A Borrowed Scot (29 page)

Slowly, Veronica stood, then impulsively bent and kissed the old woman on the cheek.

“May I leave the mirror with you?” Veronica asked.

“I would be pleased to return it to where I found it,” Mary said. “A full circle.”

“Thank you,” Veronica said softly, and left the cottage.

Her attention was caught by a figure on a nearby hill. As she watched, she realized it was Montgomery standing there. She raised her arm to signal him, and he responded in kind.

A borrowed Scot? Not that man. He looked at home, striding with confident steps as if he belonged in Scotland. He did, but would Montgomery realize it?

Chapter 30

M
ontgomery had left his carriage in Inverness, and when they arrived back in the city, he sent Veronica’s coachman on an errand, to find Edmund Kerr and tell him he was needed at Doncaster Hall.

Instead of remaining overnight either at Perth or Inverness, they’d chosen to return home. Another dawn found them nearly there, his arm around Veronica’s shoulders as she dozed.

She hadn’t mentioned what she’d discussed with Old Mary, and her only comment about the mirror had been that it belonged with the Tullochs. He’d not disputed the claim or pressed her for more details. They’d said farewell to Elspeth and Robbie, who were going to stay with Elspeth’s relatives another day or so before returning to Doncaster Hall.

“Won’t you miss her help?” he’d asked, as they were leaving Perth.

She’d sent him a look that warned him it had been a foolish question.

“I never had a maid of my own until I married you.”

“Many things have changed in the last two months.”

She’d only smiled at that remark.

He gently cradled her as she slept, grateful beyond measure he’d gone to the Society of the Mercaii that night.

Once home, they slept for a few hours. He loved Veronica at dawn, slipping inside her, their bodies rising and falling in a slow, seductive, drugging rhythm. He’d wanted to pleasure her but pleased himself as well, lost in her. He slid one hand beneath her buttocks, lifted her, intent on giving her more, needing to give her more. She arched against him, a sound of surrender escaping her full and well-kissed lips.

Later that morning, he returned to the distillery to find Ralston had been busy in his absence.

The rest of the envelope had been retrieved and lay on the grass in strips. The silk was too damaged to be used again, but he thanked Ralston for his effort regardless.

“I’m going up tomorrow,” he told Ralston, waiting for the other man’s response.

“In what, Your Lordship?” Ralston asked, frowning. “The envelope is in shreds, and you’ve removed the baffles from your balloon to use on the ship.”

He smiled, pleased at Ralston’s knowledge. “You know that, and I know that, but no one else does. I’d like you to spread the word I’ll be flying again tomorrow.”

Ralston’s brow furrowed. “Your Lordship, wide ears and short tongues are best, but I’m curious. Why?”

“Someone wanted my airship to fail, Ralston.”

The other man nodded, suddenly understanding. “You’re setting a trap, then, sir?”

“I am,” he said.

“May I assist you, sir?”

He smiled. “Indeed you may. First, I’d like you to spread the word. Second, let me know when Edmund arrives, and third, join me back here once it’s dark. Bring Tom. We’ll need reinforcements. But no one else is to know.”

Ralston nodded, looking pleased at his assignments.

Montgomery had taken the precaution of arming himself with the pistol he’d brought from Virginia. He hid it behind one of the abandoned whiskey kettles, studying the layout with an eye to tonight’s performance. He’d settle himself into a depression in the earthen floor and wait.

First, however, he had another, even more important, task to perform.

He found Veronica an hour later, a good distance from Doncaster Hall, standing atop a knoll.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he reached her.

“Saying goodbye,” she said, not turning.

“Goodbye?”

She nodded.

“To me?” Damned if his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

“No,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “To the past.”

He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him.

“Look around you, Montgomery Fairfax. What do you see?”

Green, rolling glens gave way to brushy hills covered by undulating flocks of sheep with black faces and shaggy coats. Beyond, the mountains were dark gray, the color of shale, punched into relief by black shadows, and highlighted by a midday sun. Even farther, the high peaks of mountains, already dusted with snow, poked at the sky.

Slashes of color brightened the landscape: a touch of purple, a soft blue, and here and there, a flavor of yellow in the form of an intrepid wildflower blooming brightly against a rock wall.

A soft wind blew from the west, ruffling the surface of the river to the left. The scent was one he’d come to recognize as uniquely Scotland: a hint of chill in the air, the smell of moss, and a something he’d been told was peat.

In the distance, the ruins of a crofter’s hut attested that someone had lived here once, braving the weather and the isolation with the same insouciance as the sheep still did.

“Scotland isn’t just the scenery,” she said, turning in his arms, curving her palms around his elbows. “It’s a place. A feeling. Spirit, will, struggle, the essence of life itself. It’s all here. There’s power here, Montgomery, can’t you feel it?”

He looked down at her. Her face was luminous, as if she were lit from within. She took his breath away.

He loved the sound of her voice, the way she pronounced words, the lilt of it, the flavor of Scotland in her speech.

“And sheep,” he said, looking where she gestured. “Don’t forget sheep. No wonder we eat so much mutton.”

She laughed, the first time he’d ever heard her laugh like that, freely, completely. He found himself charmed by the sound, wishing she would laugh again. Perhaps she hadn’t laughed before because he hadn’t been amusing.

“Mr. Kerr called you a borrowed Scot,” she said, startling him. “Will you prove him right or wrong?”

“A borrowed Scot?” He wasn’t certain how he felt about that.

“Did you know he was a Fairfax?” she asked.

“I just discovered it.”

To his surprise, she looked annoyed.

“There wasn’t exactly time to tell you,” he said. “I was occupied in chasing you all over Scotland.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t accused me of trying to kill you.”

“Forgive me,” he said, kissing her temple, then trailed his lips down her cheek. She deliberately turned her head away, and he smiled.

“I didn’t think.”

She slowly turned her head again.

She looked so desirable, he decided that it might be time to talk sternly to that part of him springing to attention. Instead, he drew her closer, in the grip of something he didn’t quite understand. She melted against him as she always did, responsive, enticing, surrendering so easily and with such delight he was the one vanquished.

Need arrowed through him as he crushed his mouth to hers. She gripped his shirt, pulled him to her, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face against his throat.

“I want you, now,” he said, knowing damn well that
now
was not appropriate.

He kissed the curve of her ear, grabbed the lobe between his teeth, then trailed a heated path down her throat.

He forced himself to release her.

“How do you do that to me?” he asked, pulling away and staring into her face.

She blinked several times, as if trying to surface from a dream.

“I thought it was you,” she said, her lips curving in a smile.

“Perhaps it’s
us,
” he said.

“Is that bad?”

“No,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “It’s not. But I’ll be damned if I’ll take my wife in the middle of a glen.”

She sighed. “Really?” she asked, sounding disappointed.

“I came to tell you something,” he said, stepping back from her. He couldn’t touch her without wanting her. At her look, he smiled. “You’ll hear I’m taking my airship up tomorrow.”

Her expression was carefully expressionless, but he knew to look in her eyes.

“I came to tell you not to worry,” he said, tracing his finger along her jaw.

She looked away, her view of the abandoned crofter’s hut evidently of great interest. Finally, she turned to face him, her regard steady and unwavering.

“How do I do that?” she asked.

“Trust me to know what I’m doing,” he said.

Again, that look.

She nodded, finally, almost a reluctant concession.

He didn’t care how he protected Veronica but protect her he would. He wasn’t a borrowed Scot, damn it. He was as stubborn, determined, and as Scots in his way as Veronica was in hers.

A
few hours later, Veronica decided she was not going to tolerate this behavior from Montgomery anymore. He could not reveal the secret of his past in Virginia one moment and, in the next, retreat into silence. He’d not come to dinner. She hadn’t seen him since this afternoon.

She was going to have to tell him exactly what she wanted. If, in time, she divulged her emotions, then so be it.

He would know she’d fallen in love with him.

Perhaps he wouldn’t ridicule her, but he might get that look in his eyes, the one that said she confused him. But if he thought he was going to push her away again, however, she was having none of it.

She dressed in her new emerald dress, a shade that brought out the green of her eyes and made them sparkle. Since Elspeth had not yet returned, and since she hadn’t wanted to bother Mrs. Brody for a temporary replacement, she left her hair loose, spread over her shoulders.

She took the servants’ stairs to the back of the house since she didn’t want to be seen heading toward the distillery. They should call the building something different going forward. The Airship Building, perhaps.

The distillery was dark when she stood in the doorway, but before she could call out for Montgomery, she found herself grabbed and hauled bodily behind a kettle. She would have screamed if a hand hadn’t suddenly clamped over her mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Montgomery whispered, relaxing his hand.

“Looking for you,” she whispered back. She turned in his arms. “Why are we whispering? And why are we in the dark?”

When he didn’t speak, she slapped her head against his chest. “Talk to me, Montgomery.”

“I’m laying a trap.”

“Why?”

“I know who sabotaged my airship,” he said.

“Were you going to tell me?” she asked.

“No.”

She took a step away from him. “You weren’t?”

“Not until it was over,” he said.

She folded her arms in front of her.

He grabbed her and pulled her close.

“I didn’t want you involved,” he said softly, “because you could get hurt. He’s after me, not you.”

“I don’t want you hurt, either,” she said, standing stiff within his embrace.

He lowered his head until his forehead touched hers. “I’m supposed to protect you, Veronica,” he said.

“You do. Without telling me, though?” She pulled back again. “He?” she asked, just now realizing what he’d said.

“Edmund Kerr.”

“Mr. Kerr?”

“He’s made no secret of the fact he thinks me a poor lord,” Montgomery said. “Had it not been for my grandfather, he’d be the 11
th
Lord Fairfax.”

She thought about his revelation for a moment. “I didn’t like him when I first met him,” she said. “I told myself I must be mistaken.”

“You should have told me.”

She placed her hands on her hips and regarded him. “When, Montgomery? As I remember, you didn’t think much of my Gift.”

Before he could answer, they heard a sound.

A shadow appeared on the wall: a creeping creature with a glowing heart.

“What is that?” she whispered.

Montgomery shook his head, placing one finger against her lips. She nodded her understanding as he moved to stand in front of her. She watched as the figure moved inside the old distillery, carrying a lantern, body curved over it to contain the light, and walking unerringly to the corner.

Montgomery left the shelter of the kettle, advancing on the intruder as the figure lifted the lid of the blue-and-white barrel. She followed, fear chilling her.

The person lifted the lantern as Montgomery approached. In the next instant, Veronica saw that it wasn’t Edmund Kerr standing in front of the barrel of paraffin oil but a woman.

“Millicent?” she asked, startled. “What are you doing here?”

The next moments were a blur. Millicent pushed the barrel over, then threw the lantern down on the stream of paraffin oil. Montgomery whirled, pushing Veronica in front of him. Before she could question him, before she could even speak, he’d grabbed her, thrown her over his shoulder, and was racing for the door.

She didn’t have time to protest.

A whoosh of air preceded the explosion. Billowing orange clouds limned in black rolled out of the doorway, carrying fire into the night sky. The air cracked open, deadened her hearing, and sucked the breath from her lungs.

She and Montgomery fell, thrown onto the graveled path by the force of the explosion. Pieces of roof, rendered almost molten by the blast, and shards of brick fell on them as Montgomery covered her with his body. She heard his groan of pain as something heavy struck his shoulder, and clutched him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and counted each screaming second.

Would they even survive to have a future?

Chapter 31

T
he ground shook, the air heated; Veronica was trembling beneath him. The explosion seemed to go on forever, forever being measured by minutes. The gradual slowing of the rain of pebbles was the first indication it was ending.

He got to his knees, helping Veronica up. They knelt there in the glow of the fire as he studied her carefully. Her dress had been singed on one sleeve. Her cheek was reddened where he’d probably been too rough in throwing her over his shoulder. A bruise, however, was a small price to pay for survival.

He finished his survey, just now realizing she was doing the same to him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, placing her palm against his cheek, her thumb gently brushing against the corner of his mouth.

“Are you? Your face is covered in soot.”

He rotated his right shoulder, feeling the pain and discounting it in the same movement.

“I’m alive,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

He stood with some effort and pulled Veronica up. For a moment, they simply leaned together, each supporting the other. Together, they staggered to the bridge.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice faint.

“She set the paraffin oil on fire. It explodes,” he said.

“What was she doing?”

He slung one arm around her shoulder. “It’s why the burner failed,” he said. “The oil was contaminated. Anything would have done it, but I suspected she was using dirt and grass.”

“So, she was coming back to do it again?”

He nodded.

Suddenly, Ralston was there. Ralston, with his shirt half off his body and his face covered in red-and-black welts. His white hair was standing up in tufts, and for the first time in their acquaintance, Ralston looked angry.

“Are all right, sir?” he asked, voice quavering.

Montgomery nodded. “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s fine, sir. I had him by me watching.”

“We need to find . . .” his words broke off as he turned to Veronica. “What’s her name?”

“Millicent,” she said.

“We need to find Millicent,” he said. “If she’s alive,” he added. Ralston nodded, disappearing into the crowd of people from Doncaster Hall.

During the next several hours, Veronica’s fire brigade performed admirably, arranging themselves in position within moments of the blaze. A line was formed leading to the river, and within two hours, the fire was extinguished. The distillery was reduced to rubble, nothing of the walls or roof remaining. Surprisingly, one of the last of the whiskey kettles still stood, a little battered, but remaining as a stubborn testament to the building’s original purpose.

The location where the paraffin oil barrel had once stood was covered in earth, a preventive measure to ensure any remaining oil wouldn’t be a hazard.

He and Veronica were surveying the damage when Ralston and Tom approached, each holding the arm of a woman writhing between them.

“We found her, sir,” Ralston said.

Millicent struggled, but the two men held her tight. Suddenly, she fell to her knees in front of Montgomery.

“Oh, sir,” she said, raising a tear-streaked and scorched face to him. “It wasn’t you, Your Lordship.”

Ralston frowned. “Fair words won’t make the pot boil, girl,” he said.

Millicent’s voice changed, grew rough as she sent Veronica a sweeping look of contempt. “It was her, sir.”

“Explain yourself,” Montgomery said.

Before the other woman could answer, Veronica stepped forward, grabbed his hand, and gripped it tightly. She didn’t look in his direction, her attention on the maid.

“Did my cousin tell you to do such a thing? Was it Amanda?” Veronica asked, her voice emotionless. “Did she promise you a position in London?”

He squeezed her hand in wordless comfort, but she didn’t look away from Millicent.

“I don’t know your cousin,” Millicent said.

“Then why?”

“I worked for that position,” she said. “I deserved it. Five years I’ve worked here, and I do a better job than anyone.”

Veronica couldn’t find any words to respond to that shocking comment. Millicent and Amanda were separated by country, status, and appearance. Yet they were alike in their single-minded pursuit of what they felt was owed to them.

“What shall we do with her, sir?”

“Send her home,” Montgomery said. “Send her anywhere but here.”

Taking Veronica’s hand, he turned and headed toward the bridge.

“You thought it was Amanda,” he said.

She nodded. “It seemed like something Amanda would do. How very strange for two people to dislike me so much.”

“I don’t think Amanda likes anyone unless that person can serve her needs,” he said. “As for Millicent, she’s a twisted soul.”

At the top of the bridge, Veronica turned and surveyed the damage.

“Will you rebuild the distillery?”

“We’ll build a place for airships, instead.”

She leaned on the edge of the bridge, gazing down at the water. Dawn was coloring the river orange and pink, shades strangely in keeping with the memory of a night filled with fire.

“How did she know fouling the paraffin oil would make the burner go out?”

“Who tends the lamps?” he asked. “Who filters the oil?”

“Millicent,” she said. “Of course.” A moment later, she asked another question. “She did it because she thought I’d be with you, didn’t she?”

“You were on the first flight. Everyone at Doncaster Hall saw us, which probably gave her the idea.”

“I wasn’t on the second flight,” she said. “Nor did she know I’d be on the one you let people know was planned. She’d have killed you, Montgomery.”

She walked into his arms, clung to him.

“It’s strange to make someone that angry at me,” she said.

His silence earned him a quick look.

“I was never
that
angry,” she said.

He smiled, and wordlessly they descended the other side of the bridge, taking the path back to Doncaster Hall, a journey interrupted each time someone wanted to speak with them.

Veronica was grateful to see no one seemed to blame her still for Montgomery’s accident. Word of Millicent’s confession had probably already circulated through the staff. Also, Montgomery was still holding her hand, and despite how many times they were stopped, refused to relinquish it.

“Why didn’t you choose her?” he asked, when they had a moment alone.

“Millicent? I had a feeling about her,” Veronica said.

“Your Gift?”

She glanced at him, but he only smiled.

“I’m beginning to think you can see into the hearts of others,” he said. “God knows you have the ability to see into mine.”

Her smile was a beautiful thing, alluring and tempting. He had no choice but to kiss her in full view of everyone.

Someone cheered, and he grinned when he pulled back.

Veronica laughed, tucked her hand in his, and together they continued toward the house.

Doncaster Hall commanded the knoll like a king upon his throne. Around it sat an emerald cloak of trees. The scepter of river ran close, the rays of a rising sun turning the surface gold.

The morning air was filled with scent, but unlike Virginia’s heady magnolia and jasmine, this was a mix of burning wood and scorched earth. Overlying it was a breeze carrying the flavor of winter beneath the warmth.

As they approached the house, Montgomery realized the difference between Gleneagle and Doncaster Hall lay not solely in their locale. Gleneagle had offered an uncomplicated welcome to anyone who approached it. Doncaster Hall seemed to reserve judgment upon its occupants. Once measured and approved, however, a man never wanted to leave.

This was more than a home or a structure. Doncaster Hall was a heritage, a history, proof that the Fairfax family had existed.

That was what his grandfather had wanted to replicate.

People were depending on him at Doncaster Hall just as they had at Gleneagle. Decisions had to be made, decisions he’d pushed away, chosen not to address. He’d effectively escaped into his airships, into the minutiae of designing a baffle rather than thinking about the people who needed him.

How many were employed in various Fairfax industries? He was a little ashamed to realize he didn’t know.

“I think, perhaps, that it’s time I became the 11
th
Lord Fairfax of Doncaster in truth.”

“Why not?” she asked. “You’re no longer a borrowed Scot, Montgomery.”

Surprised, he turned his head to look at her.

She nodded. “You’re a real Scot,” she said, picking up her skirts with both hands and walking several paces in front of him. She turned to face him, her skirts swinging, a smile lighting her face.

“How does one become a real Scot?”

She smiled, an enchanting expression that made him want to kiss her again.

“You’re brave,” she said. “You’ve proven that. Not only from being a soldier in your war but being a pilot in your airship.”

She regarded him steadily, and he met her gaze head-on. “You’re morally brave as well as physically brave.”

“I doubt I’m as virtuous as all that,” he said.

She ignored him, continuing. “You take responsibility. A Scot does that.”

“Does he?”

Her smile was back, as was the sparkle in her eyes. “A Scot also has a certain knowledge of his own value.”

“Arrogance, you mean.”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. A Scot simply accepts that he’s a better man than most.” Her glance teased him to disagree.

“You’ve the same feeling for Doncaster Hall as you did Gleneagle,” she said, looking toward the house. “Perhaps even more so. You have everything your grandfather wished and dreamed about.”

“Does that include a wife who understands me?”

She renewed him, a stunning admission. She didn’t just possess a Gift. She
was
a gift.

“Do I?”

Before he could answer, Edmund stepped on the path.

“Edmund,” he said, nodding at his solicitor. “I’ve misjudged you.”

“In what way, Your Lordship?”

Montgomery smiled, an expression that chilled Veronica. Mr. Kerr should be careful of his next words. Despite his smile, Montgomery wasn’t feeling the least bit affable at the moment.

“I thought you behind the effort to sabotage my airship.”

To his credit, Edmund appeared genuinely shocked.

“I would do no such thing, Your Lordship.”

“I realize that, now,” Montgomery said, taking a step forward at the same time he drew back his arm, his fist slamming into the other man’s jaw.

Montgomery watched as Edmund fell like a stone to the path. He stood over the man, shaking his hand as Veronica stared in shock.

“If you knew he was innocent, why did you hit him?”

“He’s innocent of that deed, but you’re not entirely innocent, are you, Edmund?”

He bent, hauled the man up by his collar, and held on until the solicitor blinked a few times.

“You were the one who told me about the Society of the Mercaii. You were the one who urged me to attend.”

Edmund sputtered but said nothing coherent.

“You’re a member, aren’t you? I should have known the night of the séance.”

She took a few steps away from Mr. Kerr.

“Was he there?” she asked. “That night, was he there?”

She stared at Edmund. She’d never known the identity of any of the members of the Society. Yet she’d sat in this man’s company, had held his hand during the séance, and all this time, he’d been there. He’d seen her naked. Perhaps the feeling she’d had about the solicitor was based, not on her Gift, but because he’d made her uncomfortable in other ways.

Montgomery let go of Kerr’s collar, and he fell back to the ground, remaining there and looking up at Montgomery warily.

“Are you going to hit him again?” she asked.

Montgomery turned to look at her. “Do you want me to?”

She’d never had such a champion. What a strange time to want to smile.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want you to hit him again.”

“I got rid of Millicent. It’s your choice what to do with him.”

“Must you continue to employ him?”

“No,” Montgomery said, stretching his hand to her. “Consider him no longer employed at Doncaster Hall.”

He glanced down at Edmund. “I’ll not be summoning you again,” he said. “We’ll just have to find a way to get along without you.” He turned to Ralston. “If you would do away with that, please,” he said, pointing in the solicitor’s direction.

Ralston nodded as he and another man lifted Edmund to his feet.

Montgomery grinned at her, the expression changing his face to someone younger, less marred by memory, less filled with grief.

Her heart turned over in her chest.

She went to him and placed her hand on his cheek.

“I love you, Montgomery Fairfax,” she said softly, giving him the truth.

He pulled her into his arms.

“Thank God for it,” he said, pressing his cheek against her temple. “Thank God for that.”

As they stood there, dawn approached shyly, banishing shadows, spreading over the landscape and setting it aglow.

For weeks, he’d questioned his decision to come to Scotland. As the first tentative rays of a renewed day stretched toward Doncaster Hall, Montgomery knew why his path had led him here. Not only to understand his past but to accept his future.

This moment, this instant, was the most perfect homecoming he’d ever had.

He could almost see the ghosts of his past, James and Alisdair on either side of Caroline, hands linked, arms swinging, walking into dawn’s horizon. Their laughter caught at his heart, reminding him of days gone by and hinting at days to come.

“What about you, Montgomery Fairfax?”

He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand her.

She pulled back, watching him, feeling her heartbeat escalate as he smiled at her. From the beginning, passion had linked them, leading to something stronger, more complete.

“I didn’t want a wife,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” she said flatly, stepping back.

He pulled her into his arms again.

“Then Fate or Providence gave me you,” he said.

Loneliness had once lived in his eyes, as well as pain. Now, however, another emotion was there, something that had her throat closing and tears washing to the surface.