Sleepless in Scotland (24 page)

“I’ll have Mrs. Wallis pack up some bandages, too. I’ve a feeling something’s amiss.”

“Aye, m’lord. When do ye wish to leave?”

“After my ride with the girls. They are due in an hour.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

Hugh also wanted to say a proper good-bye to his wife. He looked forward to that in many ways.

He patted Sheba’s nose. It was a shame Caitriona didn’t know how to ride. He’d offered to teach her, but she’d stalled, saying she might like that one day. Though she hadn’t said no outright, he’d heard it in her voice. He wasn’t a man to get upset over nothing, but her lack of interest disappointed him much more than it should have.

He was beginning to grow irritated with himself. He was perfectly free to ride when he wished, work with the horses when he wished, take his daughters for rides when he wished. Except for their morning bouts between the sheets, Caitriona made few demands of him and seemed perfectly content without him throughout the day.

He scowled. That should be what he wanted. Hell, he’d basically told her that. Yet he found himself distracted by thoughts of her, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking, if she was content—and why she hadn’t allowed him to teach her to ride, damn it.

He’d never met a woman who was so elusive. Even when she agreed with him and did as he requested, he felt thwarted in some way. But while she might be withholding herself in some areas of their life, she never denied him in bed. Her passion and enthusiasm there was entrancing.

Every morning, he woke up to find her curled next to him, her long hair silky on his shoulder, her soft breathing almost mesmerizing. And every morning, he made sure she knew he was there as well, usually in a very lascivious manner. She responded to him with such glowing, natural passion, welcoming him every time and with such breathless urgency, that he was often left in astounded wonder. Even more interesting, she was learning from each encounter. Just this morning, it had been she who’d started their lusty beginning of the day.

The memory made him instantly hard, and he was glad his long riding coat covered his reaction. He couldn’t help it. Just the thought of her, of her expression as she shivered beneath him, her legs tight on his hips as she—

“M’lord?”

Hugh jerked around.

Ferguson was frowning at him, a look of concern on his broad face.

Hugh managed to say with credible calm, “Yes, Ferguson? I was just thinking of the supplies we’ll need for Satin.”

“Aye, m’lord.” There was a note of disbelief in Ferguson’s voice.

Hugh quickly continued, “We’ll need oats, bandages, and that tonic you used on Hariam’s fetlock.”

“Och, I’d forgotten that! There’s a mite left.”

“Let’s return to the stables and pack what we can before the girls arrive.”

“Aye, m’lord.” Ferguson emptied the last of the oats from his bucket, then followed Hugh back to the stables.

The stables were as well built as Gilmerton Manor. Hugh had personally overseen their construction and was as proud of them as of the house. The stables held forty separate stalls, three tack rooms, two large stalls for birthing and treating serious ailments, and room overhead to store a year’s worth of hay for the entire herd.

Hugh threw open the door of the main tack room and entered, assailed by the scent of leather and sweet oats mixed with the tang of iron. Along one wall ran a series of shelves. He found the tonic and turned to come back into the stables.

“Ferguson!” Caitriona’s voice sounded clearly through the barn. “There you are. I was hoping we coul—”

“Shhhh!” Ferguson’s hiss made Hugh stop in his tracks.

“What?” Caitriona asked.

What, indeed?
Hugh, hidden by the tack room door, bent to one side and peered out through the hinge crack.

Her hair in a bun, her spectacles perched on her nose, Triona stood in front of Ferguson. The groom was wildly gesturing for her to be quiet, pantomiming toward the tack room.

Caitriona glanced there and back, her gaze widening. “Oh,” her lips formed. She nodded and pointed to a small watch pinned to her pocket, held up one finger, then pointed toward the first stall door.

Ferguson sent a nervous glance toward the tack room and shook his head.

Triona’s expression fell, but she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Ferguson nodded even as he gestured for Caitriona to leave quickly.

She turned, wincing as she did so.

Hugh frowned, suddenly remembering that she’d winced this morning, too, when he’d slid between her thighs and lifted her leg to his hip. He’d asked her if she was well, and she’d said she was just a bit sore from climbing so many steps.

Hmmm. Hugh stepped out of the tack room and came to stand beside Ferguson.

“Och, there ye are, m’lord. I see ye found the tonic. I’ll pack up some rags and—”

“That first stall, isn’t it where we keep Bluebell?”

Ferguson’s expression froze.

Hugh walked toward the stall and looked over the door. A smallish mare stood quietly snoozing. “Aggie rode her when she was first learning to ride.”

Ferguson stood as if rooted to the floor.

“And there’s a saddle on the rail, as if it just came off her.”

“Aye, but that saddle’s been there a whole day, m’lord. Besides, I canna remember every person who rides.”

“You can remember this one. I’m sure of it.” Hugh crossed to lift one of the stirrups. “I’d say this was rigged for a rider about…oh”—he held out his hand a little below his shoulder—“this tall.” He dropped the stirrup. “Now, who do we know who is this tall?”

Ferguson closed his eyes.

Hugh leaned an elbow on the stall door. “Ferguson, you are teaching my wife to ride.”

Ferguson laughed nervously. “The ideas ye get, m’lord!”

Hugh lifted his brows.

Ferguson’s shoulders slumped. “Och, I dinna want to do it, but she was desperate, wishin’ to learn! I tried, but I couldna tell her no.”

“I should be the one to teach her, not you.”

“And so I told her, m’lord! But she said she dinna dare learn in front o’ ye and the lasses, fer ’twould be too embarrassing.”

Hugh frowned. Embarrassing?

Ferguson sent Hugh an apologetic glance. “She’s taken a few spills, she has.”

“Was she hurt?”

“Nay! She took some good uns the first few days, but she’s riding better now. She’s showin’ a good deal o’ promise.”

“How long has she been practicing?”

“’Tis six days or more.” Ferguson nodded eagerly. “Och, she’s as pretty a seat as ye can imagine. She’s a hard worker, m’lord. She rode fer two hours yesterday! I moved her from Bluebell onto Old Winston, and he’s a stubborn one.”

“How did she do with him?”

“Nary a falter. ‘Keep ’is head up,’ I said, and she did. Just like tha’.”

No wonder she’d winced when he’d lifted her leg. Her thighs must have ached.

“I hope ye don’t mind, m’lord, but I think she did it to impress ye.”

“To impress me?”

“Aye. She said once she was good enough, she was goin’ to surprise ye.”

Hugh scowled. “She didn’t need to worry about being good enough. I would never mock her.”

“Nay, but—” Ferguson bit his lip.

“But what?”

“I dinna mean to be disrespectin’, m’lord, but ye canna be so certain o’ the lassies. They ride better than most men, they do. And they don’t seem too fond o’ their new mum.”

“What makes you say that?”

Ferguson’s face turned a deeper red. “Nothin’! I’m sure I’m just imaginin’ things. They just—I heard the lassies sayin’—Och, don’t ask me to say more.”

“What did you hear?”

Ferguson sighed. “I heard Miss Devon say tha’ if greasin’ the steps would get rid o’ the new mistress faster, she’d grease every one herself.”

Hugh’s shoulders felt like a millstone had settled on them. Was this the result of his request that Caitriona keep her distance? Had they come to despise and disrespect her because of his edict?

Damnation! Hugh handed the bottle of tonic to the groom. “Pack for the trip. I will be back in thirty minutes and we’ll leave then.”

“But ye haven’t taken the lassies fer their daily—”

Hugh walked out of the stables and strode toward the house.

Damn it, she should have asked
him
to teach her to ride! He would never have mocked her and he damn well wouldn’t have allowed the girls to do so, either.

He entered the house and saw Liam. “Where’s the mistress?”

“She asked fer a hot bath, m’lord. Angus and I just carried it to her room, and she said she was goin’ to soak in it till lunch.”

Hugh’s gaze narrowed. “Has she been requesting a lot of hot baths this week?”

“Every day, m’lord. Says they make her aches disappear.”

Hugh nodded and headed toward the stairs, pausing when he heard the girls’ voices in the sitting room. He walked to the door and stopped, one hand on the knob.

He heard Devon giggle. “She’s taking yet
another
bath!”

“No wonder,” Christina said, her voice alight with amusement. “She has to be black and blue. Did you see her land in that mud puddle this morning?”

“She splashed!” Aggie was giggling so hard Hugh could barely understand her.

“Yes,” Devon said, obviously brimming with delight. “I wish I could paint a picture of her there, with mud in her hair and—”

His jaw hard, Hugh threw open the door.

Three startled faces turned toward him. The girls were pictures of perfect horsewomen, dressed in matching habits of varying colors, tall hats perched on their heads, their hair braided and neat. Their feet were shod in comfortable riding boots of the finest cut. He couldn’t help but feel proud of them, and he had to deliberately remind himself of his purpose in coming here. One lesson this past year had taught him was that as sweet as the girls looked, they had their own measure of willful independence and weren’t above breaking the rules now and then.

“Papa!” Her face bright, Devon jumped to her feet. “If you wish to leave early, we’re ready to go now.”

Christina nodded, putting aside her book of fashion plates. “We were just waiting for you. Shall we come?”

He walked farther into the room, eying them one by one.

Their smiles faded.

“Papa,” Christina asked, “wh—what is wrong?”

Hugh crossed his arms. “I heard you talking through the door.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. Christina’s cheeks turned red and Aggie’s head drooped, but Devon didn’t flinch.

She lifted her chin. “So? We said nothing wrong. We were talking about how Caitriona was trying to ride but can’t.” She smiled. “A bear would ride a horse better.”

Hugh turned his gaze on his middle daughter. “What did you say?”

Devon smirked. “I said she’s
trying
to ride. We saw her this morning from the window.”

Aggie’s grin revealed her missing tooth. “She fell, too. Four times.”

Hugh took a deep breath. “She fell off her horse, and you all found that funny.”

Christina nodded, smiling uncertainly. “It was quite funny to see her…” Her voice trailed off when Hugh looked at her.

“You all seem very pleased by this.”

Devon jutted her chin. “We are, for she’s been quite mean to us this past week!” Devon’s hands fisted at her sides. “That—that
woman
put honey in our pillows!”

“What?”

Aggie nodded. “We had to take an extra bath to get it out.”

“She also turned the sheets on our beds sideways!” Devon continued in a hard voice

He frowned. “To what purpose?”

“So that when we went to bed, our feet stuck out the end. We had to remake the beds.”

“And it was cold, too,” Aggie added.

Christina remained suspiciously silent.

“I find it hard to believe Caitriona would ever do those things.”

“She did,” Devon said, visibly outraged. “And this morning, when we put on our pantaloons, we discovered that she’d sewn all of the legs together! I almost ripped mine, before I realized what was wrong with them.”

Hugh looked from Devon’s outraged face to Aggie’s sulky one and then to Christina, who was looking down at her hands in her lap. “Christina?”

She peeked at him, her cheeks pink. “Yes, Papa?”

“Why would Caitriona do these things? None of them are harmful, but they certainly smack of revenge.”

Christina swallowed with difficulty. “It’s…it’s because of something we did.” Devon hissed, but Christina continued doggedly, “We told Caitriona you liked carrots.”

Silence filled the room as Hugh took this in. So Caitriona had been duped—and rather than come to him, she’d decided to handle things her own way. Though his disappointment with his daughters was strong, he had a sudden urge to grin. “And you thought I’d be angry with her over the carrots.”

Christina nodded. “Or at least not trust her cooking. Papa, I-I’m very sorry we did that.”

“I’m not,” Devon said, sniffing. “She’s not welcome here, and the sooner she leaves, the better we’ll all like it.”

Hugh’s heart was heavy in his chest. Now he knew why Caitriona had decided to learn to ride without his knowledge. And the reason was of his own making. “Come here, all of you.”

Devon’s brows lowered. “But—”

“On the settee.
Now.
”

They sat, Devon arriving last.

“I am going to say this but once: Caitriona is not your mother, but she
is
my wife and you will treat her with
every
politeness. Is that clear?”

“Yes, but—” Devon began.

“There are
no
‘buts.’ You will show her the same respect and politeness you show your aunt Sophia, only more so.”

Christina and Aggie slowly nodded, but Devon crossed her arms over her chest.

“Devon, have I not made myself clear?”

Her mouth in a mutinous line, she finally nodded.

“I will hear no more of this mockery. Christina, when you came here you’d never ridden before, and you fell more times than I can count. And you, Aggie, have only been off leading strings for four months. I remember some of your more spectacular falls as well.”