Adam's Call (The Victorian Highlanders Book 3)

by Ellie St. Clair

  He walked over to the corner of the room and picked up his prototype. He felt rather vulnerable in showing her, but perhaps it would better explain what he was thinking. He placed it on the small table in the corner of the room, and when she began to hobble toward it, he reached out a hand and helped her, practically lifting her the few steps over to the bench in front of it.

  As he had when he was helping his mother dress Rachel’s wound, he felt a bit of a tremor run through him at her slight frame in his hands. She was such a wisp of a thing, and yet seemed to possess an inner strength. Where did it come from?

  “Thank you,” she said, a becoming pink blush creeping up her face.

  She leaned over the model, running her hands along the wood he had carved, moving the blades of the wind turbine he had created on such a small scale.

  “Did you create this?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “It’s incredible woodwork,” she said, her eyebrows drawing together as she looked at it.

  “Oh, ’tis nothing,” he said, embarrassed at her remarks. “You should see my father’s work.”

  He showed her how the thing moved, his hands settling over hers, and he felt a shock run through him where they touched. She seemed somewhat engrossed in his explanation, asking him questions about electricity that proved a far greater knowledge of it than most people possessed.

  “How do you know so much about the subject?” he asked her.

  “My father’s business,” she said in surprise. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. He runs a power plant.”

  “Your father?” he asked incredulously. How could such a man successfully run such an operation?

  “Yes, my father,” she said with a low, throaty chuckle that turned something within him, something he had not felt in a very long time. “He’s a businessman, truthfully. He began the power plant a couple of years ago with a partner, a man who does understand the workings of the operation. My father’s role is more regarding the relationships required with other vendors, owners of buildings, and the city of London. Sullivan — his partner — he has told me much of the workings of the plant, which is how I know of it.”

  She paused for a moment.

  “Sullivan would likely be interested in learning more of your design,” she said. “I don’t see how it would work within the city, but perhaps it would allow for an extension into the countryside, where everything is much more spread out.”

  He was already shaking his head before she finished her explanation.

  “This is just for me and my clan, for now at least,” he said. “I dinna wish to share it further.”

  “All right,” she said with a shrug. “Though if you ever wanted to speak to someone about what you’re working on… I’m sure he would be interested.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, to keep her from continuing to push the idea on him. “And your man, Vincent, he is involved with the company as well?”

  “He is not my man,” she responded with a look of vehemence. “He is my father’s choice for me and for his own successor as well. I suppose he sees himself in Vincent, which is a scary thought.” She sighed. “I wish he would allow me to succeed him instead, but of course a woman should not be involved in such work. He will scarcely allow me in the door of the plant, let alone learn anything about it, and of course would never think to provide me with any work there. No, instead I am to do what? He would rather I sit at home and keep house for him, until it is time for me to do so for another man.” She sighed again. “In time I’m sure he will realize Vincent is not a proper match.”

  Adam’s resolve toward the woman began to soften, as he took in the distress in her eyes. She truly was in a situation, and he wasn’t sure he could help her out of it, though he supposed he could provide her some words of advice.

  “I was told once to follow my heart and it could not lead me wrong,” he said, looking out the small window of the storage shed. “Many of my countrymen are making their way west, across the sea. However, I could never follow suit. My brother Roderick wants to go, and perhaps Peggy, too, someday. But I will never leave. My home is here, in these Highlands.”

  “I can see why you feel that,” Rachel responded. “It’s beautiful here. Truly. Despite all that has happened, I am very glad I came.”

  She bestowed on him a smile that lit his heart, bringing to life feelings he should certainly not be having.

  He stood abruptly. “Come,” he said. “Let’s see where Peggy has gotten off to. It’s nearly noon, time for luncheon.”

  He didn’t lift her again, but followed her out the door, walking closely beside her to ensure she remained steady on her feet.

  She may be small, but she was packing a mighty punch on him. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  10

  The bed was as soft and snug as it had ever been and yet somehow now that she knew Adam better, was aware of his scent and the fact that she was lying in his usual place, she somehow could no longer sleep. She tossed and turned as the comforting smell of him filled her, the blankets seemingly holding her as if they were his own arms.

  Stop it, she scolded herself, you’re being ridiculous. The man was too serious, too curmudgeonly, and yet… there was something about him that held her attention and wouldn’t let go. At first, she thought it was his seriously dark, handsome good looks. And yet all of the brothers seemed to hold a similar bearing, each attractive in their own right, but she was drawn to Adam like she had never been to a man before. Certainly not Vincent, she thought with a laugh. Perhaps that was it — she had simply been around Vincent so long that any other attractive man held her attention.

  She knew, however, that was not the case. True, Adam wasn’t exactly the droll, humorous type, but she was beginning to realize it was more that he was simply thinking, analyzing what was happening around him. He truly thought about what he wanted to say before he spoke, which was actually quite refreshing for a change.

  She tried to push him from her mind and return to sleep, but she was also incredibly thirsty — perhaps from the concoction Jane had continued to encourage her to drink to keep any pain at bay, although Rachel had to say her leg hardly even throbbed at all now. She looked for the cup of water on the bedside table but found it empty. She sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon.

  They had all told her to call out if she needed anything, but she certainly was not going to rouse anyone from their beds in order to get her a cup of water — that was ridiculous.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, slightly grimacing as she did so. Perhaps the pain hadn’t quite disappeared after all. You’re stronger than this, Rachel, she told herself, and, in the darkened room, quite determinedly found the walking sticks Adam had fashioned for her. They did afford her a great deal of freedom, and she hoped he would make the design more widely known so that others could benefit.

  The kitchens were, of course, one level below, but she did not let that deter her as she grunted and groaned her way down the stairs, taking them carefully, one step at a time. She was rather pleased with herself when she finally reached the bottom, and began making her way down the corridor to where the ancient kitchens were housed.

  She was about to push open the door when she saw light emanating from the room through the open crack of the door. It seemed someone else was unable to sleep tonight. She peered around the door and saw broad shoulders bent over the table, the dark head of the man down as he stared into the cup before him, his fingers tapping idly on the table. Adam. Forgetting her thirst, she was suddenly overcome with nerves at the thought of sitting down alone with him, and she began to slowly back away.

  “Are ye going to come in or stand in the hallway all night?” he said suddenly, causing her to jump and let out a bit of a squeak.

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked, tapping her way into the kitchen.

  “I could hear ye coming from the moment you started on the stairs,�
� he said. “Ye’re not exactly silent with your assists.”

  “Oh,” she said, embarrassed she had not realized it. “I suppose you’re right.”

  She looked around the kitchen, trying to determine where she could find a cup. She hobbled over to a side cupboard and began searching through. Adam saw her struggle and rose, his large frame coming up behind her, suddenly dwarfing her. He placed a large, warm hand over her small one.

  “Here,” he said, “let me help.”

  She tried to ignore the tingle that coursed through her at his touch as she moved to the side, allowing him to find a cup.

  “What would you like?” he asked.

  “Water, please,” she said, and he nodded his head, filling the cup for her as she made her way to the small table. After she seated herself across from his place, he set the drink in front of her.

  “What has you awake at this hour?” he asked, re-settling himself on the wooden bench.

  She felt her cheeks warm. She couldn’t very well tell him that she had been thinking of him lying in the bed, now could she?

  “I, ah… um… my leg was bothering me,” she said, rather flustered, and his face changed to a look of concern.

  “I thought it was healing. I hope it’s not infected. Would ye like something more for the pain? I’m sure my mother has something in the cupboards if I remember how to brew it…” His head craned around as if looking for answers to her problem.

  “Oh, no!” she said, not wanting to take any more of the concoction. “It’s fine. It’s just slightly uncomfortable is all, and then I found myself rather thirsty, hence my journey here to the kitchen.”

  “Well, if there is anything ye should need, you’ll tell us, aye?” he said with a raised eyebrow and she nodded.

  “Why are you all so nice to me?” she blurted out. “My father was nothing but rude to you, and I know I rather vexed you, though not purposefully. I’m only here because of the stupidity of a member of our hunting party. And yet you’ve all been nothing but wonderfully kind, bringing me here, seeing to my welfare, and caring for me. Why, you’ve even given up your bedchamber for me!”

  “’Tis fine,” he said. “Though Roderick snores awfully loud.”

  “Oh,” she said, feeling even more guilty. “I am so sorry.”

  He laughed. “I’m only jesting. We have plenty of bedrooms.” He waved a hand in the air as if dismissing her concerns. “And we would do the same for anyone who was in need, be they Scottish or English. It’s in our blood, I suppose. As long as ye are not fixing to take our land or harm our people, then we’ll do right by you. Except for my mother.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising her head at that, surprised, for Jane seemed nothing but kind.

  “My mother will help anyone, friend or foe,” he said with a laugh.

  “She is rather wonderful,” Rachel said wistfully.

  She saw him look at her with question in his eyes, but she wasn’t quite ready to share that part of her story with him.

  “It seems ye have a sad story to tell, lass, but there is no need to share with me,” he said, and her heart turned, suddenly wanting to tell him more as a way to become closer to the man.

  “For now, tell me the story of you and your fiancé. Ye must be looking forward to being reunited,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, and she stilled, suddenly remembering what she would return to shortly.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that Vincent is not my fiancé?” she said vehemently, and he gave a short laugh.

  “It seems the man has other ideas — as does yer father. When he was here, he was going on about your upcoming wedding, and how ye were not to be left alone with the likes of us. I’m sure he would sorely disapprove of this nighttime rendezvous.”

  She looked down, unable to meet Adam’s eyes at his last sentence, choosing to answer him with the seriousness of which he began this conversation.

  “My father… certainly has his own views on my life and how things should be,” she said. “However, I’m sure he will soon come to understand that I have no wish to marry Vincent, not now or ever. Vincent is… well, I suppose one could say that Vincent thinks rather highly of Vincent.”

  Adam laughed at that, his face breaking out into a beautiful smile that warmed not only her heart but her entire body down to her toes. His laugh was a musical sound and made her smile, then join in. She had not meant to jest, but she supposed a man who regarded himself as highly as Vincent did perhaps deserved a laugh on his behalf.

  They shared the smile for a moment, but soon she lost all brevity as his face took on a rather serious facade as he stared at her, as if trying to learn more of her.

  “Adam,” she said, her breath suddenly hitching in her throat, not really knowing what she was going to say, but feeling she needed more from him, from their time together. “I… I just want to say that I …”

  “Aye?” he said, leaning over the table towards her.

  “I’m sorry if the English have been so utterly boorish toward you,” she finally said, unable to speak aloud what was running through her mind — that she had feelings toward him she couldn’t explain, feelings that went beyond friendship and gratitude, but rather something more profound, something she had never felt before. She felt a pull toward him that came from deep inside her, and she wanted to know him so much better. When she’d come to the Highlands, she had yearned for adventure. Never did she realize she would find it, not only in the land, but in a person as well. She wanted to tell him so badly, but she had never been particularly forward, and she didn’t know how to even begin putting her thoughts into words. Instead, she simply looked up at him, trying to convey all she felt through her stare.

  He looked down at his hands and cleared his throat. “I ah, I should be getting back to bed,” he said. “As should you. I’ll help you to your room.”

  “Your room, you mean?” she said with a smile. “I should be fine.”

  “Well, let me take you up some water then, at the very least.” He rose and filled her empty cup. As they made for the stairs, she glanced wistfully back at the kitchen, as if leaving the room somehow had left behind the opportunity to find what she was truly looking for.

  11

  Adam followed closely behind Rachel as they slowly climbed the stairs. He badly wanted to help her, to pick up her small, dainty frame in his arms and carry her to bed, where he would lie down with her and soothe away all the troubles that furrowed her brow so. That, of course, was not to be. No, this beautiful Englishwoman was not for him, but for another, a gentleman who could provide her all the riches and pretty things he knew she would both want and deserve.

  He did hope, for her sake, that the man did not turn out to be the idiot from the hunting party. For he was, as she had astutely pointed out, a man so admiring of himself that he would have little time to see beyond his own countenance and appreciate a wife, no matter how perfect she was.

  He started at that. Perfect? Only a couple of days ago, he could barely stand the woman. And yet here she was in her nightclothes, her shapely curves just in front of his face as he followed behind her to ensure she didn’t fall down the stairs, tantalizing him as no woman ever had before. He wanted her, badly, but not only her body. He longed to know what was flitting through that mind of hers that held so much more than likely most people realized. He wanted to know her secrets, her thoughts, and her dreams, to discover what she truly wanted of life and then give it to her.

  Stop it, he told himself. Nothing would ever come to be, so best forget it and leave the lady alone. She certainly was — both literally and figuratively — making strides, he realized, as she climbed up the stairs. She was a determined little thing. He had been surprised — they all were, to be honest — when his mother had told them how old she was. She was already past 20, despite the fact she looked to be in her teens. The practical nightgown Peggy had loaned her was not only far too big on her slight frame, but also did not suit her. He could see her in laces and beautifu
l silks and satins, not the cotton Peggy favored.

  They stopped at the bedroom door and stood for a moment rather awkwardly.

  “Here, let me take yer water in first,” he said, bidding her to wait at the door. He figured a nighttime meeting would be enough scandal, let alone for them to be together alone in her room.

  He set the water on the bedside table, then returned to the door, where he waved a hand as if motioning her in. “All the bed bugs are gone,” he said with a forced smile, as he was finding it more and more difficult to stand here with her looking upon his own unmade bed, an imprint of where her body had been staring him in the face. “Goodnight, Rachel.”

  “Goodnight, Adam,” she said softly, and as he continued down the hallway to climb the steps, he forced himself to resist turning to meet the stare he could feel burning into his back.

  Peggy was in quite exuberant spirits the following morning.

  “Good morning!” she said cheerfully to Adam as he walked into the room. Adam didn’t mind mornings, but he was not quite as cheerful as Peggy — he didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be as lively as Peggy in the mornings.

  “Are you not excited?” she asked him when he failed to respond quite as enthusiastically.

  “Excited for what?” he asked, confused at what she was talking about.

  “For the wedding and the dance today!”

  He had completely forgotten that one of the crofters was getting married. The McDougalls had offered the great hall for the wedding reception. Now that he thought about it, he realized that the keep did look rather cleaned up and prepared.

  “Hmm,” he said. “That’s right. It slipped my mind.”

  “How is that possible?” she said, slapping a hand to her forehead dramatically. “We have been preparing for it for days! My, Adam, for a man who is so intelligent you do miss the simplest things.”