Highland Rogue

by Deborah Hale

  She would be here soon. What would he do then? Cast aside the love he’d finally won, for another he had no chance of winning?

  What had come over Ewan? Had she offended him with her offer of a job?

  When she asked him, during their billiards match, he was quick to protest. “Offended? No, Claire. Honestly, I’m flattered that ye’d be willing to give me that kind of responsibility and pay me such a handsome salary.”

  Curious? He hadn’t sounded flattered when she’d first raised the idea. He’d sounded surprised, then amused by the notion. Then, suddenly, he’d gotten very quiet and thoughtful. Unlike last night, he seemed to be going out of his way to keep his distance from her.

  “You’ll do it, then?”

  He was bending over the billiard table to make a shot when she asked. His cue struck the ball with far too much force—even a beginner like her could tell. It slammed into her ball so hard that both nearly flew off the table. Ewan grumbled something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, all right?” He straightened up, holding his cue so tightly that his knuckles whitened. “Ye’ve got Tessa and me all married off and living in Argyll and making arrangements for visits. In case ye’ve forgotten, the lass is still engaged to another man!”

  “Yes, but …”

  “Ye said yerself she’s changeable in her favors. What if yer sister gets here and announces she’s come to her senses? That she’d just as soon stick with that Stanton chap, after all?”

  Could even Tessa be that foolishly fickle?

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” Relieved to discover she hadn’t damaged the fragile bond of respect and affection growing between them, Claire could speak of his eventual marriage to her sister without flinching. “You think I’ll jinx your romance with Tessa by talking as if it’s all settled?”

  “Aye.” Ewan relaxed his death grip on the billiard cue. “Something like that.”

  But there was more to it. Claire sensed a change between them that his explanation could not account for. And it was not a change for the better.

  The memory of those tumbled piles of rock that had once been homes haunted her. As did Ewan’s infamous account of how the Highlanders had been dispossessed. She’d been selfish and wasteful to hold on to Strathandrew as a way of clinging to the past and her memories of Ewan.

  “What do you say to this, then?” She forced herself to meet his shadowed gaze. “No matter what happens between you and Tessa, my offer will stand.”

  Ewan’s bold brows knit together. “It will?”

  Was this only another way of trying to hold on to him? Claire asked herself. “If it’s something you would like to do, I cannot think of a better man for the job.”

  “That is a handsome offer.” Ewan leaned against the billiard table. “Do ye need an answer from me right away?”

  Claire shook her head. “Take all the time you need.”

  “I promise ye I’ll give it serious thought.” A deep yawn followed his words. “For now, though, I’m ready to call it a night, if ye don’t mind. I’m not used to tramping the hills in the fresh air like I once did.”

  Stifling a pang of disappointment, Claire feigned a little yawn of her own. “Nor am I. A good night’s sleep sounds like a fine idea.”

  If only she could be certain of getting one.

  Ewan replaced his cue on the rack. “I thought I’d do a little fishing tomorrow. Would ye care to join me?”

  “Do you really want me to?” Would it be possible to recapture the easy camaraderie they’d shared earlier today?

  For a moment, he hesitated. But when he answered, Claire could not doubt the ring of sincerity in his voice.

  “Aye, I do. I wouldn’t have enjoyed myself half so well today if ye hadn’t come.”

  “Thank you, again, for inviting me.” Claire moved toward the rack and replaced her billiard cue. Her path took her within a hairbreadth of Ewan. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself so much.”

  She had never been an impulsive person. After rescuing Tessa from several scrapes into which impulsiveness had landed her, Claire was more than ever inclined to weigh her decisions and act upon them in a restrained, prudent manner. But as she brushed past Ewan, determined to leave the room first rather than be deserted by him, a compelling impulse seized her.

  One she was powerless to resist.

  Leaning toward him as she passed, she surged up on her tiptoes and grazed his cheek with her lips. “Good night, Ewan.”

  Before his subtle scent intoxicated her into doing something even more reckless, she fled the room and did not look back.

  “What was that all about?” Ewan murmured to himself. Pressing his hand to his cheek where Claire had kissed him, he listened to her footsteps retreating up the staircase.

  Glenna McMurdo peeped around the door frame. “What was all what about?”

  “None of yer business, missy!” With a guilty start, Ewan snatched his hand away from his face. But where Claire’s lips had brushed, his cheek stung like fury. “What are ye doing, sneaking around, anyway?”

  “Sneaking, indeed?” Glenna crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, the way she’d often done as a child when he’d teased her. “I’ll have ye know I’m busy cleaning up after yer fine dinner!”

  The seething stew of contrary feelings inside him vented in a burst of laughter. It was good to know at least one person at Strathandrew was not awed or resentful of his new status as a guest of the family.

  “A fine dinner it was, lass. Tell yer ma I said so. Well served, too.”

  Glenna cocked her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Why don’t ye come down and tell her yerself? She felt that bad about shooing ye out when she was fixing dinner last night. It’s just that she was so nervous with Monsieur Anton hanging about.”

  Ewan shook his head. “I should have known better than to get in the way at a busy time like that.”

  “It’s not busy now,” said Glenna. “Just me and Maizie in the scullery doing dishes. Ma’d love a wee visit with ye.”

  “What about Mrs. A?” He didn’t fancy another run-in with the housekeeper.

  “Gone to bed early with a headache,” said Glenna. “Not much wonder she’s got one, clenching her teeth the way she has since ye got here.”

  “Fack and Fergus?” He didn’t want to go where he wasn’t wanted.

  “Taking advantage of Mrs. A’s indisposition to pop into the village for a pint with the crew from the Marlet.” Glenna planted her hands on her hips the way Ewan had often seen her mother do. “Now, are ye going to come and have a cup of tea with Ma, or is Fergus right and ye’ve gotten too grand for us?”

  “He says that?”

  Glenna shrugged as she headed back into the dining room. “Mutters it under his breath, but nobody pays him any mind. Ma says he took it hard when ye left.”

  Ewan followed her. “All the more reason he should welcome me back.”

  “Ye can’t always tell how folks feel by the way they act.” Glenna piled the last few pieces of china and cutlery onto a tray. “Like Miss Talbot.”

  “What’s Claire … I mean, Miss Talbot, got to do with this?” Ewan demanded.

  Glenna rolled her eyes. “Do ye not recollect how she used to fuss at ye all the time?”

  “Aye.” He tried to help Glenna clear the table, but she waved him away. “The two of us were like oil and water back then. We’ve both done a bit of growing up in the meantime.”

  If only he’d realized that before he’d set about pursuing his boyhood dream of winning her sister.

  “It’s more than a bit of growing up.” Glenna hoisted her tray and headed for the kitchen. “Make yerself useful by catching doors for me, will ye?”

  Ewan hurried to keep ahead of her as she strode toward the back stairs. “I don’t know what ye’re talking about, lass. Are ye sure ye do?”

  “Aye. I knew what was what when I was eight years old, watchi
ng the pair of ye. Claire Talbot fancied ye, but ye wouldn’t look at her twice unless she insulted ye to get yer attention.”

  “Ye’re daft!” Ewan staggered on the stairs and barely escaped rolling all the way to the bottom.

  “I’m not the one falling down stairs, am I?”

  “That had nothing to—”

  Glenna acted as if she didn’t hear his protest. “Lads do it all the time—pulling yer braids, threatening to put bugs on ye, acting the fool—anything to get ye to pay them some mind.”

  Her words struck Ewan dumb, for he recalled doing some of those things to make Tessa notice him.

  “Most lasses are clever enough to know what it means.” Glenna breezed into the servants’ hall, heading for the scullery. “When the shoe’s on the other foot, and one of them is trying to make a lad take notice, it’s hopeless.”

  Claire? Sweet on him? Ewan could not have been more disoriented if he had fallen down the back stairs and landed on his head. Part of him continued to insist that Glenna was talking nonsense. Another part was not so sure.

  “Mam,” Glenna called out, “I’ve fetched ye some company!”

  “Company?” Rosie emerged from the scullery, drying her hands on her apron.

  When she spied Ewan, she held her arms open to him. “Come sit by the fire and have a cup of tea with me, lad, and let me look ye over proper. Did ye have a good dinner?”

  “Topping, Rosie.” He stumbled into her embrace, then let her lead him into the servants’ hall. “You’ll have seen for yerself, we all but licked the plates clean.”

  “Aye, it’s good to see ye have an appetite.”

  “The lunch ye packed for us was fine, too. If I’m not careful, they’re going to have to widen the doors to let me out when it comes time to leave.”

  Rosie gave him a gentle cuff on the arm, then dropped into her rocking chair by the hearth. “Get away with ye. I’d be well enough pleased if ye put on a pound or two. Now sit yerself down and tell me what ye’ve been doing in America to make all that money. It’s legal, I hope.”

  “Aye, Rosie, all legal.” Ewan laughed as he settled himself into the armchair beside her. He knew a few captains of industry who could not make that claim. “Just a lot of hard work and a wee bit of luck.”

  “I hope ye could spare what ye sent us, lad.”

  “Oh aye,” Ewan assured her, though without quite as clear a conscience as he’d avowed his honesty.

  The little bit he’d sent in those early years had sometimes been a sacrifice. But he’d been glad to do it just the same, to put Rosie’s mind at ease about him, and to feel a connection to home. He hadn’t missed much larger sums he’d sent in recent years.

  As Rosie had bidden him, he told her about America, minimizing his early hardships and homesickness. She told him about all the doings on the estate and in the village. Except for everyone growing older, little appeared to have changed in the ten years he’d been gone.

  While part of his attention was fixed on their conversation, another part of his mind pondered Glenna’s preposterous claim that Claire Talbot had once fancied him.

  “What about ye, lad?” asked Rosie when she’d finished reciting a list of couples who’d gotten married in the past ten years. “Have ye got a sweetheart back in America?”

  “N-no.” The question caught him off guard. “Been too busy to do much courting.” His conscience prodded him to mention Tessa, but he could not get the words out.

  “So that’s why ye came home!” Rosie beamed. “Ye’ve got yerself all set up and now ye want to find a wife.”

  Before he could do more than open and close his mouth like a freshly netted loch trout, Glenna appeared from the kitchen bearing a tray of tea and oat cakes. “If Ewan’s going to find himself a wife, he’ll need to get better at recognizing when a lass has a fancy for him.”

  Giving an exasperated shake of her head, she set the tea tray down on a small table beside her mother’s chair. “When I told him Miss Talbot used to be all calf-eyed for him, he wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Tell yer daughter she’s daft, Rosie.” Now that he’d begun to mull over the notion, Ewan could not summon quite the same degree of certainty.

  “Do ye mean ye never knew?” Rosie poured his tea, then added a wee dollop of cream and a single small lump of sugar, just the way he liked it.

  When she saw from his face that he was in earnest, she treated him to a look that mingled amusement and pity. “The poor lass took it so hard when ye went away. I don’t think she ever knew it was her father’s doing.”

  Ewan took a sip of the hot strong tea. It felt as though his world had shifted, changing the landscape in ways he could not recognize.

  “Speaking of weddings …” Glenna passed the plate of oat cakes to Ewan. “Geordie Cameron and Winnie MacLeod are getting married tomorrow. That’s why the men all went down to the village for a pint, to help Geordie celebrate.”

  “I’m glad to hear they’re getting along better than they used to at school.” Ewan chuckled. “I remember the time Geordie dipped the end of one of her braids in the master’s inkwell. Winnie gave him a black eye for his pains.”

  His own words fairly clouted him in the stomach.

  “Oh aye.” Glenna’s pretty mouth stretched into a wide grin. “That’s the way of it sometimes. The MacLeods are having a ceilidh tomorrow night to celebrate the wedding, and a bunch of us from Strathandrew are going. Why don’t ye come along? I’m sure Geordie and Winnie would be glad to see ye.”

  “Aye,” Ewan nodded, taking another long sip of his tea. “I just might.”

  If he could convince Claire to come as his guest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You want me to go where?”

  Claire’s cast went awry, sending her line flailing in Ewan’s direction. The hook snagged his cloth cap and jerked it off his head into the river.

  He let out a whoop of surprise followed by great rolling gusts of laughter that threatened to knock him off his feet.

  “If ye’d rather not come to the ceilidh with me, just say so, lass!” he gasped between heaves of laughter. “Ye don’t have to try and drown me!”

  Suddenly the mild morning air felt icy cold against her blazing cheeks. A dozen years seemed to have melted away, and she was sixteen again. Only this time the handsome young gillie was paying attention to her.

  Reeling her line back toward shore, she masked her flustered feelings with a tart answer. “You don’t look in much danger of drowning to me. And if you had taken a tumble into the water, it would have served you right for ruining my cast by popping a question out of the blue like that!”

  “Popping the question?” Ewan chuckled as he waded into the shallows to retrieve his cap. “I could understand that throwing yer cast off, or making you want to drown me for my presumption. But I was only inviting ye to a party in the village.”

  He disengaged her hook from the sturdy tweed, then shook the cap off and put it back on his head. “It’s to celebrate the wedding of a couple of my old schoolmates. Geordie and Winnie used to fight like cats and dogs when they were younger. Almost as bad as ye and me at that age.”

  His words made Claire fumble her fly rod. Did the man realize what he’d said?

  He was certainly in a chipper mood this morning. A good night’s sleep seemed to have banished the strange awkwardness that had possessed him so suddenly last night. Or perhaps it was being back on the river with a rod in his hand. The friendly gurgle of the water seemed to invite a person to cast her worries off and let the current float them away.

  Spellbound, Claire watched the lithe grace of his line whisking out and back over the water, tempting the hungry fish to snap at his lure. Was he casting bait for her, too, with this tempting invitation and his provocative remarks? And if so … what was he fishing for?

  The past several days had been the happiest of her life. Even the knowledge that it could end at any moment did not spoil her enjoyment of their time together, but add
ed a sweet poignancy that made her savor it all the more.

  But beneath the surface of her happiness, a treacherous current of yearning tugged at her. The yearning for something more than a few days of make-believe. With his charm, Ewan made her want it. With his kindness, he made her believe she might deserve it.

  “Do wish your friends every happiness for me,” she said when she had finally mastered her voice. “But please don’t feel obliged to cart me along. You’re here as my guest, not as a hired companion.”

  Ewan turned his head to answer, but at that moment a fish decided it liked the looks of his dry fly, and latched on. Claire set aside her own rod to fetch the net. Then she perched herself on a large rock to watch the fight.

  A strenuous battle it was, too, on both sides. More than once Claire thought the fish must have got away, only to see the line stretch taut again. More than once she lunged forward with the net, only to watch a silvery form slither out of the shallows to fight on.

  By the time he landed the creature, all twenty squirming pounds of it, Ewan’s face was flushed and his forehead beaded with sweat. He subsided onto the rock where Claire had been sitting to watch him.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, shall we?” He pulled off his cap and dragged his forearm across his brow. “This shouldn’t be an obligation … for either of us. I’ve enjoyed yer company the past few days. Am I fooling myself to believe ye enjoyed mine?”

  Claire kept her eyes fixed on the river, not daring to meet his discerning gaze in case hers should betray her. But she could not bring herself to tell him any less than the truth. “You aren’t fooling yourself, Ewan. I’ve had a perfectly marvelous time with you.”

  She congratulated herself on keeping her voice steady.

  “Well, that’s fine, then.” He lunged sideways, catching her hand in his. “We’ll have some more marvelous time tonight. Have ye ever been to a Highland ceilidh?”

  There was something different about the way he held her hand. Or was she only fooling herself? Either way, she could not shake off his touch.

  “It’s a party, isn’t it? Like the gillies’ ball Father used to give at the end of the hunting season?”