A Highland Conquest

by Sandra Heath

  The steward, Tam, was overseeing everything, and he turned in some surprise as he saw Lauren.

  “Good morning, madam,” he said politely, executing a graceful bow.

  “Good morning,” she replied.

  “I will conduct you to the stables, madam,” he said then, bowing once more and preceding her to the outer door.

  The morning air was fresh and the gentle breeze carried the scent of heather from the surrounding mountains. She could hear curlews calling, and the more raucous noise of waterfowl on the loch as a maid went down through the gardens to feed them with scraps from the servants’ breakfast. The stables, which were approached through a narrow iron-studded door set in the courtyard wall opposite the garden arch, proved to be surprisingly spacious, with accommodation for a considerable number of horses, to say nothing of coach houses containing the family’s vehicles as well as those belonging to the guests.

  A bay thoroughbred mare had been saddled for her, and as the steward helped her mount, she saw a large dun stallion being led out as well. She guessed that it was for Rory. The steward handed her the mare’s reins. “Will you be wanting a guide, madam? The land hereabouts can be very wild if you don’t know it.”

  “I’ll be all right, thank you, for I’m quite used to riding on my own. I won’t stray.”

  “As you wish, madam.”

  He watched from the main stable archway as she rode out and then around the perimeter of the castle wall toward the narrow neck of land leading to the main shore. There she paused for a moment to look back. In the early-morning sunshine Glenvane looked more perfect than ever. Could there be anywhere more beautiful and timeless than this? She felt as if she’d known it all her life, and yet she’d only been here for one day. If there were such a thing as having lived on this earth before, then perhaps she had once lived here. Maybe this had been her home hundreds of years ago…

  It was a fanciful thought, and she smiled as she turned the mare’s head and kicked her heel to ride over the bridge spanning the River Vane, and then across the park toward an oak wood which spread a cool leafy shade over a nearby slope. From there she would be able to observe Rory leaving on his mission to persuade ‘old Rab’ to leave his croft.

  She reined in out of sight, and then leaned forward to pat the mare’s neck as she waited. The woods echoed with birdsong, as if every feathered creature in Scotland had gathered in this one place, and out on the glittering loch the reflections of the islands shivered as the breeze swept low over the water. An osprey was diving for pike, and two men were rowing a small boat toward the far shore, where Ben Vane soared high toward the heavens.

  The minutes passed and there was no sign of Rory. The mare became a little restless, but Lauren lingered, determined to give the master of Glenvane another unsettling time of it when once again he found himself in the company of “the Ashworth fortune.”

  At last he appeared. Mounted on the dun stallion, he rode from the castle at an easy canter. His top hat was pulled well forward over his forehead, casting a shadow over his face, but she knew every feature as if the sunlight fell full upon it. A yearning passed through her. Since Jonathan there hadn’t been anyone to arouse her heart as this man did; perhaps not even Jonathan had stirred the deep emotions she’d known since meeting the lord of Glenvane. She wondered what Rory would have said if he knew how she really felt—that far from being an easy target for the younger brother, she yearned for the kisses of the elder.

  As she watched, he suddenly turned his mount directly toward her. Filled with instant dismay, she maneuvered the mare further back into the woods and took refuge behind a thick screen of holly bushes. She heard the drumming of his horse’s hooves and peeped out as he passed about twenty yards away from her. He rode with almost casual ease, as if his nervous mount’s obedience were totally matter of fact. Lauren reflected that she would not have dared to take such a mettlesome horse for granted, even though she considered herself an accomplished rider. But the Earl of Glenvane was a masterly horseman, authoritative and yet sympathetic, in tune with his mount’s every move.

  “Why can’t I despise you, Rory Ardmore?” she murmured, gathering the reins to follow him as he rode on up through the sloping woods.

  After about half an hour the trees began to thin and the springy ground became rockier, but still Rory rode at a steady canter. Suddenly he emerged from the woods and rode over a heather-drenched moor, beyond which the lower slopes of a mountain rose majestically toward the endless arc of the heavens. Up here the calls of the curlews were clear and almost mournful, and the fragrance of the heather was almost intoxicating. The undulating sea of purple-pink stretched all around as Rory rode on over a ridge and vanished from sight.

  Lauren reined in just before the ridge to glance back. The loch and castle lay in the valley far below, almost like miniatures which were oddly close at hand. It was as if she could reach down and take hold of them. Such a view commanded full attention, but she had to follow Rory, or run the risk of losing track of him. Gathering the reins once more, she maneuvered her horse toward the lip of the ridge, so that she could just see over without being seen herself.

  She expected to see Rory riding on over the moor on the other side, but instead she found herself looking down a long slope toward another oak wood, on the edge of which there was a rambling croft set in a hollow, as if in readiness for the worst of the winter gales which must sweep over this remote and exposed mountainside. A wisp of smoke curled from one of the stubby chimneys, and chickens pecked in the little yard before the door. There was a fold beside the croft, as well as several outbuildings, and a black-and-white border collie barked as Rory rode toward the yard.

  An elderly woman emerged. She was stooped and frail, with a plain red shawl wrapped over her head and around her shoulders. She paused as she saw who was coming, and then she went back into the croft, reemerging again a moment later with a man at her side. He was elderly too, but more sturdily built, and he wore a rough brown jacket, a kilt, and tartan stockings.

  She vaguely heard Rab and his wife greeting Rory, but the breeze snatched their voices away. When Rory dismounted, Aggie led his horse into one of the outbuildings, and Rab accompanied him into the croft. The woman then joined them, and the collie sprawled before the threshold as if on guard.

  There was nothing for it now but to wait for Rory to leave again. Lauren glanced around, wondering where best to position herself as if she’d just happened to be riding that way, but as she did so some red grouse burst noisily from the heather nearby, startling the mare so much that it was all Lauren could do to keep her seat. The mare reared and plunged, and Lauren couldn’t hold her below the ridge out of sight of the croft. The moment the collie heard the commotion and caught sight of the terrified horse, it set up a clamor which seemed to echo all around the mountains.

  Lauren was close to tears as she strove to keep a grip on the horse, but just as she began to regain full control, the creature’s left forefoot struck a rock, and there was an ominous metallic clink as the shoe was cast. At last she managed to bring the mare back to the bit, and was able to dismount to inspect the leg. The creature was sweating and trembling, its nostrils and eyes wide, and its neck quivered as Lauren straightened once more to pat it. A cast shoe wasn’t the only problem, for it seemed to her that the leg was now lame as well.

  At the croft, the collie’s noise had brought Rory, Rab, and Aggie to the door. Rory shaded his eyes against the sunshine and stared up toward Lauren. Then he left the croft to run up the slope toward her, and she could only wait, suddenly feeling very inept indeed. Far from engineering an idle encounter, she’d gotten herself into a fix! Here she was, miles away from the castle, with a horse she could no longer ride.

  He reached her in a moment or so, his dark hair tousled and windswept because he had left his top hat in the croft. “Miss Maitland? I thought it was you, for I recognized your riding habit.”

  Lauren managed a rather embarrassed smile as she raised h
er little net veil. “What an excellent memory you have, Lord Glenvane.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, for she felt more than a little foolish.

  “What on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

  “I decided to go for a ride before breakfast, to sweep away the remnants of my headache. Some grouse frightened my horse and she cast her shoe when she struck that rock. I’m afraid she’s lame.” Truth and half-truth slipped from her lips with shameful ease as she bent to retrieve the horseshoe from among the heather.

  He took it from her and examined it before following her example and checking that the mare wasn’t harmed. “You have an adventurous spirit, Miss Maitland—too adventurous, perhaps, for this is a very remote place, and it’s very fortunate that I happened to be here as well.”

  “Very fortunate indeed, sir,” she murmured, suddenly beginning to realize that this was turning very much to her advantage. Now he would have to take her back to the castle, and how else could he do it but by taking her upon his own horse! What a stir that would cause if it were observed. Jamie would begin to wonder if his brother was hindering rather than helping him, and as for Isabel… Lauren couldn’t help a flutter of satisfaction as she contemplated the anxiety which might be aroused in Lady Maxby’s spiteful heart.

  Rory finished examining the mare’s leg. “You’re right. She’s lame,” he said, straightening and then tossing the horseshoe away down the mountainside. “Well, shoe or no shoe, she can’t be ridden back to the castle. I hope you are prepared to entrust yourself to my care, Miss Maitland, for it seems you must either wait at the croft until I can send someone with another mount, which may take some time, or you can ride double with me when I return after my business here.”

  “If you are prepared to endure my company, sir, I would prefer to return with you,” she replied.

  “Endure your company? Miss Maitland, I will consider it a pleasure to assist you,” he replied, coming closer and taking her hand to draw it gallantly to his lips.

  She smiled into his eyes, but inside she was resentful. How free and magnanimous he was with his compliments! She could almost believe what he said, except that she knew he only said it with Jamie’s empty coffers in mind. He looked at her and saw her inheritance; she looked at him and saw… What did she see? Lord help her, she saw the man she loved! She was playing with fire by remaining here in Scotland. No matter how fiercely she waged her counter-campaign, no matter how justified she was in teaching the Ardmore brothers a lesson, in the end she would be the one to pay the real price.

  She didn’t realize she’d been silent for some time, or that nuances of her secret thoughts had flitted briefly across her face, but when he spoke again she knew she’d been less than completely guarded.

  “Are you all right, Miss Maitland? You seem a little…”

  “I’m quite all right, Lord Glenvane,” she replied quickly. “I was just thinking about what you said. This is a very remote place, and I was indeed a little unwise to come all this way on my own.”

  He smiled. “Well, you didn’t come to any harm, and I’m here to see you safely home again,” he said, gathering the reins and then offering her his arm to escort her down to the croft.

  Home? Oh, how she wished she’d never left! Boston was a safe and reassuring haven compared with this. But she returned the smile, and slipped her gloved hand over his sleeve.

  They walked through the heather, and she smiled as the collie came bounding toward them. The dog capered all around, its feathery tail wagging, but at a single whistle from Rab it bounded away again, coming swiftly to the crofter’s heel as he waited in the yard.

  Lauren was led into the croft, where it was very dark and cool because the windows were very small in the thick walls. There was no ceiling, only bare rafters and the thatch, and a ladder led up to a sort of landing floor where Rab and his wife had their bed. The rafters were hung with strings of drying vegetables and fruit, from onions and mushrooms to apples and, surprisingly, apricots. There was an open stone fireplace and a well-scrubbed table where fresh-baked bread was cooling on a wooden rack. A kettle sang on the fire, and there were two settles on either side of the hearth.

  Aggie smiled and nodded her head as she ushered Lauren to one of the settles. “Please to be seated,” she murmured.

  Lauren obeyed, arranging her rather cumbersome riding habit skirt and glancing around at the flagged floor and uneven stone walls.

  “Some milk and bannocks?” Aggie enquired.

  Lauren looked uncertainly at her. “Bannocks?” she repeated.

  Rory sat down opposite. “A bannock is an oatmeal cake, Miss Maitland, and I can vouch for Aggie’s as being the finest hereabouts.”

  The woman blushed with pleasure at such praise, and then hastened through a doorway into what appeared to be a small pantry. She returned in a moment with an earthenware jar containing the bannocks. Lauren took one, and on taking a bite she smiled at Aggie. “Lord Glenvane is quite right, for this is quite delicious,” she replied honestly.

  The woman went away again and returned with a little dish of sweetened milk which had been whisked so that it frothed like a syllabub. It was unexpectedly refreshing and went perfectly with the bannock.

  Sweetened milk was hardly suitable for Rory, and he and Rab were taking a glass of whiskey. They took up their conversation from the point where it had been abandoned because of Lauren.

  “Now listen, Rab, you really must see the sense of leaving this place before winter. There’s nothing to be gained by keeping this going, and it’s pointless to remain here when there’s a far more suitable croft further down the glen. If you won’t do it for yourself, then think of Aggie. She’s no longer in the best of health, and if you survive this coming winter, I fear you might face the one after that on your own. She was only able to come to the castle yesterday because Hamish McNeil was coming with his packhorses and could take her up on one of them. What if something happened to either of you? What then, mm?”

  Rab didn’t want to be persuaded. He had a weather-beaten face, and his bead-bright eyes were stubborn. “But this is ma home, your lordship,” he replied, as if that were the cure-all answer. Then he drained his glass and then immediately refilled it from the jar in the hearth.

  “And that is all that matters?” Rory remarked, not deflected from his purpose by the offer of another generous dram.

  “Aye, my lord, it is.”

  “But, Rab, you must come around on this.”

  “Why, my lord? What harm does it do if we stay here? Or is it maybe that ye don’t want us on your conscience?”

  “That’s most unfair, Rab,” Rory replied, holding his gaze.

  The crofter raised his chin mulishly, and Lauren was suddenly reminded of an old man who had been in the employ of her uncle in Philadelphia. The man had lived in the same isolated house all his life, and when he’d become too old to manage on his own, he too had refused to leave. At least, he had until her uncle had thought of the perfect solution.

  Lauren lowered her dish of milk. “May I suggest something?” she asked suddenly.

  The two men looked at her in surprise. Rory nodded. “By all means, Miss Maitland.”

  She smiled at Rab. “Forgive me for perhaps poking my nose in where it’s not wanted, but is there any reason why you and Aggie can’t move to the other croft and then come up here whenever you wish to see it?”

  Rory smiled. “A reasonable enough suggestion, Miss Maitland, and one which has already been aired on more than one occasion, but unfortunately the other croft is a good five miles away, and although Rab may think he’s still sturdy enough to walk here and back, his old legs know different.”

  Rab scowled. “There’s naything wrong wi’ my legs!”

  Lauren nodded. “Nothing a good horse would not solve,” she said.

  Rab looked blankly at her, and then sniffed. “I’ve nay the money for a horse.”

  �
�No, but Lord Glenvane has,” she replied, looking at Rory. “More than that, he has stables full of them.”

  Rory met her gaze a little quizzically, and she could see that he was amused at her munificence where his property was concerned.

  Rab sniffed again, and Lauren felt rather than saw how his wife had come to stand anxiously by the settle.

  Rory glanced up at Aggie and then fixed Rab with a very direct look. “What objection would you raise if I agree to Miss Maitland’s suggestion?”

  “A horse?”

  “Yes, but only on condition you and Aggie leave here before winter. As to your freedom to come here whenever you choose, that goes without saying.”

  “Ye’ll not move another man in here?”

  “Is that what you fear?”

  “Partly,” Rab confessed reluctantly.

  “Rab, I want you out of here because it’s no longer fit, and if that applies where you’re concerned, it applies equally to anyone else.”

  “Even a young man?”

  “Even a young man.”

  Aggie put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Please, Rab, for it’s far better than most would ever dream to get.”

  He hesitated, but then at last gave a nod. “I agree, your lordship,” he said, holding a hand out to Rory, who took it gladly.

  “The matter’s settled, then. You and Aggie go to the lower croft, and I will provide you with a suitable horse.”

  Lauren spoke up quickly. “Two suitable horses, Lord Glenvane, and the wherewithal to keep and feed them. After all, if one should cast a shoe…”

  “Your point is taken, Miss Maitland. Very well, two horses, their feed, and keep.”

  Rab sat back and gave Lauren a broad grin. “Oh, but ye’re a bonnie lassie, and no mistake,” he declared.

  Aggie nodded as well, and gave Lauren a warm smile. “A true lady,” she said quietly.