Molly in the Middle

by Stobie Piel

  Miren ran over her conversation with Grainger, hoping to see new, possibly threatening meaning behind his words. Nothing came to light. "I spoke to him when he brought me from jail."

  Glenna's brow angled doubtfully. "Jail?"

  Simon shook his head and sighed. "Girl got herself in trouble after her sheep went rampaging over Garrison Campbell's lawn."

  "I see." Glenna clucked her tongue in a commiseratingfashion. "Campbell was always difficult." She paused. "How did you meet Nathan?"

  Miren hesitated. "My sheep stopped his coach, and later, he got me out of jail."

  "You'll tell me more later. But now, what do you know about this Grainger?"

  "I liked him well enough. He did say something odd, though. He said he was wild in his youth." Miren paused, straining her memory. "He said, 'A man's life gets stretched out of his control sometimes. But if he uses his head, he can get where he needs to be.' What do you make of that?"

  Glenna tapped her lip. "He wanted to be here, working at the manor, obviously. Somehow he won Irene's confidence, and he's stayed on."

  "I wonder why he'd want to. His quarters are in the stables, aren't they, Simon?"

  Simon nodded. "It's just one room, with a rickety metal cot for sleeping. He invited me over for a nip of Scotch. I'll tell you, he ain't doing it for the money or the living space."

  Glenna placed another portion of pie onto Nat's plate, which he quietly slipped to Molly. Glenna pretended not to notice, and Miren smiled. "How do Irene and her son treat him?"

  "From what I've seen, Brent ignores him on the whole, but he's friendly enough. Irene, she just passes out orders. Ain't friendly or cold. Treats him like a servantthey ain't close."

  Glenna considered the matter thoughtfully, then placed her plate on the floor for Molly to clean. "I can't imagine Irene being close to anyone, even her son. I noticed there aren't any paintings of him in the house, although a prominent cabinet displays his medals and trophies from croquet matches."

  Miren sighed. "I noticed that, too. Lady MacCallum would boast about his achievements and who he socializes with, but she doesn't care about Brent himself. She's the same way about Muffin."

  "Poor Muffin."

  Miren and Molly looked at Glenna at the same time. "Have you met Muffin?"

  "Dear little thing. She followed me all over the house, when Irene wasn't adjusting her bow or stuffing her onto that wretched cushion."

  Miren and Simon exchanged a doubtful glance. Simon cleared his throat. "Didn't sink her fangs into you?"

  "Of course not! Pomeranians are the sweetest dogs. They're very bright. When they're nervous or scared, they do tend to go on the attack. But if they're cared for properly, if they feel secure, they're good dogs. They sense their owner's emotions with great sensitivity, and act accordingly."

  Glenna stopped and sighed. "My little Squire knew what I was feeling, and when I'd had a bad time of it, he'd come to me . . ." Her voice trailed. "That was long ago, but in those early years, knowing someone cared . . ."

  Miren's eyes flooded with hot tears. "Like Molly."

  "Like Molly. A girl needs a dog."

  Nat held his cup for Molly to drink from. "A boy, too."

  Nathan hadn't returned by midnight, and Miren's fear soared. She'd gone to the manor with Simon to settle Glenna and Nat into their room, then walked back expecting Nathan to be waiting for her.

  He wasn't. Even Simon seemed worried. He stood out by the pasture gate, watching the road. Miren paced in her cottage, then joined Simon by the gate.

  "Should we go looking for him?"

  "If he ain't back by morning."

  "Morning! Simon, that's too long."

  "What do you suggest we do, girl? Head up to Inveraray Castle and ask the duke if someone's put a pinch on our Indian?"

  Miren puffed an annoyed breath. "I wouldn't phrase it that way."

  Hoofbeats silenced their conversation. Nathan appeared along the darkening road, his reins slack, humming. Miren's relief turned to suspicion. "What has he been up to?"

  "Whiskey, by the look of it."

  Nathan drew closer, and Miren's eyes narrowed to slits. His coat was unbuttoned, his cravat hung loose around his neck. "This is disgraceful."

  Nathan swung his leg forward over the saddle and jumped to the ground. He didn't stumble, so Miren guessed the whiskey hadn't destroyed his agility. He led the horse to the gate, his dark gaze fixed on her eyes.

  "I knew I couldn't leave you two alone." Nathan cackled to himself, then handed the reins to Simon. "Since you're headed in that direction anyway . . ."

  His eyes never left Miren's face. Her heart beat too fast, her knees felt weak. "What have you been doing?" Her voice came higher than she intended.

  "I'm not heading in any direction, boy!"

  "The stables, Simon. If you don't mind."

  "I mind! Oh, hell . . ."

  "Thank you."

  Simon grumbled incoherently, climbed the stone wall, and led the horse up the road.

  Miren took a quick breath. "He's not your servant."

  "And you're not my fiancée, but that doesn't stop us, does it?"

  "You're speaking beneath the influence of whiskey."

  "Only partly."

  "I wouldn't have thought the duke was a drinking man."

  "A drinking and pouring man, my dear." Nathan climbed the stone wall and took her arm. "When I left, he was sleeping soundly beneath his chair."

  Miren grimaced, but Nathan bent and kissed her cheek. "And they say Indians can't drink. I am riding, walkingin complete controlwhile my erstwhile Scottish companion lies dreaming of bottles."

  "Your head will be sore in the morning."

  "I'm fine. Have you missed me?"

  "Not at all." Miren stopped, slipped her arms around his waist, and kissed his chin. "Yes."

  Nathan smiled and bent to kiss her. He stopped and glanced toward the cottage. "Are we alone?"

  "Your mother and Nat are in the manor with Simon."

  "Good."

  Miren's heart took odd skips, her breath came shorter than usual. "Are we going to do what we did last night?"

  "Over and over, until we can't move."

  "Oh."

  Nathan held open the cottage door. Molly abandoned Flip with the sheep and took position beside the bed. "After you, angel."

  "Uncle." A small, tentative voice came from behind Nathan. He startled, and Nat clasped his cloth rabbit over his face.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Miren yanked Nathan aside and knelt, holding out her arms to the boy. "It's all right, Nat. You scared your poor uncle, that's all. Remember I told you, he's a worrywart. Jumpy."

  Nat took a hesitant step toward Miren, watching Nathan as if he might bite. "I had a bad dream."

  "Did you tell your grandmother you were leaving, Nat? She'd be scared to find you gone."

  "Gran'mama was sleeping. I wanted you."

  Molly positioned herself at the child's side. Miren took him in her arms and kissed his forehead. "What did you dream?"

  Nathan stood in the doorway, impatient. "We'll take him back to his room, and he can tell you there."

  Nat gripped Miren's sleeve. "I don't want to go back. There's a hairy fiend in the house."

  "It's just Muffin. Simon was exaggerating."

  Nat shook his head vigorously. "No, there's another hairy fiend." Nat paused and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Ithink it's in the broom closet."

  Miren repressed a smile and nodded stoically. "I never liked the broom closet in my father's house, either."

  Nathan rolled his eyes. "There's nothing in the closet."

  Miren angled her brow. "Brooms."

  Glenna came hurrying down the road, her black hair loose around her shoulders. She saw Nat and clasped her hand over her heart. She didn't go through the gate. She climbed over the stone wall and raced across the pasture to the cottage.

  "There you are! Nat, you scared me!"

  Nat bowed
his head, but Glenna didn't seem angry. "He'd taken his Scruffy, so I knew he'd gone off on his own."

  Nathan folded his arms over his chest. Miren considered his posture defensive, but why a child's presence disturbed him, she didn't know. "Take him back to your room, Mother. Keep a closer eye on him, too. We don't want him wandering"

  Nat started to cry. "There's a hairy fiend"

  "You can stay with us." Miren glanced over the boy's shoulder. "Can't he, Uncle Nathan?"

  "No."

  Miren stood up, holding Nat's hand in hers. "The matter is settled."

  Nathan didn't argue, but he didn't look happy. Maybe he was disappointed because their night of passion had been disrupted. She was, too. But Miren sensed there was more to Nathan's reluctance than thwarted lust. Nat made him nervous, tense. Odd, because David's son was a likable, easygoing little boy.

  Glenna touched Miren's arm. "Well done." She spoke quietly so Nathan wouldn't hear. Nat made a wide berth around Nathan and entered the cottage with Molly at his side. Nathan hesitated, then followed him in.

  Miren sighed. "I would have thought he'd like children."

  "He does, Miren. And he's good with them, too. Or at least, he was. When he was sixteen, he rounded them up inour village and enlisted them in all sorts of trouble. Every child in the village worshiped him.''

  "Then I don't understand. Why is he so abrupt with Nat?"

  "Nat is a good boy. Very much like his father. David adored Nathaniel. Though David was older, Nathaniel was always leader. Always the one in control, who decided what they'd play . . . Into how much trouble they'd get. Do you understand, Miren? Nathan has always been strong. He thinks other people's lives are up to him."

  Miren frowned. "I've noticed that."

  Glenna laid her hand on Miren's shoulder. "It pleases me to see that he's found a good match."

  "He doesn't want a good match. He doesn't want anyone."

  "He is afraid to want. Maybe he's trying to punish himself for what he considers his failures. Sometimes I look at my son and I see a Scotsman, stubborn and ready to fight. That's what sent him into the American war. But in many ways, he is his father's son. He's too proud, and what he believes is deep. Taregan came from the Clan of the Wolf. They are hunters, Miren. To be successful, a hunter's vision is narrow and sharp."

  Miren looked at her feet. "Was Nathan's father so difficult?"

  "They are much alike, but I had an advantage you lack. I was ten years older than my husband. And I used every year in my favor to hold my own with him."

  Miren's hopes deflated. She was twenty-four, Nathan twenty-seven. "Nathan has three years in his favor."

  "You'll have to find something else, then. My son has often been a mystery, even to me. And I know he is suffering. Go on as you see fit, Miren. He must come to his strength on his own. His heart must war with his pride, and win. It is a battle he must wage alone. His pride is strong. But a time may come, one day, when what he wants means as much."

  Nathan appeared in the doorway, frowning. "This was your idea, woman. Come here and tend this child."

  Miren sighed. "And I thought Simon was grumpy."

  Glenna patted Miren's shoulder. "I wish you well, my dear. Good night, Nathaniel!"

  "Mother."

  Glenna headed back toward the manor, and Miren entered the cottage with Nathan. Glenna's words comforted her, but the hope offered seemed slim. She couldn't influence Nathan's decision. She couldn't make him want to keep her, nor could she soften his heart toward a small child who admired him.

  Nat sat on Miren's bed with Molly. He clutched his cloth rabbit tighter when Nathan entered the room. "I will be good, Uncle."

  Nathan nodded, but didn't answer. Miren tucked Nat into her bed and pulled her quilt over Scruffy. Molly adjusted her position on the boy's feet. Nathan left the cottage without speaking, but Miren sat on the edge of the bed.

  "Do you feel better now, Nat?"

  "Molly will protect me from the hairy fiend." Nat yawned. "And Uncle."

  Miren wasn't sure if Nat meant Nathan would protect him, too, or if Molly would protect him from Nathan. She didn't dare ask. "Sleep well, Nat. We'll all protect you from hairy fiends, I promise. And in a few days we'll go in a coach to the Highland Games. They're such fun! When I was a little girl, I danced and won a medal. My father raced when he was a boy. He wasn't big enough for caber tossing or the hammer throw. And the bagpipes . . . they are so beautiful . . ."

  Nat's eyes drifted shut, a smile on his small face. Miren watched him sleep, and her heart expanded with love. He was small. His nose was small, his hands were small. He looked so alone. He was a handsome little boy, with soft, light brown hair and green eyes. Miren wondered if he resembled his father or his American mother.

  She wondered if he wanted to be in Scotland, to grow upas a laird, or if he missed his home in America. What would he do with a house full of servants, and no parents? Glenna would stay with him, but he needed a father. Someone to teach him riding and fishing and all the things boys do.

  Perhaps he would grow up on his own. She hoped he wouldn't be like Brent, desperate to please, to fit in. Maybe this desperation drove Brent to murder, because he feared the loss of his inheritance. Without his inheritance, Brent would be lost. A tragic reason for destroying another man's life.

  Miren kissed Nat's forehead, then quietly left the cottage. Nathan was standing across the pasture, staring out over the loch. Miren picked her way between her grazing sheep and went to his side.

  She touched his shoulder. "Are you angry?"

  He didn't look at her. "No."

  "I'm sorry our . . . plans were disrupted."

  He nodded, but he didn't speak. Miren wanted to hold him, to comfort him. She knew he needed comfort, but she also sensed it wouldn't be welcome. "When do we leave for Oban?"

  "The duke is leaving tomorrow. He's sending a coach for us, and he arranged accommodations in Oban."

  "Molly, too?"

  "Yes." Nathan glanced down at her. "I assume you want your dog with you in America."

  "She has to come with me." Miren glanced toward Flip. "I hope they don't miss each other too much."

  "They'll survive."

  "And my sheep. Blossom . . ." Miren fought tears. "I won't see Earnest's first lambs. I suppose they'll do well enough without me." Miren looked toward the manor. "I hope you get everything worked out. So that Nat gets to live here. Are you going to stay with him until he's settled in?"

  Nathan hesitated. "My mother will stay. I'll return to my ship once I've made the arrangements for his inheritance."

  "What about the hairy fiend?"

  A faint smile appeared on Nathan's lips. "I'll have it shot."

  Miren tried to smile, but tears filled her eyes. "How will I know how it all turns out?"

  He glanced at her. "Are we talking about the fate of the hairy fiend or something else?"

  "About our . . . your investigation, Dr. Patterson, Brent."

  "It's my intention to corner Brent at the Games, Miren. You'll know then."

  Miren's mouth opened for a shocked gasp. "What do you mean 'corner him'?"

  "I learned a few things from the duke that should force a confession. At the time my brother and Kenneth MacCallum were murdered, Brent was supposed to be on an extended hunting trip with the duke. As it happens, he left the first day, and wasn't accounted for until three weeks later. Ample time to pursue MacCallum to America, commit murder, and return to Scotland."

  "You think Brent actually killed your brother himself? What about Dr. Patterson?"

  "I don't know how Patterson fit in. It may be that he was just as he seemed, a concerned physician accompanying an ailing man."

  "Then why were two bodies piled up, and one caught by mistake?"

  "Maybe he woke too soon. A bitter end."

  "So you're going to challenge Brent publicly? What if he denies it?"

  "I've enlisted the duke's cooperation. Apparently, he's never trusted Brent Edgington,
either. With his help, getting a confession shouldn't be too difficult."

  "What about me?"

  Nathan looked back across the loch. "What do you want to know?"

  "If you secure a confession, I'm in no further danger. I don't have to leave Scotland quite yet."

  He didn't answer, and she turned her gaze to her feet.

  "Never mind." Miren looked up and across the dark loch.

  "It's time I went, after all."

  Miren refused to cry, but she couldn't stay beside him, faced with all that might have been between them. He didn't want her enough. Maybe he didn't want her at all. Miren turned away, then looked back. "We'll have one more night together, in Oban. I want you, Nathaniel. Once before I go. If I never see you again, I'll have that memory."

  He looked back at her, his dark face stricken with an emotion she couldn't read. "Miren"

  She held up her hand and smiled. "Nathaniel, the matter is settled."

  Chapter Sixteen

  No sheep anywhere in sight! My destiny bids welcome at last! Nathan has brought the young mistress and myself to a new place. A place of many houses set in the hills, and many people busy on the streets and docks. Coaches pass to and fro on well-kept roads, riders stop for ladies to cross the streets. Many of those ladies attend house pets.

  A finer sight I've never seen.

  We traveled in a huge coach with six horses at harness. All should be well, but the young mistress has been quiet since we left the small cottage. Perhaps because the chattering duke leaves no room for another to speak. He brought us to a tall building, where uniformed humans directed us to a collection of fine rooms.

  It is my dream come real. Humans in full livery, hovering in dutiful attendance. Nat is with Glenna in one room. The young mistress and myself have another. Nathan and Simon each have rooms of their own.

  When we arrived, large trunks of clothing waited by ourbed. The young mistress discovered several good dresses for herself, and a bow meant for me. I will wear the bow, because it is an occasion of merit.

  I can't help wondering what Flip would think of my new bow, but he remained with the sheep. The young mistress said good-bye to him as if she thought never to see him again. She hugged Blossom, said reassuring words to Earnestwhich he didn't require, because he was eatingand sat for a long while with Huntley, feeding him clover.