Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (16 page)

“Would you consider me terribly
rude if I were to curtail our visit today?” Millicent asked. “I know it sounds
silly, but suddenly I find myself concerned for my husband. I have not left him
alone for so many hours, and he is still recovering.”

“I understand perfectly,” Mrs.
Trimble answered, turning back to her with a smile. “I am very sorry that
Reverend Trimble missed you. The builders at the grange must be interesting
fellows.”

Millicent stood up. “I’m certain
they are. In fact, I was hoping to ask his assistance in hiring one of these
same men for the renovations at Melbury Hall. Aside from the new cottages, I
was also hoping to build a stone wall to stop the river from flooding into the Grove
every spring. I have quite a bit of work that needs to be done at the Hall.”

“I know he’d be delighted to help
out with that, my dear. Perhaps I could have him stop out at Melbury Hall
sometime this week. Perhaps while he is there, he could meet his lordship.”

“That would be very nice,”
Millicent said in a small voice, already wondering what kind of bribe she could
use with Lyon to make him behave for the few minutes Reverend Trimble would be
in his company.

****

The door to the earl’s bedchamber
was open. A few minutes earlier, Ohenewaa had seen one of the servants cursing
and grumbling as he passed her with a tray. She took a step toward the door and
looked inside. 

The man was alone, propped up in a
chair near the window. She was surprised to see he had a newspaper on his lap.
His attention appeared to be divided between the paper and the view outside the
window.

“Instead of hiding in the shadows,
why not come in?”

He never turned his head, and he
caught her off guard. Ohenewaa considered ignoring the remark and moving down
the hall. Instead, though, she entered the chamber. There was a marked
difference between what she saw in the room now and what she recalled seeing
her first night here. There were no vials of medication. No smell of sickness.
No sense of gloom. She inspected the painting and rugs and tables, and then
looked over the man, studying him like any of the other furnishings.

“Why do you roam around the halls
like a ghost? You can walk. You can talk. Why not make more noise?” His
questions were abrupt, and this time his eyes focused on her from across the
room. 

“You make enough noise for both of
us. Since we have started asking questions, though…” She motioned to the open
paper on his lap. “Why don’t you admit this to her? You appear perfectly
capable of entertaining yourself.” 

“Perhaps I enjoy her company.”

“Perhaps you need someone to
torment.”

“I do not ask her to come. She
agreed to the arrangement. What she does, she does of her own free will.”

“You haven’t told her that you’ve
improved. You might tell her that there is no need for her to fret over you
every minute of the day.”

“You care about her,” he said,
staring incredulously.

“You do not.” Ohenewaa matched his
expression for a long moment before turning and starting toward the door.

“Come back again. I enjoyed our
lengthy visit.”

Instead
of going downstairs, Ohenewaa walked to her own bedchamber and stood looking at
her herbs and bottles.

She had helped the earl and his
wife once already. But her excuse to herself then had been that she was tired
of listening to the two of them shouting and breaking things at all hours of
the day and night. Her involvement, she told herself, had been as much for her
own sake as for theirs. But what she planned next was far more complicated. 

In fact, before today she wasn’t
certain that it might be a wise thing to go through the entire process of
decocting to extract the oils for a particular mixture that she wanted. The
salve she had in mind would serve several purposes. Thinking about him now,
Ohenewaa told herself that she was a healer. Besides, from the first day on,
she had been looking for a way to thank Millicent for what she had done for
her.

The question of whether
he
was deserving of the effort Ohenewaa would expend had been answered today. She
had seen he had a spirit within him, and—whether he knew it or not—he was
helping his young wife to heal. 

And that was a good enough reason,
Ohenewaa thought. She would help him.

*****

The ride and the bracing winter air
had a noticeable effect on her. She looked far more relaxed—almost cheerful—and
completely undisturbed by the complaints that he started with the moment she
walked into the room.

“A swarm of dung flies would not
sit on this bread. And this soup must surely be the result of some mangy cur
lifting his leg and pissing in the pot. Are you and your bloody cooks trying to
poison me?”   

“With images like that running
unbridled through your mind, m’lord, I don’t blame you for not wanting to eat
it. Indeed, you must surely detest the food simply for being weary of it. I
must have a talk with the cook. You are beyond the need for these watery broths
and dry bread. There is no reason that you should not be served what the rest
of us are eating.”

As she took the untouched tray off
his lap, the profanities that he was preparing to deliver withered on his
tongue. For the mere seconds that Millicent had leaned close to him, he had smelled
the scent of fresh air in her hair. He found himself admiring the touch of sun
on her cheeks. He watched her deposit the tray on a table beside the door.
B
loody hell
, he thought, recovering his composure. 

 “I don’t want to eat anything you
bring up here,” he barked shortly.

“I perfectly agree.”

“By the devil, I think this is a
first.”

“I assure you, it is only the first
of many agreements we shall have.”

He scowled at her bright face
suspiciously. “What is this all about?”

“You should not be served your
meals here in this room at all. The surroundings are too restricted. The air is
too stale. I also believe that an ill-tempered disposition tends to linger in a
place. And I must say that with your temperament, this chamber already reeks of
it.”

“Well don’t leave your own
temperament out, as long as you’re going on about it.”

“Very well, m’lord.
Our
temperaments.”

“And don’t call me ‘m’lord’,” he
grumbled. “I won’t have my wife calling me that. You’ll call me Lyon when we’re
alone, and Aytoun when we’re not.”

“As you wish.” Millicent held her
hands folded before her and gave him a bright smile. “But starting tonight, you
and I will have our meals in the dining room.”  

Lyon would have told her she was
daft if he weren’t momentarily arrested by her smile. She was damned bewitching
with those soft dimples in her cheeks and the mischief dancing in her gray
eyes.

“That settles it.” She clapped her
hands once and reached for the servant’s bell.

“The devil it does!” he finally
managed to get out. “I am no wooden puppet to be dragged up and down those
damned stairs three times a day while jug-headed rogues stand by and ridicule
me.”

“You certainly are not, m’lo…Lyon. No puppet I’ve ever seen could talk and curse with such fervor or frequency.” She
moved toward him. “But in spite of your many faults, I will promise you
that—other than two of your own men who shall help me move you—no one will be
standing about and watching.”

“This shall
not
be.” He
spoke more forcefully.

“Indeed, it shall.” She matched his
tone.

“I am content to remain here.”

“Before, you were content to remain
unconscious and to starve. Right now, you are content to play the part of the
angry bear and constantly flash those teeth at me.”

“Come closer, my dear wife," Lyon threatened in a low voice, "and I’ll show you how dull my teeth are.”

A soft blush spread evenly across
her cheeks, but instead of backing away, she placed her hand on his shoulder
and leaned toward him until they were face to face.

“Despite the tangled beard and
uncombed hair that successfully give you a certain mad look, I don’t believe
you look very frightening from this distance. Maybe if I were to shave your
face—”

His left arm darted out and took
hold of her arm, toppling her onto his lap. She gasped in surprise and fell
against him.

“No one touches my beard.” 

She seemed lost for words. This
close he could tell her gray eyes had silver speckles in their depths. Her skin
looked so soft. Lyon’s gaze fell on her lips, and without another thought he
found his mouth had captured hers in a rough kiss.

She did not pull away, but rather
leaned into him and clutched his shoulders. Blood pounded in Lyon’s body. Her
lips were so soft and giving. He slanted his mouth over hers and was about to
deepen the kiss when suddenly she dragged herself off him and away from the
chair. She was blushing furiously, her hand over her mouth as she backed all
the way to the far side of the room.

Lyon tried to calm his unsteady
breathing as he watched her flushed face. She touched her brow, tucked loose
tendrils of hair behind an ear. With trembling fingers she tried to straighten
her dress. He followed the movement of her hands and told himself she was his
wife. After three weeks of being in each other’s company constantly, this was
to be expected. Still, though, what had happened between them was totally
inexplicable to him. What he felt was confusing as hell.  She finally turned to
him with a polite smile pasted onto her face. But he could see through the
mask. She was visibly shaken.

“We cannot live the rest of our
lives in this one room, m’lord.”

His thoughts, however, were not in
agreement with hers. He still wanted to be left alone here, with one small
exception…Millicent. Surprising as it was, he wanted her here with him. 

“I believe it would be good for
both of us to get out of this chamber.”

Us
instead of
you
. Anger began to seep into Lyon’s bones. Every time the door had opened this morning, he’d hoped
to see her. And now she was playing games with him. He forced himself to look
away from her lips, cursing himself for this additional layer of dependence on
another.

“No one asked you to spend so much
time in this room. I was content without you.
I
live here. You do
not
.”

“You are mistaken.” Once again her fire
returned. “I am your wife. Where you are,
Lyon
, I shall be. Where you
eat, I shall eat. Where you—”

She cut the words short, but Lyon knew what she was about to say:
Where you sleep…
  

“Do as you please, and the devil
take you,” he barked irritably. “I do not care to discuss this further. I don’t
need you. I am tired of seeing your face. And I’m bored with your incessant
chatter. Out.”

Lyon turned his head away without
waiting for her response. Staring out the window into the courtyard and the
fields beyond was his only escape. Silently, he tried to convince himself that
she deserved his sharp tongue. So what that they were man and wife? Kissing her
had been an impulse—a mistake. He only wanted her to let him be.

There was no sound for a long time.
She had not moved, but she said nothing, either. Lyon wondered if she was
finally going to give up.

“Actually, there is another reason
why I wish to drag you out of this room.” Millicent had the matter-of-fact tone
back in her voice. She was not ready to let him alone.

“Is there, madam?” He did not look
at her.

“From what Gibbs tell me, before
your accident you took an active interest in many of the Aytoun family business
matters. He said you never felt it was beneath you to oversee the management of
your estate in the Borders and your lands in the Highlands. You served as a
most valuable resource to many of your less capable peers. You are educated and
obviously quite shrewd when it comes to getting what you want. And you are here.”

“Your skills at flattery need work.
Shrewdness is not a noble quality.”

Lyon turned his head and saw her
run a nervous hand down the front of her dress to smooth an invisible wrinkle.
He knew what she was doing. This new strategy of hers was nothing if not
transparent.  

“I should like to introduce you
around Melbury Hall.”

“No.”

“This is not a social request, but
one regarding…well, business. There have been a few matters having to do with
the estate where I have needed guidance. I would very much appreciate it if I
could occasionally ask your advice on these concerns.”

“You have the income now. Hire a
better lawyer.”

“I already have an excellent one,
thank you,” she replied, continuing tenaciously. “But you know that the law
considers women feeble, at best. You also know that, as my husband, you are
wholly responsible for the actions of your wife.”

He snorted.

“Therefore,” she went on, “I am
giving you the opportunity of being involved. But again, considering your
reputation in the household as a tyrant, perhaps I need to rethink my
suggestion. After all, only a fool would want to have you meddle in things that
you quite possibly know nothing about. It would not be the first time people’s
perceptions of a man’s abilities have been mistaken. Or Gibbs may simply have
been speaking out of blind loyalty. Then again, I may have inferred more about
your abilities from what he said than he intended. Never mind. I don’t know
what I was thinking.”

“Nor do I. Your vexatious nagging
almost stops my breath, madam. Almost.”

Lyon let the weight of his gaze
travel down the length of her body. Despite the somber face that tried to mask
the woman’s feelings, despite the plain cut of her dark blue dress, despite the
simplicity of the way she piled her hair upon her head, he knew at that instant
that being confined in one room with Millicent was having a disquieting effect
on him.