A Highland Folly (12 page)

Nothing was going as he had planned when life had seemed so simple and straightforward. An education at Oxford, work that he enjoyed, time in Town for a few flirtations, and then a wife when he had tired of his bachelor's fare. He had managed the first two, but then the pattern for his life had gone awry.

“Don't flatter yourself,” Lucais mumbled to himself. “Anice
wants
you to leave.”

When he glanced down the hill, he saw two forms on the hillside. From where he stood, he could identify them with ease. He watched as Anice laughed at something her cousin Parlan Kinloch must have said.

Lucais watched as Kinloch strode away, heading toward Killiebige. “And seeking to cause more agitation among the malcontents in the village, no doubt.” He grimaced. Talking to himself would gain him nothing but proof that he was mad. And he could not let Potter's distrust of the Scots influence him. He knew how right and how mistaken his assistant was.

He locked his hands behind his back and continued along the ridge. Pretending that Kinloch's troublemaking bothered him foremost was futile. Even more than he wished to curtail the pranks against the road crew, he yearned to convince Anice that she wanted him to kiss more than her fingers.

Dashed woman! She invaded every thought. So perfectly she had fit in his arms when they stood in that cramped barn. The memory of her soft curves taunted him with endless fantasies.

When he stepped onto a narrow path, a familiar bark greeted him, but Pippy did not move from where he sat beside a stone wall. A shadow draped over the dog, and Lucais smiled wryly. He should have guessed that where he could hear the distant clang of a sheep's bell, both the llama and the dog would be found.

Or were they guarding Anice? They never wandered far from her.

The first of the hirsel edged around the corner. Hirsel! It had been a long time since he had heard the Scottish term for a flock of sheep. So many memories were stirring upon his return to Scotland, things he had thought long gone after he had remade his life in England.

Bending, Lucais patted Pippy, but the dog watched the sheep trotting obediently down a path they must have taken many times. Lucais ignored the herd, staring instead at the bend in the road. He did not have to wait long.

Anice paused in mid-step. The sun glittered off Lucais's dark hair and outlined the strong lines of his chest through his thin shirt. With his sleeves rolled up, she could see his brawny arms were warmly bronzed. The sun was eye-wrenchingly bright off his polished boots.

A flutter in her stomach refused to be ignored. When her gaze met the unfettered emotions in his eyes, the soft sensation became a tempest. It soared through her, stripping her of all thought but of touching him.

She took a step toward him and stubbed her toe on a small rock. The throb of pain freed her from the enticement he had spun without a single word. Remembering her task, she waved a bushy branch at the straggling sheep. She held the gate open until the last one entered the field. Only then did she say, “Lucais, I did not expect to see you today.”

He smiled. “I did not expect you kept this many as in-byes.”

She knew that “in-byes” were the sheep kept close to the barn instead of out on the hill. Did he think to impress her with his Scottish cant? She was tempted to tell him that the use of such local words would not persuade the villagers to welcome his project.

She walked through the gate, then closed it behind her before she sat on the wall. She longed to be closer to him but knew that would be foolish. “These are the ewes and their lambs. I'm keeping them here for another week or so because I am concerned with the loose rock up by Dhùin Liath. The blasting might loosen it.”

“Loosen that?” He swung his legs to the other side of the stone fence so he could face her. “If you knew how much gunpowder it took simply to break a few inches through these ledges, you would not worry. The castle will be rubble before this hillside budges.”

“My thoughts exactly, but Parlan has been fretting about this.”

His eyes narrowed when she smiled. He had become too accustomed to Potter's dense brain and sycophantic agreeing with whatever he said. “Your cousin would be very happy to have me concentrate on things other than the road and bridge.”

Anice's light expression vanished. “Parlan has strong opinions.”

“You should advise him to watch his step when he is out late at night.”

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

“You don't?” He laughed, but there was more sarcasm than good humor in the sound. Putting his foot on the wall next to where she was sitting, he leaned toward her.

“I can see that you have not improved your manners,” she replied. “You still think you can order me around like one of your navvies.”

“I don't want to order you to do anything. Well, that may not be the truth. There are a few things I would like to suggest to you. But just now I would like to have a civilized conversation with you.”

Anice folded her arms in front of her and glared. “Civilized? How do you expect us to have a decent conversation if you resort to insults?”

His voice remained serene. “It should not be considered an insult to ask you to warn your cousin to be careful.”

“You said that before.” Anice searched Lucais's face. His hooded eyes hid everything but the intensity lowering his brows. “Will you explain?”

“It is simple. If Parlan Kinloch has been taking late night walks, he may be wandering into trouble.”

“You should not accuse him when you do not have any proof.” She tried to stand, but he stubbornly refused to move aside.

“I have seen all the damage done to my camp. Tools broken, barrels overturned, foodstuffs dragged through the dirt.”

“And you blame Parlan?”

“Would you rather I blame your beau Sir Busby?”

“Beau? Lucais, I do not know where you get your odd ideas.”

“Mayhap from seeing you all soft around him when you act as if you could catch the plague from my touch.” When a flush abruptly darkened his tan, he turned and walked away.

She stared after him in amazement, knowing he had not meant to give voice to
that
opinion. She should be furious at him. How had he come to this conclusion? She had barely said a score of words to Sir Busby since the meeting at Reverend Dole's house.

She called, “Lucais, wait!”

She was unsure if he would stop, but he paused and looked at her. Rising, she walked slowly to where he stood. Pippy followed, a low growl in his throat. Did the dog sense an anger in Lucais that she was missing? Searching his face, she recalled how her third stepfather, Boris, had become florid with rage. She looked up into Lucais's eyes. He was not furious, just sorry that he had spoken the words that could not be unsaid, the words that revealed too clearly the craving both of them fought to ignore. Yet, each time their gazes met, the truth was visible.

“Do you really believe Parlan is involved in the damage to the road camp?” she asked.

His brows lowered. “Tell him and your good friend Sir Busby not to get involved in night sport that can cause real trouble.”

“Lucais, I told you that Sir Busby and I are not—” When he grinned, she wished she had let him walk away.

A finger under her chin tipped her face up toward his. Undisguised passion burned in his dark eyes. He was not jealous of just Sir Busby, but of any man who might touch her as he longed to do.

As she longed for him to do.

“Anice,” he said, his voice still taut, “you and Sir Busby
are
good friends. Are you his ally as well?”

“You think,” she whispered, too shocked to speak more loudly, “that I have been part of the pranks against the road crews?” A low growl came from Pippy, but she paid the dog no attention. She pulled away from Lucais. “You are as much of a leatherhead as whoever has been causing the trouble. I give up trying to disabuse you of your assumptions.”

“Anice, discuss this with your cousin and the baronet.” He caught her shoulders but did not pull her to him. “Think with your head instead of with your heart. You must soothe the tempers around Killiebige before they erupt.”

“Me?” She laughed, but the sound was hollow. “You were the one who disrupted the meeting at Reverend Dole's house.”

“Before they could vote on what it was rumored they would do.”

“Rumored? What rumor?”

Lucais's strong hands gently framed her face. “Sweet innocent, I know you care about keeping the beauty of the Abhainn an Uruisg unspoiled by the bridge. But you don't know what Parlan Kinloch and Sir Busby and their comrades have been discussing over a few pints. They brag about how they will run the road crew out of the valley. You know what that would mean.”

“That the bridge would be delayed?” Jerking away, she put her hand on Pippy's head as the dog whined again, low and deep in his throat.

“No, 'tis more than that.” His face was as hard as the stones in the wall. “Haven't you heard of the disaster on the Dee near Potarch? The lumbermen there threatened to crash logs into the supports of the bridge being built, and they were fined hundreds of pounds. Who could afford such fines in Killiebige?”

“Why do you care?”

His hands slipped along her shoulders as his voice became softer. “Anice, I don't want anything to happen to you.”

Closing her eyes, she savored his fingers brushing her cheeks. A luscious fire burned through her. Suddenly she gasped and pulled away as Pippy's growl became a sharp bark. Whirling, she saw sheep pouring through the gate that now was open.

“Bonito!” she cried. “Pippy, get the sheep.” She rushed to help the dog shoo the sheep back into the pen. Hearing another shout, she saw Lucais waving his hands to herd the sheep toward her.

She started laughing at his wild antics to contain the sheep that were trying to flee up the hill. “Thank you,” she said as he shoved the last bleating sheep back through the gate and shut it with a clang.

“You need to check the latch on this gate. It is rusty, which is why it did not catch. If you had not lingered here, you would have been chasing sheep from all over the hill.”

“So I guess I owe you a thank-you as well for your scolds. Thank you.” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek.

Too late—as his eyes widened—did she realize how unthinking she had been. Such a chaste salute was not what he wanted. Why had she let her own longing tempt both of them to savor far more?

“Anice …” Raw need scraped through his voice.

She whirled, running toward the walls of Ardkinloch. She never had run away from anyone in her life, but she had never been so unnerved by anything as she was by her desire to be in his arms. Lucais MacFarlane offered her everything her heart longed for … mayhap. In so many ways he was a stranger, but she knew he hated this place where she had finally found a home. It would be folly to think of falling in love with a man who hated the Highlands she loved.

She could not deny it any longer. She was a fool.

“Don't I deserve the chance to find a husband who will give me what I want?” Neilli complained as she stretched across Anice's bed. “It is not as if I want anything much.”

“Just a husband with a title.” Anice put down the book she had been reading before Neilli came in. It was clear that she would not enjoy any more of it until she listened to Neilli's latest request to join the Season that must be coming soon to an end.

“Who has his dirty acres in Scotland.” With a laugh, she tugged a pillow against her and smiled up at Anice. “Once we are in London, I shall find one posthaste. Then we can all come back here and enjoy the rest of our lives together. I will have my husband, and you will not have me bothering you on this endlessly.”

“Save,” Anice replied, “to find your brother a wife with much the same qualifications.”

“That would be nice.” Neilli frowned. “Although I doubt if Parlan has much interest in a wife just now.”

“Why do you say that?” She fought to keep her voice even. Lucais's questions about her cousin kept rumbling through her head like the threat of distant thunder.

“He has been out courting.”

“Who?”

Neilli shrugged. “I have no idea, but he seems to be calling on her every night. Clearly he cares more for her than he does for me.”

“Mayhap he has fallen in love.”

“That would be just like him. Falling in love when I have no one.” Plumping the pillow under herself, she sighed. “He may be willing to settle for a match here in the glen, but I am not. It is a true shame that the Kinlochs and Lord Chesterburgh's family have been antagonizing each other for so many years. I would not mind being a marquess's wife.”

“The present marquess does not have a wife?”

“He does.” Her lips twisted. “And he must be as old as Mam. Mayhap older. So now you see why I must go to London without a delay.”

Anice set her book on a nearby table as she rose. “Neilli, you know it is impossible for me to leave when everyone is so distressed by the road project.”

“The road project!” Sitting up, Neilli scowled. “That is all you and Parlan ever speak of. You would think that is of greater importance than my future.”

“It affects the whole glen.”

“So will my marriage. And yours. You must think of making a match for yourself.”

“I have too many other things to think about just now.”

Neilli's scowl deepened, drawing lines into her face. “Too many? Or just one? I would wager a crown that Lucais MacFarlane is on your mind now when you should be thinking of my future.”

“He is in charge of the bridge construction and—”

“You know your thoughts have nothing to do with the damage he is doing to our glen. If Grandmam were alive, she would not let him woo her away from doing what she believed was right.”