My Highland Lord (Highland Lords)

by Scott, Tarah

Kiernan

  She reread the line: I hope this book gives you something to do until my return. In other words, if you're busy reading, you'll stay out of trouble. Confound the man's arrogance. He'd seen her in a bookstore and decided he could manipulate her with a book. Phoebe pulled the large package from the desk and unwrapped the paper to reveal three leather-bound books inside a leather-trimmed box. She drew a sharp breath at sight of the author and title: Frankenstein, Mary Shelley. Carefully, she pulled volume one from the box and turned to the title page.

  London

  Printed for Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor, & Jones Finsbury Square

  1818

  She brushed her fingers over the date, 1818. An early edition. She'd underestimated Kiernan MacGregor. He knew exactly what he was doing—and could all-too-easily succeed in distracting her. If that distraction didn't work, he'd arranged for Elise to spend time with her while he was gone. This explained the duchess' appearance on her doorstep yesterday, less than an hour after Phoebe sent word that she would leave for Scotland the next day. She hadn't been surprised when the duchess protested in favor of waiting for the men to return. Phoebe’s assurance that she would go alone brought a knowing smile to Elise’s face, and she said, “Actually, it’s a fine idea. After all, they will likely catch up with us on the road.”

  Phoebe gently inserted the book back into the box. She hoped the men would be gone long enough for her and the duchess to reach Scotland…and for Phoebe to catch her breath. Two days had passed since the interlude with Kiernan and she couldn't seem to regain her equilibrium. It seems the duchess had been correct. God help her, Kiernan MacGregor was, indeed, an experienced lover. A tender lover, damn his soul, and Phoebe had only tasted of his talents. She shivered as she had a hundred times since that night, the feel of his rigid staff between her fingers still so real…the memory of his tongue inside her—Molly appeared in the open doorway of Phoebe’s bedchamber.

  “The duchess’ coach has arrived, Miss.”

  “Thank you, Molly. This trunk is ready. Please inform Gaylon.”

  "Are you all right?" the maid asked.

  She smiled. "Distracted. I'm fine."

  Molly left and Phoebe gathered her reticule, the two books she had purchased, and her cloak, then made her way to the parlor where the duchess and her aunt waited.

  Elise smiled. “I hope I'm not too early.”

  “Not at all. Gaylon should have my trunks loaded right away.” She sat on the sofa beside her aunt.

  “Phoebe,” Lady Albery said, “are you sure you won’t change your mind and wait until Lord Ashlund returns?”

  “We've discussed this, Aunt. My uncle has afforded four men as escort in addition to Calders. Plus, we have the duchess' entourage. We're quite safe.”

  “You really should take Molly with you,” Lady Albery continued.

  “No thank you. As I said, I'm not accustomed to traveling with a maid, so I won't miss her.”

  “Don’t worry,” the duchess said, “I have Sue. She can deal very nicely with the both of us.”

  Lady Albery tsked, but Phoebe only nodded and wondered how much time she'd have in Scotland before her nemesis caught up with her.

  Three quarters of an hour later, they drove through the gate, leaving her aunt waving a woeful handkerchief.

  “Are you and your aunt close?” Elise asked.

  “No,” Phoebe replied. “Though, the way she has acted these last few days, one would think she was losing a daughter.”

  “Yes, one would.” Elise smiled. “So, we're off. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have you visit Ashlund. We're going to have a wonderful time.”

  “Where exactly is Ashlund?”

  “Two hours north of Edinburgh.”

  “Not in the Highlands then?” Phoebe asked.

  Elise shook her head. “No. It's another two hour ride before you enter the southernmost part of the Highlands. Tell me, did you like Brahan Seer?”

  “I did. The castle is beautiful and Loch Katrine is spectacular.”

  “Yes,” Elise smiled, “it is magnificent. Marcus and I spend a great deal of time there. Though, with the education of the twins, we don't stay as long as we used to.” She sighed. “I would prefer they received their education there, but my husband insists they receive a formal education in Edinburgh.”

  “Is that where Lord Ashlund studied?” Phoebe asked.

  “No, he studied at Oxford, which is why Ethan is to study at the university in Edinburgh.”

  “Ethan?”

  “Our son. Our daughter is Jacqueline.”

  “I see, and what does Lord Ashlund having studied in Oxford have to do with your son studying in Edinburgh?”

  A twinkle entered Elise’s eyes. “Marcus feels one son educated by the English is enough. I know what you're thinking,” she went on. “He has an American wife and his future daughter-in-law is English.”

  "Ma'am, I would never say such a thing," Phoebe demurred.

  “It's not all English he dislikes,” the duchess said with a laugh in her voice, “only the ones who attempt to give MacGregor land to their English kinsmen. Of course, the Scottish crown has been known to do the same.”

  “It's a wonder the MacGregors aren't homeless, one and all,” Phoebe said.

  “Many are,” Elise replied.

  “Your Grace, forgive me, I forgot—”

  “It isn't your history, Phoebe. We have many good books on Highland history in Ashlund. If you are interested, I'm sure Kiernan will take you to visit many of the places where historical events took place.” She grimaced. “Beware, though, it's likely to turn into a long journey. You’ll soon learn that every road in the Highlands is famous for some battle or another.”

  *****

  Phoebe glanced at Elise, whose tired face said three days in a carriage and now horseback had taken its toll.

  “Perhaps we should stop at the next inn?” Phoebe said.

  “Oh no,” Elise replied. “It is just past five o’clock. The horses have been in their traces for a mere two hours. Do you mind riding at night? It'll be dark soon.”

  “Not at all.” The guards who rode with them could withstand the chill, but the duchess had her cloak wrapped tightly about her. “Though, the night is cold.”

  “Would you prefer the carriage?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “No, ma’am. To be honest, only pouring rain or snow can compel me to ride inside a carriage when I have a good mount. I was thinking of you.”

  Elise smiled. “I'm of the same mind. If we are to reach Ashlund by the end of the week, we must stay on course.” She sighed. “It's good to be in Scotland again. I made arrangements for accommodations with cousins. They are only two hours away.”

  “How is it you were able to arrange lodging at so late a date?”

  Elise gave her a reproachful look and Phoebe knew she was, again, being reprimanded for being so formal. “Time will solve your dilemma, Phoebe,” she had said the day they'd left London. “You'll soon grow tired of the formality in your own family.”

  “I sent word the night you informed me you wanted to leave,” Elise said.

  “You're sure they won’t mind?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “If you—by heavens." Phoebe drew a sharp breath at sight of an overturned coach that came into view around the bend. The vehicle lay on its side, wheels spinning. “Calders,” she called, but he yelled, “Whoa!” and pulled back on the carriage reins.

  There was a shriek from their coach and Phoebe realized Sue had been take unawares by the sudden stop. Donald, who rode ahead of them, along with Niall, Elise’s private guard, kicked their horses into a gallop. Phoebe dug her heels into her mount and followed. The men arrived at the fallen carriage and vaulted from their saddles. An instant later Phoebe arrived at the overturned coach.

  "Dear God,” she exclaimed at sight of the wheeler’s hind feet pinned by the carriage tongue.

  His front hooves were curled up and his belly pres
sed to the road. His head was turned back as the driver worked to loose the animal, talking softly as another man straddled his neck trying to prevent his struggles from inflicting further damage. Phoebe noted the horses badly skinned hind legs. If he lived, there would be swelling and serious bruises.

  Phoebe leapt from her saddle as Elise arrived with the coach close behind. Calders halted a safe distance behind the downed vehicle, tossed the reins to the livery, then jumped to the ground.

  “Is the wheeler all right?” Phoebe called to the man who stood some feet away, calming the second horse.

  The man nodded.

  "Where are the other—” She spotted two horses standing side by side just within over of the thickening forest.

  “We’ve got to get the harness off and lift the tongue,” cried the man who worked to loose the fallen horse.

  Donald and Niall rushed to the front of the carriage and Phoebe followed.

  “Ye havena’ got a knife, man?” Niall demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he whipped a dagger from his boot, bent, and, in one swift slice, cut the harness. He then swung around and straddled the tongue, facing the horse. Squatting, he took a deep breath and gripped the wood. With a great heave, he rose slowly, lifting the tongue. The carriage creaked and a moan came from the compartment.

  “For God’s sake, man,” Niall said in a strained whisper, “get the beast out.”

  The man on the horse’s neck jumped off and the other man urged the horse up. The horse gave a low whinny and struggled to his feet. The driver drew him away from the carriage. Slowly, Niall lowered the tongue. The instant it touched the ground, Calders jumped onto the side of the coach. Niall leapt over the tongue and bound up beside him so fast, Phoebe blinked.

  “A beast of a man,” she murmured.

  “Precisely the reason my husband insists he accompany me everywhere I go.” Elise stepped forward and, placing her palms on the coach, craned her neck in order to see inside the compartment.

  Niall glanced over her shoulder. “Your Grace.” He ceased yanking on the carriage door and jumped lightly to the ground. Phoebe's mouth fell open and she stepped back when he lifted the duchess bodily from the ground and set her back away from the carriage.

  “Dinna’ come any closer,” he admonished as if talking to a child.

  “Niall,” Elise threw her cloak over her shoulders, “out of my way.”

  “Nay, Your Grace,” he replied. “His Grace wouldna’ allow you near the carriage and neither can I.”

  A loud creak drew Phoebe's attention back to the carriage. Donald stood atop the vehicle, where and he and Calders managed to wrench the door open. Donald lowered himself inside the coach.

  “The lass first,” he called up. Calders squatted, lifted the woman from the doorway, then motioned for Niall to take her.

  “Dinna’ move, Your Grace,” Niall ordered, and returned to the carriage.

  Calders gently lowered the woman into his arms, and Phoebe and Elise hurried alongside as Niall strode several paces from the carriage. He laid the woman in the wet grass and Elise went to her knees beside her, pressed an ear at her chest, then looked up at Phoebe.

  “A strong heartbeat. Quick, there's a bottle of water in the carriage, and smelling salts in my reticule.”

  Phoebe started to turn, but Sue shouted from the carriage door, “I’ll get it.”

  An instant later, Sue returned with the salts and water. Niall and Calders approached, the gentleman who had been inside the carriage slouched between them, an arm slung over each of their shoulders. They lowered him to the ground next to the woman. He remained upright and pressed his palm against his forehead.

  “My wife,” the man whispered.

  “She'll live,” Elise said, and took the smelling salts Sue held out and opened them beneath the woman’s nose. The woman turned her head aside, but Elise kept the salts beneath her nose.

  “Douglas,” the woman moaned, again turning her head away from the smelling salts.

  Elise brought the bottle even closer to her nose. The woman’s eyes opened and she tried to sit up. “No, no,” Elise said, holding her down. “Phoebe, wet a handkerchief.”

  Phoebe retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, wet it with the water Sue had brought, then handed it to Elise.

  “What happened?” the woman demanded, then said in a frantic voice, “My husband.”

  “It’s all right, Andrea,” Douglas said, “I’m here.”

  She gave a small cry and reached for him.

  The short, stout man gave her a crooked smile. “Quite all right, my dear.” He squeezed her hand.

  Elise began wiping Andrea’s forehead.

  “Where is Gerald?” Andrea asked.

  Douglas glanced at the men who inspected the horse that had been pinned. “He is well, my dear. It looks as though he was able to save the horse.” Douglas looked up at Niall, who stood over the group. “Is there any sign of the other two horses?”

  “They're not far.” Niall pointed to the trees to the right of the carriage. “I saw them in the forest.”

  “Round them up,” Elise said.

  Niall nodded to Donald, who took off in the direction of the horses.

  “What happened?” Phoebe asked.

  “We hit a hole earlier in the day,” Douglas replied. “When we stopped at the inn just down the road, they were supposed to have checked the wheels. The driver was sure he felt some unsteadiness in the rear, right wheel.”

  “You’re lucky it was a front wheel that came off,” Phoebe said.

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “Though, if those fools at the inn had done their job properly we wouldn't have needed luck. Damn it—pardon me ladies.” He inclined his head in apology, then cleared his throat and went on. “We were moving along at a nice trot when I heard a shriek from one of the horses. The next thing, the coach lurched and we went over.”

  “We had better see to the repair of that wheel,” Phoebe said, then stopped and looked at Elise. “Provided, that is all right with you, Your Grace.”

  “Your Grace!” Douglas burst out. He began struggling to his feet.

  “Please,” Elise said, “don't move until our men can assist you.”

  “Come on, man,” Niall said to Calders. “Let’s see to the wheel.” The two strode toward the carriage as Andrea sat up.

  “Oh dear,” she said. “Your Grace, you must forgive us, we had no idea.”

  Elise patted Andrea’s arm. “You’ve done nothing that requires my forgiveness.” She cast a sidelong glance at Phoebe, then leaned close and murmured, “Perhaps this will teach you to call me by name."

  Phoebe's eyes widened in surprise, but she managed to stifle the mirth.

  “Lord Douglas Ingersol at your service, Your Grace,” Douglas said and again attempted to gain his feet.

  Donald returned and Elise nodded to him.

  “Help Lord Ingersol to his feet, please.” She looked at Douglas. “Let’s get you two into our carriage. It's nearly dark. We have no idea how long the repairs will take and there's no need for us to sit on the wet ground.”

  A few minutes later, Lord and Lady Ingersol, along with Elise, were tucked safely into the carriage. Phoebe went to the fallen carriage to see how the repairs fared.

  “It doesn’t look as though we’ll be able to make repairs on the wheel here,” Calders informed her.

  “The night is clear and the moon full,” Phoebe said. “There isn't enough light?”

  “The wheel is cracked. It'll have to be repaired, or perhaps even replaced."

  She nodded. "I'll tell the duchess." Phoebe hurried to the carriage. She opened the door and surveyed the occupants. “Niall and Calders inform me the wheel is cracked. The repairs can't be done here.”

  Elise looked at Lord Ingersol. “It seems we must leave your carriage here. We'll have the wheel repaired and send Niall back with your men to bring it onward. The Orwell Inn is forty-five minutes ahead. We will stop there for the night.”

  “
Your Grace,” Lady Ingersol said, “we can't impose upon you.”

  “Our men can deal with the repairs,” Lord Ingersol said. “You needn’t bother yourself any further.”

  “Nonsense,” Elise said, “we'll make sure the carriage is brought safely to the inn this evening.” She addressed Phoebe. “Do you know how much longer we'll be?”

  “Not long, I think. The horses are rounded up and Niall is loading the wheel. It looks as if your wheeler isn't seriously injured.”

  Lord Ingersol looked relieved. “A good horse,” he said. “I would have hated losing him.”

  “I'll have your trunks loaded onto our carriage and check on how much longer we'll be,” Phoebe said.

  “If they can hurry?” Elise said, and Phoebe nodded, then turned away and started for the other carriage where the men were already retrieving the trunks.

  The company rode at a trot, Phoebe on horseback with the men. She regretted the little time they would lose by stopping at the inn, but after the time spent rescuing Lord and Lady Ingersol there was no question of pressing on. Perhaps they might leave early enough in the morning to recover some of the lost time. Phoebe jarred from her thoughts when she realized that Niall had pulled his pistol from his waistband, even as she registered a rustle of leaves somewhere beyond the road. She wheeled around in unison with Niall to face the approaching rider.

  “Halt,” growled Niall, his weapon aimed at the rider as he broke from the forest.

  A cry went up from Calders, who had clearly spotted the newcomer, and Donald rounded the carriage.

  The duchess’ carriage door swung open. “Phoebe,” Elise’s called. “Niall, what's happening?”

  “By heavens.” Phoebe stared at the newcomer as he cleared the forest and moonlight illuminated his face. “What is he doing here?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Don’t shoot,” Phoebe cried. “I know this man.”

  Niall didn't move a muscle. “Come forward ye bloody fool,” he said. “I’m not inclined to heed the lady until I see your weapon on the ground.”

  Phoebe groaned. This is what an Englishman got for stepping onto Scottish soil. “Adam,” she called, “what in God’s name are you doing here?”