The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride (25 page)

Morven’s fear dissipated and her heart melted at the scene in front of her. The big, redheaded giant of a man cradling the tiny, scrawny sandy-coloured animal should have looked ridiculous, but instead it looked… dependable… loveable… sweet. She bit back a chuckle. She best not mention that. ‘Oh the poor thing. Where is his mama?’

Fraser sighed. ‘Dead I fear. I found her in the stable. With two other kittens, who sadly also haven’t made it, which is what kept me. I fear this wee one is all that’s left.’ He upended the animal. ‘It’s a he.’

Morven thought rapidly. ‘Ahh, do you er need…’

‘A mouser?’ Fraser finished. ‘No but I suspect a new house cat won’t go amiss. Here, you can hold him and look after him for now.’ He passed the kitten over. ‘I wouldn’t leave him here at the mercy of the McGill family, if we feel the lodge will suit. Those bairns are wild. The sooner the new schoolroom is finished the better. At the moment they can only attend lessons for half a day. After the harvest, the new classroom will be ready for use and they will be expected to attend a whole day.’

Morven took the animal automatically and giggled as a rough tongue rasped her hand. ‘They might not want to.’

‘They will have no option. My land, my rules.’

She shrugged. ‘As it should be.’ The kitten meowed. ‘He agrees. May I name him?’

He nodded. ‘Your choice, but please nothing from Scottish, or for that matter English, history. Whatever you choose you’ll upset someone.’

Morven cuddled and stroked the scrap, who snuggled up to her chest and clawed her jacket as if to anchor himself. ‘How old is he do you think?’

Fraser squinted at the kitten. ‘Around six weeks I’d say. Not quite weaned but eyes open and purring.’

Morven glanced down at the animal. His purr
was
loud and his squeak frantic. ‘Poor little orphan. I think he’s hungry.’

‘More than likely—Lord knows how long his mama has been dead. You’re going to be busy. Hopefully, there’s milk in the saddlebag. Let’s get inside and see if we can fashion him a bed and then, Mama, you can feed your bairn.’

Those words sent tingles into her and unknowingly she put her hand to her stomach. Would he say that to her if she carried their child? Watch her grow large and then nurse? Morven shook herself.
He is taking about a kitten not a child.

‘I think I’ll call him Lucky,’ she said and cursed the hitch in her voice. Really it was pathetic to become mawkish over a fleeting thought.

‘Lucky?’

‘Well,’ she said in a defiant tone as she defended her choice. ‘He’s lucky we came today, and I don’t think your mama would be pleased if we called him after her.’ She sniggered suddenly. ‘And my mama certainly wouldn’t.’

‘I’m sure she wouldn’t,’ Fraser agreed with a smirk. ‘Very well, Lucky it is. Bring him along. We’ll go in through the main entrance for good fortune. Should I carry you over the threshold?’

Fraser opened the door with a very ornate key. The bottom scraped over the stone flags with a screech that set Morven’s teeth on edge, and she forbore to comment. It was becoming more and more obvious the place needed attention. He swung her and the kitten into his arms and spun around.

Morven shrieked and gripped his shoulders with one hand and Lucky with the other.

‘You idiot, what if I fall?’

Fraser strode over the lintel and kicked the door closed behind her before he set her down on her feet. The room swung around her and she closed her eyes until she was once more steady.

‘Ach, love, I’ll always be there to catch you, never fear.’

Morven smiled dreamily at that thought. ‘Just as well I believe you.’ She sniffed the air as Fraser parted the long curtains, which covered the windows on either side of the entrance and allowed light to shine in. ‘It’s not dusty,’ she said in surprise.

‘No,’ Fraser agreed grimly. ‘Strange that.’ He opened one door and grunted. The kitchen is spotless, also. Come on, let’s rummage and look for a basket for Lucky.’

Morven followed him and looked about keenly. The skirting boards showed no dust, the windowpanes no grime, and the kitchen sink no stains.

‘How long did you say this had been empty?’ she enquired as she put Lucky on the floor and watched him sniff into the corners before he settled across her foot and closed his eyes.

‘Not as long as I’ve been told it seems.’ Fraser put the saddlebags on the scrubbed kitchen table and pulled out a chair. ‘Or we have very tidy kelpies or brownies popping in without telling me. Take a seat while I go for a look next door.’ He disappeared through a doorway to her left and within seconds heard a triumphant “ah ha” float back.

Fraser reappeared a few moments later, waving a circular wicker basket and what looked like a pile of linens. ‘Perfect for Lucky. Behold, his bed and bedding.’

Lucky opened his eyes, yawned and meowed.

‘He says thank you and now he wants some milk,’ Morven said with a lilt to her voice. ‘It was lucky for Lucky we came here today.’

Fraser placed the basket in front of the unlit range and lifted the kitten into it. ‘Milk will be next on the agenda.’

Lucky meowed.

Morven laughed. ‘I think somewhere for him to do his business must also be high on there.’

Fraser laughed reluctantly. ‘There is a big wide world out there,’ he pointed out. ‘With lots of soil and leaf mould.’

‘And lots of enemies for a poor defenceless kitten. A bowl and some of that leaf mould would be perfect.’ Morven looked at him pleadingly. ‘It can live in the scullery for now. I would go but…’ She gestured to her feet where once more Lucky had curled up. Evidently the basket didn’t hold as much of his attention as Morven’s soft kid footwear. ‘My boots are a stand-in mother.’

‘Then what can I say?’ Fraser walked towards the scullery. ‘If your new lord and master lets you move, perhaps you could see what exactly is in those saddlebags?’ He disappeared from view and Morven picked Lucky up. ‘Basket for now, whilst I check the food and drink situation.’

The kitten blinked and yawned. Morven laughed. ‘You wouldn’t be so uncaring if I find nothing that suits you.’ She plonked him in the basket, opened the first saddlebag and then rocked back on her heels.

There was enough food to feed the castle for a week. Not just mundane things, but the finest champagne, salmon and a game pie. Fruits and a lemon posset as well as bread, cheese and a twist of tea.

What on earth was going on? She moved on to the next bag and took out milk. Lucky lapped up what she put into a dish and began to groom himself. Morven turned her attention back to the provisions. Next came cream, butter, lard and haggis and good grief, cutlery, china crockery and glasses. How they hadn’t smashed on the journey she had no idea.

The back door opened and a gust of wind teased her ankles. Morven looked up to see Fraser re-enter the house. His hair was all over the place, his jacket and shirt splattered with raindrops, and in his arms he carried a shallow basin full of soil and leaf mould.

‘Brrr, the day seems to have forgotten it is summer. I swear there is sleet in the wind. If it doesn’t abate we’ll have trouble getting back.’ He put the basin inside the scullery and picked up Lucky. ‘This is for you. Do as you should and we will all be pleased.’ The kitten mewed.

‘Just so,’ Fraser said with a laugh as he turned back to look at Morven. ‘Are you all right? You look puzzled.’

‘Ah…’ She pointed to the window where rain had begun to pound the glass. ‘Did you have any idea the weather was to become like this?’

Fraser shook his head. ‘The last I was told was it was set fine. Even the barometer indicated it to be so.’

A nasty itch tickled her spine. The one she knew never to ignore. ‘Hmm. I suspect someone knew, and tampered with the barometer, then.’ Morven indicated the saddlebags, and the food on the table around them. ‘Somewhat excessive for a simple lunch, unless we were supposed to notice it and share our largesse around the village?’

‘Unlikely.’ Fraser peered at the food. ‘With this? Very, very unlikely.’

Morven nodded and the itch disappeared once his thoughts coincided with hers. ‘How much will you wager there is kindling and coals ready to use?’

‘And sheets on the bed?’ Fraser added. ‘Candles, tinderbox and blankets?’

‘At the very least.’

‘No takers. Shall we explore?’

‘Let’s.’

The house had an air of expectancy about it. As if it was waiting to be filled with people and laughter. As they wandered from room to tidy room, Morven began to hum. Fraser looked at her quizzically.

‘What?’ she asked him, puzzled. ‘Why are you staring at me as if I have a spot on my nose or a spider in my hair? I don’t, do I?’

Fraser flicked her nose. ‘No spot,’ he assured her. ‘No arachnids. Nothing nasty at all. You’re humming, and I have never heard you do that before. It’s charming, and positive I hope. Tell me, is that a good or a bad sign?’

‘I am?’ She hadn’t realised. ‘I think it must be a good thing. This house is lovely. It will be perfect for those families if you can bear to let them use it.’ She slanted what she hoped was an amorous glance at him from under her lowered lashes.

He appeared perplexed. Perhaps she needed to try another tack. ‘You know, you might feel it’s not appropriate.’

‘Why should I not?’

‘Because.’ She rubbed herself up against him suggestively and a hard something—something just for her she hoped—pressed against her belly. ‘Not that I don’t want the house to be used, temporarily, but I wondered, seeing as you carried me over the threshold, and that is, I have heard it said, supposed to signify our first night together, if not our first home, we might make happy memories here. Some which we would like to re-create one day.’

Fraser clenched her rear and moved her from side to side over his erection. ‘We will make happy memories and we will re-create them one day, I promise.’ He paused and kissed her swiftly. His tongue dived between her lips and as he parted them he teased her mouth, nipping the soft skin and sucking it better.

Morven moaned deep in her throat and matched his caresses. When he finally drew back his face was flushed and her body on fire.

‘After our temporary occupants leave.’

Chapter Fourteen

‘Well.’ Some hours or so later, Morven sounded dazed, as well she might, Fraser decided. He felt pretty much that way himself.

‘Well, really, what in Hades is this all about?’ She accepted the glass of wine he poured for her with an absent acknowledgement. ‘I mean,’ she said in a musing tone, ‘bed made up, bath ready to be filled, even heavens above a spare set of clothes for us each. I feel we have been set up for something. And my itch is back. The one Tam and Beshlie say makes me over aware of things.’

‘Badly?’

She considered, and frowned. ‘Not at the “someone is going to try and kill us” stage, but the “playing with us” stage perhaps. I wish now I’d asked Beshlie to explain what else I could discover about it, but at the time, we had more pressing things to achieve.

Like saying I do.

He grinned and winked. ‘So I won’t need to keep my pistol on me. Which could be difficult, for if the intention is for us to stay here…’

She looked at him enquiringly. ‘Yes?’

‘No nightwear.’

‘I noticed,’ Morven said grimly. ‘And I’m not baring my all if something strange might be about to happen. I’ll wear your shirt. What else? Oh yes, enough food for at least a week, enough wine to bathe in, and my hairbrush. Of all the things to be sent with us. Do you smell a conspiracy of sorts?’

He shrugged. ‘Of sorts. We can of course try to get us and Lucky home.’

Morven walked across to the window of the sitting room, glared at the sleet streaming down the panes and shuddered. ‘Perhaps not.’

Fraser added more logs to the fire. Once they had explored, he had suggested they sit in this comfortable room with a warming fire in the hearth rather than the kitchen. He’d advised against trying to get back to the castle. He knew what the ominous grey colour of the sky meant, even in the summer. Now he was glad he had and Morven had concurred. The elements were getting worse, and had a look of a long and prolonged bout of bad weather to it. He blessed the fact there had been plenty of fuel, for although he’d got the kitchen range alight, that room was chilly and nowhere near as welcoming as this tiny sitting room. In here with Lucky snoring in his basket his tummy rounded with salmon and milk, it was homely.

‘You agree then, the families can divide this house satisfactorily for the months needed until we can rehouse them properly?’ he asked as he swirled his wine and gazed into the ruby red depths. ‘The youngsters and their parents downstairs using the three rooms at the end, and the others upstairs. To share the kitchen?’

‘It seems the best way. I can see no reason to add a kitchen or scullery for a few months. And let’s face it; they will have plenty of room here. And on a good day, a beautiful view.’ She shivered. ‘Not today any more. Dammit, Fraser, I so wanted to see what happened next.’

‘I have a feeling we will whatever we do,’ Fraser said. ‘One thing though? Do we sit meekly and await whatever our parents have prepared for us? Or do we take fate into our own hands?’ He swallowed the rest of his wine, sat down in the chair next to Morven and folded his hands over his middle and looked at her broodingly. ‘I have a distaste with regards to being manipulated.’

Morven set her wine down on the table and leaned towards him so their knees touched. ‘I also. What do you suggest?’

‘Well…’ Fraser looked at her with speculation. How would she react to his suggestions? ‘We have several options. One we use separate rooms and hope they believe us.’

Morven snorted. ‘As if. Either us doing it or them believing it. Plus there is only enough bedding for the bed prepared for us. And we are now officially wed.’

He inclined his head. ‘We know that; they do not, and I am not inclined to tell them until we think fit. Which leads me to my second suggestion. We share a room, and leave before whatever is to befall us, does befall us.’ He brooded over that for a second. ‘And to hell with them all. This is our life.’

‘Can you see us able to do that? After we have spent the night in the same bed?’ Morven shook her head. ‘And we will still need to find out what they intend. Forewarned is forearmed as they say. What else?’