Highland Storms (6 page)

After giving orders for a small bedchamber to be readied for their guest, Marsaili made her way to the great hall. She hadn’t exactly rushed, but although she knew it was rude to keep the guest waiting, it was part of the instructions Seton had given some time ago.

‘
Any strangers turning up out of the blue are bound to be Redcoats in disguise, trying to prove we’re all rabid Jacobites,’ he’d said. ‘They deserve no consideration and none of the usual hospitality. Let’s hope they take the hint and don’t return.’

Marsaili privately considered Seton overly cautious, even verging on paranoid, but kept her thoughts to herself. Culloden and its aftermath were in the past now and she doubted the English were interested in Rosyth House any longer. Still, there was barely enough food to feed the current inhabitants, let alone anyone else, so the fewer guests that returned, the better.

She entered the great hall without knocking and walked over to the two high-backed chairs in front of the huge fireplace. All she could see of the visitor was a pair of very long muscular legs encased in travel-stained breeches and dusty riding boots. She opened her mouth to announce her presence, but didn’t get a chance since the visitor turned to look at her and spoke first, his clear, unaccented English proclaiming him a Sassenach of the worst kind – gentry.

‘
Ah, I thought I’d been forgotten,’ he said. ‘Whatever happened to the famed Highland hospitality I’ve heard so much about? A man could die of thirst here, I should think.’

Marsaili realised he must believe her to be a maid servant, which was no wonder since she was still wearing the old clothes she used on washing days. She drew herself up straight and found her tongue. ‘I’m the housekeeper here and I apologise for keeping you waiting. I was detained, but I was under the impression you were being looked after.’

‘
Haven’t been offered so much as a drop of water.’ The man stood up and put his head to one side to regard her critically. ‘You’re the housekeeper? You look far too young, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ His piercing gaze travelled the length of her from head to toe, a scowl marring his brow.

Marsaili felt her cheeks flame. Men had stared at her since her early teens and she hated it. It made her feel very uncomfortable. Although she knew she should have been pleased that they found her beautiful and desirable, it had been nothing but a source of annoyance. This man was assessing her too, but he didn’t seem impressed with her looks. On the contrary, he continued to frown as if he found her wanting, which baffled her. It wasn’t the reaction she usually got. Either way, she knew there wasn’t a thing she could do about it except glare at him. He stared right back, his eyes startlingly blue.

Disconcerted, but determined to stand her ground, she deliberately looked him over in the same way. Unfortunately, she found nothing to criticise, as he was quite the best-looking man she’d ever encountered. Not conventionally handsome perhaps, but unbelievably striking. On first impression, he seemed like a gilded statue, with deeply tanned skin and hair so blond it was almost pure white. Dead straight, some of it fell from a middle parting, caressing his high cheekbones, the ends just brushing a square jaw covered in at least a week’s worth of golden stubble. The rest was tied back in a somewhat messy tail which hung down past his shoulder blades. A strong nose, straight and sharp with a slight upwards tilt at the end, a firm but full mouth and a determined chin added character and made for an arresting face.

Marsaili’s gaze moved down to take in broad shoulders dressed in nothing but a linen shirt, with the sleeves pushed up to show sun-kissed, well-muscled arms. The man wore no waistcoat or neckcloth and had left the shirt open at the throat so she glimpsed an equally tanned chest as well. It was a most unsettling sight.

‘
Do I pass muster?’ he asked somewhat sarcastically. ‘Because if so, perhaps I could have that drink now?’

The man’s words brought Marsaili back to her senses and she looked away. ‘I don’t know what you mean, sir,’ she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat up again. She couldn’t believe she had done to him the same thing she was usually subjected to herself. Now she’d been just as rude, and to the only man on earth who apparently wasn’t attracted to her.

She took a deep breath and wondered if she should apologise, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly caught sight of Liath. The big dog was lounging on the other side of the chair the man had been occupying, seemingly at ease with the stranger. In fact, his tongue was lolling and he looked ridiculously happy. Marsaili gasped and looked around to make sure no one else had seen him, Seton in particular.

‘
Liath!’ she exclaimed. ‘You know you’re not allowed in here. Back to the kitchen with you, now.’ She pointed towards the door, but although the dog sat up on hearing his name, he didn’t move. Marsaili blinked. Liath had never before disobeyed a single command from her, not since he was a small puppy.

‘
Oh, leave him be,’ the man said. ‘He’s been keeping me company and he’s been most welcoming.’ He bent to scratch the dog behind the ears, earning himself a lop-sided grin from the hound. ‘So you’re Liath, are you? Pleased to meet you.’ Then he looked up at Marsaili. ‘And might I know your name?’

Marsaili gritted her teeth and swallowed her anger. The sooner she served this man, the faster she could escape from his presence. ‘Marsaili Buchanan. If you wouldn’t mind waiting for a short while longer, I’ll fetch you some victuals then I’ll show you to your room.’

‘
Thank you. Don’t rush on my account, by all means.’ Again the sarcasm that made Marsaili want to hit him, but she knew he was right and they hadn’t treated him as they ought, so she contented herself with marching off towards the kitchen.

Brice was pleasantly surprised to only be kept waiting a few minutes before the woman returned with a tray. He was less pleased with what was on it – some sort of tiny, stale-looking biscuits. At least these were accompanied by a large tankard of ale and he immediately took several gulps before realising it was watery beyond belief. He hid a grimace. If it hadn’t been for the fact that riding on dusty roads made a man thirsty, he would have refused to drink this brew.

‘
Hmm, what a treat,’ he murmured, then quickly disposed of the meagre meal without commenting further. Perhaps the house genuinely couldn’t offer him anything else. From what he’d seen so far, there was no prosperity here. In fact, most of the people looked as if they could do with a square meal. This made him frown because it wasn’t right. As his father had said, the Rosyth estate ought to be a prosperous one, despite the recent conflict. So why wasn’t it?

He glanced at the woman –
Marsaili, odd name
– and found her waiting by the door with an impatient look on her face. Perhaps he was keeping her from her duties, but surely in that case she could have delegated the job of showing him to his room to someone else? He looked her over again, although not as blatantly this time. He’d already noted earlier there was nothing wrong with either her face or figure, although she was tall for a woman. In fact, she was most definitely a beauty, but he was so used to comparing all women to Elisabet and finding them wanting, he’d automatically done the same here.

Besides, her hair, which hung in a thick plait over one shoulder, was made up of various shades of red and gold and she looked at him as if he was some sort of repellent insect. He’d never liked red-heads and had heard they had tempers to match their colouring, which he could do without. A woman should be soft and biddable –
like Elisabet pretended to be, damn her!
– and not sharp-tongued and glaring like this one was.

He stood up. ‘I’m ready,’ he declared.

The housekeeper nodded. ‘Then follow me, please.’

Brice and the dog both did, Liath bringing up the rear despite being told once more by the woman to go to the kitchen. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him,’ she muttered. ‘He’s usually very obedient.’

Brice smiled at the dog when she wasn’t looking their way and received a tail-wag in return. He somehow felt the creature was trying to make up for the lack of hospitality and he was doing a great job. Much better than any of the humans in this place, Brice thought ruefully. Although perhaps the hound wasn’t usually treated with kindness and revelled in the attention the newcomer had bestowed on him. Brice loved dogs and animals of every kind, and Liath had obviously sensed this immediately.

‘
Here we are, sir. I hope you’ll be comfortable in here.’

Brice walked into the room Marsaili indicated, while she remained by the door putting a detaining hand on Liath’s collar as the dog tried to sneak past her. Brice stopped after two paces, since that was about as far as he could go without bumping into the narrow bed which took up almost all the space. This wasn’t so much a bedchamber as a closet, he thought to himself. And it was situated in what he’d always thought of as the servants’ part of the house too. Taking a deep breath to contain his anger at what he perceived was a deliberate slight, he gritted out a curt ‘Thank you.’

At least the bed had fresh sheets and a blanket without holes, and Brice spotted his saddle-bags in one corner. He turned around, deciding to goad the housekeeper just a little more. ‘I’d like a bath, please, if that’s not too much to ask? The roads around here are unbearably dusty this time of year.’

Marsaili, who had been on the verge of leaving, swivelled round and frowned at him. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no hot water to spare – it’s laundry day. Why not just jump in the loch like everyone else? It’s warm enough.’

She walked off, dragging the dog with her, and Brice stared after her. What was going on here, he wondered.
Go and jump in the loch?
She may as well have told him straight out to go to hell, since it was obviously what she and everyone else was thinking.

Well, they weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Now he was even more determined than before to find out what had happened to his father’s once-prosperous estate and its surly inhabitants.
His
estate.

‘
We’ll just see who has to take a running jump,’ he muttered. ‘I’d wager it won’t be me.’

Marsaili dragged an unwilling Liath back down to the kitchen. The dog gazed at her with big eyes as if to say she was being mean in not letting him stay with the stranger. But even if she’d wanted to allow it, there would have been no room for both him and Mr Aaron in the tiny room. And if Seton caught Liath anywhere in the house except the kitchen, he’d have a fit.

A twinge of guilt pierced her and she wondered if they were making a huge mistake in treating a possible government spy with such blatant inhospitality. What if it made him even more determined to find something to charge them with? It wasn’t up to her, however, she left such decisions to Seton. He was in control of estate matters and if he thought this was the best policy to adopt, then so be it. It was his problem, he’d have to deal with any bad consequences.

She went back to the laundry, but her mind wouldn’t give her any peace. An image of the golden-hued Mr Aaron kept invading her brain and she felt strangely unsettled. There had been something about him that didn’t ring true and she couldn’t work out what it was. He’d been easy-going enough, despite his barbed comments, and she should have been grateful he didn’t give her the kind of hungry looks she was used to receiving. For some reason she wasn’t though. Instead she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with him.

Why else had he virtually ignored her?

Faith, but he was more interested in Liath than in me!
It was a sobering thought.
Well, perhaps you’ve grown too used to male attention,
she told herself. Not everyone was like Seton and there were a few others, like Kirsty’s suitor for example, who also seemed able to resist Marsaili’s charms. Still, even he looked.

She shook her head at herself.
Just forget the man. Tomorrow he’ll be gone and hopefully you’ll never see him again.

Why did that thought suddenly depress her?

Brice didn’t know whether the housekeeper had expected him to stay in his room for the rest of the afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t his intention. He took matters into his own hands and decided to have a look around. If he was to find out what was going on, he might as well start now, he reasoned.

He gazed out of his window and was momentarily distracted by the sight of half a dozen young ladies standing in tubs full of washing with their skirts hiked up almost to their hips. Although they were some distance away from him, he had no trouble picking out the housekeeper, whose shapely limbs were working just as hard as anyone else’s. He remembered this strange way of doing the laundry from his visits as a child, but he’d never before realised how enticing a tableau the women made, especially her.

He blinked and turned away, trying to erase the image from his mind. He had more important things to do than gawp at indecent females.

First of all, he needed to check on Starke. Since he was familiar with the layout of the house, he was able to use a back door and thereby avoid being seen. On reaching the stables, he found them deserted and apart from his own horse, there were only two others in there. They were small, of the type most common in the Highlands, nothing but ponies really, sturdy and strong. Usually they’d be referred to as
garrons
, Brice remembered. He and his siblings had often ridden them and he knew they were sure-footed when travelling along difficult tracks, but also used for ploughing. You’d need teams of four for that though. Brice wondered what had happened to the rest?