“Yes, I think Mamma would be a little testy about that,” she said. “Although that would certainly solve the problem of what to do with me.”
He frowned. “I thought things were better between you two now. Surely your mother is not still angry with you.”
She shrugged. “She’s still convinced I’m ruined forever. Her words, not mine.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree. May I see what’s on the other side of the tower?”
He frowned, obviously wanting to pursue the unpleasant subject. She took the matter out of his hands by sliding past him and around the tower. Gilbride had no choice but to follow.
The view on the other side was even more spectacular and, for a few minutes, they drank in the beauty in silence.
“Those are the Campsie Fells,” Gilbride finally said, gesturing toward the high ridge of hills in the distance. “From there you can get a bonny view of Glasgow in one direction and the Highlands in the other.”
Edie tilted her head back to let the sun hit full on her face. The wind was bracing rather than cold, and it seemed to clear away the travails of the last few weeks. Up here, there were only the stones under her feet, the wind soughing through the trees, and the screeching of a hawk as it circled overhead. London and the ton were as distant as a fading memory, and for the first time in several days, she couldn’t regret that she’d been driven from town. Life seemed fresher here, high above it all, offering a chance for a new beginning. If her sister had been with her, the moment would have been perfect.
Still, her current companion held more than his fair share of appeal.
Gilbride appeared lost in thought, his forearms braced on the parapet as he gazed out at the fells. From the downward pull of his mouth and the brooding cast to his brow, it seemed his thoughts were not as pleasant as hers.
“You truly didn’t want to come back, did you?” she asked.
When he glanced over, meeting her gaze, she registered a slight shock at the grim expression on his handsome features. Gilbride had always struck her as the most easygoing of men, despite his dangerous career as a spy. He seemed never at a loss for words or less than completely in control. He was an insanely confident and arrogantly attractive man who swashbuckled his way through life.
But right now he didn’t look like the man who always knew what he wanted and how to get it. Right now he looked unhappy.
But then something seemed to flicker in his storm-cloud gaze, and the brackets around his hard mouth creased with a rogue’s easy smile. She felt an odd sense of disappointment, as if he’d sounded the retreat just before something important marched over the horizon.
“I’m not jumping up and down for joy,” he said. “I liked my life as it was, and I wasn’t quite ready to give it up.”
She turned to face him, resting her hip against the stone parapet. “Are you really telling me that you miss being shot at or dodging desperate characters who are trying to murder you?”
His smile slid into a full-out grin, one so dazzling that her breath caught in her throat. Being around Gilbride might very well resemble having a lung infection after all, since she displayed a disturbing tendency to go both breathless and lightheaded in his company.
“Not the being shot at, of course,” he said. “But every day was a challenge, and I was never bored.”
She envied him that. Edie might not be a terribly romantic person, but she’d often longed for escape—occasionally from the demands of her family, but mostly from the restrictions that hemmed in the life of a proper young lady. Unfortunately, she’d pushed so hard against those limits that she’d brought them crashing down around her.
“You’re so lucky to have had the opportunity to travel,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too wistful. “Especially to places like Persia and Greece. What were they like?”
“Greece was beautiful, especially the islands. Persia had its moments too.”
“That’s not much of a description. Can’t you do better than that?”
He pretended to ruminate on the question. “It was hot, especially on the plains of Nineveh. Beastly hot, in fact.”
She let out a snort of disgust. “How dreary of you to be so blasé about it. Did you go to Nineveh when you were a spy?”
“No, my sojourn there was before I got into that game.” Now it was his turn to lean a hip against the parapet, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. He was once more his confident self, not the brooding man of a few minutes ago.
“When, exactly?” she prompted, hungry for more detail.
“When I was secretary to the British consul to Baghdad. My superior was quite the antiquarian. He was always dragging me off to one ruin or another.”
“How did you end up in that position? Did your grandfather help you?”
“Of course. He was determined to keep me from getting into even deeper trouble. Since I had no intention of returning home, he begged some favors from the Foreign Office and had me put to work. It all sounded like a grand adventure to me.”
“What kind of trouble had you gotten into?”
“The kind no gentleman would explain to a gently reared young lady.”
“Don’t be such a stick,” she scoffed. “You know I don’t have a shockable bone in my body.”
“Regardless,” he said drily, “I have no intention of sharing those particular events with you.”
“You can be such an old biddy at times,” she said. “Please continue with the stories you can tell me.”
“Your wish is my command. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Nineveh. There’s not much to tell, really. It was mostly miles and miles of dusty plains, dirt mounds that all looked the same, and heaps of old bricks covered with cuneiform writing. Since no one can actually read cuneiform writing, they were rather more boring than anything else.”
She gave him a jaundiced look. “May I just say that you’re even less romantic than I am, which certainly doesn’t square with your dashing reputation.”
His gaze drifted over her face, seeming to snag on her mouth. “Oh, I can be quite romantic and dashing under the right circumstances.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about that, and you know it.”
He laughed. “Yes, I do know it. And I apologize for being such a disappointment. I will say, however, that Persepolis was entirely worth seeing. I did a number of drawings of the ruins. Perhaps you’d like to see them at some point.”
Edie perked up at that. “Yes, very much.”
“Then you shall. But now we’d best go down if we want to finish the tour before Mrs. Graeme serves tea.”
She began to make her way back to the door but then stopped and turned to face him. There was one question she hadn’t yet had the nerve to ask—the one that interested her the most. Their situations seemed alike in the sense that both of them had been forced to run in traces that didn’t fit. Since he’d managed to escape his for a good long while, she found it hard to imagine how he could give up his freedom so easily. She didn’t think she could, once she had a taste of it.
“What is it, Miss Whitney?”
“If you’re not ready, why are you going home? I imagine not even your grandfather can force you to do what you don’t want to do. Why not keep on with what you love, regardless of what your family demands?”
His eyes narrowed, as if she had annoyed him.
“Because I have a responsibility to my family, of course, especially to my grandfather. I’m neither a gadabout nor a reprobate, Miss Whitney, no matter what you might think.”
His cool tone made her blink. “I never called you either of those things,” she said defensively.
“No, you’ve called me worse—repeatedly and in public. I assure you, your opinion of me is abundantly clear.”
She stared into his sardonic gaze for a few infernally long moments, then turned and started down the narrow stairs. Her cheeks burned and she wanted to kick herself for letting down her guard.
Even wor
se, he’d regarded her question as a genuine insult. She’d taken a risk, hoping he wouldn’t brush her off with his usual jest or practiced charm. For some ridiculous reason, she wanted to know what he truly thought about things—deep inside, where it counted.
Instead, she’d left herself wide open for yet another lesson in rejection. It shouldn’t matter in the least, but she was sorry to say it did.
Repressing the impulse to flounce down the stairs, probably breaking her neck if she did, Edie descended to the main level and crossed to the stairway that led outside to the courtyard. Gilbride was a silent presence at her back, one she wished she could ignore.
She tromped down the steps and started across the small inner court toward the house. Perhaps if she pretended their nasty little exchange hadn’t happened, he would go along with it. Then they could go back to teasing and insulting each other, like they did back in London. At least then she would know how to handle him.
“Hang on, lass. There’s no need to go storming off,” came the deep burr from behind her. Gilbride gently but firmly took her arm, halting her in her tracks.
Edie refused to look at him, keeping her gaze pinned on a water trough on the other side of the yard. She heard him sigh and then he moved around to face her, a wry expression on his features.
“I wasn’t trying to insult you,” she said, forcing the words out. “I’m sorry if I did.”
He grimaced. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I had no business taking my personal frustrations out on you. Please forgive me.”
His apology disarmed her, but she was still unsure how to respond.
“If you’d like to beat me about the head with a nice stout stick,” he offered, “I’ll help you find one.”
She sighed. “I’m certainly tempted, but I’d rather know why you ripped up at me like that. As you so trenchantly pointed out, you’ve put up with far worse before.”
“I’m sure it’s because you hit so close to home,” Gilbride said. “I have been evading my responsibilities, as Wolf has been telling me for some time. Besides, most of your usual insults are quite entertaining. I’m not used to you being so serious. You threw me off my feed.”
“I repeat, I was not trying to insult you.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Next time I intend to insult you, I’ll give you notice first,” she said. “That way neither of us will get confused.”
An errant breeze whipped through the courtyard, flipping the collar of her pelisse up to her cheek. Gilbride reached out to smooth it down, letting his hand rest against the side of her neck. “Eden Whitney, what the devil am I going to do with you?”
Her heart began to pound so hard she was sure he must feel the pulse beating beneath her skin. “If you don’t know, I certainly can’t tell you,” she said, forcing a light tone. “Now, don’t you think we should finish our tour? I’m sure Mrs. Graeme is wondering where we are.”
He studied her for a few moments, then nodded. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Whitney.” Slipping her hand through his arm, he led her to the outer courtyard.
Edie cast about in her head for something to say. “You must miss Wolf,” she finally said.
“He’s a pain in my arse, but yes. It feels odd to think I won’t see him regularly anymore. Sad, too.”
“That’s how I feel about Evie,” she said.
He pulled her a fraction closer, almost tucking her against his side. “At least we have the satisfaction of knowing that she and Wolf are happy.”
“Yes, blast them. We’re the ones sent into miserable exile.”
“Then we must be sure to send them long, morose reports from the Highlands to make them feel as guilty as possible.”
Edie laughed, and the last of her tension dissolved. “If I have to have a companion in exile, I suppose it might as well be you. Now, tell me more about Mugdock. Perhaps if I use my imagination, I can pretend I’m truly someplace exotic.”
He launched into a surprisingly interesting and detailed lecture about Mugdock Castle and the family history. While he talked, they strolled around the base of the crumbling curtain wall. Edie was only half-conscious of the views, caught up in the fascinating tale of the Gallant Grahams over the centuries. Gilbride was an accomplished storyteller, and before she even realized it, they’d walked most of the way around the castle’s perimeter.
“You’re really quite lucky,” she said as they stopped to gaze out over the lake.
He cocked an enquiring eyebrow. “How so?”
“You’ve had ten splendid years adventuring, and you now get to come back to all this.” She swept out an arm to indicate the hills, lake, and the forest with its rustling cloak of orange and red. “Your lands, your family, your history . . . it’s all so noble. It’s certainly something worth coming home to.”
He smiled down at her, his gaze warming with an appreciation that soothed the lingering remnants of her injured pride. “You put me to shame with your enthusiasm, Miss Whitney.”
“Well, my life certainly wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t exciting or even particularly interesting. And now the only thing I can hope for is that the scandal attached to my name will eventually fade so I can trap some poor fellow into marrying me, despite my many faults.” She wrinkled her nose at him, turning her complaint into a jest. The last thing she wanted was his pity.
He took a step closer, so close that she had to tip her head back to look at him. “Any man with a brain would consider himself lucky to call you his wife. I know I would.”
His deep voice seemed to rumble through her, like a small earthquake. It rather made her knees quake, too, and she could feel herself blushing like a schoolgirl. She’d heard hundreds of fulsome compliments over the years, calculated to set a girl all atwitter. But his unvarnished statement sent her poor heart thumping even harder. Her body’s response told her she stood at the edge of a precipice.
“Perhaps you can write a letter of reference for my former suitors,” she said, trying to hide behind the joke. “I fear they’ve quite forgotten my ample charms.”
When his gaze dropped to her bosom, she felt herself going from warm to hot. She’d certainly walked right into that one.
“Perhaps I’ll keep you all to myself instead,” he murmured in a voice that spoke of dark nights, velvet caresses, and a man’s knowing hands on her body.
She pulled in a breath, staring into a wicked gaze that dragged her into a whirlpool of emotion. Unconsciously, she swayed toward him, both mind and body muddled with longing and trepidation. Gilbride started to lean down, coming closer.
Edie startled when she heard a grating, clattering sound. She glanced over the top of her spectacles at a large, blurry figure on top of the wall, and then saw large chunks of stone tumbling right at them.
Before she had a chance to cry out, Gilbride launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her down to the ground with him in a controlled roll. He shielded her from the worst of the impact, but she still hit hard and it knocked the air from her lungs. Gilbride covered her body with his as large stones crashed down chillingly close to them.
And right where they’d been standing only a few seconds ago.
Chapter Ten
Home.
With each passing mile that brought them closer to Blairgal Castle, the memories rose up to meet Alec, images that both pulled him forward and urged hell-bent for leather escape in the opposite direction. The idea of home wove a tangled skein of emotions. There were equal measures of guilt and relief, a fair share of irritation, and an odd sense of yearning that never went away.
“The scenery is reminiscent of the Lake District, don’t you think, Mamma?” Edie said as she gazed out the window. “It’s very beautiful but not nearly as rugged as I thought it would be.”
Alec forced himself to stop brooding like a daft poet, instead focusing his attention on his traveling companions. Edie and Lady Reese sat opposite, stylish in their elegant pelisses and bonnets. Bang-up to
the mark, he had no doubt. In only a few minutes, they would be meeting his grandfather, the Earl of Riddick, and they were dressed to impress. They would create a stir with everyone at Blairgal Castle, but possibly not in the way they expected. Their appearance screamed Londoner, which certainly wouldn’t endear them to his parochially Scottish grandparent.
Edie gave him a tentative smile that suggested she’d forgiven him for his spectacular string of blunders yesterday at Mugdock. After teasing her, insulting her, and then knocking her to the ground—out of necessity—he’d capped it off by bursting into laughter when she’d insisted that someone had deliberately toppled the loose rocks from the top of the curtain wall.
Though the very notion was demented, he should have been gentler with her. Not only had she had a bad scare, he’d knocked the wind out of her. The stone fall had missed them by only a few feet, which had been more luck than he deserved. But he’d been only moments away from kissing her and his brain had been addled with lust. If it hadn’t been for her frightened squeak and the sudden horror in her eyes, he might not have noticed the falling rocks until it was too late.
He was damn sure no one had tried to hurt them, but he was also sure they’d only escaped death because she’d been paying more attention to their surroundings than he had.
Which only showed how deranged he’d become. He’d been blind and deaf to everything but her. She’d felt like heaven in his arms, with her soft curves and her magnificent bosom heaving against his chest. His body had instinctively reacted in an all-too-predictable manner that she obviously couldn’t help but notice.
And it had gone downhill from there. Once he’d hauled her to her feet, she’d insisted he go up and uselessly search the walls for the dark-garbed man who’d knocked the rocks down on them. No amount of reasoning on his part—or denials by the Mugdock servants that any such dark-garbed man existed—could convince her otherwise that the fall had been accidental.
“Och, my dear,” Mrs. Graeme had said to Edie, “those old walls have been crumbling to dust for years. I fair blame myself for not reminding the master of the dangers.”
How to Marry a Royal Highlander Page 12