A Highland Folly (18 page)

“Be off with you,” she retorted, laughing.

More laughter was heard around the field as the competition got under way. The contest was simple. Each participant was allowed four shots at a canvas-covered stack of hay at the far end of the meadow. Someone had drawn a dark circle in the very center. Applause announced the good shots, and gibes were shouted when the arrows went wide.

Anice gave up trying to keep score, because she was too busy watching the faces around her. Both the roadmen and the villagers were relaxing and laughing and shouting.

Parlan strode to the middle of the field and took the bow from the English roadman who had missed the target on all four of his shots. Anice scowled when her cousin gave the man an insolent bow before he reached into the quiver waiting there and pulled out four arrows. He was trying to do damage to the goodwill being created here. Once he took his turn at the target, she intended to chide him. She and Lucais had worked hard to make this day come about, for she knew he had ordered his men to attend this while she prodded the villagers to meet the challenge.

When the first three arrows he fired flew in every direction but toward the target, she ran out to grab his arm before he could fire another and hit someone. The thick smell of whisky struck her like a fist. He should know better than to try to use a bow when he had been giving a bottle a black eye.

He grumbled but handed the bow over to another of the Englishmen, when Anice said, “If you cannot aim an arrow, you could hit your sister or mother.”

“I would not have hit them,” Parlan replied, his voice slurred as they went back to stand on the side of the field.

“Are you so certain?”

He eyed her up and down. “If I had been aiming at anyone, it would not have been someone from Ardkinloch or Killiebige.”

She started to reply, but a cheer from the crowd silenced her. 'Twas just as well, because anything she said would infuriate Parlan further, and she feared that once begun, she would not be able to curb her tongue from asking all the questions burning on it. Accusing Parlan of being involved in the pranks against Lucais's camp would create even more trouble.

Suddenly Parlan spun on his heel and walked back to the middle of the field. He took the bow from the man who had been shooting. Coming back to Anice, he thrust it toward her. “Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“There are eight arrows left. Four for us and four for them.”

Anice wanted to release the sigh filling her throat. Her hopes that this competition would soothe tempers might have been overly optimistic.

“As the head of our family,” Parlan continued, “
you
should make our final attempts at hitting the target.”

She stared up at him. Had she been wrong about how easily he accepted her arriving here and usurping what he might have thought would be his? He refused to meet her eyes, so she could not guess if she was right or mistaking his words.

Taking the bow, she said, “All right.”

“Try not to shame us more.”

“More?” Like him, she spoke in barely more than a whisper.

“If you are going to drape yourself over that road engineer, you should not do it on the brae for all the glen to see.” He walked away.

Her hands tightened on the bow. How dare he dress her down for kissing Lucais! She would speak with Parlan after this competition. Now she had to make sure that the goodwill created by this contest was not lost because of her cousin's envy.

Going to the middle of the field, Anice pulled half of the arrows out of the quiver. She fired them in quick succession. All of them struck the target, one in the dark circle. Victorious shouts came from the villagers, and the children jumped up and down. Some of them started to run out on the meadow, but she held up her hand.

“There is one more who needs to have a chance at hitting the target,” she called.

The shouts became jesting jeers as she walked across the field to where Lucais stood.

“Where did you learn to do that so well?” he asked.

“I learned from a huntsman in Brazil.” She smiled. “He could hit a bird out of a tree in the midst of the jungle.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “I collect you have been everywhere in the world.”

“Not yet.” She paused as a cheer rose from the crowd as one of the children pulled the other arrows off the target, leaving only hers near the very center.

Lucais admired her slender profile when she turned to watch the young lad run back into the crowd. Even though he should be accustomed to being surprised by Anice, he did not want to lose this delight with each amazing thing that popped out of her mouth.

When she faced him again, she said, “Now it is your turn to make this enjoyable.”

“If you think I can manage to beat you in the style of the legendary Robin Hood, who won his fair maid's hand, I fear you will be disappointed.”

Her smile was triumphant. “I can assure you I did not think that.”

Lucais arched his brows as he took the bow. Looking at the target on the far side of the meadow, he walked out to where a quiver held only four more arrows. He drew out one and set it on the string. He glanced back at Anice, who was flanked by her twin cousins.

Parlan had his arms folded in front of him, a broad smile on his face. On Anice's other side, Neilli wore an identical expression. Only a leatherhead would fail to suspect they had something planned. He wished he had some hint of what.

Taking aim on the target, Lucais drew back the arrow. It flew directly to the left of the one Anice had put in the circle. Even as it was still shuddering from the impact, he drew another and aimed it at the right side of Anice's arrow. He smiled as it hit exactly where he wanted. A third arrow landed just over her arrow. The meadow became so silent, he could hear the river's whisper beneath the distant call of the birds. Reaching for a fourth arrow, he aimed it beneath Anice's. It struck so close that her arrow trembled.

Cheers erupted from both sides of the field. Unstringing the bow, he set it on the ground as several of the village's lads ran to the target to check his arrows. He walked back to where Anice and the other Kinlochs stood. She was the only one smiling now.

“Unbelievable,” she cried. “Where did
you
learn to shoot like that?”

“The English are not the only ones skilled with a bow. We Scots have learned to use one as well.” He did not let his smile waver as her cousins left. Let them pout while he enjoyed Anice's smiles.

She laughed. “I thought you were not going to pretend to be Robin Hood.”

“Are you suggesting that I should make a habit of taking from the rich to give to the poor?” He shook his head. “I fear taking up a life as a knight of the pad would ill suit me. I prefer to build roads, not use them to stop carriages and rob those within.”

He did not hear what she replied, because he was surrounded by people who wanted to congratulate him on his skill as an archer. That both his men and the villagers came to speak to him might be a sign that Anice had been right to have this competition.

He wished he could believe that, but he did not. He could not forget the expressions on Anice's cousins' faces. There was more trouble coming.

Twelve

Anice walked into the large room where the gathering soon would be under way. An uneasiness followed her, and she could not escape it. She should be pleased with how well the day had gone. The villagers had been amazed by Lucais's ability with the bow and arrow. His men had been proud. Parlan had been furious and did not hide it, grumbling to everyone who would listen as well as those who did not. She had noted Sir Busby's frown, although she had had no opportunity to find out what was bothering her neighbor.

“Lucais!” she gasped. She had not thought she would find him here. Unlike her, he had changed from the casual clothes he had been wearing for the competition. His evening coat, which he wore over a pale gold waistcoat, was as ebony as his hair. His white breeches matched his shirt and elegantly tied cravat.

With a chuckle he turned so she could view him from every angle. “I hope I can meet your expectations.”

“Where did you get these clothes?”

“I received two boxes of replacement supplies. Ridiculous though it may be, one contained this evening attire.” He gave her a wry grin. “I would have preferred to have a copy of the plans for the bridge.”

“Architectural plans are not quite the proper clothing for a gathering like tonight's.”

He laughed as he walked toward her. “You may need that sense of humor this evening, Anice.”

“Parlan is very unhappy,” she replied, not pretending to misunderstand. “When Parlan is unhappy, Neilli is as well.”

“Their happiness or lack of it does not worry me as much as why they were smiling so broadly this afternoon.”

“Do you think they have something planned for tonight?”

“Tonight or some other time.” He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers as she walked around the room doing a final check that everything was set for Ardkinloch's guests.

Anice was pleased to find everything met her expectations. Although she had seldom lived in one place for very long, she had been raised to know what was needed to make guests welcome. The labyrinth of local customs had been unique for each area she visited, but she had learned how to maneuver through the often complicated conditions.

“You look serene for a hostess about to greet more than a hundred guests,” Lucais said, his thumb stroking her palm.

“Whatever may go wrong, it is too late to halt it now.”

“Are you talking of the party or of what your cousins have planned?”

Pausing, she faced him. “If I knew what they had in mind, I can assure you that I would put a stop to it if necessary.”

“If necessary?” He held up his hands before she could retort. “Forgive me, Anice. I should not be interrogating you when you are not the source of my anxiety about this evening.” He slipped a hand around her waist and tugged her up against his chest. His rakish smile returned. “You unsettle me in other ways.”

When his mouth moved along her neck, setting her afire with the longing that refused to be ignored, she clutched his shoulders. Her fingers combed through his hair as he laved her jaw. Quivering, she steered his mouth to hers. Nothing, anywhere in the world, had ever been like this. As his arms tightened around her, holding her so close that she was certain she could feel his pounding heart, she put all of her yearning into the kiss.

His hands framed her face, his fingers tangling in her hair as she gazed up into his still-water eyes. Only the color matched the shade of a quiet pond, for the emotions within his eyes were as turbulent as a storm. Fierce, dangerous, intriguing.

Footfalls coming into the room halted Anice from kissing him again. She swallowed her sigh of regret as she stepped back and smiled at the maid who was bringing another tray of glasses to put on the table near the door. When a second maid entered, Anice knew the brief moment of privacy was over. Even in a house as large as Ardkinloch, it seemed that finding somewhere to be alone with Lucais was impossible.

The maids glanced at them with candid curiosity.

Anice looked at Lucais and saw his lopsided smile. She almost laughed aloud at his expression. To keep her laughter from bubbling forth, she stared up at the unpainted ceiling and said, “I suspect this room is no match for the fancy ballrooms in London.”

“You have never been to London?”

“No.”

“That is amazing.”

She shook her head. “Not really. My mother had no yearning to return to England. I suspect she feared that if she came back to England, she would be required to return here to Ardkinloch.”

“But you came back.”

“I had nowhere else to go.”

“Nowhere else in the whole world?” His grin straightened into a frown. “You said you have not seen all the world, Anice.”

“I had not seen Scotland, and there was nowhere else where I had family.”

“So you shouldered the responsibilities of this eccentric family in order to be part of it?” His brows rose as he smiled coolly. “A choice I am sure you have regretted more than once.”

“I find them vexing, but I am glad to have my family. I hated being alone.”

“You had Pippy and Bonito.”

She reached to wipe away the sudden tears that were filling her eyes, but she wanted to keep him from noticing them. “I do not know how you were raised, Lucais, but I have always wished to have a family. No matter how troublesome they are, they are my family.” She turned away. “I must get ready for our guests. If you will excuse me, Lucais.”

“Anice—”

“I have no time to talk now. Excuse me.” She hurried out of the room before he could say something that would make the situation even more painful. She had thought he understood how desperately she had wanted this sense of family, this sense of place, this sense of belonging. She had dreamed of staying forever in one house, surrounded by people who were not strangers. Although her life of traveling had been thrilling and endlessly changing, she had never had the comfort of belonging that she had found here. She might be still very much an outsider, unfamiliar with the ways of this close-knit, often bizarre family, but she was part of it, because Kinloch blood ran in her veins.

She had thought Lucais would understand, but he did not. Questions plagued her as she rushed up the stairs to her rooms. Why did that cold tone come into his voice anytime he spoke of family? Mayhap he hated his. No, she could not believe that, for he was not a hateful man. He had made her heart believe in love.

Now she was not so sure … of him, of herself, of the two of them.

Of anything.

Anice had her emotions better under control by the time she returned to the large parlor where the gathering was being held. She scanned the room that was already crowded with guests, both from Killiebige and from the road crew. Seeing some of the villagers talking with a few Englishmen, she smiled stiffly. This should be making her deliriously happy. Yet, she could manage no more than this weak smile.