The Heart Queen (4 page)

Suddenly blinded by the first tears she’d shed since her father died, she whirled around. She did not care if he noticed, nor if he thought her rude. She just had to get away.

She went inside, past the hall where she could hear the ongoing revelry, up the stone staircase to the first floor where her chamber was, then up to the second where the nursery was located.

Alasdair’s brother Reginald and his wife also had rooms on the first floor, as did Archibald, the third brother. Marjorie had a small cottage house away from the tower.

She went up to see the bairns. The nursery consisted of a small room where her son stayed except when she took him down to her own room, a sitting room that doubled as a play room, a bedchamber the lasses shared, and a tiny anteroom where Molly stayed.

Grace, the quiet one, was reading a book Janet had borrowed from the vicar. Her husband had not approved of lasses receiving an education. In truth, he had little himself, and there were no books at Lochaene. Janet was teaching her daughters to read with what books she could borrow.

Rachel was gazing out the window at the rare activity in the courtyard and Annabella was playing with a doll. They all looked up as she entered the room, Annabella getting up from a chair and scampering over to her.

“Where is Molly?” Janet asked. She’d told the girl to stay with the children. She should have known better. One more reason to discharge her.

“She leave us,” Annabella said forlornly. “I doan think she likes us.”

“Did you get something to eat?”

Annabella shook her head.

“Would you like some meat pies?”

“Aye,” Rachel said.

“And some pastries?” Annabella said hopefully. Then her face fell. “Father would no‘ like it.”

“Your father has gone to heaven,” Janet explained for the sixth or seventh time in the past four days. She sincerely doubted it, but she hadn’t wanted to scare the children with visions of another place. A small lie. A kind lie.

After her much greater sin of wishing her husband dead, she dinna think God would be too outraged at this small one.

“Will we go there, too?” Rachel, the curious one, asked.

“Not for a very long time, love.”

Janet looked toward Grace. “Will you look after your little brother?”

A smile lit Grace’s face. She loved nothing better than to be asked to do something. “I will,” she said.

Janet knelt and held out her arms. The three girls crowded inside them, the small bodies warm, their arms clinging. They’d all been starved for love when she came to Lochaene. She hadn’t been able to spoil them while their father lived. He’d seemed to object to every small gift or gesture. She would make up for it.

But now hugs were important to them. And to her.

Neil’s appearance had opened a wound that ran deep and wide.

It was all she could do to keep the tears banked behind her eyes, to hold in the hurt she thought she had conquered.

A few kind words had torn down all the barriers she’d so carefully constructed. She didn’t know why he had come, but she knew she had to be careful.

She also realized Neil Forbes was now a marquis, a higher rank than that of her husband, but he didn’t look like a marquis. But then he never had, and she recalled that his indifference to clothes was one of the things that attracted her. He’d worn saffron shirts open at the neck and a great tartan plaid that was now outlawed. He’d looked rugged and handsome.

And now? Though his clothes were stained with travel, she’d noted they were of good quality. He wore a dark blue waistcoat over a linen shirt with blue trousers tucked into dusty boots. Unlike most of the other lords, he did not wear a wig. Instead, his own hair was a little shaggy, as if he couldn’t be bothered with it.

Neither had there been any softening in his face despite his kind words.

She steeled herself against seeing him again. She would endeavor to stay away from him. Surely he would not stay long, especially since it seemed he’d brought little with him.

Janet slowly untangled herself from the children. “I will be right back,” she promised.

She made her way down the stairs. All the servants had been recruited to help with the food and drink for the many guests. Molly, she thought, was probably servicing one of them, or one of their servants, in the barn. Another problem to be solved.

The great hall was more boisterous than ever. She hesitated. She did not have to pass it to go into the kitchen but her eyes were drawn to it. Not it it, she knew, but to one of the newly arrived guests.

The Marquis of Braemoor was talking to Marjorie. He happened to look up then, as if he expected her. His gaze met hers, and for a moment she thought her legs would give way. The intensity in his eyes reached across the room. Voices in the room seemed to slow, and she wondered whether it were just the effect he had on her or whether her presence had actually lowered the amount of conversation.

She turned and left, wondering what Marjorie was telling him, what others were saying. A poor wife. A bad marriage. Poison. She could almost hear Marjorie’s sharp words.

Why did she care what he thought? He hadn’t wanted her years ago and it had broken her heart. He was a very wealthy man, according to rumor, a favorite of Cumberland who had little use for most Scots. That reminder should dampen any warm memories. She despised Cumberland. So why was she reacting like this?

The unexpected kindness? God knew it had been a long time since she’d known any.

The kitchens were full of workers, most of them hired only for this day. The food costs alone would mean she would have to be careful the rest of the year. She hadn’t seen the books yet, but she suspected that her husband had spent more than the revenues.

Pies were coming out of the ovens. She took one along with three meat pastries and a crock of milk. She hadn’t eaten this day, and she did not think she could. Surprisingly, the Marquis of Braemoor was at the stone steps, looking as if he’d been waiting for her.

“Can I be helping you with the tray?” he asked.

Nay
. “Aye,” she said, leaving pride behind for a moment. She hadn’t realized how much she needed a kind word, nor someone who had known her father. “If you can take the crock of milk.”

She led the way. The wall sconces had been lit and they spread shadows on the stone. She stumbled once, her foot catching on an uneven piece of stone, and she felt the strength of his arm steadying her.

It’s the day of your husband’s funeral
. She kept reminding herself of that.

They reached the top of the second set of steps and she led the way to the
nursery. He had one hand free and he opened it...

“Ma...”

The exclamation stopped suddenly as three pairs of light blue eyes looked at the Marquis of Braemoor. He was taller than Janet’s husband and solidly built. Annabella dove behind a chest, Rachel ducked into the room next door. Grace paled. Only Colin was undisturbed, and that was because he was sleeping.

Janet looked up at Neil. He had a panicked look on his face as well.

Janet put the tray loaded with pies on a table, then held out her hand to Grace.

“Grace, this is the Marquis of Braemoor.”

Grace took a few faltering steps, hanging back as much as she could.

“He won’t hurt you, love.”

Grace did not look convinced.

Then he knelt and held out his hand. “I am Neil.”

Grace curtsied but remained at a distance. Neil rose, looking as uncomfortable as a man could. “I had best leave.”

“Thank you for helping me,” Janet said.

He nodded and disappeared out the door.

“He’s verra‘ big,” Grace said.

“I know, love,” Janet replied, “but...” She had started to say “he’s not like your father.”

But she did not know that. He had betrayed her once before. And certainly her husband had not been what she’d thought. How could she be so foolish again. It had just been his sudden appearance ...

And the only kindness she’d known in far too long. But he’d been kind before. It meant nothing.

Nothing.

Neil felt like a monster. He’d not been around children since he was a child himself, if indeed he had ever been a child. But he’d never considered himself a frightening figure, or that children would hide from him.

Feeling their fear, he’d tried to extricate himself from the room as quickly as possible. But not before he saw a glimpse of sympathy cross Janet’s face.

By the devil, he never should have come here. He’d known it all the way here, and yet something had pulled him like a puppet master pulled strings. He’d especially known it when he’d seen her lean against the gray stone of Lochaene.

She’d looked drawn and tired. Her eyes were circled with dark rings. And yet she’d drawn herself up with that same grace and dignity he’d remembered. A spark flashed in her dark blue eyes, but then it had fled, leaving dark, unfathomable pools. There was no hint of the laughter he remembered, the tenderness. Her face was handsome, though. The high cheekbones and fine delicate lines made it one of those faces that improved, rather than deteriorated, with years.

Anger had flickered in her eyes when she’d recognized him. He was sure that were it not for the rules of hospitality she would ask him to leave. Instead, she’d straightened her back, and defiance and pride shielded her face. The hint of tears, though, almost undid him.

He’d hoped she would be happy, that she would make a good marriage. The night he’d heard of her marriage, he drunk himself into a stupor but he’d wished her well. He’d heard stories of her husband, and they had not been pleasant ones.

Still, he’d hoped, and yet the moment he’d seen her face, the spirit drained from it, he’d known it had been false hope. His .. . sacrifice had been in vain.

It had been all he could do to keep from taking her into his arms. But nothing had really changed. Oh, he was a wealthy man now, and he bore a title, but the madness still haunted his past, would always do so.

And so he had kept his voice measured, his arms to himself. In the great hall, he’d listened to the rumors, the charges. Marjorie Campbell, the late earl’s mother, had seized upon him the moment she learned his identity.

“We are honored by your presence.”

“My condolences on the loss of your son,” Neil said. He also considered telling her he was a friend of the countess, but then he probably would not learn anything. And, in truth, he was considered no friend by Janet Campbell, not if her measured greeting had been any sign.

He’d allowed the dowager countess to believe that her family was important enough to draw a marquis to her son’s funeral and listened as she regaled him with all her daughter-in-law’s faults.

“She could even kill the children,” the woman had muttered, not caring whether anyone had heard. He’d been appalled by the depth of the animosity in the hall, by the way the dowager countess had moved from visitor to visitor, spreading the poison as she went.

Then she’d moved closer to him. “I hear you have the ear of His Grace, Lord Cumberland. You should ask him to look into the matter.”

“What about the authorities here?”

She waved her hand in disdain. “They fear to do anything, but His Grace could rule that Lochaene should go to Reginald, my oldest son. ‘Tis only right.”

He’d had to swallow the bile in his throat at her plotting on the day of her son’s burial.

“I will tell him all that has happened,” he promised and tried to sidle away.

She followed. “She is a Jacobite, you know. You tell His Grace that. I am sure he would prefer this land in the hands of a family who has been loyal to him and his brother, King George.”

“I am sure he values loyalty,” Neil agreed, knowing full well that Cumberland valued nothing but his own power. He would toss these people off their land in a second if he thought he would gain from it.

He drank one glass of not very good ale, then had a need for fresh air. It was then he noticed Janet trying to balance a heavily laden tray.

Without thinking, he rushed to her aid, and was surprised when she accepted his offer.

But up the stairs and into the nursery, he was all arms and legs and awkwardness. He knew his size terrorized the children, or was it all men? He knew that look in their eyes, the fear of being hit. Bloody hell, he knew it too well.

He’d wanted to leave but he could not. He saw her face as she tried to reassure the children. Her too-pale, too-thin face relaxed, and those dark blue eyes filled with love. And tenderness. The kind he remembered from those brief days together. The years between those days and this one disappeared, and he was seized with a need and longing so great his legs almost buckled under his weight.

He stepped outside. He had to, before he made a great fool of himself. He knew he had to leave. This night. Or he would break the vow he’d made. But first he had to let her know she had a friend.

It was the least he could do.

He thought of Rory, who had repeatedly risked his life to save others, people he didn’t know, people he’d once fought. He wished he had only a measure of Rory’s character. And yet how many years had he decried his cousin as a wastrel and fool? Even a coward. He should have seen under the facade, should have taken the time to find the true worth.

He tried to help others now in his own stumbling way. He’d tried to better the lives of his tenants, tried to influence neighboring landlords from clearing their lands. But it was so little compared to his cousin.

What would he do if someone came to him for help? Would he risk the people at Braemoor for strangers? It was a question without an answer.

Several moments later, he heard the door open.

An exclamation escaped Janet when she realized he was still there, standing in wait for her.

She quickly moved away. Little this day had hurt as much.

“I will not be touching you, lass,” he said. “I just wanted you to know I’ll be leaving Lochaene this night.”

Her mouth formed an O in surprise, but she did not reply.

“I did not mean to frighten the wee ones,” he said. “I did not think I was that fierce.”