A Highland Folly (16 page)

She had no chance to answer as he captured her lips again. She savored his eager kiss, knowing how precious this interlude was and how long it might be before she could be in his arms again.

The call of her name by her aunt drew her out of Lucais's arms. His fingers brushed against her cheek, and she gave him another smile before she hurried out of the room to see what was disturbing Aunt Coira now. She knew what it must be, for as long as the roadmen were within Ardkinloch's walls, her family would be upset.

She looked back at Lucais, who winked at her. Her breath caught. Her family would not be the only ones unsettled, for her heart thudded against her breast when her gaze met Lucais's.

Finding something to keep the villagers and the roadmen and the residents of Ardkinloch so busy they did not have time to think of all the anger in the glen would be the best for everyone … including her.

Anice glanced at the glass by the door in the front hall of Chester Hills. When she had come here after telling Mr. McNab a few bouncers so he would not suspect her true reason for taking his ferry across the Abhainn an Uruisg, she had expected to leave her note for the marquess with a footman and hurry back to work in the sheepfold. She tugged at her work dress, knowing she would have worn something different if she had suspected that the marquess would be at home.

“Lord Chesterburgh will see you now, my lady,” a footman in his green livery said, bowing his head.

“Thank you.” She thought it was the man who had spoken up at the fire, but she could not be certain. She did not want to do anything to suggest she was more witless than she already appeared by calling here in less than her best. If the marquess was offended, it might perpetuate this silly feud that no one in Ardkinloch could honestly explain. Was she really supposed to believe that all this anger was truly about choosing different sides in a war that had happened almost two hundred years ago? There must have been something more than that. Scotland had a long history of allies becoming enemies and enemies becoming best friends, so there must be something more to the division. It seemed to her that if nobody understood what had truly started this dissension, then it was time to put it to rest.

In spite of her resolve to appear serene and polished when she met the marquess, Anice gasped as she stepped past the footman and entered an elegant room. The room was lit with sunlight. Furniture was gracefully arranged on a patterned carpet of the deepest blue. A huge portrait of a young woman and a child was set above the hearth. She noticed all of that in the moment before she saw a bronze sculpture on a table in front of the middle window of a tall bay.

“Welcome to Chester Hills, Lady Kinloch,” came a deep voice from the other side of the room.

Anice had to pull her gaze from the elephants, successively smaller ones stacked atop a large one. She offered her hand to the man walking toward her. Only hints of his one-time dark hair remained amid the gray. A set of glasses on the tip of his nose twinkled as brightly as his pale blue eyes.

“I hope you will excuse my uninvited call, my lord,” she said quietly.

He took her hand and bowed over it with a grace that brought Lucais to mind. She was glad he could not hear her thoughts, as she found it odd that she should compare a road engineer and a marquess. “I must own that it is unforeseen for a Kinloch to pay a call here.”

“In my opinion, it is long overdue.”

“Plainspoken, I see.”

“I see no reason not to be.” Anice smiled when his eyes widened, and she hurried to add, “My intention is not to send you up to the boughs, my lord. I came here to express my thanks for the help your retainers gave the villagers and people from Ardkinloch in putting out the fire in the roadmen's camp.”

Lord Chesterburgh motioned toward a chair. “Please sit, my lady.”

“Thank you, but I do not wish to impose when I called uninvited.”

“Nonsense! I would not have asked you to join me here if I saw you as a bother.” He laughed.

Anice went toward the chair, but her steps slowed as she passed the elephants.

Slowed too much, she realized when Lord Chesterburgh asked, “My lady, does that statue intrigue you?”

“I saw something familiar when I was in India as a child. I never thought to see its like in Scotland.”

He smiled. “It should not be a surprise that you saw something similar in the East, for that sculpture is from India. I traveled there as a young man, and I found it a fascinating place. Mayhap you would call again and speak with me of your impressions of that country.”

“I would be honored, my lord, although you should know I was not much more than four or five years old when we left India.” Sitting on the chair, she folded her hands on her lap and grimaced when she saw the patched seam on her skirt. She looked like a petitioner coming to call on the marquess. “And I wish you to know how grateful I am that your men came to fight the fire that could have damaged more than the road camp.”

“Which was completely destroyed, as I understand.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “It is a true shame. Mr. MacFarlane has had to send to London for new supplies and plans for the project.”

“Mr. MacFarlane?” A quizzical smile stole years from his full face.

“The chief engineer of the project is Lucais MacFarlane.”

“Ah, now I understand.” He sat across from her and leaned back to smile. “Are you in favor of this road project, Lady Kinloch?”

“I do not share the opinions of those who believe it will mean the end of this glen.” Her hands in her lap clenched. She had wanted to ask
his
opinion, not voice hers.

“But you are not sure of the results?”

“Who could be?”

He pyramided his fingers in front of his face. “You astonish me, if I may say so. I have never heard of a Kinloch being so openminded.”

“If you knew my grandmother—”

“I never met the late lady.”

“You never met her?” Anice was sure her eyes were wide enough to pop from her face.

“Never. You are the first of the Kinloch family to call here in almost two hundred years. Save for the descriptions others gave to me, I would not have recognized the late lady if we had chanced to meet.”

She faltered, then said, “I am not sure what to say.”

“It is astounding that something so silly could separate two families that once were distant cousins and now are simply distant.”

“I agree. That war was over long ago.”

“War?” He frowned. “Are the Kinlochs still filling everyone's heads with that out-and-outer?”

“It's a lie that the dispute began when the families took opposite sides in the Civil War?”

“Yes.”

Again she hesitated. She had to own that she had not found it easy to swallow the tale Parlan had told her of what had begun this quarrel. Yet she had no reason to trust this man.

Lord Chesterburgh's eyes grew sad. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. Then he met hers steadily. “My lady, I see how you are torn. Why should you heed me over the counsel of your family, which you have heard since you were born?”

“To own the truth, I had not heard of any of this until less than a fortnight ago, when my family discovered that I wanted to ask all my neighbors, including you, my lord, their opinions of the bridge project. I returned to Ardkinloch only a few months ago, for I spent the previous years with my mother, traveling around the world.”

“Including India.” He smiled, but his eyes remained sorrowful. “I would suggest, my lady, that you seek among your late grandmother's possessions and see if you can find an old letter there.”

“From you?”

He shook his head, his white hair fluttering into his eyes. Pushing it back, he said, “It was written before I was born and represents the last time any of my family had communication with anyone from your family. Read it, and, if you wish, return here and give me your thoughts on it.”

Anice wondered why he was making this a puzzle but only nodded. She could not be so rude as to demand why. Coming to her feet, she held out her hand again as Lord Chesterburgh stood. “Thank you for receiving me, my lord.”

“The gates of Chester Hills are always open to those who come in good faith.”

Her brow ruffled, for she was unsure what he meant. Mayhap she would understand all of this when she found that old letter. If it was still about.

“Lady Kinloch?” he called as she turned to go.

“Yes?” She faced him and saw he was smiling.

“If you want my opinion of the road and the bridge, you should know that I think it is a long-overdue improvement that will bring only good things to all of those who live along this section of the Abhainn an Uruisg.”

Before she could answer, a voice said from the doorway, “I am pleased to hear that.”

Anice fought her feet, which wanted to whirl her around. Instead, she turned slowly to see Lucais standing there. The borrowed shirt he had accepted from the trunks in the attics of Ardkinloch was taut across his shoulders, but his boots had regained their bright polish.

Lord Chesterburgh replied, “I would expect
you
would be. It seems you and Lady Kinloch have already been introduced.”

“Yes, we have met,” Lucais said, glancing at her. She could not guess what he was trying to tell her with his intense gaze. A strain filled his voice, and she wondered why he acted as if he did not want to be there. He was as wary as he had been when they first met on the hill overlooking Ardkinloch. “She has been gracious enough to invite my men and me to be her guests at Ardkinloch until our replacement supplies arrive.”

“You are staying within Ardkinloch's walls?” Lord Chesterburgh frowned. “That I had not heard.”

“If I will not embarrass her by being honest, I would say that Lady Kinloch has saved this project from utter failure.”

Anice's face became ablaze as both men looked at her. Lucais's face was rigid, and the marquess's eyes were pale slits. “It was the least I could do,” she said.

“No, the least you could have done was nothing.” Lucais looked back at Lord Chesterburgh. “I thought you might be interested in some facts about the project.”

“I would indeed,” the marquess answered. “Would you care to join us, Lady Kinloch, and be enlightened?”

“Thank you, my lord, but Lucais”—she corrected herself when Lord Chesterburgh's eyes narrowed again—“I mean Mr. MacFarlane has been kind enough to share the information with me already.” She took a step toward the door. “If you will excuse me, I will try to catch Mr. McNab before he returns to the other side of the river.”

She did not give either Lucais or Lord Chesterburgh a chance to respond as she rushed out of the room and down the stairs. The footman barely had a chance to open the door before she reached it and hurried through to the front steps. As she reached the gate, she took a deep breath.

Something had not been as it should have been in Chester Hills. Whatever it had been was intensified when Lucais arrived, although she could not imagine why. Mayhap if she found the letter the marquess had mentioned, she would understand.

Mayhap.

Eleven

As footfalls passed his door, Lucais looked up from the desk that had been moved into his room at Ardkinloch. He still, after almost a week as Anice's guest, found it difficult to believe he was staying in this house—but not as a welcome guest by any stretch of the imagination. The staff avoided him and his men, and, except for Anice, no one spoke to them.

He had not seen Anice for the past two days. When he had asked about her, he had been told that she was busy overseeing her grandmother's business. That made as little sense as her paying a call on his father at Chester Hills.

His hand slapped the desk as he stood. None of his men knew of his connection to anyone in the Highlands, and that had been the way he wanted to keep it. During a quick call at Chester Hills upon his arrival, he had left orders that no one was to acknowledge him as Lord Chesterton, the title that should have been his older brother's burden. Then Birk had died, and the title had been dumped on him.

He had not suspected that his father would be here at this time of year, because Lord Chesterburgh preferred to spend most of the year visiting friends closer to London and return here only in the fall to enjoy hunting the red deer higher along the braes. His father would keep his counsel about that unwanted title, but only because the marquess knew that this would be Lucais's last project before assuming the duties of heir to Chester Hills, and the project's success would reflect on the whole family.

Once he had ascertained that his father had not blurted out the whole of the situation to Anice, Lucais had returned his thoughts to his work. The work was moving slowly on the bridge, because he could depend only on what he recalled of the plans.

A knock came at the door. “Come in,” he called.

“Mr. MacFarlane, a couple of questions.” Potter stuck his head past the open door.

Lucais forced a smile and tried not to sigh. Not for the first time he asked himself why he had agreed to give Potter another chance. The man had almost doomed the last project he had worked on by making some silly errors. Lucais's partner had owed a favor to Potter's family and was reluctant to dismiss him, so Lucais had decided to observe Potter's skills for himself on this project. That had been a grave error, because Potter seemed incapable of the simplest logic in making decisions. That he had not created a disaster before this was the most remarkable thing of all.

In quick order, Lucais answered Potter's questions. He waited for Potter to take his leave, but his assistant closed the door.

“I need to speak to you about something that should be for your ears only, Mr. MacFarlane,” he said, staring at the floor.

“Spill what you have to say.” Lucais tried to curb his impatience with the man. He should be grateful that Potter gave him something to consider other than his thoughts of Anice and her call on his father. That had been the most unbelievable part of this whole sojourn into the Highlands. He had known that Anice was not like her narrow-thinking family, but Lucais had been shocked to discover that
he
was. He never had guessed that she would put the warnings aside to call on anyone at Chester Hills, not just once, but a second time, even though she had known she might be rebuffed.