by Aubrey Wynne
*
Fenella hadn’t been sure what to expect and was thankful Rose had insisted she wore a dress more suitable to a social occasion. Both MacNaughtons wore fine wool kilts in a checked pattern of red, blue, and green. A sporran hung at Lachlan’s waist, a long cream-colored tassel dangling from it. His thick auburn hair was combed back, the longish waves licking the collar of his neckcloth. A white linen shirt stretched across his powerful arms beneath a waistcoat that matched the blue in the tartan. White wool stockings disappeared into polished shoes with shining buckles. Her eyes traced the lacings that crisscrossed and hugged his muscular calves. As her gaze slowly made their way back up his handsome form, their eyes met. His held laughter and desire. That darkening of blue she’d come to recognize when he was about to touch her. The look that made her stomach tumble and her legs weak.
Then he told her she was a vision, and Fenella’s mouth went dry. She murmured an appropriate reply but could think of nothing else to say. Until a finger poked her in the back and she introduced Rose.
Fenella watched the giant move forward with grace and ease and claim Rose’s hand. “He has charm and manners?” she asked Lachlan.
The Scot shrugged. “We’re no’ heathens, ye ken. We practice the social graces when it suits us.” He grinned at his cousin and Rose. “It seems to suit him today.”
Her grandmother made a comment and then shooshed them into the dining room across the hall. Lachlan offered an arm to Fenella and Grandmama. The table was set with the good service, shining silver, and delicate blue flowers bordering the plates and platters. Wine glasses sparkled on the white tablecloth, which also had a pattern of dainty embroidered bluebells. The table usually held eight but was set for five.
“Fenella and Lachlan, if you would take one side, I believe Colin would enjoy sitting next to Rose.” Grandmama grinned and passed around the wine. “To new friends.”
The group echoed her toast and dinner began.
Broth was served from crockery already set out on the table. The aroma of leeks rose from the steam, and Fenella spooned a thinly sliced potato into her mouth. Stifling a giggle, she wondered how many kettles of the thin soup it would take to fill Colin’s stomach.
“Tell us about your family, Lachlan,” asked Rose. “Is the MacNaughton clan large?”
“Weel, with the fealty of the MacDunns and the Craiggs and all our distant relatives, I’d say there’s a couple hundred of us.” His voice held pride and affection. “Colin’s my second cousin—our grandfathers are brothers. I have three siblings, all younger. Ian, who just left the mill, Brodie, and Brigid.”
“Are they married? Still in Scotland?” asked her grandmother.
“I’m the eldest at six and twenty, but Ian’s two years younger and has been married less than a year. Brodie is two and twenty and has no intention of marriage yet. Though he says an heiress might tempt him.”
“But would he tempt an heiress?” asked Colin with a laugh.
“My sister is not yet twenty. Her fiery temper matches her hair, and I believe she’s frightened off any possible suitors from our part of the country.” Lachlan shrugged. “My father died when she was young, and my mother let her play with her older brothers too much.”
“It seems most men dinna want a bride who can outride and outhunt them,” explained Colin. “She’s not one to, well, use her feminine charms. Take me as I am or dinna take me at all, she tells them.”
“Aye, and Ma is at her wits’ end trying to turn her into a lady after a childhood of imitating her brothers. It doesna reflect well on a granddaughter of the clan chief.”
“I would like to meet your sister. She sounds fascinating.” Fenella wanted to ask Lachlan if he preferred independent women, but decided to keep that conversation for another time.
Her grandmother picked up a small silver bell, and it sounded with a light tinkle, calling for the next course. A young girl carried a large venison roast on a platter, surrounded by cooked turnips and onions. She set it down between Mrs. Douglas and Lachlan, then returned with a large bowl of boiled potatoes and fresh bread.
Lachlan picked up the knife and fork, sliced some meat, and offered her a piece. Fenella accepted the venison with a nod. His warm breath fanned her cheek as he leaned toward her. She was inches from his clean-shaven jaw and wondered what it would feel like against her own. After serving his hostess and himself, he pushed the platter to Colin.
With full plates, the conversation began again.
“And what about you?” asked Mrs. Douglas. “Do ye have siblings? And why is it a mon of yer age is not married?”
Fenella had wondered the same and recognized the flash of sorrow pass over the man’s face.
“I’m afraid I’ve no’ been lucky in love, ma’am. My wife and bairn died in childbirth after two years of marriage. I’ve never found another to replace her.” His voice was quiet, and a hush fell over the group. He pushed his fork around the empty plate, searching for an invisible crumb.
Rose covered his large hand with her own smaller one. “I’m sorry for you, Colin. I hope you find that kind of love again. And if not, you were lucky to have it once.”
He turned, then, and looked at the woman next to him. They shared a long, steady gaze that made Fenella’s eyes misty, watching their sudden bond. Her heart went out to this lonely giant and her compassionate friend. She had judged him as a gruff but humorous bear, never considering he might be burdened with a heartrending past. Perhaps her grandmother was right and she was just a little judgmental. A heavy silence hovered over the table.
“Who likes strawberries?” asked Mrs. Douglas, breaking the awkward moment.
Chapter Twelve
A Precipitous Insight
Both men pinned their gaze on the older woman.
“I have some clotted cream to go with them. An old customer has a large hothouse on his estate,” she explained. “He sends me special orders on occasion.”
“These were for May Day but came late, so Grandmama thought she’d save them for our dinner today,” added Fenella.
The bell tinkled again and the lighthearted mood returned. Plates were cleared and bowls of strawberries, clotted cream, and warm scones were set before them. Once again, Lachlan served Fenella. She saw him silently scan the number of berries and add four to their dishes and her grandmother’s. He passed the fruit to Colin who did the same, emptying the bowl.
The clotted cream was dolloped on the berries and the scones. For a time, there was only the sound of spoons clinking against china and quiet moans that proved the end of the meal to be delectable.
“I’ve no’ had such a good meal since I arrived in Glasgow,” said Colin, wiping his mouth and leaning back in his chair. “I thank ye for the invitation.”
“I’m happy to have ye both. Shall we retire to the parlor? I’ll have tea sent in or pour something stronger if the men prefer it.” She rose and placed her napkin on her plate.
The men quickly stood, and Lachlan moved back her chair. They followed her across the hall.
“Mrs. Douglas, would ye be so kind as to play for us?” asked Colin. “I miss the family gatherings and the music. My cousin has a fine baritone to accompany ye.”
“Only if ye promise to attempt the pipes later,” added Lachlan.
“I’d love to hear a ballad.” Rose smiled up at the dark Scot next to her. “I’m known to have a fair voice and happy to take a turn.”
Fenella noted the pleased look on her grandmother’s face as she settled at the pianoforte. What a lovely afternoon this had been so far. Lachlan took his place by the bench and looked through the basket of music.
“What about Maggie Lauder?” he asked.
“I don’t believe I’ve heard of it,” said Fenella. “Is it a love song?”
“No’ really, it’s a sprightly tune, often used in reels. It will liven us up a bit, I think.” Her grandmother looked over the music, her fingers soon flying over the keys. Lachlan began the lyrics with a grin.
Who wouldna be in love
Wi’ bonnie Maggie Lauder?
A piper met her gone to Fife,
And spier’d what was they called her
Right scornfully she answered him
Begone ye hallenshakerl
Jog on yer gate, ye bladderskate
My name is Maggie Lauder.
Colin began clapping and Fenella and Rose both joined in as the song began another verse. Her foot tapped to the infectious beat, and her stomach tumbled along with it each time she caught Lachlan’s gaze. She wasn’t sure if it was his deep resonant voice or the smile in his eyes as he sang.
They applauded and Lachlan took a bow when it was over. “Colin, it’s yer turn,” he said to his cousin.
Colin rose and moved to the corner and picked up the bagpipes. Adjusting the drone and testing the chanter with several blows, he looked at Rose. “I also play the whistle. If Mrs. Douglas would accompany me, I’d enjoy hearing ye sing.”
“If we can settle on one I know,” she agreed.
Colin took a deep breath and filled the bags; the first haunting tones enveloped the room. He played a woeful Scottish tune of a soldier leaving his home for war. Lachlan leaned against the mantel, his eyes closed as he listened. While there were no words, Fenella found herself blinking back tears at the keening strains of the instrument. They all clapped enthusiastically when he finished.
“Do ye ken the works of Robbie Burns?” Colin asked Rose.
She nodded.
“Ae Fond Kiss?”
She nodded again with a smile and went to stand by the pianoforte. “Mrs. Douglas, do you know it?”
“By heart,” she said with a smile. “It’s a poignant ballad.”
Fenella felt the cushion of the settee dip as Lachlan resumed his seat next to her. “I’ve heard this one,” she said softly as her grandmother began the first notes. “It’s a song to his unrequited love, Nancy.”
Colin picked up the penny whistle, which true to its name, had a whistling wind-like thread that added a sweetness to the song. He moved to stand close to the women, his eyes never leaving Rose. Her husky voice seemed to blend with the chords, and Fenella found herself closing her eyes and letting the lyrics take over.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
His warm breath tickled her ear, and she sucked in her own. “Ye’re enjoying this ballad. Are ye a romantic, then?”
She nodded. “Aren’t we all in one way or another?”
A shiver went through her as he lent his low timbre to part of the verse.
I’ll ne’er blame my partial Fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy!
But to see her was to love her
Love but her and love forever.
The song ended but Fenella only heard the pounding of her heart, her eyes locked with the turbulent blue gaze beside her. Something passed between them; some invisible bond attached them in that moment. If they’d been alone, he’d have kissed her. She was sure of it.
“Fenella? Did ye hear me?” asked her grandmother.
She jerked her gaze across the room. “What? No, I beg your pardon.”
“Rose’s voice is a perfect accompaniment to Colin on the whistle, do ye agree?”
Her companion wore an amused look on her face. “I think Fenella was elsewhere during the song.”
The afternoon passed quickly. More tea, more conversation, more covert looks between both couples, and too soon they were back in the entry hall.
“Mrs. Douglas,” Lachlan said with a bow, the chains on his sporran lightly chinking as he bent over her hand, “may I thank ye for a delightful dinner and afternoon?”
“Weel, I dinna mean to speak for my charges, but I believe we should do this again.” An impish smile curved her grandmother’s lips. “Perhaps next Sunday?”
The group moved outside but Lachlan laid a hand on Fenella’s arm and held her back. Pulling her into the parlor, his hungry eyes burned a trail from her eyes to her neck, then settled on her mouth.
“I canna leave without a taste of ye. So if ye’re disinclined, speak yer piece now.”
Unable to form a syllable, let alone a word, she shook her head. His lips turned up, his gaze intense as he bent his head. When his tongue grazed her bottom lip, she held her breath and closed her eyes. The pulsing in her neck slid down the length of her body and settled in the most private of places. His mouth brushed against hers, and Fenella thought she would melt into a puddle like butter on a hot biscuit. Strong hands pressed her body against his, and she could feel his hard desire against her.
Lachlan pulled back, his forehead against hers. “We’d better get outside before Mrs. Douglas comes looking for us.”
He grabbed her hand and led her to the door. Quietly, they joined the group. Fenella knew if anyone turned to study her now, they would know. Her head spun with Lachlan’s closeness and the heat that lingered on her cheeks. She could still feel his lips pressed to hers, the velvet stroke of his tongue, the unfamiliar ache between her legs. Mercy! How this man affected her.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the words around her, she realized Lachlan was speaking. He’d joined in as if he hadn’t just tilted her world upside down. It was still early evening, and the sun glinted on the blue-slated roof, casting the front of the house in shadows of light and dark. MacGregor had returned with the guests’ horses and tied them to the hitching post, pretending not to listen to the conversation.
Lachlan looked at MacGregor and then Fenella. “I’ve been thinking—”
“Och, no. Not again,” interrupted Colin with a chortle. “It’s never a good thing when he does that.”
Fenella wanted to laugh at Lachlan’s irritated glare but clamped her lips shut. The familial bickering between the MacNaughtons was its own source of entertainment.
“What if we returned yer hospitality by taking ye out next Sunday before the meal? We could go to Glasgow Green, stroll along the banks of the Clyde or watch a game of bowls.” Lachlan paused. “Do ye ladies play?”
“My father taught me when I was a child,” said Fenella, surprised her voice held no evidence of the tumult waging inside, “but it’s been many years.”
“I’ve watched enough times but never played,” added Rose.
“Fergus can drive us in the phaeton. If I tire earlier, he can keep me company.” Her grandmother arched an eyebrow at MacGregor, and he gave a nod of his head. “It’s settled, then.”
The men reiterated their thanks, bowed to the ladies, and untied the reins from the hitch. Fenella noticed Rose watched Colin’s tall form mount his horse as she did Lachlan. Mercy! But they looked fine in the saddle. The young women couldn’t take their eyes from the retreating forms until they turned the corner.
“Shall we go back inside?” asked her grandmother, breaking the silence.
They reentered the house, the door closed, and all three women stood silently in the entry hall looking at one another. Then they all began talking at once.
“This was a verra interesting afternoon.”
“Lachlan looked so handsome in his kilt, and his voice…”
“I swear that man is as big as a bear and so finely built.”
“Ladies, ladies,” shouted Aileen. “Let’s go into the parlor and discuss our next step.”
Fenella frowned. “That sounds like some kind of plan.”
Her grandmother grins. “Oh, it is, my sweet lass, it is.”
Rose gave Aileen a hug. “I cannot thank you enough for inviting me to join you. It’s an honor, truly.”
“Och, my granddaughter is the only one close to a title in this house. Ye’re on the same footing as me and the MacNaughtons. Ye eat with us any other time, so why would ye no’
join us today?”
Rose blushed. “I’m a servant, Mrs. Douglas.”
“You are my companion,” corrected Fenella, “as long we are in Scotland. Lady Franklin would have an apoplexy, would she not?”
They all chortled at that image.
“Now,” continued Aileen as they settled in front of the small fire, “I’ll share my observations.”
“Please do,” said Rose.
Fenella sat quietly, knowing her secret was out. Did it matter? Not really, she thought, a loud sigh escaping as she remembered his body so close to hers on the settee.
“Ye already ken, my dear, that I see something between ye and Lachlan. He doesna take his eyes off ye, and ye’re face turns a different shade each time ye catch his eye. And dinna think I missed the short absence at the end.” She patted Fenella’s blushing cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with a wee coquetry. It will give ye something to compare the others to when ye go home.”
Fenella focused on her clasped hands. What if I don’t go home? she wondered silently.
Aileen turned to Rose. “I thought Colin would fall over his own feet when ye walked into the room.”
“It broke my heart to hear of him being widowed.” She chewed her bottom lip. “He is an attractive man. Do you really think he noticed me?”
The older woman snorted. “I’ve some experience with these stubborn Scots. He may no’ admit it, but he was drawn to ye from the first. I think weekly get-togethers would be ideal. Nothing blatant, mind ye, just dinners and minor outings.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind entertaining, Grandmama?” Fenella’s pulse quickened at the thought of repeating this afternoon every week. Every aspect of this afternoon. “You don’t even have a cook! We wouldn’t want to tire you.”
“The kitchen has always been my refuge, and I enjoy cooking. Besides, I’ve missed entertaining. I’ve missed people! Working in the store kept me busy and young.” She chuckled. “I’ll look forward to having a wee ceilidh on Sundays. If I’m no’ mistaken, those men will too.”
Rose slumped against the leather and closed her eyes, a silly smile on her face. “I hope we never go back to England.”