A Highland Folly

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Watch out for that hole in the floor,” she said as Sir Busby inched toward where she stood. “It opens deep into the cellars.”

  “Lady Kinloch! Thank heavens, you are safe. I heard there are some folks believed to be up here.”

  “I am looking for Neilli.”

  “For Neilli?” His face lost its color so rapidly that she could see it blanch even in the dim light.

  When Lucais held his torch higher, she frowned. It was burning down quickly. She gasped as the floor seemed to move beneath her feet. The crash of stone outside warned that the tower was ready to topple, taking the wall with it.

  Lucais grabbed her hand. “We cannot stay here any longer.”

  “But Neilli—”

  “Getting yourself killed will not help her.”

  She nodded, although she hated having to agree. She had hoped against every reasonable hope that she would be able to find Neilli as she had Parlan. Letting Lucais guide her around the hole, she looked back. Neither Pippy nor Sir Busby had moved.

  Sir Busby knelt. “Oh, sweet heavens!”

  Anice watched in disbelief as one of the shadows moved not more than a few feet from where she had been standing. Blond hair glistened dully in the light from the brand when Sir Busby gently drew Neilli out from beneath a table that had almost collapsed to the floor. That small space had been enough to save her from being crushed.

  “Her foot is caught!” he shouted.

  Taking the brand Lucais shoved into her hand, Anice watched as the two men began to lift pieces of broken rock away from where Neilli had not opened her eyes. The stones overhead creaked another warning, and she heard warnings called from outside. The tower walls shifted with a groan that sounded like a behemoth awaking.

  Pippy raced out of the tower, then turned with a low bark. Anice did not move, although she was tempted to follow him.

  “Pull gently!” Lucais said tightly, “but be quick. I don’t know how long I can hold this up.”

  The shadows moved, and Sir Busby shouted, “She is out.”

  Anice rushed to where her cousin was lying. Her right foot was obviously broken, but, except for a few scrapes, she seemed unhurt.

  Another shower of rocks cascaded down outside the tower. Lucais took Anice’s hand. When she moaned, he did not release it as he ordered, “Get out of here. Now! Sir Busby—”

  “Help Lady Kinloch,” he ordered as he lifted Neilli carefully. “I will bring Miss Kinloch.”

  Looking back as she went with Lucais, Anice watched Sir Busby struggle to get to the opening. She stepped out onto the scree and, along with Lucais, turned to help guide Sir Busby out. They steered him toward the scorched grass beyond the courtyard.

  Shouts rang in her ears but vanished as rock and mortar screamed in its death throes. Lucais pulled her to him as the ground shuddered and rocks dropped from the tower. They were knocked from their feet.

  Wanting to remain in his arms, she crawled to where her cousin was lying. She smiled when she saw Neilli’s eyes were open. Sir Busby’s face could barely contain his smile as he carefully lifted Neilli again.

  Anice blinked back tears of relief as Neilli slowly raised her arm and draped it over Sir Busby’s thick shoulder. Lucais’s arm went around her own waist, and he led her down the brae after Sir Busby. Pippy, strangely subdued, walked with them, staying close.

  “You cannot doubt the truth now,” Lucais said softly. “Your cousins must have taken the gunpowder before the fire. Whatever they planned tonight went amiss.”

  “I hope you are wrong,” she said, although she recalled the gray dust on Neilli’s gown. Had that been gunpowder? No, she would not jump to conclusions. That gray dust might have been simply dirt from the new road, because it had littered Mr. Potter’s clothes as well.

  “The facts are clear.”

  “I know, but I hope you and the facts are wrong.” She gasped when Sir Busby stumbled, but he kept his balance and did not drop Neilli. Putting her hand over her stomach that was knotted with fear and despair, she added, “You need not chide me for ignoring the truth. I can see the truth, but I want to be certain before I accuse them of such a horrible thing. Once I speak with them, I will share with you what they tell me.”

  His voice was tight. “Do you believe they will tell the truth?”

  “I hope they will.” She sighed.

  Lucais brushed her tangled hair back from her face. “I’m sorry, Anice.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “That your cousin’s care is going to be a further burden on you.”

  “I am simply happy that they are alive.” She sighed. “Although you are right. I have come to depend on their help in tending to all the tasks around Ardkinloch.”

  “You astonish me.”

  “Why?”

  He jumped down from a tall rock and held out his hand to assist her. “You shoulder every responsibility without complaint.”

  “They are my family. Could I do any less?”

  “Yes.” He held up his hand that was covered with dried blood. “Let me say that again. Others could do less, but I doubt if you can. You are so determined to have this family be the family you have longed for that you will do anything to keep it together.”

  “And what is wrong with that?”

  “What is wrong is that they will suck every bit of life from you with their demands. You know that as well as I do, for you were trying to flee them when we met on this very spot.” He tapped a tree where the bark had been chipped away by the ball. “Do not let their foolishness become yours.”

  “As you did?”

  His eyes narrowed in the dawn’s thin light. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it is the truth, isn’t it?” She blinked back tired tears. She had not thought she would be speaking these sharp words to him in the wake of having her cousins nearly killed, but they refused to remain silent. “Yes, I may wish to escape the house and my family on occasion, but I came here because I wanted to be part of a family. I did not flee to hide here as you did.”

  “Anice—”

  “I do not know what you are fleeing from, Lucais. If you would be honest with me, I might be able to understand.”

  When her name was shouted from the gates of Ardkinloch, she did not wait for his answer, because she feared it might not be the truth she needed to hear. She rushed down the brae, Pippy at her heels. She shivered. There were so many questions that must be answered once she was certain both Parlan and Neilli would be all right. Those questions could not wait much longer, for she feared another disaster would resonate through the glen, doing even more damage.

  Seventeen

  The next afternoon, Anice still had not gotten any of the answers she sought. She wished she had given Lucais a chance to explain before she came back to Ardkinloch, but she had thought she should oversee the care given to her cousins.

  You are so determined to have this family be the family you have longed for that you will do anything to keep it together. Lucais’s voice echoed in her head, refusing to let her ignore the truth. She was that determined, and she had been seduced into paying no attention to what was happening around her. Not by her love of her family, but her love for Lucais. It had filled her mind, keeping all other thoughts away.

  Lucais had sent a message that morning asking how her cousins fared, adding that he was unsure when he would be able to call. He was overwhelmed with trying to save what was possible of the work the roadmen had done. Even if he had come to the manor house, she doubted if she would have had a chance to do more than greet him.

  The sheep had scattered across the braes in their panicked escape from the explosions. It took most of her extended family along with Pippy and Bonito to help gather them back. Mayhap no one else took note, but she noticed how both her dog and her llama stayed close to her. She wondered if their ears still reverberated from the concussion of the explosions and if their senses continued to burn from the acrid smoke.

  Only Aunt Coira did not
join in finding all the missing sheep on the brae. She walked endlessly back and forth between Parlan’s rooms and Neilli’s. Parlan had not regained his senses until the middle of the afternoon. His disorientation suggested he was being honest when he told Anice that he did not remember anything about going up to the castle or what had happened there.

  Anice was not so certain Neilli was being as truthful when she claimed to have forgotten as well. She could not accuse her cousin of lying, when Neilli had suffered a broken leg as well as bruises that marched in deep shades across her face. Neilli had banished all mirrors from her room and refused to see anyone until Sir Busby called as the sun was nearing the western mountains.

  “You must see him,” Anice said quietly as she stood by her cousin’s high tester bed that was draped in cranberry velvet. “If he had not chanced to see you in the tower, you would be dead now.”

  “I look hideous.”

  “He saw what you looked like when he carried you down to Ardkinloch all by himself.”

  “All by himself? Busby did that?”

  Anice hid her surprise at what Neilli called their neighbor. Was it possible that her cousin had some affection for the baronet?

  “Yes, Neilli,” she replied. “Sir Busby has depths you may not have noticed because you have known him all your life. He insisted that no one else need help bring you down the brae because he did not want any chance of someone violating your modesty. He even carried you up the stairs to this room. You don’t recall?”

  Neilli ran her fingers along the quilt that was pulled up nearly to her chin. “I only recall feeling something I thought I never would again. I felt so wondrously safe and loved. As if Papa held me.”

  “So will you speak with Sir Busby?”

  “I look hideous.”

  Taking a comb, Anice carefully smoothed her cousin’s hair back from her face and draped it over Neilli’s lacy wrapper so her hair fell forward across the quilt, offering a demure pose that would suggest that no improprieties would be tolerated. Anice almost laughed at that thought. Sir Busby was as correct as Reverend Dole. Only his obviously deep anxiety over Neilli’s well-being would have brought this bold request to visit Neilli in her bedchamber.

  “There,” Anice said. “You look lovely now.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes.” Even her exasperation with her cousin’s vanity seemed precious today, for she knew how easily Neilli could have died. She hesitated, then said, “Neilli, if you recall anything—anything at all—about what took place at Dhùin Liath, please tell me.”

  “My memories all are as cloudy as the smoke from the fires.” Neilli looked down at the quilt and plucked at the threads holding the pattern together. Because she was distressed or because she was trying to fill Anice’s head with bangers?

  With a sigh, Anice went to the foyer, where Sir Busby was waiting with a patience she could not have had. She watched him rush up the stairs and was not surprised to hear him greet Aunt Coira, who would insist on all proprieties being maintained.

  Anice went into the parlor that overlooked the river. The ridge was now edged with huge boulders and sections of what had been part of the tower. The roadmen’s work had been destroyed or damaged. Only one of the support columns in the middle of the river was intact. The others were broken or as tilted as the tower. Each one would need to be torn down and rebuilt.

  Already she had heard rumbles amid the villagers that the project would be abandoned or that it was doomed never to be completed. She had not said anything, but she could not imagine Lucais letting any setbacks keep him from making the road and bridge a success.

  Sitting, she picked up the box of papers she had set aside the previous night before she went to bed. It was one of only two or three that she had not examined. Her hopes that she would find what Lord Chesterburgh believed was here dimmed, yet she was as determined to find that letter as Lucais was to build his dashed road.

  She scanned the first page, which appeared to be another of the endless collection of reports on the herds and the prices of wool. When she picked up the next, her gaze was caught by the words Chester Hills. She ran her finger along the florid writing, trying to decipher the letter that seemed to be half in Gaelic and half in English.

  “Lady Kinloch, I want to thank you so much.” Sir Busby bustled in without waiting for her to acknowledge him. He sat beside her, again without waiting to ask her permission. His smile that was as broad as his belly explained why he had set aside his usually impeccable manners. He was bubbling over with happiness.

  “We should thank you,” she said, setting the letter back into the box exactly as she had found it. She would puzzle the words out later. “If it had not been for your devotion to your belief that we would find Neilli, she would have been killed when Dhùin Liath’s keep fell. Our family is in your debt, Sir Busby.”

  The joy in his eyes dimmed as he said, “Speaking of your family, my lady, I would ask if you had given my offer any further consideration.” Not giving her a chance to answer, he raised his hands and added, “I know you have had other more important issues on your mind.”

  “Yes, I have, but I have given your kind offer much thought.” She gave him a gentle smile. “Sir Busby, you are too good a friend to me and to the Kinlochs for me to be anything but honest with you.”

  He nodded but, surprisingly, said nothing. She wondered why he had chosen now to become a taciturn Scot.

  She took a deep breath and released it. “That is why I must urge you to follow your heart instead of your head.”

  “That is not—”

  “Do not say anything about good sense or what is best for our families. When you are asking a woman to be your wife is not the time for rational thought. It is the time to heed what might be the most irrational urges you have ever known.” Her voice softened. “You do not love me. You love Neilli. I saw that when you rescued her from the rubble in Dhùin Liath. I see that now in your eyes, when you have assured yourself that she will recover. You should ask her to marry.”

  His face grew long. “It was my understanding that she fancies a match with Lucais MacFarlane.”

  “I am not so certain of that. I think she has realized that some of her dreams are nothing but delusions. That elegant life she yearned for in London may no longer have seemed so important when she feared she would die.” Putting her hand on his arm, she smiled. “And I know she is so grateful to you for saving her.”

  “But gratitude is hardly affection.”

  “True, but how will you know if it is more unless you ask her? You may be pleasantly surprised with her answer.”

  “Or deeply disappointed.”

  “Isn’t it worth the cost of your dreams to try to attain them?” Anice could not help flinching. That very question was the one she had tried to ignore for the past fortnight. She loved Lucais, and she dared to believe he loved her too. Something, she could not guess what, had created a chasm between them. She must ask and learn the truth … no matter the consequences, because not knowing was going to strangle this love until it died.

  Sir Busby nodded and set himself on his feet. Taking her hand, he pumped it enthusiastically. “Thank you, my lady. Your advice is sage, and I will think of the best way to present my suit to Miss Kinloch on our next meeting.”

  “Just be honest with her.” Anice’s eyes twinkled as she added, “And be certain to mention that you, as Sir Busby Crenton, are asking for her hand.”

  “Why?”

  “Just trust me, as Lady Kinloch, to know what is best for my cousin.”

  He gave her an odd smile, obviously wanting to ask another question but fearing he would overstep the canons of polite society if he did. Bowing his head, he bustled out of the parlor.

  Anice came to her feet. Rubbing her hands together, she went to the window again. The sun would soon be gone behind the mountains, so she should wait until the morrow to seek out Lucais and ask the questions she should have long ago. And insist that he give her the
answers.

  She could not wait through another sleepless night. It was time to follow the advice she had given to Sir Busby. She had wasted enough time and heartache on trying to guess if Lucais loved her or only desired her. It was time to discover the truth … even if the cost of the truth was losing the last hopes within her heart.

  “The road camp?” Reverend Dole shook his head. “There is no easy way to get there from here, Lady Kinloch. If you need to speak to one of the Englishmen, I would suggest you send a note to have him come to Ardkinloch.”

  Anice looked at the pile of rubble in front of her and wished that she had been wise enough to change into her breeches before attempting what had once been a pleasurable walk through the center of the glen. From Ardkinloch, she had not guessed that the dirt and rock reached higher than her hand raised over her head.

  How had Mr. Potter climbed over this? She could imagine Lucais scaling it with ease, because she had seen how easily he managed the brae. As a Scot, he was accustomed to the rough terrain. But Mr. Potter? Mayhap he had wanted to impress Lucais by helping out.

  “If I go around,” she began to say.

  “It stretches out nearly to the curve in the river beyond Chester Hills.” Reverend Dole hastily looked away. “Pardon me, my lady. I should not have mentioned that place in your presence.”

  “You shouldn’t have mentioned Chester Hills? It is absurd to pretend the estate and its owners do not exist.” She glanced up at the brae. “I think I will try going around in that direction.”

  “It is soon to be dark, my lady. If you were to fall, you could break a leg.”

  She smiled and put her fingers to her mouth. Her whistle was answered by Pippy’s bark. “I shall have company. If something were to happen to me, Pippy will get help.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  “He helped us find Neilli.” That was not completely the truth, but it was not a lie either.

  Bidding the minister a good evening, Anice glanced over her shoulder until he had disappeared among the houses. She kilted her skirt up to an indecorous height and climbed the steep brae. It was easier than she had guessed, because she could use the wall of rock to find handholds when her feet threatened to slip out from beneath her.