by Alisa Adams
The Laird look thoughtful for a moment.
"Who did you have in mind?" he asked curiously.
* * *
"Connor McPhail, Logan Fraser, any other eligible young men."
The Laird frowned disgustedly and made a gesture of dismissal with his right hand.
"Fraser! That big dour lump!" he said scornfully, "I'll not have him courting my daughter!"
Maisie sighed. It was just the reaction she had expected.
"I did not mean 'courting, 'my Laird," she replied, choosing her words carefully, "just calling upon her from time to time to ask after her. There are some young ladies who could visit too."
The Laird put his head on one side, then nodded slowly.
"I think you are right," he put his elbow on the desk and put his chin in his hand laid his chin on his hand, "she will be ready to marry again if she chooses after three months of mourning, and I believe that my Rosina is passionate and loving enough to do just that!"
He smiled at Maisie.
"You are good for her, lass. She said to me once that she could not imagine life without you."
Maisie was taken aback.
"I am flattered, sir!"
"Then go and work your magic!" he ordered, "but she must not know that I approve. She thinks her father is in his dotage and far too old for such things!"
Maisie giggled.
"Why !" my Laird, she said warmly, "you are in the prime of your life!"
Then, to her utter amazement Hugh bowed, kissed her hand, and with a twinkle in his eye said:
* * *
"Thank you, Milady!" Then he straightened up and looked at her with an expression of admiration that was absolutely unmistakable. He was flirting with her! She left very quickly indeed.
Maisie went away from the encounter with a flush in her cheeks. She felt a strange glow inside and wondered if she had imagined the last few moments. She looked at her fingertips where he had kissed her, still feeling a tingle where his lips had brushed against them. He was clean-shaven, but a man's skin was always rougher than a woman's, and she had felt a slight rasp of stubble against her fingers. She gave a little gasp. This was the Laird - her employer! Surely her wildly racing heartbeat and blushing cheeks could not have been caused by him. Then she began to count, and realized that he was not yet fifty. He was tall and upright, with a thick thatch of light brown hair that was only now beginning to be threaded with gray. There were laugh lines around his eyes and his mouth and he wore an earring in his left ear. He was a very attractive man - why had she not seen it before? Her eyes flew open as reality set in and she told herself not to be so foolish. He was her employer. He paid her salary, and that was not going to change. She reprimanded herself for her little flight of fancy then smiled. Life was hard enough - why not indulge herself with a few dreams?
Hugh was equally amazed at his own reaction. He had always admired Maisie. Everything about her was tasteful and refined. She was a talented pianist, spoke several languages fluently and had almost no local accent. She was intelligent and accomplished and had the enviable ability to do many things extremely well. She had sewed Rosina's wedding dress entirely by herself, she braided her hair and even mixed her medicines for her. She never complained, but discharged her duties in a quiet, competent way that at once made her invisible and indispensable. Then he pulled himself up short. What was he thinking? She was an upper-level servant, for goodness sake! But he felt troubled that he was so attracted to a woman who was so obviously from a lower rung of society than he was. It had never happened before, but it reminded him of one thing. His wife
* * *
had been dead for twelve years now and it was past time he took another. He was not yet an old man and he prided himself on still being, if not quite in the first flush of youth, reasonably attractive to women. He still had time to beget a few more children and he would dearly love to have a son. And Maisie was so beautiful - if he had been in a crowd of strangers and put her in an expensive dress not one of his friends would have known the difference. He shook his head as he looked out of the window, lost in thought. He stood for a long time, but eventually, he thought of other things and abandoned the little daydream. He might marry again, but there seemed to be no suitable woman in sight. But as he was falling asleep that night, hers was the last face he saw and the first one he dreamed about.
14
A Proposal
Rosina finally decided to snap out of her broodiness of her own accord. The castle was holding back any hope she had of forgetting her unpleasant memories so she decided to get away for a while. The unrest caused by the Jacobite rebellion had almost ceased, so it was safe to travel north, but two women could not do that unless accompanied by an armed escort. This her father could provide, but for some reason, he was dragging his feet. Every time Rosina asked him about lending her some of his garrison he was busy with his accounts, going to visit farmers, consulting with his stewards or going to market.
* * *
Eventually, Rosina had had enough. She burst into her father's office one day to confront him.
* * *
"Father," she said firmly, "I am here and I am not going ANYWHERE till you tell me what is going on. I have tried to speak to you six times in the last ten days and you have fobbed me off with one feeble excuse after another! Is there a reason for this? Are you angry with me?"
Hugh sat leaning his head on his hand, elbow on the desk.
"I just do not feel that you are safe," he said, avoiding her eyes.
"I have not decided where to go yet!" she stood up and spread out her hands, then leaned over to face him. "Tell me the real reason, please."
He hesitated, then looked up.
"Promise me that you will not think that I am very, very foolish for what I am about to say."
"I don't know what it is yet!" She laughed.
Again he hesitated, this time for so long that Rosina began to be alarmed.
* * *
"Father - what is wrong?" she covered his hand with hers. She was astonished at what he said next, but she did not laugh.
Hugh sat upright and looked straight into her eyes.
"Do you think that Maisie would consent to marry me?" he asked.
Rosina gasped.
"What?" her voice was a squeak, "Maisie? My Maisie?"
"Do you know any other?"
She sat back and looked at him fixedly, her eyes wide with shock. It took a moment for her to regain the power of speech.
"This is all very sudden," she said at last, "you will have to ask her, not me - but Father - why Maisie? She is a very worthy bride but I am very surprised. I thought you would have asked a gentlewoman, someone like - well, like us."
"In my eyes, she is a gentlewoman," he replied quietly. "We have both known her for a long time and I know you have always loved her as a sister. I have never thought of her as anything but your companion, but a few weeks ago she came to see me because she was worried about you, and I - I seemed to see her with new eyes. Suddenly she was not just the person who helped you, but a sweet, caring woman with a generous heart and good humor. She has many talents and accomplishments too, and I would be proud to call her my wife."
* * *
"And that is why you do not wish us to leave?"
Hugh nodded.
" I had this fanciful notion that we might have a child too," his voice was scornful, "I must forget that I ever had the notion. It is foolish."
Rosina went to him and clasped his hands in hers.
"Ask her," she said quietly, "I promise you, Father, Maisie will be honest with you. She will do what is in her heart."
* * *
At that moment there was a knock at the door and the Laird answered it. Maisie curtsied to him, blushing.
"Pardon me, Sir, I was looking for the Lady Rosina," she smiled at them both. She was wearing a bottle green riding habit and looked the epitome of elegance. Rosina looked at her father, raised her eyebrows questioningly and usher
ed Maisie into the room.
"Father wants to talk to you for a moment," she said calmly, "I will meet you in the stables."
Maisie frowned and turned to face Hugh. Since those uncomfortable few moments in his office, she had kept any meetings between them to the bare minimum and greeted him in a polite, formal tone, keeping her eyes down the whole time. Now here she was, isolated and vulnerable, in the presence of a man whom she had grown to like, if not love, and to whom she was enormously attracted. She curtsied, took one wary glance at him then lowered her gaze to the floor.
* * *
He poured a glass of whiskey for himself and offered her one.
"I don't drink whiskey during the day, my Laird," she shook her head and pushed the glass away, "and hardly ever at night unless it's a special occasion."
* * *
"It is a special occasion," he assured her. He poured her a tiny measure. She sipped it, then looked up at him, her face troubled.
"Have I done something wrong my Laird?" she asked.
"By no means, lass," he replied with a reassuring smile, "and I'm sorry if you thought that," he paused. "I wanted to ask you something."
She looked at him enquiringly.
"I would be happy to answer any question you like, my Laird," she replied.
"Maisie, are you happy here?"
Maisie's face lit up with a beaming smile.
* * *
"Very much so, my Laird," she answered' "I cannot imagine being anywhere else."
"Don't be shocked at what I am going to say now," he walked around the desk and pulled her to her feet, "Maisie, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"
Maisie's knees buckled, and if it were not for Hugh's hands grasping her upper arms she might have fallen. She stared at him for a long time, unable to speak, while he gently helped her into a chair, then she swallowed the rest of her wine in one long gulp. She put a hand on her chest, trying to stop her heart racing. Eventually, she found her voice.
* * *
"But my L-"
"Call me Hugh," he said gently, "it's my name."
"It's a fine name," she was almost crying now, "but you are my master. I cannot call you that."
"I don't want to be your master," he said gently, "I want to be your husband. I want to make you Lady Buchanan, and I want you to have my children."
Her expression softened.
"I would love to have children."
"Do you like me, Maisie?" he asked. "I don’t mean 'do you love me?' because that is too much to ask. Just tell me you like me."
"Everyone likes you, my Laird."
"But do you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then will you think about it?" he put out a hand to stroke her silky dark hair while she stood, tense and immobile. Then she grasped his wrist and took it away from her face, shaking her head.
* * *
"No, my Laird, I will not," she answered solemnly, "I thank you very much for the honor and I am extremely flattered, but while I like you very much I cannot love you. I know that few marriages are love matches, but this is something on which I cannot compromise. Please forgive me, my Laird."
He nodded slowly.
"I am sorry to have caused you such embarrassment, Maisie. Please go and enjoy your ride."
"Thank you, my Laird," she replied, then curtsied and left.
15
Logan's Thoughts
Rosina had been waiting for her at the entrance to the stables wondering what had been said and how Maisie had reacted. Knowing Maisie, she thought, she had tucked it away neatly for later consideration and no trace would show on her face. Rosina was right.
When Maisie walked over to her she did nothing out of the ordinary at all, and her face as calm as ever.
* * *
"What did my father want?" Rosina asked as they set off.
* * *
Maisie smiled at her and shook her head.
"Mistress," she said, a slight reproof in her voice, "we have known each other a long time. You know what your father wanted."
Rosina nodded slowly, looking straight ahead. When she spoke she kept her voice level and without emotion.
"I do know, but what did you say?"
"I said no!" She paused, then rushed on, "how long has he been thinking this way?"
Rosina shrugged.
"Only in the last few months, I think," she looked at Maisie keenly. "He has been lonely. He loved my mother very much," she thought for a moment, then went on: "but I think he has been looking for someone with the same qualities as she had - and you have got them."
"So I would just be a replacement," Maisie said evenly.
"He says that you are entirely different in character," Rosina looked at her, "do you think you could care for him? I do not mean 'love him' - not yet. But have enough affection for him to be his wife?
Maisie replied immediately.
"No. He is a lovely man, Mistress, but my path does not go the same way as his."
Her cheeks were flushed and there was a slight frown on her face.
"Did you tell him that?"
"Yes. It's only fair."
They rode on in companionable silence for a while, before seeing another rider in the distance trotting towards them.
"Logan Fraser," Rosina said quietly, "I wonder what he is doing here?"
Logan reined in beside them, bowed in the saddle and looked solemnly at Rosina.
"How are you, my Lady?" he asked, politely.
"Well my Laird, and you?"
"Well, thank you," he replied politely, and Rosina realized that far from being a being a man who was dour and expressionless, because he was in a constant ill-humor, he was almost painfully shy. To do what he had done for her must have been sheer agony for him, and at once her respect for him rose tenfold.
"Were you going to see my father?" she asked.
"Aye. Is he at home?" he was frowning again.
"Yes, he is," she smiled at him again and to her utter amazement and enchantment, he blushed. This tall, strong, muscular man with the strong Celtic features actually blushed like a girl.
* * *
"I-I can't stop thinking about what we did," he said painfully as if every word were being squeezed out of him. "I wondered if…" he looked up as if to seek help and his blue eyes blazed into hers with a desperate plea in them.
* * *
"If you could come and talk about it?" she asked softly, putting a hand over his on the saddle. Immediately his closed around hers in a hard,
* * *
rough grasp. "Of course you can - Father is going to be way most of next week seeing livestock in Edinburgh so it will be quiet here. Will you have time then?"
"Aye. In the afternoon."
"Say, Monday?"
"Fine, I will be there," he replied, bowing to them. "Good day, Lady Rosina, Miss."
As they rode on, Maisie asked: "was that my imagination or did he blush as red as a strawberry?"
Rosina nodded.
"He blushed, and I have never seen a man doing that before, Maisie," she looked back, but he was far away now, though she could still see the sunlight blazing on his shining black hair. "He is not moody, or difficult, or always angry. He is scared. He is very, very shy."
Rosina had no idea how scared he was. What he had done for her had not only been dangerous, it had been against every instinct he possessed. His character was to shun people, to stay in the background and keep them at a distance by presenting such a formidable face to the world that nobody wanted to even engage him in conversation. On the odd occasion when people did, he had developed the art of exchanging a few words then making a quick excuse to leave. He was dreading Monday, but he had to see Rosina again, to make some sense out of what they had done together. It all seemed like a bad dream, and indeed he was plagued with them too, nightmares in which Alasdair came back from the dead and tried to kill him with a candlestick. He sighed. Presently he got to the castle and was permitted to see Laird H
ugh. The Laird shook hands with him and offered him a glass of whisky. Again, Logan refused it.
"I am sorry, Sir, I forgot," he smiled at Logan. They had business to discuss about a piece of land that lay on the borders of both their estates and the matter may have led to tension between their houses if left unchecked. They settled their differences amicably, though, and although Hugh was uncomfortable with Logan, as indeed was everyone else he knew, he invited Logan to dinner with the family anyway. Logan raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he was always ready with a regretful reply, as he was now.
"Thank you, sir, that is kind of you, but I cannot accept," he said regretfully. "I am not dressed for the occasion," he stood up and bowed. "Another time perhaps."
* * *
"I will hold you to that," Hugh escorted him out, smiling, "we hardly ever see you. I was surprised that you were at the wedding and funeral."
"I am not a very sociable man," Logan was making every effort he could to open the door and get away, but Hugh was blocking his path.
He had better not tell him about his appointment with Rosina on Monday, he thought, or he would insist on him coming in his Great Kilt for dinner. Logan could not imagine anything he would less rather do. He edged around the Laird and opened the door, letting himself out. The Laird's manservant escorted him outside and he went to the stables to collect his horse, where he ran into Rosina and Maisie coming back from their ride. He helped Rosina to dismount then tried to say goodbye again.