The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae (25 page)

He glanced at her face. “Not queasy?”

She looked up at him, smiled, and shook her head. “Mind you, I've never been on such open water before—it's much rougher than the Solent, at least during summer, and that's the largest stretch of water I've been on. Then again, we're not going that far.” Raising a hand, she pointed ahead. “At least, if that's the other side?”

Dominic glanced ahead. “Yes, that's Fife. The ferry runs here because it's by far the narrowest part of the firth.”

Overhead, seagulls wheeled, raucously cawing. The wind strengthened, bringing with it the scent of the open sea. Together they remained by the railing and watched as the opposite shore drew nearer.

Several times, Dominic checked her face, her expression, for any signs of malaise, but she remained unperturbed, unconcerned, caught up in enjoying the moment, the adventure. The third time he looked, he caught himself, realized why he was looking, checking. Why he was standing as he was, with her literally within his protection.

Facing forward, he waited for some inner recoil, some instinctive resistance to his changed focus . . . instead, all his instincts remained in accord over how he was dealing with and reacting to her, as if accepting as natural that his well-being should now be contingent on hers.

After several long moments of dwelling on that, he shook aside the distraction. He'd never been attached to anyone else as he now was to her; doubtless he'd grow used to the ramifications.

J
ust over an hour later, they landed at North Queensferry. Walking off the pier and halting beside Dominic as they waited for Jessup and Thomas to bring their horses, Angelica looked around in some surprise. “It's barely a hamlet.”

Dominic, who'd been watching Jessup lead Hercules off the ferry, glanced at her, then turned and surveyed the scattered roofs lining the road north. “People rarely stop here, not overnight. Everyone off the ferry is on their way somewhere else, just passing through. However, there are several taverns that serve excellent lunches. We'll stop at one before riding on.”

Jessup and the others arrived with the horses; remounting and forming up once more, they clattered up the street.

Dominic halted at the second of the three taverns the town boasted. The Wayfarer's Halt had fed him many times; he felt confident their food would pass muster. Dismounting, he handed Jessup his reins, then lifted a waiting Angelica down. While Jessup and Thomas led the horses to the yard behind the inn, with Angelica on his arm, he led the rest of their party into the tavern.

The tavern keeper, Cartwright, looked up from behind the bar, then smiled hugely and came hurrying forward. “A pleasure to see you again, my lord.” Halting, Cartwright's eyes went to Angelica, rounded a trifle in surprise, then he bowed and looked inquiringly at Dominic.

“Good morning, Cartwright. I know it's early, but we require a full luncheon, in the parlor for myself and the lady, and at a table here for my people.” Dominic glanced at Brenda, Mulley, and Griswold, who had followed him and Angelica in. “Jessup and my groom are stabling our horses and will be joining the others.”

Cartwright beamed. “Of course, my lord. Your people are welcome to take the big table in the window, or the one closer to the fire if they prefer. And if you and the lady will come this way . . .” Bowing several times, Cartwright ushered Dominic and Angelica into a parlor overlooking a small garden. “Very quiet and private, you'll find it.” Cartwright, his gaze, a little dazed, fixed on Angelica, backed toward the door. “I'll send the missus in to lay the table.”

“Thank you.” Dominic dismissed Cartwright with a wave, then drew out a chair at the round table for Angelica.

Her gaze on the closing door, she sat. The instant the latch fell, she looked at him. “I just realized. Me not wearing my disguise might be a mistake. I hadn't thought of it, but clearly I'm going to attract attention—people will remember I passed this way.”

Drawing out the chair opposite hers, he looked down at her and couldn't fault Cartwright, or the other three patrons in the main room, for staring. It wasn't often that a lady of her quality graced their lives. He sat and shook his head. “I thought of it, but on balance it's preferable that you appear as you are.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because as you just saw, I'm well known along this road. I might not have been to London for years, but I travel to Edinburgh at least six times a year.”

“Ah—which is why the Edinburgh house is in such excellent state.”

“And the closer we get to the castle, the more well known I become, so trying to pass you off as my charge, a charge I'll be sharing a bed with, will raise more talk than the notion I've brought my countess-to-be home and happen to be sharing her bed. And once we're married, you'll be traveling this road frequently, too, so how you appear now will fix your status in the innkeepers' minds—”

“And me appearing dressed as a lad, which might very well not pass undetected in such circumstances, would not be a good way to start my rule as Countess of Glencrae.”

“Exactly. However, to ease your concern that your appearance along the road might lead your brothers and cousins to the castle gates, while I feel safe in guaranteeing that no one who sees you is likely to forget you, I'm even more confident that, were your cousin St. Ives to walk through the door in the next minute and ask Cartwright if he'd seen a lady with red-gold hair”—he glanced at her crowning glory—“Cartwright and the other patrons out there would deny having seen any such being.”

Angelica searched his eyes, but could see only the confidence he claimed. She widened her eyes in query. “Because Devil's English?” When he nodded, she frowned. “How can you—they—tell? You could be English—you fooled me and, apparently, all of the ton.”

“I pass for English easily enough south of the border, even perhaps south of Edinburgh. North of Edinburgh, however, not only am I known, but”—he shrugged—“I've never been taken for anything other than Scottish, and a highlander at that.”

“Hmm. Richard said that the men at the tavern at Carsphairn—the ones you asked about the manor—identified you as a highlander, without question.”

“They were Scottish, and I wanted information. I didn't try to hide what I am.”

“But your accent doesn't change.”

He waggled a hand. “Not that much—no big, obvious change in my diction—but it's enough for anyone Scots to know I'm one, too.”

The latch lifted and the door swung inward to admit a bustling woman carrying a tray. She bobbed a curtsy to Dominic, then to Angelica. “Lovely to see you again, m'lord. M'lady. I'll just set the table, and my girls will be in with the platters momentarily.”

While quickly setting plates and cutlery on the table, Mrs. Cartwright constantly glanced at Angelica, open curiosity in her gaze. Angelica caught it and smiled; the woman blushed and set down the salt cellar. Lifting her empty tray, she held it to her bosom. “Can we get you anything to drink, m'lord?” She dipped her head to Angelica. “M'lady?”

Dominic looked at Angelica. “An ale for me. And . . . ?”

She hesitated, then asked Mrs. Cartwright, “Perhaps you make some wine?”

“I've got a nice perry, m'lady, if that would suit?”

“That will do nicely.”

When the door closed behind the innwife, Angelica looked at Dominic. He returned her gaze, then they both smiled.

The door opened again and three girls carried in platters and covered dishes. Within minutes, an array of food was displayed upon the table.

“Mmm.” Angelica breathed in. “So many delicious smells.”

The girls, who had been surreptitiously staring at her, smiled shyly. They bobbed and withdrew.

With a wave, Dominic invited Angelica to make her selection. She did. Mrs. Cartwright arrived with their drinks, set them down, preened when Angelica complimented her on the fare, then curtsied and left them.

Angelica sampled everything she didn't recognize. While they ate, she quizzed Dominic about the dishes, and whether there were local delicacies she was likely to be served at the castle. As she'd expected, he was well versed on the subject of food.

The meal concluded, he was eager to get back on the road. “It's four hours and more to Perth.” Rising, tucking his fob watch back into his waistcoat pocket, he circled the table to draw out her chair. “It's only just one o'clock, but I'd prefer to be certain of reaching there in full daylight.”

What he meant, she surmised, was that he would rather she wasn't riding a horse she didn't yet know, over roads she didn't know, once the light started fading, but she had no real argument with that. Rising, she picked up her gloves. “I have to admit it's been months since I rode any great distance, so leaving now and taking our time will undoubtedly be wise.”

He stilled. His eyes locked on hers, then he searched her face. “Are you . . . all right?”

For a moment, she stared up at him blankly, then understanding dawned.

He grimaced. “I didn't think to ask—”

Gripping his lapel, stretching onto her toes, she silenced him by brushing her lips over his. As she sank back, she murmured, “I'm perfectly all right.” Looking into his eyes, she smiled. “It's nice of you to think of it, but I'm very well indeed.” She emphasized the last three words. When he still seemed unconvinced—still worried over whether, courtesy of their night's activities, she was too sore to ride—she patted his lapel and turned toward the door. “Truly, in that respect, I feel utterly wonderful.” She arched a brow at him. “In extremely fine fettle, in fact.”

When he didn't move, but continued looking down at her with a still considering but somewhat different light in his eyes, she couldn't stop herself from smiling even more delightedly. She raised her brow higher. “Perth, my lord? Or . . . ?”

He actually debated it, but then snorted and waved her to the door. “Perth, my lady.” He held the door for her. As she passed him, he murmured, “The rest can come later.”

She had to fight to dim her smile as she walked out into the main room.

They gathered the rest of their party. While Dominic settled with Cartwright, Jessup and Thomas left to fetch the horses. Angelica followed them out of the front door. Jessup and Thomas headed down the alley to the rear yard. Halting on the narrow front step, she turned to look back down the road to the firth.

Just as three riders trotted up from the ferry.

Three aspiring bloods was her immediate assessment, borne out when, seeing her, the three drew rein, setting their showy mounts prancing and dancing.

All three raked her with too-familiar gazes.

“Well, well,” the nearest drawled, “what have we here?”

Viewing them with mild amusement, she debated her answer.

The nearest rogue took her pause as encouragement. He wheeled his horse nearer. “Come along, sweetling—I can't imagine what you're doing in such a place, but you'd be very much better off coming with us . . .”

She knew Dominic had arrived when the rogue's gaze went past her, then rose, and rose, to fix above her head.

Watching the younger man's face, she wished she could turn to see what Dominic's expression looked like, but even she could feel the palpable aura of sheer menace that reached for the hapless gentleman before her.

“Are these . . . gentlemen disturbing you, my dear?” Winter ice was warmer than her husband-to-be's tone.

She considered—saw the younger men swallow—then shook her head. “No. I believe they were just passing.”

A pause, then, “Is that so?”

All three horsemen nodded. The nearest tried to speak, had to clear his throat and try again. “We'll . . . er, be off then.”

With that, the three took off like the hounds of hell were after them. One hound, at least.

Amused, Angelica watched the trio disappear up the road.

Hauling back and restraining the possessive highlander he truly was behind his more civilized shields, Dominic waited for her to comment on what she was sure to have seen as an overreaction to three patently silly whelps.

Jessup and Thomas came around the corner leading the horses. The others stepped out of the inn.

Angelica finally turned. Lips curved, she shot him an openly appreciative glance, then swept up her heavy trailing skirt preparatory to stepping down to the street.

He grasped her hand, stepped down, and steadied her to the roadway. He released her, but, unable to help himself, set his hand to the back of her waist as he escorted her to her mount, then he lifted her to the saddle.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He could see nothing but approval in her green-and-gold eyes. With a nod, he turned, caught Hercules's reins, set his boot in the stirrup and swung up to the saddle, then wheeled the big chestnut up the road.

She brought her flighty black alongside. As they trotted out of the hamlet, she said, “I've been thinking of what I should call this fine girl.” She patted the horse's sleek neck. “I haven't yet discovered anything suitable. Is there a female version of ‘hellion'?”

Angelica
. “I don't know. How about ‘Buttercup'?”

She laughed. “I'm serious. I need something appropriate.”

He thought. “ ‘Black Lightning'?”

They headed north, trading names.

T
hey rode steadily on, past Kelty and on toward Loch Leven. Dominic held the pace to a canter overall; they didn't need to rush along this stretch, and he wanted to allow Angelica time to settle with her new mount. Initially frisky, the black filly, now glorying in the name of Ebony, grew increasingly accepting, increasingly responsive to Angelica's hand on the reins. By the time they saw the gray waters of the loch ahead, his attention had lost its honed edge.