by Monica Burns
“What are you doing in here, Ross?” The sharpness of his tone made the boy flinch, but Ewan jerk his gaze away from the child.
“She was restless, my lord. She cried out for someone, so I held her hand to let her know she wasn’t alone.”
It was a quiet, fearless reply that made Ewan respect the boy for his refusal to be intimidated. No matter how much he ignored the child or how harshly he spoke to him, the boy never faltered beneath Ewan’s abrasive disapproval. The boy didn’t even seem to realize that Ewan wanted nothing to do with him, or if he did know it, the child was determined to ignore it.
Ewan rose to his feet to check on his patient. Her sheets were clean and crisp, and he could only assume Mrs. Selkirk had changed the woman’s sheets again while he slept. The clock on the mantle began to chime the hour, and he looked over his shoulder at the clock. He returned his gaze to his patient.
“The woman is fine now. You’re not to trouble her again. Now go. Mrs. Selkirk will be waiting on you for breakfast.” Ewan didn’t look at the boy as he spoke. Instead, he adjusted the covers over the woman. The boy didn’t move, and Ewan slowly turned his head toward the child. “Do as your told, lad.”
“Yes, Father,” Ross said softly. The child’s response aroused a fierce anger inside him, and Ewan glared at the boy, but remained silent. A chastened look crossed Ross’s features before he slowly laid the woman’s hand down on the bed then left the room.
When the boy was gone, Ewan bowed his head with his eye closed. He knew he shouldn’t be hard on the boy. The child was innocent. A familiar anger hardened his muscles. The boy might be free of sin, but the mother was not.
His patient stirred and murmured something unintelligible. He checked her forehead again for any sign of fever, but it was cool to the touch. He saw her eyes fluttering open, and he quickly stepped back into the shadows. It was irrational to desperately want to shield her from his deformities. Even worse was his need not to face her horrified gaze again. Aware she no longer needed him, Ewan strode toward the door.
“Wait. Where am I?” she asked in a soft, unsteady voice. He looked back toward the bed, and saw her looking in his direction with a sleepy-eyed, bewildered look on her lovely face.
“You’re at Argaty Keep, lass. You’ve been sick ever since I found you on the moor.” Ewan pulled the door open. “I’ll send Mrs. Selkirk in to tend to you.”
He didn’t wait for her reply. He simply left the room and closed the door behind him, grateful to be done playing nursemaid. A voice in the back of his head cackled like a bean nighe.
Chapter 3
Louisa blinked her eyes and stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her head was throbbing and she closed her eyes against the pain. Almost immediately she regretted doing so as her nightmares from last night filled her head. Images of a one-eyed beast hovering over her. Its boney fingers clicking in her ear like knives scraping against each other as they menacingly threatened to cut her into small pieces.
A shudder jarred her body, and Louisa’s eyes flew open in an attempt to make the image disappear. The vivid memory slowly faded as the face of a boy flitted through her head. It was impossible to see him clearly, but she was certain he’d been real. She touched the back of her hand where she could still feel the warmth of his touch.
The memory of the boy receded, and the image of a man pushed its way forward. Engulfed in the shadows his tall figure had been barely visible. He’d spoken to her, and although she couldn’t remember what he’d said the sound of his voice had been kind and soothing. But it was what he didn’t say that made her heart weep for him. The man’s emotions had been almost tangible, and they’d pressed relentless against her senses.
Only one other time in her life had she sensed such pain, anger, and despair in someone. The stranger’s emotions were as deep and profound as the ones Caleb had projected when Georgina had died. As Louisa tried to piece her jumbled thoughts together in some coherent fashion, a crackling pop echoed out of the fireplace.
Where was she? The small fire casting its light on her surroundings made it possible to see most of the room except for its shadowy dark corners. The only other light in the room were the thin lines of soft gray that outlined curtains over a large window. Louisa tried to sit up, but she’d barely raised her head up off the pillows before the room began to spin around her. At the same time, her stomach lurched in the same nauseating way it had when she’d carried Wills.
Closing her eyes, Louisa inhaled several deep breaths for a moment in an effort to make the nausea go away. She looked up at the ceiling once more then slowly turned her head first to her left and then her right. There was nothing recognizable in the room, which made it obvious she wasn’t at Callendar Abbey. She winced as a small throb pulsed in her temple. In bits and pieces, the events of the past day fluttered through her head like puzzle pieces coming together.
“Caleb.”
Her quiet cry echoed softly through the room. Aside from her nightmares, the last thing she remembered clearly was Caleb standing in front of her, ordering her to get up off the ground. Louisa squeezed her eyes tightly shut to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. The an dara sealladh had never been as vivid or clear for her as it had been last night. Her brother had been so real she could have reached out and touched him.
The throbbing in her head made her wince as she touched the side of her head. Her fingers brushed over a small knot on her temple to lightly trace the lump. It was just a little smaller than the size of an egg. She must have hit her head on a rock when Tulipan had thrown her. Louisa blew out a sharp breath of exasperation. She should have known better than to choose the blasted animal over Colman as the best horse to ride to Doune Castle. The wagon.
Oh dear God, Fergus. Had someone found him?
Louisa shot up then quickly sank back into the mattress as nausea rolled over her. Eyes closed, she shivered as the room’s chilly air blew across her skin. She pulled the bedcovers up over her shoulders, and a split second later she drew in a sharp breath. Dear Lord, she wasn’t wearing any clothing. Who had undressed her?
The memory of the man in the shadows made her inhale a sharp breath. Surely, he hadn’t undressed her. Humiliation swept through her at the possibility. Devin was the only man who’d ever seen her naked. Her gaze scanned the dimly lit room in search of her clothes, but she didn’t see them anywhere. If she were to ensure Fergus was safe, she needed to dress, which meant finding her clothes.
The sudden sound of the door opening made her grow rigid. A second later, she relaxed as a plump woman with a smile on her face entered the room. The woman was carrying a tray while a young girl followed close behind carrying Louisa’s dress.
“Tis good to see ye awake, lass. We were quite worried about ye there for a wee bit.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at the younger woman. “Maggie, open those curtains then go back tae the kitchen and see tae it Lord Argaty’s breakfast is ready for Asadi tae take it up tae his lordship.”
The woman carried the tray to the night stand, and the dishes on the large platter rattled noisily as she set it down. The young maid laid Louisa’s clothing on the end of the bed then scurried to the window to open the drapes. Although it was gray and rainy outside, the light served to give the room a much more inviting atmosphere.
Louisa caught the warm scent of porridge with a small whiff of honey. It smelled as good as what Mrs. Campbell made every morning at Callendar Abbey. Her stomach growled as the delicious smell of bacon wafted beneath her nose, but she ignored her hunger.
“Where am I? Is this Doune Castle? Has someone found Fergus? Is he all right?”
“You’re at Argaty House, lass. But I do no’ ken a Fergus.”
“Fergus is my driver. He was injured. I left him at the wagon and went for help.”
The woman stared at her in confusion, and Louisa’s heart sank. Fergus had been out in the storm all night, and the canvas would provide only so much protection. Horrified the man was most likely still
lying injured on Doune Road, Louisa pointed toward her clothes at the end of the bed.
“I must dress,” she said fiercely.
“It’s too soon for ye to be out of bed, lass.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Louisa said stubbornly. “Now, hand me my clothes.”
A frown creasing her brow, the woman’s cheery expression faded as she reluctantly retrieved Louisa’s garments. As Louisa dressed with the woman’s help, the effort took its toll on her weakened state. When the buttons on the back of her dress were done up, she rose to her feet. Instantly, another wave of nausea careened through her. One hand clutching the corner of the night stand, she sank back down onto the mattress.
“Och, now, lassie. Dinna ye fash none. I’ll tell McCallum tae be seeing after your driver.” The older woman clucked softly in the same fashion Aunt Matilda always did when she was consoling her. “You’re too weak to be up and about yet.”
“Mrs. Selkirk is quite right.” The sharp voice made Louisa lift her head and look toward the door of her room. “You must stay in bed or you’ll undo everything my son has done to make you well.”
The woman walked toward the bed with a regal bearing, but it was the cold expression on her face that made Louisa remain silent.
“I am the Dowager Countess of Argaty. And you are?” The woman arched one eyebrow as she eyed Louisa with dislike.
The sudden image of a young boy filled Louisa’s head. She was certain it was the same boy she’d seen in her dreams, but the forlorn expression on his face made her heart ache. The child was in desperate need of love. It was an emotion this woman withheld from all those around her, including the child.
Without thinking twice, Louisa gave the woman her married name, deliberately omitting her title. She had no idea why she’d done so, she’d simply followed her instincts. Almost as if she could tell Louisa wasn’t being completely truthful, the dowager countess narrowed her eyes at her. Not even her childhood harridan of a governess, Miss Crimwald, had ever looked so sternly at her.
“Well, Mrs. Morehouse. You’ve managed to turn this household upside down since your arrival.” The woman pinned a look of disapproving appraisal on her, which puzzled Louisa. It wasn’t as if she’d planned on coming to Argaty.
“I am sorry, my lady. I can assure you it was not my intent. I was on my way to Callendar Abbey—”
“That’s several miles north, why would you have left Doune Road to come here to Argaty?” The cold question immediately set Louisa’s teeth on edge.
“Our wagon broke an axle, and my driver was hurt. I decided to ride for help, but lightning made my horse bolt, and he threw me in the process.”
“And yet you somehow managed to ride in the direction of Argaty.”
“If by that you mean I failed to control a frightened animal and as a result was knocked unconscious when I landed on the ground then you would be correct,” Louisa said through clenched teeth.
It was all too apparent as to why her aunt didn’t care for the dowager countess. Struggling to contain the anger bubbling up inside her at the woman’s unpleasant manner, Louisa managed to keep her response polite—barely. She knew Sebastian would commend her restraint, especially when what she really wanted to do was to give the woman a scathing response to her blatant accusation. The implication that she’d purposefully chosen to ride Tulipan in the direction of Argaty was absurd, particularly when she’d had no idea where the Keep was.
“You are either very brave or very foolish, Mrs. Morehouse, if you really are a widow.” The woman’s contemptuous words made Louisa stare at the woman with indignant astonishment before she slowly stood up to face her.
“I lost my husband in a fire almost three years ago, my lady. That you suggest otherwise is not only rude, but cruel.” Louisa met the woman’s gaze coldly as she tilted her chin upward in defiance. If she’d expected even a small measure of respect for not being intimidated, Louisa was wrong. The woman’s gaze swept over her in open contempt. Without apologizing for her insult, the dowager countess turned to the woman standing beside Louisa.
“I shall leave Mrs…Morehouse in your capable hands, Mrs. Selkirk.” The woman’s pause was another deliberate insult, and Louisa drew in a sharp breath of anger.
The only reason she failed to reply with a scornful retort was because she was too amazed at the woman’s blatant dislike and disdain. If Sebastian were here, even he would have trouble being polite to this woman. Deep inside Louisa wished her eldest brother was here. Although she was quite capable of standing up for herself, Sebastian had the ability to condemn and silence someone with just a look.
Louisa had absolute faith in the Earl of Melton’s ability to make the dowager countess wilt beneath his withering gaze. Regrettably, her brother’s talent was one she’d never mastered. With the bitter taste of outrage in her mouth, Louisa watched the dowager countess turn and walk toward the door. The woman had gone only a few steps when she looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Selkirk.
“And see to it she has some nightwear as it appears she’ll be with us for at least one more night. I understand from my sister that the woman wore no clothes while my son cared for her.”
As the woman walked out of the room, Louisa was unable to offer any form of irate retort as she stared at the door in horror. Dear God, the Earl of Argaty had been her nursemaid, and she’d been naked while he cared for her. A tremor shot through her, and the moment she swayed on her feet, Mrs. Selkirk quickly wrapped an arm around her waist. The plump woman gently encouraged Louisa to sink down onto the bed.
“There now, lass. Don’t ye be minding the countess and her cruel words. She only has ice where her heart is supposed to be, that one does,” Mrs. Selkirk muttered with disgust. “Come now, why don’t ye get back into bed. Maggie brought a nightgown for ye.”
“No,” Louisa said firmly. “I need to know that my driver is all right. Someone needs to go to Doune Road and see to his care. He’s been out there all night.”
“All night, lass?” Mrs. Selkirk eyes widened. “But his lordship brought ye tae Argaty two nights ago. The burns were too high to cross, and we couldn’t fetch the doctor from Dunblane. The earl learned how tae treat fevers while he was in the East fighting the savages. The mon barely slept trying to make ye well.”
“Two days?” Louisa gasped as she stared up at the woman in horror. “Oh dear God. If no one found the wagon or Fergus…he could be dead.”
“I doubt that, dearie. A little rain never hurt a Scotsman. I’m sure the mon will be all right.” Mrs. Selkirk patted her hand in a comforting gesture. “Here now, eat your porridge, and I’ll go find McCallum to send someone out tae look for your driver.”
With one last pat of Louisa’s hand, the woman hurried from the room. Louisa watched the door close behind the woman then turned toward the breakfast tray. The thought of food made her nausea return, and she slowly stood up to unsteadily make her way toward a nearby chair.
As she sank down into the cushions, she sighed with relief. She probably should have crawled back under the covers, but she was already dressed. Tucked under the covers would only make her restless, even if she were still feeling ill. She had always been a terrible patient. A point all her siblings, and even Devin, had stressed on the rare occasions she’d been unwell.
Eyes closed, she knew how frantic her family must be at the moment. They would be reacting the same way all of them had when Percy had gone missing just a few months after the fire. When she hadn’t arrived at Callendar Abbey, she knew either Alfred or Mrs. Campbell would have found a way to begin a search. The family retainers would have sent a telegram to London the moment she couldn’t be found.
The entire family would be in a state of panic at her disappearance. The fire had made everyone deeply aware of how short life was. She needed to send a note to the abbey telling everyone where she was and that she was safe. A soft sound made her jerk her head toward a darkened corner of the room.
“Who’s there? Show yourself this
minute,” she snapped more out of frustration than fear.
Louisa was certain there were plenty of dead souls roaming the earl’s home, but she was more than a match for any ghost at the moment given her level of anger at her situation and the dowager’s antipathy. At her command, a young boy stepped into the dim light provided by the fire. Louisa drew in a sharp breath. The child from her dreams.
For a moment they simply stared at each other in silence, and she wondered if the boy was a spirit before she saw his chest move as he drew in a breath. He appeared to be the same age as Charlie, but he had a serious air about him that was unnatural for one so young. A shock of dark red hair with brownish undertones highlighted his pale features.
Tall and slenderly built, she could see his blue eyes were bright and steady as he met her gaze. But it was his solemn manner that troubled her the most. She was so accustomed to her sons’ cheerful smiles and the happy sounds of children playing whenever she was at Melton House. This boy appeared to possess none of those qualities.
“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” The boy walked forward to lightly touch her hand. “I came to see how you are feeling.”
“I’m feeling much better, thank you…” She paused and narrowed her gaze at him in a silent demand for his name.
“Ross Colquhoun, miss.”
“And I’m Mrs. Morehouse,” she said with a smile. “Well, Ross Colquhoun, are you aware that it’s quite inappropriate to enter a woman’s bedroom without permission.”
“Yes, ma’am.” An uneasy expression flashed across his face. “Father would not be happy with me.”