Her complexion seemed soft and prettily coloured. Perhaps it was true, as his mother had claimed, that the mist and rain of the Scottish climate preserved the skin.
Rupert bowed over her hand as faint memories of a much earlier encounter came to him.
“Were you not at Castle Fitzalan for an archery contest when I was a small boy, Lady Bruce?”
She gave him a delightful smile.
“Fancy you remembering! There must have been a dozen of us there.”
“But you won, did you not?”
He smiled back at her, all at once feeling at home in this light-filled room lined with paintings and furnished in chintz-covered chairs and sofas.
Lady Bruce laughed.
“Yes, and I was proud to do so. For your mother ran me a close finish.”
She looked at him with genuine sympathy.
“I was so sorry to hear of her death. I did not know her well, but I liked her style. And your father and I spent some very pleasant times hunting together.”
Rupert nodded, unexpectedly touched.
He had not expected to find anyone who had known his parents, and he could not help speculating what Lady Bruce’s relationship with the MacLean’s might be and how soon he could bring up the name of Celina Stirling.
“Now, please sit down, Lord Fitzalan.”
She waved a hand at an armchair.
“I think you have met my goddaughter – ”
A twinkle lit her pale blue eyes as a figure that had been standing unnoticed in the corner of the room behind Rupert came forward.
Celina Stirling was not smiling.
Dressed in a similar style to Lady Bruce in a heathery tweed that complemented her red hair, which was drawn back with a brown bow, she looked as though she would rather be anywhere than here.
Rupert stretched out his hand and then withdrew it as she immediately placed her hands behind her back.
“Celina!” barked her Godmother. “Don’t make me ashamed of you.”
The girl flushed, the colour highlighting her fine bone structure.
Rupert realised that this was the first time he had had the opportunity to see her in daylight.
The first magical impression he had formed of her was instantly confirmed.
“I am afraid you must think me a desperate rascal,” he began, trying to hold the gaze of those huge green eyes with his. “Why you felt you had to rescue me, I cannot imagine, but I don’t think I will ever be able to show you how grateful I am.”
A stubborn look came over Celina’s face.
“I told you, it was a matter of honour – ”
“Please – ” urged Rupert, wondering how he was to get through to her. “Will you not sit and tell me why the Fitzalans have incurred such enmity from your family?”
She gave him another stubborn look.
“You warned me that your uncle and cousin would make another attempt to kidnap me and I have to tell you that yesterday they did.”
At that her eyes flashed.
“But they did not succeed?”
“You see me standing here before you.”
“It’s more than I expected – ”
She spoke with reluctant admiration and came to sit in a chair on the other side of the room.
“I do hope you will tell Celina and me exactly what happened,” Lady Bruce commented encouragingly. “The MacLeans are old friends of mine and their actions distress me more than I can say.”
She laid a sympathetic hand on Celina’s.
“You acted with great courage, my dear.”
“She did indeed,” concurred Rupert.
Then in his best matter-of-fact manner, he briefly told them of the ambush he had escaped the previous day.
Celina’s gaze never left him as he spoke.
Her figure was rigid and the fingers of one hand beat a silent rhythm on the arm of her chair.
Everything about her spoke of her distaste for the gory details, but whether it was because of her relations’ conduct or his, he found it was impossible to determine.
“You say you were shot at?” Lady Bruce reacted in horror when he reached that point in his tale. “You were not, I hope, hit?”
“A flesh wound, nothing more. I rather think it was because they could see I was getting away – it was a last desperate attempt to bring me down. Thanks to Prince, my splendid horse, they could not catch me after that.”
Celina closed her eyes.
Lady Bruce patted her hand.
“We must be grateful to have Lord Fitzalan sitting with us, hale and hearty.”
“What I don’t understand,” questioned Rupert, “is why the MacLeans are that intent on kidnapping me. Do they really think that they can force me to give them this heirloom they are so desperate to possess? And what is the heirloom? I know nothing about it.”
Lady Bruce looked towards Celina, but the girl said nothing, so she gave a deep sigh and answered,
“Lord Fitzalan, the MacLean feud with your family dates back for hundreds of years. On top of that Lord MacLean and your grandfather were in love with the same girl.
“Stella was very beautiful and at first she seemed to favour Lord MacLean. They were both seventeen, full of passion and spirit and the engagement was announced.
“Suddenly, however, it was broken off and Stella was to marry your grandfather instead.
“He was ten years older than Robbie MacLean and he looked much as you do now, but I don’t think looks had anything at all to do with it. I do suspect it was a matter of personality and no one knows exactly what happened, but since then there was a deep enmity between the two men.”
“I think I can understand, and if I was engaged to a beautiful girl I was passionately in love with and suddenly an older man whipped her away from me, I would feel desperate!”
Rupert looked at Celina and knew that he spoke no more than the truth.
A terrible pain filled his heart.
He had never met a girl who moved him the way she did, but he had also never met a girl who looked at him with such hate and despair in her eyes.
“Lord Fitzalan stole my uncle’s bride away from him,” Celina added fiercely. “He wooed her with promises of a better life and with worldly possessions.”
Lady Bruce shook her head.
“The MacLeans have always had more money than the Fitzalans.”
Celina seemed to struggle with herself.
“My uncle did suffer reversals in his fortune some years ago. I believe he needs extra funds that will enable him to mend matters.”
“Well then, tell him to look elsewhere than Castle Fitzalan,” Rupert burst out before he could contain himself.
Celina raised her eyes and shot him an angry look.
He cursed himself for his too-quick tongue – then wondered again why she should have freed him when the MacLeans had him in their power.
Lady Bruce held up her hand.
“Let’s not quarrel. Celina, have you any idea what this heirloom is that Lord MacLean is so certain has been stolen from his family?”
Celina shook her head.
“I know nothing of it, Aunt Margaret. Uncle Robert has called it a treasure brought back from the Crusades and says that he is certain it is in Castle Fitzalan, and that it was stolen from the MacLeans way back by a jealous Laird.”
Lady Bruce studied her for a moment.
“I assume that it is because the state of his finances have worsened that Lord MacLean only recently seems to have been asking for this heirloom’s return?”
“He has done more than ask, Lady Bruce,” chipped in Rupert grimly. “Duncan, my grandfather’s retainer, says that several times he and my grandfather were threatened by MacLean Clansmen turning up at Castle Fitzalan and demanding entrance. Only the use of a blunderbuss sent them away!”
“And you complain that you were shot at!” Celina threw the words at him.
“In both cases, it was the MacLean’s who were the aggressors,” Rupert shot ba
ck.
Lady Bruce sighed.
“You two are both as bad as children, arguing about something you know nothing about. Lord Fitzalan, are you certain that you don’t know of anything at your Castle that could be identified as this heirloom?”
Rupert shook his head, wondering if this was the real reason Lady Bruce had invited him to visit her.
Was she attempting to obtain whatever it was Lord MacLean was so keen to claim so that Celina could return it to her uncle and cousin?
“I am sorry, Lady Bruce. Duncan has given me a complete tour of the Castle and it seems to contain little of value. My grandfather appears to have been forced to sell many valuables so he could continue living there.”
“So the heirloom has probably gone with the rest,” Celina turned on him again accusingly.
Once again he remembered her close relationship with the MacLean Clan and that Duncan had said she was engaged to Hamish MacLean.
Was it really possible that because of the way they had treated him she had rejected her relations?
She was not wearing an engagement ring – did that mean she was not going to marry Hamish after all?
Celina Stirling seemed honest and straightforward, but he had known men in his business dealings who turned out not to be as they had initially appeared.
Was it possible that this girl was still working with the MacLeans, hoping to get below his guard?
He tried to ignore this thought and to consider the possibility that his grandfather had sold the treasure.
“I think it unlikely,” he replied finally. “He kept the portrait of his wife, Stella, and several pieces that Duncan says are all Fitzalan Clan heirlooms. My grandfather apparently wanted to conserve an essence of the family to hand on to me.”
“There you are!” Celina exclaimed triumphantly. “You’ve called them ‘heirlooms’. How can you be so sure one of them isn’t what my uncle is referring to?”
Rupert sighed.
“Do you really think that a carved chest, a Jacobean table or several swords could qualify as this treasure? I do not think any could possibly have been brought back from the Crusades, apart that is from the swords.”
“Does any have a jewelled hilt?”
He shook his head.
“They are rusty and look ordinary.”
Lady Bruce intervened.
“How complete a tour were you given?”
Rupert turned to face her.
“May I ask, Lady Bruce, what your part is in this inquisition?”
She threw up her hands.
“Good Heavens, I see I have managed to give you quite the wrong impression. My dear boy, I hope you will not mind my calling you that – you bring back so many happy memories of my old friendship with your father and grandfather. It is just that this wretched feud is causing so much trouble. Celina has abandoned her family – ”
Celina made a fierce gesture and seemed about to protest, then subsided as though she had, after all, to admit that it was what she had actually done.
Was she a good actress or was she tormented by whatever decision she had made?
If so, what was that decision?
“Your grandfather had his last months of life made a misery by this MacLean vendetta and you, Lord Fitzalan, have twice been attacked with the aim of abducting you. The first time you were brutally treated and if it had not been for Celina here, I would dread to think what might have happened.”
“I shall be grateful to Miss Stirling until my dying day,” he responded simply, wishing that he could dispel his suspicions about her motives for rescuing him.
Once again Celina flushed as Lady Bruce went on,
“Until this shameful question of the heirloom and the truth of its ownership is solved, I can only see matters getting even worse and who knows how they will finish. If there is anything at all I can do to prevent grief and tragedy consuming two families I have long been friends with, then I will do it.”
She finished speaking on a resolute note, looking Rupert straight in the eye.
He made a graceful gesture and rose.
“Lady Bruce, I accept all you say. It seems the only way I can be left in peace to restore my ancestral home is to resolve the matter of this heirloom. I thank you for your invitation to luncheon, but I shall go back to the Castle and make a rigorous search. I will then, if you will permit me, return and give you the result.”
Lady Bruce smiled.
“Bravo! I do applaud you, Lord Fitzalan. I am sure this is exactly what should be done!”
Celina rose in a single fluid movement.
“I shall accompany you, Lord Fitzalan, as two will be able to search more quickly than one.”
He looked at her standing straight and determined before him.
Could he trust her?
If he refused to allow her to accompany him, she would not trust him.
And he could scarcely deny that the prospect of her company was very attractive.
Rupert bowed.
“It will be my pleasure to have your company, Miss Stirling. Lady Bruce, can a message be sent to Duncan to harness up the carriage?”
As they waited, he looked at Celina and wondered again just why she wished to accompany him.
Much as he would like to think that she wanted to find the heirloom so as to end the feud, he was afraid that, instead, she was planning to snatch it from him.
CHAPTER FOUR
As Celina ran up the stairs to collect her wrap, she was filled with conflicting emotions.
Why had she said she must go with Lord Fitzalan to his Castle?
After the terrible scenes at Beaumarche Castle, she had never wanted to see him again.
The man was a member of the hated Fitzalan Clan and, worse than that, he had revealed sides of her uncle and cousin that were truly horrifying.
This meant she had to leave Beaumarche. Now any reminder that her relations could behave in such a barbaric way was more than she could bear.
When Lady Bruce had told her that morning that she hoped Lord Fitzalan would take luncheon with them, she had wanted to scream.
“I just cannot meet him again, Aunt Margaret,” she shuddered. “He is a monster.”
“Of course he’s not. Lord Fitzalan is not going to beat or abuse you in any way. If what you have told me is true and I am quite certain it is in every respect, he will be enormously grateful to you.”
“I don’t want his gratitude. Please, Aunt Margaret, don’t make me meet him. I will keep to my room until he has left.”
“Nonsense, girl. You will behave like the Lady you are and greet him politely.”
Because she so loved her Godmother and respected her judgement, Celina had composed herself, calming the blood that raced around her veins.
She tried to tell herself that Lord Fitzalan was only an ordinary man who had been caught up in extraordinary circumstances, but she had placed herself so that when he entered the drawing room, he would not be able to see her.
His athletic walk and the confident way he carried his exceptional height took Celina by surprise.
With a sudden stab to her chest, she recalled that at their previous meeting, he had been so badly beaten that he could hardly stand upright.
Then he turned round to face her and she saw how delighted he was at her presence.
Something sublime seemed to happen inside her – it was as though his smile turned her bones to liquid and she had difficulty in preventing herself collapsing into a chair.
She could not understand her reaction.
This was the Fitzalan who had brought disaster on her, who had revealed the vicious side of Hamish and lost her the one man she had thought she loved, her friend from childhood days.
Lord Fitzalan had made it impossible for her to stay any longer in the Castle she had called home for so many years, and she could hardly bring herself to address him in anything approaching a civil manner.
She had seethed inwardly at the way he seemed so relaxed in Lady
Bruce’s drawing room – this savage from the primitive shores of America.
She seethed even more when he would not accept her account of his grandfather’s behaviour or the existence of the precious heirloom the Fitzalans had filched from the MacLeans.
She had wanted to fly at him, beat her fists against his chest, forcing him to acknowledge the rightness of their claim. Instead she had sat rigidly in her chair, determined she would force him to open up Castle Fitzalan.
And then he had confounded her by declaring that he would scour the place for the heirloom.
Immediately she knew that she had to be at his side when he searched.
Otherwise he could easily bury it somewhere on his vast estate and declare he had found nothing. It was what her uncle and Hamish had feared his grandfather would do.
No – much as she hated the idea of having to spend time in close contact with this man, it was essential that she accompany him to Castle Fitzalan.
Celina found her wrap and returned downstairs.
She then said goodbye to Lady Bruce and listened to Lord Fitzalan’s assurances that he would return her to Drumlanrigg before dark.
“The Castle is not that large and we will soon have searched every nook and cranny,” he smiled.
Lady Bruce stood still thoughtfully at the top of the steps looking worried as she watched them leave.
Celina realised that she felt responsible for the fact that her goddaughter was disappearing without a chaperone in the company of a man she hardly knew.
This did not worry Celina. She was used to living in an almost completely male household and riding around the countryside without a companion of any sort.
“Afternoon, Mistress Stirling,” Duncan greeted her, as he descended from the driver’s seat of the carriage, his broad grin revealing gaps in his teeth.
Celina remembered that he had once brought the old Laird over to a reception at Lady Bruce’s.
She had remained in the garden so that she did not have to meet the old Lord Fitzalan. She had observed him arriving and, despite herself, been impressed by his striking looks.
With flowing white hair, eagle nose, erect posture and muscular legs beneath his kilt, he looked, she thought, like an ancient hero from a folk tale, and then she remembered who he was and walked to a different part of the garden so that she need not encounter him.
The Revelation is Love Page 5