Ann Lethbridge (2 page)

His shoulders tightened at the thought.

Oh, he’d always made himself useful to Ian and the clan, taken on any task required of him, because it was his duty as brother to the laird. And he’d enjoyed teaching the clan’s children at the tiny school in Dunross village. But if he faced the truth, it was hardly a challenge. And as Molly’s father had been quick to point out when Niall had invited her to walk out with him, a man with no income or property was hardly a good prospect for a husband.

A blow to his pride, to be sure.

Even if his formal schooling had been cut short owing to lack of money after his father died, he had plenty of book learning. It was time to put his brain to work, for his own sake and for the good of his clan. Here at Carrick Castle, he hoped to earn enough to permit him to go to Edinburgh and find a lawyer willing to take him on as a junior.

Meeting this young lady was hardly a propitious start to his new career. Not if she told Carrick about that kiss. He half-wished he had never set eyes on the lass. Not true. He did not like to think of what might have happened to her had he not come along at that moment.

He glanced sideways at her, looking down at the crown of a black hat fashioned like a man’s curly-brimmed beaver with a bit of net tacked on. He couldn’t quite believe how tiny she was. Her spirit facing those footpads had made him think her much taller, but in reality her head barely came up to his shoulder. How she had managed to kiss him he wasn’t quite sure.

Oh, but he must have lent his aid to accomplish that bit of stupidity. Indeed, if he thought about it, his arm had gone around her to bring her closer. Instinct. Natural reflex.

The girl was, after all, devilishly attractive in a pixyish sort of way.

Her eyes were as green as mossy banks, changing to the mysterious green of winter forests with her mood. A bewitching face with creamy skin framed by unruly tendrils of auburn curls.

No one would call her pretty, but he found her fascinating. She reminded him of drawings of wee fairies in children’s books. A haughty wee fairy. One that would turn you into a toad on a whim.

And she’d faced those ruffians without flinching. Extraordinary and worrisome. It spoke of a recklessness he had learned to abhor.

As they walked side by side, he tried not to notice the way her habit clung to the sweet soft curves of her slender figure. Curves that had plastered themselves against his body minutes before. A body that had responded with a will to her soft swells and gentle valleys.

His blood warmed again. He had the urge to float his hands over those curves, to savour again the taste of her full bottom lip...

No. This was his employer’s ward. A lady to be treated with respect despite her surprising behaviour.

‘And where are you going, Mr Gilvry?’ she asked in her clear soft voice.

He had the feeling she wasn’t going to like his answer. ‘Carrick Castle. I am to start my employment there.’

‘Not Mr McDougall’s new under-secretary?’ she said in a sort of wail.

He’d been right. She didn’t like it one bit. ‘Indeed.’

‘I expected someone older. More—’

More what? Better dressed? He’d worn comfortable clothes for travelling first by boat and then on foot. He could imagine the sort of dandified gentlemen she was used to. ‘I am sorry if I disappoint.’

She gave him a look askance that he could not interpret. Annoyance, probably, because he did not have a silver tongue like his brothers. He always said what came into his head.

He kicked at a pebble. By all accounts, where females were concerned, honesty was not the best policy.

The silence had been going on for some time now, he realised. She was looking at him expectantly. No doubt waiting for him to say something witty or charming.

It wasn’t his style. He’d always felt completely left-footed with teasing and quick repartee.
Too much theory and not enough practice
, Logan, his youngest brother, always jibed.

The only time he’d ever tried anything of the sort had been at school in Inverness when he’d fallen hard for the headmaster’s daughter. She’d been horrified at the temerity of a lowly third son even daring an approach. He’d never again wanted to go through such a mortifying experience.

Hence his rather cold-blooded courting of Molly. He’d been surprised at the relief he’d felt when her father suggested he look elsewhere.

The woman at his side was still looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

‘It is a fine day for a ride,’ he said finally.

‘Except for the brigands,’ she said, tilting her head and affording him a full view of her face and the teasing curve to her lips.

A smile he answered with one of his own. ‘And the fact that your horse went lame.’

‘And the chill in the wind from the north,’ she added, her smile broadening.

‘And the dust.’

‘In fact, not a good day for riding at all,’ she finished.

He bowed slightly. ‘I stand corrected.’

She chuckled, a sweet soft sound that made his heart lurch as if it had stopped to listen. Inwardly, he shook his head at his odd imaginings. They were most unlike him.

They rounded a bend in the road, the castle, its towers and turrets, reflected in the loch at the foot of its walls. Damn. He’d forgotten just how tall those towers were. He hoped to God his duties didn’t take him to the top.

‘Carrick Castle,’ she announced.

‘I see it.’ Of course he saw it. It was huge. ‘I have been here before.’

Another of those quick glances up at his face and he noticed that her dark lashes were tipped with gold.

‘Not since I arrived last winter,’ she said. ‘I would have remembered.’

Now what did she mean by that? ‘I was last here more than a year ago.’

She stopped and faced him.

As he stared into those clear green eyes fringed with sooty lashes, his chest tightened with painful longing. The kind he’d experienced as a lad when he realised he would never be like his brothers—dashing like Drew, or devil-may-care like Logan. Always analytical, he was the kind to look before he leaped into danger. To weigh the odds, while Logan scoffed at his words of caution. Ian simply made use of his knowledge as it suited him.

And now he wanted what? To cut a daring figure to this lovely young woman? Wouldn’t that be hypocritical?

‘I’d be obliged if you would not say anything to Lord Carrick about what happened today,’ she said.

About the kiss. And a delicious kiss it had been, too. One he would not mind repeating, if she hadn’t been under his employer’s care. ‘I’d be a fool to talk about it, now, wouldn’t I?’

She gave him a blank look, then coloured. She caught her full bottom lip with perfect, tiny white teeth and he almost groaned out loud as his body tightened. A completely unacceptable reaction. He shuttered his expression.

‘I meant the footpads,’ she explained.

Oh, now he saw the trap. She planned to involve him in some web of deceit. ‘I see,’ he said, feeling unaccountably disappointed.

It must have shown in his face because she rushed on. ‘You were right. I should not have gone without a groom. Naturally, I will not do so again.’

That did not explain why she had done it this time. What in the devil’s name was she up to? Was she carrying on some sort of clandestine relationship? He would not put it past a female who would hold three men at bay with a pistol. This was not water he wanted to swim in. He started to shake his head.

She put a light hand on his arm. Her touch seemed to sear right through the wool of his coat to his skin. ‘Please.’

Once more he stared into those green eyes and had the feeling he might drown in their depths. His gaze dropped to her mouth. His body tightened with the anticipation of kissing her again.

‘Promise me, Mr Gilvry,’ she said, tightening her grip on his sleeve. ‘Please. It was a mistake I won’t repeat.’

The touch burned, but it was the pleading in her eyes that made him feel weak. And then there was that kiss. Something he should not have allowed. Something she could have easily held over his head, yet had not. ‘Verra well,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll say nothing, provided you keep your promise.’ Damn it all, he sounded like a stuffy older brother. Or a schoolteacher. Which he was, but not hers, for which he should be very thankful.

‘And there is no need to mention I was on my way to town when we met.’

He huffed out a breath and nodded. In for a penny, in for a pound, as it were. ‘All right.’

Her face lit with a smile that left him breathless. ‘Thank you. For everything.’ She danced away.

The girl was a witch. There was no other word for a woman who could twist him around her finger with such ease. He would not let it happen again. His future here was at stake.

He followed her under a stone arch ruptured by the teeth of an ancient portcullis overhead and into the courtyard. He looked about him. The castle wasn’t large by Edinburgh or Inverness standards, but it had served its owners well over the centuries. Its granite tower looked out over the harbour and the town it guarded. A curtain wall encompassed several outbuildings added over the years.

A stable lad took the horse’s reins from his hand.

‘Careful,’ she said looking over her shoulder. ‘He’s quite lame.’

The lad touched his forelock. ‘Yes, my lady.’ He looked enquiringly at Niall.

‘Niall Gilvry,’ he said.

‘You are expected,’ the boy said. ‘You’ll find Mr McDougall in there.’ He jerked a thumb at one of the buildings on the far side the courtyard and walked off, leaving him to find his own way.

Niall turned to bid the Lady Jenna farewell, but she was already mounting the steps to the main entrance on the first floor. She didn’t spare him a backwards glance. She’d extracted a promise and now he didn’t exist. Good thing, too. So why this sense of loss when she was the most irritatingly reckless and undoubtedly manipulative female he’d ever met?

Cursing himself for a fool, he went in search of McDougall.

* * *

His assigned room was at the base of the tower, for which he was heartily grateful, and while it had no window, it was near the side door into the courtyard where his office was located. There was little he could do to settle in, since his baggage would come up from the town by cart, so he was glad when he was summoned to meet with Lord Carrick. He headed up one flight of stairs to his new employer’s study and knocked on the ancient arched door bound in iron.

‘Enter.’

A man of around fifty-five, Carrick was still in his prime apart from a little extra fat under his chin and on his belly. The man had a pleasant hail-fellow-well-met look about him, until you looked into his pewter-coloured eyes. They had the power to strip a weaker man’s inner thoughts bare.

Niall met his gaze steadily. ‘You sent for me, Lord Carrick.’

His lordship lowered his brow. ‘Ah, Gilvry. Niall, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Niall kept his expression neutrally respectful.

‘Sit down.’ The older man leaned forwards in his chair. ‘I understand you met my ward on the road today?’

So much for keeping it a secret. He’d known it wouldn’t work. ‘Yes, sir, I did.’

‘And dealt handily with a pack of ruffians, too. You have my thanks.’

How did he know all this? ‘The roads can be dangerous, sir, but Lady Jenna swore she would not go out again without an escort.’ Now why was he trying to defend her?

Carrick sat up, his eyes sharpening with interest. ‘Did she now? And how did you extract that promise?’

By making one of his own, which was clearly futile. He winced. ‘I pointed out the error of her ways.’

Damnation, that sounded pompous, even if true.

‘And here I’ve been thinking a good switching would do her some good.’

Niall’s shoulders tightened at the thought of anyone laying a hand on the girl. He concentrated on not clenching his fists.

‘Is that how you keep order with your students?’ Carrick continued. ‘Appealing to their reason?’

‘In part, my lord. Occasionally I resort to the removal of privileges.’

Carrick’s face brightened. ‘An interesting idea.’ He drummed the fingers of one hand on the desk, his face in a frown as if pondering a difficult decision.

Niall waited, holding his impatience in check.

The drumming stopped and the hand clasped the one beside it. ‘I’m called away to London on urgent business.’

Niall’s stomach dipped. Would he then have no need of extra help? He stood silent, waiting for the axe to fall, wondering where he would go next. He certainly would not return to Dunross. Perhaps he’d find work in Edinburgh while he looked for a lawyer willing to take him on.

‘I need someone to stand in my place during my absence. You seem like the man for the job.’

Niall felt his jaw drop. Carrick was jesting. Had to be. ‘My lord—’

Carrick put up a hand. ‘With Lady Jenna. She needs a firm hand. Someone to keep a close eye on her.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘With my wife at my daughter’s lying-in, there is no one else I can ask.’

He swallowed. ‘I’m not sure I have the right qualifications for such a role, my lord. Lady Jenna is no schoolgirl.’

Carrick raised a hand. ‘No, she’s not. But as my closest relative presently on hand, you will do as well as anyone.’ His last words stung. It was the same thing Ian had said about him being the teacher at the school.

‘Relative is too strong a word, my lord.’

‘Then you will do it because your chief commands it.’

And that was that. ‘As you wish.’ He winced at how grudging he sounded, but he had a strong feeling that Lady Jenna was not going to like this any better than he did.

Carrick rose and went for the bell. A footman appeared within moments. ‘Fetch Lady Jenna,’ Carrick said.

The footman disappeared.

‘I’ll grant you it is not ideal,’ Carrick said, looking at Niall from under his brows. ‘But her companion, Mrs Preston, is as useful as a knife with no blade. Gilvry, if you managed to get the Lady Jenna to agree to anything, you have my undying admiration. She is a determined young lady, as you will discover.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And you’ll not let me down or your brother can go hang next time he needs cargo space in one of my ships.’