A Highland Folly (7 page)

Only problem? She sighed, but she recalled her mother's advice that had gotten them through many rough times. There always was a way out of any quandary. All one needed to do was find it.

Lucais looked up when the canvas door of his tent was pushed aside. Hearing a lyrical voice thanking someone, he came to his feet and let the plans he had been reviewing roll closed with a snap. He smiled as Anice stepped in.

Although she was dressed in a simple white gown with a lacy shawl over her shoulders, he thought of how charming she had looked in her loose shirt and trousers. He might have thought she was a lad, but when he had held her in his arms, those delightful curves had shown him how mistaken first impressions could be.

“Do come in,” he said.

“Thank you.” She looked around, not hiding her amazement.

He clasped his hands behind his waistcoat, knowing quite well what she saw. A small table was set in the middle of the boards that made up the uneven floor. With a trunk and a narrow cot, there was barely room for a pitcher and ewer. He was not going to apologize for the rough conditions here. Not when he exulted in this chance to live right among the navvies who would be building the road. To him, this simple tent was a better place to live than his family's house.

“Oh,” she breathed, “this is grand.”

“Grand?”

“It reminds me of a bedouin's tent that we lived in while my second stepfather was studying ancient ruins in the East.”

“You lived in a tent?” He wondered what else this astonishing woman could say that would attempt to render him speechless.

“Only for a year or so.” Laughing, she drew off her gloves. “It seemed prodigiously large to me as a child, but it probably was not as big as a bee's knee. Not that it mattered, for I was seldom inside. My mother despaired of keeping me from burning as red as a soldier's coat in that desert.”

“This is
my
home at the moment.” He gestured to the wobbly table. “Would you like to sit and join me for a bit of tea?”

“You have a stove here? You're jesting.”

“Only partly. This is my home just now. The stove is out behind the tent, which makes for interesting cooking on nights like yesterday's, when the mist threatened to smother any fire I might start.” He chuckled. “I would gladly offer you a chair if I had one.”

“You have no place to sit?”

“I sit on the bed, but I doubt you would find that acceptable.”

“Your doubts are quite correct.” She rubbed her hands together, then grimaced.

“Your hand still hurts?”

“It has not been long, Lucais. All things heal at their own pace.”

“You sound as if you have said that often.”

“It has been said to me often. Mother often despaired of me having no patience.”

Knowing he might be probing in too personal a direction, he asked, “What happened to your mother?”

“She and my most recent stepfather died in South America.”

“Where you obtained your peculiar pet, Bonito?”

“Yes, I received Bonito as a gift from my stepfather just weeks before they were killed.” Tears filled her eyes, but her chin remained high. “They were exploring some ruins, and they never returned. Apparently there were traps within the ruins to keep out trespassers.”

“I am so sorry, Anice.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed roughly. “Let me deliver my message, and I shall be on my way. I see you are working on plans for the road.”

His smile dimmed. “Are you here to tell me, too, how wrong it is to build the road here?”

“Is that what you think?” Anice shook her head, wondering how the conversation could have twisted in so many directions with just a few words. “I had thought you were more astute than those folks who swallow whole every clanker they hear.”

“Like the one rumbling through Killiebige that you saved me from death up on the hill?”

“You know about that?”

“Not everyone in Killiebige is averse to the idea of building a bridge here, although most of the village leaders were part of the meeting you attended last night. There are a few people in the village who keep me informed of the
on-dits
flitting from lips to lips.” His smile returned, but with such little warmth she feared his expression would freeze her. “You need not look so amazed, Anice.”

“I am not. If I were amid folks who wished me ill, I would keep my eyes and ears open. And you would be very wise to keep yours open at all times.”

He chuckled. “I believe I owe you another apology.”

“No, it is not necessary. I came here simply to warn you about the disquiet in Killiebige.” Whatever else she might have added went unsaid when he caught her hand between his.

“I know of that, Anice. But do you know of the disquiet you cause within me when you are near? A disquiet that is like a slow-growing rumble that echoes within me until I think only of touching you.”

“You should not speak so.”

“Then I shall not speak.” Gently he stroked her hand as he curled her fingers over his broader ones. Lifting her fingers to his lips, he held her gaze as he brushed them with a swift kiss. Her fingers tightened on his as she was sure her heart had been pierced with a bolt of splendid delight. His expressive mouth tilted in a heated smile when he kissed one finger, then the next.

Her feet led her closer. Tipping her hand, he drew one finger down. He bent and slid his tongue along it. She could not silence her gasp of incredulity at the sensations that were drawing her to him, urging her to share this pleasure with him.

When his other hand cupped her chin, she knew the danger she was inciting by not pulling away. She pushed that thought away as he drew her up against him. His thumb caressed her palm as his other one coursed along her jaw. The rough texture of his skin was a sweet caress, grazing her cheek with warmth.

He breathed her name as he tilted her mouth toward his. She started to close her eyes, but halted when she saw his narrow.

“Yes?” he said, his tone abruptly razor-sharp.

Turning, Anice almost moaned in dismay. A short man who was as solidly built as the mountains around Killiebige was standing in the doorway of the tent. How could she have forgotten herself in Lucais's touch? This was certain to cause all sorts of problems, for Sir Busby and the others would believe she was letting Lucais seduce her into accepting the road project.

“Forgive me, Mr. MacFarlane.” The man continued to stare at her.

Lucais cleared his throat, then said, “Lady Kinloch, this is my assistant, Tilden Potter.”

“My lady,” the husky man said, dipping his head slightly toward her. He looked back at Lucais. “I need to speak to you, Mr. MacFarlane. Now.”

“What is wrong?” Lucais asked, although from Potter's expression, he knew. Things had been missing or found broken around the road camp in recent days.

Potter glanced again at Anice, then muttered, “It will wait.”

Anice took a step toward the door. “I shall leave you to your business. I said all I came to say.”

“Wait!” The word burst from Lucais's lips before he had a chance to halt it.

She turned, her purple eyes wide. Potter's were just as round. Blast! Why had Potter chosen now to come in and bring him more bad news?

“Is there something else?” she asked quietly. “Mr. Potter wants—”

He pushed aside the laugh that bubbled in his throat, taunting him with the need that had been honed only by kissing her fingers when he ached to taste her soft lips. To speak of what Potter wanted might lead the conversation to discuss what he wanted as well.

And Anice? Did she yearn to be in his arms as much as he wished her there?

He vowed, as he watched her walk back toward the path to Ardkinloch, to find out.

Five

Anice raised her eyes to watch a golden eagle soar over the hills. Patting Pippy on the head, she smiled as Bonito came over the crest of the ridge to see what they were doing. Pippy and Bonito were closer than littermates, even though she suspected they often baffled each other with their unique ways.

As Lucais baffled her. Or was she more puzzled with her own actions? Three days had passed since he had lured her into his arms in his tent, but the heat of his lips on her skin still burned on her fingers.

She was being fanciful. That was most unlike her. How many times had Mother remarked that Anice had inherited her grandmother's propensity toward common sense? So many times, because Mother often had chosen to live in a way that no one would deem sensible.

Lowering her gaze to the valley, Anice could pick out with ease where the men were working on the road that had come north from Edinburgh and would cut through the heart of the glen. Dust rose from the site where they had torn away part of the hillside with a huge explosion that morning. The very walls of Ardkinloch had shuddered. She had come out here, half expecting to see the remains of Dhùin Liath tumbling down into the river, but the old castle had weathered the concussion far better than the newer manor house.

Within Ardkinloch, everything was a bumble-bath. It had taken most of the morning to clean up the shards of broken glass and pottery that had crashed to the floor and shattered, but that had been the simple part. Two of Anice's great-aunts had taken to their beds, certain the end of the world had arrived. A cousin who was only a few years older than Neilli and already expecting her fourth child refused to come out of her room, fearing that the sound would deafen her unborn babe. All her great-uncles, uncles, and male cousins—probably a score in all—had decided the noise could be dealt with only by swallowing generous portions of whisky.

And all of them had wanted to complain or demand an explanation or expect an apology from Anice. She had come up here not only to check the old castle but to escape her family's voices yet again.

Lucais had sent word last night that the blasting would begin that morning. Neither she nor anyone else in Ardkinloch had guessed the power of the gunpowder sending the stone and dirt up into a hideous gray cloud.

Pippy gave a low rumble in his throat. Quickly Anice glanced around, then relaxed when she saw her cousin walking toward her. Neilli was rocking her bonnet in her hand. Only when Neilli paused by her did Anice see that the bonnet was filled with wildflowers.

“What a hash they are making of our glen!” grumbled Neilli as she sat beside Anice on the low outcropping of stone.

“It will never be the same, I fear.”

“You should make him leave.”

Anice chuckled tightly. “Do you think that
I
can order a representative of the government to go away? Beyond this valley, I fear the Kinloch name does not have much influence.”

“There are other kinds of influence.”

“What are you suggesting?”

Neilli shuddered. “Not
that
, Anice. I pity you for every moment you have to spend in his wretched company. It must be so horrible for you.”

“Horrible is not the word I would use to describe it.”

A laugh came from behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, she stared up at Lucais, who was standing directly behind her. Why hadn't Pippy warned her that he was approaching? The dog had growled when Neilli came along the path but had remained silent when Lucais was sneaking up on them. Pippy's tail wagged wildly as Lucais stepped down to the path.

“I am glad you would not use the word horrible,” Lucais said with another laugh. “A man does not like to hear that word associated with him.”

“Then,” Neilli said, coming to her feet, “he should make a greater effort to be less intolerable.”

“Neilli!” scolded Anice.

“Do not chide me for speaking my mind,” her cousin returned. “I say nothing more than most folks wished they could. It would be for the best if these intolerable men went back to England and did not return.”

Lucais bent his head slightly toward her. “I appreciate your honesty, Miss Kinloch.”

“I doubt that.” With a sniff, she picked up her bonnet and hurried toward the house.

Anice wished she could think of something to say. Apologizing for Neilli's behavior would be silly. Neilli was not sorry she had said what she had. In fact, Anice suspected that her cousin rather appreciated the chance to air her opinions.

“Do you appreciate everyone's honesty?” she asked in lieu of an apology.

“May I?” He gestured toward where Neilli had been sitting.

“Of course.”

Settling himself comfortably on the rock, he bent to scratch Pippy's ears. “I would appreciate everyone's honesty if everyone was being honest.”

“That sounds like a riddle.”

“It isn't.”

Anice drew up her feet and wrapped her arms around her legs. When she saw Lucais's astonishment, she did not shift. She liked to sit like this and enjoy the view of the valley. “Then I fear you will have to enlighten me.”

“I had hoped that
you
would enlighten
me
.”

“Another riddle.”

“No, another attempt to persuade you to be candid with me.”

“About the road project?” She laughed as Bonito trotted toward them. “It has unsettled everyone and everything on the Kinloch lands, even poor Bonito here. I believe he feared the very earth was shifting beneath him. He scurried into the barn, and for the first time since he arrived here left the sheep to their own devices.” She chuckled again. “Not that it mattered. They followed him at the best speed they could manage into the barn and then right back out when things started falling off the shelves.”

“I sent a message to warn you.”

“We did not take you as seriously as we should have.” She shook her head. “We will heed the warnings more closely if you do additional explosive work.”

“If?” He regarded her with a frown. “Are you suggesting that you intend to stop us from further blasting?”