They headed on up the hill toward the sunshine.
As they neared it, the place with the curl of smoke coming from the chimney became apparent. Genevieve froze, suddenly. “Adair,” she whispered. “Look. Sideways.”
He looked side-on to the cottage, where he had indicated. A horse grazed there, peaceful and placid. He frowned, narrowing his eyes. He wondered what it was she saw. Something had alarmed her greatly.
He stared, realizing suddenly. This horse was the horse he had caught a brief glimpse of yesterday. The horse was dark, with a white mark on his forehead and left leg, which was facing them, shaped like a comma. His hair prickled.
“It's him.”
Genevieve whispered it as he came, astoundingly, to the same realization. He froze. His first inclination was to leave, tempered by the equally-strong inclination to stride up to the door, knock on it, and burst in, attacking the fellow. He had meant to kill Genevieve!
He turned to look at her. “What shall we..?”
“Let's go closer.”
Adair stared at her in amazement. Of all the things he would have expected, he hadn't thought of that. As he thought about it, he realized she was right. If they went looking around, they might be able to gather information.
That's clever.
He felt a smile of appreciation lift the corners of his mouth, even as he nodded. “Yes.”
She was already walking forward, with slow grace. He followed, both of them keeping just beside the tree-line, avoiding the windows.
“Do you think we should..?”
Wait. She didn't say it, but held up her hand, signaling a stop. Adair stopped.
They stood there together while she crept slowly forward, approaching the horse on the right side, where they would, he reckoned, be less in sight of the windows. He realized, as he followed her, that was not all.
There's a saddle-pack there.
He felt his brow rise as he acknowledged her insight anew. She was extremely good at this! He smiled. She was remarkable.
She indicated a halt again, and they waited, hearing nothing. Then she stole slowly forward, approaching the pack. They waited a moment. Then she opened it.
She put her hand inside. A tartan, red and black, shone there. He stared.
I know that tartan. I saw it recently.
He must have drawn in a breath, for she turned and frowned at him, questioningly. She put her hand in, but he shook his head quickly. He had seen enough. They knew now who this man followed.
She shrugged and drew her hand out again, and then indicated that they turn around, hurriedly. They did so.
Quickly, silently, keeping to the tree-line, they crept off again, toward the incline.
They walked down silently, neither of them talking. They weren't sure how far they'd have to get away before the loudness of their voices would alert the man in the cottage to their presence. They headed down toward where their horses waited.
“That was him,” Genevieve said, sounding utterly shocked.
“I think we can...” He spoke at the same time.
“What is it?” she asked. “You had a look, as if you know something, as if something we saw made sense to you.”
“It did,” he said. “At least, it will.”
“What?” she asked softly.
“That tartan. I have seen it somewhere. More than once. But recently. It was someone at the house. That night of the ball. They were wearing a cloak. I...Oh.”
Suddenly, many things made sense, all at once.
“MacCleary,” he said, even as she nodded.
“That was who was wearing it.”
“That's the MacCleary tartan.”
They looked at each other. Adair shuddered. He had seen the look on MacCleary's face. It had been probing, lustful. He had only seen that, and been jealous. He had not thought to look any more – to the morbid interest beneath. “He's up to something,” he said.
“He's gathering information,” she said briefly.
“Information?” he frowned.
She shook her head. “My cousins think they can trust him. Perhaps they even talk in front of him about matters involving the cause. They shouldn't. They're risking danger.”
Adair stared at her. “You mean..?”
Genevieve nodded. “I believe he is informing the Hanoverian of what we do here.”
“He's spying?” He sounded incredulous.
“That's what I think,” she said cautiously. She wasn't sure how much she should tell him – her own role for the Cause was not altogether different, since she too was here gathering information. However, her role was simply to collect information for supporters of the same side. She could, in principle, have done so openly, save that her father had requested her to maintain secrecy.
“The scoundrel!”
“Yes.”
Privately, Genevieve wondered at what point he would notice the fact that his interest in the activities of the Cause was paralleled by his interest in attacking her. She would have more questions to answer at that stage, but until then she hoped he wouldn't probe too closely. It was not the sort of thing she could discuss out here in the open.
“We need to get back,” he said, thinking ahead.
“I know. We do.”
He nodded and she nodded and together they rode.
It was just after noon when they caught sight of the manor on the hill, rising out of the surrounding woods. Genevieve was surprised by the depth of feeling in her heart when she saw it. She hadn't known how far her cousins had managed to creep into her heart, but, seeing that home after so much danger, she felt a sense of homecoming.
She smiled at Adair, heart soaring, and he smiled back. Together they rode up to the gates.
ADDRESSING NEW MATTERS
Adair watched Genevieve as she dismounted nimbly and strode to the door. He walked up behind her, more slowly, so that he could watch her from afar and appreciate afresh how beautiful she was.
With the afternoon sunlight playing sweet flame-light down her hair, the bounce and sway of her walk making her figure seem even more exquisite, her sweet smile as she turned to look at him, she was so beautiful that his heart ached.
“Ready?” she said.
He nodded. “Yes. Let's go in.”
They walked up the stairs into the house together.
They were greeted by a cry of delight, and a flash of red and white.
“Adair!” Arabella exclaimed. “Oh! Bless you...you're here!” she turned to Genevieve, wrapping her in a massive embrace. “Cousin! Oh! Thank the Heavens you're safe.”
Adair stood and watched as Genevieve embraced her tenderly, her face soft with genuine care.
“I knew you'd find her, Adair,” she said, turning toward him, her face bright with joy.
Adair swallowed hard. He felt proud. He blinked, surprised. It was a feeling he'd never had before.
Genevieve turned toward him, her one hand still in her cousin's, nodding. “It is good to be back.”
Adair saw the look in her eyes, questing, as if she was asking him to make a space to tell Arabella the news.
He nodded. “Arabella, we have much to tell. Is there a chance of tea?”
Arabella made a face. “Adair, how could you think any less of me? McNowell is already alerted...I had him go downstairs to set some things together the moment I heard word of travelers approaching.”
Genevieve laughed and pressed her cousin's hand fondly. “Of course you did, Arabella. We know you would do nothing else.”
Arabella grinned. Adair saw her raise a brow when she looked at him, speculatively, as if she was noticing something about him that she had never expected to see. He looked away, feeling awkward.
“Well, then. Tea is up in the small parlor. Come and sit down. I think you'd like some peace and quiet?”
“Yes, Arabella,” Genevieve said softly. “That would be good.”
They all went upstairs into the small parlor.
“Arabella, dearest?�
�� Richard's voice called as they went up to the second floor, “Is it...Oh! Adair! And Cousin Genevieve! Welcome.”
Richard walked over and kissed Genevieve's cheek, shook Adair's hand and then turned to Arabella, taking her hand fondly. “Should I fetch the others..?”
“No, dearest. Give them a moment.”
Adair wanted to smile as Richard nodded and stood back, waving the guests ahead of him into the drawing room.
“The rain looks like it'll hold off,” Richard commented, going over to the leather-dressed seat by the fireplace.
“It does,” Arabella nodded. “Genevieve? Tea, yes?” She raised a brow at Adair, who nodded.
“Yes, thank you.”
They all sat down to tea. Adair looked around the room, noting the carved dark wood furniture, the pale silvery drapes by the windows of brocaded velvet. He felt as if he was seeing it afresh for the first time.
Part of me is alive, which was dead before.
His eyes caught on Genevieve and his whole body ached with a warm joy as he noted her relaxed, negligently-elegant way of sitting, her one hand curved round a teacup, body leaning forward in the chair, legs crossed.
She is so beautiful it's almost unbelievable.
He watched her listening to Arabella's news – she didn't mention how worried they'd been, or the intense search that they mounted – but told her about the fire that had threatened in the village, and how they'd sent out woodsmen to help beat back the flames.
Genevieve raised the teacup to her lips and sipped, and Adair caught her eye on him. He swallowed hard, feeling the wash of excitement he always felt, and nodded back, striving for calm.
We have to tell Richard and Arabella our news.
Genevieve cleared her throat. “The guests who were here before I...departed...they are all here?”
“No,” Arabella admitted. “Dalton and Emilia, and MacCleary...”
Adair felt his body suddenly relax, and saw Genevieve's posture shift, though she still looked alert.”
“That is what we wished to talk to you about.”
“My dear?” Arabella asked. “About what..?”
“We found out something.”
Adair shifted in his seat, letting Genevieve begin the tale. She told her about the attack in the courtyard, and Arabella stared, her eyes round. She said nothing about it, though, just let Genevieve tell the tale. When she had finished, Genevieve turned to Adair.
“You tell the rest?”
Adair cleared his throat. Suddenly all the eyes in the room were on him and, oddly, he didn't feel awkward or worried, as he usually would have done. He glanced at Genevieve and swallowed hard, feeling a residual fear – he was unused to being the center of attention – but she looked relaxed and he felt calm flow through him.
“When we were in the forest...we were riding back in the late hours of the night, and we were come upon by the same fellow, the one from the courtyard.”
He told the tale of the attack in the woods haltingly, leaving nothing out. They told the last part together, about the discovery of who was behind the attack, or who they suspected and why.
“No!” Arabella exclaimed at the end, horrified. “Oh, my poor dears! And that scoundrel!” She looked at Richard, who nodded.
“This is very grave. We have to do something.”
“And because you are French, he suspected you of being involved with the Cause, planning with France...” Arabella shook her head. Adair saw Genevieve go pale, and he frowned, wondering why.
“Well, there does seem to be only that reason why he would...” Genevieve demurred, trailing off. Adair nodded.
“It's a shocking thing,” he said. “But we have to warn you. He is clearly not who he leads people to believe.”
“No, exactly,” Richard nodded. “Well, he will be dealt with,” he said lightly.
Adair felt his brow rise. Always so relaxed and at ease, Richard and Arabella seemed the most unlikely people to be planning any drastic response. Nevertheless, when he saw their eyes touch, and Arabella briskly brush crumbs from her napkin, passing around the tray of raisin-cakes, he realized that there was something important being planned.
“We should mayhap rest,” he said, looking at Genevieve, who, now that their vital information had been passed on, seemed suddenly wearied. She looked at Arabella, who nodded.
“Of course! We made sure the room was refreshed...if you wish to go up? I'll have a bath drawn...”
Genevieve nodded. “That would be lovely, Arabella.”
Adair looked out of the window, not wanting to think too hard about Genevieve, and baths, in the same thought.
He headed up to his own chamber shortly afterwards. A fire was burning in the grate, and the air was steadily warming. He went over to the long window and stared down at the garden.
He felt as if he had only woken to life this morning, as if he had been for his whole life half-asleep, and he was now awaking to the world, seeing detail for the first time.
“I should make ready to go.”
He realized that his two weeks of visiting here were almost at an end. The thought of returning to the small, dark fort in the high, silent hills with his hateful father seemed like a thought from another life. He no more belonged to that world than did the birds outside the window belong to the world of caverns.
“I'll go downstairs and talk to the stable-hands.”
He surprised himself by not feeling overly-worried. He didn't wish to go back to the fortress, and he felt sure that, should he wish never to do so again, there would be a way of avoiding it. He didn't belong there anymore.
He headed down the stairs into the garden.
As he walked across to the arbor from the stables – he had a mind to stretch his legs and enjoy unexpected sunshine – he heard someone call out.
“Adair! There you are! Welcome back.”
“Ascott,” he said, smiling. He went over to his friend, slight apprehension tight in his stomach – his friend had known the old Adair – silent, locked in his sorrow and guilt – would Ascott recognize the new Adair?
They shook hands. He saw Ascott's eyes gently quest over his face, and a trace of a frown pass over his friend's blue eyes. He winced, but then Ascott smiled.
“I am sure you have a lot of tales to tell.”
Adair looked down. He felt a shy happiness flow through him at the thought of all the things that had passed between riding out and now. He wanted to talk to someone – to share the sweet flame of joy that ignited in his heart the moment he thought of Genevieve. He simply smiled and hung his head.
“Yes, I do.”
“Splendid,” Ascott nodded, sounding like he genuinely meant it. “Well, one thing we have to consider is how to ride back? I take it we'll be going back north soon?”
Adair found it was automatic to shake his head. “I think I'll stay on awhile, Ascott. If you could take word to Hume Manor for me?”
Ascott raised a brow and nodded. “Well, of course,” he said, shrugging. “I would be going that way anyway. I want to see Emilia again. It's time I settled things in a way more satisfactory for both of us...” He beamed.
Adair felt warm happiness bubble in his heart. He nodded. “Friend, I am pleased,” he said. “And give my regards to Emilia when you see her. I'll be staying on for a while longer.”
Ascott nodded. Adair had an odd feeling that his friend had guessed something, for, though he said nothing, there was a smile of congratulations on his face that suggested he knew why Adair was staying. Adair swallowed hard and looked away.
I have no idea if she will take me.
He hadn't really thought about what he was planning to do; simply knew that it was right, and that he wished to do it with every part of him, knowing that things would follow whatever course they should.
“Good luck, friend,” Ascott said, nodding.
Adair swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“Well,” Ascott shrugged. “I should go back in and tell Richard I
'll be off tomorrow. I'm sure he has post to be taken north for him,” he added, nodding.
“Yes,” Adair said, nodding slowly in agreement. “I'm sure.”
He stayed where he was in the sparking sunlight in the orchard, the light glistening off the raindrops, setting rainbows arcing between leaves, and felt his heart was more open and alive than he had ever felt in his life.
Then, still grinning, he turned around and walked back to the house.
In the hallway, he could hear Arabella talking to someone in the parlor, her voice carrying downstairs, sounding lighter and more cheerful than he had heard it in a long time. He grinned to himself and, swallowing hard, headed up the stairs toward the drawing room. He didn't wish to return to his own room – he had too much to think about and didn't like the thought of walls holding him in like a cell.
He was about to go into the drawing room when he stopped, halting in the doorway. He saw a tall, slim form there, wearing a dress of green brocade with a slashed skirt showing gray-figured silk beneath. He took a slow breath and watched her, drinking in the sight of her beauty.
Her black hair lay in long curls down her back, stirring a little with the motion of her slow breathing. Her hands, long and pale, were clasped in front of her skirt, her cheeks just tinged with red on the high angle of her fine bones. She seemed completely peaceful.
He wasn't sure if he should disturb her. He hesitated in the doorway, and then cleared his throat.
She turned, seeing him standing there. Her eyes widened and then grew gently peaceful. “I thought I heard you there.”
He blushed. “I didn't mean to disturb.”
“You are no disturbance.”
Adair felt his cheeks lift with a smile. She smiled too. They didn't say anything, just walked together to the window and stood there, looking out together.
He cleared his throat again, nervously. “I wanted to...”
“I should go back next month...”
Adair flushed and grinned. “You speak first.”
She laughed. “You always say that.”
He looked away shyly. “Genevieve,” he said, feeling his voice wobble, “I...there have been some things that I have wished to say to you.”
Shadowy Highland Romance: Blood of Duncliffe Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 19