Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (18 page)

Millicent’s laughter danced around
them and lifted his spirit. Lyon didn’t know if it was the effect of the wine
or her. This was the first time in months, he realized, that he had spent a
couple of hours thinking about someone else, rather than drowning in his own
misery. He glanced down at her hand still on his.

“I’ll be content with whatever time
you can give me, Lyon.”

Her chair slid closer to his. The
touch of her knee against his leg was warm. She leaned forward and picked up
the napkin that had dropped off his lap to the floor. He admired the soft
curves of her breast gently spilling over the neckline of the dress. She folded
the cloth and put it back on his lap, beneath his right hand. The image of her
pressed against his chest this afternoon rushed back to his mind. His gaze
moved up to her lips.

“I hope this will not be too much
asking for one night,” she continued, obviously unaware of the direction of his
thoughts. “Mr. Gibbs has been a great help to me, helping me with so many of
the daily business matters. Would you object if I were to ask him to take over
some of the steward’s responsibilities? I know he wouldn’t even consider the
job unless he had your blessing.”

She continued to talk, but Lyon wasn’t listening. With a shock, he realized that he was growing hard for the second
time in one day. For over six months he had considered himself less than a man.
No feelings, no desire, no thoughts of ever lying with a woman again. But after all this time, when he’d felt Millicent’s body pressed against his this afternoon, as
he’d ravished her mouth with his, he’d felt the stirring of desire. He had cast
the feeling aside as his imagination. But to have it happen again now! He’d
just been watching her talk, and the sensations had returned. 

Instead of excitement,
embarrassment drenched him in a cold sweat. The fact that his body responded
physically to hers held out no relief to him. He was still not whole. He could
not forget how little remained of him in body and soul. He was relieved that
she was unaware of these changes.

“I am ready to be taken upstairs.”

His sharp tone caused Millicent to
look at him with alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“I am tired. Ready to retire. I
wish to be carried upstairs. Now.”

“I shouldn’t have brought up all
that about Mr. Gibbs. I know how much you rely on him, and I have no intention
of reducing the care…”

“I don’t give a damn what you ask
him to do. I’d be content not to see his ugly face ever again.” Irritated, he
shoved away the plate before him on the table. The glass next to it fell
against the plate and the stem snapped. Before she could stop it, a piece
tumbled off the table and onto Lyon’s lap. She was at his side in a moment. 

“Oh my Lord! That cut you. I am so
sorry. You’re bleeding.”

Lyon was already staring at the
beads of blood forming on his right hand. It was nothing, but he continued to
stare.

His muscles had reacted of their
own accord. Without consciously trying to move them, his hand and fingers had
moved. But damn him if he could move them again now. 

“Call John and Will and have me taken
up,” he growled. “If you ever want me to leave that room again, you will have
it done
now
.” 

****

Millicent hovered in the background
while the two valets worked diligently by the light of a single candle,
readying their master for bed. Everything about tonight had been special until
something had happened. She couldn’t understand what had caused the sudden
change in Lyon’s mood, and her uneasiness was undiminished as she considered
the tense wall that had arisen between them. She knew it didn’t have anything
to do with her question about Gibbs becoming the next steward. Lyon hadn’t even seemed to be listening to what she had been saying then.

John bowed his way out of the room
first, and Will followed shortly after, closing the door behind him. This had
become the nightly routine. The attendants would leave, and Millicent would
spend the night dozing in a chair or pacing the room or staring out the window.
She did not want Lyon left alone as yet. Then, as dawn was breaking, Gibbs
generally came in to take her place. 

“I do not want you to stay.”

Millicent cringed at the roughness
of his tone. Pushing her feelings aside, she reminded herself that despite the
pleasant hours they had spent together tonight, he was still recovering from
his illness. And she had already learned to expect the sharp alterations in his
moods.

“Well, I am not going anywhere.”

“Do as you bloody please.” He
closed his eyes, shutting her out.

Millicent realized she was more
disturbed by his indifference than his rejection. Gathering her resolve, she
moved close to him. The covers were tucked around him—the left arm lay on top,
the right one beneath the blanket. She thought of the cut on his hand, but
decided she would not disturb him to check it.

She stared at the dark beard and
the long lashes that lay against his handsome cheeks. The memory of their kiss
this afternoon came back into her mind and an unexpected warmth spread through
her body. She stared at his hard lips and, without thinking, smoothed the
bedclothes. As she did, Millicent wondered if he would ever kiss her
again.      

Bothered by her thoughts, she drew
back and looked about the shadowy room. During the last few nights he had often
been sleepless, but other than carrying an argument when he started one or responding
to his gibes, she really had not been needed. 

She was tired and he didn’t want
her here, but Millicent couldn’t think of anyplace at Melbury Hall that she
preferred to be than here in this room. She sank into her chair by the foot of
his bed and gazed at his pale face, wondering what he had been like before.

*****

Everyone in the servants’ hall was
rushing about, obviously concerned about Moses, who was standing in the back
door, wringing his hands. A black serving maid hurried up the steps to an upper
floor after Mrs. Page whispered an order to her. Holding the large man’s arm,
the housekeeper led him to a bench by the fire. There, one of the cooks handed
her a steaming cup of drink, which she pressed into his huge hands as she
continued to talk to him in a low, reassuring voice.

Gibbs had entered in the midst of
all this, but instead of meddling he stood back and watched the scene unfold
before him. Moses was saying something in a broken voice, and it looked to
Gibbs as if there were tears standing in the old man’s eyes. Someone appeared
with a blanket that Mrs. Page threw around his shoulders. All the time speaking
soothingly to him, she ran a comforting hand over his back.

The household at Melbury Hall was
roughly half black, half white, but what had struck Gibbs most impressively
since arriving here was the familial feeling that held sway. Clearly Lady
Aytoun’s desire to treat all fairly, regardless of skin color, was a manner
embraced by the people she employed.

The same servant who had been sent
up the stairs returned, followed by the old woman Ohenewaa. Words passed
between Moses and the woman. Almost immediately Moses stood up, shed the
blanket, and the two of them went out through the back door.

Gibbs’s gaze returned to the
housekeeper. As she bustled about, he could not help but admire the efficiency
with which she settled everything back to normal in just a few moments. He had
to admit, though, that Mrs. Page’s competence was not the only thing he had
been finding fascinating lately. Inviting from a safe distance, but somewhat
reserved whenever he came near, Mary Page had been drawing him in bit by bit.
What was most interesting, though, was the fact that Gibbs wasn’t even minding
the feel of the hook she had in him. 

“What was troubling Moses?” Gibbs
managed to ask, once he was within arm’s reach of her.

Mary’s green gaze lifted, and she
smiled tenderly. “One of the stable dogs that he has become fond of caught a
leg in a poacher’s snare tonight. Some of the grooms think the poor animal
should be put down, but Moses wanted Ohenewaa to look at the injured dog
first.”

“So is this what Ohenewaa means to
them? Is she a healer of some sort?”

Mary nodded. “Aye, but she is also
seen as an elder and wise woman. Amina told me that Ohenewaa forms a sort of
bridge for them to a part of their past.”

“Ye mean Africa?”

“I believe so, Mr. Gibbs.”

The Highlander followed Mrs. Page
as she made her way out of the hall.

“Since the first day, I have not
seen much of this Moses. But from all I can tell, the man appears to be well
looked after.”

“He deserves it.” The same look of
tenderness shone in her face. “Despite his scarred body and a weak mind, Moses
is the gentlest person I have yet to meet in my life. I’ve heard stories of all
that he regularly endured during the squire’s time. The man cannot be blamed if
he’s a little slow when it comes to any complicated thinking. I think I would
have lost my mind completely long ago if I were in his shoes. But Moses is devoted to the mistress and to those who were kind to him over the years.”

Gibbs waited when the housekeeper
paused at the bottom of the stairs to exchange a few words with Amina, who had
just entered the hall. When they were finished and the young woman went off
toward the kitchens, Gibbs gave Mary his most serious look.

“And if I were to confess my
absolute devotion to ye, Mrs. Page, would ye treat me with same affection as ye
were treating Moses a few minutes ago?”

A blush crept into the woman’s fair
cheeks. “A cup of warm cider and a blanket around your cold shoulders, Mr.
Gibbs?”

“A caressing hand on my back and
soft words whispered in my ear.”      

Mary Page gave him a coy smile. “And why, sir, would someone with your looks and manners be wanting any such thing from an old
widow like me?”

“Old, mum? I think not.” He took
her by the hand and pulled her into the shadow of the steps. “But ye know I’m going a wee bit daft trying to win yer affection, Mrs. Page.”

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Don’t ye now?” Gibbs dropped his
head lower until he was looking into her eyes. “Ye wouldna ride back with me
from Knebworth Village last Sunday. Ye have twice refused my offer of walking
the grounds in the evening this week. Ye didna find the—”

“I should be honored to have tea
with you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tea, did ye say?”

“Tea,” she repeated with a smile.

He bowed, placing a kiss on the
back of her hand.

“Tea! Well, I’ll be dashed, mum,
but I’m thinking ye’ll be making me the gentleman yet.”

“I would expect no less from the
next steward of Melbury Hall.” She withdrew her hand and fluttered past him.
“You would be perfect for the position, Mr. Gibbs, and I do hope you are
considering it.”

*****

Violet ran to keep up with Amina’s
longer strides. “How is Moses taking it?”

“He is very upset, Vi, and that is
not helping anything,” Amina replied. “Jonah wants to have Ohenewaa see to the
dog’s leg, but to do that, Moses has to keep the animal calm. We do not want
the creature to bite anyone. But with Moses moaning and acting more wounded
than the dog…” The young woman shook her head. 

Inside the stables, a lantern was
burning in one of the stalls, and at least a dozen people had gathered. Violet,
followed by Amina, pushed through them to find Moses crouched on a pile of
straw next to his dog. The animal’s leg was a mess, and Violet could see what
looked like bone sticking out of the bloody flesh.

“They should take off the leg,” a
groom said to her left.

“She won’t make it,” someone else
commented. “‘Twould be better to cut her throat and put the poor beast out of
her misery.”

Violet shivered and looked at
Ohenewaa, who was spreading out linen strips and some broken branches amid
several bottles of salve a foot or two away from Moses and the dog. The old
woman said something quietly to Jonah, and the bailiff bent over Moses and
whispered to him.

Even from across the way, Violet
could see that Moses’s body was shaking and tears were running down his face
when he stepped back and let Jonah take his place beside the dog as Ohenewaa
approached.

When the healer touched the
animal’s head, Moses winced. When she reached for the paw, the man’s whimper
matched the dog’s. The old man’s suffering tore at Violet’s heart, and she
found herself pushing through the people and going to him.

“Moses.” She tugged on his arm when
she reached him. Eyes filled with anguish turned to her. “Will you please come
and sit outside with me? I cannot watch this. It breaks my heart.” When he
hesitated, she held his arm. “Please, Moses. I need you.”

The old man’s feet slogged through
the straw as they left the stables. Violet led him outside the open doors and
sat down on a wall, pulling him down next to her.

“I took the basket you made me to
the village this morning,” she said, trying to tear his mind away from what was
going on inside. “Will you show me sometime how you managed to weave all those
pieces together? That was the best present.”

“Do you think she can heal my dog,
Vi?”

“Yes, Moses. I think she can heal
her.”

“M’lady gave her to me. My own.”

“I know.”

“Never had nothing of my own, Vi.”

“I know, Moses.” Violet looked into
the face of the former slave. It didn’t matter to her how hideous he looked. He
was so kind and gentle. She held tight onto his arm and pressed her cheek
against his shoulder.

“You shall always have at least one
friend, Moses, as long as I live.”

“I know that too, Vi. Friends.”

Violet nodded, forcing down the
knot in her throat. “Tell me about your dog, Moses.”