03 - The Wicked Lady (36 page)

"Of course I will.
And I expect tae have ye visit me, too," she said, giving him a final hug.

She looked at Trevor, careful to keep all emotion out of her expression. "I appreciated everything ye have done."
She didn't wait for his reply. Instead, she turned and made her way quickly to Ian's carriage before she broke down in tears.

Trevor watched Kristen leave. He felt helpless to stop her. The old man had gotten his way, and now Trevor finally had his own reason to hate the old buzzard.

The carriage pulled out, and Trevor followed the vehicle with his gaze. She could have at least put up some kind of a fight. She could have said she wanted to stay with him. That was all it would have taken for him to break his agreement with Ian.

Instead she had said nothing . . . nothing at all. Evidently, he had his answer. She'd been waiting for a way out of their marriage, and he'd just given it to her.

"Do you think she'll come back, Trevor?" Hagan asked tremulously and slipped his small hand into Trevor's.

"I don't know, Hagan.  I honest to God do not know."

Chapter Twenty-One

How many weeks had gone by since Kristen had come to Scotgrow? Too many she thought as she watch the meadow waiting on Hagan.

Hagan galloped across the rolling meadow on his brown pony. He was accompanied by a groom, but Kristen had looked for Trevor, anyway, hoping he would come with Hagan. She moved down the back porch steps and across the yard.

The minute Hagan saw her, he slipped agilely from the pony and ran toward her. He threw himself in her arms and squeezed her tight.

"Look at ye."  Kristen laughed and swung Hagan around. "Ye've grown at least an inch in the last month," she said as she placed him back on the ground.

"A half inch." He grinned devilishly. "Trevor measures me every week and makes a mark on the side of the barn if I've grown any," Hagan explained. Then, completely out of the blue, he asked, "Why haven't you come to visit?"

Tears welled in Kristen's eyes, but she blinked them away. "I thought it better if I stayed here. I dinna think Trevor wants me at Chatsworth," she said huskily.

"Why do you say that?" Hagan frowned at her. "Has he said not to come?"

In so many words
, Kristen thought. She shook her head. How could she explain so a small boy could understand? She swallowed.

"Come with me," she said, taking his hand. The child sounded too much like a grownup. "We'll have cookies and milk in the gazebo." She decided it would be better to get his mind off Trevor, and better for herself as well.

"I like cookies."

Kristen smiled down at him. "I remember."

Once they were settled in the gazebo, Kristen said, "Tell me what ye've been doing? And dinna leave anything out."

"Well." Hagan grinned as if he had a big secret that he was dying to tell. "I've been helping Trevor train a colt," Hagan blurted out. "He's real pretty."

"What does he look like?"

Hagan stuffed a cookie in his mouth. "He-he's-"

"Dinna talk with ye mouth full," she scolded and handed him a glass of milk.

"He is black with four white feet and a white streak running down his nose," Hagan said proudly, not bothering to wipe the milk mustache from his lip.

"He does sounds pretty." Kristen reached over and wiped his mouth with a cloth. "Have ye named him?"

"Trevor let me name him," Hagan said proudly. "Said he will be all mine, but he's still too young to ride 'ccording to Trevor."

"So what did you name him?" Kristen prodded.

Hagan grinned. "Flash."

She watched Hagan's eyes brighten with pleasure. " 'Tis an odd name," Kristen said.

"The white down his nose reminds me of lightning, and Trevor suggested Flash 'cause it means quick."

Every time the child mentioned Trevor, Kristen hurt a little more inside, and now she was going to have to ask the question she swore she wouldn't. But she was dying to know "How is Trevor?"

Hagan rolled his eyes. "He works all the time. I heard one of the maids say he gets up before dawn and goes into his office. Then, in the afternoon, he spends time with me around the barn. I like that. But I think it makes all the workers nervous 'cause Trevor never did anything like that before. But he does now."

"I see."  Kristen bit her lip.  "Does he ever say anything about me?"

Hagan thought for a moment. "No. Once I was talking about you and he walked away. I think he had something else to do," Hagan said with childlike innocence.

She bet he did.

The revelation hurt, but Kristen struggled not to let it show. So Trevor didn't give a damn about her. It must be bad when he couldn't bear to hear her name. Where had she gone so wrong?

Not wanting to dwell on anything so painful, she made herself clean up the table. It helped to keep busy. "Let's get up and stretch our legs."

They whiled away the rest of the afternoon walking and playing games, but all too soon it was time for Hagan to leave.  She hugged him to her, then helped him mount his pony and instructed the groom to take good care of him.

Blinking back the tears, Kristen turned toward the house when Hagan called to her.

"Kristen."

She turned and looked at him.

He rode up on his pony. "I almost forget something," he said as he dug deep into his pocket and pulled out Constance's necklace. He smiled sheepishly. "I'm supposed to give this to you."

Kristen held out her hand, and Hagan dropped a lovely necklace into her open palm. "Did Trevor send this to me?" she asked, her hopes soaring.

Hagan shook his head. "Grandmere told me before she died that if anything happened to her she wanted me to give you this necklace. She said you would need it and--" Hagan looked up to the sky and drew a deep breath as he tried to remember "--and she hoped you would treasure it as much as she always did."

Kristen recalled the time when Constance had tried to give the necklace to her. She could picture Constance's pale face . . .

"I want you to have something." Constance had
reached over and opened the drawer next to the bed. She pulled out a black velvet pouch and handed it to Kristen.

"What's this?"

"Something that is very dear to me."

Kristen had opened the pouch and shaken the contents in her hand. The necklace she had stolen for Constance lay glittering up at her.

"I canna accept--this is yours."

"It will do me no good where I am going and I want you to have the necklace and think of me when you wear it."

"I canna except something so nice."

"Hear me," Constance sighed, her breathing labored. "My time is growing short. You must get Trevor to open up if you ever want to keep him."

"I've tried."

"Try harder. Remember, everyone he has ever given his love to has let him down. After a while, he just grew cold inside."

Kristen gave a choked, desperate laugh. "But I dinna know what tae do."

Constance had reached up and pointed to Kristen's chest. "Look deep inside yourself, and you'll find out what to
do . . ."

Shaking herself from her reverie, Kristen smiled. Constance hadn't taken no for an answer. Even in death she still got her way. Kristen folded the necklace in her hand. She would treasure the gift, but how would she ever convince Trevor that she hadn't stolen the jewelry? It would be the first thing he would think. But, she would be damned if she'd take the necklace back to him.

She dared hoped he would notice it missing.  Just maybe he would get angry, and then he'd have to come and see her. If only to take it back.

Kristen sat on the top porch step, her chin propped upon her hands as her elbows rested on her knees, and looked out on the lush green grass of Scotgrow.

Why couldn't she be happy here? She'd always wanted a family. Now she had one, but something was missing, and she knew what that
something
was. Unfortunately, she lacked the answers on how to fix her problem. Her whole body was engulfed in tides of indifference and despair. She sighed, weary of the arguments in her head.

She had enjoyed seeing Hagan this afternoon. She shut her eyes and recalled the pleasant afternoon.

A breeze blew her long hair across her face, bringing her back to the present and her loneliness.

She had hoped Trevor would come with Hagan. She had not seen Trevor once in two months, and she'd stubbornly not gone to Chatsworth. If the man wanted no part of her, then so be it. Let him grow old and weary without ever again experiencing any fun or love. Let him work himself to death.

She could remember when she had asked him if he knew the meaning of the word 'fun', and of course he hadn't. Hard work was all he knew. It wasn't good for him, and she had thought she'd changed him a little and brought some pleasure to his life. Trevor had seemed to grow more carefree when he was with her, but, according to Hagan now, Trevor was working harder than ever.

This was one situation she had no answers for, and she felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do. Would she ever see him again?

Ian glanced across the porch and spotted the redhead he'd been looking for all morning.

He paused to watch her. She sat on the top step her arms folded around her knees, staring out in the direction of Chatsworth. He'd hoped she had forgotten about the Englishmon by now.

Maybe he'd been wrong. He had only wanted to give the girl some time to find herself. Ian had not wanted that bloody Englishmon forcing Kristen into something she might not want. Now, thanks to her newfound family wealth, she had the opportunity to make her own choices.

"Bargain," Ian huffed. The Englishmon knew that Kristen had had no choice but to marry him. Trevor needed to sweat a little. Let him find out what it was like to have something precious taken away from him.

However, Ian's plan did not appear to be working.  Instead of Kristen blossoming into a beautiful woman, she had quickly become withdrawn. And the bloody Englishman had made no attempt to see her. None that Ian knew about.

Perhaps, he'd just have a talk with the girl. He shoved away from the wall. "Are ye not feeling well, lass? I thought with Hagan coming, ye'd be a bit more cheerful," Ian said as he sat down with a groan. "I fear the bones are not what they used tae be."

Kristen looked up at him with those vivid green eyes so much like his own. However, something was missing . . . they lacked a spark . . . they lacked life. She did manage a brief smile that somehow didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm a little tired."

"Tired, is it?" Ian gave her a knowing look. "Are ye not sleeping well?"

"Aye. I sleep fine."

"Then why, pra
y tell, are ye tired. I'm the one who should be tired, with my ancient, old bones."

"Ye're not that old, Grandfather," Kristen said as she lift
ed her gaze to study his face. "Sometimes I forget ye are my grandfather, and I think of you as my da."

"Unfortunately, I canna forget, since I have tae live in this body," he joked. "Tell me what's wrong, lass."

Kristen let out a long, audible breath. "I wish I knew."

Ian placed his hand on her arm. "We're family, lass. Ye can tell me anything."

"I know," she said, showing the tortured dullness she was surely feeling. "I--I thought Trevor would have come tae see me by now."

"That bloody Englishmon." Ian's voice rose. He forgot he was trying to be understanding. "Ye can do better, by far, for yerself."

"But I love him," Kristen stated simply.

Now it was Ian's turn to sigh. "I was afraid of that. Are ye sure, lass?"

Kristen nodded, and the tears she had tried not to shed crept, slowly down her cheeks.

Ian slipped his arm around Kristen and pulled her close. "
'Tisn't easy tae love a Claremont," he confessed.

Kristen nodded her head in agreement, then mumbled, "How would ye know?"

"'Cause I've loved one myself," Ian admitted as he looked down at Kristen's small hands. Something gold tangled between her fingers caught his attention. "What's that in yer hand, lass?"

Kristen opened her hand, and Ian recognized the necklace.

"Hagan brought this to me today. It once belonged to Trevor's grandmother. She told Hagan before she died that she would like for me to have it, but I fear Trevor will think I have stolen it."

"I've not seen that necklace in some fifty years," Ian said in a hushed voice as he reached for it. An emerald the size of a walnut hung at the end of a gold rope and caught the afternoon light.

He turned it over and examined every detail. The pain that had haunted him for so many years, came rushing back. Memories of what could have been flooded his mind. He pictured Constance's beautiful face and glowing eyes when she told him the emerald would always remind her of his eyes.

"When did ye see this necklace?" Kristen asked.