To Wed an Heiress

by Karen Ranney

  “Do you know anything about his life in Scotland?”

  “No,” Mercy said.

  “Well, I’ve a tale to tell you then. Cameron Burns was a crofter who farmed a small patch of Macrory land. He barely made a living, but he was a handsome young man. Ailsa thought so, too. She took a liking to him. Many’s the time she slipped out of the house to meet him. When her father found out he forbid her to see Cameron again. Ailsa and Cameron ran away to America.”

  Mercy had never heard that story.

  “So when your grandmother goes on and on about your behavior, you might remember that. It was a great scandal. People whispered about her for years.”

  Mrs. West smiled kindly at her before turning and leaving the room.

  Perhaps one day Scottish mothers would warn their daughters about her. Let me tell you the tale of the foolish American girl and the earl.

  She ignored her meal for the moment. Instead, she went to the secretary and pulled out a piece of her stationery. Her pen hovered over the paper, but not one word came to mind. She should apologize for Gregory’s actions and for the unfairness of his unexpected blow. She should most definitely explain about the valise. In addition, she would plead with him not to fly his airship now, at least not until he’d healed completely. She finally put the pen down and stared at the blank page.

  If she wrote what she truly wanted to say, the letter would be completely different.

  My Dearest Lennox,

  Thank you for our night together. I never knew that such pleasure was possible. I never realized that I could feel as if I belonged to someone else as well as myself.

  Thank you for teaching me to kiss, for holding me in your arms, and for making me feel as if I was the most loved woman in creation.

  I will remember you forever. No one else will ever take your spot in my heart. Even if I live to be an old woman I will never forget you.

  Please be safe. And happy. Take the very best care of yourself and if, some time, you think of me, please be kind. I never meant to hurt you.

  I love you.

  No, she wasn’t brave enough to write those things. Besides, she knew he wouldn’t read it. He would forever think that she’d used him.

  She turned her head, listening. The faint skirl of the pipes seemed almost like a hallucination at first and then the sound became louder.

  Mercy stood, walked to the window that overlooked the view of Ben Uaine. She could hear the pipes better now. Her father had once hired someone to play for her mother’s birthday to honor her Scottish heritage and Mercy had never forgotten the sound.

  “They’re not designed to be played indoors,” her mother had said later.

  Here, though, was the perfect backdrop. The piper stood on a rise in the glen. Ben Uaine absorbed the sound yet somehow amplified it. The woods filtered the notes and they sailed back to Macrory House.

  Glancing down she saw the staff coming out to watch. Not just the staff, but her relatives as well, all of them standing straight and tall, silent and respectful.

  The song was one she’d never heard before now. An almost mournful melody, it tugged at her heart. This was a different kind of music, almost savage and deeply personal. The pipes reminded her of Lennox, alone, independent, and prideful.

  “It’s the mourning,” Ruthie said, entering the room. “It’s an annual event to mark Mary Macrory’s death. They hire a piper and he plays a lament.”

  That meant that it was also the anniversary of Robert’s death.

  The sound of the pipes crept inside her heart, helping her make a decision. Perhaps it was unwise and potentially scandalous, but what did it matter now?

  She had to go to him.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The whole of Macrory House seemed to be involved in entertaining the piper. Or perhaps there was another ceremony marking Mary’s death. Her relatives were in the family parlor along with McNaughton, Mrs. West, and the senior staff—information provided by Ruthie.

  The other woman looked as if she regretted saying anything when Mercy explained her plans.

  “I have to go and see him,” she told Ruthie. “He shouldn’t be flying his airship as long as he’s injured.”

  “They’ve practically banished you as it is, Miss Mercy. Don’t give them any more reason to be upset.”

  She turned and faced Ruthie. “You have always been such a wonderful support, Ruthie. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, but this is something I have to do.”

  “Then I should go with you,” she said.

  “I’m only going to talk to him. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  How could she possibly explain herself? She couldn’t, so she left the room before Ruthie said anything else.

  No doubt Gregory had been invited into the family parlor with the rest of the family. Ever since he attacked Lennox, he’d been welcomed into the bosom of the family.

  She slipped out the kitchen entrance, grateful that the maids in the kitchen were involved in meal preparation.

  As she was heading for the walled garden something caught her eye. At first she thought it was the ghillie, the gamekeeper for her great-uncle, because of the shotgun he had slung over his shoulder. In the next instant she realized it was Gregory. She hugged the wall and watched as he kept to the path, glancing over his shoulder from time to time as though he was concerned about being followed.

  Why was he acting so furtive?

  Although her great-uncle had made a point of telling her about all the game that was raised on his land, she’d never known Gregory to have an interest in hunting. He tended to gravitate to those activities that required a group, but shooting sports had not been among them.

  She followed him at some distance, curious. After cutting through the walled garden and reaching the other side, she saw him climbing the knoll the piper had used, descending to the other side, and heading toward Ben Uaine.

  What was he doing?

  Gregory preferred attending a play to walking in the garden. Even when he came to their country home, he would rather go to a social event than take the sailboat out or explore the nearby woods.

  He wasn’t a naturalist. Why, then, was he heading toward the mountain?

  She kept to the edge of the woods, grateful that the ground had dried. She was wearing her only other pair of shoes, a sturdy black lace-up that was almost a boot. They were better than her kid slippers for tromping over the glen.

  She couldn’t figure out what Gregory was doing. Nor did she have any intention of calling out to him and letting him know that she was nearby. They were far enough away from Macrory House that they would be, essentially, alone. She didn’t trust him. Nor did she feel safe in his presence.

  He was parallel to the road now, still approaching Ben Uaine. She had reached the edge of the woods. If she wanted to remain unseen, she’d have to keep to the tall grasses.

  Did he intend to climb the mountain?

  She debated leaving Gregory to his task, whatever it was, and continuing on to Duddingston Castle. Lennox was of greater importance than her curiosity about Gregory.

  A flash of white on the side of the mountain caught her attention. She stopped and stared, knowing what she was seeing. She hadn’t been fast enough. Nor, evidently, had Irene been able to stop Lennox from his foolish flight.

  Standing in the grasses, she watched as the sails unfurled and caught the wind. For a second her heart was in her mouth as the airship dipped then righted itself.

  She’d been here before. Twice she’d looked up to see a birdlike object being launched from the side of Ben Uaine. Familiarity didn’t lessen the fear she felt.

  Gregory stopped in the middle of the road, abruptly knelt on one knee, removed the shotgun from its sling, and held it to his shoulder.

  He was going to shoot Lennox out of the sky.

  She began to run, wishing that she hadn’t kept so much distance between her and Gregory. She stumbled more than once, caught herself, grabbing her skirts
with both hands, uncaring if her unmentionables showed.

  He raised the shotgun slightly, following the path of the airship’s flight. Mercy ran as she never had before, her heart straining in her chest, her breath labored. One thought was uppermost—she had to save Lennox. She had to save Lennox.

  She thrust her arms in front of her as she lunged at Gregory. The force of their collision was enough to knock them both over, the gun clattering to the road.

  It took her a moment to get to her knees, but that was too long. Gregory had already retrieved the shotgun and was aiming it again. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around one of his legs, pulling him off balance. He stumbled, but didn’t fall.

  Desperate, she got to her feet, grabbing for his arm. If she couldn’t get the gun from him, at least she could make sure that his shot went wide.

  Lennox’s airship was getting closer and closer, low enough to be a perfect target.

  Gregory struck her with the back of his hand. Pain exploded across her face, making her take a step back. He lifted the gun again. This time when she grabbed his arm she held on.

  She saw the blow before it came. The next, however, was so fast that she didn’t have a chance to anticipate it. Gregory’s signet ring cut the corner of her mouth.

  “What a pity I didn’t know you were a whore, Mercy. We could have had some fun back in New York.”

  Lennox was landing, the boat-like carrier bouncing on the road behind them and then rolling some distance.

  Let Gregory say whatever he wanted. At least she’d prevented him from firing at Lennox.

  “What were you going to tell people, Gregory? That it was an accident? That you thought Lennox’s airship was a bird? An eagle? Do you think anyone would have believed you? Or did you think that, because you’re in Scotland you would have gotten away with murder?”

  He moved toward her again. She held up her arms to block his blow, but he didn’t get a chance to hit her. In the next instant he was on the ground, Lennox standing over him with what looked to be a piece of his airship.

  “You bloody coward.”

  When Gregory looked as if he was going to get to his knees, Lennox shoved him with his foot, then put his boot on Gregory’s back.

  “Stay down or I’ll hit you again.”

  Lennox turned to look at her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded.

  Her hair had come free of its careful bun. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her snood and now tendrils blew across her face. She pulled at the hair and tried to tuck it behind her ears.

  They made a strange tableau on the road. Lennox standing with one foot on Gregory’s back, her standing a few feet away, none of them speaking.

  “He hit you,” Lennox finally said.

  Gregory made a sound which made Lennox look down at him. He hefted the L-shaped piece of wood in his hands as if he wanted to hit Gregory again.

  “Is that part of your ship?”

  “It’s a section of the tail. It seemed handy at the time.”

  He bent and retrieved the shotgun at Gregory’s side. After inspecting it, he said, “This looks to be Douglas’s. Is your fiancé taking on murder for the Macrorys now?”

  “He isn’t my fiancé.”

  He turned and looked at her.

  “Don’t tell me you married the idiot?”

  She shook her head in exasperation, then turned and started walking.

  He caught up with her, still carrying the shotgun.

  “Mercy.”

  “You do have rocks in your head. You’re the most obstinate, infuriating man I’ve ever met. He’s not my fiancé. Nor is he my husband.”

  She kept walking.

  “Mercy.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m angry and I’m getting over being afraid.”

  “Why were you angry?”

  She stopped and stared at him. “Why was I angry? Could you shake a few of those rocks loose? Gregory tried to kill you.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  She looked down at the road. It was so much easier than looking at Lennox.

  “How did you know what he was going to do?”

  “I didn’t,” she admitted. “I was coming to find you when I saw Gregory. I followed him.”

  “Why, Mercy?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why were you coming to find me?”

  “Because I’d heard the piper,” she said, giving him the truth. “I didn’t want you to be alone today.”

  She started walking again, but he stopped her with a hand to her arm.

  “Thank you for that, too.”

  “I was also going to fuss at you,” she said. “You shouldn’t have been in your airship today. Irene said you had to have your ribs wrapped. And what about your arm? You haven’t given yourself time to heal.”

  “I’m a Scot. Do you think I’ve never hurt myself flying before?”

  “Yes, you probably have. And you probably will again. For an intelligent man you can be very foolish.” She pointed to the shotgun. “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Throw it into the loch. I figure Douglas can fish it out if he cares enough.”

  “You really don’t care if the feud continues, do you?”

  “At this point,” he said, “no. Especially after one of Douglas’s guests tried to shoot me.”

  “He might not have known anything about it.”

  “Then he was lax in showing Gregory where the gun was kept.”

  There was that. She couldn’t blame him for his irritation at Douglas or Gregory.

  “You aren’t supposed to be here,” he said. “Why haven’t you left Scotland? Or have you decided to extend your stay?”

  “Are you wanting me to leave? Or hoping I’ll remain?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  At the moment he didn’t know how to answer that question.

  Irene had told him that Mercy was remaining in Scotland although the “whole of that family don’t seem all that pleased she’s still here.”

  “So the marriage plans fell through?”

  She glanced at him. It wasn’t a friendly look.

  “Mercy.”

  He couldn’t seem to think of anything cogent to say other than her name. So many emotions flooded through him. Fury—when he’d seen Gregory strike Mercy he’d been several dozen feet in the air and unable to help her. Gratitude—that she’d been able to keep Gregory from firing at him. Confusion—that despite what he’d said to her she’d come to his aid.

  “Why were you afraid?”

  “Are you jesting?”

  “No. I want to know.”

  She just shook her head and walked away again.

  “Mercy. Stop.”

  She didn’t so he had no choice but to go after her.

  “Why, Mercy?”

  She halted, but didn’t turn.

  “Was it because of Gregory?”

  “I’m thinking you need to shake your head a bit more, Lennox. The rocks have gotten stuck. No, it was because of you. You. Just because you’re not afraid in that big, lumbering airship doesn’t mean other people aren’t afraid for you.”

  “It’s not lumbering. It’s a very sleek design.”

  She looked up at the sky, then shook her head.

  He took advantage of her silence to come and stand in front of her. He placed his hands on either side of her face and gently turned her head to examine her. Her cheek was already swelling and the cut on her mouth needed to be treated.

  “He hurt you.” The words were said with calm, but it was the last thing he was feeling. He wanted to stride back to where Gregory was getting to his feet and bash the man over the head again.

  “It’s all right, Lennox.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s not all right. He can’t be allowed to do things like that.” He stared at Gregory, now standing, long enough that Mercy put her hand on his arm.

  “He’s not worth it, Lenno
x.”

  The man deserved to be beaten into the ground.

  “Please, Lennox.”

  He finally looked at her. “You’re going to have a bad bruise.”

  “At least I won’t need stitches,” she said, smiling.

  He admired her determined effort to find some humor in this damnable situation. He wasn’t amused.

  He took her hand and turned, walking down the road.

  “This isn’t the way to Macrory House,” she said.

  “No. No, it isn’t.”

  She stopped in the middle of the road and pulled her hand back.

  “I can’t go to the castle, Lennox. That wouldn’t be wise. My family is already going to be angry at me because I came after you. I’ve been lectured to death about how I’ve scandalized the whole of Scotland with my behavior.”

  He had probably added to the treatment she’d received with his parting words. The fact that she evidently didn’t hold them against him was just one more indication of her character. A character a damn sight better than his own.

  Neither of them had been innocent that night, but society punished the female more than the male in situations like this. No one had said a word to him about his actions. He certainly hadn’t been told he’d acted scandalously.

  Still, there were other important things to consider. Namely, Mercy’s safety.

  “I don’t want you returning to Macrory House, not as long as Gregory is there. He struck you. If he did it once, he’ll do it again and it doesn’t sound like that family of yours would lift a finger to help you. If it’s within my power to protect you, I will.”

  She blinked at him. That’s all. She didn’t say a word, only grabbed his hand and held it between both of hers.

  “Do you remember why I came to Scotland?”

  “To bring your grandmother some money from your mother, as I recall.”

  “That was just an excuse,” she said. “The real reason was to obtain some freedom, if only for a little while. For once I wanted to do something on my own. Not to please someone else. Not to keep someone from getting their feelings hurt. Simply on my own.”

  “And you think that I’m taking away your freedom if I ask you to come to Duddingston.”