Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2) (19 page)

18

The spacious coach bounced over the rutted road, and inside, with her leg propped up on satin cushions, Lady Mary let out a muttered oath. Her eyes were blazing as she motioned to her maid. "Agnes, inform that coachman to look to the road or I'll have him lashed to the lead horse."

As the coach clattered along, Lady Mary closed her eyes, wondering if this journey would ever end. They were now traveling through familiar countryside, and she knew they were on her father's land. If they didn't encounter trouble, they would reach Davinsham Castle by nightfall.

Absently she stared at the ancient pine forests. Spring was in the air, and the ground was sprinkled with primroses and ferns. This was where she had been born and had grown to womanhood, but she felt no kinship with the land. She now belonged to England where her beloved George was buried.

"M'lady, perhaps you should not have made this journey so soon. Your leg's not yet well."

"You know I have to get to Davinsham, Agnes. I can tell you for certain I'm not looking forward to being the bearer of bad tidings. Ian, I fear, has a malevolent personality and is apt to strike out for Glencarin with armed men."

"These Scots are a fighting lot, m'lady. But I doubt it would be prudent for them to wage a war. His Majesty would never allow it."

Lady Mary sighed. "No doubt my father will view the incident as reason for a fight. There is likely to be a bloody confrontation if cooler heads don't prevail. If only Raile were here, he'd know what to do."

"M'lady, I'm most distressed to think of Lady Arrian and Her Grace in the hands of that devil."

"Don't fret about them. My niece can hold her ground with Warrick Glencarin. I'm more concerned with the consequences that will come from Lord Warrick's actions."

As the sun slipped behind the darkened woods and painted the sky with bright streaks of crimson, the coach entered the gates of Davinsham Castle.

A cortege of servants rushed from the castle to aid Lady Mary. She was carried upstairs to the bedroom that had been hers as a girl. Her leg was propped on pillows, and her maid went below to get her something light to eat.

There was a knock on the door, and Ian Maclvors entered. He stood silently watching the servants make his aunt comfortable, then ordered them to withdraw so that he could talk to Lady Mary in private.

"Your messenger arrived only yesterday morning, Aunt Mary, and he was a bit vague." His eyes snapped with anger. "I have been damned patient, but I demand to know why Arrian isn't with you. Has she decided she no longer wants to marry me?"

Lady Mary looked at her nephew with calm disdain. She had been dreading this moment. "I would have thought you might inquire about my health, Ian."

He sat down beside her, his eyes boring into her. "How careless of me. But you see, I deduced that if you were well enough to make the odious journey from Edinburgh, you would most likely be recovered."

Lady Mary tried to postpone the inevitable for as long as possible. "Never mind about that. Where is my father and why wasn't he present to greet me?"

"Then you don't know?" Ian leaned back and shoved his hands in his pockets. "My messenger must have passed you on the road."

"I saw no messenger."

"Then I'm afraid it falls to me to tell you that Grandfather is gravely ill. The doctor is with him now. It's his heart again, only this time it's much more serious."

She eased her legs off the bed. "Help me up. I must go to him at once."

"First I want to hear about Arrian and why she isn't with you."

Lady Mary didn't want to contend with Ian's questions, not until she saw her father. It would be better if she told them both together. "Lend me your arm. I'll go to my father now."

Reluctantly Ian stood and helped her to rise. She leaned heavily on him as they walked along the hallway.

"I asked you before if Arrian had decided against marrying me. She's returned to England, hasn't she?"

"No, she hasn't. She's with her mother. I said I would tell you about Arrian later. Your love life will keep until I've seen my father."

Ian had never liked his aunt. She had a way of ordering people around, and she always got her way. But it wouldn't be long until he was head of the Maclvors clan. Then he would have the power and have to answer to no one.

She gripped his arm, hobbling toward her father's room. Ian hoped her leg pained her with each step she took.

The room was dark, and there was only a single candle burning near Gille Maclvors's bed. Lady Mary limped to her father's bedside and stared down at him. His eyes were open, but she could not be sure he saw her.

She glanced up at the doctor, who shook his head sadly.

"Well, Mary," Lord Gille said in a weak voice, "I might have known you wouldn't let me slip away without instructing me on how the deed should be accomplished."

It hurt her to see that her father was only a shell of the man he once was. He had been a great hulk of a man whose mere presence overpowered lesser men. He had held the family together with pure strength and determination. Now his breathing was labored, and his arms looked so fragile and brittle it appeared they could be snapped like dry twigs. His skin was stretched tightly across his face and resembled old parchment.

She smiled through her tears. "You're too stubborn to die unless you choose the time and place, Father."

He rolled his eyes at her with some of his old fire. "This is the place, and it's nearing the time. Will you grieve for me, Mary?"

"Nay, Father—I'll miss you, but I'll not grieve. You've had a good long life and had everything your way. I hope when it comes my time I can say the same, then I'll be glad to go."

He laughed so hard that it turned into a spasm of coughing. The doctor picked up a bottle, trying to poke medicine down his throat, but Lord Gille pushed his hand away.

"Get out. I don't need a doctor."

Lady Mary sat on the edge of the bed holding her father's hand. "Had I known you were so ill, I would have been here sooner."

"Where's Kassidy?" the old man asked, looking around the room. "Where's my favorite grandchild?"

Ian hung back with a scowl on his face. It had always been Kassidy his grandfather favored. His eyes narrowed. Even now the old man hadn't asked to see him.

Lady Mary held back her tears. "Father, Kassidy doesn't know you are ill, or she'd be here."

"I want to see her again. I won't die until I tell her she did right in marrying that Englishman. He's been good to my Kassidy, and that's all I ever wanted for her."

"She'll be glad to hear that, Father. She has always wanted the two most important men in her life to approve of each other."

Lord Gille noticed Ian standing impatiently by the door and motioned for his daughter to lean closer. "Watch over Arrian," he whispered in a raspy voice. "I'm not so certain Ian is the husband for her. He has a cunning about him. I thought he would grow out of it, but he hasn't."

Lady Mary had thought she was the only one who had sensed something sinister about Ian, but apparently her father had felt it also. He would die without ever knowing that Arrian and Kassidy were, at this moment, prisoners in the home of his enemy. "I'll watch over Arrian. You can be certain of that, Father."

Ian heard his name mentioned but couldn't hear what was being said. With anger boiling inside him, he stalked out of the room and down the stairs. His aunt was keeping something from him about Arrian, and he intended to find out what it was.

Lady Mary stayed with her father until he fell asleep. It was after midnight when she got back to her room. To her displeasure, she found her nephew waiting for her.

"I'm bone weary, Ian. I haven't seen a real bed in three days. Anything you have to say to me can surely wait until morning."

Agnes fussed about disapprovingly, unfolding woolen blankets and placing a warming pan in the bed. "I told him as much, m'lady. But he insisted he'd see you tonight."

"Leave us alone, Agnes. What I have to say to my aunt is private."

Lady Mary turned on Ian. "You'll not take it upon yourself to order my maid about. Agnes takes orders from me, and only me—you might want to remember that in the future."

Ian's eyes hardened. "I'll remember."

"See that you do. Now, what would you like to know about Arrian?"

"Surely you can guess that I've been out of my mind with worry about her. I was told that she would be landing at Leith and I rushed there to meet her. But when the
Nightingale
docked she wasn't aboard. Because of Grandfather's failing health I was ordered home. I thought Arrian would then be coming by coach with you, but you arrived alone. What am I to think? If you're trying to spare my feelings, don't bother. If she's changed her mind about our marriage, tell me now."

Lady Mary sank down on the bed and leaned her head back against the pillows. "Agnes, bring me my jewelry chest."

The maid quickly complied and stepped back a respectful pace while Lady Mary searched among her jewels. At last she found what she was looking for and held the ring out to Ian.

He took it and stared at the bright ruby for a long moment. "So, she's returned the ring."

"No, she did not. The ring was returned to you by Lord Warrick Glencarin. He sends regrets and says I am to tell you that she wears the Drummond wedding ring."

The color drained from Ian's face as he leapt to his feet. "By, God, I'll see him dead for this! How dare that bastard take my Arrian." The veins stood out in his neck, and he balled his fists. "She belongs to me. I know she'll never allow him to defile her with his touch. She'd rather die."

Lady Mary stared at Ian as if seeing him for the first time. She had known him to torment the other children when he was small, and he had often been called to task for mistreating animals. But the man who stood before her now was incapable of rational thought.

"Leave me now, Ian. I am very weary, and I'm worried about my father."

He turned on her with hatred blazing in his dark eyes. "How could you have allowed this to happen? She was under your protection. You are responsible for this."

"As it was, I had very little control over the situation."

"I want to hear every detail," he demanded.

She nodded to Agnes and the maid walked to the door, holding it open. "Tomorrow, Ian," she said firmly. "I will talk to you no more tonight."

Ian knew it would do no good to press his aunt further. She was a stubborn old woman who would have her own way. "I trust you'll have a pleasant sleep, Aunt Mary. I will call on you early, for I will not close my eyes until I know everything."

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him while Lady Mary and Agnes stared at each other.

"There's sure to be a fracas, m'lady."

"Yes, there will be, Agnes, and God help us all."

A week had passed since Arrian had gone riding with Warrick. Every day he sent word that he would like her to ride with him again, but each time her maid came with the message that Lady Arrian refused his invitation.

Finally Warrick knocked on Arrian's door. When her maid answered, she blocked his entrance. "M'lady has a headache," she said.

"I'll hear that from her own lips. Stand aside, you obstinate creature."

Kassidy kept a firm grip on the door and continued to block the entrance with her body. "Mayhaps you'll come back tomorrow and she'll see you."

Warrick's eyes clashed for a fraction of a second with the maid's angry green eyes before she lowered her head.

"Out of my way, Tuttle."

Kassidy entertained the notion of slamming the door in his face but decided against it, fearing it might arouse his suspicion. She moved out of his way and dipped into a quick curtsy. "As you wish, m'lord."

Arrian was seated on the window seat with a book in her lap. She warily watched Warrick cross the room to her. When he sat down beside her she stiffened, resisting the urge to run into the safety of her mother's arms.

"What is this?" he asked, taking the book from her hand. "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. So you are an admirer of Lord Byron? I suppose most women appreciate him because he romanticized life."

Arrian's voice was stilted but her eyes flaming. "Yes, Warrick, I admire Lord Byron. And I grieved for the world when he died."

"While I have never admired his poetry, I'm sure his wit is missed."

Arrian wondered how they could be having this casual conversation when so much had happened between them. Her heart was beating fast, and she had difficulty drawing a deep breath.

"You certainly didn't find this book in my library," he said, turning it over in his hand. "So, therefore, you brought it with you."

"I borrowed it from my mother before I left France." Her eyes met Kassidy's. "My mother and father met Lord Byron on a visit to Italy, Warrick. Lord Byron had a particular fondness for my mother. You will see the book is signed to her by Lord Byron's own hand."

Kassidy had tried to distract her daughter to keep her from showing Lord Warrick the inscription. But it was too late, for already Warrick was reading it aloud.