Lucy and Her Scottish Laird (3 page)

He made a low, obnoxious chuckle

“How do I get out?”

“There is no way out, except for the passage you came through.” He gestured toward the tunnel. “And you are more than welcome to go
through it again.”

Lucy decided to ignore the man’s rudeness and give in to her curiosity. She looked around at the ancient drawings on the walls. “This was a
Viking strong room,” she said quietly to herself. It only made sense. There were no windows or doors, and the passageway was easily guarded, or even
hidden. In addition, the drawings on the walls portrayed great riches – cups, chalices, coins.

The Scotsman refilled his glass and took a long drink.

As much as Lucy would have liked to stay and really study the Viking etchings, she had no interest in spending one more minute with this odious Scot who
lounged in his chair like the lowest drunken sot, as though she were not even in the room. She did not bother to say good day as she retraced her steps
through the passage to the horrid statue garden.

Ian awoke in his chair in near darkness. The last of the candles had nearly sputtered out, and he wondered if he’d dreamed his little encounter with
Miss Lucy Stillwater.

She was astonishingly beautiful in close quarters, and not the least bit simpering. He would have smiled at her audacious remarks if he still did not feel
quite so wretched.

He took the sputtering candle and made his way out of the ancient treasury – fancy the young Englishwoman realizing what it was right off – and
went around to a back entrance he knew from past visits to Glencory. It took him to a staircase that led to the wing where his room was located. He could
hear strains of music from the pianoforte in the music room far below, and a young woman singing.

He knew Lady Glencory had not forgotten him, but at least she would not insist he join her party. Thank God. Because Lord Glencory’s excellent Scotch
whiskey had done nothing to improve his mood.

Ian woke Ferguson, who had fallen asleep in a chair in Ian’s room, and sent him off to bed. The man was as much a friend and companion as he was
Ian’s secretary and steward, but Ian didn’t want any conversation tonight. “Get some rest, for we leave early tomorrow.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Once Ian was in bed, he found sleep elusive. His thoughts flew from one subject to another – from the irritating Miss Stillwater, to his
family’s declining fortunes, to the truth of his own birth.

Miss Stillwater was the least of his worries. Surely a passing attraction to a beautiful woman would evaporate once she was out of sight. All that would
remain was the memory of her prickly demeanor.

According to his father, the business in Selkirk was crucial. And it got him away from Craigmuir Castle for a few days – away from the mother
who’d always hated him, and the father who’d protected him, but felt nothing but guilt over him.

Ian wished the duke had never told him about his affair with the Irishwoman. At least that way, he would still feel as though he belonged in his own skin.

Now, though…

He and all his titles were a sham. He, who’d always put such stock in honor and honesty, was living a lie. He ought to make the truth known, and live
with the consequences.

Lucy ended up staying at Glencory for three days. She did not see the unpleasant Scotsman again, nor did she ever learn his name, but she did not regret
it. There was no point in bothering with such a disagreeable person. Once Lucy made her way out of the fascinating Viking chamber, she had a chance to
refresh herself in the comfortable bedchamber Lady Glencory had given her. Then she did her best to enjoy the rest of her stay at the castle with Lord
Glencory showing her some of the more interesting features of the ancient building.

Still, she was glad when they finally departed for the last leg of their journey. She and her aunt and uncle set off in one carriage, as usual, with their
servants and luggage following shortly behind. It was a long day’s ride to Edinburgh, but tonight they would finally arrive at their destination.

At midday, they stopped in a pleasant, wooded area to eat the lunch that had been packed for them. Lucy was grateful for the reprieve from the hot, stuffy
confines of the carriage.

“Lord Erskine seemed particularly taken with you, Lucy,” Arden said, referring to the overbearing earl. “But you were wise to avoid his
attentions. ’Tis said he will be a pauper soon if he continues with his gambling and whoring.”

Lucy’s face went hot at her aunt’s use of the shameful word.

“Do not go all missish on us now, girl,” Arden said. “You need to find a husband who knows how to use his time and his money, and Erskine
is not the one.”

She was certain Joshua Parris was a prudent man, for his estate flourished under his care. He was well respected by everyone who knew him, including her
father.

“Lord Markham is a likely suitor,” Arden said. “He has a house in Edinburgh, as well as an estate up in Aberdeenshire.”

“He does not suit me, Aunt.”

“Why ever not? He is handsome and sufficiently pleasant for your English tastes.”

Lucy supposed he was decent enough, but he was not Joshua. And his estate was even farther north than Edinburgh. She shuddered. “He does not appeal
to me, and that is all there is to it.”

“If you are going to take that attitude toward every young man you meet, then you are destined to stay a spinster,” Arden said.

Stay
a spinster? Lucy did not consider herself a spinster at the ripe age of twenty-two. Besides, she had no intention of giving up on Joshua Parris, so there
was no point in arguing with her aunt.

The maid and footman were just clearing away the simple meal when the drivers of their two carriages approached. “My lord, there’s a change in
weather coming,” one of them said. “We should move on as soon as is convenient.”

“Very good, MacLean. We are ready, are we not, my dear?”

“Yes, yes,” Arden said. “Let’s do go on. Now that we are so close to home, I am anxious to arrive.”

Thank heavens
, Lucy thought. No more stops until they reached Edinburgh. And hopefully, no more talk about whom she should marry. At least not now. She knew she could
not escape that discussion forever.

Lucy’s uncle dozed for the next hour or two, his head bobbing with every sway of the carriage. They’d been on the road too many days already.
Halfway into their journey, Lucy had feared they would never reach their destination.

The carriage stopped and Lucy’s uncle awoke enough to push the curtain aside as MacLean came around to the door.

“My lord,” he said, opening the carriage door.

It had become windy, and Lucy could feel rain on the air. It had been stifling hot inside, and she appreciated the breeze.

“The wind has picked up considerably and the clouds have grown heavy. I believe we’re in for a downpour,” MacLean said. “With your
permission, I will make haste toward Craigmuir Castle where we can shelter.”

“Are you certain, MacLean? Perhaps we ought to stay put and wait it out.”

“The horses, my lord. They’ll—”

“Aye, go ahead. Perhaps we can get by before the rain. This road always turns into a muddy morass when the sky opens up.”

MacLean returned to his seat on top, and Lady Kildrum pulled a face. “Really, Archie? You know I cannot stand the Duchess of Craigmuir, and
I’ve heard the duke has taken to drink – even worse than ever.”

“Well, we’ll only put up with their hospitality for the duration of the storm and then make our way home. They might not even be at
home.”

Arden made a deep sound of disapproval just as the carriage lurched forward, practically flying across the roadway. Everyone hung on as the carriage horses
dashed through the storm, and they cringed at the sound of thunder and the sudden crashing of rain upon the carriage roof.

“I think we should stop and wait for the storm to pass!” Arden shouted over the noise of the storm and the beating of the horses’ hoofs.

“No! MacLean is right. ’Tis better to find shelter!” Uncle Archie barked. “I’d rather not be struck by lightning out
here!”

They galloped on until there was a sudden loud, terrifying crack, and the carriage lurched into the air. Lucy tried to hold on, but the carriage seemed to
be tumbling. Her head hit the roof, and the carriage rolled, knocking the occupants in every direction until it finally came to rest under the pelting
rain. They seemed to be upright now, and Lucy found herself on the floor, with her uncle right beside her. There was an ominous silence within, but for the
rain.

Lucy managed to pull herself up to the seat. The wind howled about her and the rain whisked in through the broken door. Uncle Archie was unconscious, but
Aunt Arden was not even inside.

“Come on, Ferguson!” Ian shouted over the rumbles of thunder. “We can make it to Craigmuir Castle in no time!”

“But the lightning, my lord! The mud!”

“We’ll be home before the next one strikes!”

Ian had always loved a good storm. The drama taking place in the clouds was far better than the indifference shown him by his mother and the habitual
absence of his father.

“There’s a carriage stopped up ahead,” he called out as he slowed his pace. The rain was still stoating off the ground, but at least the
thundering had slowed.

He and Ferguson approached the carriage as two servants climbed out and ran with their driver to another carriage that lay bent and broken just ahead. It
was listing partially on its side just off the roadway.

It was a disaster. A rear wheel had cracked off and was sight unseen. A man – most likely the driver – lay motionless in the mud some distance
from the carriage. A well-dressed woman lay on the other side, just beyond the broken door.

Servants from the intact the carriage ran ahead as Ferguson quickly dismounted and went to assist the motionless carriage driver. Ian followed the maid and
the driver of the second carriage who were hurrying to the woman on the ground.

“Oh Christ,” he muttered when he crouched beside her and saw her condition. “Who is she?” he asked.

“She is Countess Kildrum, my lord,” she said. “I am her maid, Sinclair.”

“I’m Davis, yer lordship,” the carriage driver said. “And this is Miles, Lord Kildrum’s valet. We were on our way to
Edinburgh when the storm came upon us.”

Lady Kildrum was breathing, but she had a large gash on her forehead that was rapidly swelling. It was hard to tell what other injuries she’d
sustained, but it could hardly be worse.

“We need to get her out of the rain.”

“Her husband and niece are still in the carriage,” Sinclair said.

Shite
. It just got worse.

Davis removed his coat and held it over Lady Kildrum to keep the rain off her.

“Help me carry her to your carriage,” Ian said. “We’ll take her to my home – Craigmuir Castle.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Davis said. “I did not realize who you were.”

“No, no – the duke is my father. I am Broxburn.”

They lifted Lady Kildrum and got her into the servants’ carriage. The maid helped to settle her on one of the cushioned benches. “Stay with her
and make sure she does not fall,” Ian said. It did not appear to be the most comfortable situation, but it was not far to Craigmuir Castle. She would
not have to stay that way for long.

Ian returned to the battered carriage and heard sounds of distress from within. Ferguson was helping a familiar young woman out. Ian’s heart clenched
in his chest at the sight of blood trickling down the side of Miss Stillwater’s face, though he could not see a wound.

“My uncle!” she cried. “He is badly hurt.”

“We’ll get him,” Ian said, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her.

“And my aunt! Where is she?”

“She is already inside the other carriage with her maid.” Ian put his arm around her waist when she stumbled. “Easy, now. Let’s get
you out of the rain.”

She was soft and vulnerable now, nothing like the prickly female he’d encountered at Glencory.

“How is my aunt? Is she injured?”

“I fear so.”

He helped Miss Stillwater into the carriage with her aunt, then turned around to assist Ferguson and Davis with Lord Kildrum. They managed to get all three
into the carriage as the maid climbed out. “Take them to the castle, Davis. Make haste, but take care.”

Just before he shut the carriage door, Miss Stillwater handed him his coat. “Thank you, sir,” she said gravely. “You’ll need
this.”

Ian gave her a quick nod, closed the door, and the carriage set off. He dragged on his jacket and went to deal with the maid and the manservant. “Get
inside the carriage,” Ian said to them. “You can shelter here at least, until help arrives. It won’t be long.”

“Ferguson, ride ahead and send someone for Dr. Henderson, then send help back here.”

“Aye, my lord.”

As Lucy leaned forward to hold her aunt securely on the seat in front of her, Uncle Archie rested his head against her shoulder. They were all hurt, but
none more seriously than Arden. Lucy felt the need to place her hand upon her aunt’s chest to be sure she was still breathing.

Tears welled in her eyes, but Lucy tamped down the urge to weep. She told herself her aunt would survive and her uncle would be fine. But Arden did not
come around, not even when the carriage stopped.

It was still quite windy when Davis opened the door, but at least it was no longer raining. Davis helped her out, and suddenly the carriage was surrounded
by burly footmen dressed in black and green livery. One of them took charge of her uncle, another climbed into the carriage and handed her Aunt Arden into
their rescuer’s waiting arms.

The handsome young man might have been perfectly horrid at Glencory, but he had come to their aid today just when they most needed it. And now he was
carrying Arden into the castle, a massive, obviously ancient fortress.

Davis supported her uncle and they led him inside.