Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires)

by Suz deMello

  Except Dugald, whose frown increased with every step of his horse’s hooves.

  She sighed, aware that the next couple of days would be trying. She’d meet her laird and lady. And the children, her charges. She hoped they’d be agreeable.

  They crossed the drawbridge and dismounted, with a grateful Alice praying she’d not have to ride a horse again for a good long time. She petted Mary’s mane and said goodbye. “I won’t be seeing you for a while, girl.”

  Mary’s ears flicked back and forth and she turned her head, no doubt searching for a cozy stall with a full manger.

  “Och,” said a deep male voice. “Cousin, have ye brought us a governess who talks to animals? She’ll be good with the bairns, especially Isobel.”

  Dugald turned. “Milaird.” He embraced a midnight-haired giant, fully as tall as he and even more broad.

  “Another Sassenach lass! Dugald, what were ye thinking? We’ll be overrun!” Laird Kieran bent his head toward Alice.

  She quailed as a petite, dark-haired lady elbowed the giant in the side. She had an hourglass figure and a ring of keys—the chatelaine’s keys—at her waist. “Hush, Kieran, you’re frightening the girl. Welcome, Mistress Derwent, to Kilburn Castle.”

  “You must be Lady Lydia.” Legs stiff, Alice curtseyed awkwardly.

  Dugald cleared his throat. “She’s actually Mistress Kilburn.”

  Both milaird and milady turned and stared, first at Dugald, then at Alice.

  Finally milaird spoke. “That was quick work. Meal a’ naidheachd to ye both.” He gave Alice a courtly bow.

  “Yes, congratulations.” Lady Lydia looked a bit dazed, but soon recovered. “And do come inside. You must want a bath. Does she have clean clothes?” She eyed Dugald with a stern gaze.

  “Yes, Lady Kilbirnie was very kind,” Alice said.

  A crease appeared between milady’s dark brows. “You were supposed to buy her proper clothing,” she said to Dugald. “Not take from the Kilbirnies, cousins though they are.”

  “I did, but we were attacked on the road.” Dugald glanced at milaird.

  “Oh, dear.” Milady sighed. “There they go again.”

  “What, milady?” Alice asked.

  “Dugald and Kieran talk without speaking. ‘Tis most irritating.”

  “They must know each other well.”

  “Like brothers. Come.” She led Alice to one of the three towers that sat at each point of the triangular, high-walled bailey. One, the closest to the sea, was a ruin, its parapets crumbling. The others seemed to be in good repair and in use. “The old keep.” She pointed to the ruin. “Never enter it—’tis forbidden, and very dangerous.”

  They walked through one tower’s open doors. “This is the Laird’s Tower,” Lydia said. “We—the family—live here, with storage above. The third tower is the Garrison Tower, where our personal guards and the castle servants reside. That’s where the kitchens are and the Great Hall, where we take our meals.”

  Alice drew a deep breath. “And the children?”

  “They live with us, of course. We have a floor in the Laird’s Tower and Dugald lives above. You’ll live with him, since you’re handfasted. Otherwise I was planning you’d live in the nursery.”

  “I’m sorry about the change—”

  “Not at all. It’s as though…I hope I am not too forward to say it’s as though I’ve gained a sister—or at least a friend—rather than a governess.” A slight blush staining her cheeks, Lady Lydia finished her thought in a rush and peered at Alice through a lock of curly hair that had come loose.

  Alice pressed a hand to her heart. “You’re so kind. I’m overwhelmed. I’ve been overwhelmed, I think, since Dugald hired me.”

  “And how did that come about?” Lydia led the way to Dugald’s rooms, which were across an entry hall and up two flights of stairs. “He sent us a message that was rather short on detail.”

  “We met at a mop fair.”

  “Yes, ‘twas my idea to send Dugald to the Glasgow mop fair. I felt sure he’d find the right governess there. And he got a little more than he had bargained for, hmm?”

  Alice managed an uneasy laugh. “Getting handfasted wasn’t anything either of us expected.”

  Lydia laughed. “I need not ask why the handfasting came about, though I must say I am surprised. Surprised but pleased.”

  “I want you to know, milady, I’m not…um, loose.” Following Lady Lydia, Alice climbed the stairs.

  “I know that. Dugald would not have hired a lightskirt to teach our children. And I can see by your manner and appearance you’re well-bred.” Lydia fixed Alice with intelligent brown eyes. “But I have observed that if one of the Kilburn men wants something—or someone—they usually get it. Or her, as the case may be.”

  “Indeed, I would not have… ’Twas an odd situation,” Alice said, finishing lamely.

  “I can guess that there’s a story here. The attack on the road?”

  She nodded her head, wondering if she should tell the story to Lady Lydia, or if the news should properly come from Dugald.

  Lady Lydia scrutinized her again. “Your mouth has gone tight and your eyes sad. I think we shall allow Dugald to talk of that particular event. But I trow that the…um, stress of the events threw the two of you together?”

  Relief flooded Alice. Lady Lydia understood. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I was sure we were going to die.”

  “Oh, my. Well, I am sure we will hear the whole quite soon.” Lydia opened an iron-bound wooden door and ushered Alice inside. The room was spare but adequate. On one wall was a small hearth with kindling already laid for a fire. In the center of the room, its headboard against one wall, a four-poster bed was draped with heavy, dark-red bed curtains. Having been told over and over about the harsh Highland winters, Alice was pleased to see them. She walked over and tested the mattress, which seemed comfortable. Tapestries covered much of the stone walls along with only a single narrow wardrobe and a small table on which sat a bowl, a ewer and some linen towels. Alice gathered that was where Dugald washed. Rugs lay on the smooth wooden floor.

  “Expected or not, your handfasting does require that this place be made more livable.” Lydia frowned as she looked about the room. “You’ll need another wardrobe, I am sure, and a dresser. The garderobe is down the hall—”

  Alice gasped.

  Lydia grinned. “Precisely my reaction. I remember the moment well. Kieran had told me that I’d be living in a medieval castle, but I never grasped it until I first used…uh, the facilities.”

  She managed a chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll adjust. I have been living on the road for a few weeks.”

  “Ah, yes. A bath, I am sure, would be welcome.”

  “Actually, I enjoyed one at MacReiver Castle.”

  “I should have guessed. Our foster son is a fine host. So your journey today was short, but that riding habit must certainly want attention.”

  Alice glanced down. Though her beautiful green habit had been cleaned at Kilbirnie and no longer stank of the Beans’ cave, the long weeks of travel had taken their toll on it. “Yes, it does, but I fear I must wait until the rest of my luggage is brought up.”

  “In that case, let us speak of the children. Shall we go downstairs and enjoy a spot of tea? I asked Dugald to bring some back.”

  “I could have been drinking tea every morning?” Alice huffed. “That wretch. He never told me.”

  Laughing, Lydia led Alice to the solar, one floor down, where they found a servant dusting. “Ah, Fenella,” Lydia said. “Would you be so kind as to bring elevenses? And a cup for yourself. This is Mistress Alice, the children’s new governess, and she’ll want your opinion as well. About the children.”

  “Welcome to Kilburn.” Fenella, a chubby older woman dressed in gray, smiled and left.

  “Fenella runs the castle most ably. She leaves me little to do except tend to the children, but now that we have four, we felt we needed a bit of help.” Lydia gestured toward a window embrasu
re.

  Alice sat on the cushioned stone bench set in the nook. “Where are the children now, milady?”

  Lydia settled herself into a nearby armchair. “Marian, the baby, is asleep, as is my four-year-old, Carrick. And I must admit that I am not sure where Isobel and Ranald might be. They’re eleven and seven, and a handful, especially Isobel. They are probably out riding.”

  “Have they had lessons before, milady?”

  “Yes, of course, until I was close to bearing Marian. In about my seventh month, I became very tired and, I’m afraid, let matters go. We still read with them when they go to sleep, and Kier teaches Ranald his sums, for he will one day manage the clan. Mathematics is crucial.” Lydia’s glance was sharp.

  Alice nodded. “I understand. Master Ranald must learn everything he will need to know when he becomes laird. I will ask milaird what that is.”

  “Carrick also. Kier was born the second son but nevertheless is laird. It is unpleasant to consider, but anything might happen.”

  Alice tapped her booted toe on the polished wood floor. “So it’s more important for the boys to learn, but the girls…”

  “I hesitate to say that book learning is unimportant, but many of the skills you’ll teach Isobel are less tangible. Yes, we wish her to learn watercolors, drawing and French conversation, but she must also gain the skills necessary to act as a laird’s consort. For she is affianced to Edgar, Laird MacReiver, and she will bear many responsibilities. Managing a castle is not easy.”

  Alice had never thought that a lord’s wife—or a laird’s—carried many responsibilities, but Lady Lydia seemed accomplished, and the keys at her waist said that she was a busy woman. P’raps matters here in the Highlands were different from in England, where a lord’s wife had but two duties—produce an heir and a spare.

  “She will certainly need to learn mathematics, far more than merely simple sums. Dugald’s letter said that you are the daughter of a professor and quite learned.”

  Alice swallowed. “Learned would be an exaggeration, I fear, compared to many I have met. My father was a chemist, so mathematics has been an interest and of course I understand Latin and French. We brought watercolors and charcoals from Glasgow and the children will enjoy them, I think. Whilst we were riding this morn, I saw many beautiful vistas to paint.”

  Fenella brought in the tea tray and Alice said, “Milady, you seem to have special concerns about Isobel. What manner of child is she?”

  Fenella snorted and exchanged a glance with Lady Lydia. “If I may, milady…”

  “Certainly.”

  The housekeeper poured tea and handed a cup to Alice. “Young Lady Isobel, unfortunately, knows exactly who she is.”

  “Plato felt that self-knowledge was most important. He often quoted Socrates on the subject.” Alice sipped her tea slowly, savoring the hot, strong brew.

  “Neither of those gentlemen were acquainted with our Isobel, the daughter of a laird who has been affianced to a laird all her life.” Lydia took her teacup from Fenella with a smile.

  “So she is basically a…princess.” Alice hesitated. She did not want to use the words “haughty” and “imperious” when she had not yet met Isobel, but was afraid the descriptions might apply. Instead she said, “Please go on.”

  “Yes. And she was our firstborn. Naturally everyone in the clan was over the moon about her. So she’s grown up a little spoiled.”

  “Och, just a mite.” Fenella sat and stirred her tea.

  Feeling her way, Alice asked, “When asked to perform an unpleasant task, what does she do?”

  “She can produce any variety of responses. She can disappear most cleverly, leaving the rest of us to search the castle and the lands—”

  Alice raised a brow.

  “Yes, she often takes off with one of the horses, usually one she has been forbidden to ride. Or she may take it in her head to explore the old keep which is, as I said, very dangerous. When she is especially angry, she may still cry and stamp her foot.”

  “Tantrums.” Inside, Alice was quaking. She had no idea what to do with an angry little princess. “What would your advice be?”

  “Find me.” Lydia’s answer was swift. “Or Kier. As far as Isobel is concerned, the sun rises and sets on her father. Her Uncle Dugald too, for that matter.”

  “So she gets along with men better than women.” Alice had previously noted the phenomenon. “Well, I cannot change my gender, nor do I wish to. But I would like to teach Isobel without having to depend upon you or milaird. I’m sure you both must be busy—”

  “Don’t hesitate.” Lydia set her hand on Alice’s knee, startling her. But milady’s eyes were serious. “Yes, our other duties are important, but the children are paramount. Because we are the laird’s family, you understand? Isobel and Ranald hold the future of two clans, not just one, in their hands.”

  Footsteps thumped along the floor and two children rushed in, black hair tangled, clothes muddy, voices raised. The boy shouted, “Mummy! Isobel—”

  “Tattle-tale!” The girl sneered.

  “Am not!“

  “Are too!”

  Lady Lydia rose and clapped her hands once, twice, thrice. The children immediately fell silent. “They know that more than three claps means a whipping,” she told Alice. “What is it you must tell me, Ranald?” she asked the boy.

  He looked up at her, then down, and scuffed his battered shoe along a crack in the floor, shooting a resentful sideways glare at his sister. Along with the Kilburn trademarks of dark hair and fair skin, he bore a red mark on his cheek and battered knuckles.

  Even at age eleven, Isobel Kilburn was one of the most striking girls Alice had laid eyes upon. Long hair, black as midnight, fell tangled and curly to her waist, having pulled free from her braid. Alice wondered if that pale skin’s perfection would survive adolescence. Snapping black eyes and a strong chin told of a fierce temper.

  Broken, dirty fingernails and trews torn at the knee said that this tomboy needed taming. Alice was certain she was not equal to the task, but decided she’d settle for an hour or two daily of Isobel’s unbroken attention to lessons.

  “Ranald, I asked you a question. Or Isobel, would you prefer to tell me Ranald’s news?” Lady Lydia stood, her expression stern.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Isobel’s voice was firm but her nervousness was betrayed by twitching fingers clutching the hem of her blouse. “I, er, took out Cloud.”

  “I see.” Milady remained calm while Fenella gasped and Alice waited. She guessed that Cloud was not Isobel’s usual mount.

  “It was fine! I got up early and took him to the standing stones. I would have got away with it but he saw me return.” She flung a scornful glance at her brother. “And naturally he had to tell everyone.”

  “And?” Lady Lydia tapped an elegantly shod toe.

  “We, umm…” Isobel’s head drooped and her voice lowered, so Alice hadn’t the slightest notion of what she’d said.

  “What?”

  “We fought!” Isobel’s head jerked up and she glared at her mother.

  “Who started it?”

  “He did!”

  “Did not!”

  “Did so! You tried to pull me off Cloud.”

  “You werenae s’posed to be on Cloud!”

  “Does it really matter who threw the first punch?” Alice asked. “Surely each will accuse the other, and if no one else saw…”

  “You’re right,” Lydia said. “It doesn’t matter who started it. You’ll both be punished.”

  “Who are you?” Isobel demanded, frowning at Alice.

  “Manners, Isobel! This is Mistress Alice.” Lydia hesitated briefly, then said, “She’s handfasted with your Uncle Dugald, and she’s to be your governess.”

  Both children turned wide, curious gazes on her. Isobel was the first to recover her wits. “Aren’t you our auntie as well as our governess?”

  Alice was dazed. “Well, yes, I suppose I am.”

  “Good morrow, Auntie
Alice.” Isobel did not curtsey but continued to eye Alice with suspicion.

  “Good morrow, Auntie Alice.” Ranald gave a little bow.

  “Thank you, Ranald.” Alice turned to Isobel. “I can’t imagine ‘tis easy to curtsey in trews. All the more reason to wear a skirt.”

  Isobel snorted with clear disgust.

  Alice went on. “As I understand it, we must study mathematics, Latin and French.”

  The children looked alarmed.

  “But we’ll start with English and drawing. P’raps a little history. Do you know the history of your clan? Of Scotland?”

  “Of course,” Ranald said instantly.

  “Da and Uncle Dugald tell stories of the clan every night after dinner,” Isobel told her.

  “Very well. We can trade stories while we’re drawing. I’ll tell you what I know of history, and you can tell me what you know. If we need to consult a book, well, then we shall.”

  “In the meantime,” Lady Lydia said, “both of you are confined to your rooms for the rest of the day. I do not expect to see either of you until supper, when you will appear in the Great Hall, bathed and wearing clean clothes.”

  The children disappeared and Alice asked, “Will they obey?”

  Lydia pressed her lips together. “I expect so. In general they understand when they’re stepping too close to the line, so to speak. Even Isobel. In the meantime, let’s get you settled into Dugald’s rooms. Fenella, please ask Grizel to help Alice today. She can show her around, help her to get her things unpacked and so on.”

  Lydia smiled at Alice, who understood she’d been given her schedule for the day. She rose and accompanied Fenella to the next tower over—the Garrison Tower, if Alice remembered correctly. On the way, she noticed that guardsmen were already carrying her things upstairs. To Dugald’s room, she imagined—now her room also.

  The thought gave her an excited little thrill. Other than her father, who really didn’t count, she had never shared close quarters with a man and had never expected to do so.

  In the Garrison Tower, she followed Fenella through the aptly named Great Hall. A massive structure beamed with roughly hewn logs, it featured a huge fireplace that dominated one wall. A pot stood bubbling on the hearth, ready for luncheon, she guessed. A couple of men in black shirts and trews were seated at a table placed above the rest, talking quietly and drinking ale—Dugald and milaird. As she passed, he lifted his head and gave her a brief nod.