Sizzle All Day (25 page)

"Yes, and we tried. We did. But we also made a mistake by not pursuing a potential buyer in addition to Harrington. We have no backup plan."

"Uncle Angus, maybe it is time to rethink your decision to sell Rowanclere. The situation has changed."

"How?"

"Bennet is dead. I need no longer fear his threats."

"True." He sipped his tea. "But that was not my only purpose in selling the castle, was it? You know that someday the real death bogle will come for me. What happens then, Gillian? How will you pay the death taxes, hmm? The coffers are all but empty."

"I don't wish to think about it."

"An adult attitude, that." He shook his head. "I'll tell you what will happen, lass. The Crown will take the castle and leave you with little more than the clothes on your back. I refuse to allow that to happen. I'll not go to meet my Maker having failed to provide for my girls."

She shook her head hard. "Stop right there, Uncle Angus. You provided the most important thing of all. You gave us your love, and that is more valuable than any castle in all of Britain."

"I appreciate the fact you believe that, Gilly, but don't allow your heart to stand in the way of your head. We have discussed this a thousand times. While love is what makes a man—or woman—truly wealthy, one cannot ignore the importance of cold hard cash. Money gives you freedom, Gillian. It will buy you time to find the love you desire, the love you deserve. It offers the freedom of choice."

The word "freedom" brought Jake's image to mind and she quickly shoved it aside. "But I would be happy in a small cottage somewhere. All I require is to be close enough to visit Flora often."

"But what of Robbie? Her happiness is important to you, too, is it not? What if in a few years she wishes to have a London Season? You will want her to make a good marriage. Such opportunity requires an outlay of coin. How will you provide it, Gillian, if I don't?"

Only one sure way popped to mind. Marriage. "A way exists."

Uncle Angus pinned her with a knowing gaze. "I wish more for you than a marriage like young Maclean's," he said. "Circumstances forced David to make a choice he'll pay for all his life."

"Pay? I doubt he sees it that way. Flora and I met his wife in the village one day. Annabelle Maclean is very beautiful."

"Oh, she may be bonny, but she is not you, Gillian. David wanted you."

Not enough, she thought.

"Think about it, lass. If you were in his position, if you were forced to choose between following your heart or seeing Robyn well provided for, which would you choose?"

"Uncle Angus," she said with a long-suffering sigh. He was right, she knew it. Nothing truly had changed. "I will see that the advertisements are placed, but I will hope on the village's behalf that only potential good neighbors inquire."

"Naught wrong with that. Now, sit down and share a piece of bacon with me. Mrs. Ferguson has once again sent too much food."

Gillian sat and nibbled at the meat while Uncle Angus ate. He was almost through with his meal when the rain began. Before long, it was pouring down and to Gillian's great dismay, the roof spouted four different leaks, one directly above his bed. "Oh, no. Not again."

Angus silently observed each drip, then said, "Hope the weather clears before tonight. Sleeping in the damp is hard on my bones."

Anger flaring, Gillian waved an expansive hand around the room. "This place is nothing more than a cold drafty bird's cage. I understand your desire for independence, Uncle, and I respect the vows you made in your youth. But it makes me furious to think of you causing yourself added pain by refusing to act intelligently and move downstairs where we could better care for you."

He pushed his chair away from the table and struggled to stand. "Now, hold on there. As much as I love you, this is my life, my decision. I have lived in the Crow's Nest since my return to Rowanclere and I will be here until I die. It is my choice, and I will not tolerate another shirrackin from you about it. Now, I'm done eating. If you'll excuse me, I've more correspondence that requires my attention."

The stormy sky suited her mood as she made her way downstairs. Caring for an elderly loved one was no easy task. She never was certain which role she was to take, that of parent or child. Right now Angus was full of nettle, but she had seen that change in the space of an hour. She could return later in the day and find him filled with fear over a twitch in his side or a pain in his chest, and he'd be turning to her for comfort and advice. She took her cues from him and presented the role he required. Some days, like today, acting the child was more difficult than others.

"Why won't he listen to me?" she muttered as she dropped the breakfast tray onto the worktable in the kitchen. "He should be downstairs in the blue salon with southern exposure. As his caretaker, I should insist on it."

As his niece, she could not.

Two days later, she faced the question once more when Uncle Angus stumbled on a step and tumbled down the stairs.

The physician summoned to Rowanclere afterward declared Angus lucky to have suffered nothing more serious than soreness and a broken ankle. "Not that a broken ankle at his age is a minor injury. He'll be confined to bed for now. You'll want to order a wheeled chair for him."

"We already have one. He refuses to use it."

"He canna refuse it now. He'll not walk on his own for a long time to come."

Gillian had no choice but to order Uncle Angus moved to the blue salon with southern exposure. Needless to say, he didn't take the news well.

* * *

As Jake strolled into the blue salon, a luncheon tray came sailing toward him, crashing against the wall. "If you've hurt her again, you rapscallion, I'll have your head."

Jake glanced at the soup stain—potato, from the looks of it—and said, "What do you mean 'hurt her again.' I just walked in. Where is everyone?"

"Delaney, is that you?" Angus grabbed his glasses off the bedside table and put them on. "Finally. Thank God. You are just the man we need around here."

Jake didn't like the sound of that. "What's wrong? Why are you in bed down here? I thought this room was a salon."

"It was. It's my bedchamber now."

Looking closer, Jake realized the blue salon had been transformed into a fairly decent approximation of the Crow's Nest. Angus slept in the same bed, gazed at the same pictures, lit the same lamps. The same books lined the shelves, the same clock hung on the wall, and his carpet lay beneath the furnishings. The salon even smelled similar to the Crow's Nest due to numerous vases filled with roses placed about this chamber.

"I fell down the stairs, broke my ankle." Angus snorted with disgust. "Nobody here would help me get up to the Crow's Nest. Fifty years I kept my vow and now in the very twilight of my life, it is taken from me. As we said back in Texas, it really chaps my hide."

"That's why you threw your potato soup at me?"

"It's a fish soup, not potato. And I threw it at you because I thought you were David Maclean."

Jake went still. "David? The David who—?"

"Aye, Gillian's David."

Well, by God, he's not hers now.

Angus continued, "Maclean came sniffing around Rowanclere about half an hour ago. He's with Gillian right now. They're alone."

"Alone? Where's Robyn? Mrs. Ferguson?"

"They're off to the village to do some shopping. You must go after her, Jake. Make sure he's behaving himself."

"Where are they?"

"The library, I suspect. That's where they always did their sparkin' before."

Jake immediately turned to leave, but as he moved, a portrait on the wall caught his eye and changed his mind. This might be better handled the sneaky way. He'd go to the library through the passages. Maclean better hope Jake didn't discover any surprises once he got there.

* * *

Gillian cuddled Scooter close to her breast. Ever since their midnight snack the night of Harrington's haunting, the dog had trailed her like a tasty bone. Time and again, she'd fussed to Robyn about the development. At this moment, she was thrilled to have Scooter to hold.

She felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs. Though his home was but a half-hour's ride from Rowanclere, this was the first time she'd seen David in well over a year.

The last time she saw him they met at the standing stones and he'd brought her flowers. They'd made love beneath a brilliant blue sky and spoken aloud their dreams of the future.

Six weeks later, he married his American bride.

Scooter fixed somber brown eyes on David and gave a low, menacing growl. Scratching the dog behind the ears, Gillian moved to stand before the window. She pushed aside the drapery, and gazed outside. "Why have you come?"

"A number of reasons. Mainly, I can no longer stay away. I've wanted to see you every day for the past sixteen months, two weeks and a day."

She knew without counting that he referred to the last time they'd been together. Her hold on Scooter tightened, and when the dog yipped, she set her down.

I wonder if she'd nip at his ankles if I told her to?

"Ah, Gilly. Robbie and I met up on the moors. She told me of Angus's illness and all the troubles you have faced. I've come now because I am finally in the position to help you instead of hurt you."

Turning to face him, she slowly studied him. David was still a handsome man. Blond with angel blue eyes and aquiline features, he was tall and broad and fine enough to catch the fancy of any lass. Sincerity shimmered like sunset on Loch Rowanclere from his eyes. That and more. Sorrow, compassion, chagrin, and... love?

Gillian closed her eyes. Not love. No. The man was married.

"Let me help you, Gilly. Please. I know it will not absolve me from my sins, but at least this misery I claimed for myself will do good for someone. Someone I love."

On the wall behind David a painting—the second laird, she believed—suddenly crashed to the floor. Both she and David jumped. "Guid fegs, what was that?" he asked.

Scooter barked and dragged herself across the room to investigate. Seconds later, she gave a series of excited yips.

Gillian's lips twisted. The falling painting was one of the tricks they'd rigged for Lord Harrington. Its timing made her wonder if David's appearance had stirred up an old ghost after all.
Wouldn't that be just my luck, now when it's too late?

Scooters barks grew louder and more annoying. Gillian crossed the room and picked her up once more. She scratched the dog's belly and silently paced the room. Questions bubbled in her head; emotions warred in her heart. So much lay between this man and herself, she hardly knew where to start.

Yet, what good could belaboring old hurts possibly do? Better to deal with the here and now, because in truth nothing else truly mattered. "How? How can you help?"

David tore his gaze away from the walls and cleared his throat. "I sold my soul for money, Gillian. I married a fortune instead of the woman I loved, who I still love. As foolish as that was, the fact remains that now I do have funds."

Muuu... waaaaa. Muuu... waaa.
David's eyes went wide as the moaning sound reverberated through the room. His gaze jerked around the room. "Gillian, did you hear that? What is happening here?"

The dog went wild in her arms and Gillian realized Robyn must have returned and taken up the role of ghost. Any other time, she'd have stopped to investigate, but right now she wanted to hear what David had to say. "I think Robyn is playing. Ignore it."

Woof woof woof woof.

"Oh, Robyn. Well. Yes." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Between what Robyn told me and the information I was able to gather in the village, I understand Angus is anxious to rid himself of Rowanclere, I can buy it, Gilly. I can buy it and you and Robbie can stay here in your home."

"You want to buy Rowanclere?" Scooter scratched the back of Gillian's arm during her scrambling around. Taking the hint, Gillian returned her to the floor.

"I want to help you," he replied. Scooter came at him. She paused just long enough to snap once at his ankles, then barreled on toward the far wall. There, she skidded to a halt and started whimpering.

Gillian watched the dog, but didn't truly see her, so busy was she trying to make sense of what he'd said.
David wanted to help her? David wanted to save her home?
Now her knees went a little weak, and a lump the size of an orange grew in her throat.

More than anything she wanted to snatch the treat he dangled before her, but common sense and prior experience with this man urged her to step cautiously. "Why?"

"Because I can. Because I should." He stood directly beneath the chandelier. When it began to shake, he scrambled to one side.

David's response to the hauntings made him look exceedingly childish to Gillian's eyes. He wasn't at all like Jake when she'd played the breadbasket trick on him. Jake had talked back to the ghost.

"Because I love you and I've never stopped loving you and I never will."

Oh, please
. She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "You married another woman."

Ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff.

He approached her, his hands outstretched. "Out of duty, not desire. It was a sorry plicht. I had no choice, Gillian. I faced the same thing then as you do now. The Macleans would have lost everything had I not married an heiress."

The rattle of chains from the inner wall had him scowling.

"Robyn needs to find something else to occupy her time," he grumbled. But back to the matter at hand. "Apardon, Gilly. I am sorry for hurting you. I am sorry age has finally caught up with Angus and that it has brought you to this pass. But I can help you. I need to help you. It has been a misery living so close but never laying eyes upon your beautiful face."

At that, Gillian wished she had some chains of her own to shake in his face. Or maybe she should bite at his ankles, herself. "Your duty was to me."

He shut his eyes and absorbed the blow. "With my brother's death, I became the eldest son. You would have me turn my back on five hundred years of family history?"