Waking the Princess (7 page)

Keen.
Remembering that exquisite face, those delicious lips, he was far more than keen. His heart beat as if he were a boy about to encounter the object of a fervent crush.

"I'm sure Aedan will be very polite to her," Meg said.

"Certainly I will," he murmured.

* * *

MacGregor, the butler, looked old enough to be a great-grandfather, but Christina had to rush to keep up with him. Knobby-kneed and gnarly, wearing a red plaid kilt and black coat, tartan socks and creaky leather shoes, the old man led Christina and John across the foyer, up the stairs, and down a corridor.

As he picked up speed, Christina lifted her skirts to harry, petticoats rustling. Behind her, she heard the rhythm of John's stride with the cane.

Their footsteps were muffled on green tartan carpeting, and the walls, warm salmon pink above polished oak, glowed brightly. As in the other corridors she had seen, paintings, antique furniture, and shining weapons were artfully displayed here, too.

The butler turned. "Are you having an umbrella, bonny sir?" His accent was the soft, precise English of a Gael.

She blinked, realizing he addressed her. "It's raining today, I know, but... we are not going outside just now."

"You may be needing an umbrella in here, bonny sir. Or a targe," he muttered, pointing to some round shields on the wall.

Christina followed, wondering if the old house leaked.

She saw a man nailing tartan carpet into place, which explained the thumping of a hammer she had heard. Down another hallway she saw a ladder, paint buckets, and brushes. She turned to wait for John, while MacGregor barreled onward.

"I should tell the laird that I'm a painter," John said. "He might let me paint some of the walls here with a brush and bucket. I'm that desperate for the work."

"Don't jest, John. You should not climb a ladder."

"No joke, dear. I've had few commissions since my injury."

MacGregor stopped before double oak doors. "Bonny sir. And sir." He bowed.

"Tapadh leat, mac Griogair,"
Christina said, thanking him.

He smiled quickly.
"Tha Gaidhlig mhath agad."

"What did he say?" John asked.

"He said I have good Gaelic," Christina replied. "Our mother was born in the Highlands," she explained to the butler. "She taught her children the Gaelic."

"I forgot most of what I learned," John added. "But my sister taught in a Gaelic school in Fife a few years ago."

"Helping Highland families?" MacGregor smiled. "Good, good."

He turned to knock on the door. A masculine reply sounded, and the butler opened the door to peer into the gap, his caution puzzling. Then he opened the door and waited for Christina to enter first.

Christina caught a glimpse of a sitting room, but she had no time to notice anything else. A blur of motion and sound whirled toward her, and a man's hand lashed out in front of her face. She heard the hard smack as he caught something. His fist brushed the tip of her nose, knocking her eyeglasses askew.

Gasping, she stumbled back against the doorjamb. A sun-bronzed hand clutched a teacup in long fingers. Broad shoulders in a black wool coat filled her view. Stunned, she looked up.

Aedan MacBride peered down at her from over his shoulder. "Why, Mrs. Blackburn," he murmured.

"Well done, sir!" John crowed. "Excellent catch!"

"It comes of practice. Madam, I do apologize." Aedan MacBride held a teacup, caught within an inch of her nose. Christina could not imagine why.

"Tcha,"
MacGregor said as he drew the door closed behind them. "You are needing that umbrella."

"Och, puir lass!" an elderly lady in black, seated on a sofa, called out. "Do come in and sit doon. Miss Thistle!" She snapped as something small and brown—a cat?—scurried under a draped table. Two young women, both blond, exclaimed, and one bent down to look under a linen-covered table.

Bewildered, Christina glanced at Aedan MacBride, who stood calmly beside her. "Welcome," he said. "Please excuse the rather unusual reception. I am... Sir Aedan MacBride."

Of course, she realized. No one here knew that they had met the night before. "Sir Aedan," she said, holding out her hand, "I am Mrs. Christina Blackburn."

He took her fingers, his touch light but firm, his smile appealingly mischievous. In daylight, he was still astonishingly handsome, his eyes keen blue, his thick hair a deep brown, nearly black. His suit of black wool was neat but spattered slightly with mud, as were his boots.

"Sir Edgar Neaves sent me," she said, continuing her introduction. "And this is my brother, John Blackburn."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, madam. Sir, it's very good to meet you." He gave John a firm handshake.

The laird took her elbow, his touch firm and warm through the cloth of her sleeve. Christina looked into his stunning blue eyes, and her heart pattered at a ridiculous pace.

His powerful maleness was distracting. She remembered the feel of his arms around her, the brush of his lips over hers in the darkness. Blushing, she allowed the laird of Dundrennan to draw her into the room.

* * *

With Christina Blackburn on his arm, Aedan faced a room swirling with chaos. Amy lifted her lavender skirts and stepped back as Miss Thistle scrambled behind a drapery. Lady Balmossie fluttered her fan over her bosom, while Meg bent over, cooing to the elusive monkey.

"Thistle," his aunt moaned, "how could you!"

Aedan calmly introduced his kinswomen one by one to the startled guests. Amy smiled brightly in welcome, then squealed as Thistle scuttled under her skirts and paused to peer out.

"Mrs. Blackburn, please have a seat." Aedan guided her to the sofa beside his aunt, who turned her fan to flap it helpfully in the young woman's face.

John Blackburn stood by, quietly laughing, while his sister blinked and glanced around, clearly bewildered.

"Mrs. Blackburn, can I fetch you a glass of water? Or smelling salts?" Aedan asked wryly.

"Oh no, I'm fine." She smiled up at him.

"If flying teacups do not bother you, then I admire you indeed," he answered. She had not made a fuss about falling down the stairs last night, either, although she no doubt felt bruised and shaken.

"Such a kerfuffle!" Lady Balmossie watched the two young women trying to snatch the monkey. "Are ye harmed, lassie?"

"She's quite unbothered," Aedan said, amused.

"So good to meet all of you," Christina said. "Thank you for inviting us here."

John Blackburn leaned on his cane. "Ladies, I'm utterly charmed. What a delightful welcome." His wide smile was relaxed. He was a lean young man with dark brown curls, calf-like brown eyes, and the added romance of a limp, all of which Aedan suspected would melt his kinswomen's hearts.

A bundle of peach satin skittered along the back of a chair. Aedan reached out but missed catching Miss Thistle.

Christina Blackburn stared. "Is that... a monkey?"

"Indeed it is," her brother said, grinning. "Sir Aedan, where did you come by that beastie? I saw them in the wild when I was overseas, and a fellow I knew in India brought one home with him. This one's a female, I take it?"

"Aye. Miss Thistle came from India years ago. She was my father's pet. Now she belongs to my aunt," Aedan explained. The monkey leaped to his shoulder. Aedan sat on the arm of the sofa near Mrs. Blackburn and dipped down to let her see Thistle.

Reaching out, she tentatively touched the monkey's head. Miss Thistle leaped away, climbing loose-limbed up the draperies to sit on the curtain rod and survey the room.

Christina stared upward. "I've seen them at the Edinburgh Zoo, but never up close before." She sounded astonished.

"My father left Thistle in his will to Lady Balmossie," Aedan said. "He knew I did not have the patience for her."

"But you are kind and gentle with her." She smiled at him with such fresh, sultry beauty that his body stirred. No woman had ever had this sort of effect on him, throwing him off-kilter with a mere smile or glance. He frowned.

"Your rescue of my sister was gallant, sir," John said.

"With Miss Thistle about, one learns to move swiftly. And it was a pleasure to save Mrs. Blackburn." He watched her blush again. That hint of passion beneath her calm exterior fascinated him. He wondered how such a quiet little creature could have modeled for that sensual painting.

Meg held out her hand. "Mrs. Blackburn, please forgive our eccentricities. What an odd welcome for you and your brother."

"Thank you, Lady Strathlin. I rather enjoyed it."

"Miss Thistle is upset by the changes at Dundrennan," Lady Balmossie explained. "And she can be shoogly on rainy days, I admit. She usually behaves well."

"She never does," Amy contradicted, as the others laughed.

"Mrs. Blackburn, I believe we met briefly last year in Edinburgh," Meg said. "At the opening of an exhibition at the National Museum of Antiquities. A display of some rather beautiful ancient Celtic pieces, as I recall."

Christina lifted her brows. "Oh yes! In all the commotion I did not realize... how nice to see you again. We were introduced by a friend of yours... Mrs. Shaw, I think."

"Yes. Actually she is now Mrs. Guy Hamilton. She married my secretary just two months ago." Meg smiled. "That was a wonderful exhibit. I remember that you played a part in the discovery of those remarkable pieces, and in the arrangement of the displays as well."

Christina nodded. "I went with my uncle to the site, and also worked with Sir Edgar Neaves of the museum to identify and catalog the pieces. How kind of you to recall."

Aedan felt grateful to Meg for helping to make Christina Blackburn feel more comfortable after that raucous introduction to his family. Over Christina's head, he smiled privately at his cousin's wife. The sparkle in her aqua blue eyes told him that she understood.

"This is a marvelous house, Sir Aedan," John said. "We noticed some work being done as we came through the hallways."

"We are in the process of refurbishing the place, according to my father's wishes," Aedan answered.

"Yes, we want to capture Sir Hugh's grand vision for Dundrennan," Amy said. "The house was still unfinished at the time of his death." She rested a hand upon Aedan's shoulder, but he stood so that her hand had to fall.

"And we have another reason to finish up the house," Lady Balmossie said. "The queen is planning to visit us soon."

"Oh, how exciting!" Christina said.

"Och, aye." Lady Balmossie nodded. "Aedan, have ye had word yet when Her Majesty will arrive?"

"I had a letter from the queen's secretary in this morning's post," Aedan said. "The queen and her consort will preside over the opening of the Glasgow Waterworks on October the sixteenth, and then ride north over the new road—which had best be finished to allow for it," he added. "They will stay here for one night, and tour the Strathclyde hills the next day."

Lady Balmossie whisked her fan. "Oh, my! Will the house be ready in time? Will the painting and carpeting be done? And we must find an artist soon!"

"Artist?" John Blackburn asked quickly.

"For the dining room," Lady Balmossie explained. "My late brother's plans for the house included paintings on the walls."

"Ah," John said, glancing at his sister.

Just then Amy leaned toward Aedan. "Cousin, do come around with me later to look at some things. I so value your thoughts, even though you are such a grumphy about the changes. We are planning the house together," she told the Blackburns.

That sounded uncomfortably matrimonial, Aedan thought. He frowned. "I'm grateful for the help my cousin and my aunt have given with renovations."

"The house is quite impressive," Christina said. "John and I look forward to seeing more of it."

"Amy will give you the grand tour," Aedan said.

"You would especially enjoy the library," Meg told Christina. "Sir Aedan can answer any questions you may have about the book collection. He knows the library best."

"Are you a writer and a scholar, sir, like your father?" Christina asked.

"I am an engineer by education and by trade," he answered, "though I helped my father organize the library years ago. Feel free to use it while you are here. As a scholar, you will appreciate the collection." He looked at her for a moment, thinking of her interrupted mission last night.

She thought of it too—he saw a flicker of awareness in her eyes. "Thank you, sir, though I don't consider myself a true scholar. I assist my uncle, the Reverend Walter Carriston, who is an accomplished antiquarian. I help with research for the museum, and I occasionally help Sir Edgar. He asked me to examine the discovery on the hill near here."

Aedan nodded. "Reverend Carriston wrote a history of Scotland, I believe?"

"Yes, his magnum opus,
A History of Celtic Scotland,
was published in four volumes," she answered.

"My father thought highly of his work."

"My sister is a fine antiquarian," John Blackburn added. "She assisted our uncle with his research and writing. Her theories of Arthurian Britain helped shape his conclusions."