Marshal and the Heiress (13 page)

Ben warned himself not to respond to her smile. There was too much he didn't know about her. He couldn't afford to lower his guard.
Remember another warm smile,
a voice in his head admonished.
And the betrayal that followed.

He had held women at arm's length ever since, even Sarah Ann's mother, although Mary May had started to breach his defenses before she died. But, then, she had wanted nothing from him.

He wasn't so sure of Lisbeth Hamilton.

“I think I may know of exactly the one,” the blacksmith said, turning to Lisbeth. “Mary Godwin has outgrown her pony. John brought in her new horse to be shod.”

Ben looked at Lisbeth in question.

“They live on the edge of town. He's the doctor.”

“Can we go now?” Sarah Ann asked.

“I see no reason why not,” Ben said. He turned to the blacksmith. “Do you have a good riding horse for sale?”

It was Lisbeth who answered. “You can use any mount at Calholm.”

“I would prefer my own,” Ben replied. He knew he sounded stiff, but he didn't want anything from the Hamilton family. He was here because of Sarah Ann, and he wasn't going to take a thing he hadn't earned.

Surprise flittered across Lisbeth's face, and he realized instantly that she had believed, as Hugh Hamilton did, that he was using Sarah Ann to benefit himself.

Ben returned his attention to the blacksmith.

“Aye, I know of a few animals that might suit ye,” MacEver said, eyeing him carefully. “Ye look like ye know horses.”

“A little.” He ignored the eyebrow that Lisbeth raised.

“Ye like a spirited beast?”

“Let's say a good one,” he said.

“I 'ave two for sale, but neither compare to those at Calholm.”

Ben said, steadily, “I don't need a jumper.”

“Then ye be welcome to take a look.”

Ben lowered Sarah Ann to the ground and dismounted, then followed the blacksmith into the stone barn. The two horses for sale were adequate. The blacksmith was correct—neither measured up to the horse he was riding or the others at Calholm. But then he didn't plan to be in Scotland long enough to need a truly fine animal. He chose a steady-eyed bay.

“His name is Bailey,” the blacksmith said, “and he's a fair horse. Do ye be wanting to take him now?”

Ben shook his head. “I would be grateful if you could send him to Calholm.”

The blacksmith looked at Lisbeth. She nodded, and Ben felt even more of an outsider. Calholm wasn't his home, would never be his home.

But could it be Sarah Ann's? And could he ever let her go, even for her own good?

Any pony would have been acceptable. Lisbeth realized that long before Sarah Ann met Peppermint. But Peppermint was as perfect as a pony could be. He was a dandy fellow, white and dignified and well mannered, standing quite still as he was inspected. Love was instant and mutual.

Actually, Peppermint was not Peppermint before introductions. But Sarah Ann immediately renamed the snow-white pony from Prince to the name of her favorite candy. Peppermint apparently approved. The pony nuzzled his new mistress at first sight, and when Ben Masters lifted Sarah Ann onto the pony's back, Peppermint stepped carefully and proudly around the small fenced paddock.

“The young lass has a way with horses,” Dr. John Godwin said happily.

“She has a way with all animals,” Ben said.

Lisbeth heard the affection in his voice and couldn't help thinking of her own child. If only the bairn had lived … But she'd lost it before it could take even a first breath.

Lisbeth pushed those memories away and concentrated on Masters and Sarah Ann. While he studied the pony with knowing hands, the girl stood nearby, practically prancing with delight. “Can we take him now?” she pleaded.

“Do you mind?” he asked Lisbeth. “Will your jumpers welcome this little one?”

“They tolerate Henry,” she replied. “I think Peppermint will make a fine stable mate.”

“Then it's done,” he told the doctor. “Do you have a saddle?”

“Aye,” the doctor said. “My daughter's. She's outgrown it, just as she's outgrown Prince. She'll be well pleased to know he's found a good home.”

“The pony will be feasting on carrots and apples all the day if this one has anything to do with it,” Ben said with an affectionate glance at Sarah Ann.

The pony nuzzled his new mistress. “Annabelle will like him, too,” Sarah Ann said.

A rueful look passed over Ben's face. “I wouldn't be so sure of that, Sugarplum.”

“You'll see,” Sarah Ann countered confidently.

“Aye,” he said. “Perhaps we will.”

The Scottish word sounded fine on his tongue, Lisbeth thought. She felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine, then a pang twist in her heart. She wished for a fleeting second that someone—anyone—had been as kind to her as Masters was to Sarah Ann. God's toothache but this American stranger affected her in strange and unwanted ways. Or were they unwanted?

Masters counted out some pound notes, then turned to her. “May I help you mount?”

She wished she didn't need his help, but the bloody sidesaddle almost required it. She didn't want him to touch her, not now, not when she was so confused by her reaction to him. Her worst fears were realized when his hand took her gloved one, and heat radiated between them. His fingers lingered on hers a moment and a flash of surprise crossed his face before he released her.

“Can I ride the pony?” Sarah Ann asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “I think you need a few lessons first.”

“But Pep'mint will be dis'pointed.”

“He'll just have to suffer through it,” he said.

“But—”

“But you have to get used to each other,” Lisbeth interceded, noting Ben's suddenly helpless look. There was something vulnerable—and attractive—about such a big man being made to feel helpless by such a small child.

“I already love him,” Sarah Ann protested.

One of Ben's eyebrows arched upward as if to challenge Lisbeth to answer
that
one.

“But what about Peppermint?” Lisbeth said carefully. “He's going to a new home, and he's probably a wee bit frightened.”

“Like me?” Sarah Ann's face showed great concern for the pony.

“I know it must have been fearsome, coming to a new country,” Lisbeth continued, “but it wasn't so bad when you got here, was it? But you didn't know that. And neither does Peppermint.”

“Poor Pep'mint,” Sarah Ann said, her eyes large with understanding. “I'll have to love him extra much.”

Lisbeth wanted to clutch Sarah Ann to her breast, hold her tight. She knew the kind of uncertainty Sarah Ann must feel. She knew how hard and how frightening it was to hold it all inside.

Ben gave her a glance of approval, and Lisbeth felt as if someone had handed her a star plucked from the sky.

“And now, I think we best be on our way,” he said.

Dr. Godwin disappeared and returned with a saddle and bridle, both of which he put on the pony. Ben prepared a lead, then lifted Sarah Ann to his own horse and mounted behind her. Sarah Ann leaned over to look adoringly at her new acquisition.

Lisbeth herself had yearned for a pony as a child, for a pet of any kind. For anything to love. She had Henry now. And Shadow and the other horses.

And a child? Perhaps, if Sarah Ann could learn to love her …

And Sarah Ann's father? What did she want from him? A partnership, certainly. But as for anything more … she simply didn't know.

Lisbeth did know she didn't want to be like Barbara, who jumped from bed to bed, allowing herself to be used over and over again. As a widow, Lisbeth had a degree of independence and she was loath to give it up for any man.

If only she weren't so intrigued by Ben Masters. If only she could stop thinking about their midnight encounter. If only her hand didn't still burn from his touch.

Barbara watched the drive through the window. What could be taking the American and Lisbeth so long? Surely he wasn't attracted to Lisbeth. The possibility kept nibbling at her mind.

She felt Hugh's presence behind her, his anger, and she turned to face him. He didn't understand that what she was doing was for both of them.

“Still watching for that ruffian,” he said bitterly.

“I simply don't want Lisbeth to poison him against us.”

“Is that why you're going to Edinburgh with him?”

She put a hand on his fine linen shirt. “It's important to both of us that we know what he plans to do.”

“Bloody savage,” Hugh said. “Why couldn't Ian and his get have stayed lost?”

“Well, they didn't,” Barbara said. “But if we can prove he's a charlatan, that she might not be Ian's child—”

“I checked his room,” Hugh said. “I couldn't find anything about him.” He was quiet a moment, then added softly, “I did find a gun.”

“A gun?”

“It looks used,” Hugh said. “
Well
used.”

Barbara looked at him. “I sensed something … dangerous about him.”

“He's no mere solicitor,” Hugh said. “I would stake my life on it.”

“You stake too much on too little,” she retorted. “That's why you've lost so much.”

“But not everything,” he said suggestively, putting his hand to her breast.

She moaned slightly, instantly aroused. He always did that to her. She had loved him ever since he'd come to Calholm two years ago. He had stirred her blood as no man had before, not even Hamish, and their love had seemed so right, so fitting. But he had nothing if he didn't inherit Calholm, and she knew both of them couldn't live off her allowance—nor did she think his pride would allow it. Hugh knew sheep-raising and husbandry, but his reputation as a gambler and rake had made it difficult for him to find a position. His prospects had brightened only with Jamie Hamilton's death. No one had ever believed Ian could be located after ten years of silence.

Now he was back to where he'd been two years ago—with sizable debts and not a pound to his name, even though he'd managed Calholm's acres for the past two years, and had done well at it. He had taken pride in enlarging the flock of sheep and improving its quality. He could have done even more if Lisbeth and Alistair had not been so obstructive.

And now an American and a small child would take it away.

Barbara cursed the fates as Hugh held her. She would still try to help him inherit. And if that meant using her charms to seduce the American, then she would do it.

There was a clatter beneath the window, and Barbara moved away from Hugh's embrace toward the panes of glass. Looking down, she saw Lisbeth and the American, Sarah Ann seated with him on his horse, ride in toward the stables, a pony in tow. Bloody hell. She'd thought to woo the child with clothes; Lisbeth, who thought of nothing but horses, had apparently judged their small guest better than she.

But there was tomorrow, and there was Edinburgh, and she'd always been able to charm babes as well as men. The American and the girl would forget Lisbeth existed. She would make sure of it.

Barbara watched as Lisbeth waited for Masters to dismount and help her down. Lisbeth was smarter than she used to be, Barbara thought with no little malice.

With growing apprehension, she noted that the American held Lisbeth's hand a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Then, he lifted down the child, who immediately ran to the pony. Lisbeth said a few words to the American, then turned toward the manor.

Masters stayed at the barn with the child, stooping down next to her as Sarah Ann stroked the pony's neck.

Barbara gave Hugh a quick kiss before whirling toward the mirror to check her hair. She would stop by the kitchen for sugar, then go to welcome the pony.

Chapter Eight

Ben hadn't seen Sarah Ann so happy in a long while. Joy exuded from her as she proudly rode the pony for the first time. More days like this and she wouldn't need that scarf wrapped around her neck.

She finished her first riding lesson, and Ben was showing her how to brush the pony, when Barbara Hamilton appeared in a violet dress and matching coat that nearly took his breath away.

Barbara was perfect, too perfect for his taste, and he recognized the time spent in polishing that surface. Every hair was in place; the face paint was subtle but artfully designed to emphasize the violet eyes and ivory complexion. Her voice was moderated, as if she practiced every morning; she'd rid herself almost entirely of the Scottish burr that he enjoyed hearing so much in Lisbeth's speech.

Why did Barbara remind him so much of his fiancée, the woman who had urged him into battle, then deserted him the moment she thought he was crippled?

Barbara came bearing gifts—an apple and a rock of sugar for the new pony.

“That's a lovely pony,” she told Sarah Ann.

“His name is Pep'mint,” Sarah Ann proclaimed proudly, “and he's the most splen'id pony anyplace.”

“I can see that,” Barbara said. “I saw you riding him. You rode very well.”

Sarah Ann eyed Lady Barbara carefully, and Ben knew she hadn't quite made up her mind about her. She had decided she liked Lisbeth, mainly, Ben suspected, because she'd helped find Peppermint.

“You can give that apple to him,” Sarah Ann said, eyeing the treats enviously.

“I think it would be better if you did,” Barbara said.

Had she said that out of generosity or reluctance to get her silk gloves dirty? Ben decided he didn't care when another smile spread over his daughter's face. She took the apple and held it out to Peppermint, who daintily took a bite, then another.

“Thank you,” she said to Barbara in her most polite grown-up manner.

After consuming the apple, the pony nuzzled her again, evidently sensing the rock of sugar.

“Greedy little animal,” Ben said affectionately, and Sarah Ann nodded sagely.