My Laird's Love (My Laird's Castle Book 2) (8 page)

Tears streamed down my face. A solution so close, and yet so far. I shook my head and clung to her as my vision blurred.

“No, I guess not.”

I felt so distant from Sam now. Why had I agreed to stay?

A pair of dark-lashed teal-blue eyes popped into my mind, and I ignored the image. The last thing I needed was the emotional baggage of falling in love with a man who lived in the eighteenth century, especially a confirmed bachelor of some sort who wasn’t afraid to use his charismatic charm. Why had I stayed?

Chapter Seven

We set out in the wagon for James’ home at about two o’clock the following afternoon. Colin had said we would reach James’ place in about two hours.

After more than an hour of traveling, I summoned the courage to question Colin about James. He seemed ready enough to offer information. Beth, sitting on the buckboard between us, dozed against his arm.

“Is James part of your clan?” I asked.

Colin chuckled at this. “Nay, James and I arna kin. James is a Livingstone. I am an Anderson. James’ mother, Lady Heather, was a Ross. After Culloden, James lost the Livingstone lands, including the family home. He is verra fortunate that he didna lose his life. Many did, even long after the battle was over. James joined the Jacobites at Culloden, though he took no clansmen with him. He fought alongside the MacLeas, his kinsmen.
 

“James survived the battle, and the Duke of Cumberland thought it quaint that a baronet should play the bagpipe. So he was spared, but his lands and home in the north were forfeit. Fortunately for him, the Crown didna also take his mother’s ancestral home, Castle Lochloon. He retired there. He hasna much land to speak of, but he does have the house...and a good part of the loch.”

“The loch?” I asked, trying to absorb all this information. Colin had used a lot of names. I was lost. We had left the river behind long ago and passed through the valley. The wagon now ambled along the shoreline of a lovely little lake surrounded by soft green hills.

“Aye, Loch Loon. That is Loch Loon.” Colin nodded toward the lake.
 

So, we were near James’ place. My heart skipped a beat as I studied the loch. No breeze disturbed the stillness of the water, and the surface glistened like a shimmering mirror, reflecting the hills surrounding the lake. A tiny little island, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, jutted out in the middle of the lake. A beautiful old stone building perched on the highest point of the island. Two castellated towers flanked the otherwise square four-story structure. Unlike Colin’s home, the island supported no parkland or forest and consisted only of the tower house with a minute emerald-green lawn at its base.

“Is that James’ home?” I asked.

“Yes,” Beth chimed in, waking up. “Isn’t it cute? That’s Castle Lochloon.”

I studied the castle and the island. “How are we supposed to get there?” I asked.

“By boat today, I guess. There are a couple of ways to get there, depending on the tide. If the tide is out, we can drive the wagon over a manmade causeway of crushed rock to get to the island. If the tide is in, which I think it is, we have to take a boat over. Either way, James has a man who will take us over in the boat. He also takes care of the horses and the wagon.”

“Wow!” I said.

I returned my gaze to the mystical little island near the middle of the lake.
 

“Why did they build a castle in the middle of the loch? For protection?”

“Aye,” Colin answered. “Many of the clans have a reputation for fighting with their neighbors, and it was common to build homes on land that was easy to defend. The Rosses have had their enemies.”

Colin maneuvered the wagon off the path and stopped the horses between two buildings—a small cabin and another building that looked like a stable. He helped us climb down as a bearded middle-aged man wearing gray trousers, a dark-brown jacket and a tam emerged from the cabin to take control of the horses.
 

“Thank ye, Duncan,” Colin said. “I hope ye and yer lad are well?”

“Aye, yer lairdship,” Duncan said, pulling his hat from his head. “The lad will take ye over.” He nodded toward a teenage boy who stood, tam in hand, waiting by a small white skiff. I looked down at my voluminous hooped skirt and wondered how on earth Beth and I were supposed to fit into the small boat.
 

Somehow, fit we did with Colin’s help, and the boy pushed the boat away from the shore. A ruddy-faced gangly young man who obviously spent a lot of time outdoors, he handled the oars with experience, and the trip took only about ten minutes.
 

I hitched up my skirts and climbed out of the boat as awkwardly as I had climbed in, ignoring the wide eyes of the teenaged boy.

Beth laughed, managing her skirts with a little more dignity than I.

“Ye have shocked the lad, I fear,” a familiar voice said behind me. I swung around to see James approaching, a smile on his face. Robbie trotted along happily at his side. James took my hand and bent over it. The touch of his lips on the back of my hand sent electric waves through me, and I jerked.
 

James dropped my hand almost immediately and straightened.

“Forgive me,” he said softly. “I meant naethin more than a courtly gesture.”

“No, I’m fine. I just...” I didn’t know what to say, and I turned as Beth and Colin joined us. Beth hugged James, something I couldn’t do. Robbie busied himself greeting everyone.

“Aunt Edith has been beside herself with excitement to hear we are to have visitors for supper,” James said, turning from me. At his words, a small woman hurried down a set of stone stairs that flanked the base of the castle. A white lace cap bobbed as she made her way to the rocky beach.
 

“Welcome, welcome!” she said. “We are so pleased to have ye to supper. Why my nephew has not invited ye above two times this year is beyond me. And ye must be Mistress Scott?” she asked. White hair peeked out from under her cap. Plump and petite in stature, her cheeks glowed rosy. Blue eyes sparkled as she grabbed my hands.

“Maggie, please,” I said. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“James has done naethin but speak of ye since he came home yesterday,” she said.
 

I blinked and looked at James, who looked skyward. I followed his eyes but saw nothing.
 

Beth grinned, as did Colin, but they remained silent.

“Come! Come into the house,” Aunt Edith said. She pulled me along with her, and with my free hand, I had to grab a bunch of hem to keep from tripping on the rocks and then on the stairs as we climbed up to the castle.

The stairs ended at a rounded arch in the stark stone wall, and I could see that breaching the castle from the beach was impossible. There were few toeholds, even less window casements, and almost no way of climbing the walls. The arch was the only entry into what appeared to be a large square building surrounding a small cobbled courtyard. Across the courtyard, I saw something that resembled stables and realized there must be another larger entrance on the other side of the castle, where horses could enter. I supposed Black was stabled in there now.

Aunt Edith led the way up a small set of stone steps through another arched doorway featuring a massively thick oak door that now stood open. We followed her a few steps down a narrow hallway and stepped into a small room delightfully decorated in tones of green and gold. Tapestries warmed the walls, as did several pastoral prints. A highly polished oak mantel dominated the fireplace.

“Come in. Come in,” she urged. She led us to a dark-green brocade sofa and some matching chairs that were positioned in a conversational setting in front of a crackling fire.

“I ken it is late spring and all,” she said, “but the castle is a wee bit chilly today. I thought ye might be pleased of a fire. Do ye care for some tea? Supper isna for several hours yet.”

Beth and I lowered ourselves to the sofa, and Colin took one of the chairs. James stood by and watched as Aunt Edith settled us to her satisfaction.
 

“Yes, thank you. That would be lovely,” Beth said.
 

“Most welcome,” Colin agreed.

Aunt Edith moved to a silk bellpull at the side of the fireplace and rang the bell. She took a seat in one of the chairs and asked us about the journey while we waited for tea.

The tea came promptly and was served by an older man who I assumed was their butler, and a tall, young blonde serving girl. She set the tray down on a table in front of the sofa.

“Thank ye, Morna. I will serve the tea,” Aunt Edith said.

I tried to keep my eyes from James, but I couldn’t help watching as he found a seat across from Colin, Robbie nestling down at his feet. James caught my eye and smiled politely, but his blue gaze held no note of personal recognition, no emotion of any sort.
 

Why had I stayed?

The butler and Morna disappeared, and Aunt Edith served tea in surprisingly delicate china that looked as if it belonged in the drawing rooms of Georgian England rather than the wilds of the Highlands.

“Such a beautiful pattern,” I said.
 

“Thank ye,” Aunt Edith said, her cheeks coloring with pleasure. “It was given to me on my wedding. It comes from France. I brought it with me when I came back to Castle Lochloon to be with my sister after my husband died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said.

She shook her head and grinned. “No need. I am sure he is wi the devil now. But I have the china.”

I blinked and looked at Beth, who chuckled.

“My late uncle was a bit of a tyrant,” James said, his own cheeks bronzing at his aunt’s blunt speech. Yet, while he looked embarrassed, he regarded his aunt with affection. And who wouldn’t? She was a little white-haired kewpie doll, albeit an outspoken one.

“Aye, ye might say that. Mr. Carmichael is buried in Glasgow. I stayed on to act as housekeeper for James.”

I nodded but decided to remain silent. I had no idea how people in eighteenth-century Scotland addressed the topics of death, and I didn’t want to say something odd. I assumed Aunt Edith did not know about me, and I wondered what she did know. I threw Beth a quick look, as if I could communicate with her, but caught up in conversation with Aunt Edith on the weather, she did not see me.
 

My eyes returned to James’ face, as they often did. He did see me, and something in my expression—maybe the wide eyes, maybe a lift of an eyebrow—must have sent a message, because he gave his head a slight shake before turning his attention to the conversation at hand.
 

“Aye, the English came here just last week to help themselves to room and board, though the Stag’s Head Inn is nae above an hour distant from here,” Aunt Edith said with a sigh. She looked at James with the same affection with which he had regarded her. Clearly, there was a close bond between them.

“I canna say that I enjoyed my years in Glasgow, but at least we didna have English soldiers popping into the house whenever they fancied. It is a disrespect to yer poor mother’s memory.”

James drew his dark brows together, and his eyes darkened.

“I bear responsibility for that, Aunt Edith. Let us speak of it no more today.”

“Aye, of course, my dear. When will I learn to hold my tongue?” Her face brightened, and she shook her head as if she never planned on learning to hold her tongue.
 

I knew from my readings that English soldiers patrolled the Highlands, enforcing the penal laws against the Jacobites following the failed battle at Culloden. In May of 1747, just over a year after Culloden, things were probably still volatile. Beth had hinted as much.

“I am so pleased that James has invited ye to stay with us,” Aunt Edith said. “I only wish it could be for longer.”

“Aye, I wish that we could too,” Colin said. “I am always fascinated by yer castle. But like ye, we also have soldiers dropping in at their convenience, and I dinna wish to be away for long. The servants get in such a tizzy when they come.”

“James tells me that yer cousin married an English soldier,” Aunt Edith said.

Colin nodded. “Aye, a good man. Stephen Jones. He has left service though and is now working as a solicitor in Edinburgh.”

I felt distanced from the general conversation, and why shouldn’t I? These people lived in an era different from anything I’d ever known. It was one thing to read about the eighteenth-century Highlands in a guidebook, quite another to actually set foot in it.

And I wondered again why I had stayed and for how long. I didn’t want to hurt Beth’s feelings, but we hadn’t really discussed how long I would stay. A week? A month? A month seemed very long, especially if I had to continue to use that chamber pot.

Even bathing that morning had been a long, drawn-out process with Mary hauling hot water up the stairs and the used cold water down the stairs. Not that I’d had to watch her efforts on the stairs, but the sweat on her brow told me all I needed to know, and I felt guilty. No one hauled water for me in the States...except the PVC pipes in my apartment. While I bathed, I made a mental note to thank all of the engineers and plumbers who’d gone before me and who had figured out how to make hot and cold running water a reality.