Read Lord of the Highlands Online
Authors: Veronica Wolff
Lord of the Highlands (19 page)
And then I shall reap.
“And you’re sure you’re not cold?” Felicity leaned down, looking in the eyes of Will’s father. A small flock of servants had helped her carry the man’s chair, with him in it, outside into the formal gardens.
Perfectly squared-off hedges were softened by shaggy clumps of wildflowers and an extensive rose garden. But, at the moment, it was the privacy Felicity appreciated best of all. She wanted to try to connect with his dad without having to worry about prying, judgmental eyes. “Don’t forget, it’s blink once for
yes
, and twice for
no
.”
yes
, and twice for
no
.”
He gave a slow, owlish blink.
“Wait. I’m sorry,” she said with an exaggerated shrug. “I forgot my question. Are you cold, yes or no?”
He blinked twice, and she would’ve sworn the man was trying to smile.
“Good. Well . . . just blink a bunch of times or something if you change your mind.” She began to neatly fold up the woolen blanket she’d brought outside. “I volunteered at a hospital for a while. I helped rehabilitate people just like you. I’d thought for a while that I wanted to be an OT . . . that’s occupational therapist. But . . . I don’t know.”
Sighing, she sat down on the bench across from him. “I just never took to it. I always ended up getting too emotionally involved. All these people whose lives had been so profoundly changed . . .” She frowned. “I used to get
so
depressed.”
so
depressed.”
Felicity adjusted her skirts on the cold stone. “I guess I’ve tried everything at one point or another. At least it seems that way. I really thought I wanted to help people, but I don’t know. Maybe I’m the one who needs help!” she joked, leaning in as if sharing a conspiratorial laugh.
“Hold on,” she said, suddenly serious. “Am I talking too much? I think I have a habit of—”
Will’s father quickly blinked twice.
“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Good. Because I was going to say, I’m a lemons from lemonade kinda gal. Wait”—she gave a little shake to her head—“I mean lemonade from
lemons
. Anyway, you get the point. My aunt—Livvie—I told you about her earlier?”
lemons
. Anyway, you get the point. My aunt—Livvie—I told you about her earlier?”
She waited for his blink and then continued, “Well my Aunt Livvie taught me to make the best of things.”
She grew quiet, thinking of her aunt. What would she make of all this? Making a wish on that candle and ending up in the past? Knowing Liv, she’d probably high five her.
Felicity shook her head. “Goodness knows, my life hasn’t always gone the way I expected.”
She paused, looking at the garden around them. Her life sure had hit some unexpected curves. And yet, Felicity couldn’t help but think it’d been all those painful twists and turns that had brought her to Will.
“And now I’ve met my hero, and gee, talk about mixed signals.” She gave Will’s father a pointed look. “I wish you could answer me. I sure would love some wisdom about your son.”
She tilted her head back, looking to the sky on a lengthy exhale. “He . . .
wow
. . . where do I begin? He drives me
crazy
. And boy do I mean crazy in
all
meanings of the word.” She looked at him through slanted eyes. “Well, I won’t go
there
. But suffice it to say, I adore the guy. And I think he likes me. But he seems determined to get me the heck out of here. I tell you, your boy Will is breakin’ my heart.”
wow
. . . where do I begin? He drives me
crazy
. And boy do I mean crazy in
all
meanings of the word.” She looked at him through slanted eyes. “Well, I won’t go
there
. But suffice it to say, I adore the guy. And I think he likes me. But he seems determined to get me the heck out of here. I tell you, your boy Will is breakin’ my heart.”
“He can’t answer you, you know.”
“Oh!” Felicity turned to see Rollo approaching across the lawn, and a giddy flush of anticipation made her stomach flutter. “Will. Hi.”
She whispered to his father, “Speak of the devil. You don’t think he heard, do you?” she asked, biting her lip.
The man blinked twice, and she squeezed his hand. She didn’t have many memories of her own father, and it delighted her to feel like she had a friend in Will’s.
Rollo set a tray of food beside her on the bench. “I saw you out here and thought I’d bring my father’s meal myself. I’ve just now summoned a maid to feed him.”
“What?” Felicity pulled the tray toward her. “We don’t need a maid. Jeez,
I’ll
feed your father.” She lifted a square of linen to reveal a yellowish broth. “Gross. What is this? Is this what they feed you every day?”
I’ll
feed your father.” She lifted a square of linen to reveal a yellowish broth. “Gross. What is this? Is this what they feed you every day?”
He blinked once, holding his eyes shut for a beat, as if to express his misery.
“That’s horrible! You poor man.” She rounded on Will. “The poor man, he only gets
this
?”
this
?”
“I beg your pardon, but don’t tell me you truly think you just communicated with the man.”
“I certainly did.” She scooted to the edge of the bench, ready to spoon the broth into his father’s mouth.
“Don’t worry, Mister Rollo,” she told him, “I’ll see to it you get something better to eat. If I have to mush it up myself.
Yuck
,” she added with a shudder. “You must be sick of this slop.”
Yuck
,” she added with a shudder. “You must be sick of this slop.”
“So the man shuts his eyes for a moment, and you think you’re having a heartfelt chat? If so, you’d best be informed that ‘Mister’ is definitely not the chosen form of address for my father.” Will chuckled, and Felicity was torn as to whether she was more annoyed by him, or charmed by that sexy little laugh.
Deciding to ignore him altogether, Felicity squared her shoulders. “Your son doesn’t think we’re communicating. That means he won’t mind if we talk about
him
. So tell me, Mister Rollo . . . you don’t mind if I call you
Mister
Rollo, do you?”
him
. So tell me, Mister Rollo . . . you don’t mind if I call you
Mister
Rollo, do you?”
He blinked twice in quick succession, and Felicity shot Rollo a victorious look.
“Tell me, did Will ever have a girlfriend?”
Rollo made a choking sound, and his father gave two short blinks.
“I find that shocking,” she said innocently. “Don’t you?”
One blink.
“He is, after all, a fairly decent-looking man, objectively speaking.”
A long pause followed finally by a brief blink.
Felicity snickered. “I mean, you’d think the guy would provide you with some grandkids.”
Another blink.
“I know he’s all hung up about his legs, but methinks the loins are still operational—”
“Good Lord, woman,” Will exclaimed.
His father’s eyes grew very round.
And then Rollo laughed, from deep in his belly, and she flushed warm with the sound of it.
“That is quite . . .” He shook his head in awe. “Nay, Felicity,
you
.
You
are quite something. I dare say, you’ve proved your point.”
you
.
You
are quite something. I dare say, you’ve proved your point.”
“Thank you,” she said primly, and resumed spooning the broth into the man’s mouth.
“You know, Will.” She sat back, watching as his father swallowed. “If he has enough muscle control to swallow, he can probably speak again.”
Will didn’t respond, and so she turned to catch him staring at her in silence.
“Truly?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. I think so.” She shrugged. “I make no promises. But from what little I know . . . I think that’s how it works.”
“To be given back my father . . .” Will locked eyes with him. Tears hovered in the older man’s eyes. “Can you truly understand?” he asked him.
His father blinked once, and moisture spilled down his cheeks.
“Och, man.” He stood, gripping his father firmly on the shoulder. He stayed there, hand clasped tight. “All this time . . .”
“You’re so lucky,” Felicity mused gently. “I lost my father. I’m glad for you, Will. So glad you’re getting a second chance with yours.”
Rollo pinned her with a searing glance, and she wondered if he weren’t seeing her, truly seeing the real her, for the first time.
“Aye. I have my father returned to me.” He leaned over, brushing a kiss on the top of her head. “And it’s all because of you.”
“You’re welcome.” She raised her brows impishly. “That was a thank-you, right?”
“Indeed.” Her mischievous ways startled him, delighted him. Stretching out his hand, he had the strange compulsion to play along. “Now, come.”
“Well, then! Excuse us, please, Mister Rollo,” she said smiling and taking Will’s hand. With a tilt of her head, she asked, “Are you taking me somewhere to show me your appreciation?”
He paled, sparing a quick glance at his father. “No, I’m taking you for a turn around the garden.” Pitching his voice lower, he added, “Believing as I do that my father has heard quite enough for one afternoon.”
He led them toward one of the garden’s many flower-beds.
“Will you be regaling me with praise as we go? Like, how wrong you were not to believe me. How talented, how brilliant—”
“Och, woman. Enough.” He chuckled, adding his own silent litany.
How beautiful, how adorable, how luscious . . .
He leaned down and, pulling the
sgian dubh
from where it was tucked at his calf, cut a small handful of blooms that had taken root amidst the decorative paving stones.
How beautiful, how adorable, how luscious . . .
He leaned down and, pulling the
sgian dubh
from where it was tucked at his calf, cut a small handful of blooms that had taken root amidst the decorative paving stones.
“Don’t think you can change the subject with that sexy James Bond sock knife of yours,” she told him.
“Would you still that tongue for but one moment?”
“What’s that about my tongue, William Rollo?” she countered with a purr in her voice.
His unruly cock stirred in response.
“
Ist
,” he whispered, standing and stepping toward her. He moved slowly, and in the four paces to her side, he felt his heart drift from lighthearted, to focused, to somber.
Ist
,” he whispered, standing and stepping toward her. He moved slowly, and in the four paces to her side, he felt his heart drift from lighthearted, to focused, to somber.
Her face stilled to see the handful of humble flowers he’d plucked for her. Bright blue blooms atop long, thin stems. He felt suddenly nervous.
“Harebells,” he told her, placing the posy in her hand. “My favorite. Always so sunny and upright.” He tucked a loose bit of hair behind her ear, thinking he could as easily be describing Felicity as those flowers. “A tenacious wee blossom, just like you.”
“Oh, Will. They’re lovely.” She brought them to her nose, even though he knew they held not much scent beyond the freshness of green and sky. “Just perfect.”
She seemed at a loss for words, and the thought that he might have caught her off guard was surprisingly, deeply gratifying.
“They suit you.” He wondered at the ease he’d found with her, this newfound comfort that had loosened his tongue, giving him words enough to quiet one like Felicity. Cupping her cheek, he lay a chaste kiss on her forehead. “My wildest wee blossom of all.”
“Too bad my eyes aren’t blue to match,” she said with an awkward laugh.
“Your eyes . . .” He took her chin, tilted her face to his. “Never have I seen such expressive eyes. Lush and brown. Rich like the earth, like the trees. Beautiful beside your hair, yellow as the sun. Nay, Felicity, your eyes are just right.”
He saw tears shimmering in those eyes, and the sight stabbed him. “But whatever is the matter?” He gave her a gentle smile. “Should I have picked you some fine roses instead?”
“Oh no. I’m definitely not a roses girl. I . . .” She was quiet for a moment, studying the posy in her hand, and he was pleased to have moved her so. “Thank you,” she said finally.
She gave him a shy smile. “See, you say you’re not the chivalrous knight in shining armor, but I knew you would be.”
“No, lass, I said I wasn’t a Viking.” He tenderly kissed the moisture from the corner of each eye. “I am, however, most pleased to settle for knight.”
A bright, loud laugh burst from her, such a joyful feminine sound, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. And the feel of it filled him, expanded him. So many years without joy, to laugh with this woman was intoxicating. A revelation, a rapture.
A gift without price.
“I see,” Robertson whispered. They watched from afar, through a break in the hedgerow. The minister trembled with some heightened emotion. “To speak so with your imbecilic father . . .”
“Aye,” Jamie said. His father, communicating? He couldn’t believe it. But still . . . he fought off a peculiar, discomfiting feeling.
“The physicians claim it was a spell,” Jamie continued with a stiffened mouth. “But I believe it was evil spirits that overran my father’s body. Dark demons, which rendered him mute. His eyes waver madly now, from the visions they sow in his head. Only a witch would converse with such a man.”
“So I see,” the minister said again.
And Jamie watched as Robertson’s face froze into a mask. Of alarm. Of shock. And a flicker of elation.
Chapter 17
Rollo’s gaze clung to the sight of Felicity on the path ahead of him. They walked among the precisely manicured hedges and stone statuary of his family’s formal gardens, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
More specifically, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the sight of her hips, swaying back and forth beneath all the godforsaken layers of fabric that hid her curves from him.
He didn’t know what he was doing. He needed to be paying mind to Jamie, trying to figure out what, exactly, the knave was about.
Or tending to his father, trying to connect with the man. Will had dozens of questions for him. To discover that he’d been in there, cognizant, all this time? It gave him a chill.
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