The Highlander's Choice (14 page)

“You should give the laird an earful when he returns.” Bessie bustled around the room, pulling out a fresh gown for Sybil to change into for dinner.

“Were you able to secure me a bath?” Sybil asked from the bed. Her eyes were so heavy, all she wanted to do was sleep.

“Yes. I managed to convince one of the lads from the kitchen to bring up some water.”

“Oh, thank you so much.”

Bessie hurried to the door at the sound of a scratch and opened to two large men carrying in a bathtub. “We will bring up the water for ye, lass, as soon as we get this set up.”

Feeling awkward, Sybil rose from the bed. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“If ye don’t mind me saying so, my lady, I don’t think what the mistress is doing to ye is verra nice.” The younger of the two men placed his hands on his hips and glowered.

She waved a dismissal. This was her battle and although it was nice to have advocates, the last thing she wanted to do was cause dissension among the household. It would only give the witch more fodder for her campaign.

Once bathed and dried off, Sybil passed on dinner to have a tray in her room. Of course, Bessie had to battle Cook to get the tray. It seems the kitchen staff had been given orders not to allow trays in the bedchambers any longer. Only Bessie’s persuasive skills and Cook’s regret at how the mistress of the house was behaving to their guest released the tray into her maid’s hands.

After Bessie watched over every morsel Sybil put into her mouth did the woman allow her charge to climb into bed, where she fell sound asleep within minutes.

Chapter Fourteen

Liam glanced up from his place at the table as Sybil entered the morning room. The lass looked fatigued, and seemed surprised to see him. “Good morning, darlin’.” He hopped up and pulled out the chair next to him.

Sybil covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned, and sat. “When did you get home?”

“Verra late last night. Everyone was already abed.”

“How did your visits go?” Once again she yawned, her eyes watering as she tried to hold it in.

Before he could answer her question or ask about her weariness, his mum swept into the room, casting a warm glance at him, and a very cold one at Sybil. He sighed inwardly. He really needed to spend some time with mum and convince her that Sybil was verra different from her view of the English.

“When did you return?” Mum took her seat and poured tea into her cup.

“Last night.” He turned toward Sybil. “The visits went well. I had a number of problems to solve for the tenants.” He paused. “That reminds me, I want to introduce you to some of the clan. They’re looking forward to meeting you.”

“Really?” his mum said. “And why would Clan MacBride be interested in meeting the Sassenach?”

“Mum!”

Her face colored, but her chin edged up in defiance. “I dinnae understand why a
guest
should be introduced to the clan.”

Sybil reached out and touched his arm, apparently not wanting to make a scene. She was right, of course. When he and his mum had the conversation about her rudeness it would best be done in private.

“Ach, lass. What happened to yer hands!” Liam ran his fingers over her skin—dry chapped, and reddened. She quickly pulled her hand back and placed them both in her lap.

Sybil glanced quickly up at his mum who calmly took a sip of her tea, although there was a slight flush to her cheeks.

“Nothing. I forgot to wear gloves when I went for walk in the cold air yesterday. I’ll put more cream on my hands this afternoon.”

“The air isna that cold.”

“Mayhap the English can’t tolerate a bit of cool air,” his mum said.

He might not be the smartest of men when it came to women, but there was definitely something going on at his breakfast table.

“Will Lord Templeton be arriving today?” Sybil asked.

“Who?”

“Lord Templeton. Your guest?”

“I know of no Lord Templeton.” The lass was surely acting strange. And what was stranger still were the dark looks Sybil was hurling in his mum’s direction. Definitely something odd going on. “Faith! What is the matter with the two of ye?”

“Nothing.” They both mumbled in unison.

He tightened his lips in frustration. Mayhap a change of subject would ease some of the tension in the room. “Where are Catriona and Alanna? They’re usually the first ones down in the morning.”

“Miss Dubbins took the lasses to Inverness for a day or two. They should be back this afternoon.”

Another unusual occurrence. To his knowledge, his mum had never permitted his sisters to go gallivanting about for an overnight trip with their governess. ’Twas no matter. Now that he was home, his time would be better spent trying to convince Sybil that she should marry him.

His time away had seemed to go on forever. Leaving the comfort of her arms without a promise to accept his proposal had worn on his mind the entire time he’d been gone. Even more disturbing was how awful he felt at the thought of her rejecting him and returning home. If he cared to examine the situation a little closer, he feared he’d find his heart already taken with the lass.

Liam wiped his mouth on a napkin and turned to Mum. “During my visits, many of the clan expressed an interest in meeting Duncan’s bride since so many of us have ties to The McKinnon.”

“Another Sassenach,” his mum muttered.

“Aye, an English lass.” He narrowed his eyes. “A verra fine woman. I promised to hold a ball to welcome the new laird’s wife. I’m thinking two weeks would give ye enough time to do whatever it is ye women do for such things.”

“I dinnae like the idea of honoring an Englishwoman.”

Liam leaned forward, his muscles tightening at his mum’s continued resistance to the way things were. “As yer laird, I’m telling ye to prepare for a ball to welcome the new bride.”

…

Sybil watched with dismay the play between Liam and his mother. Goodness, the woman was stubborn. Her face flushed and her eyes snapped, but a lifetime of adhering to the laird’s wishes eventually won out, and she gave a brief nod.

“As ye wish,
my laird
.” She stood abruptly, before Liam could draw her chair out, and swept from the room, closing the door a bit stronger than was necessary.

“Truth! I don’t understand the woman,” Liam said, wincing at the sound of the door.

Sybil understood the woman perfectly. She was a stubborn, nasty woman who cared nothing for people’s feelings. But those observations were best kept to herself. Lady MacBride also represented the main reason she was dithering on Liam’s offer of marriage.

During the hours she’d spent cleaning rooms—apparently
not
needed for a guest—polishing silverware, scrubbing floors, and peeling mounds of vegetables, she’d had plenty of time to think about the man sitting near her. Just his closeness caused shivers to run down her spine. His still damp hair from his bath had been pulled back and fastened with a tie, making her ache to loosen it and run her fingers through the silky strands.

Her memories of their last time together caused her to flush and her heart to speed up. She viewed his large hands as they fingered his coffee cup, remembering how they’d swept over her body, bringing her such pleasure.

“I will be talking to my mum to make sure she welcomes Lady McKinnon.”

Perhaps he was trying to convince himself, because he certainly was not convincing her. “I will be happy to help with the preparations. I assisted my mother with numerous parties and balls.”

“Aye, that would be wonderful.” He reached out and covered her raw hand with his. She curled it into a ball to keep him from commenting again on its condition. Doubtless Lady MacBride expected her to complain to Liam about how she’d been treated while he was gone. She would not give the woman the satisfaction of reminding her son that all English women were pampered, useless creatures. It was a battle between her and the witch. If she accepted Liam’s proposal—and each day it seemed more likely—that was an issue she would have to deal with herself.

“I have things that need my attention this morning, but I would like to take you into the village this afternoon and introduce you to more of my clan.”

She sat mesmerized as his thumb wandered carelessly over her hand, distracting her from his words.

“Sybil?”

“Ah. Yes.” She forced her gaze up to his face. That was no better. The twinkle in his eyes told her he knew where her thoughts were. Heat rose to her face. “I would like that very much.”

Before she completely recovered, he cupped her neck, and pulled her close until their lips met. The fact that her breast was practically in her tea cup barely registered as his mouth covered hers and any sense of time and place fled. She anchored her hands on his shoulders so she wouldn’t fall completely into her eggs and kippers.

Within minutes and not at all certain how it had happened, she found herself on his lap, her fingers caressing his face. Liam pulled back, both of them panting heavily. “Ach, Sybil. Ye make me daft. I want to lock the door once more and have my way with ye.”

Sybil scooted from his lap and returned to her seat. “No. We were fair lucky the last time, we cannot keep this up.”

“Aye, lass. ’Tis too late for that. I am already up.” He grinned at her, no doubt enjoying how her flushed face colored even more.

“Nevertheless, I will leave you now.” She stood, straightening her gown and raising her chin. “I must see to my correspondence. What time shall I expect to accompany you on your visits this afternoon?”

“Right after luncheon.” He reached out and patted her backside, raising a squeal as she hurried from the room. His laughter echoed behind her as she closed the door.

…

The sun broke through the thick layer of clouds that had been with them for days when she and Liam set out in his carriage to call on the villagers. She retied her bonnet securely under her chin as the wind picked up. She’d spent a great deal of time slathering her hands with cream, but still made sure they were snugly encased in gloves so Liam wouldn’t comment on their state.

So there was no Lord Templeton coming for a visit that needed the room she’d been assigned to clean. While not necessarily surprised at that turn of events, she didn’t know whether to condemn or applaud the woman’s audacity. On the other hand, she could be tenacious herself, and at this point she was not going to let the witch win. If she decided not to accept Liam’s proposal it would not be because of Lady MacBride.

While her thoughts were wandering, they’d passed a low, stone wall that surrounded the village proper. Liam took a turn into an opening and their carriage rolled onto what appeared to be a main street. Shops lined the area on each side and several women walked along the street, holding packages, some hanging onto small children. It looked no different than any village in England. In fact, her family’s country home, situated in Donridge Heath, had a small village almost identical to this one.

Liam drove them into a well-sized stable and pulled up on the reins. The familiar smell of fresh hay and horses greeted her. Dust motes danced in the air from the sunlight streaming through the small window.

“My laird, ’tis a fine day to be out and about, aye?” A stout man with a lengthy red beard wiped his hands on his pants and walked up to them, tugging on the brim of his cap. “Will ye be staying for a while, then?”

“Aye, MacDermott. I’ll be showing our fine village to Lady Sybil.” He jumped from the carriage seat and handed off the reins to the man. In two strides he was around the vehicle and clasped her waist, lifting her down as if she weighed no more than a feather.

“And ’tis a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Sybil.”

“Thank you, Mr. MacDermott, It is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The stable man turned to Liam. “An English lass, aye, Laird?”

“Aye, and a lovely one at that.”

Decidedly uncomfortable with both men staring at her and grinning, she tossed her head. “Shall we take the tour, my laird?”

Liam extended his arm, and she placed her hand there, whereupon he tugged her closer and tucked her arm all the way in, clasping her hand. “Dinna want ye to fall, lass.” He gave her a rakish wink.

My, how the man can heat my blood with the slightest effort.
Trying to distract herself from the warmth and enticing smell of leather and starched linen radiating from his body, she focused on the lovely village.

“Oh, I thought we were going to the same village we visited from Dundas.”

“Nay. This village is home to my clan,” he said as his arm swept the area.

Tidy shops lined both sides of the street, again reminiscent of her village back home. As much as she’d enjoyed the Season each year in London, it was always with a sigh of relief that she had returned to the family manor in Donridge Heath. Her only source of regret had been the realization that another Season had passed without meeting her true love. She glanced sideways at the man at her side. Could it be because her true love had never attended a London Season?

“At the end of the street there is a lovely book store. Perhaps you would like to make a visit?”

“Yes. I would love that. Perhaps we can find a new book from Miss Austen to read in the evenings.”

The light jingle of a bell announced their arrival. The shop was well stocked for a small village store. After also remarking on her English background, the owner struck up a lively conversation, revealing how his love of books stemmed from his father who had been a professor at Edinburg University. “Where ye attended, my laird.”

Sybil cast a quick glance at Liam. “You attended Edinburg University?”

“Aye. I studied mathematics. I’ve a love for numbers.”

Another surprise. Although she wasn’t sure exactly why. Liam was obviously a very intelligent man, a far cry from her first impression of him. How unfair she’d been in her assessment of all Scotsmen. Any guilt she might have felt was quickly squelched, however, when she remembered how he’d first viewed her. They had certainly learned a lot.

The shop owner was a pleasant man, eager to share his passion for the printed word. After a while, the discourse turned to stories about people she didn’t know. With Liam busy chatting, Sybil drifted away and perused the shelves, thrilled at the selection to be found in such a tiny village.

Concentrating on the bounty in front of her, she jumped when Liam spoke. “Please excuse me, lass, for neglecting ye so.”

“No need to apologize. I am enjoying myself immensely.” She pointed to a stack of books resting on a small table next to her. “Look at all the wonderful novels I found.”

“’Twill be a pleasure to hear you read to me at night.” The twinkle in his eyes said something different than his words.

Not wanting to have to fan her face again to keep the heat down, she quickly retrieved the books and headed to the counter. His soft laughter followed her down the aisle.

Loaded down with her purchases—including Miss Austen’s new book—they left the shop.

They strolled through the village, stopping to chat, and every person she met was pleasant and welcoming. It was truly too bad the one person whose regard she would like treated her like a pariah. The shops they entered were well appointed and managed by stocky, cheerful people. She was particularly taken with Mrs. Amish MacBride who sold lovely, soft Scottish woolen sweaters and scarves made by her and her five daughters.

Before she could refuse, Liam had asked Mrs. MacBride to fashion a scarf and glove set for her. The sparkle in the woman’s eyes radiated approval of her laird and the lady he accompanied. Sybil felt the happiest she’d been since she’d arrived at Bedlay. Not everyone, apparently, held her in disdain.