A Lass for Christmas (Tenacious Trents Novella) (6 page)

“Of course,” Lachlan laughed. “Who else would
she be?”

“Fiancé? Sister?”

Lachlan scoffed. “If Trent were betrothed,
all the world would know and young ladies everywhere would fall
into mourning.”

“Sister, then?”

Lachlan stared at his friend and his stomach
tightened again. Was it possible?

“He has a sister called Madeline,” Dougal
reminded him.

“The lass said her name was Maddie.”

“Which could easily be a nickname,” Dougal
insisted.

“She said she wasna traveling alone.” Lachlan
pushed his plate away, appetite gone. “If Trent was her brother she
would have said she was with her brother and would not have been
vague about her companion.”

“Do ye really think Trent would take his
mistress to visit his brother?”

“We don’t know that he is visiting the former
vicar,” Lachlan argued. Though there would be no other reason for
Trent to be in the area. Perhaps he was going to be spending
Christmas with his brother and sister-in-law and didn’t wish to be
parted from his newest mistress for too long. There was no reason
Trent couldn’t stay at the inn. He hadn’t stayed with his brother
last time he was here. Trent had probably planned to keep her in a
room at the inn and enjoy her talents at night while behaving the
gentleman while out in the day and evening. Trent had done so
before and there was no reason why he wouldn’t do so now.

Lachlan shoved away from the table. She
couldn’t be his sister otherwise the young woman would have said
so. Trent was traveling with his mistress and she had gone for a
walk. Perhaps Trent had left her in the carriage while he visited
with his brother and sister-in-law. Maddie simply got tired of
sitting there and decided to take a walk.

It was as simple as that. As soon as it was
safe enough to travel, Lachlan would deliver the wayward mistress
to Jordan and be on his way north.

“Lord Brachton, Dougal,” Mrs. MacGinnis
shouted from above. “I need yer help.”

Lachlan rushed from the room and pounded up
the stairs. What had happened to the lass now?

The door to his chamber was open and Mrs.
MacGinnis stood over Maddie who was on the floor holding her right
ankle. “Damn and blast,” she muttered.

Her language just confirmed that she was not
a miss of society. “What is it?”

Her head jerked up and a lovely blush spread
across her cheeks. He could well understand why Jordan kept this
one close. Not only was she a beauty but her voluptuous curves
would give any man hours of pleasure. “I hurt my ankle.”

“Walkin’?” Was the chit prone to mishaps?

Mrs. MacGinnis blew out a breath. “She hurt
it last night, probably when she went through the ice.”

Lachlan moved Maddie’s hands away from her
ankle. It was swollen and discolored with ugly shades of deep
purple and brown. “Why did ye try to walk?”

“I didn’t know it was hurt until I tried to
stand,” she snapped back.

“I was able to help her to the privy, but on
the way back, she lost her balance,” Mrs. MacGinnis explained.

“I got dizzy,” the lass muttered and looked
up at him. “I’m not feeling very well.”

The color left her cheeks and she swayed a
bit even though she was sitting on the floor.

“Get her into bed,” Mrs. MacGinnis
ordered.

Lachlan scooped the lass up in his arms and
deposited her back in the middle of the bed before covering her
again.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me,” she
muttered with a bit of irritation.

“Ye have a fever,” Mrs. MacGinnis
explained.

Lachlan placed the back of his hand to
Maddie’s forehead and cheek. The lass was warmer than she should
be, but not hot enough to be a concern yet. This is all he needed.
Trent’s mistress ill in his bed.

“I’ll bring up some more tea and somethin’ to
eat. Dougal will carry the tray for me.”

Lachlan hadn’t even known his friend was
standing there until Mrs. MacGinnis said his name.

The two of them left and Lachlan settled at
the side of the bed. “I shouldna be surprised ye’re sick after the
dunkin’ in the lake.”

She tried to smile, but it was weak.

Now that he knew he wouldn’t be forced to
marry her, he didn’t much mind being in this chamber with her. Yet,
what Dougal said at the breakfast table still bothered him, and he
should learn for certain who she was to Jordan.

“What shall I call you?” If she said Lady
Madeline he would know for certain.

“Maddie is fine.”

“Not lady or miss? The clothing you were
wearing seemed to indicate you were of quality.”

“I am not a lady, no matter what I happen to
be wearing.” Tears formed in her eyes, but Maddie turned away from
him and blinked a few times. They were gone in moments.

That proved she was Jordan’s mistress. If she
were his sister she would have corrected him and insisted on being
called Lady Madeline. Jordan was wealthy enough that he could dress
his mistresses in the finest clothing, though what was the purpose
since a mistress was not meant to be dressed? On the other hand,
one couldn’t very well take a naked lady out in public. But, what
was Jordan doing taking her to his brother’s house, the former
vicar? That was beyond the pale for even Trent.

Unless they were betrothed.

No, Maddie would have mentioned the word
fiancé if that were the case. Anyone who managed to snare Trent
would shout if for the world to hear, and would have certainly
announced it to him.

She wasn’t really lying when she admitted to
not being a lady. She may have believed she was once, but that was
before she learned the truth. She was a bastard and no amount of
layered silk and satins could change that fact.

“And who are you?” As she spent the night in
his bed, and if she recalled correctly, his arms. She should
probably know his name.

“Lachlan Grant, the Marquess of Brachton.” He
smiled down at her. It was warm and humor sparkled in his eyes.
Perhaps he didn’t get along well in the mornings and simply needed
a hearty meal.

“Ye can call me Lachlan. Circumstances have
pushed us beyond the bounds of propriety.”

Jordan had mentioned him. Her brother planned
on visiting Brachton if he was still in the area, but assumed
Brachton had gone home to Scotland for Christmas. Thank goodness he
hadn’t or she would have drowned in that lake.

A shiver ran down her spine at how close she
had come to death. Though perhaps her death would solve a number of
problems, one being the shame it brought to the family, but she had
no intention of giving up that easily.

He brushed her hair from her check and tucked
it behind her ear. His touch was gentle and soothing.

“Jordan mentioned you, but refused to
introduce us if you were still in the area.”

Brachton’s grin was full of self-assurance
and cockiness, much like Jordan when he was confident where a
female was concerned.

Why hadn’t Jordan wanted her to meet him? She
was certain it was because she was born on the wrong side of the
blanket. He knew any titled man would not wish to marry a bastard,
nor be introduced to one. She simply wasn’t good enough for his
friend.

Had her family been plotting on ways to keep
her from having another Season without letting her know the reason
why? Surely, they knew as well as she that to dupe society into
believing she was a lady would bring scandal to their doorstep, and
there wasn’t anything Clayton despised more than the family riddled
in scandal.

“I hope Jordan isn’t angry we met.” Really
what did she know about the man and what harm would a simple
introduction have done. It wasn’t like Jordan could have said
‘Brachton, this is my sister, Madeline, the bastard of the
family’.

Brachton chuckled. “I am fairly certain he
will not be pleased, but there is no reason to worry yourself. I
can deal with Trent.”

Was there something about her brother that
Madeline didn’t know? She understood why Jordan hadn’t wanted to
introduce her to anyone of quality, but why was Brachton so certain
as well? He knew nothing about her, unless Jordan had told him. No,
Brachton didn’t know that Jordan was her brother, so what did
Brachton know about her brother that she did not.

“Here is some hot tea and porridge for you,
Miss,” Mrs. MacGinnis announced as she entered the room followed by
Dougal carrying a tray.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll just leave it here on the table and
Lachlan can see that ye are served.”

The man opened his mouth in what Madeline
assumed was a protest but the two disappeared before he could say
anything.

Brachton grumbled under his breath and walked
to the table. “Would ye prefer tea or porridge first?”

She was parched. “A sip of tea, please.”

He poured the hot liquid into a dainty cup,
much too small for his large hands, and brought it to her.

Madeline accepted it and drank deeply. The
warmth helped sooth her dry and scratchy throat.”

He took the cup away and returned with a
napkin, which he stuffed into the top of her nightshirt and then
handed her the bowl and spoon. Madeline took one bite and moaned.
This was the best porridge she had ever eaten. Of course, it could
be because she was starving. She hadn’t eaten since the midday meal
yesterday.

She took three more bites. The taste had
nothing to do with hunger. “This is the most delicious porridge I
have ever eaten.”

Brachton smiled. “Mrs. MacGinnis is the best
cook in all of Scotland.”

“England,” Madeline corrected.

He frowned.

“You are in England at the moment,” she
reminded him.

He nodded. “The best cook in Scotland and
England.”

Madeline continued eating until she was
scraping the bowl with her spoon. A lady should eat more delicately
and never try to get every last drop but she didn’t care. Besides,
she wasn’t a lady.

Brachton chuckled as he took the bowl from
her and set it back on the table. “It is nice to see an English
woman eat as if she had an appetite.”

A blush heated her cheeks. Or perhaps it was
the fever, but she knew what he meant. Ladies were to take small
portions and eat little so as to maintain their figure. Madeline
hated that rule and never followed it in the privacy of her own
home with only family present.

“The snow has stopped,” Brachton announced
from the window.

This meant that soon Lachlan would be
returning her to Jordan and then be on his way north to find a
bride. Irritation welled up within her.

“What is wrong with marrying a proper English
woman? You are an English lord, after all.” She had to ask because
it rankled her. Yet he was Scottish as well, and she would have
known that without seeing him wearing his plaid but by the rich
brogue in his speech. His voice warmed her like brandy on a cold
night. Not that she had ever drunk much brandy, but on a few
occasions she had snuck some from her brother’s stores. Clayton
never had noticed and if he had, probably blamed it on Jordan since
she only did so when her brother visited. It was Jordan who had
poured her that first glass after mother and father had gone to bed
one night when she was home on holiday.

Of the three brothers she was closest to
Jordan. He was the one who visited her most during those years she
was off to school. He felt partly to blame for her being sent to
school, but glad she didn’t have to endure Father any more than
necessary. Clayton was too busy learning to be the next earl,
Matthew was at school and then the seminary, John had disappeared,
and Madeline was only allowed to see Mother when she was home.

Lachlan took a long time in answering. After
he placed the bowl on the table, he stirred the fire and then
refilled her cup. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her or didn’t wish to
answer the question. He brought the tea back to her.

“How do you know my feelings on marrying?” He
handed her the cup.

“I was awake and heard you speaking with your
friend, Dougal.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I apologize. I should have let you know I
was awake, but I was trying to determine where I was. I was a bit
befuddled when I woke.”

“In my bed,” he reminded her. “Do you intend
to try and illicit a proposal out of me now?”

Heat stole into her cheeks. “Heavens, no! I
doubt I will ever marry and certainly not a titled man.”

His shoulders seemed to relax. “Even though
I’ve an English title, I am a Scot and my bride will be too.”

So he wasn’t really against English ladies as
a rule, but someone who shared a familiar heritage. She couldn’t
fault him in that.

Madeline sipped the warm tea. It was soothing
to her throat and she could enjoy it more now that she had eaten.
The fire brought a good deal of warmth to the room and her eyes
grew heavy. Why was she so tired? Hadn’t she slept all night? It
could be the fever. Perhaps it would be gone when she woke
again.