“Why does Fergus act the idiot around her?” she said, turning.
Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her.
He smiled. “You’ll have to ask Fergus.”
“He won’t answer.” She took a deep breath, exhaled it. “He’s changed since the war, Gordon.” She turned to face him.
“Men do.”
“Then why are you so eager to go away to war?”
“To protect what’s ours,” he added. “Perhaps to prove ourselves.”
“Why, when you come back damaged and broken?”
“I didn’t make the war, Shona. In the end, the generals do.”
She shook her head. “No, but you were eager for it.”
“And you sleep safely in your bed because men like me stand ready to defend those who would harm you.”
“You couldn’t wait to go, I understand.”
“Why should I stay?”
He didn’t move his gaze from her face, not even when she paled. This, too, he’d learned as a soldier. To always face the enemy, to never allow his own fears or inadequacies to surface.
“There wasn’t much here,” he said. The woman he’d loved had married someone else, an act of betrayal he’d come to accept. But never understand.
“Did you love him?” he asked, feeling his temper rise. He forced himself to calm. “You never said.”
“Why are you here?”
Her attention drifted away from him, to a spot on the floor.
“To talk to Fergus, but he’s taken himself off again.”
“It’s Elizabeth,” she said. “He won’t remain in the same room with her for long.”
“Women have that power over men. They either make our lives better or miserable. Did you make your husband’s life miserable, Shona?”
She took a step to the side, as if to avoid him. He found himself mirroring her move, the sudden flash of panic in her eyes interesting him.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“I want you gone,” she said, pointing up her chin.
He took another step toward her.
“
Why
are you afraid of me?”
Her eyes widened.
“Do you think I’d punish you for what you did? How could I do that? What punishment would be fitting, Shona?”
“It was a very long time ago,” she said, taking a step away until her back hit the wall.
“An infinity,” he agreed. “And yet, I can remember every single word Fergus said. ‘She’s to marry the Earl of Morton.’ ”
She didn’t respond, but he didn’t expect a response.
He smiled. “I wondered, for a time, if you were with child. Would it be mine? Or his? Then, when there was no announcement of the blessed event, I wondered if you’d simply lusted after the earl. Did you play me false there, too, Shona? Did you keep his bed warm, at the same time you met me?” He took another step toward her. “Or was it just his money?”
He reached out and touched the very tip of her nose, but she jerked her face away.
“I had money, Shona. Oh, we wouldn’t have lived in a castle like Gairloch, but our home would have been large enough. I’d inherited the Works then, and could have provided for a wife well enough. Why not my money?”
Her eyes flashed. “It was seven years ago, Gordon. Seven years.”
“An infinity,” he said again. “Would you go back?” he asked, a question that evidently surprised her from her startled expression. “Would you go back seven years ago, Shona? Would you do things differently?”
She looked down at her clasped hands. Her voice, when she finally answered, was faint. “Please go away, Gordon. Leave me alone.”
Oh, if he only could. If he could banish her from his mind, he would have, seven years ago.
Could a man lust after a woman he didn’t trust? Evidently, he could.
“Did you please him in bed?”
She closed her eyes.
“Didn’t he ever want to know why you weren’t a virgin?”
She sighed, opened her eyes, and regarded him somberly. “If he was curious, he never once mentioned it.”
He turned, walked toward the doorway, something else he’d learned from war. When to stay and fight to the last man, and when to retreat.
“Yes,” she said to his back.
He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“Yes, I pleased him in bed,” she said, her gaze direct. Her smile, light and fleeting, was more a goad than a genuine expression. “You were a good teacher.”
He silently contemplated her a moment longer before turning and leaving the room.
Damn her.
Chapter 13
F
ergus stood at the window of the west tower, a place of refuge for him. From here he could see the whole of Imrie land, imagine the clan going forth on raids or to war, coming home in wagons, or buried in far-off places, only their shields returned to represent a life lost.
From here, he could see the forest around Gairloch spread out like a flattened hand over the glen, fingers of green stretching toward Loch Mor. The trees were already hinting at winter, turning gold and rust. Here and there, clumps of gorse sheltered quail, offered flowers for the deer to nibble on during their scamper up the hills. From the other side of Gairloch, the view was of the rugged yellowish gray and black base of Ben Lymond.
Nature had blessed the day with color. The sky was a blistering blue, with not a cloud to mar the perfection of it. The loch glinted silver in the afternoon sun. There, on the horizon, the sky darkened. Not an approaching storm but night come to soothe this part of the world.
In both Russia and India, this view had been a lodestone for him. After he’d been wounded, it had been a place to imagine when pain stripped every other thought from his mind. He’d lain aboard the ship bearing him home with his eyes closed, a determined smile on his lips, wishing himself here.
Shona didn’t understand that. She didn’t understand that all he had left was Gairloch. Take that away, and who was he? No longer the laird of the Imrie Clan. No longer the steward of this land. He had no money to support anyone, even himself. He had a Victoria Cross for “most conspicuous bravery and extreme devotion to duty in the presence of the enemy” and an annual pension of ten pounds. Hardly enough to maintain Gairloch. Nor was it enough to support a family.
He knew nothing about farming, but it was just as well. The land might appear lush and green, but it was an inch of soil atop rock. He might do as other lairds were doing, raise sheep. How did he get the money to buy sheep?
“I thought you’d be here.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Gordon.
“I should have remembered you knew about this place.”
“Your hidey-hole, then? Have you gone to ground like a fox?”
“What better time? Gairloch is filled with Americans and Shona walks around just waiting to snarl at someone.”
Slowly, he turned and faced his friend.
Gordon didn’t respond, but then he rarely did when Shona’s name was mentioned.
With Gordon, he’d climbed Ben Lymond or reenacted famous battles in which the Imries had played a significant part. He’d imagined himself a laird of old, holding a wooden sword aloft and shouting the clan motto, “Be afraid of nothing,” in Gaelic. Gordon had no choice but to play a minor role as transplanted border reiver or one of the English.
That had all changed when Gordon returned from school. Then, he and Shona were rarely apart. A blind man could have seen what they’d felt for each other.
“Is Elizabeth the nurse you told me about?” Gordon asked now.
He saw the look in Gordon’s eyes, that implacable “I’ll wait forever” expression. As a commanding officer, it had been intimidating. As a friend, it was just annoying.
“Yes,” he said.
Gordon didn’t answer, merely waited.
He turned and stared out at the view again. Would he ever tire of looking at Loch Mor?
“What happened between you?”
“What do you think happened?”
“I’ve just met with your sister. I’m not in the mood for another taste of Imrie pride.”
Fergus smiled. “Is that what it is? I thought it was a taste of Imrie reticence.”
Gordon’s laughter exploded in small tower. He couldn’t help but smile despite his mood.
“When the hell have the Imries ever been reticent?” Gordon finally said.
He shrugged.
“What happened?” Gordon asked, relentless in his curiosity.
“I fell in love. She didn’t.”
He discovered that he loved her smile, the sound of her voice, even her laughter.
“She kept telling me that she’d been directed never to socialize with patients. I told her I wasn’t her patient, and we weren’t socializing, merely sitting in the garden. She said she couldn’t accept flowers from me when I picked a few and presented them to her.”
His gaze shifted to the cupola above them. The ceiling had been carved into patterns of the night sky: stars and a quarter moon.
Gordon didn’t speak. When the hell had he learned that endless patience? The rest of the story was even more pitiable, and Fergus spoke it quickly before he lost his nerve.
“All of my letters were returned,” he said. “Then, I’d heard that a ship had gone down and several nurses had been aboard. I thought she was one of them.”
“You never discovered differently?” Gordon asked, his voice holding the same measure of incredulity he’d felt.
“Not until she walked into Gairloch yesterday,” he said.
“Have you talked to her?” Gordon asked.
He shook his head.
“What the hell are you going to do about it?”
He hadn’t the slightest idea.
Thankfully, Gordon didn’t press him for an answer.
“I came here today for a different reason entirely,” Gordon said. “I need a manager for the Works, and I thought of you.”
“Good God, why?”
“You’ve got to do something, you know.”
“Do I?” he asked, turning his attention back to the view beyond the window. “What do I know about managing an ammunition factory?”
“About as much as you did manning an artillery emplacement,” Gordon said. “Or being a hero.”
That coaxed a laugh free. “I didn’t mean to be a hero, Gordon. The lads were just in trouble, that’s all.”
“You single-handedly saved twelve men, as I recall.”
He folded his arms, leaned against the window. “I remember being scared out of my wits. All I was thinking was how damn loud the cannon were, and wishing I could run a little faster.”
“I need someone I can trust at the Works, Fergus. Why not you?”
Fergus turned and smiled at him. “Haven’t you noticed?” He held up his cane. “I’m lame.”
“You’re not a damn horse. You walk with a limp. At least you’re alive.”
Fergus felt his anger flare then fizzle, as if he didn’t have the energy to keep it burning.
“Is that why you’re not going to confront your nurse?” Gordon asked. “Because you see yourself as a cripple?”
“Yes,” he said, turning away. “And it’s no good trying to reason me out of it, Gordon. You can’t talk my wound away.”
Without another word, Gordon turned and left the tower.
A good thing, really. The problem with old friends was that they saw too clearly and too much.
N
o doubt Gordon had returned to Miriam’s side to apologize for her poor behavior.
“You’ll have to excuse the Countess of Morton. She’s being an ass today.” Would that be a good enough explanation? Better than the truth, surely. “The Countess of Morton is being flayed alive by the past. She’s in pain at the moment and wants to cause the same pain in everyone else.”
Gordon had hurt her and he could hurt her again. Could she wound him as easily? If so, she’d never know it. Perhaps he was more courageous than she, but then he’d gone to war.
So had she—against herself.
Shona grabbed her shawl and left the parlor, intent on finding Miriam to apologize. She’d been unpardonably rude, or perhaps just a few steps beyond that. She would make amends, not because it was the right thing to do. Not because her mother had taught her to always be a kind and gracious hostess. No, she would go and grovel to Miriam Loftus because she needed Mr. Loftus to purchase Gairloch.
Gordon would be pleased, but she wasn’t concerned about pleasing Colonel Sir Gordon MacDermond at the moment. The sale of Gairloch and moving from Invergaire Glen would be easier if Gordon continued to view her with barely veiled contempt.
How could she bear it if he began to court Miriam?
She pushed that thought away.
No one was in the Clan Hall. She really should go check on everyone, see what needed to be done, what tasks were next. She should do another inventory of the pantry and larder. Perhaps worry some more. About the only thing she could afford to do lately was worry.
What would she do if she saw Gordon and Miriam together again?
She would smile and pretend that it didn’t affect her in the least. She would simply clamp a lid down on that part of her that was determined to remember another time, even though it was the very same place.
“He’s a very attractive man,” Miriam said, startling her.
The room was empty, but she looked toward the door to the Family Parlor. Because of the height of the ceilings, sound traveled well between the two rooms.
She looked toward the corridor, then back at the doorway. She really should leave. Now, before she heard anything else.
“He’s almost worth being in this godforsaken country, Elizabeth.”
“I thought you were engaged, Miss Loftus,” Elizabeth said.
“Do you know why we’re in Scotland, Elizabeth?”
“I believe your father’s grandparents were from Scotland.”
“We’re in Scotland, Elizabeth, because I’ve agreed to marry Robert Simmons, a protégé of my father’s. In exchange, I am to have Gairloch as a wedding present. I’d much rather have a few dresses and an emerald or two. What on earth will I do with a moldering old castle? In the meantime, why shouldn’t I find something of interest in this awful country?”
“Yes, Miss Loftus. Shall I tell your father you’ll be along?”
“Poor thing, is he feeling unwell?”
“He is resting, but requested your presence,” Elizabeth said.
“I’m the only one in this entire moldering place who’s attractive and personable,” Miriam said.
“Yes, Miss Loftus,” Elizabeth said.
Did she imagine it, or was there an edge to the nurse’s voice?