The Heart Queen (31 page)

“I want you, and the lasses, to enjoy your stay here.”

Her eyes regarded him steadily. She played with her wineglass. “When are you leaving?”

“After supper. You wished to say farewell?” he asked dryly.

“No, I just wondered what... the restrictions were.”

“Restrictions?”

“I am your prisoner, my lord. Mayhap not with bars, but with your threat to take my son away,”

“No threat, my lady. I just wanted you to be aware of the danger at Lochaene.”

“Then why do I feel as if it were a threat? That I had no choice?” Her eyes bore into his. “Have you ever thought of what it must be like to be a woman, my lord? If not, it might well be informative.

“Everyone,” she added quietly, “tells you they know better than you do. Everyone assumes you are too weak or too brainless to manage your own affairs. Everyone assumes that you are content to be a pawn in some game, and that you can never understand the affairs of men.

“My daughters,” she continued, “will never learn that from me.”

Neil heard the pain in her voice. “I did not intend to imply that,” he said. “I find that I am... not always good with words. I wanted merely to protect.”

“You have never asked what I wanted,” she said. “I wrote you because I felt trapped. I do not think I expected an answer. But I had hoped that you remembered something about me. A letter to Cumberland. That was all I wanted, all I hoped for.”

“I wanted to do more,” he said quietly.

“By putting me in another cage, my lord?”

“I do not want Braemoor to be that for you. I thought—”

“
You
thought. That is the problem, my lord. And now you go away and leave me here. I do not know what is happening with my properties. With my son’s inheritance. I do not know your true motives.”

“You cannot believe they are honorable?”

“Quite frankly, my lord, no,” she said. “You are kind with my children. But then you were kind to me years ago. I do not want them hurt as I was.”

He had told himself all these years that he had done the best thing for her. Now he realized he had done the best thing for himself. He had not been able to tell her of the madness in the family. He had not wanted to see fear in her eyes. Nor the rejection he thought he would find.

Was it too late now to tell her that... tell her what? That he had not enough respect for her then, either, to tell her the truth?

Had he used his suspicions toward the Campbells as an excuse to be near her, to revive something that had never had a chance, that could never be?

“When I return,” he said, “I will take you back to Lochaene.”

“No ifs?”

“I hope you will accept having some of my people there.”

“People you trust—or people I trust?”

“Someone
you
trust,” he said.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I do not know.”

He wished he could read her intentions. He did not doubt that her mind was working actively to find some way out of the cage she’d just mentioned. Nor did he fool himself that his words had been heeded. They quite simply meant nothing. He had ensured that years ago.

Torquil appeared, the slightest twinkle in his eyes. He poured wine into her glass and stepped aside as a footman entered with plates of food. Neil knew he had more servants than he needed or wanted, but they needed the positions, and so he had added one by one, most of them, like Torquil, not very competent.

Neil’s attention went entirely to his guest. He was fascinated with Janet, with the way she regarded him steadily. He could not quite read her expressions.

She was after something. He steeled himself against a need to say aye to whatever she wanted. He was sure she wanted something he could not give her.

But she merely sipped her wine. “Did Torquil tell you about the pastries?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Evidently not,” he replied.

“Samson and Delilah ate all the cook’s pastries. I had left them on a table when you arrived with the ponies.”

It had been days since they had exchanged pleasantries. She was very definitely up to something. He waited.

“Are you going to Edinburgh? If so, I have some letters. ...”

He doubted very much whether she had letters. She wanted to know where he was going. “Nay,” he said. “I have some properties to the west that I must see to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “New properties?”

“Aye.”

“Jacobite properties?”

He said nothing.

“Given in service to the butcher?”

“Given to my predecessor for
his
services,” he said. “My own were not nearly that deserving.”

“Deserving enough to take guardianship of my son,” she observed dryly. Then she turned her gaze away. “I meant this to be a pleasant evening,” she said.

“You have accomplished your goal, my lady. It is always a pleasant evening when you are at the table.”

“A pretty speech,” she said.

“An honest one,” he replied.

She looked skeptical but said nothing. She tried again. “Will you be going to Lochaene?”

“I do not plan to do so,” he said.

“Surely you can tell me if you plan to be away several days or a week or a month.”

“I doubt a month, my lady,” he said. “But in truth, I do not know. We are starting something new at Calleigh, a property some forty miles from here. The property was deserted when it came to my cousin, and Braemoor has too many tenants. I have offered some of the younger men free land if they will move there and tend sheep. Then we can keep all of Braemoor in farming. I want to see if all is going well. Their trust, like yours, is tenuous at best.” That was the truth, but only part of it. He disliked misleading her, but he had no intention of telling her that he, for some inexplicable reason, was going to meet the man responsible for nearly killing him, a man who was wanted by the crown.

She studied him, as if she knew he was holding something back. “If you are going to be gone for any amount of time, I would like to go to Edinburgh.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Edinburgh.”

“I would like to purchase some cloth to make dresses for my daughters.”

“And would you take them with you? And the lad?”

“Aye, I would not leave them,” Janet confirmed.

He wondered what she really wanted. He’d never met a woman who cared less about fripperies. Even for the children. In addition, they were all still formally in mourning. Did she plan to make a special plea to Cumberland to have him removed as guardian?

It would do no good, he knew. And the journey could be dangerous, especially if her Campbell in-laws learned of it.

He damned Will. His demand could not come at a worse time but Neil knew he had to leave tonight. Otherwise, Burke would probably lurk around the property, putting everything he’d worked for in jeopardy.

“I think not, Countess,” he said at last. “The roads are dangerous. Edinburgh itself is dangerous for those known to be Jacobites.”

“And so I am to remain here alone.”

“Not alone, madam. You have the children, books, servants. You have horses to ride and ponies to teach your daughters to ride. You need only to go to the village to find some good cloth if you wish to have dresses made.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I thought you might welcome my absence.”

“To live in someone else’s home?”

“Better than one with dangerous enemies.”

“I might ride?”

“If you take Kevin. He will stay here with you. ‘Tis not because I fear you fleeing, Janet. I do not think you would do that with the children here. But ’tis still dangerous in Scotland. There are desperate men. I would not like to see you harmed when under my protection.”

“Your
protection
,” she said. “I feel more like a prisoner.” She paused, then struck out blindly. “I should have realized there is a reason behind every thing you do. You taught me that lesson well.”

It was the second time tonight she had directly mentioned that disastrous time. He wished he could tell her that he had loved her then, loved her as much as a man could ever love a woman, loved her so much that he had let her go. That he still loved her, that it was pure agony to look into her eyes and see that distrust.

Tell her why.

He couldn’t. He did not know how to rip out his deepest fears and express them.

And he needed to leave soon if he were to change clothes and meet Burke. For a fleeting second, he wondered if he would be back at all. He knew he was a fool for even considering going. But Will obviously needed something more than money. Something only he could provide. It was the reason he had not been killed.

It has nothing to do with you
. How many times had he told himself that in the past few hours?

But he had done damn few bloody good things in his life, and he remembered those children in the mountains, and knew that spending the winter there could kill them.

Rory had left him Braemoor. He had made sure there would be no question that Neil would inherit. He owed his cousin something. He knew what Rory would do. What the Black Knave would do.

He owed it to himself to help the innocents that Rory had fought so hard to protect.

He stood. “I must go, madam. I plan to leave tonight.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tonight? Why not the morning?”

He damned himself. He should have said nothing.

“I wish to be there at dawn.”

She just looked at him as if he’d been struck mad. She did not realize how close she was to the truth.

He rose from the table. “I want you to be happy, Janet,” he said. “I swear I will get you back to Lochaene as soon as it is safe.”

But he saw only doubt written on her face as he bowed, then hurried to his room before he said more than what would be wise.

The children were all asleep when Janet went upstairs. She leaned down and pulled covers over them, her hands lingering on Annabella for a moment before leaving the side of the bed. She hesitated at the cradle where Colin slept, then leaned down and kissed him lightly. She told Clara that she would leave him with her this night.

When she returned to her room, Lucy was waiting for her. She helped Janet take off her gown and started to brush it out, but it was obvious she was impatient to get away. Kevin, no doubt, was the reason.

That suited Janet’s purposes. “I will finish,” she said. “You can go and see Kevin. I will not need you again tonight.”

Lucy’s plain face brightened. “Thank you, my lady.”

Janet waited until she knew the girl was gone, then she looked out the door. No one was in the hallways. Not Torquil or Trilby, who had been hovering about, anxious to do anything she could.
Anything you need or want, you need merely to ask. His
words. Well, now she wished to explore.

She was aware of the location of his room down the hall. Other rooms were up on the next floor, including one she knew had once been occupied by his cousin, Rory, the late marquis, before Neil had assumed the title. The nursery had once been there, too, before the current marquis had apparently transformed a room closer to her for the children. An unexpectedly thoughtful act by a man who was a bachelor.

But then everything about him was unexpected ... puzzling. Mayhap while he was gone she could extract information from the butler or others around Braemoor.

Now, however, she had another goal. She went up the steps and looked at the door to the room once occupied by Rory Forbes. She felt like a thief even as she reminded herself of Neil’s words. She was going to use them against him, and something inside rebelled against that.

She tried one door and looked in. Dust layered old pieces of furniture, which included a narrow bed and wardrobe. She went over the wardrobe and opened it. Clothes were neatly folded inside, although they had a musty smell. She went through them. They were a strange combination of the practical and flamboyant: leather trousers together with plaid trews, a simple coat beside a purple waistcoat.

She took out the trousers. They were obviously tailored for a tall man, probably as tall as Neil. She took them and a linen shirt and simple jacket, then replaced everything else back into neat piles. Then she looked out the door. No one was in sight. She crept back down the stairs with her find and hurried into her room.

Then she held up the clothes against her. She would have to do a bit of tailoring herself, but she could manage that. She had cut down clothes for the lasses.

She put a log in the fireplace, watching the dying embers catch. Then she found a needle and thread, and small knife. She dragged a heavy chair over to the window and started cutting as she kept an eye on the stable.

Something was very odd about his leaving tonight. It did not make sense. She wanted to know where he was going. And whether it had anything to do with her. Knowledge was
a weapon, and she badly needed one at the moment
.

She cut off part of the trouser legs, then tried them on.

They were huge around her waist. She needed a belt. She had not considered that. Another trip would be necessary.

Janet slipped them off, put them in the wardrobe and changed into her shift and dressing gown. She looked again out the room. It was nearly midnight, and all was quiet. Only a few torches in wall sconces gave light. She slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind her and turned, suddenly finding herself face-to-face with Braemoor.

He looked even more startled than she felt. He was dressed in dark clothing and had slung a black cloak around his shoulders.

“My lord,” she said.

“My lady,” he replied with wry amusement. “I did not expect you to be up this late. Can Torquil fetch you something?”

“I wanted only some milk,” she said, “and I can fetch that myself.”

His gaze moved up and down her body. His eyes were dark and the shadows did nothing to lighten them, but she saw something like desire flash across his face. “You look much too bonny in that,” he said.

The night robe was white, and her hair was down, ready to be braided for the night. She felt naked without the usual armor of petticoats and drawers, without the severe knot and matronly cap. She crossed her arms against her still-full breasts.