She should say good riddance to Lucais MacFarlane. If he chose to believe the half truths that had been repeated along the Abhainn an Uruisg, then she could get him to own to his mistake only by showing him what the marquess had hinted would answer so many questions. Until then, she should not waste another thought on this mannerless cad whose heart was clearly as hard as the stones he was using to build his dashed bridge.
Her laugh was bitter on her lips. Did she think she could push him out of her mind—out of her heart—as easily as he had walked out of Ardkinloch? So many times, her mother had warned Anice to watch over her heart, for its beat could drown out the cautioning of her good sense.
She wished now she had listened.
Fourteen
How had Mother managed to overcome this pain of being left without the one she loved? Not just once, but over and over and over again.
Anice sat on the floor of her grandmother’s sitting room and gazed up at the ceiling. She had been searching through her grandmother’s rooms for the past two days. Finding forgotten miniatures of past Kinlochs and beads that had been tossed into a box would have been more interesting if she had not been determined to find the letter Lord Chesterburgh had spoken of.
She rubbed her forehead, although her heart ached worse than her head. No matter how much she pretended that she was intrigued with the treasure hunt the marquess had suggested, she knew she was continuing this futile search to keep from thinking about Lucais.
Rising, she went to the wide window that offered an excellent view of the Abhainn an Uruisg. The river seemed oblivious of the quartet of stone pillars that were being raised in its center, a project that had been begun the day after the gathering here at Ardkinloch, more than a fortnight earlier. From here, the columns did not look much taller than the roof of the sheepfold, and she knew the buttresses would need to be twice as tall to support the iron that would bridge the gap between the hill on the river’s other shore and the ridge below the old castle.
She looked up at the ruined walls of Dhùin Liath. More than once in the past week, she had seen lights from one or more lanterns up there. Her visit to the castle the previous week had gained her nothing. Whoever had been there had not left even as much as a broken shovel as a hint to why they were there.
Resting her cheek against the window molding, she closed her eyes. Mayhap the lights had come from some lovers who had decided the old castle was the perfect place for a tryst. She should be understanding of that, because she had delighted in each kiss and caress she and Lucais had been able to steal. All she was now was sad.
Lucais had not returned to Ardkinloch. The day after the contest and the assembly, his men had taken the rest of his belongings to the new camp they had set up on the riverbank. Each morning, she awoke to the sounds of work from the river, so she knew Lucais was very busy overseeing the construction of the bridge. The work did not end until the sun had vanished beyond the western hills. She guessed he continued his own planning until long after dark.
He must be so busy, yet, before, he had never been too busy to seek her out along the brae. Then, he had asked her advice and teased her about her pets and shared his concerns about the project. Now …
“Have you found what you are looking for?” asked Aunt Coira from the doorway.
Anice turned and shook her head. “I am afraid not.”
Her aunt smiled as she picked up a box of ribbons Anice had dug from one of the trunks that had been brought from the attics. “These are lovely.”
“Take them if you can use them.”
“Neilli ripped one of her gowns.” Aunt Coira sighed. “That lass sometimes thinks she is a woman and sometimes thinks she is a child. She runs about on these ridges when she should be thinking of finding herself a husband.”
“She often thinks of that.”
“Aye, and she tells me that she has her eye on someone who will be an excellent match.”
Anice quelled her shudder. Aunt Coira’s tone suggested that she knew exactly whom Neilli had picked and quite approved of the prospect. “I thought she had her heart set on a London Season.”
“You know young hearts. They are so fickle.” She laughed and lifted some of the ribbons out of the box. “With these, I can mend the gown that Neilli tore while wandering about with Parlan last night.”
“Last night?”
“Those two enjoy being out at night so much lately that I would suspect they were about to turn into owls.”
“Where do they go?”
Aunt Coira smiled. “You would have to ask them. They are too old to tell their mam where they are bound. If it were just Neilli alone, I would be fretting that she was meeting her young gentleman. With Parlan to serve as her chaperon, I do not worry.” Settling the long box on her arm, she reached into the trunk and pulled out another box, which contained more ribbons. “I shall see which of these is best for Neilli’s gown. Thank you, Anice.”
“You need not thank me. This house belongs to the whole family.”
Aunt Coira’s smile faltered. “What gave you that idea, Anice? Surely you knew that all of this belongs to you.”
“The lands, yes, but—”
“All of it. My mother was most insistent on keeping everything together. She believed that this was the only way to make sure that we did not become subservient to those who live on the far side of the river.”
Anice sat, drawing her legs up beneath her. “Aunt Coira, do you know what started the dissension between Ardkinloch and Chester Hills?”
“In the Civil War, they sided with—”
“Surely it must have been something more than that.”
“I never heard anyone speak of anything else. The Kinlochs do not forget slights done to them.” Her mouth tightened. “Not ever.”
Anice let her shoulders sag as her aunt bustled out of the room. When Anice had first arrived in Scotland, she had assumed she would come to comprehend the odd ways of her family and grow to share their traditions and customs. How could she when she did not understand something as fundamental as why the two families on opposite sides of the river could not put behind them something that had happened so many years before?
A smile slipped across her lips. She needed to speak with someone who understood the ways of the Highlands but was not intimately part of this long-standing quarrel. Looking about the cluttered room, she walked out into the corridor. There was only one person who could help her.
Lucais MacFarlane was a Scot, and he might be able to explain to her this inexplicable stubborn streak that seemed to infect everyone among these braes. Her steps took on a joyful bounce. Even if he could not, this was the very excuse she needed to speak with him again. Mayhap in helping her decipher the odd ways of her family and neighbors, he would reveal why he had left Ardkinloch in such a huff two weeks earlier.
It was worth a try, because, if this failed, she honestly did not know what else she could do in an attempt to heal the chasm between Lucais and her.
Anice laughed as Bonito came down off the hill at a rapid pace. Rubbing his neck, she asked, “Why are you in such a hurry, mi amigo?” She laughed again when he stared at her as if startled. “Do you miss when I speak to you in Spanish? Hablamos español, Bonito.” Leaning her head against his, she sighed. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it, mi amigo? Have we been trying so hard to fit in here that we have forgotten where we came from?”
When she continued along the path toward the village, she was surprised that Bonito followed. It was not like him to leave the sheep alone. She looked up the brae to see Pippy’s ruddy coat among the grayish-white of the sheep. Mayhap Bonito had passed along his obligations to Pippy for the day. How she envied that idea! To let go of all the duties she had as head of the Kinlochs of Killiebige, even for an afternoon, would be wondrous.
Now was not the time to think of that. Now she wanted to ponder how she would be seeing Lucais in only a few minutes. She fought to keep her feet from carrying her at a full run down the hil
l. The day was warm, and arriving at the new camp with sweat sticking her hair to her forehead and nape would make her look silly.
Waving to Reverend Dole as she walked through Killiebige, she paused only long enough to bid him a good afternoon. She knew he was pleased with how well the archery contest had eased the grumbles in the village, but, as she continued along the village’s only street, she noted how conversations came to a quick halt when she approached. No doubt the villagers still were not wholly in favor of the English project.
All curiosity about the conversations vanished when Anice saw a familiar form coming down the hill and walking toward the road camp. Neilli was wearing an ethereal gown of the palest blue along with a bonnet that Anice had never seen her in before. The lace along Neilli’s sleeves matched what encircled a parasol that she had tilted back over her shoulder. Gems hanging from her ears twinkled in the sunlight like twin stars.
This time Anice could not keep her feet from running. She caught up with her cousin just past the last house in Killiebige. As she called Neilli’s name, her cousin turned, her smile becoming a frown.
“What are you doing here?” Neilli demanded as Anice came to a stop in front of her.
“I could ask you the same.” Looking around, she said, “You are alone.”
“Yes.”
“Whenever I have seen you about on the braes lately, Sir Busby has been nearby.”
Neilli’s frown wavered as her eyes grew warm. “He is such an amusing fellow. I find he can make me laugh even when we are discussing such horrific subjects as how the bridge will connect our lands with those of Chester Hills’s.”
“But he is not with you today.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I think that is obvious.” She ran her fingers along the lace on her parasol. “I got this gown to wear when paying calls in London. As I have not had the opportunity to wear it there, I thought it would do when I gave Lucais a look-in here.”
Anice shook her head. “Neilli, do not be absurd. You are not going to the road camp to disturb Lucais.”
“I can do as I wish.” She raised one brow. “Are you ordering me about because you think Lucais will dislike my attentions or because you think he will like them?”
“Do not be silly. It is for neither of those reasons.” Anice took her cousin’s hand, which quivered in hers. That made no sense. Neilli should not be anxious about calling on Lucais. If she thought to snare him as a husband, she should be excited about this call. Something was most decidedly wrong here. “Why do you want to seek him out now, when you could not tolerate the sight of him before?”
Neilli yanked her hand away and settled her parasol on her shoulder again. “I am tired of living here at the very end of the earth. I want to be where there is music and excitement and calls and I can be seen. You refuse to take me to Town.”
“Be reasonable. You know that I have not had the chance to take anyone anywhere. First I needed to learn about Ardkinloch. Then there was the lambing.”
“Do not fill my head with excuses.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I want to know the truth.”
“That is the truth.”
Neilli shook her head so hard that her gemmed earbobs bounced against her cheeks. “Even though you cannot be honest, I shall be. I intend to marry a man who can give me the life I wish.”
“A titled man?”
“Yes!” Tears fell down her cheeks as she gulped. “With his title as part of my name, I will be able to be a part of the ton. None of them can snub me again.”
Anice hesitated, unsure which comment to respond to first. Putting her hand on her cousin’s arm, she said, “I cannot imagine anyone rebuffing you, Neilli. You are so full of laughter and tidbits of poker-talk. The Polite World would welcome you with open arms whether you are Miss Kinloch or Lady Whatever.”
“They would not.”
“What are you talking about?”
She jabbed a finger in the direction of the river. “Two years ago, before the marquess’s heir died, there was a rout at Chester Hills, and I was not invited.”
“Why would you expect to be invited to Chester Hills? The Kinlochs do not even speak with the marquess and his household.”
“Be that as it may, I should have been invited.” She stuck her chin in the air. “I would have been invited if I had been part of the Polite World. Instead, because I have never been fired-off, because I live in this forgotten place, I was ignored.”
Anice realized the futility of arguing. Instead, she said, “It is my understanding that in London a woman waits for a gentleman to call upon her first.”
“This is not London.”
“True, but the ways of Town are what Lucais must be accustomed to.”
Neilli grimaced as Bonito strolled up toward them. “Bother! You have that beast trailing after you like a puppy.”
“Bonito decided to come with me today.” She stroked the llama’s neck. “I think he is lonely.” She did not add that she was, because anticipating the chance to speak with Lucais had brightened her days. Her nights were still filled with luscious dreams of being in his arms, but that only intensified her longing to see him.
Neilli tapped her foot on the dusty path. “You are going to be insistent on this, aren’t you, Anice?”
“Yes.”
“Because you don’t want me to steal any affections he had for you?”
Anice clenched her hands at her sides. “You speak as if you and I had control of his feelings. That is absurd. Lucais will make whatever decisions he wishes.”
“Then why are you going to the road camp?”
“Because of my concern about the future of the Kinloch family and what will happen when the bridge is finished. Then Chester Hills will be a very short walk away. I want to understand what happened between us and the marquess’s family.” When she saw Neilli’s eyes narrow, she hastily added, “So he cannot turn it to his advantage against Ardkinloch.”
“What does a road engineer have to do with this?”
“Lucais has called at Chester Hills.” She did not want to lie to her cousin, so she used what truth she could. “Mayhap he has learned something that will be of use.”
“And you can enjoy his bold kisses.”
A fiery pulse raced through Anice at the very thought of such pleasure, but she kept her voice even. “I must learn what I can about this disagreement, so the lands entrusted to me do not come to a woeful end.”
“I do not believe you.”
“’Tis the truth.” Although she hated saying it, for she had hoped to find some time alone with Lucais, she added, “You are welcome to come and listen to what I ask him if you wish.”
Neilli stared at her, clearly amazed that Anice would invite her to come with her to the road camp. She opened her mouth to answer. At a shout, she looked up the hill and waved.
“Is that Parlan?” Anice asked, shading her eyes with her hand, for the sun cut through the weave of her straw bonnet’s brim.
“Yes.” Neilli’s lip stuck out in a pout again. “He does not want me to call on Lucais.”
“At least he has not let his mind be changed by some silly rumor.”
“It is not silly!” Neilli turned to flounce away.
“Wait a minute.” Anice squinted. “What do you have on the hem of your gown?”
Neilli bent and muttered an oath that would have infuriated her mother. She wiped away the gray dust on her hem. “This gown was not intended for daisyville, and I fear I shall never wear it in Hyde Park or on the streets of London. It shall be ruined before my husband can escort me from assembly to assembly.” At another shout, she raised her voice. “I heard you, Parlan. I shall be right there.”
Anice tried not to smile when she watched her cousin climb up the steep hill in shoes that were meant for nothing more strenuous than a soirée. Neilli closed up her parasol and used it as a walking stick to help her up the brae where her twin brother was waiting with ill-concealed impatience. Eve
n from where she stood, Anice could hear Parlan dressing his sister down.
“Let’s go,” she whispered to Bonito, “while they are busy chiding each other.”
The path was rough between the village and the road camp, and Anice doubted if Neilli could have traversed it without doing further damage to her pretty gown. Rocks had been dug out of the hillside to build the bridge supports, leaving dirt to tumble about with abandon. Bonito nosed at some of the spots, then shook his head, spraying dirt everywhere.
Again Anice looked up at the castle that towered over the river. Had the glen been so badly scarred when Dhùin Liath’s walls were raised? Mayhap in the centuries since, the ground had settled and the grass regrown to hide the wounds left by stripping the raw rock from the brae.
As she entered the camp, Anice saw no one in it. Tools were stacked by one canvas tent, and cases of supplies next to another. Clothes were set to dry over every available surface, and she guessed the men hoped to have one set of work clothes dry each morning. Although she peered between the two rows of tents, she saw nobody. She had not thought, after what had happened before, that Lucais would leave the camp deserted. It offered an invitation for the pranksters to cause more calamity for the roadmen.
From the river came shouts and curses that drowned out the sound of the water rushing over the rocks that would be visible above the current as the summer dried up the smaller streams higher in the mountains. She walked toward the edge of the camp, where she could see the men pulling on thick ropes to lift heavy rocks to the top of the columns.
“What are you doing here?”
Anice spun and met Mr. Potter’s fury.
She realized he was not speaking to her when he snarled, “Get that beast away from me!” He swung his fist at Bonito.
The llama moved nimbly out of his reach but edged back toward Mr. Potter as Anice stepped forward.
A Highland Folly Page 17