“Reginald has them. He has refused to hand them over to me. He expected to be appointed guardian.”
His face hardened. “After I see him, we will go over them together.”
“You dinna answer my question.”
“About running Lochaene? It would not be easy, my lady. Men are no’ so ready to take orders from a lass.”
She glared at him. “My husband has nearly destroyed Lochaene. I could not do worse.”
“The point isn’t not doing worse. It is doing far better.”
She bit her lower lip. He sounded so sure of himself. Confident. Ruthless. She still did not know what he wanted. There had to be something, a missing piece of a puzzle.
His gaze bored into her. And found her wanting? Did it even matter?
“You have never married, my lord?”
His lips firmed into a tight line and he was silent for a moment. “Nay. I had naught to offer until my cousin … died last year.” A mask smoothed over his face, and he turned back to the fire. “I will require a room, madam. And food. It has been a long journey. We can talk again after I see the books.”
Janet lifted her chin. She had just been dismissed in her own home. She had her answer about assuming control.
“The children have my late husband’s room. I wanted them close to me,” she said. “I would not like to see them moved.”
“And I would not wish to see them move. I am used to plain surroundings, my lady. I do not require much. Any room will be sufficient. A bed and a table. And some food. We can discuss the estate on the morrow.”
“I will have a room prepared,” she said cooly, but she did not feel cool. He had turned away from the fireplace and approached her, and she saw the shadows in his eyes. As he came closer, heat rose in her. An almost palpable tension stretched between them and she wanted to reach out, to smooth the lines around his eyes. She did not think they came from laughter.
Remember what happened before. You thought he wanted you then.
Her stomach quivered. She stiffened her back and took a step backward, her hand reaching behind her for the door.
Then, to her shame, she turned and ran. Escaped from him. From her own thunderous feelings.
Chapter Six
Neil spent a most unpleasant hour with Reginald, who still protested the guardianship and presenting the books to Neil. The man had been drinking and was belligerent. It was not until Neil threatened to ask Cumberland for some soldiers that Reginald grudgingly handed over the books.
When Neil emerged from the study, a servant—a young woman—showed him to a room.
The mistress, she said, was with the children.
While not luxurious, the room was clean and, as he requested, had a table and chair as well as a large bed and a wardrobe. A decanter and glasses were on the table, and he poured himself a glass. Port. Not particularly good port, but he welcomed its warmth as he sprawled in the chair and opened the large ledger book.
Neil had kept the books for Braemoor even before assuming the title. He was scrupulous about them. He looked at Lochaene’s books and even his first cursory glance found trouble. There had been no entries for several months. What rents were mentioned were obviously overly high for this unfertile ground.
Long overdue bills were stuffed between the pages of the book.
He would have to do an inventory, determine what could be sold to raise enough coin to buy seed. Either seed or sheep. He had no idea from the state of the books how many sheep or cattle Lochaene claimed.
It was perfectly evident that he would have to loan funds to the estate to give it any chance of succeeding. He wondered how he could do that without Janet’s knowledge. She would want to refuse. She’d made it clear she’d wanted nothing from him except to convince Cumberland to give her guardianship. That he had emerged with it had made her more than a little suspicious.
He knew it had galled her to ask him for help; it must be magnified three times that by now. To hand her money would only further destroy her pride. Yet he knew from the books and the state of the property that it could not survive without a large influx of money—and soon.
He’d been a fool years ago, thinking that she would readily forget what had happened and marry well. Part of that belief had been his own lack of faith in himself. What woman would really want to risk the madness that tainted his blood or share the poverty of his position then. He had sought to protect her, and now he realized he had struck a mean blow that had never healed, perhaps had even led her into a loveless marriage.
In the end, he hadn’t protected her. He’d had damned little experience at being noble, and so he’d been completely inept at that, too.
Bloody hell, but he had made a mess of everything.
Eventually, she would have to accept his financial help if she wanted any inheritance for her son, but it would cost her dearly. And he had already cost her enough.
A knock came on the door, and he felt a momentary anticipation. Janet?
He rose and went to the door. The same servant who had shown him the room had a tray loaded with food.
“Your mistress? Is she dining tonight?”
“She is eating with the lassies,” the girl said.
“And you are …?”
She curtsied neatly. “Lucy, my lord.”
“Then my thanks, Lucy.”
She bobbed and blushed. “Ye are welcome, my lord.”
“Will you ask your mistress if she can go riding over the property with me in the morning?”
“Aye, my lord.”
He nodded and shut the door, placing the tray down on the table. There was a roasted chicken, sweet potatoes, boiled buttered carrots, and a fruit pastry. He was surprised at how good it was. But the food left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was damnably tired of eating alone, of being alone. Perhaps he had even hoped …
But that had been an unwise hope. He needed to stay away from the countess. He’d come close today to making a fool of himself. But the fire in those dark blue eyes was like a flame to his moth. So was her fine soft skin and the lips that trembled ever so slightly. He remembered the feel of them in vivid detail. The years had peeled back as if they had never existed.
He tried to dismiss the image and concentrate on the changes. But they, too, were dangerous. He was as attracted to the woman she was today as he had been to the lass she had been. He had hoped that would not be true, but he’d known it was the moment he’d seen her again. His heart still spun out of control. Reason fled. He’d realized how much he wanted her beside him.
He’d hoped that he could come for a day or so, settle the fact that he, not Reginald, was the young earl’s guardian. He would find someone to help her, but then he could be gone. But now he knew he could not do that. Reginald’s enmity ran too deep. The finances of the estate were too tangled. No matter how intelligent Janet was, she would not be able to unravel them without help. He would not stay, but he would have to make frequent trips back.
And each would be a visit to hell. He remembered an old Greek tale. Tantalus, that was it. He had offended the gods, and he was condemned to stand up to the chin in a pool of water in Hades and beneath fruit-laden boughs only to have the water or fruit recede at each attempt to drink or eat.
Mayhap that was his punishment for Culloden, for protecting a bully, for closing his eyes to misery.
He finished his meal, took another sip of port. Then he paced. When he had ridden onto Lochaene, he’d seen unplowed fields, empty pastures, abandoned crofts. How bad was it? The groom had been a hulking, inept man. Neil had tended his own horse, knowing that he wanted the man nowhere near his horse.
He took the oil lamp from his room, went down the stairs and out to the stable. No one was there. He set down the lamp and went through the stables. The stalls needed cleaning, and the horses moved restlessly, which meant they’d probably not had enough to eat. He checked around for oats and found only hay.
He swore to himself. Matters would change on the morrow. He would bring the y
oung lad who had fetched him to Lochaene. He’d had a fine eye and a way with horses.
Neil had reached the back of the stable when he heard a noise. Someone else had entered. The groom? A stableboy? If it was one or the other, Neil meant to upbraid him. He lowered the flame in the lamp and moved into the shadows without really knowing why. Instinct? Curiosity? Caution born of an uncertain childhood? He could not remember when he had not listened. There had been too many blows. Too many insults.
But then he heard her voice, low and melodic.
Janet was talking softly, obviously to one of the horses. “I will get you some good oats,” she promised. He heard a noise of a stall opening, then the sound of rustling straw. He stepped out of the shadows.
The Countess of Lochaene was mucking out a stall!
She obviously did not see him as he leaned against a wall for a moment. He wondered how often she had done this, and how critical he had been of the stables. That she had done it before was obvious. She was as competent as his own stablelads.
Bloody hell. He’d wondered what her life had been like these past few years. He’d wondered whether she had loved her husband. Certainly she had been pale the day of the burial. But now he wondered whether her life had been plain hell.
His chest ached. He stepped out of the shadows and moved carefully to the stall. He did not want to startle her. Then he waited until she looked up.
When she did, a startled cry came from her mouth. Her eyes narrowed in the thin light from a lantern. She wore a plain, nearly threadbare dark dress that did nothing for her. Yet it could not hide the slender curves of her body, nor the graceful way she moved, even holding a heavy pitchfork.
“Is it your custom to sneak about at night, my lord?”
“Is it your custom to muck out stalls at midnight?”
“Aye, when there is no one else to do it.”
“What happened to the grooms and stablelads?”
“They were not paid and one after another left. One, Kevin, was fired because he allowed me to take a horse, but he had no’ been paid for months, either. The last one”—she shrugged—“he probably lost his position for the same reason, but he was no loss.”
“Here,” he said, holding out his hand for the pitchfork she was using.
“You, my lord?”
“Better than you, my lady,” he replied. “And I’ve probably had a lot more practice. Did you intend to do them all tonight?”
“Just the mare. I rode her hard today. She deserves a comfortable stall, and I wanted to see that she had feed. I canna find any,” she added despairingly. “I ordered some.”
“Hay will do for tonight. I will send someone for feed in the morning, and then we shall keep it locked,” he said. “I know of a young lad who would make a good groom.”
“So would Kevin,” she said. “He needs the money for his family.”
“Then we will have both,” he said. “What in the hell kind of landlord was your husband?” he said.
Her chin set stubbornly and she did not answer as he quickly cleaned out the old straw and easily lifted a bale and scattered it around. “Done,” he said as he left the stall.
“There are twelve others,” she said.
“I’ve done my share of cleaning stalls, my lady. I will leave the rest to other hands. It will be done tomorrow. I will bring Tim here and see whether we can find your Kevin. Now I think it is time for us to be abed.”
Her eyes met his. He wanted her to say she was pleased he had come. He should not want that. But he did. He wanted to feel needed. Wanted. The desire was raw. Intense.
But she looked away, her dark blue eyes as deep as the midnight sky. And as revealing.
“Did Lucy tell you I wished you to go riding with me this morning?”
“Aye,” she replied cautiously.
“And your answer?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Are you not accustomed to having one?”
“Nay,” she said.
He watched her swallow hard, and he suddenly knew why it was so important to her that she had some control. She obviously had had none. God himself only knew what she’d been through these past few years. Obviously her husband had cared little for his properties and even less for his tenants. And his wife …?
Her eyes held scars. Everything about her, even the stiff pride, was like a suit of protective armor.
He thought how free she had been years ago, how she had delighted in a sunset, or the trail of rays across a loch. She’d had a glow when she looked at him that made him feel like a giant of a man when he’d been little better than his cousin’s servant. How he wanted to see it there again.
He did not think it would ever be there for him again. And it could not be. But he wanted that glow back for something. For anything.
“After the morning meal, then,” he said, disregarding the fact that she had not agreed at all.
“Aye,” she said without enthusiasm.
“I bid you good night,” he said, taking her lantern.
She walked alongside him to the manor house, but he sensed her reluctance every step of the way.
He stopped at the door. He wanted to tell her about the books, but she had to be tired. He would leave that distasteful chore until tomorrow.
But she looked up at him. “You talked to Reginald.”
He nodded.
“You have the books, then?”
She waited for him to answer.
“Aye,” he finally said. “I just glanced through them.”
Her eyes suddenly looked hopeful. “I … can get seed? It will soon be too late for the tenants.”
“It is late for planting,” he said dubiously.
“But without it they have no chance at all,” she said.
“We will talk about it in the morning.”
Her eyes pleaded with him, and he hated that, because he knew how much she loathed him. Finally, she nodded. “Is your bedchamber adequate?”
“’Tis fine, and so was the meal.”
She tried a small smile that went straight to his heart. Then she seemed to gather her dignity around her, and he felt she had moved a thousand miles away from him.
She made her way up to her room. Colin was sleeping there, his breathing easy; his breath, when she leaned over to brush his cheeks with her lips, was sweet. There was something about bairns, an innocence so pure that it made her heart ache.
She had almost believed Braemoor. She tried to think of him that way. Braemoor. The Marquis of Braemoor. Not Neil. Not the young man she’d so desperately loved. She still could not quite believe that he had appeared out of nowhere, not only out of nowhere but suddenly to take such an enormous place in her life. She only wished she knew what he wanted. Or was he in league with Reginald in some way?
She had not told him about the incident on the battlement. He would think her hysterical, for one thing. For another, she still did not know where his loyalties really lay. Was he totally Cumberland’s man? Reginald’s accomplice? Or most unlikely of all, her friend? And if it were the latter, did she really want to rely on him again? He was a man without honor. She had to remember that.
Colin opened his eyes. They were dark blue like hers. Not his father’s light blue ones. She prayed he wouldn’t inherit any other of his father’s traits, either. Or had it been Alasdair’s heritage that had made him what he was? Love, she thought, begets love. Hatred begets hatred. Alasdair grew up in a household full of greed and jealousy. So had Reginald. Neither had known anything else.
But Colin would. And so would the lasses. She undressed down to her chemise. She had eaten earlier with the lasses, and had promised them an outing on the morrow. That was before she’d received the summons to ride from her son’s new guardian. She had no choice but to do as he requested, particularly if she wanted to help the tenants.
How long did he plan to stay? How much would he control? How much would he take from what belonged to her son and her stepdaughters?
; And why, considering all these questions, did something inside her respond to him?
When she was with him, her heart pounded harder. Her senses came alive. Her breath came in ragged bursts. And she felt a warmth in places that had been ever so cold before.
A ride tomorrow. He had given her little choice. Janet went to the window and looked out. It was silent below, quiet. Lochaene had never been home to her. Within several months of coming here, she’d realized she had made a mistake. And yet … mayhap not a mistake at all. Grace, Rachel and Annabella had enriched her life. They had needed her as much as she needed to be needed. And Colin. She knew she would not exchange him—nor the lasses—for anything in the world.
She also knew she did not want to be alone with the Marquis of Braemoor in the morning.
Mayhap, the presence of three lasses might assuage the unexpected yearning within her.
And even make him rethink the length of his stay at Lochaene.
Grace’s steady stare, Rachel’s many questions and Annabella’s barely contained exuberance might disconcert him. And she wanted to disconcert him. She wanted to tear away that steady gaze and controlled face. She wanted to know if there were really any emotions in him.
Or whether he was just as empty as she’d thought these past eight years.
Neil knew she hadn’t wanted to come with him this morn. He tried to tell himself it was a necessary part of his new duties, but lately he’d been cursed with an honesty that didn’t permit such self-deception. He wanted to be with her, whether she wanted to be with him or not.
It was a hellish admission.
And it kept him awake the rest of the night. He had to curb his need for her. She was so newly widowed. Even if she were not, he had no right. Ever since that disastrous interview with his uncle years ago, he’d not been with a woman. God knew he had not wanted to present a child of his with his own dilemma, with the possibility of madness. ’Twas best to end the line with him.
Abstinence had not been a burden. Until he’d met Janet, he’d been like any young man, wenching and bedding any willing woman, but he’d always come away with a disquieting sense of emptiness. And after meeting Janet, every woman since paled in comparison. He’d known that coupling would only lead to self-incrimination and an even deeper sense of aloneness.
The Heart Queen Page 9