Once Upon a Highland Summer (26 page)

Angus leaned over the railing, floated down, tried to stop Brodie, to push him, or knock the cup from his hand, but Brodie passed straight through him. Angus clawed uselessly at the cup.

It was then that Caroline turned and saw him over her shoulder. She smiled a welcome. She imagined he was part of the damned fool ceremony. He shook his head, desperate now. Brodie had arrived at Alec’s side, bowed, and was holding out the laird’s cup with a sickly grin on his florid face. Alec nodded to his cousin, reached out to take the cup. Angus looked at Caroline desperately. “Lass, do something!” he cried. He saw Caroline’s smile fade, watched her high color turn to ashes. She began rising to her feet, her eyes still on him, a frown drawing her brows together as she opened her mouth to speak. Angus watched as her shoulder hit the cup, sending it spinning out of Brodie’s hands.

Everyone in the room watched the chalice arc through the air, the candlelight glinting off the cup’s silver embellishments as the ruby wine splashed, sparkled, and dropped to the floor. The chalice rang on the stone, echoing through the ancient hall to the very rafters, like a bell warning of treachery and murder.

Devorguilla shot to her feet, her chair tipping backward. It landed in spreading pool of wine with a crash. She stared down at the rivulet flowing toward her in dull surprise, evil seeking its source, Angus thought as she lifted her skirts out of the way.

Angus looked back at Caroline, who hadn’t taken her eyes from him. She stood staring at him, her eyes hollows of surprise as if she’d seen a ghost.

He smiled. What else could he do? She knew what he was now. No one else had seen him. He smiled at her and touched a hand to his bonnet, and slipped back into the shadows.

Muira hurried forward to wipe up the spill, the white rag soon blood red. A faint and familiar smell reached her, and she frowned. Muira dipped a finger into the dregs in the cup and tasted it. In horror she stared at Devorguilla, who was sitting quietly again, her face tight. Devorguilla caught her look and returned one of pure malice. Muira made a sign against evil.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
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S
IX

S
omerson threw down his napkin and rose. “If the evening’s festivities are finished, I need a quiet place where I can speak with Caroline alone.”

Alec felt her tense, but she nodded. “Of course,” he said. “My study is at your disposal.” He still wasn’t certain what had just happened. Brodie had raced for the kitchen, and Muira and Devorguilla were glaring at each other like two cats about to fight. Caroline’s hazel eyes were as big as saucers as they darted into the dark corners of the hall. Perhaps he’d gone too far teasing her, pleasuring her at dinner with her half brother right across the table. He looked again at William Mears, who was staring at Caroline as if he’d been the one to have the pleasure. He wondered again how well she’d known him as a girl—a few stolen kisses perhaps, or even a deep friendship. Did he feel what Alec felt for her? Hardly. Alec watched Caroline depart with Somerson, saw the sway of her hips, the elegant set of her head. Moments ago, he’d been teasing her, but he was the one left wanting, burning with desire that was even worse now. He’d made another grave mistake. How would he keep himself from climbing the stairs to the tower now?

He needed a cold bath, or a long swim in the icy loch. As the company dispersed, he went upstairs, changed into the ease and comfort of his plaid, and slipped out into the dark night. The air was sweet and cool from the rain, fragrant with pine and heather.

He heard the sound of his sister’s sobs before he saw her huddled on a stone bench by the wall, her knees curled under her white dress. Megan looked like a heartbroken ghost.

Alec sat down beside her and pulled her against his shoulder and let her sob until her sorrow turned to hiccups.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“I thought Brodie loved me.”

“Perhaps he does,” Alec said.

“Then why was he staring at Sophie all night? Why wasn’t he looking at me? He has hardly said two words to me since she arrived.”

How could Alec not understand? All Mears had to do was glance at Caroline and he was consumed with jealousy, but if Brodie had pulled Sophie into his arms and laid her on the table to have his way with her during the meal, he would have felt nothing but mild surprise at the lad’s lack of timing—not that he’d allow any such impropriety after they were wed, of course. He recognized his sister’s feelings in his own regarding Caroline.

“Brodie’s very young, as are you, lass. He’s never been any farther from home than Glenlorne,” Alec said. “And Ben Ardle is barely ten miles away, and not nearly as grand as Glenlorne. Did you see the tiara Sophie had on tonight? Perhaps he was staring at that. It would impress anyone.”

“I have jewels as well.” Megan sniffed. She showed him the pretty flower at her throat. The purple and blue stones glittered in the candlelight that poured through the window.

“Where did you get that?” Alec asked.

“Lady Caroline lent it to me. I believe it’s Lady Lottie’s. She was going to wear it herself, but she could see I wanted to look especially pretty tonight for Brodie. Isn’t that kind of her, Alec? She’s a lovely person. I overheard Countess Charlotte say they mean to keep her locked up for the rest of her life, or marry her off to a tinker for tuppence.”

Alec shifted uncomfortably at the change in topic. His sister put her hand on his sleeve. “You wouldn’t let them do that, would you? People have to listen to you, because you’re laird, don’t they? She could stay here, bide with us.”

Alec shut his eyes for a moment. “Lord Somerson is her brother, and her guardian. He only wants what’s best for her,” he said, but even he could hear the doubt in his tone. He felt another pang of guilt. He should never have written to Somerson.

“I know you don’t like him, or Countess Charlotte. I won’t let on for Lady Caroline’s sake, but isn’t there anything you can do? If you weren’t already betrothed to Sophie, you could marry Caroline, couldn’t you? I wish Sophie had never come. She wants to change everything.”

“I thought we were speaking of Brodie?” Alec tried for a light tone.

“I suppose we were, weren’t we? Could you command him to marry me?”

Alec stroked his chin. “I could, I suppose. And if he refuses, I could have him executed,” he joked, but she didn’t smile. “Would you want that, sweeting, a man who had to be ordered to take you? You’re young yet. Go to London for the Season, see the city, meet people, and then—”

Megan gasped. “Don’t tell me you want me to marry an Englishman as well!”

He shook his head, tapped the tip of her nose, and wondered again where her freckles had gone. “I want you to marry a man you love and who loves you.”

She thought for a moment, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I had no idea you were so sentimental, Alec.”

“Wait a while. Men are slower to grow up than young ladies. Let Brodie be for a year or two, see if he still has your heart then.”

“Thank you, Alec. You’re very wise. It’s a good thing you’re Laird of Glenlorne. Things will be well again now, won’t they? You’ll make them right.” She got to her feet. “I’m going inside to speak to Lottie. She said she knows everyone in England who’s worth knowing, and she’d be happy to sponsor me. She’ll be a married lady herself by then, of course.”

He stayed where he was and watched her go. If only all problems of the heart were so easy to fix, he thought.

He stared out at the hills, at the old tower, its crumbling walls so full of holes that the stars shone right through it. Was it a symbol of the clan’s permanence here on this land, or the emblem of a people as tumble-down and desperate as the tower?

It had stood for four hundred years against wind, rain, snow, and even war. It had been there throughout his life, yet he’d scarcely paid it any notice until the day he saw Caroline standing in the window. The memory of finding her there, of making love to her under the open roof on Midsummer’s Eve had him instantly, uncomfortably hard again. How long would it take to forget her once she left Glenlorne? What if she were to stay, as Megan suggested?

He couldn’t imagine Glenlorne without her. He looked forward to the sight of her every morning, to catching a glimpse of her walking to the village, or climbing the hills just to see the view. The clan just accepted her as a fixture here—even Muira—a rare honor for a Sassenach. Between Alec and the tower, the loch glittered and the wind was busy blowing the last of the rain clouds out of the sky. He took a deep breath, and realized how much he loved Glenlorne, the way he had as a child, when his grandfather still lived.

Alec felt alive here, not the creature of shame and shadow he’d been in London. Angus MacNabb had been dour and taciturn during his lifetime, but he made his clan feel safe and cared for. Alec wondered if he could do that too. He pictured himself with a family, a happy home, the village rebuilt, a school, the hillsides dotted with fat sheep and sturdy Highland cattle. And a loving wife, of course. Sophie.

Yet Sophie was the only part of the picture that rang false. And she was the one person he needed—along with her fortune—to make it all happen.

“What the devil were you thinking?” Somerson’s harsh voice demanded, drifting through the window above Alec. “Did you consider my position for even a moment before you ran off, the embarrassment you might have caused?”

“You told people I had retired to the country, ill. How long before you simply told them I was dead?” Caroline replied. “It seems to me as if you found a most convenient solution.”

“Don’t be impudent!” he bellowed. Alec heard Somerson’s heavy footfalls cross the floor.

Alec was on his feet in an instant. He flattened himself against the wall and peered in the open window from the shadows, ready to stop Somerson from harming Caroline. She was standing before him, her chin high.

Alec stepped back into the shadows to watch and listen. Eavesdropping was a useful skill he’d learned in Westlake’s service.

“You won’t strike me, Neville. People would see the marks. I didn’t mean to cause you any inconvenience. I simply felt I had no choice.”

“You had plenty of choice. Two fine suitors—”

“I don’t love either of them. I could never love them,” Caroline said breathlessly.

“Love? You sound like your mother. She told me she loved my father, but she was nothing but a fortune hunter. Love has nothing to do with marriage for our class. Noble matches are made for financial reasons, for political gain, for land and pedigree. I chose suitors for you who answered all those requirements. Love had nothing to do with it. You are most fortunate to receive proposals at all. You’ve never had a Season, never been introduced at court. I spoke to Speed and Mandeville both. They are still willing to entertain marrying you, ruined though you are. If you had done this in England, no one would marry you. As it is, you are damned fortunate I can still conceal this—this—fool’s errand.”

“I don’t feel fortunate,” Caroline replied evenly. “Nor am I willing to marry either gentleman.”

“Then you will not marry at all,” he threatened. “I am your guardian, and if you will not obey me, then I will take you to Starbury Manor. You will stay there permanently, and wish you were dead indeed. You have no choice.”

“There is one other choice, Neville,” she said softly.

Caroline was standing on the rug in front of his desk, her hands clasped, but she did not look submissive in the least. The candlelight flamed over two spots of color on her pale cheeks, and she held her head high. Alec felt a surge of pride.

“Then you’ll do as I say and marry where I tell you?”

“No.” Her voice was quiet, but firm.

“No?” Alec heard anger in Somerson’s tone.

“I will sign a paper, give everything I own to you—you may have my dowry.”

Somerson stared down at her, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What? You would be penniless!” .

“I am aware of the consequences. I understand my dowry is quite large. Let me go, Neville, and you may keep the money. It is a better arrangement, is it not? You wished to marry me off to whoever would take me. You would still have had to pay my husband my dowry. This way, you can keep it, and still be rid of me.”

Somerson considered the matter in silence.

Alec stared at her. Lady Caroline Forrester, half sister to one of England’s most powerful peers, was throwing everything away just to be free. Wasn’t that what he’d done when he left home, swearing to go to Ceylon, to make his own way in the world and never return? It hadn’t worked out for him. He’d been beaten and robbed the very day he reached London. If not for Westlake picking him out of the gutter, he’d likely be dead by now. Caroline had no such protector, no such hope, yet she stood with her shoulders square, her chin high, her eyes clear, sure of what she was doing.

“Very well. If that’s what you want. I shall write something out tonight.”

She shook her head. “I want Father’s man of affairs in York to do it. He dealt with my mother’s will as well. I want it done legally, so neither you nor I can ever come back and say we were cheated.”

“I am the Earl of Somerson! He’ll write what I tell him to.”

“Perhaps so, but he knows me, knew my mother. I insist upon that condition.”

“You are in no position to insist upon anything!” Somerson reminded her.

“If you keep me, it will cost you money, whether I marry or live out my life in isolation at Starbury. You have everything to gain, and only one unwanted half sister to lose.”

Alec watched her move toward the door. “Where are you going? I didn’t give you leave to go,” Somerson spluttered.

Caroline turned to face her half brother. “I have said what I wished to say. What more is there to stay for? Please excuse me. I am still employed here, and I must check on the girls.”

“Why you—” Somerson began, but stopped when he realized she’d slipped out of the room, and he was talking to empty air.