her tone, no anger at his speculation. Just a steadfastness that proved she spoke the truth. Or believed she did. They sat in silence for some time.
“So we will spend a month in the Highlands, hoping to unravel the mystery and our role in changing the course of history?” He kneaded his forehead with the ball of his palm, wondering what calamities lay in store.
Maeve leaned across the carriage and squeezed his hand. “It will take time for you to accept my visions. I pray I never have another. Och, you may never accept my visions or your own ability. Only time will tell.”
“My ability—”
“There it is.” His mother pushed her entire head out the window and pointed to a tower in the distance. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until now.”
When she sat back down, her eyes glistened, a trembling smile on her mouth. He’d never seen her look so lovely. “I will leave you to a private homecoming. It is time for me to return to the saddle.” With a smile, he kissed her cheek. “I’ll reassure your lady’s maid we are close to our destination.”
The next two hours passed quickly. With the rain gone and his clothes only damp, the Highlands spread out before him like an illustration in a book. The hills seemed to pile one upon another, sometimes poking through clouds, while mist crept around and between the hollows. Below, the deep valleys were lush with clear, fast-running streams running along their bottom. Much to his surprise, Gideon found the terrain rugged but beautiful in its stark simplicity. The land beckoned him, drew him in, and he had the urge to spur Verity into a gallop and explore what was in the nearby copse or over the next ridge.
Gideon had been ready to dislike this country, and he had at first. But now its essence seemed to swirl around him, gently pushing him to notice the vibrant contrasting colors, the earthy smell of rich soil and pung
ent pine, the chatter of red squirrels, and screech of golden eagles or peregrine falcons. It was a landscape that stood proud in its history, not apologizing for its irregularities or unpredictable weather. His mother had been shaped by her birthplace.
“Gideon! Gideon look,” Maeve called from the carriage, pointing to the narrow winding path ahead. “We’re almost there.”
He urged Verity back and rode alongside the carriage as they made their way up the incline, listening to his mother explain about this crumbling structure or that decaying wall. A rectangular stone keep stood above them, a round tower built into its far north corner, overlooking the countryside. The edifice loomed over a courtyard and a group of people waving and shouting. Two Scottish deerhounds lounged beneath a rowan tree, letting out an occasional bark. They were not close enough to discern faces or hear words but Gideon grinned. He’d recognize his grandfather’s tall, dark form from any distance. His grandmother would be clucking and calling their names.
A deep longing swept over him, an inexplicable need to belong to these people. As the voices grew louder, and his name could be heard in the excited prattle, he found himself happy to have come. It must have shown on his face.
“You dinna regret the trip,” his mother said cheerfully as wheels crunched the gravel and slowed to a stop. “I’m glad.”
He barely had time to dismount before the MacNaughtons descended upon them with hugs and tears and slaps on the back. He and his mother didn’t have time to answer one question before another was asked.
“How were the roads?”
“Did ye catch any rain?”
“Ye must be parched.”
A shrill whistle pierced the air and silence descended. Calum looked smug as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth. “My daughter and grandson need to catch their breath and refresh themselves before we ambush them like a pack of wolves.”
A murmur of agreement, a brief hush, and the cacophony began again. A chuckle grew and spilled out of Gideon, joined by Calum. “I see nothing has changed.”
“Och, lad, why would ye want that?” He nodded toward the keep door. “Welcome to our humble abode. It’s not much to look at these days, but it’s belonged to our clan since the fourteenth century.”
Naught Castle was everything he expected of an ancient keep. Outside, the thick walls dominated the architecture with narrow slits for light on the lower floors and larger windows above. Compared to the elegance of Stanfeld Manor, Naught Castle was unembellished and solid. It reminded him of Calum MacNaughton. He loved it.
A bell clanged and a woman called from the entrance. “Refreshments are served.”
His gaze locked on the most exquisite girl. Her hair was dark but not black. More of a burnt umber. A white scarf covered her head, but it did nothing to contain the thick waves that fell around her small waist and rounded hips. Honey-brown eyes watched him curiously, and a shy smile curved her full pink lips. She wore mourning clothes but rather than dim her beauty, the dark color enhanced her creamy skin. The word enchanting sprang to his mind.
A servant? A local villager’s daughter? Such a striking girl—she did appear young—added to the castle’s charm. Gideon had a sudden urge to know more about her. A local beauty could certainly help pass the time.
Chapter 4
“Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.”
—Percy Bysshe Shelley
“Thank ye, Lissie.” Calum turned to the group. “Ye heard the lass, inside with the lot of ye.”
They stepped into the dark entryway and proceeded into a large receiving room. Taking the narrow stairs to the first floor, their heels clicked on the ancient stones and the women’s skirts rustled against the steps as they ascended to the dining room. The table had been set with warm bread, cheese, smoked salmon, fresh berries, and stewed apples.
“We thought ye may be hungry after yer journey,” said the young woman, Lissie. “Would ye like tea, ale, or wine?”
Gideon could not take his eyes off her. Her husky voice settled over him, followed by a wave of heat. He changed his mind. She was gentle bred not a serving girl or kitchen maid. He pulled out a chair for his mother and grandmother. Peigi patted the seat next to her.
“Please an old woman and sit yer handsome face here.”
Calum guffawed and took his place at the head of the table. The two hounds, one a sandy red and the other a dark blue-gray, lay at his feet, one on each side. The darker one lifted its head as his master absently scratched his shaggy rough coat. “Gideon could be me forty years ago. I imagine that rankled Charles a wee bit.” He pulled out a chair for Aunt Glynis and Lissie. So his second guess was correct.
“He preferred to think I took after his mother’s family. And Mama indulged him,” Gideon added as he studied the room. While the outside had been left to the elements, inside the castle had been renovated with paneling, large rugs, and painted ceilings. The wealth was evident in tasteful antiques or sculptures placed on shelves or tables. The platters and silver shone with polished care, and the smell of fresh baked goods tickled his nose. For all the cold gray on the outside, the tower house was inviting and comfortable.
“I must apologize to ye for my lack of manners. This is my daughter-in-law,” said his aunt. “This is Alisabeth, Ian’s wife…widow…” She sighed as her eyes closed for a brief moment then smiled. “She’s been my saving grace these past weeks. I dinna ken what I’d do without her.”
The woman blushed and lowered her eyes. “We’ve been a great comfort to each other.”
Disappointment then guilt surged in his chest as Gideon realized this stunning creature had been his cousin’s wife. She was grief-stricken, and he was concentrating on that delectable mouth. Good god, man, he thought. My apologies, Ian, I didn’t know.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I offer my sincere condolences?”
The sadness in those amber eyes pierced his soul. She was so young to experience such a burden. He searched for words that might ease her sorrow but was at a loss. Instead he said what was in his heart. “Ian was a fine man, and he will be greatly missed.”
Her gaze fell upon him and he had the urge to stroke her cheek and tell her all would be well. “Please, we dinna stand on ceremony here. Call me Alisabeth or Lissie. And I thank ye for the kind words.”
Their eyes met and held, and then she smiled. Warmth rushed through his body again—or God forbid, was it a blush? This time satisfaction filled him instead of regret.
He’d pleased her and it made him glad.
Alisabeth stood at the door, unable to interrupt the intimate family reunion. If Ian had been alive, he’d have pulled her into the gathering. But he was not. She recognized Lady Stanfeld as she stepped from the carriage, the same deep blue eyes as Glynis and Calum, the striking auburn hair Peigi once had, and the smile that marked every MacNaughton. As the voices rose, she slipped back into the castle and made sure the refreshments were set out.
The kitchen had sent up fresh bread, cheese, and baked apples. The scent of sugar and cinnamon filled the hall. She took a deep breath, feeling the confidence seep back into her bones as she issued orders and fell into a familiar role. Satisfied all was in order, she returned to the courtyard.
Alisabeth heard a whistle as she reached the door. In the fleeting silence, a man straightened, and her heart stopped. A lock of coal black hair fell across his forehead, and he pushed it back with long fingers. Below a straight nose and high cheek bones, flexed a strong jaw. His waistcoat stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. Tan breeches hugged muscled thighs and calves that disappeared into mud-spattered leather boots. A foreign heat spread through her limbs, and she grabbed the bell rope used to call the children, and pulled until it clanged.
“Refreshments are served.”
Vivid sapphire eyes locked with hers and knocked the breath from her lungs. Embarrassment warmed her skin, but she did not look away from his handsome face or try to stop the small smile forming on her lips. Her stomach
fluttered as it had when she was a child, jumping from the high rocks into the loch. As the group moved into the cool dim interior, Alisabeth could smell his spicy scent. Orange mixed with salt, probably from his sweat during the long ride. It created a unique musky smell that tickled her senses as Lord Stanfeld passed by her.
She could see the dust in the lines of his neck and fisted her hands, so she didn’t reach up to wipe away the grime and brush the hair from under his collar. With a slight trembling, she wiped the perspiration from her palms onto her skirt. Saints and sinners, she scolded herself. Stop fussin’ over yer husband’s cousin.
Yet her body did not listen. When Glynis introduced them, his rich baritone sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. His genuine words about Ian warmed her and were appreciated. Such conflicting reactions made Alisabeth want to run from the room. Jump on her mare, race through the fields, and hide in her private spot by the water where she could sort through the confusion that filled her head.
“Once I am rested,” Lady Stanfeld was saying to Glynis, “I’d like to take a walk and see what has changed.”
“Not much, I warn ye. The stables have expanded with living quarters above.” Aunt Glynis winked at Gideon and teased her older sister. “Do ye still ride or have the years caught up with ye?”
“I’ll race ye to the glen, dear sister. Let me pick out a horse, and we’ll take a gallop this week. Gideon, are ye interested?”
“Do I have to race or can I follow behind and watch?”
“Suit yerself. But the loser will forfeit their shortbread Lissie is making for Sunday.” Glynis frowned. “Maybe ye can convince her to stay out of the kitchens.”
Calum held up his hand. “Not until she makes the shortbread. I tell ye, lad,”—he nodded at his grandson—“a scoop of fresh strawberry preserves on one of those biscuits, and ye’ll be in heaven. Or mighty close.”
When a Rogue Falls Page 91