A Highlander's Gifted Love (Blood 0f Duncliffe Series Book 9)

by Emilia Ferguson

Chlodie leaned back in the coach. The day was sunny, the air warm. It was a week since her wounding and, though she was weak yet, she was being taken home. Beside her, Domnall leaned on the leather padded seat and watched the scene flash past.

  “A good coach ride, this. Very smooth.”

  Chlodie smiled up at him fondly. Her shoulder ached, though Merrick had packed it with a mix of herbs that made it barely tangible. The coach – the big one, loaned to them to speed their way home by Lady Adeline – rolled slowly south-west. To Chlodie’s manor.

  “It was kind of them,” she said, “to loan us the coach.”

  “It was,” Domnall agreed after a moment. “Sorry. I was distracted. Just thinking about how wonderful it is to be riding back, with you.”

  Chlodie felt warmth suffuse her body. She looked up at him and smiled. Reached up and stroked his hair. Her arm tired and she let it fall to her side soon, though she did it reluctantly.

  I wonder what Father will say?

  On the whole journey, full of joys, that was the one uncertain path. What would her father, Lord Invermore, say, when he discovered she had married a lieutenant – Baron Dunning’s son – in secret? Without permission?

  “He’ll have to take it as it comes,” Domnall had opined, when she had asked him what they would do about her father. “After all, it is as it is.”

  Chlodie had nodded. She was eight and twenty, she was married. That should, after all, be enough for him.

  He always said he never thought I’d manage to make an advantageous connection anyway.

  He had put only scant effort into finding a match for her, and she had always – sorrowing – assumed that it was because of how low his opinion was. Therefore, she had never made an effort to do anything by herself, either.

  The scene outside the window was changing from leafy forest to hills and valleys. Chlodie watched it with interest. Domnall seemed to be too busy with some sort of piece of fabric, which he was busy tying and re-tying.

  “What is it?” she asked, when she had seen him do it for the fifth time and she could no longer hold in curiosity.

  “A cravat,” he said.

  “Oh?” Chlodie frowned. Then she recalled. Tam had been wearing one, most days. Most of the gentry wore them, most of the time. Only Domnall and a few more of the particularly strict Highland families wore only the traditional tartan kilts and shirts, with nothing to embellish the neckline.

  Domnall looked sheepish. “I’m learning how tae knot one,” he said. “Bother the thing,” he added disparagingly, letting it drop to the seat. He had tied two knots in it, but neither of them seemed to be to his satisfaction, and he let it drop to the seat, sighing.

  “Well, I think that’s grand,” Chlodie said, looking up at him. He had a fine profile, and that lovely high forehead. He would look stunning in anything.

  “Well?” Domnall swallowed hard. Chlodie stared at him harder.

  He is nervous, she realized.

  It was a revelation. Mostly, in her childhood, she had been nervous of her father. Now, to see a grown man behaving in the same way, she felt relieved.

  It was not just me. Lieutenants who have seen battle and defied shooting have less to be afraid of than him.

  She sighed. Yes, it should sit comfortably. However, the rest would definitely be on the lookout and she didn’t want her father having the slightest chance to spoil her current wonderment.

  “When we get there…” she began, smoothing her skirts again. “I think I will start with hot water on my face. And then a good rest for a while. It will be good to be able to get out of these traveling things and into proper clothes.

  Beside her, Domnall nodded. He lifted his hand and rested it on hers, both of them feeling the softness of the skirt beneath, too.

  “I want to wash my face and hands, too,” Domnall supplied quickly. “And then we’ll take some rest.”

  Chlodie felt her heart beat faster, but she knew he couldn’t mean that sort of rest. She was highly convalescent, and her temperature threatened to go up so often that she’d forgotten what it felt like not to be chilled sometimes.

  “I cannot wait until you can see our fort,” he said.

  “I cannot wait either,” Chlodie whispered softly. “And it will be good to have you in my home.”

  He smiled and they rolled slowly up the forest pathway.

  As they neared Invermore, Chlodie felt herself tingle with the first beginnings of nausea and fear. She looked up at the house, feeling that sense of foreboding. She noticed that the feeling of nervousness was always within her, whenever she had to confront her father about something, even something relatively mundane like the herbs for strewing in the blankets.

  “Whoa!” the coachman, Hay, called out.

  Chlodie waited while the coach rolled into the yard and the driver jumped down, coming to open the door for her. She held out her hand and he took it and then she was looking up as Domnall followed, feet thumping on the flagstones. They headed to the entrance door.

  “Milady!” the maid stared at her as if she had just appeared out of thin air, or something equally unconventional and unexpected.

  “Thank you!”

  The two of them looked up at the manor together. Chlodie felt her wounds tug a little, and wondered how long it would take before she was finally well again.

  She forgot everything except joy as she walked up the path, hearing Domnall’s footsteps behind her.

  “Daughter!” a voice greeted her almost as soon as they had set foot into the downstairs hallway. “What is the meaning of this? You leave for a day and are gone for almost a fortnight! I’ll have you know I…”

  Chlodie enjoyed how calm she felt – usually, such a statement from her father would make her melt like snow in springtime, dying inside of shame. However, the moment she was away from him, she was quite certain of it.

  “Father,” she said, lifting her chin dismissively. “I had no idea you were so careful with the dates of things.”

  “I’m not careful!” he said, shouting it. Several heads turned. She saw the retainer raise a brow, and then get back to what he was doing, studiously avoiding eye contact.

  Chlodie shrugged.

  “Well, then,” she said. “I apologize for having been gone so many days. I can ask you to send to Duncliffe, if you were worried as to my whereabouts.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” he said slowly. “I…daughter? Who is this?”

  Chlodie felt herself tense up as he gestured towards Domnall, almost as if he could not speak perfectly adequately for himself.

  “This is my friend Domnall, son of the Baron Dunning,” she said slowly, letting it all sink in. “And he is going to share my life with me, from now on. In any conditions.”

  “I…” her father went red, as if she had slapped him in the face. She had a fleeting longing to do just that, though it was petty, now.

  “Well, then,” he said again, still seeming to try to get used to the idea. “Well. You can see me in my office. And please, show Lord Dunning to his room.”

  “Lieutenant Dunning,” Chlodie corrected. “He is a soldier too.”

  Her father murmured something under her breath. Then she decided to ignore it.

  Together, she and Domnall headed up the stairs to the small parlor.

  “He’s taking it better than I’d guessed,” Domnall said softly.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure,” Chlodie allowed. “Wait until I see him alone.”

  Domnall took her hand.

  “You won’t be doing that for a few days,” he said. “Now you’re going to come upstairs.”

  Chlodie blushed. She let him take her upstairs to the guest quarters and to a bed where, before, he’d slept.

  They spent some time there, though they did nothing less chaste than hugging, for her body ached. Then, at six of the clock, they went downstairs to find an early dinner.

  “Well, look at you,” the housekeeper said, warmly. She said very little about Domnall’s presenc
e, other than to mention that he should eat more vegetables.

  “You both need to eat more,” she said, looking sternly at both of them. “To keep up your strength.”

  Chlodie just smiled.

  “Thank you,” Domnall said. “For this grand suggestion. I think I will do as you request. Have you more bread loaf..?”

  Chlodie laughed and the housekeeper set off to go and find some, coming back with a delicious warmed loaf.

  They finished their meal, and then went to the upstairs bedchamber, as if on mutual agreement.

  Chlodie cleared her throat. “My father doesn’t approve,” she said.

  “Your father will have to approve,” Domnall commented. “For there’s nothing anyone can do about it now.”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “I’m glad.”

  They kissed. Conversation turned to their mutual friends.

  “It was so nice of her to lend us the coach, for as long as we needed it,” Chlodie commented softly. She was tired, and leaned back on the settee, eyes shut a moment.

  “It was nice,” Domnall said. “I hope she comes to visit, to see us. And bring Tam along, too.”

  “A fine boy,” she said.

  “A fine boy,” he echoed.

  They kissed.

  The future was peaceful for them, and so they talked of that, preferentially. What they would do, what they would see, where they would go.

  “I’d love to share the cliff tops with you,” Chlodie said, closing her eyes and recalling the soaring craggy cliffs of her northern childhood home, Invermore Manse.

  “Well, I want to see.”

  “We shall just have to go.”

  “We shall.”

  They both laughed. Planning things together seemed such a simple pleasure, yet it was rare and wonderful for them both.

  “Milady,” Domnall said softly.

  “I’m listening,” Chlodie murmured, though she was so tired from adventures and the daily travel that she sat with her eyes closed, leaning on the upholstered back of the chair.

  “Well, I was wondering if all the men managed to escape that place.”

  “You mean, McLammore’s lot,” she finished the sentence for him. He nodded.

  “I know it’s unusual, but we should do something for them,” he said.

  Chlodie nodded. “Well, then,” she said. “We shall,” she added, grinning.

  “Yes.”

  Still feeling a little apprehensive about facing her father and telling him, categorically and irrevocably, her news, Chlodie leaned back and closed her eyes.

  That was a problem for tomorrow. Which was yet far along. Today was very present, though, and very precious.

  She leaned over and kissed him and closed her eyes, feeling the sweetness of his lips moving gently and insistently over hers. She pressed her body closer and felt the slow stirring of arousal that he always caused within her. Her heart thumped and her body called out for his.

  “My Chlodie,” he whispered.

  “Domnall.”

  He pressed her back against the bed and she felt her body start to shiver as he undressed her.

  Yes, she thought, tomorrow can take care of itself for now. Now, she had other things on her mind.

  MATTERS ARE SETTLED

  Chlodie’s voice was loud in the silence of her father’s office. It was evening, the fire burning in the grate, the windows showing dark sky beyond them. She stared at him, amazed. He frowned up at her, the habitual expression of weary contempt still present.

  “Father, but you can’t…” she protested.

  “Well, why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “I have been here all alone for…two weeks now. Since my own daughter seems so preoccupied, I might as well make shift for myself, eh?”

  She bit her lip, holding back her retort. She had a sense that perhaps he spoke to provoke her, but as it happened his statement worked very well to her advantage.

  “You could consider it,” she said, speaking more slowly. “After all, Invermore Manse has need of occupation, and Mr. Stanmore is getting too frail to take care of it for us alone…”

  “Yes, yes!” he waved an airy hand dismissively. “I thought of all that,” he said. “You truly think I should go? What will become of you here, eh?” His brow rose. He looked almost expectantly at her. “A lass who can barely manage her own daily requirements? You’d have the place overrun by occupiers or falling into disrepair before a month was done. And with a lieutenant by your side? You think he won’t go rushing off to war? If the Hanoverians don’t arrest him.”

  Chlodie sighed inwardly. That was typical of him. He wanted her to say she couldn’t manage without him, that he couldn’t possibly go to the Manse and leave her here in Invermore House alone. He likely wasn’t planning to move at all – this was just his way of trying to make himself indispensable.

  All the same, what he suggested worked to her advantage.

  “Mayhap I couldn’t manage alone, Father,” she said, trying not to smile. “But, as it happens, what if I did not need to?”

  “What?” he looked at her with disbelief. “You think a lass like you is going to hold any sway here for long? You with your strange ways, and…”

  “And someone who loves me.”

  He stared at her. Suddenly, Chlodie had the peculiar feeling that, for the longest time, she had been wearing shackles and now someone had struck them off. The look in his eyes was fearful and uncertain. His power shrank into nothing, and her light steadily brew.

  “But…” He pushed his chair back and stood. Chlodie moved a little away as he came around the desk toward her. He looked bewildered, his pace slow. He frowned at her.

  “You really think he loves you? Only I care for you, in all the world.”

  Chlodie’s throat tightened with pain. I could almost have felt compassion for him. If he had shown me that he was not intent on shackling me to him with chains of shame, I could have lived here, with him. But now? Let him go back to the Manse. I shall not fret about him.

  She walked down the stairs, hearing his steps behind her. When she reached the bottom, she went to the parlor. She heard him follow her in.

  “Ungrateful daughter! After all these years, when I have sheltered you, despite your frail mind…”

  In the parlor, she saw someone get to their feet. A tall form blocked the fall of light from the window. Domnall stepped into view.

  “I am grieved to hear you talking to my wife thus. I had hoped to meet you under other circumstances,” Domnall said frostily. “But it seems you have chosen to make matters harder than they ought to have been.”

  “Your…you..?” Her father was, for once, speechless. He turned and stared at Chlodie. “You dare to let this fellow insult your father like that?”

  “I haven’t insulted you,” Domnall said reasonably. “You insulted Chlodie, however. I would request an apology, save that I think it would mean little to her now.”

  “Oh.”

  Suddenly, her father seemed to have nothing to say. His ranting, cruel side was something he never exposed to strangers. It was only her, and, to a lesser extent, some of the more longstanding servants, who ever saw it. In the face of a stranger, he stopped talking immediately.

  “Well, then. There’s naught I can do.”

  “Well, no,” Chlodie said mildly. “You can’t change the fact of what I did, or what you have done. Not now.”

  “Um, well, then.” He squinted up at her, and then shot a look at Domnall. It was almost fearful and Chlodie felt something flare in her chest, seeing him, for once, the one who was afraid. “Then, I ought to go to the Manse, eh? It’s cold there in the winter, and I might die of the chill, but, since my own daughter doesn’t care a tuppence, I suppose you…”

  “You will be well cared-for, at the Manse,” Domnall spoke firmly, cutting off his monologue of woes. “It can be made warmer, if you take firewood from our stocks here at the House. And you can do whatever it was you had planned to do when Chlodie wed
. Or, had you not planned for that?”

  Her father licked his lips. He looked across the room at the fireplace. Chlodie felt rage well up inside her as she realized that no, he had made no provision in his mind for that event. He had simply assumed that she would stay here in the forest and look after him – that she would be too shamed, too broken, to think of leaving.

  “Well, then,” he said. “Since there is nothing I can do, I take my leave of you. I will take the coach to Invermore tomorrow. It will stay at the Manse, since it seems you will have no need to be traveling.”

  Chlodie bit her lip. The final shot of taking the carriage was simply petty. She nodded.

  “As you wish.”

  Behind her, she felt Domnall’s fingers grip her fingertips. She squeezed back and felt her heart flood with affection and warmth for him.

  Her father did as he had said. The next morning, early, they heard the coach depart. Chlodie, lying beside Domnall in the bed, sat up and looked out of the window, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Part of her felt swamped with regret and guilt, and the rest of her felt light and happy, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Domnall?” she whispered to him. “I shouldn’t have let him go. Should I? He’s right – I am a wicked daughter.”

  “He was never a father to you,” Domnall said softly. “And besides, he’ll be perfectly cared for at the Manse. You yourself have said it is just as well-staffed as here.”

  “Yes. But it’s colder, and…”

  “And he can well afford to keep it warm. You know that as well as I do, Chlodie. He’s not about to let himself freeze to death. He has made you take care of him for far too long.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They lay side by side, the quiet morning sounds seeping through the walls. She heard the slow trundle of a coach up the gravel path, the sound of four horses walking down the drive. When the gate clanged shut, she felt her whole body relax abruptly, as if she was a marionette and the strings had broken. She rolled over and laid beside Domnall, feeling something that she had never felt before. Free.

  She was happier, right now, than she had ever been.

  She was beside somebody whom she truly loved.