by Jill Jones
“But, it would be highly irregular for me to leave him in a household where the potential parents aren’t married yet,” came back the official reply.
“Our vows are set for the very near future,” Taylor blurted out. “It seems to me that it would just make things extra difficult for him to have to adjust to more strangers right now, and as you can see, he’s obviously happy right where he is.” Her heart pounded. Oh, please, lady, do what’s right by this kid, not by your damned books.
Mrs. Claiborne looked at her watch. She looked at Duncan, then at Taylor, then at Pauley. “I’m in something of a hurry,” she said, standing to go. “I will leave him with you for the time being, but I can’t guarantee that I will be able let him stay more than a few days. It will be up to the board to decide when we review his case. In the meantime, don’t take him out of the area.”
A sudden thought struck Taylor.
“But, Mrs. Claiborne, I had planned take him tomorrow to Aberdeen. I…am hoping to get an appointment with an ear specialist.”
The woman’s face softened. “Be careful, Miss Kincaid. I know it’s easy to lose your heart to this kind of lad. But believe me, it’s better not to get too emotionally involved. If his parents are found, he’ll be returned to them, unless they are found to have been abusive, of course. But even if he is an orphan, you will have to prove your fitness as adoptive parents, and the process takes some time. Go ahead. Make your appointment in Aberdeen. But just don’t set yourself up for disappointment.”
Andy McDowell rose to leave as well. He looked at Duncan as if he couldn’t believe the scene that had just transpired before his eyes. Then he extended his hand smiled. “I’m happy for you, mate. And for this pretty lass. Y’ve been needin’ t’ find a good woman for some years now.”
He’d found a good woman all right, Duncan thought as he closed the door behind the pair. But had she meant it when she’d called herself his fiancé, or had it been just an act for the benefit of the social worker? He turned to Taylor. “You can’t marry me just for the sake of Pauley,” he said heavily, throwing her earlier words back at her.
Taylor did not reply. Instead, she picked the child up in her arms, gave him a big kiss, then put him down again. “Getting too big for me, little buddy,” she said, and signed that he could go back to his Lego construction work if he wanted to. He grinned and was up the stairs in a flash.
She gave Duncan an enigmatic smile. “You got any of that Scotch we never got around to last night?”
Duncan saw that something had changed since this morning. Did he dare hope it was her mind? Quickly, he poured them each a shot into the same glasses that he’d emptied and washed when he did the breakfast dishes. Taylor took her same seat at the round table in the kitchen where only hours before she had made a decision to leave him.
“I guess we’re not through talking,” she said, taking the glass and sipping at the scotch.
Duncan turned his own chair around and sat astride it, his arms leaning against the wooden backrest. “I’m listening,” he said. “I think I’ve said all I can say.”
“Fair enough. Let me start by telling you that little bit about a doctor’s appointment in Aberdeen was not exactly true. But I wanted to get her permission to take Pauley on a little trip tomorrow.”
“What kind of little trip?”
“To see a house.”
Duncan frowned. The woman continued to confound him. “What house?”
She gave a small laugh. “Before I answer that, let me ask you a question…is that marriage proposal still open?”
Duncan felt a smile permeate his entire face, and a warm glow settled around his heart. “You know it is.” He set the glass down on the table top and took her hands in his. “Have you changed your mind, Taylor? Will you marry me?”
He saw a twinkle in her eyes. “Well, I might, provided we can agree on some details.”
He kissed her fingertips and longed to take her in his arms and kiss all the rest of her. But he’d almost lost her earlier by pushing too hard. He’d listen to what she had to say. Then he’d kiss all the rest of her. “You make this sound like a contract negotiation,” he commented on her business-like request.
“Well,” she answered softly, “isn’t marriage the biggest contract two people ever make between each other?”
“I suppose it is.” He could tell she had something important on her mind, even though her banter was light. Something that needed to be settled between them before she’d give him her total commitment. He suspected it had to do with her career. “What details need sorting out?”
He expected her to tell him she’d marry him if he would come to live in New York. Or at the least, that she wanted continue her glamorous lifestyle, even from a base in Scotland. As deeply as he loved her, neither was an option he wanted to live with.
Instead, she started talking about an inheritance—some papers and an old mansion, and at first, Duncan had a hard time following her. She’d never mentioned any of this during their time together at Dunnottar Castle. “Wait. Start over, please,” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t know you were marrying nobility, did you?” she said with a casual laugh, then repeated her story of how she came to Scotland in the first place to claim her inheritance from Lady Agatha Keith.
“But I thought you came to shoot a television show,” he said, trying to make some sense of it all.
“I decided to accomplish two things during the trip,” she replied, then added with a grin. “I always was an overachiever.”
“Yeah, uh, maybe we should talk about that.”
“In a bit. But listen to this first.” She told him about Robert Gordon and the letter and the diary, and what the lawyer had done. “He seems to think it was okay for him to steal those artifacts and sell them because he paid off the mortgage on the house with part of the money.”
“What house?” he asked for the second time.
“My ancestral mansion.” She hesitated for a long moment, biting her bottom lip, then added, “Our new home. Maybe.”
This woman had brought a lot of surprises into his life since they’d met, three nights and three and a half centuries ago. And it appeared she wasn’t finished. “Ancestral mansion. Where?”
“In Aberdeen. I haven’t seen it, and I understand it is rather run-down.” She unzipped the pouch at her waist and took out an envelope. She opened it and handed him a piece of paper. It was the deed to a property in an old district of Aberdeen. “But I own it free and clear.”
She set her glass on the table and entwined her fingers with his. “Duncan,” she said tentatively, “if the place is not too awful, would you consider…moving?”
Taylor could tell this was about the last thing Duncan was expecting from her, and she grinned to herself, sympathizing with his confusion. The idea had only just come to her, but it hit her like a lightning bolt that perhaps that old ancestral mansion might just be the thing to bridge the final obstacle that lay between them.
Taylor’s decision to take the risk of loving Duncan, to trust him when he said he didn’t have to have more children to make his world complete, hadn’t come easily, but when she’d made it, she knew in her heart it was right.
And just moments ago, she’d put her finger on what it was that had been gnawing at the back of her mind, telling her she couldn’t be happy if she married Duncan. It had nothing to do with the man or her feelings toward him. It didn’t even have anything to do with not being able to bear children.
It had everything to do with her need to keep her hands firmly on the wheel of her own life.
To remain in control.
She realized that in her usual obsessive, hard-headed way, she’d believed that if she married Duncan, it meant that she must give up her world, her career, and subjugate her needs to those of her new family.
Now, she recognized the folly of that thinking. Duncan had never asked her to give up anything. She had just assumed he would. If she g
ave up her career, or changed it, it would be because she wanted to, not because anyone was forcing her to. The relief that washed over her was almost tangible.
“Moving? To your inherited mansion?” Duncan asked, bringing her out of her reverie.
“Let’s take a look at it. Consider it. That’s all I’m asking. Unless there’s some reason you can’t, or won’t, leave Stonehaven.”
Duncan looked thoughtful. “No. I’ve been thinking about moving out of this place for some time, but I hadn’t thought about leaving Stonehaven.”
“Is…that a problem?”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing to keep me here but tradition, I suppose. My people have lived here for generations.” He gave a dry laugh. “Maybe as far back as Kenneth and Greta.”
Taylor groaned, then asked, “What about your work?”
“Aberdeen is the heartbeat of the offshore business,” he said. “It would actually be more convenient for me.”
Taylor allowed a ray of hope to shine on her idea. It just might work…
Duncan stood up and drew Taylor from her chair. He encircled her in his arms and kissed her gently. “Does this mean you wouldn’t be going back to New York?”
“I’m not going back to New York in any case,” she said, tilting her head back, her lips eager for more of his kisses. “Except to pack up and move to Scotland.”
She saw the delight on his face. “But what about your career? This morning, I thought…”
“I know. I ‘thought’ too. But I thought wrong. It wasn’t my career, Duncan. It was some other old baggage I had to get rid of.” She touched his cheek with the palm of her hand. “Some other old ‘divils’ I had to put to rest.”
Chapter Thirty
The traffic in Aberdeen was heavy, and Duncan steered his small car carefully through the flow of automobiles, wondering how he would like living in this busy place. But moving here was a small compromise to make, one he’d happily undertake for Taylor. She had assured him that she did not wish to return to New York or the production of her show. “It had a good run, great ratings. I think I’ll stop while I’m ahead,” she’d said. But she’d also told him she wanted to continue to work in television, maybe develop a children’s series, and Aberdeen offered more of the facilities she would need. “I’ve always been an independent producer. What’s to say I can’t do it from here, instead of New York?” Duncan wanted Taylor to pursue the work she loved, especially if it no longer meant that she’d be traipsing around the world like she once did.
They had resolved a lot between them over their scotch the afternoon before, and when they were finished, Duncan knew he must be the happiest man alive. To be sure, there were obstacles they would have to overcome and compromises to be made along the way. But both he and Taylor agreed in the end that their love was strong enough to overcome anything.
Duncan had taken Taylor back to the inn, where she’d checked out, handed the keys to the rental car to her two totally dumbfounded crew members, given them her corporate credit card, and told them to return to the United States and find another job.
They’d stopped at the market for groceries, then returned to Duncan’s house, where together in the tiny kitchen they’d prepared a lovely meal of roast of lamb, mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables. Pauley’s eyes had almost popped out of his head at the abundance and flavor of the food, especially when he had his first taste of ice cream.
Duncan’s dessert came later, when Pauley was sound asleep, and he and Taylor were at last alone, when his wish to kiss all of her finally came true.
“Watch out!” Taylor cried out a warning just in time for Duncan to avoid a collision when a large truck cut in front them. Silently, he reminded himself to keep his mind on his driving instead of what he and Taylor had done in bed last night. To think he would be able to hold her and make love to her like that every night of his life from now on…He felt the beginning of an erection and realized if he was going to stop thinking erotic thoughts about her, he’d have to do it out loud. He switched to another intriguing but not so dangerous subject.
“When we were in the castle, did you ever see the letter and the diary that Gordon stole?” he asked.
“Oh, sure,” Taylor replied, turning in her seat to check on Pauley, who was securely strapped into the back seat. “I actually saw Mrs. Ogilvy write the letter. She had the diary there, too. Right in her little privy closet. She smuggled them both out to Lady Keith, who from the name, I think must have been my ancestor.”
“And what about the Scottish Rose? Did you ever see it?”
“Well, actually, I helped Elizabeth bury it in a cave deep within the castle rock,” she said. “That’s what Pauley and I were up to the night Greta and Kenneth and all those good folks bagged us and almost burned me as a witch.”
Duncan swerved, veering into the next lane. “You did what? Good God! You could have been killed, you could have fallen from that cliff, you could have…”
“Was the Scottish Rose ever recovered? Have you ever seen it mentioned in your history books?”
Her question stopped his stream of remonstrations, which he realized were about three hundred and fifty years too late. Duncan thought about his history lessons. “I don’t recall mention of any such item, especially in connection with the Scottish regalia. You said there was a letter, Mary’s request that it be joined with the crown, the scepter and the sword when peace came to the land, but I don’t think it ever happened. I guess we could go to Edinburgh castle and see. That’s where the Honours are today.”
“When we get things sorted out, why don’t we go to Dunnottar Castle instead? The Scottish Rose might still be right where we left it.”
They reached an older part of town, and Duncan drove slowly through the streets, looking for the address of the house deeded to Taylor.
“Don’t you think we should try to find him?” Taylor asked, speaking of the crooked attorney one more time. “It really irks me that I trusted him. And I don’t care what he did with the money, it isn’t right. He ought to be caught and brought before the law.”
“If he really wanted to disappear, I doubt if we’d be able to find him easily,” Duncan replied. “He probably left the country on a fake passport and has the money in a Bahamian bank by now.”
Taylor heaved a sigh. “I guess I shouldn’t begrudge him his retirement.” She slipped her hand into his. “Only a few days ago, it was just me and my TV show. Now, because of him, I have a fiancé, a child—we hope, and a paid-for mansion.” She laughed. “Maybe it was a fair arrangement after all.”
They reached the ivy-covered gate described in the lawyer’s note that was with the deed, giving them directions to the mansion. Robert Gordon was nothing if not meticulous. Duncan steered the car through the gate and up the cobbled drive that led to a large house, the rear of which overlooked the sea.
“This is amazing,” Taylor uttered.
Duncan crooked his head to peer up at the impressive gray stone mansion that stood like a silent sentinel, its drapes drawn, closing out the world after the death of the old lady who had been its last inhabitant. Its walls reached three stories into the gray sky above, with several large, nine-paned windows overlooking a formal garden that was now overgrown by weeds. On either side, wings had been added, their design more modern than the original structure.
“When did the papers say the place was built?” he asked, parking the car in the drive.
“Around seventeen hundred, but it has been added onto. I guess that’s why the architecture is sort of…eclectic.”
Inside, “eclectic” was the kindest word Duncan could come up with to describe the mish-mash of nineteenth and twentieth century decor and furnishings that greeted them. Pauley was fascinated with the bric-a-brac of all descriptions that cluttered every shelf and table. Chairs and sofas were covered with faded chintz in busy prints. Paintings vied for wall space with old calendars, notes and newspaper clippings taped to the wallpaper, and an occasional ornamen
t of some kind.
The main parlor, just to the left of the entry hall, had been dealt the worst blow, Duncan decided, drawing back the draperies to let the daylight in. He could picture the original walls being much like those at Dunnottar Castle, made of stone and draped with tapestries. But sometime within the last twenty years, these walls had been covered over with tacky, dark wood-grained vinyl paneling. Olive green shag carpeting lay like an old dust mop on the floor and the cheap drapes sagged from the front windows.
“Looks like a seventies decorator got hold of Auntie Agatha,” Taylor commented wryly. “But I think I can see potential here.”
Duncan could see the potential too, and found that he was excited over the prospect of relocating here. Perhaps this structure of ancient rock would be their modern-day castle by the sea.
Taylor went into the adjoining dining area and looked out over the back of the property, which spread in a flat lawn before disappearing over a cliff into the sea. Duncan came to her side and put an arm around her. “I like the view.”
“We’ll have to make sure Pauley is safe out there.”
“Remember, we think the lad is almost twelve, Taylor, even though he’s small.” Duncan reminded her. “He’s plenty old enough to be allowed to explore out there.”
“But his hearing problems…”
Duncan kissed the top of her head. “I talked to a doctor friend of mine while you were in the shower this morning, and he told me there’s a chance Pauley’s hearing might be largely restored by surgery. But other than his deafness, he’s a perfectly normal lad. Would you quit worrying?”
Taylor gave him a good-natured punch in the ribs. “You got any other little tidbits of good news like that to drop on me, mister?”
“Actually, yes. I have a friend in the juvenile division of the police department. They’ve combed high and low around the area where we found Pauley, but there’s been no word that someone is missing a child.”