Never Kiss a Laird (2 page)

For about one second, Hugh
considered telling his Godmother about Lady Clarissa, but he quickly dismissed
the notion. Knowing Lady Waverly, she would have him engaged, married and
several children on the way, with letters sent out immediately to all her
cronies.
 
Until he knew his own mind,
discretion would be a better course.

So he merely said, “Thank you for
your advice, Godmother.”

“
Hmph
,”
the old lady snorted.
 
“I don’t have time
to worry about your affairs now, anyway.
 
I told my daughter to send me her disgraced chit, and I’ll teach the
girl to mind her elders.
 
She certainly
can’t go to London;
there isn’t a respectable family that would receive her. But I have no doubt
that I can talk sense into her.
 
The only
thing to do is find someone to marry the wretch.
 
And that reminds me. What are you about to be
coming home just now?
 
The Season is just
getting into full swing, and here you are, returning to the country.
 
You won’t find a bride if you spend the
Season hunting birds at Castle Kane, Hugh.”

“I do plan to return to London in a week or two,”
Hugh temporized.
 
“I have some business
to attend to, and admit that I had hoped to get in some hunting.”

“You’re a sad disappointment to me,
Hugh.
  
I would have expected to see you
married long before now, and starting your nursery.
 
What your father would say, I hate to think.
 
Your father has only been a year in his
grave, Hugh, and you appear to have forgotten every precept that he taught you.”

Hugh had not been an ungrateful
son, but he knew a moment’s gratitude that his strict father, a noted sermonizer,
was no longer here to favor him with his comments.
 

The glimmer of his rueful smile reappeared
in his dark eyes.
 
He had known this
would be an unpleasant visit.
 
All he had
to do was make it through dinner, as his godmother always retired early, and
then tomorrow he would be on his way to Castle Kane.
 
This thought kept him going through the
bitter monologue his godmother maintained through all six courses of the meal.

When his head finally hit the
pillow much later that night, a fleeting, compassionate thought went through
his mind for Lady Waverly’s unfortunate, compromised granddaughter.

Chapter Two

The next morning dawned crisp and
clear.
  
Hugh made an early breakfast,
and was away from Waverly before his redoubtable godmother had left her
chamber.
 
Feeling like he had made his
second lucky escape in as many days, he urged Rufus into a canter.
 
He could legitimately stretch this trip out
for at least a week, he figured with a feeling of optimism, maybe even two.
 
His mind was caught up the pleasurable
occupation of planning out a week of fishing, riding, and hunting, when Rufus
rounded a bend in the road and came to an abrupt stop.

“Come on now, boy,” Hugh urged, but
as he looked up he was met with an unexpected sight.
 

A small traveling carriage, having
suffered some mischance while taking the corner, blocked the road, leaning
drunkenly on one side, two wheels sliding into a ditch.
 
There were too many trunks strapped to the
top of the vehicle for balance, and one of them had fallen from the roof.
 
A burly groom was trying to tug the heavy,
corded trunk out of the ditch before it could sink into the fetid water at the
bottom.
 
He was being directed by an
agitated older woman in a serviceable grey cloak.
 
A younger woman in a blue cloak that billowed
in the morning wind was struggling to calm the two horses,
who
were stamping nervously under the backward pull of the coach.

Hugh took the situation in with a
quick glance, and sprang from his horse.
 
He went first to the
groom,
and reaching down
to grab a strap on the trunk, pulled it easily up onto the road.

“Thank ‘
ee
,”
the groom panted, wiping his brow.

But Hugh was already gone, heading
quickly to the frightened team of horses, who were trying to rear up in their
traces.
 
He approached from the side,
pushing the girl in the blue cloak out of the way, and grasping the bridles
firmly.
 
Coaxing and cajoling the team,
he backed slowly away, urging the team to come with him in a gentle, but
compelling voice.
 
Under the amazed eyes
of the groom, the stamping horses quieted and pulled forward, straining to obey
the soft voice, and bring the carriage with them.

“Step up, there you go,” Hugh
urged, and with a final lurch of the team, the carriage righted, all four
wheels on solid ground.
 
“Well done,
lads,” Hugh rubbed the long broad noses of the two horses, and they swished
their tails, as if in response.

The groom approached, taking the
bridles from Hugh with a grateful look.

“That was very well done,
Sir!”
 
he
exclaimed.
“Very well indeed!
 
You have a way with horses, that’s as plain
as the nose on my face.”

“Not at all,” Hugh replied easily.
“The wheels were barely over the edge, and the carriage out of balance with all
those trunks.
 
Your team just needed a
bit of encouragement.”
 
He looked over at
the young woman he had pushed away from the frightened team, and was astonished
to meet an infuriated gaze.

The young woman had pushed the hood
of her blue cloak back, and
a flurry of red-gold curls had
escaped and were
whipping around in the cold, brisk wind.
 
She was exceptionally pretty, and appeared to
be exceptionally angry as well.
 
Hugh
raised one eye brow in a silent question, an action that seemed to inflame the
girl’s ire.

“How dare you!”
 
she
exclaimed
angrily.
 
“Arrogant!”

“Now, now, Miss Sally,” the groom
began.
 
“He’s gotten the carriage out of
the ditch.”

“I don’t recall asking for his
assistance,” the young woman exclaimed angrily, her eyes sparked with rage.
 
“I did not ask to be manhandled out of the
way, either.”

Hugh eyed her appreciatively.
 
She looked to be no more than eighteen or
nineteen years old, tall for a girl, with red-gold hair that was escaping in
tendrils from its knot.
 
The expressive
eyes that were shooting daggers at him were the exact same color as her
midnight blue cloak.
 
She had a small,
straight nose, pink lips pressed together in anger, and Hugh caught a glimpse
of an alluringly rounded figure as the cloak whipped about her.

“Should I have stopped to ask
permission, ma’am, when it was obvious that the team was at risk of injury?” he
asked, an amused smile hovering over his lips.

“Insufferable!” the girl stormed,
coming perilously close to stamping her foot in anger.
 
“I had the team well in hand, and I do not
appreciate your arrogance in thinking you could do better than I can, sir.”

The older woman in grey glanced
over, shaking her head slowly, and continued to composedly cord the trunk in
place, where the groom had set it on the back of the carriage.
 
The groom moved to the head of the team, apparently
deaf to the young woman.
 

Hugh, perplexed and intrigued by
the lovely young woman railing at him, replied, “I had no intention of
assaulting your person, but surely the team was too strong for you to control.”

“I was doing just fine, I thank
you,” she returned icily. Taking a deep breath, the young woman made a valiant
effort to swallow her rage.
 
She wrapped
her arms about herself, shivering slightly in the frigid wind.
 

Hugh could not repress a cynical
smile at this statement, but he relented.
 
“My apologies, ma’am,” he bowed.

She nodded a grudging acceptance of
his apology.
 

“If you are desirous of being of
use, perhaps you would be so good as to tell us how far we are from the village of Thorne, sir,” she snapped after a
moment.

“Certainly,” Hugh replied.
 
“You need only follow this road for another
five miles and you will be there.”
 
He
scrutinized his companion.
 
She was
obviously genteel, her accent was cultured, and her cloak was of excellent cut
and cloth, her boots elegantly fashioned.
 
Hugh had purchased just such a pair of kid gloves as she wore for the
young daughter of an acquaintance and knew they cost every penny of four
pounds.
 
The carriage was a good one, and
the girl was accompanied by a groom and a maid. There was no denying she was a
genteel young beauty, and she had a temper to boot.
 
His interest definitely piqued, Hugh
continued, “Are you visiting someone in the neighborhood?”

Instead of dropping her gaze under
his inspection, the young woman lifted her chin and gave him back his
stare.
 
“I cannot imagine that you are
interested in our actions, sir,” she said repressively.
 

“Why I am always interested in
visitors to this part of the country,” Hugh assured her innocently.

The young woman eyed him with
disfavor.
 
“I am not visiting anyone, sir.
 
I thank you for your assistance, even though
we didn’t really require it.
 
Good-bye.”
 

Her maid
tutted
at her mistress’s rude behavior, but opened the carriage door and stood aside
as the irate young lady climbed in.
 
The
older woman looked at Hugh before she followed suit, and once she was seated in
the vehicle leaned out and said, “I assure, you sir, we are very grateful for
your aid.”

Hugh bowed from the waist, and
watched as the groom climbed onto the box, chirruped to the team, and the
equipage moved down the road an out of sight.

“How very unusual,” he murmured,
climbing back into the saddle.
 
He urged
Rufus into a trot, his feeling of boredom gone.
 
The girl must be staying with someone locally, and he determined to pay
a few morning calls, and find out which one.

“You were very rude to that
gentleman, Miss Sally,”
 

Lady Sarah Denham, Sally to her
friends and family, chuckled unrepentantly.
 
“I was, wasn’t I?” she agreed.
 
“He made me as mad as fire, shoving me out of the way as if I were a sack
of potatoes or something.”

Her long-suffering maid merely
shook her head.
 
“Your temper is exactly
what has gotten us in this situation, Miss, and you might consider trying to
tamp it down a bit.”

Sally nodded contritely.
 
“I know you are right, Millie.”
 
She took her maid’s hand and squeezed it
gently.
 
“I’ll try harder.”
 
She looked out the window at the green
rolling hills they traveled through.
 
They
passed first one small holding and then another and after a few more miles, the
village of Thorne came into view.
 
Following their written directions, the groom
passed through the village, and continued for three more miles until a cross
roads was reached.
 
He swung the carriage
to the left, and after another mile, a sign post indicated a turn-off.
 
The equipage took the turn-off, and at the end
of a long, overgrown carriage way, the groom stopped the team, and jumped down
from the box.
 

Sally could not wait for him, but
threw open the door herself and sprang out.
 
Before her stood a two-story stone cottage with mullioned windows that
reflected
back
the harsh winter sunshine.
 
Sally trod up the path, and pushed against
the heavy wooden door.
 

It swung open easily and
noiselessly, and despite herself Sally laughed.
 
She turned to her maid with her quick smile.
 
“I was expecting it to squeak ominously.
 
How disappointing!”

Her maid shook her head.
 
“On the contrary, Miss Sally, it is
reassuring to find the place in decent repair.”
 

Sally crossed the threshold and
found herself in a dingy hallway.
 
To her
left, there was a small sitting room, furnished simply but quite acceptably.
 
On the right of the hall was a dining room,
and straight back was a door that led to the kitchens.
 
The small hallway also included a staircase
that led to the upper level where, if the renter’s agreement was correct, there
would be chambers for herself and her maid, and a bath chamber.
 
Miles, her groom, would occupy the room off
the kitchen.
 
Sally looked at the sparsely
furnished rooms, and hoped that she had brought everything she would need.
 
The trunks that threatened the balance of the
carriage had been packed perforce surreptitiously, and with no very clear idea
of what the little group of travelers would need.

Sally turned in a slow circle, and
found herself facing the disapproving face of her maid.
 
“Don’t frown, Millie,” she exclaimed
reassuringly, coming forward to pull Millie into the hallway.
 
“This will do very well.”

Millie sniffed, and straightened
her shoulders.
 
“We shall do, Miss,” she agreed
stolidly.
 
“But I can’t help wondering if
you’ve made the right choice.”

“I made the only choice,” Sally
assured her, thinking back over the series of events that had landed her in a
small, rented cottage in the wilds of Scotland.

It had all started on a stormy
night, two months before.
 
Sally had been
spending the fall, along with her parents and the youngest of her brothers at Denham Park,
their principal seat, preparing for the Season, and Sally’s come-out. One
evening, while her parents attended what promised to be a very dull party at a
neighboring house, Sally had cried off and gone instead to visit with her best
friend.
 
On the drive home, the barouche had
come to a lurching stop, almost throwing Sally from her seat.
 

A few moments later her groom, Miles,
pulled the door open.
 
“I’m afraid Beau
has injured his fore-leg, Miss Sally.
 
He
must have stepped into a rabbit-hole or
summat
, but I
swear I never saw a thing until he pulled up lame.”

Sally sprang from the barouche, and
stood watching the groom’s skillful examination of the horse’s leg. A bitter
wind whistled through the trees, whipping the blue kerseymere cloak around her
slim form huddled against the cold.

“I think it’s just a strain, Miss,”
the groom called out, his voice barely audible over the blowing wind.
 
As the horse quieted under the groom’s
skillful handling, the slim girl in the blue cloak stepped forward to place a
calming hand on the steed’s silky neck.

“There, Beau,” she crooned
soothingly, “There’s a good boy.”
 
The
animal, seeming to respond to her voice, turned and lowered his head, pushing a
velvet nose into her side, and a low, musical laugh broke from the girl.

The groom ran expert hands over the
horse’s slim legs, and then heaved a heartfelt sigh.

“I don’t like the feel of this
fetlock, Miss, but nothing is broken.”