A Highland Folly

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Parlan is not—”

  “Until you wed and have children, Anice, he is your heir.”

  She nodded slowly. She knew that Parlan was next in line to be head of the Kinloch family but seldom gave that fact any thought. Mayhap he knew that she had had no interest in a beau, that she was determined to make herself a place in this family before even considering creating a family of her own with a husband and children.

  These thoughts were uncomfortable. She had wanted to believe that Parlan welcomed her, that the whole family was glad to have her arrive in Scotland to be part of Ardkinloch. For so long she had imagined having a family that she could be a true part of, not just to live among acquaintances she would know for a few weeks or months before moving somewhere else.

  She glanced around the room again. The feeling of being a part of this house in an unbroken line that went back to the ancient Picts had vanished. Suddenly she seemed to be outside the merriment and music as if she were observing it from a distance greater than from here to Bonito’s birthplace in South America.

  “Anice! Anice, are you listening?” Neilli’s voice was still filled with excitement, but the taint of frustration ran through it.

  “I am sorry. What did you say?” She forced a smile. Or tried to, because her face was as stiff as her body that seemed encased in the rocks Lucais’s men were tearing from the brae.

  “I said that you should find out if the on-dits about Lucais MacFarlane are true.”

  Anice took a steadying breath and met her cousin’s eyes as she asked, “Me? Why would I wish to make myself look like a gawney by asking some obviously addled questions?”

  “Addled?”

  “I would appear addled to ask him if he was the heir to a grand title because I cannot think of a single reason he would be here rather than in Town. Can you?”

  “If I had ever been to Town, I might know the answer to that.”

  Anice sighed once more. If Neilli was going to be petulant, there was no reason to try to talk sense with her. She started to turn away, but her cousin called her name. “Yes?” she replied.

  “What if it is not just a rumor, Anice?” Neilli’s eyes glistened with excitement. “What if Lucais MacFarlane is really the son of a marquess?”

  “A marquess? Why not a duke?”

  “Anice!”

  “I ask you again: What would a peer’s son be doing here, overseeing the construction of a road through a small town and a bridge across our river?”

  Neilli shrugged as she looked across the room. Her eyes narrowed as a smile slipped along her lips. “I think it is time someone found out, don’t you think so?”

  “Neilli, you will only embarrass him if these rumors are not true.”

  “I can be subtle.”

  Anice doubted that but did not want to goad her cousin into doing something skimble-skamble. “Let me go with you. I will—”

  “Lady Kinloch!” interrupted Sir Busby as he bustled toward them. “A grand gathering! A most grand gathering! A fine ending to a day that I feared would be troublesome. You, as befits your place as Lady Kinloch, clearly saw what I and others had not. All of those who have been lamenting that Ardkinloch has been too long in mourning and no longer a part of Killiebige and the rest of the glen will be silenced with this grand gathering.”

  Letting the baronet bow over her hand, Anice smiled. “All that was needed to bring us all together was an excuse.”

  “And the archery contest today was just the excuse.” He chuckled but looked past her. “I was certain I saw the twins nearby.”

  “Neilli is right …” Anice clenched her jaw when she realized that her cousin had taken advantage of Anice’s conversation with Sir Busby to sneak away.

  She did not need to look around. She knew where Neilli was headed. Although she wished for a way to put an end to this conversation with Sir Busby, she could think of none. Others came to join the discussion of the week’s uncommonly warm weather. Each time she hoped to ease out of the circle, someone would ask her opinion about the herds in the area or the weather or the news of the latest political decision from London.

  What a muff she had been to think that the evening might be difficult because of her uncertainty about Lucais! If Neilli was so bold as to pose her questions to Lucais, and Anice knew her cousin would be that brazen if she thought there was any chance Lucais might possess a title, then this evening—and mayhap much longer—was bound to be even worse than she had ever imagined.

  Much worse.

  Lucais smiled as he took a sip of the whisky that had been offered him. He had always missed these fine whiskies, as individual as each glen and as smooth as Bonito’s coat. His smile broadened when he thought of the peculiar beast that seemed to have taken a true liking to him after their first encounter by the cottage.

  While waiting for this assembly to begin, he had gone outside to enjoy some fresh air. Bonito had approached him before the door was closed. The majestic beast was not affectionate but appreciated having company as Lucais had wandered around the yard in front of the sheepfold. Pippy had been curled into a ball, snoring softly, in one corner of the barn.

  Lucais pushed through the crowd. Even this grand room was choke-full when all of the Kinlochs were gathered with their guests. He had not realized how many relatives were living in this house. He guessed there must be at least two score. No wonder Anice often sought solitude on the hill.

  Where was she? He had been watching the door for her to come in. She had arrived and been swallowed by the gathering. As its hostess, she must be busy with all the details that would assure that her guests enjoyed themselves. How many of these assemblies had he attended? Not once, before tonight, had he thought of the work hosting one required.

  He listened to the music coming from the far corner of the room. The violinist was skilled, although the tempo was slower than he had heard it played at Her Grace’s rout, the last party he had attended in Town. Odd that the melody brought Anice to mind, for it was lush and seductive while at the same time it had a gentleness that reached deep within him to stir a warmth.

  Lucais could not keep from staring as he saw Anice speaking with Sir Busby Crenton and some others by the door to the room. Even in the sloppy clothes she wore when working on the hill or in the sheepfold, Anice was lovely. Now she was dressed in an ethereal gown of unblemished white. The flowers woven through her auburn hair were as pale, but a soft flush brightened her cheeks. Her delicate beauty was an illusion, he knew, because her eyes showcased her determination that never faltered.

  He smiled when she stepped back as her neighbor waved his hands enthusiastically to make some point. She wore an expression he recognized too easily, for he had seen it on so many faces in London when a person was doing his or her best to pretend to be interested in something that filled them with ennui. Only she was trying to hide the fact, and he guessed that the baronet had no idea that she wished to be elsewhere.

  And with someone else? He hoped so, for he wanted to be with her. When he put his hand on her elbow, she looked back at him. Her eyes glistened and she smiled when he asked, “May I speak with you a moment, Anice?”

  “Of course. Excuse me,” she said to the others crowding around her and Sir Busby.

  The round man folded his hands over the brown-striped waistcoat covering his full stomach. “Dashed skilled eye you have, MacFarlane,” the baronet said.

  “Thank you. I like to think that I do have a skilled eye.” He glanced at Anice. When she grimaced, he resisted laughing.

  Sir Busby clearly did not notice, because he continued. “Where did you learn to let an arrow fly like that?”

  “My older brother taught me.”

  Something in those few words clearly betrayed the sorrow he tried to conceal, because Anice’s hand settled on his arm, squeezing it gently. He added something that the baronet must have taken as an excuse to take his leave, because Sir Busby turned back to the others and went on with his story about a recent journey to A
berdeen.

  Lucais’s smile returned when he heard Anice humming along with the musicians. Her voice was not loud, but it resonated through him. Taking her hand, he drew it within his arm. Then, with a chuckle, he twirled her to the music. She stepped back and curtsied before he drew her back to spin her around.

  “No one else is dancing,” she said, laughing.

  “I have seen already that Lady Kinloch does not always follow the ways others choose.”

  “It would be easier if I could.”

  “But not as much fun.” He took her hand again as he led her toward a door that he had used earlier when he was seeking some quiet.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Out.”

  She laughed again, the sound even more melodic in his ears than the song played by the musicians. “That I can see.”

  Lucais led her to the edge of the terraced area that was lined with sculptured stones that he suspected had been taken from Dhùin Liath to be reused here. When the speed of his steps increased as he led her down the stairs at one side, she laughed.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, keeping pace with him as he crossed the lower terrace.

  “Here.” He drew her around the corner.

  He brushed his hand against Anice’s hair as she leaned her head on his shoulder and they walked toward the fountain that whispered soft music. Mayhap once the water had been tossed into the air and then fallen back into the bronze pool, where sculptured fish swam, but now the water only swirled in the basin.

  She bent to dip her fingers into it, and the last rays of the setting sun added to the auburn glow of her hair. When she straightened, he was amazed to see that her smile had vanished.

  “Lucais, I have something I must ask you.” She sat on the edge of the fountain where the tiles were engraved with what looked like autumn leaves. “Have you seen Neilli?”

  “Neilli?” He shook his head, astonished. Although he had not known what she wanted to ask him, he had not expected her to speak of her cousin when he brought her to this place where they could enjoy the music and the long twilight and the chance to be alone. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

  “Good.”

  “Good? Why? Is she angry at me again?”

  Anice stood and went to the edge of the lower terrace. She ran her fingers along the top of the railing, and he wished she would stroke him as lightly. “No, she is not angry at you.”

  “I guess there must be a first time for every experience.” He pressed his lips to her nape. “Such as this.”

  When her breath burst from her in a startled gasp, he slid his finger along her bare shoulder. In its wake, his lips sampled her soft skin that was lightly freckled. He laughed softly, then let his tongue glide over it. She gripped his arm around her waist and leaned back against him. He contracted his arm, pulling her even closer.

  She moaned and turned in his embrace to face him. He saw her eyes widen in the moment before he continued to trace a path amid her pale freckles. It led down along the curved neckline of her gown. When his tongue brushed the curve of her breast, he knew he was being a fool. He had spent so many nights not able to sleep as his fantasies sent a desperate need through him. How much more tormenting would they become when he imagined kissing her even more intimately when this fine silk was not between them?

  He could not answer that question as her hands guided his mouth to hers. Each of her ragged breaths was an invitation to ecstasy. Her tongue grazed his as he sought deep in her mouth, and he was sure that he was about to explode with the power of a barrel of gunpowder.

  She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead. Every inch of her was as sweet … he assumed. He would be delighted to discover that.

  Something jostled Lucais in the back. He spun and then laughed when he came almost nose to nose with Bonito. When Anice stepped past him to stroke her pet’s head, he said, “You have quite a watchdog in your llama.”

  “Bonito watches over all lost lambs in his herd.”

  “Are you a lost lamb?”

  She scratched the llama’s ears before looking back at Lucais. “I have been. Now I have Bonito, Pippy, and all the Kinlochs to watch over me.”

  “And me?”

  “Are you watching over me too?” She put her fingers in the middle of his chest, and his heart thudded beneath them.

  Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “I have never met anyone who needed less looking over than you. You have made for yourself the life you wanted.”

  “I thought I had.” She drew her hand away and went back to the fountain.

  “But you haven’t?”

  She looked up at him. “Not completely. Not yet.”

  Lucais wondered if he was hearing what he thought he was. From the day she had returned his gun to him, he had enjoyed flirting with her as he wooed her into surrendering her lips to his eager kisses. He had come to admire her quick wit as well as her slender form and had sought any opportunity to be with her. This had been fun.

  Was she speaking of more? If she had an inkling of the truth, she might not be so eager to speak from her heart. He had been dishonest with her long enough.

  Kneeling by where she sat, he took her hands and folded them between his. “Anice, there is something I need to tell you.”

  “I wager,” said Neilli Kinloch as she walked toward them, “that you do.”

  Lucais came to his feet as Anice jerked her hand from his. Her fingers had become rigid at the sound of her cousin’s voice, and he noted how her knuckles were pale when she clasped her hands in her lap.

  “Why did you leave the party?” Anice asked.

  Miss Kinloch laughed, amazing Lucais, for the sound held only warmth. Her laughs in his company had always been whetted with anger.

  “I could ask you the same.” She yelped when Bonito poked at her with his nose. With a shudder, she edged past Lucais to keep him between her and the llama.

  “Bonito will do you no harm,” Anice said.

  “He is a bizarre beast, and I do not want him near me.”

  Standing, Anice put her arm over the llama’s back. “He will leave you alone if you stay away from him.”

  “You can be sure,” Miss Kinloch replied with a bit of her usual heat, “that I shall keep as much distance as possible between us.” Her smile returned as she looked up at Lucais. “I came out here to tell you that we are so pleased you could join us tonight, Mr. MacFarlane.”

  Lucais wondered if one of the great stones being dug out of the hillside had glanced off his head. That was the easiest explanation for why Miss Kinloch welcomed him with such obvious delight. Previously he had found as little welcome here as in most houses in the village.

  “Or should I say my lord?” Miss Kinloch added a bit of coquettery to her smile.

  The curse exploding through his head was halted by his taut lips. How had the tale of his title reached Miss Kinloch’s ears? Save for the help the men from Chester Hills had given during the fire at the road camp, there never was any association between the residents of Killiebige and the estate on the other side of the river. When he had been growing up in Chester Hills, he had come into the village only once. He had been sneaking across the river in spite of his father’s orders to remain on the family’s lands. It had not mattered, for no one had guessed a naughty boy who played with the children of the village was the son of the marquess on the far side of the Abhainn an Uruisg.

  Now he understood what had baffled him throughout the days since the fire. The doors of Ardkinloch had not been thrown wide because the stubborn Kinlochs finally had realized that the road and bridge were an excellent idea. Instead, they were welcoming him because they wanted some connection with the title that burdened him.

  Some connection? As he saw the possessive sparkle in Miss Kinloch’s eyes, he knew the connection she was considering began with a betrothal and ended with vows in front of the minister. She would not have cared a rap if he were as old as the castle r
uins on the hill or a sot. All she saw was the chance to gain a share of the title.

  How he wished he could simply hand it to her! Then he would be done with its yoke, which he had come here to escape.

  “Neilli, we should not monopolize Lucais’s time,” Anice said as she came to stand beside her cousin. Her face was drawn with dismay. “I know so many of the others wish to congratulate him on his excellent shooting.”

  His hand rose toward her, his fingers craving to curl around her soft cheek. He forced it back to his side. How many more ways could he prove that he was an idiot? Neilli Kinloch was lathering him with compliments in an effort to find out more about his title.

  Had it been the same with Anice? Something might have tipped her off to the truth that he had thought was left behind in England. Left behind when he had come here to escape the marriage-minded Gwendolyn, who had ignored him before he became his father’s heir. Then she’d made every effort to let him know how much she would enjoy being his wife. She had had an identical expression of avarice as was now in Miss Kinloch’s eyes.

  He looked past her to Anice. When she lowered her eyes, clearly unwilling to meet his, he said quietly, “Excuse me.” He walked away, but it was useless. That fury followed.

  Fury and regret. He had thought Anice Kinloch was different. Not only was she as deceiving as any other Kinloch, she was the same as any other woman he had met, more interested in his title than the man he was. It was his misfortune that he had been willing to wager his heart, because he had lost both his wager and his heart.

  Thirteen

  Anice took a step to go after Lucais, then paused. Whirling, she asked, “Neilli, how could you be so unthinking? You should not have spoken to Lucais like that.”

  “And why not?” She fluffed her blond hair and smiled. “If he truly is a peer, he should own to that. After all, he has obligations. He needs to find a wife with all speed to obtain himself an heir.”

  “He could have found a wife in London if that had been his wish.”

  Neilli continued to preen as if she stood in front of a glass. “Mayhap he was unable to find there the woman he wished to be his lady and share his title.”