In the Heart of the Highlander (11 page)

Chapter

14

Saturday, June 11, 1904

H
ell and the devil. Alec woke up with a pounding headache, and he had only himself to blame. Certainly Raeburn’s Special Reserve played its small part, but no one had made him lift his glass so many times. And then, he’d tipped back the bottle to get the last drops—

He had given his work crew Saturday off, so there was no need for the hotel stable boys to saddle his horse for the daily ride to Raeburn Court to inspect the progress. He had nothing to do all day but stay in this blasted place and avoid running into that blasted woman.

He groaned. What had possessed him to make such a deal with her? And how was he going to wait until Monday?

“Good morning, my lord.” His valet Mackenzie drew open the drapes and Alec threw his arm across his face at the hideous beam of sunshine. “Like that, is it? I’ll fix up my specialty.” Mac tsked as he bent to retrieve the empty bottle at the bedside.

“Lock up all the liquor. I never want to see one ounce of it again.”

“I was under the impression you needed it for tonight, my lord. For the card party that young Mr. Arden arranged. In fact, I suggest you ask Mr. Evan for another case just in case.”

“I drank only one bottle, Mac. There are at least a dozen left.”

The valet sniffed. “You know how gentlemen are when they are deprived of their usual amusements—they’ll be thirsty tonight. I do not understand how the Forsyth Palace Hotel can turn a profit without offering spirits to their guests. It is unnatural for an establishment in Scotland.”

Usually the temperance movement seemed highly misguided to Alec, but this morning he wondered if all those old biddies had a point.

“Do what you think best, Mac. I won’t be going to Raeburn Court today, so you can take the car over yourself if you want to.” Besides his horse, he’d brought his Pegasus motor car to the hotel’s new garage, although right now it sat in splendid shiny isolation. Most of the hotel’s guests continued to arrive by train or carriage. The roads were vertiginous, but the Pegasus could climb like a dream.

His valet blanched. “The car! I shan’t be doing any such thing.”

“Don’t be a sissy, Mac. It’s only two miles, and I’ve shown you how to drive. The road’s not bad.”

The valet folded his arms across a spindly chest. “I shall rent one of the hotel’s carriages.”

“Suit yourself. You’ll be dragged into the twentieth century someday.”

“But not today, my lord. Shall I ring for a breakfast tray to be delivered?”

Alec shook his head, which nearly killed him. “No. Just your concoction. Don’t worry about staying to help me bathe and dress. I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

Mac looked doubtful but was too wise to say anything. He disappeared into the sitting room and came back with a cloudy drink.

It was as repellant as Alec remembered, but he dutifully swallowed it all. Mac had had numerous occasions to mix up the vile brew in recent months. For all that society thought Alec was a heartless murderer and philanderer, he’d taken Edith’s death hard, and had drunk himself into too many stupors to count.

Perhaps that was why his brain had disintegrated and he’d agreed to service Mary Arden like some kind of stud animal. What was her excuse? Quite frankly, he couldn’t understand why she was still unmarried. Were there no men in Oxfordshire? She was a lovely armful, attractive, intelligent, though a bit of a challenge. In an age when women were meant to be cosseted and protected, Alec thought Mary would not be happy relegated to the hearth stitching an improving sampler. She would want her say—hell, she probably wanted her vote as well.

Alec stuck a foot out from under the covers.

“May I help you up, my lord?”

As if his scrawny valet could support Alec’s weight. “Don’t be absurd. I told you I’d be all right. Stop hovering. Go on to Raeburn Court, and give Evan my best.”

Evan did not live in the grand house that nearly rivaled the Forsyth Palace Hotel for rooms, but in the dower house on the property. Edith had not wanted either of Alec’s brothers underfoot. She hadn’t wanted him underfoot either, hence all the time he’d spent in London. He’d depended on Evan lately to help manage the estate for him, but it was time to resume his responsibilities. Evan had enough to do with the distillery.

What a damn fool Alec had been, marrying an innocent girl half his age and expecting to find happiness. Edith had been the deb of the Edinburgh season, sought after by every man who saw her pale blond perfection. That she’d settled on Alec—or her parents did—had seemed a dream come true. But soon everyone involved woke up.

Bah. This was no way to start the day. Alec climbed out of bed, his head throbbing at the altitude. The damned sun was shining, the river sparkling, the golf course green velvet. Alec had no interest in communing with guests, however, since his presence dried up most conversation. He looked forward to playing cards with the Rycroft brothers tonight, though. At least they had stood by him even when their newspaper sales could have skyrocketed dishing his dirt.

Should he shave? Likely he would cut his own throat. He’d have Mac do it when he returned. But he could dress himself for a tramp on the manicured paths that gave the guests the false idea that they were experiencing “nature.” The fresh air would do him good, clear his head.

As penance, he took the stairs down instead of the elevator, his head throbbing dully at every tread. Clusters of people were lounging in the lobby and taking breakfast in the glassed-in veranda. A jitney waited at the hotel steps for a party of fishermen. Alec liked to fish as well as the next fellow, but preferred to be solitary and out before sunrise. One could hear the quiet, watch the world unfold. There was something holy about the Highlands, not that he’d had much reason to believe in God lately.

There were several groomed trails through the forest, one that led right to his border and stopped at a gate he’d built with his own hands. Alec picked that one and whistled tunelessly as he clomped down the twisty path, his head shattering at every step. Somehow with this torture he’d teach himself not to indulge in the family’s finest. He was getting too old, and his head and stomach were not as impervious as they once were.

Photography had taken off since the Kodak Brownie had made the equipment so portable, and he expected to come upon an amateur photographer filming the wonders of a Scottish leaf or a startled fox. As long as they didn’t try to film him with his raging hangover and sell the picture to the yellow press, to each his own. One needed a hobby. Now that he’d ruled out drink and loose women for the foreseeable future, he wondered what to take up himself.

As a boy he’d roamed these woods with his brothers; as a young man he’d hunted when invited by Lord Northcott. Financial reverses had led the man to sell off the land to the consortium that built the Forsyth Palace Hotel, and now, naturally, hunting on the grounds was forbidden. It wouldn’t do to have the inexperienced guests go home in coffins when they’d come for their health. Consequently the wildlife had prospered, and Alec fielded complaints from his tenant farmers. Maybe he’d organize a hunt in the fall, if he could get anyone to come.

He sat down on a convenient rustic bench made of a fallen log, shut his eyes to the beauty around him, and squeezed his forehead to change the pain from one kind to another. And that is how Mary Arden found him.

“Good morning, my lord.”

Alec was too surprised to stand. She was lovely in the dappled shade, a vision in a white shirtwaist. Well, mostly white. The hem of her skirt was damp and stained. A smart straw boater trimmed with black velvet ribbon sat slightly askew on her head. Nevertheless, his heart hitched. “What are you doing here?”

There was no trace of embarrassment on her rosy face, as if last night had never happened and they hadn’t done what they did or talked about what they would do. “Why, the same thing as you, I imagine. I rose early and went for a walk to the falls. Do you know them?”

“Aye.” They were almost two miles ahead, not far from his own boundary. “You shouldn’t have gone all that way alone.”

“I don’t know about the alone part, but I agree it was a long walk,” Mary said ruefully. “I think I swallowed a bug, and my boots feel much too tight.”

Alec knew it was the current custom to wear footwear one or two sizes too small to appear dainty, but he’d seen Mary’s feet, and they were perfectly proportioned. “You’re not one of those girls who’s a slave to fashion, are you?”

“If you are asking if my boots fit me properly, they do. It’s just I’m unused to walking any great distances, and these are brand new boots. It all seemed a grand idea near dawn, but in practice it was a bit taxing. Do you think you can scoot over on that log and let me sit down?”

Alec stood up instead, realizing he should have done so in the presence of a lady as soon as he opened his eyes. “It’s not very comfortable. They must have cut corners on expenses and used deadfalls instead of buying real benches. There are probably all sorts of insects inside.”

“It will do, ants and all. I sat on a boulder a ways back and this is a vast improvement.” She gave a happy sigh as she arranged her wrinkled skirts. “They haven’t cut many corners here though, have they? The hotel is absolutely magnificent.”

Alec glanced backward. The open towers and turrets were just visible over the trees. One could see the hotel on its perch from miles around. “It should be. It cost over one hundred thousand pounds to build.”

“Heavens! Where did Bauer get the money?”

“He has partners, but I believe you know how he financed his share. One might even say I own a part of it myself,” he said ruefully.

“He blackmailed your wife?”

Alec shook his head. “Not until the very end. I sent him money to pay for her ‘treatments,’ of course. A lot of it. She was here almost every day for one thing or another.” He was almost sure delicate Edith would not have walked on this path to get to the hotel, though if she had, a guest might have thought he’d encountered a fairy sprite. Her silver-blond hair, her pale eyes, her slender body had been, to the uninformed, entrancing.

“Oh, Alec.”

He didn’t like the sympathy in her voice. “Yes, I was doubly a fool. But I would have paid any amount to have Edith’s health improve. She was nervous. Volatile.”

Mary looked straight into his eyes. “She sounds awfully spoiled to me.”

He knew that now. But originally he’d been stunned by her fey beauty and wanted her just like all the other men that met her under the careful chaperonage of her parents.

Her parents must have known she was difficult, but they blamed Alec anyway for what happened. He blamed himself as well.

Alec had to look away from Mary’s bright hazel eyes. There were times when he thought she saw altogether too much. “Spilt milk, Miss Arden. Suppose you let me unbutton those boots.”

“What? Here in the woods! You haven’t got a buttonhook on you, have you?”

“Don’t need one. I’ve gotten all sorts of women in and out of clothing for twenty years.” She already knew the worst about him—everyone did.

She blushed. “You shouldn’t brag about something like that.”

“Why not? Isn’t that why you picked me for your adventure?” He waggled an eyebrow and she turned pinker.

“Shh! Someone might hear!”

Alec looked up and down the path. There was birdsong, but no sound of footsteps or chatter. “I think we are safe. For now. There are half a dozen other paths. But we mustn’t be discovered together. I believe that was one of your rules.”

“Then you must let me go.”

“Not until I’ve seen to your injuries.” He sat back down on the log.

“I’m not injured! I’ll just go back up to my room and put some salve on my feet.”

“Ah, your famous salve. You’ll be happy to know it was quite effective.” He’d slapped the stuff on before he drank himself silly last night, and again before his walk this morning.

“Good.” She looked like she was struggling with a difficult problem, then sighed and thrust a small foot on his lap.

“These boots are made for city walking, my girl. You’re in the Highlands now. We’ll need to get you a proper pair of brogues.”

“I won’t be here long enough for new shoes,” she reminded him.

“Pity,” Alec said, unfastening the buttons and tossing the boot to the ground. Her stockinged foot was damp but smelled, remarkably, of citrus. Blenheim Bouquet, if he wasn’t mistaken. She always smelled good to him, but that was because she wore his own brand of cologne! A gentleman’s cologne at that. Miss Arden was an unusual gentlewoman.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me roll down your stocking.”

Her arms crossed her ample bosom, a much nicer sight of stubbornness than his valet Mac’s earlier display. “Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll just have to go by touch. Where does it hurt? Here?”

Mary winced.

“Blisters, I’ll wager. No dancing for you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t dance.”

“What! Never?”

“Not since Miss Ambrose’s Academy for Young Ladies. We had a dancing master, but I left before I learned very much. My brother wanted me at the store when our parents died.”