Kissing the Lass (Scot to the Heart #2)

by Charles, Jane

  “How did ye get tea?” Did the servants disturb him so early and why hadn’t she heard them arrive?

  “I had best confess. I usually rise with the sun. My first morning here, I begged your cook for tea, a kettle, cups and a pot so that I might enjoy it before others rose.”

  “They would have brought it to ye. All ye had to do was ask.”

  “Arabella, sometimes I rise before the sun, sometimes long after, depending on how late I work… late it is before I turned in. I didn’t want to be an inconvenience and as I have the same arrangement at home, your cook and I came to an agreement here.”

  She heard him and understood, but she was confused. “Ye started to say work. What do ye do late into the night?” As far as she understood, there were no professions that required late night hours other than thieves, cutthroats and whores. A least in the country. Perhaps London was different.

  Instead of answering her, Gideon pulled away and crossed to the small kitchen where he began to prepare a cup of tea. Arabella could only assume that it was for her, but why didn’t he answer her question. What secret was he keeping from her?

  Nay, there was two other late night professions, at least in her corner of Scotland: Smugglers and Excisemen. But, Gideon said he did not wish to investigate smuggling and there was nothing for him to smuggle. Goodness, had he learned about the family business? Did he feel it his duty to turn them in? Or, was he struggling with a decision because they were now married?

  If he didn’t know about the smuggling, should she tell him? What if he learned without her being the one to confess?

  Goodness, they might have become closer last night, but there were still so many secrets. However the family secret wasn’t for her to tell. That was up to Uncle Aiden.

  Oh, dear, what a quandary.

  “Gideon, what doona ye wish to tell me.”

  His head dropped, as if there was a weight upon his shoulders. It couldn’t be so bad could it?

  Were his activities illegal? They really didn’t know what he did after he returned to this cottage each night. Often, he didn’t even stay for tea after supper. Did he leave and go participate in something nefarious while the rest of them were at the manor?

  “Was he a highwayman?”

  “A what?” Gideon asked as he whipped around.

  Oh dear. “I hadna meant to speak aloud.”

  Then he started chucking. “How did you jump to the conclusion that I was a highwayman?”

  Arabella’s face began to burn and only grew warmer as she listed the possible things that he could be doing at night that could be deemed work, depending on one’s perspective.

  By the time she was finished, he was laughing so hard that Gideon could hardly hold himself up and was wiping tears from his eyes.

  She supposed they were all ridiculous ideas, but what else was she to think? There was very little legal work to be done in the middle of the night.

  “Come here.” Gideon held his hand out to her then drew Arabella to the table. “This is what I do a good portion of the night.”

  She stared down at the table. The pages were filled with nothing but writing, and it wasn’t correspondence either, but a story. “Yer an author?” she asked, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “How exciting for ye!” Giddiness bubbled up. There was nothing she liked better than a good story.

  “Though, I do believe that you might have a more vivid imagination than mine.” He chuckled as he walked back to the kitchen to retrieve her tea. “You really came to the conclusion I was a highwayman.” He chuckled again.

  “I admit, it might have been a small leap.”

  “Small? I call that a grand leap, but I won’t hold it against you that you thought your husband was a thief.”

  Thank goodness, as she didn’t wish to start the first full day after their handfasting fighting.

  “Come, sit with me.”

  Arabella was eager to acquiesce as she wanted to hear all about his being a writer. Then frowned. “I thought ye didn’t have a purpose or were at a crossroads?”

  Gideon looked down at her, his eyes warm with deep affection. “That I was, until I met you.”

  Gideon settled into the chair across from her, much as they had done last night. Except now she wore a nightrail, which barely concealed her beauty and form. He set the saucer from his own cup of tea upon his lap to try and hide how her presence, dressed in so little, affected him physically. In time, she would be his, but it was too soon and Gideon vowed not to make her his until she wanted it as much as he.

  “First, I need to know if you can keep my secret.”

  “Nobody knows you are a writer? An author?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Nobody but our butler at Trent Manor and I wish to keep I that way.” He hoped she understood the importance of this secret.

  “Why only your butler?”

  “Because he is responsible for the post and is able to retrieve correspondence from my publisher without anyone knowing it has arrived.”

  She nodded. “So, ye have been published or are ye hopin’ to be.”

  “I’ve been published,” he assured her, not yet ready to tell her who he truly was.

  “Do people like yer stories?”

  “They appear to.” You do, he wanted to say.

  “Of course, you would not keep writing if others did not enjoy them.” The she frowned. “I doona remember ever seeing yer name upon a book. And if yer published, how is it that nobody kens?”

  “I write under a pen name.”

  “Would I have read any of yer books or is it somethin’ I migh’ not be interested in.”

  Gideon simply smiled at her. “You’ve read my work.”

  “I have. How do you ken?”

  “You’ve read The Gentleman’s Journal.”

  “Aye, but I only read the serials by G. T. Oliver. I dinna read anythin’ else, but I’ll be certain to once ye reveal yer pen name and once I can get the journals from Niel.”

  “There is no need, Arabella.”

  “Of course there’s a need. I want to read what ye’ve written.”

  Was it so unfathomable that he was G. T. Oliver? Did she love the author’s work so much that she couldn’t imagine that Gideon had written it? Perhaps he shouldn’t tell her.

  Except, she’d want to know and this was about being honest with one another. They had a lifetime together and Gideon couldn’t keep something so monumental from his wife. “I need you to promise me that you will not tell a single soul my pen name before I reveal it to you.”

  Arabella formed an X over her heart. “I promise to keep yer secret. I’ve very good at keeping secrets.”

  He supposed she was since she’d not yet let on that her family was a den of whisky smugglers.

  Gideon took a depth breath, opened his mouth, but could not make the words come out. It was one thing to be anonymous and not have to face the criticism and secretly enjoy overhearing others discuss his stories in a positive light, but revealing himself somehow made it more personal.

  “Tell me.” She practically bounced in her seat in anticipation.

  Gideon took a sip of his tea then set his cup and saucer aside and leaned forward. “I am…” He blew out a breath. “I am G. T. Oliver,” he said aloud for the first time in his life.

  Arabella’s mouth popped open as her eyes widened in surprise. “Nay?” she said as a grin began to form. “Is it true?”

  He supposed his biggest fear was that nobody would believe him and then judgment would follow.

  “Yes. It’s true.”

  “This is so excitin’! And yer writin’ another story now?” She gestured to the table.

  “Yes. I began work on it shortly after I arrived.”

  “Why were ye afraid to tell me?”

  “Because you loved the author and I feared you’d be disappointed once you learned who was behind G. T. Oliver.”

  “Nay, it makes me love the stori
es more,” she assured him right before her smile slipped as confusion filled her eyes. “Then why did ye tell me ye were at a crossroads and not certain what to do? Yer an author, so I doona understand.”

  Gideon blew out a sigh and then explained how The Gentleman’s Journal had decided to no longer publish his stories because they were for a female audience, and how he was afraid there were no more stories to tell and nothing was in him. He told her that he hadn’t been able to write in weeks because the stories were gone from his imagination.

  Arabella reached out and took his hand. “But yer writin’ one now.”

  “It was here, Scotland, you, a combination, but the stories are back and why I’ve spent so much time in the cottage.”

  “We’ll, ye doona need The Gentleman’s Journal,” she said in a way that indicated nobody needed that journal. “Yer books had all but disappeared from the bookstore, and I’m sure there are other journals that would wish to have yer serials.”

  If anything, Gideon knew that he could always count on Arabella to bolster his confidence if it slipped in the future. Or, at least he hoped that was the case.

  “Can I read what ye’ve written?”

  His stomach tightened at her request. “No.”

  Immediately her face fell, as if crestfallen.

  “It is rough. The only person who sees my stories in this condition is an editor.”

  “But they’re yer words,” she insisted.

  “In the roughest form, I assure you. Right now I’m telling the story, but edits need to be made by myself and then an editor before it is ready for anyone to read.

  “So ye willna let me read it until it’s published?”

  Her bottom lip came out and it was the closest he’d seen to a pout from her since their meetings.

  “Do not try to get around me on this,” he scolded, hoping that this attempt at manipulation wasn’t something she’d try in the future as he had no patience for it.

  Immediately Arabella rolled her eyes. “Verra well, but ye canna blame me for tryin’.”

  And in that blink, he was confident that if there ever was an artifice, it would be short lived, and perhaps playful, which was something he could endure, and possibly adore.

  “How about if I promise to let you read it before anyone else, but only after it is polished?”

  Her entire face lit up. “Ye’d do that?”

  “Of course. You’re my wife.”

  Chapter 24

  Wife! She was his wife whether it be for a year and a day or until the end of time, that is what she’d become yesterday and as Arabella watched her falcon fly, she could not be sorry, or worried.

  And, she was married to G. T. Oliver. Arabella was tempted to pinch herself to make certain this wasn’t all a bizarre dream.

  “Do you ever get used to the awe of watching them fly?”

  “Nay,” Arabella answered Gideon’s question as she watched William soar high into the sky, his wings full, barely flapping as he glided on the wind. That’s when she realized that when it came time for her to leave Anagburn, there would be no one left to care for her falcons. “What am I goin’ to do?”

  “About what?” Gideon asked in concern.

  “Niel is just goin’ to have to hunt, that’s all there is to it,” she answered for herself.

  “Your falcons,” he said as if suddenly understanding. “You are going to miss them.”

  “Aye.” Arabella sighed. “Perhaps not retrieving the kill, but their majestic flight and attack of their prey…their beauty.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Aye, I’ll miss my birds verra much.”

  With that, Arabella sucked in a breath and wiped her eyes. There was nothing to be done for it because eventually she’d be forced to leave here and she’d need to find something else to occupy her afternoon while Gideon wrote, or did whatever it was gentlemen did during the day.

  “As we aren’t leaving today, you still have time to spend with them,” he offered.

  It was not possible that he’d understand. His passion was writing, which could go with him wherever he traveled. Falcons could not. This was their home even when it was no longer Arabella’s.

  Besides the falcons, there was Bonnie Prince as well. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears. She’d gotten him as a pup and trained him to retrieve. Bonnie Prince would remain because she had no need for a hunting dog, though having a pup as a pet would be nice.

  William had reached his altitude and as much as Arabella wanted to pull her spaniel close, she set him free to flush out the game, heart heavy that she might not have much more time to enjoy these moments.

  Oh, why couldn’t Gideon decide to remain here? This is where he’d begun to write again. They could be happy.

  But, in her heart, she knew, above all, Gideon needed the coast. More than he needed her.

  The pain in her eyes was nearly Gideon’s undoing. Arabella struggled with the future of leaving this behind. Her falcons, spaniel, golf and whisky were as much a part of her as writing was to him, but he could think of no alternative, save remaining right here. And, as much as he enjoyed the cottage, it was on the MacGregor land and far too close to the MacGregors. If anything, he needed distance from them. But not so much that Arabella would feel completely cut off from her family. He’d just need to find the perfect location for their home--one that worked for both of them.

  If he had confidence that he alone could make her happy, Gideon wouldn’t worry so much, but that was the only confidence he lacked.

  She turned to him. “Ye doona need to stay with me while we hunt. I ken you have a book to write.”

  The only time he wasn’t pulled to write was when he was out here with Arabella. “It can wait.”

  “Are ye certain?”

  Even if he was itching to get back to parchment and pencil, Gideon wouldn’t leave Arabella right now. “I’m very certain,” he assured her.

  There was a sense of vulnerability around her that he feared his absence would only cause to increase. How long would it be before she was comfortable riding away from Anagburn, to venture to the unknown, trusting that he’d care for and protect her? Would that day ever come?

  As his right, he could take her from here, but he had made a promise to remain for a short time. The question remained for how long. Further, he did need to return to Cornwall before Sophia and Rafe sailed for Italy since he didn’t know when he’d spend time with his sister again.

  Usually Arabella hunted for approximately three hours, but it was as if she didn’t want to quit today. Didn’t the birds need to rest eventually? Was she trying to capture memories or was she too afraid to put them in the mews for fear that it would be the last time, despite his assurances.

  “I suppose that is it,” she finally sighed when Robert got his third kill. Usually the birds only took down two prey in any afternoon.

  Even Bonnie Prince was lacking energy, resting at her feet, lying on the ground instead of sitting between the hunts.

  “Would you like to return to the manor or the cottage?” Gideon asked.

  “The manor.”

  A depression was sinking into Arabella and Gideon had no idea how to halt it. Was this one of those instances where it would have been best just to yank her from the situation, force her to move forward, instead of allowing her to dwell in the past instead of facing a future?

  It had been the same concern as Gideon had watched Tristan come to terms with the death of Elaina, though the death of a wife was far more permanent than leaving one’s home. Arabella could return at any time. Elaina was gone forever.

  The two of them walked in silence back to the mews and she released Robert inside, before letting young Duncan take Bonnie Prince back to his pen. As they rounded the front of the manor, Arabella came to a stop. A carriage awaited outside and Bentley and his wife were exiting the manor, along with John and Elizabeth.

  “Where are ye goin’?” she asked.

  “We are traveling to the Grants, where we will
spend our final night in Scotland, and then home.” Bentley then looked at Gideon. “We are no longer needed here.”

  As he’d been caught and married, something Bentley had hoped to help him avoid, Gideon understood why the remaining Trents found no reason to continue at Anagburn. “We’ll be back later in the year, or perhaps we will see the two of you if you come to visit.”

  “Perhaps we will,” Gideon assured him. As much as he should have taken time to spend in conversation with Bentley and John, repairing the family ties that were destroyed so long ago, he hadn’t. Instead, he had spent his free hours writing or with Arabella. “Or, you can always come to Cornwall.” He knew Tristan wished to repair the relationship as well.

  “It is something to consider,” was all Bentley would offer before helping his wife into the waiting carriage.”

  Mrs. MacGregor came out a moment later, dabbed her eyes and then waved as the carriage pulled away.

  “I will miss them, but it isn’t for good. We’ll visit again.”

  There were far too many tears to Gideon’s liking, but he couldn’t really blame either woman. Mrs. MacGregor was seeing the last of her family leave Anagburn and Arabella was trying to come to terms with when it came time for her to do the same. But, nobody knew what the future held and Arabella would see her family at least a few times a year. Gideon would make certain of it. It was the other things that she’d miss that he’d need to find a replacement for. However, golf courses, falcons and mews weren’t reasonable gifts for a wife.

  “Lord Gideon, a package has arrived for you,” Mrs. MacGregor said after a moment. “It’s been placed in the front hall.”

  A package?

  After Arabella and Mrs. MacGregor entered, Gideon followed and was handed the bound package. It had come from Cornwall. He’d expected a letter from his family, but not this. Taking it, he wandered into the parlor and settled into a chair before tearing the paper away. A piece of parchment lay on top.

  Lord Gideon,

  In your absence, I’ve collected your correspondences as requested. When Lady Scala asked that I post her letters to you once she learned your location, I bundled the whole of it in the order they were received and prepared. If I may be so bold, might I suggest a strong brandy as you read as I believe I know the news contained in your sisters’ missives. I wish you safe travels upon your return.