Waiting until warm slippers had been found for Rory’s feet, she took his arm and steered him toward the roaring fire. Chairs and tables had been arranged near enough to the fireplace to be warm and not roasted. Rory gestured for his guest to precede him.
No introductions had yet been made. Alyson smiled at the incongruous sight of her father’s old-fashioned elegance in buckram-stiffened silks and red heels preceding Alex, his heir, in his stylish velvet and stiff cravat.
Only Rory in his open shirt and old worsted loose coat appeared at home. That was because in her mind she saw him with the tartan over his shoulder that he had worn at Christmas. Out of deference to the earl, he had not worn it since, but he walked as if he wore this insignia of his title and position against the medieval grandeur of the old hall.
Ignoring the steaming mugs of punch, Rory poured himself a dram of whisky before making the introductions that would likely explode Alex’s small world.
Alyson settled her skirts on a settee as her husband curtly introduced the newly titled Earl of Cranville to the rightful claimant to the title.
Alex Hampton made a mocking bow to the older man seated before him. “Very well done, I must say. It had not occurred to me that Maclean would also wish to usurp the few beggarly things remaining to me by hiring an impostor. Very clever, indeed. Shall I return to Cornwall to find myself locked out of my own house?”
“Damned insolent pup, if you were there where you belonged, you would know, wouldn’t you? Damme if I don’t believe Maclean is right. My heir is not only a fool, but a damned impertinent one at that.”
Everett Hampton crossed his arms, and Alex’s mouth curled with scorn. Rory took a seat with his back to the fire. His curiosity demanded to know what had brought his nemesis here in a blinding storm, but he could wait while the two Englishmen went for each other’s throats.
“Out of respect for your age and my hostess, sir, I’ll not call you out for those insults,” Alex said stiffly. “I have come with a message for my cousin and her husband, not to duel with an old fool.”
The earl grew livid with rage, and setting aside his mug, began to rise. Alyson was ahead of him. Her gentle hand touched his shoulder, holding him back. Her musical voice filled their ears, although not with songs of peace, Rory noted with amusement.
“Alex, for once be sensible instead of hasty,” she commanded. “Rory and I have no need of your estates and would not go to such lengths as to hire an impostor. This is my father, returned from Barbados apparently by the vicious rumors you planted all over the island about me. Had you held your tongue, he might never have returned and the title would be yours. As it is, you would do well to listen before you spoil your chances of ever seeing Cornwall again. Can you not see the resemblance to the portrait in the main drawing room?”
Alex stared at her in mockery. “I thought you had some modicum of sense, little cousin, but if you believe this faradiddle, you are as great a fool as you look. You would take a faint resemblance to an ancient portrait as proof positive that this man is your father? Isn’t it odd that he does not happen along until you are worth a king’s ransom?” He turned to Rory with equal scorn. “Surely you have sense enough to see the convenience of his disguise? I can only believe you play along with him for nefarious purposes.”
Alyson’s hand tightened in anger upon her father’s shoulder. He patted it reassuringly. “I can see why you did not take a liking to him, dear. I’ve not seen such arrogance since his father announced he could drink every man in White’s under the table and then proceeded to do so . Drinking was certainly a poor talent to cultivate, but he did it exceedingly well, while he lasted. I suppose you have cultivated equally useless talents?” He directed this last to his heir.
Alex fingered the hilt of his sword. “I am accounted a fair swordsman, sir. Would you care to try me?”
“As to that, I’ll let the Maclean settle those differences,” the earl said dismissively. “I daresay our host is quite proficient with that broadsword of his, and he seems to have good reason for taking arms against you. I myself prefer fencing with words. Do you remember aught of your father?”
Alex scowled and drank from his mug. “I was but a child when he died. I doubt if his visits to the nursery were frequent.”
“No, they wouldn’t have been. So I cannot convince you with a word picture of his mien and manner. It seems we have little in common, then. You will have to accept Farnley’s witness that I am the man who left these shores twenty years ago. My signature has not changed much, and I should think old acquaintances might recognize me still, despite the graying hairs. In the meantime, you will simply have to take my word for it.”
Alex slammed his mug down and rose to glare at Rory. “I don’t have to take this. I came here because I had some foolish notion that I still owed Alyson my protection. Now that I can see she has found a home with villains, I can only assume she can take care of herself. I bid you good day, then.”
His path was intercepted by a soft round figure in jewel colors who could have stepped from one of the tapestries adorning the paneled walls. Rory materialized behind her, making his protection evident.
Alex gave him a scornful glance. “Unlike you, I do not take advantage of a woman’s weakness. She will come to no harm by me. That was why I came.”
“I can give evidence otherwise, but that is an old argument.” Alyson spoke softly but with great emphasis. “You are my cousin and my father’s heir. I cannot send you out into the storm. Sit, both of you.”
The hostility between Rory and Alex was a tangible thing that electrified the air. Alyson gazed with curiosity at the monster who had driven her from her home. No longer alone, but safe in the security of father and husband, she could see he was naught but a man. True, he was a large man, one of frighteningly powerful breadth and muscular grace, but she did not find evil in his dark eyes. Licentiousness, perhaps, overindulgence, certainly, but not evil.
She frowned at his arrogant amusement. “Your wickedness will bring you to the same end as your father if you do not change your ways, cousin,” she said curtly. “You are fearless in the eyes of the world, but inside, you are alone and terrified of it. Now, tell me your message, and I will have a room prepared for you. We will be eating shortly. You may join us or not, as you wish.”
She had once been speechless in Alex’s company and run from him in terror for months. Rory had given her the confidence she needed to stand up to him now.
“At least you are listening instead of screaming, for a change,” Alex said with his usual sarcasm. “I think I’ll take advantage of the silence to offer the apologies I have tried to give before. There is no excuse for my behavior. If you will accept that I was a desperate man who acted ignobly but never meant you any harm, I will beg your forgiveness and ask for a truce.”
Alyson had taken a chair between her father and Rory. She contemplated his apology. “I have forgiven worse, I suppose, for what it is worth. You are the one who must forgive himself. However, the truce will be temporary unless there is trust. I tell you this is my father, and Drummond is my enemy. If you cannot believe these things, we will never hear each other.”
Alex sighed, sent her a puzzled look, then turned to Rory for explanation. Rory merely smirked, forcing him to deal with Alyson.
“I’ll believe Drummond is your enemy,” he said cautiously. “That is why I’m here. As much as I despise your husband’s tactics, they do not seem to include harming women and children. Drummond may have a right to protect what is his, but when he threatens your welfare, I cannot support him.”
He cast Rory a grudging look. “And since you have at least made an honest woman of her and magnanimously paid my debts, I owe you a debt I can repay with this warning. Drummond intends to draw you out with an atrocity that will demand that you and your men revenge it. I cannot know his exact plans, for he has the cunning of a madman, but it is certain he means to kill you and take Alyson hostage against any reprisals. You may know more
of his habits than I, but his drinking has pushed him over some edge between protecting his own and destroying what belongs to others. He has not a gentle way with women.”
“Alyson is a lady of quality,” her father protested. “No English gentleman would harm her. I think it is likely that it is your own drinking that has muddled the problem here.”
Alex lifted his mug in a mocking gesture and drained the contents. “Care to join me, old man? I take after my father in that. I can drink you under the table and still remember everything you said and did. It’s a curse, actually. I would prefer to disclaim many things I have done as the result of drunkenness or forget that I had done them the next day. You are a trifle out of touch with the times, sir. English gentlemen hurt ladies all the time, but so as to offend your sensibilities even more, I will tell you Drummond does not consider Alyson a lady. She is married to his notorious cousin, after all.”
Her father glared at his heir. “Then perhaps it is time I speak with this mad friend of yours. There seems to be some misapprehension about the circumstances of Alyson’s birth. She is quite legitimate, you know. Had she been fortunate enough to be male, she would be my heir, not you.”
Alex choked on his smugness.
Rory grinned and took Alyson’s hand. “Personally, I feel fortunate she was not born male.” He nodded at Alex. “But I thank you for your warning. It would be better discussed at another time, however. Alyson has enough strange notions without our playing upon them.”
Alyson sent him an irritated glance. “You cannot keep these things from me, Rory. You know you can’t. It only scares me more when I don’t know what to expect, or when to expect it. I’d rather be prepared.”
Rory pulled her from the chair. “You are prepared. You are safe within a stone fortress that Drummond cannot breach, and you have a husband who is wise to his ways. He cannot harm us, lass. Now, go lie down awhile before we eat. There is no sense in upsetting yourself over nothing.”
His hands were warm upon hers, his gaze reassuring, and Alyson did not fight his judgment. She knew Rory was strong and capable. Perhaps her vision was meaningless. She had misinterpreted visions before. But she knew the men of her family did not have her confidence in her husband, and they would need that confidence were they ever to work together.
She smiled and kissed Rory’s bristly cheek. “Just promise not to take up sword against my father and cousin while I am gone. Three generals and no army can cause confusion.”
For her trust he would like to take her in his arms and cover her with kisses, but in the company of her family, Rory did not feel the freedom to do so. He still felt the need to prove himself to her father. This he would do better without Alyson near to reveal his one weakness. He turned to find his father-in-law regarding him thoughtfully, and Hampton with amusement.
Scowling, he dropped back in the chair. Drawing his eyebrows down, Rory glared from one English aristocrat to the other. Generals, indeed. These men knew nothing of the animosity and dangers bred in these hills. Were it not for Alyson, he would be better off sending them away.
Before either earl or heir could speak, Rory lifted his glass of whisky and asked, “Can either of you wield a broadsword?”
34
In the weeks that followed, an uneasy truce developed among the men in Alyson’s life. All three were men of independence, highly opinionated, and accustomed to giving orders and not taking them. At times Alyson thought it might be easier to invite Drummond to join them and just let them fight it out. The old walls strained under the intensity of escalating tempers.
Holding her hand to the heavy weight that stretched her endurance, Alyson eased down the narrow stone stairs. Soon it would be April. She did not know what the month of spring brought to these cold hills, but she knew of one burgeoning forth that would come of it.
Passing in the hall below, Dougall frowned and hurried to help her. “I thought you were told to stay upstairs and out of trouble, my lady. Myra will have my head if she finds I’ve aided your escape.”
“The sun shines, Dougall. I would feel it for myself. Where is everyone?”
“The earl and his heir have been persuaded from a target shoot to join the Maclean in a fishing expedition. I believe the laird thought the targets might otherwise become each other or himself.”
Alyson laughed. Reaching the windowed hall on Dougall’s arm, she espied the stiff figure of Rory’s newly arrived bailiff hurrying toward the back of the house. Montrose had arrived one windy day with his wig askew and his formal black coat rumpled but his dignity unruffled. He and Rory had retired to the study, and the man had been busy ever since. Well aware that this was the man whose tales had sent Rory into a drunken rage, precipitating his marriage, Alyson regarded him with some awe.
“Someday, someone must tell me what a bailiff does,” she mused aloud. It wasn’t as if her grandmother’s tower had fields or tenants requiring managing She feared this bailiff’s tasks might involve Drummond’s lands.
“The sun is bright, but it is still cold. You will need something warm on if you mean to go outside.” Dougall halted near the cloakroom off the hall.
“Will it ever be warm again?” Alyson sighed as he helped her don her fur-lined cloak.
“Aye, lass, soon enough. This is a bad winter you’re seeing this year. There should be good weather to follow. It is not always thus.”
“Good. Is there someone hereabouts who can tell me what flowers we might order for planting? It is all very well to prepare kitchen gardens and fields, but I should like a little beauty along with the practicality, if I could.”
“I know naught of such things, my lady, but Mary seems to know most of your tenants. Shall I send her to you?”
“Would you, Dougall? I would appreciate that. I’ll be just outside.” Relieved not to have to carry her bulk the length of the keep to the kitchen and back, Alyson adjusted her hood and stepped out.
It was exceedingly tedious to be confined behind four walls. She wanted to run and jump and sit in the grass and watch the clouds overhead. But the child who had once done that was long gone. Briefly, remembering another sunny day, she wondered how Alan Tremaine fared. How silly she had been to think what she felt for him was love! It hadn’t even been lust. More likely boredom, she supposed.
Thank heaven Rory had come along to show her how it could be between men and women. Gazing down at the awkward stomach preceding her, Alyson had to laugh at her thoughts. Rory had taught her all manner of wondrous things. She wouldn’t trade a minute of their nights together for the ability to run and jump like a child again. She had discovered a woman’s pleasures.
Mary hurried out of the house, her wool cloak flapping in the wind. Alyson watched her with interest. The distraught woman who had arrived months ago had not totally lost her haunted look, but her gaunt flesh was filling out, and although her manner was often harsh and bitter, Alyson sensed it hid a kind heart. She smiled as the other woman reached her side. “On days like this, my thoughts turn to flowers. Do yours?”
“My thoughts are of wool bonnets and thick stockings,” Mary answered pragmatically. “You should be resting before the fire, making those pretty lace things for the babe.”
‘I’ll do that when the skies grow gray again,” Alice said with a shrug. “Show me to someone who knows of flowers.”
They walked down the rocky path together, heedless of the clouds behind the crest of the hill.
***
With the wind changing to a cold one from the mountain, Rory signaled an end to their fishing. As he flung the day’s catch into a basket, he could almost taste the delicate flesh seeped in butter and wine. He could eat half the catch himself, and ought to, for all the others had done to help him bring it in.
He grinned as his noble guests struggled wearily up the hill after him. Had Hampton and Cranville spent less of their time arguing and more mending their nets, they might have caught more. Not until they had reached some amicable resolution after almost overt
urning the dinghy had they settled down to catch anything at all. How Hampton could not see his kinship with the haughty earl was beyond Rory’s ken. It wasn’t just the structure of their bones, but the structure of their minds—inflexible to a harrowing degree.
Entering the keep, Rory surrendered his basket and gear to a waiting servant and glanced around eagerly as his guests discarded their outer coats. Alyson usually materialized whenever he arrived, and he could not help but feel disappointment that she did not do so now, when he was feeling so triumphant. Of course, she was supposed to be resting, and Myra had forbidden the use of the stairs, but that had not stopped her before.
Rather than embarrass himself by asking after his wife in front of his guests, Rory made an excuse to go to his study. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, eager just to have a moment’s word with Alyson before tackling the challenge of the long evening with his argumentative guests. He could wish they would go elsewhere to settle their differences, but they didn’t seem inclined to believe he could adequately protect Alyson. There were times he felt a prisoner of their scrutiny, but Alyson relieved all that. He smiled as he threw open the bedchamber door.
The smile disappeared in puzzlement when he found the chamber empty. If she hadn’t come downstairs to greet him and she wasn’t sleeping, where the hell was she? Rory caught himself as he was about to rage down the stairs. He didn’t own Alyson. She had every right to go her own way. It had been his possessiveness that had caused the first disaster of their marriage. Alyson was an intelligent, mature woman who had a way of taking care of things herself.
Repeating these reassurances, he returned to the hall to join his guests in a brandy. Alyson would appear in her own sweet time.
Moon Dreams Page 35