Elias In Love

by Grace Burrowes

  The morning was lovely—a mild Sunday leaning toward summer, and Jane’s mood was lovelier. Before marrying Dunstan the previous winter, she’d spent most of her Sundays in the office, wrangling legal files, plotting litigation strategy.

  Now, she lost bets with her husband, and rejoiced.

  “What do you suppose Elias wants?” Jane asked, taking a sip of lemonade. Dunstan had sawdust in his dark hair, a tool belt slung around his work kilt, and whatever Elias wanted, Jane wanted an hour up in bed with her husband more.

  She’d expected desire to ebb after holy matrimony, particularly when she and Dunstan also shared a law practice. Never had a highly competitive attorney been so glad to be so wrong.

  “Whatever Elias wants,” Dunstan replied, “he might have left a message, or simply used the telephone in the conventional manner. He dials, I pick up, communication ensues.”

  Jane held the lemonade up to Dunstan’s lips, and he sipped. He watched Jane over the rim of the glass, his blue eyes sending a particularly husbandly message.

  “Are ye pining for a nap, wee Jane?”

  “Stop it with the burr, Dunstan Cromarty. Is it possible Elias’s phone doesn’t work right here?”

  Dunstan took one more gander at the level, as if the mantel might have moved while he’d flirted with his wife.

  “Elias likes functional equipment. He’s a mechanical sort, and his phone wouldn’t have the audacity to cut out on him simply because he’s nipped off a few thousand miles from home. Shall we put some flowers in here? Give the room a few airs?”

  The plank floor had yet to be stained, but the walls had been painted a soft green that went well with the woodwork. The room still needed rugs, a few comfy reading chairs, and the little touches, but the couch was well cushioned, and pictures of family adorned the walls and the piano.

  Did Dunstan want to spruce up the room because for the first time in years, family was in town?

  “I have enough irises to fill every vase we own,” Jane said, ruffling the sawdust from Dunstan’s hair. “Call your cousin, Dunstan.”

  What sort of family relations required that Dunstan pick his cousin up at the airport, swing by the house for introductions, then dump said cousin at some neglected farmhouse five miles away?

  Dunstan left off admiring his mantel. “Elias is a bit imperious, if you must know. He was never quite one of the cousins, he was always off at a polo camp in Italy as a boy, or apprenticing in some obscure trade. We were never really sure what Elias Brodie was doing, other than riding on Zebedee’s coattails.”

  This vibe had come rolling off Dunstan the day he’d received the email announcing Elias’s impending visit. Dunstan had been quietly ecstatic that a member of the family was finally coming to see Damson Valley, and even more quietly resentful that a business transaction rather than familial fondness had inspired the travel. Elias had sent along two bottles of what was apparently very good whisky to the wedding celebration, but he’d failed to attend.

  He apparently regularly failed to attend family gatherings.

  And yet, Jane had liked Elias. Had liked how tightly he’d hugged Dunstan on sight, despite Dunstan’s inherent reserve. Had liked how Elias had not wanted to impose on “newlyweds,” had liked how he’d carried his own bag, and presented Dunstan with yet another excellent bottle of whisky.

  Dunstan’s phone rang, and he stared at the screen. “His lordship again.”

  Jane snatched the phone and swiped into the call. “Jane here. Hello, Elias.”

  “Jane? Well, yes, of course Jane. I’m sorry to be a bother but is Dunstan there?”

  “He’s nose down with power tools in his hand. I’m temporarily widowed. Can we kidnap you for dinner?”

  Dunstan’s brows rose. Jane stuck her tongue out at him. He fluttered the hem of his kilt, but the tool belt prevented him from displaying anything truly interesting.

  “Well, yes,” Elias said. “I’d enjoy that, in fact, if it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  Something was wrong. Jane could hear it in Elias’s voice, the way she could hear prevarication from a squirrely witness.

  “I’ll come get you around 5:30. The master builder will be lounging in the tub with a beer by then, and we mustn’t begrudge him a chance to relax. Pack up your suitcase while you’re at it. I’ve changed the sheets in the guestroom and they are calling your name.”

  “I can call a cab, if there are any that serve the area.”

  “We’re not like Scotland,” Jane said. “Virtually no public transportation here outside of town, so brace yourself for a dose of getting to know me. My charm is subtle, but I’ll grow on you. See you soon!”

  Dunstan accepted the phone back after Jane had ended the call. “Your charms are about as subtle as a freight train on a downhill incline, Jane Evangeline. Are you up to something?”

  “I’m up to lasagna with garlic bread, and maybe Italian cream cake for dessert. Do we have any decent wine?”

  Dunstan took up a broom that had been leaning against the mantel and went after the sawdust on the hearth bricks.

  “You’re getting out the wine for Elias? His tastes are somewhat refined, I’m guessing.”

  “We usually have wine with dinner on weekends. Something is amiss with your cousin, and he’s family. Either tell me what you’re strutting and pawing about, or put it aside, Dunstan. None of your family has been here to see you since Zeb came through a few years back, and yet you were perfectly friendly with them this winter. Elias can’t help it that his parents died.”

  Dunstan was by nature thorough in all he did, but the sawdust was in a tidy pile, and he was still sweeping.

  “Elias never talks about it. He was eleven. How could that not leave an impression on a boy?”

  Dunstan was honestly bewildered by his cousin, in other words.

  “You’ve been in this country for many years, Dunstan. Do you miss your cousins?”

  “Terribly,” he said. “The whole time I was in law school, I was nearly ill with homesickness. Went home every chance I got, saved up all my pennies, and tried to entice every one of them into coming over here to go into practice with me.”

  And yet, not a single cousin had gone into law, much less practicing in the New World.

  “You never say you miss them. I’m your wife, and I’ve never heard you say you miss them. If you, a grown man with wickedly accomplished language skills, the courage of a lion, and the most loving wife in the world can’t admit you miss your family, why do you assume Elias’s silence is indifference on his part?”

  Jane kissed her husband to soften the sting of her closing argument. “Elias is Scottish, you know. They can be proud, stubborn, and shy.”

  “We’re also affectionate and loyal,” Dunstan said, unfastening his tool belt. “Are the irises in water?”

  “Yes, and the meat’s in the fridge so Wallace can’t make off with it while we’re arguing about your cousin.”

  In the next instant, Jane was scooped off her feet and cradled against Dunstan’s chest. “We’re no’ arguing, Jane, my love. We’re having a wee discussion, and it’s one I’d like to continue upstairs, if you’ve no objection.”

  Jane kissed his cheek. “No objection, your honor. My husband truly is a genius.”

  * * *

  “I’d forgotten your neighbor is my egg lady,” Jane said as Elias hefted his suitcase into the back of the truck. From the porch, Bruno watched him with an inscrutably feline gaze that nevertheless conveyed a scold.

  “I’ll be back,” Elias said to the cat, who commenced casually licking a front paw. “Why don’t you go home?”

  “Dunstan does the same thing,” Jane said. “Talks to Wallace as if the damned cat had a mind that considers more than food, sleep, and random acts of mayhem. Do you mind if I stop over at Violet’s and get some eggs?”

  Elias’s mind was full of dire emails from Jeannie, two rounds of missed calls with Niall Cromarty, a spreadsheet that promised ruin in the next year if t
he worst cases all lined up, and some incomprehensible websites pertaining to Maryland zoning laws.

  “I’m sorry?” Elias said, as Jane gave Bruno a scratch. And where was the great litigating wonder of Clan Cromarty, that Elias was cast on Jane’s mercy for a ride?

  “Eggs,” Jane said, rising and closing her hands in an egg shape. “I’m almost out of eggs. Violet Hughes sells eggs at the farmers market. May I stop next door and buy a few eggs?”

  God, no. “Of course. I’ll wait here.” Elias flashed what Zebedee had called his Côte d’Azur smile. “The heat has left me not quite presentable for company.”

  “Dunstan still isn’t too keen on our summers,” Jane said, hopping up into the truck and slamming the door. “Climb in, your lordship. I’ll get my eggs some other day.”

  The truck had marvelous AC, but Elias wasn’t sure of the etiquette of adjusting AC in another person’s vehicle. He had learned not to rise to the “your lordship” bait when his cousins had started teasing him within weeks of his parents’ memorial service. Protocol meant Elias had not become a lord by title until Zebedee had died, though his cousins probably hadn’t grasped that as children.

  “Go ahead and crank the AC,” Jane said. “I always do, and I turn on the seat heater at the same time. Dunstan doesn’t get it. Maybe it’s a woman thing.”

  Or a contrary American thing. “How well do you know Violet Hughes?”

  Now where on earth had that question come from? Jane gave Elias a side-eye, confirming that his casual tone hadn’t fooled her.

  “Not well enough that you should be worried,” she said, maneuvering the truck onto the road. “Violet’s a farmer, and they tend to be married to their land. I’m married to your cousin.”

  Elias was jet-lagged, possibly coming down with a cold, and probably dehydrated. Subtlety was beyond him.

  “I’m familiar with your marital status. If Dunstan were any more in love, he’d be singing maudlin ballads beneath your window.” Which was… sweet. Lovely. Wonderful, in fact.

  “You jealous, Elias?”

  What a question. Though Elias wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. “You don’t back down, do you?”

  Jane patted his knee. “I’m a litigating buzzsaw, Elias Brodie, but you’re family, so I will back down if you tell me to. Dunstan will back down if I tell him to, too.”

  Good God, she was a terror. “Where did Dunstan find you?”

  “I found him in the law library on the opposite side of a stinky little marital misunderstanding which we managed to settle to the satisfaction of all concerned. I notice you put your suitcase in the back of the truck.”

  The damned thing weighed a ton. “My accommodations, while splendidly bucolic, are somewhat lacking in amenities, and you did offer a guest room.”

  Jane drove her husband’s truck with a natural feel for the engine, braking and accelerating smoothly, easing the vehicle down the road when others might have made a statement with their driving. Trucks like this were rare in Scotland, in part because gas prices were so much higher.

  The air conditioning, the rumble of the engine, and the relief of being away from That Place eased some of Elias’s bad mood.

  “Lacking amenities,” Jane said. “Did you have to use the two-seater?”

  Elias had to think a moment to translate the term. “The electricity is in need of repair. Earls don’t use two-seaters.” Though he’d insulted the vines growing up one side of the barn. Tam O’Shanter’s witch could not have driven him back across the road to beg a favor from Violet.

  “I won’t use an outhouse either. Spiders and I have an understanding. I see them, and Dunstan kills them.”

  Violet wouldn’t kill a spider just for being a spider. She’d know what sort of spider it was, how it benefited the ecosystem, and how its life cycle unfolded.

  “Dunstan has become an assassin for hire,” Elias said. Though wasn’t that pretty much how a lawyer expected to earn a living?

  The houses were closer together as the route approached town, and church spires poked up into the summer sky at artistically irregular intervals. Though the terrain—a green valley spreading between low mountains—wasn’t that different from Perthshire or parts of Aberdeenshire, Elias was hit with a queasy sense of being far, far from home.

  “Dunstan claims he’s killed the spiders,” Jane said. “I think he mostly takes them outside. Snakes know better than to come in the house.”

  Did Violet’s dogs keep snakes away from the house? “You’re afraid of spiders?”

  “I’m respectful of them, Elias. We have the black widow and brown recluse, as well as copperheads and rattlesnakes. A bite from any one of them calls for immediate medical intervention and around here, that means a half-hour drive into Frederick, at least. Then there’s poison oak, poison ivy, poison sumac, stinging nettles, deer ticks and dog ticks, both of which carry diseases, to say nothing of the lowly mosquito which can—”

  “Enough, Jane. I’ll take my chances with Scotland’s 200 distilleries.”

  But ye thundering gods, Jane’s recitation left Elias wanting to turn the truck around, so he could ask Violet how she dealt with all those hazards. Scotland had no venomous spiders that Elias knew of, and no venomous snakes. As for those disease-bearing insects…

  Only a mad woman would farm in this climate. Or a mad man, and Elias had no intention of misplacing his sanity any time soon. Misplacing it again.

  “We take precautions,” Jane said, “and no place is completely safe. What’s it like, being an earl?”

  Castles were safe. Castles stood for centuries against wars, weather, and wanton pillaging. Elias wasn’t sure what force of nature could withstand Jane’s cross-examination.

  “Being an earl is like being a person,” Elias said, “except other people ask you a lot of irrelevant questions. I have only been an earl for a short time, though, so feel free to check back with me as I muddle along. What do you know of a man named Maxwell Maitland?”

  “Elias,” Jane said gently as they came to the first stop light. “I’m family. You can tell me to back the hell off, and I will. As for Max Maitland, he’s a real estate attorney who works for land developers. My real estate practice is limited mostly to residential loan settlements and quitclaim deeds, but I haven’t heard anything particularly bad about Max.”

  None of the houses in this town were built with good old quarried granite, and the window boxes were all in want of flowers.

  “You haven’t heard anything good about Maitland, either?”

  “Developers always face resistance from the locals,” Jane said. “This is the longest light in town.”

  Even the stop lights were different in America. They didn’t turn yellow between red and green, they simply flipped from stop to go without giving the driver any warning.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” Jane asked. “Dunstan says the jet lag isn’t so bad coming this direction, but I beg to differ. I was wrecked for three days, coming and going.”

  “I slept adequately, thank you.”

  Jane gave him a look that suggested she knew when a man was lying, then she smoothly accelerated into the intersection. Driving calmed Elias, especially driving well-maintained, powerful vehicles.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not used to the heat, and I’m a nervous passenger.” Then too, Jeannie’s emails had been nothing but bad news.

  “So am I, but I trust Dunstan behind the wheel. I trust him pretty much everywhere. It’s a nice feeling. He trusts me too.”

  “You are making a point,” Elias said. “I don’t claim to know you well, but I have a full complement of female cousins, and I was engaged twice. My every instinct suggests you are making a point.”

  And his every instinct further insisted, he would not like the conclusion she was about to bludgeon him with.

  “Dunstan and I got married in Scotland.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t available to attend,” Elias began, though he still had no clue what
the woman was babbling about.

  “You didn’t attend,” Jane went on, “because if you came to our wedding, you’d have to go to all of them, and the picnics, christenings, and graduations. I get that. I did maid of honor duty three times before I learned to say no.”

  Elias hated saying no, but he hated more the idea that feelings would be hurt if he said no some of the time, and yes the rest. Zebedee had warned him about that, at least.

  “I gave my cousin Jeannie away—Zeb was off at some polo association conference in Argentina—and I knew in my bones that bastard she married would make her miserable.”

  “And you haven’t been to a wedding since,” Jane said. “Dunstan and I could have gotten married here, where my family is. I was the bride, and traditionally, the wedding is the bride’s shindig. We got married in Scotland, and half the de Lucas in Maryland came over. There are a lot of de Lucas.”

  Elias’s mental lightbulb came on with all the glare of an interrogation lamp. “Dunstan’s family would not have come here, not in any significant numbers.” They might have if Zebedee had bought them all tickets, which was the sort of thing he’d done regularly.

  More’s the pity.

  “Dunstan has been in Maryland pretty much his whole adult life, Elias, and you and Zeb are the only ones to come see him. The planes fly both ways.”

  Jane took a left, and soon the truck was again rolling by pastures, hay fields, and greening stands of wheat. Corn was barely sprouted, and the foliage along the mountaintops was still gauzy emerald, much as it would have been in Scotland.

  Homesickness assailed Elias again, and also worry. Violet Hughes lived in the rural valley alone, working around livestock and heavy equipment all day, out in all kinds of weather. Elias resented the worry even as he knew it was justified.

  Violet needed help, and Elias knew how that felt.

  “I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn,” Jane said, as she drove along the winding lane that led to Dunstan’s property. “Dunstan and I are glad to have you as our guest, and I think he was honestly a little puzzled that you’d want to stay somewhere else.”