“You are impossible!”
“I am honest.” Folding her arms in front of her, she eyed Anice up and down. “You should be too. As Lady Kinloch, you must marry a titled man who will bring honor and prestige to Ardkinloch, not chase after a low-born road engineer.”
“You are making no sense. One minute you claim he is a lord. The next you are chastising me for speaking to Lucais.”
“Speaking? Unless my eyes were quite mistaken, you were not simply speaking with him.” Neilli arched a pale brow. “You should hope that he truly is a lord, because you clearly are willing to risk your reputation to be alone with him and grant him such liberties. If Mam were to hear of this—”
“That is enough, Neilli! Aunt Coira will not hear of this unless you or I tell her, and to own the truth, I have done nothing of which I am ashamed.” Anice turned to walk toward the steps.
“I trust you will remember what being Lady Kinloch means in this glen.”
“As I trust you will.”
“Anice!”
Looking back at her cousin, Anice almost apologized for her harsh words. She could not. Neilli had been thoughtless to speak so to Lucais, and she had angered him.
Why? That little voice in the back of her mind refused to be silenced. Lucais’s reaction had been instantaneous and fierce. That was so unlike him, for he customarily looked at any comment with rational common sense.
Anice hurried up the stairs to the room where the gathering was going on in complete disregard for her disquiet. The musicians were playing a country dance, and her guests were twirling about the floor in tempo to the melody and their own laughter.
She looked past them. Had Lucais left? She did not see him anywhere in the big room. It was unsettling to think of the reasons he had walked away. Unsettling and a waste of time. She needed to talk with him and discover the truth.
Anice smiled and nodded at the people she passed but did not pause even when both Aunt Coira and Sir Busby tried to get her attention. Hurrying through the room, she went up the stairs to the guest wing of the house. Lucais seemed to like to take a refuge in his work, so he might have returned to his room to lose himself in trying to reconstruct the bridge plans.
Loud voices buffeted her as she came around the corner to the passage to the guest wing. In disbelief, she saw Parlan and Mr. Potter standing close to each other, surrounded by a half dozen other men. Parlan’s nose was bloody, and, even as she froze in astonishment, he gave Mr. Potter a facer. The roadman shouted to his companions.
“No!” Anice cried, running forward. She stepped between her cousin and Mr. Potter, who was pushing himself to his feet. Holding out her arms, she ordered, “No more.”
“Anice, stay out of this,” Parlan said. He wiped his hand against his nose, leaving a scarlet streak along his shirtsleeve. His best coat was tossed next to a small table that was covered with the shards of a vase. Water dripped off the table onto his coat.
“Why? So you and Mr. Potter can pummel each other into oblivion?” She scowled at both men, swiveling her head. She noted that the others were slinking away, clearly wanting to escape her vexation. “What is this all about?”
“Ask him!” Potter put his fingers to his lip and swore when they came back with blood on the tips. “I was returning to my room, and he ambushed me.”
Parlan raised his fists. “That is a lie, and you know it!”
Anice put her hand over her cousin’s right hand. “This will not be resolved by malleting about.”
Slowly he lowered his hands, but they remained clenched. “Don’t listen to his out-and-outers, Anice. He was poking his ugly nose into places where it did not belong.”
“Where?”
“The storage rooms at the end of this hall.”
She faced Mr. Potter. “Is that true?”
“I was in that area, that is true. But I had simply gotten lost and was turned around, going in the wrong direction.” He jutted his chin toward Parlan. “After all, I have things to think of other than which cravat to wear to this assembly.”
Anice was unsure if her cousin could control himself when Mr. Potter’s pose dared Parlan to strike the Englishman’s chin. The glare she gave Parlan warned him that she would not accept any excuse for him hitting Mr. Potter again. She was not interested in Parlan’s pout or Mr. Potter’s irritation. Every second she spent here trying to calm them was another she was delayed in speaking with Lucais.
Speaking? Unless my eyes were quite mistaken, you were not simply speaking with him. Neilli’s accusation refused to be forgotten.
Anice wanted to shout that yes, it was true. She wanted to return to Lucais to do more than ask him what was wrong. She yearned to be close to him, his lips on hers as he lured her into sweet madness. Surrounded by his strong arms, pressed to his firm chest, she could think solely of the rapture to be found in his kisses.
“I have heard enough,” she said quietly, pushing aside her own tempting thoughts. “It may be too much to ask you to apologize to each other, but I trust you can go on your separate ways without further rough-and-tumble.”
Mr. Potter turned to leave, but Parlan would not be put off so readily. Jabbing a finger at the Englishman, he snarled, “Is that all you have to say? Get rid of him and his fellows. These curs do not belong here.”
“Parlan, this is not the time.”
Her cousin scowled as viciously as Mr. Potter did at the insult. “It is time, Anice. It is time that these roadmen leave Ardkinloch. None of us wants them here.”
“Are you so sure of that?”
“I am sure of it.”
“But Neilli is not. She was smiling quite broadly when she last spoke with Lucais.” She hated using Neilli’s troublesome delusions this way, but she would not have more fisticuffs in Ardkinloch. “Nor am I sure that it would be fitting with our family’s traditions to toss our guests out into the night.”
“It’s barely past twilight.”
“There will be no further discussion of this.”
“I have no interest in discussing anything.” His hands tightened again into fists.
Anice kept her chin high as she met his gaze. “Nor will there be any bunches of fives flying about. You may not like the fact, Parlan, but the road crew are our guests until their replacement supplies arrive from England.” Turning, she added to the other man, “I bid you a good evening, Mr. Potter.”
The Englishman opened his mouth as if to retort, then seemed to think the wiser course was to say nothing. With the slightest bow of his head, he walked away. His indignant pose was ruined when he reeled into a wall before regaining his balance.
Anice whirled to face her cousin. “Have you gone queer in your attic? If Aunt Coira saw you fighting with Mr. Potter, she …” Now she sounded like Neilli. This was going nowhere.
“She would what?” Parlan demanded.
“Why were you so dashed determined that Mr. Potter not go down the hallway toward the storage rooms?” she asked, refusing to answer his question. Showing any weakness at this point might persuade him to ask other questions she did not want to answer. If he was not so furious at Mr. Potter, Parlan might be wondering why she was up here instead of among her guests below.
“I do not trust those men not to steal supplies to replace those they lost in the fire. Neither should you trust them.”
“They have done nothing to make me distrust them.” She flinched at her words, which she wanted to be true. Yet, she could not help wondering why Lucais had reacted to Neilli’s words as he had. Something was terribly wrong, but she could not guess what.
Parlan grumbled under his breath, then walked away, pausing only to pick up his coat. He muttered an oath as he shook water off it.
Anice continued toward Lucais’s room. The door was ajar, opening farther when she knocked. As she had suspected when he was absent during the brangle in the hallway, he was not there. His formal coat was thrown across a chair, and his work boots were missing from beside his bed. The top of his desk
was as clean as it had been when the room waited for someone to come to use it.
“Are you looking for Mr. MacFarlane?” asked a maid as she came along the passage.
“Yes.” Heat soared along her face, and she knew she was blushing, although she had no cause to be embarrassed at being discovered at Lucais’s door. She was the chatelaine of Ardkinloch, so it should not be deemed untoward to be standing outside this bedchamber.
“He was here, but he left a few minutes ago.”
“Did you notice where?”
The maid shrugged. “He had a satchel with many, many papers in it. I noticed because I thought it was an odd thing for a gentleman to take to a party.”
Anice called her thanks over her shoulder as she went back along the hallway at an unseemly pace. Hearing the music from the parlor, she was torn between absurd laughter and ironic tears. She had arranged for this gathering to bring the residents of the glen and the roadmen to the same place so they might learn to trust one another. It seemed to be having quite the opposite results.
Halfway down the stairs, she saw a motion on the ground floor. Black hair glistened with brilliant fire in the lights from the chandelier that brightened the stairwell.
Lucais! He was below and headed for the main door.
Her feet threatened to trip her on every step, but she flung herself down the rest of the flight and rushed to the lower stairs. Her hair tumbled out of its neat bun, scattering flowers onto the steps. When she saw him nearing a footman who was reaching for the door, she shouted his name. He paused, but she could not guess if it was by his choice or because the footman did not open the door.
Ignoring the footman who was staring at her in astonishment, Anice pushed her loose hair back over her shoulders. “Lucais, where are you going?”
“A message was waiting in my room that the supplies for the camp have been delivered to Killiebige.” His voice possessed no more emotion than the wood in the thick door. “So I thought I should go and make sure everything is as it should be.”
“Now?”
“I did not think I should linger here to dance and share refreshments with those who have done all they can to undermine my work.”
Anice recoiled from the venom that she had not expected Lucais would aim at her. “Undermine your work? You know that tonight was to be the opportunity to heal the chasm between the villagers and the road crew.”
“Really? Or did you want to get us so foxed that we would spend the whole day tomorrow bemoaning our aching heads and getting no work done?”
“Lucais, you are mad!”
“Am I? Mayhap I am seeing things clearly for the first time since I was fired upon on the hill.”
“When we were fired upon!”
Something flickered through his eyes. “Yes, when we were fired on. If you will excuse me, my lady.”
“No!” She stepped between him and the door as she had between her cousin and his assistant. Motioning for the footman to leave, she struggled to keep her chin from quivering. “What is truly wrong, Lucais?”
“I told you that—”
“Yes, but you did not know that the supplies had been delivered until after you walked away outside.” She put her hand on his arm, then drew it back. “Will you tell me what Neilli said that upset you so? She should not have been repeating gossip, I agree, but that is no reason to be so distressed that you are leaving without the courtesy of a farewell.”
Lucais set his bag on the floor and his cap atop it. “I thought you would understand that I must not waste a moment of time in getting this project under way again.”
“While you still have the goodwill of those who live in Killiebige?”
“That is part of it.”
“And what is the rest?”
“My … Anice, there are some issues I should alone remain privy to.”
She recoiled as if he had struck her as savagely as Parlan had Mr. Potter. “You have said over and over that we cannot be enemies. Why are you treating me like one?”
Before he could reply, his name was called from the stairs. Anice turned and tensed when Neilli hurried toward them. All of this had begun with Neilli’s comments. Glancing at Lucais, she saw his lips were even more rigid with fury.
“Tell me what is amiss,” Anice said softly as Neilli came down the stairs. “I would be glad to help.”
“Yes, I am sure you would.”
Anice stared in disbelief, too amazed at his harsh tone to respond. She tried to think of the right question, the one that would obtain her an answer to why he was acting as he was.
Neilli seemed to have no such uneasy thoughts. Her smile was scintillating as she swayed toward Lucais, her steps flowing as if she were walking among the clouds. Even when her smile became a pout, it offered an invitation that infuriated Anice. Why was her cousin acting this way toward Lucais?
“Are you leaving us?” Neilli asked, her voice a husky murmur.
“Yes,” he replied even more coolly than he had spoken to Anice.
“Must you?”
“Yes.”
“If you must … here.” Neilli took his cap as he reached for it. She held it tightly to her breasts, then offered it to him with a bright smile.
“Thank you.” He frowned when she continued to hold onto one side of the cap.
“You must forgive us.” Neilli eased between Anice and him.
“Us?”
She fluttered her golden eyelashes at him. “You are right. You must forgive me. I did not mean to discompose you with my comments.” Boldly she ran her fingers up the front of his shirt. “I meant only to discover the truth.”
Anice surprised herself as much as either of them when she grasped Neilli’s wrist and thrust her hand away from Lucais. “Enough, Neilli. Please excuse Lucais and me while we speak privately.”
“Speak?” Neilli gave her a superior smile. “If you think that will help, by all means.” Again, as she walked back to the stairs, her hips undulated an enticement.
Anice looked at Lucais. As she had feared, he was watching her cousin closely. Her heart contracted, and she pressed her hand over it as she closed her eyes. Opening them, she discovered he was staring at her fingers that were spread across her bodice. His gaze slowly rose to meet hers. Something flickered in his eyes, but, like a firefly sparking through the darkness, was gone before she could guess what it might be.
“I need to go.” He bent to pick up the satchel.
“If you and your men—”
“I have left instructions for them with Potter.”
She hated the sarcasm in her laugh but could not halt it as she said, “I doubt if he will deliver it to them before he cleans off the blood left by my cousin’s fist.”
“What happened?”
“What else?” She flung out her hands, hurt more by his cool tone than the pigheadedness of everyone around her. “Mr. Potter and Parlan let a silly disagreement become a milling. Both of them paid for it with their blood. Parlan’s nose will be swollen like Mr. Potter’s lip.”
“Were they hurt more than that?”
“No, because I halted them by talking sense to them. They heeded me, albeit with reluctance. They explained to me what had set them off. Mayhap if you were to offer me the same consideration, Lucais, I might understand why you are leaving just when it might be possible for the roadmen and the Kinlochs and their tenants to live peacefully.”
“The Kinlochs?” His laugh was icy as he dropped the satchel to the floor again. “Since when have the Kinlochs wanted to live in peace with anyone but those who bowed down to them? One of the first things anyone who enters this glen learns is that the Kinlochs should not be trusted, for they turn on friend and foe alike to obtain what they want.”
“Lucais!” She grasped his sleeves. “What has infuriated you so? Tell me the truth.”
He drew her hands from his sleeves. For the length of a pair of heartbeats, he held her fingers between his. He released them and picked up the bag that was bristling
with long strips of paper. “You want the truth, Anice? The truth is that I have stayed too long at this house, where my welcome has been based only on what others want of me.”
“I still do not understand.”
“I think you do, although you may not want to own to that. Mayhap not even to yourself.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “That may be why I believed what appeared to be sincerity in your eyes.”
She put her hand up to his cheek. “Lucais, I have not been false with you.”
“I would like to believe that.”
“You can. You must!”
Shaking his head, he stepped back. He opened the door. “Whether you were honest with me or not, the result is the same. I am here where I do not belong. It is time I recalled that.”
“Lucais, please explain. I—” Anice stared in bewilderment as the door closed behind him. She opened it and went out into the courtyard in front of the house.
The shadows had already swallowed Lucais. Hearing the sheep baaing, she hurried toward the fold. Mayhap he had gone this way, and, if she could catch him, he would heed her request to clarify the words that only confused her more with each one he had spoken.
Something moved in the darkness. She rushed forward, but it was only the flutter of a forgotten blanket hanging over the railing by the barn.
Closing her eyes, she sighed. She never would find Lucais now unless she went into Killiebige. Even then, he might not ease her bafflement. Why was he speaking of the past when she had hoped he would want to discuss the future they might have?
She gulped as she stared down at the river that glistened beneath the rising moon. Lucais must have learned something about the Kinlochs that had soured him to the whole family, something that Neilli’s actions tonight had exacerbated. Mayhap he had called at Chester Hills and learned something there, mayhap even the very truth that the marquess had suggested was found among her grandmother’s possessions. If she could find that letter, she might understand the whole of this.
Going to the terrace, where she had found such ecstasy in Lucais’s embrace, Anice sank to sit beside the fountain. She ignored the soft spray that pelted her as she blinked back tears. She swallowed hard when Pippy bounded toward her. Burying her fingers in his thick fur, she raised her chin.
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