Sleepless in Scotland (23 page)

Mam beamed. “That’s me girl!”

“Thank you.”

“And then? Wha’ about ye, lass? Ye canna give wit’out receivin’. What will ye ask in return?”

She thought about this. Finally, she said, “The right to decide for myself when the time has come for me to go.”

“Tha’s me granddaughter! Don’t ye worry about MacLean: no man can stand alone fer long. ’Tis no’ in their nature.” Mam enveloped Triona in a hug that smelled of powder and lavender. “Just make sure ye visit me often. I might ha’ a few questions fer ye myself. I’ve been wonderin’ about the MacLeans, and now me granddaughter is wed to one! Who’d ha’ thought.”

“Who’d have thought, indeed.” Triona smiled as Mrs. Wallis brought in a plate of scones and a pot of hot tea. “Mrs. Wallis, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Nora H—”

“Och,” Mam interrupted, her gaze fixed on the housekeeper. “So ye’re the one who’s responsible fer the dust on the windowsills!”

Mrs. Wallis gulped and scurried to the closest window where she drew her finger across the smooth surface. Whatever she saw made her redden. “Why that lazy—” She bit off the sentence and turned to Mam and curtsied. “I’ll send the girl to finish up her chores right away.”

Triona wished Mam didn’t try to fix
everything
. “Thank you, Mrs. Wallis. Also, for tonight, will you tell Cook that I’ll be preparing dinner this evening?”

“You, m’ lady?”

Mam scowled. “She’s a good cook, she is. All of me granddaughters are.”

Mrs. Wallis dunked a curtsey. “Sorry! I dinna mean to suggest—Of course I’ll let Cook know she can have the night off. She’ll be glad o’ the chance to visit her sister.”

For the first time in a week, Triona felt as if she knew who she was and what she should do. With a smile, she filled Mam’s teacup.

Big wars were won with small battles, and she’d start hers with the best cottage pie Hugh MacLean had ever eaten.

Hugh handed his coat to Liam. “Where is Lady Caitriona?”

“I think she’s a-gettin’ ready fer dinner, as are the girls, m’lord.”

Hugh nodded and made his way up the stairs. He’d just reached the landing when he met the girls, dressed for dinner and dashing to the dining room. Their sashes were half-tied, their hair ribbons askew. “Hold it!” he ordered.

They skidded to a halt. Devon shoved her hair from her face and frowned. “Yes?”

Behind her, Christina was trying to tie her sash behind her back, her elbows sticking out, while Aggie hopped on one foot and adjusted her stockings.

“Where are you going?”

Christina finished tying her sash. “Down to dinner.”

He glanced at the clock on the landing. “Early?”

Devon frowned. “You told us not to be late again.”

“I’ve told you that a few times, but I’ve never seen you come down
early
.”

“We’re just excited,” Aggie said.

Devon shot her a hard glance and the younger girl turned pink.

“Not excited, really,” Aggie amended. “Just hungry.”

“That’s right,” Christina said. “We’re starving. We did ride with you for over two hours this afternoon.”

“
And
played with the new foals,” Devon added.

He eyed them again. Something was going on, but the three gazes that met his told him nothing. He stepped aside. “Go ahead, then. But have yourselves put together by the time dinner is served.”

“Yes, Papa!” They were gone in a flash, their slippers pounding down the stairs.

Hugh smiled as he went to his bedchamber. There was plenty of time for ladylike behavior later, when they were older. It was good that they were relaxing so much.

He opened his door and looked around, but the bedchamber was silent. Every time he’d come home for the last week, Caitriona had been here, dressing for dinner. He was surprised at the sudden rush of disappointment that had swept over him on realizing she wasn’t here.

Damn it, he was getting spoiled. Still, as he washed and changed for dinner, he wondered where she was. He wasted no time in getting ready, and soon headed down the stairs.

As he entered the dining room, he heard Devon say, “It won’t be my fault! I’m not the one who thinks she can just walk in and—” She caught sight of Hugh and stopped.

Christina and Aggie had an unmistakable air of guilt.

Hugh crossed to where his children stood and gazed at each one, saving Devon for last. “What won’t be your fault?”

Devon’s cheeks pinkened, but she tilted her chin. “I was saying—”

Caitriona walked in, Liam and Angus following. Both footmen carried large trays, and they began to place dishes on the table.

Hugh watched Caitriona as she greeted the girls and took her place at the opposite end of the table from him. She was dressed in another new gown, this one light yellow and very simple. On another woman such a gown might have appeared plain, but hugging Caitriona’s generous curves, it was gorgeous.

Liam removed the covers from the dishes.

“Ah!” Hugh said, grinning. “Cottage pie. My favorite.”

“Miss Caitriona made it,” Aggie piped up.

Hugh looked at the thick pie, inhaling the savory steam rising from it. “You
made
this?”

Her cheeks flushed and she gave a pleased smile. “Caitlyn may be the seamstress in our family, but I am the cook. I already knew the recipe and I made sure to add c—”

“Papa!” Devon said. “Please tell Aggie to stop kicking me under the table.”

Aggie’s eyes widened. “Kicking you? I can’t even
reach
you from here!”

“Both of you stop it.” Hugh helped himself to a large amount of pie, the rich scent making his mouth water. As soon as he placed the first bite in his mouth, he closed his eyes and relished the savory flavor.

“This is wonderful!” Christina’s voice broke through his reverie and he opened his eyes to find the girls looking at their plates, surprise and awe in their expressions.

Catching his gaze, Caitriona lifted her brows, a small smile curving her lips.

He smiled back, and they shared the moment over the girls’ heads.

Aggie chuckled. “Miss Caitriona fixed everything else, too, for she gave Cook the night off. Cook’s not really visiting her sister, though. She’s in the village drinking gin.”

Devon frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Moira told me when she was cleaning the fireplace in our room.”

“You shouldn’t gossip with the maid,” Christina said softly.

“Especially Moira.” Caitriona smiled. “She told me yesterday that she saw a troll climbing out of a cart by the kitchen door, but later she discovered it was only Ferguson.”

“Ha,” Devon scoffed. “Moira only said that because she likes him, but he won’t have anything to do with her.”

Hugh noticed the hesitant smile Christina flashed Caitriona, misgiving beginning to bloom. She’d been keeping her distance as she’d promised, but the girls seemed to be warming to her anyway.

He frowned. Should he put a stop to it?
Could
he?

“Here, Papa.” Devon took his plate and served him more pie. “There’s only more for one person, so you might as well eat it.”

As he did so, Hugh tried to shrug off a faint itch between his shoulders. Perhaps he’d talk to Caitriona about the girls tonight.

“Papa, are you…are you angry about something?” Aggie asked.

Hugh rubbed his arm. “No, why?”

“You look red.”

He lifted his shoulder, a nagging itch on one shoulder blade. “I don’t—”

“Hugh!” Caitriona’s gaze was fixed on his face. “Aggie’s right—you’re turning bright red!”

He rubbed his hand over his face, where a solid itch seemed to spread. Good God, what was wrong? It felt as if a hundred ants were crawling over him. His lips felt swollen, too.

His gaze fell on his empty plate. “Caitriona—the cottage pie. Were there carrots in it?”

“Why, of course! I—” Her gaze flickered to Devon, who was busy eating.

“Damnation!” He sprang from his chair, rubbing his neck and one shoulder at the same time. “I can’t eat carrots. They make me break out in a rash.” He turned toward the door. “Liam! Bring a cold bath to my room immediately!”

Christina watched as her father disappeared out the door. Already his face looked splotched, and his mouth was swollen. She saw Liam race to the kitchen, Angus following.

“Well.”

Christina peeked at Caitriona and then wished she hadn’t.

Caitriona pinned her blazing gaze on all three of them. “I know it can’t be truly dangerous, or you all wouldn’t have suggested I add carrots. You care too much for your father to harm him.”

Christina lowered her fork, awash in unexpected guilt. “He will be fine.”

Devon tasted her bread pudding. “He’ll itch for a few hours, but he’ll be fine in the morning.” She smirked. “But I don’t suppose he’ll want you to cook again.”

Christina sneaked another look at Caitriona, expecting fury. Instead, Caitriona merely regarded Devon with a long, level gaze.

Christina gripped her fork tighter, her chest tightening. While she agreed with Devon that something must be done to protect Papa from the woman who’d tricked him into marrying, there were dangers in upsetting an adult. Christina knew this fact all too well.

“I see how it is.” Caitriona stood, and her hazel eyes seemed greener than ever. “Well, ladies, you leave me no choice.”

Aggie blinked, but said nothing.

Christina put down her fork, her heart beating wildly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t appreciate being made a fool of, but I must admit your little plot was masterfully done.” Her lips curved into a faint smile. “The problem is, I come from a large family.”

Devon glanced at Christina before looking back at Caitriona. “So?”

Caitriona placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “So if I were you, for the next week or so, I’d walk very, very softly.”

When Caitriona swept from the room, Christina felt like they’d started a fight they were sure to lose.

Devon was more nonchalant. “What can she do to us?”

Aggie bit her lip. “She could put snakes in our beds.”

“That’s for children,” Devon scoffed. “She won’t dare do anything, or we’ll tell Papa.”

Christina remembered the gleam in Caitriona’s eyes and wasn’t so sure. One thing was certain, she wasn’t going to climb into her bed without checking for snakes, spiders, and ants.
What have we started?

Chapter 14

“When I was a wee lass, e’ery mornin’ I would carry water all the way from the well at the bottom of the hill to our stone hut at the top. While carryin’ tha’ water, I learned tha’ be there one step or twenty, ye can only take ’em one at a time.”

O
LD
W
OMAN
N
ORA TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ON A COLD WINTER’S NIGHT

S
atin dinna come back.” Ferguson sounded worried.

Hugh looked at the golden horses gathered about the fence and frowned. “You think she’s had her foal?”

“If she did, she’s early. Could be a problem.”

Hugh patted a stallion named Kashmir, admiring the golden glisten of the sun on the horse’s shoulders. Of all the breeds Hugh raised, he had a soft spot for his Akhal-Tekes. He loved that their hides had a slightly metallic sheen and how their almond-shaped eyes showed their spirit and intelligence. He also admired their athleticism. Their sloping shoulders and thin skin reminded him of greyhounds, all muscle and fast action with incredible endurance.

Sheba, a palomino mare, shoved past the much larger Kashmir for a pat on the shoulder. If any other horse had been so bold, Kashmir would have nipped at it. But he and Sheba had a long-standing relationship, so all he did was whinny his annoyance and give her a playful nudge.

Sheba bared her teeth, then turned contentedly back to Hugh.

Hugh laughed and gave her a fond pat. “Kashmir lets Sheba get away with murder.”

“I dinna blame him; she’s been his faithful consort fer years. She’s had seven o’ his colts and will likely have more.”

Hugh noticed that Sheba looked over her shoulder as if to make certain Kashmir was still there. She might have wanted the stallion’s place at the fence, but she didn’t want him to leave.

Hugh could understand that double-edged sword—to want someone nearby and yet wish them elsewhere. He’d been fighting the same double dose of desire himself, and over the last two weeks it had grown stronger.

He absently rubbed his chin, where an itch still lingered from the carrots in the cottage pie. It had been two days before the rash finally faded, though he still itched now, a whole week later, as if in remembrance. Caitriona had appeared so shocked and had been so concerned for him afterward, he knew it for the innocent mistake it was. Yet he couldn’t help thinking that there was more to it. At breakfast each morning since, the tension between Caitriona and the girls was almost palpable.
Something
was going on between them, though none of them would admit it.

He’d speak with the girls when he returned home. So far, whenever he questioned Caitriona, she’d given him a brief, firm smile and changed the topic.

“I hope Satin’s foal is healthy,” Ferguson said. “She’s a good mum when all’s said and done.”

Hugh patted Sheba’s neck. If the foal was healthy, it might be an excellent gift for Caitriona.

Ferguson stroked the nose of a little mare named Desert Flower. “Might be best if I saddle up and follow the herd. They usually stay at the end of Duncannon Glen, so I might find Satin there. She’d want to be in their home pastures fer foalin’.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll go with you. If we find her, we may need to stay with her until she’s ready to move. There’s a crofter’s hut nearby if we need to stay the night.”

“Aye, though we may have to stay longer if she’s no’ strong enough to travel. I’ll pack supplies fer three days.”