The Highlander's Yuletide Love (6 page)

“May I
compliment you on your gown? That shade of blue is very becoming to you.”

“Thank you,
Colonel Stirling.”

“I understand
from my friend, Exencour, that you are an accomplished painter,” he continued.

Sophy hesitated.
“I do like to paint, but I am not sure I am accomplished,” she said earnestly. “My
teachers say I am talented, but my parents pay them, you know, and my parents
and friends love me too much to say otherwise.”

Ranulf paused
for moment, regarding her seriously. “There is nothing wrong with being loved.”

“I know that,
and I do not mean to sound ungrateful. It is just that, if I am not gifted
enough to paint truly well, I should stop teasing my parents about it and do as
they wish and marry.”

“Marry? Do you
have someone in mind?”

“It is not as
though I have had no offers, you know,” said Sophy confidingly. “But I have not
wished to marry any of them.”

“I see,” said
Ranulf gravely. “Why not?”

“I—I did not
care for them enough.” Sophy tilted her head, considering her words. “They were
pleasant, but I had no interest in long conversations with them, and it
mattered not to me if they came or went. I am used to Mama and Papa, you know,
who are very fond of one another, and Francis and Isobel, who dote on each
other’s every action.”

“Felicity in
marriage is to be valued, I believe,” agreed Ranulf. “But if you find you
cannot paint as you wish to, will you then marry one of these gentlemen to
please your parents?”

“Now you are
teasing me,” said Sophy with a touch of dignity. “My parents would never force
me into a marriage I did not choose. But if I cannot paint—if it is to be a
mere amusement, and not a vocation—then I suppose it would not matter much.”

Ranulf raised
his eyebrows. “You are very serious for such a young woman. Most girls your age
would be only too happy to have so many suitors, and to be freed from such
things as working at their painting.”

“I am not a
young woman,” Sophy protested. “This is the second time this hour I have had to
point out to someone that I am one-and-twenty.”

Ranulf laughed,
but the sound was gentle. “A veritable aged hag, to be sure,” he answered. “No,
don’t become angry with me again,” he continued, when a look of annoyance
crossed Sophy’s face. “I do not mean to insult you. I only wish you to cherish
your youth, and enjoy it.”

“You speak as
though you are ancient! You cannot be more than five-and-thirty,” protested
Sophy.

“That does not
seem old you?”

Sophy wrinkled
her nose. “Well, a little, perhaps. But one would not guess it, to look at you.”

“I thank you,
Lady Sophia, for your kindness.”

Sophy looked
flustered. “I did not intend to be rude, I only meant—”

“Do not
continue—an explanation would only complicate the issue. I will take it as a
compliment.”

“That was how I
meant it,” said Sophy candidly. “After all, Exencour is the same age, and we
are all very fond of him. And my father—”

“I don’t think
we need to compare me to your father,” said Ranulf.

Sophy flushed,
and then gave a gurgle of laughter at the look of comical terror on his face. “I
fear that you may regret beginning our acquaintance anew, Colonel Stirling.”

“Not at all,
Lady Sophia. I am getting much pleasure out of it, to be sure.”

Sophy glanced up
and met his eyes. She opened her mouth to answer, but Harriet swept down upon
them.

“You must not
monopolize Colonel Stirling, Sophy,” she said. “Though, indeed, I promised him
that he would see your work! Shall we go up to your workroom so that he may
view it?”

Sophy turned
stricken eyes on the colonel. He smiled back at her.

“Thank you, Lady
Glencairn,” he said, standing. “But I fear I am not knowledgeable enough to
offer an opinion. I would be better off taking tutelage in the merits of
various artists from Lady Sophia! Instead of subjecting her to my incoherent opinions,
perhaps it would be best if I returned to my discussion of horseflesh with
Kincraig. In that area I can be sure of my expertise.”

Harriet looked
disappointed, but Douglas stepped forward, only too eager to oblige the
colonel. Ranulf paused a moment, and turned to Sophy.

“Perhaps some
time in the future you will wish to show me your paintings, Lady Sophia,” he
murmured. “If that were to happen, I would be delighted.”

“It is not that
I do not want you to --” she began, but he shook his head.

“You do not need
to explain. I understand what it is to value something highly, and to share it
when one wishes to, not when others demand it.”

“Thank you,”
breathed Sophy.

“Not at all.” Ranulf
bowed politely and moved away, bearing Kincraig with him.

“What a pity
that he did not wish to see your paintings,” said Harriet. “No doubt to you
that is another black mark in his book.”

“On the
contrary,” Sophy surprised her by saying. “I am finding that Colonel Stirling
improves with acquaintance.”

Dearest
Philippa,

We depart next
week for Glencairn, and I must say I will be very happy to leave London behind
us. It is growing warm, and the noise and dirt are beginning to wear on me. Company
grows thin, and there is little reason for us to be here now, as Sophy
continues to show no interest in her suitors. I half hoped that Lord Osterley,
who has been showing her some very flattering attentions these past two weeks,
might appeal to her, but she says that he leaves her unmoved. I think it a
great pity, but she cannot be budged.

 I begin to
believe the only thing I will miss in London is Colonel Stirling! He has become
a great favorite in our household, and has been very kind to Douglas, taking
him driving in the Park and teaching him any number of things involving horses
and driving that I am afraid I do not understand! But the boy is in transports
of delight, and therefore I am happy as well. Glencairn is less effusive in his
praise of the colonel, of course, but they have forged quite a friendship. G.
told me only yesterday that Colonel Stirling is a decent fellow, and you can be
sure that is high praise indeed from my husband! But you must not think that he
does not know how to conduct himself in a drawing room; indeed, he has been
very polite to me and even arranged for himself, the Exencours and our little
family to drive out to Richmond for a picnic! It was a delightful day, and he
would not be thanked, saying only that it was a very small repayment for the
kindness we had showed him. Such a pretty turn of phrase, you must admit.

You will notice
that I do not mention Sophy. At first she had a great abhorrence of the
colonel, but it seems now that she likes him a bit better. Still, she is very
quiet when he is visiting, and, though I see them speak from time to time, she
has little to say about him. I think it very odd, for a kinder, more handsome
gentleman I have never met, but then Sophy can be a bit, dare I say it,
bullheaded at times. Still, they are no longer at loggerheads, which is a very
good thing, as I consider him quite one of the family. I shall miss him a great
deal, though he is a Scotsman, so perhaps we will have the opportunity to see
him again soon.

I must go to
supervise the packing; I find that if I am not there the servants neglect to
pack the best pillowcases, or the boots that Glencairn feels he absolutely must
wear while we travel are buried at the bottom of his trunk. Please know I think
of you fondly, and will write again when we are safe at home.

Your loving
sister,

Harriet

A well-sprung
traveling carriage bearing the Glencairn arms trundled through the Scottish
countryside, its shining black lacquer gleaming against the rolling green
hills. The earl and his countess were comfortably ensconced inside, while Lord
Kincraig and Lady Sophia rode beside, enjoying the warmth of the June sun. Several
miles back, a coach loaded with an imperial as well as innumerable trunks and
valises lumbered along. Inside a most superior lady’s maid and her counterpart,
the earl’s valet, swayed back and forth with the lurching of the vehicle.

“Well Mr.
Fletcher, it will be a relief to be out of this coach and drinking a cup of tea
in the Hall at Glencairn this afternoon,” the maid remarked.

“Indeed, Miss
Wilson. It’s certainly better to be journeying here in the summer rather than
the chill of winter, but it’s still a long, weary road. I feel I am moving even
after I alight in the evening.”

“It could be
worse. I feel sorry for Lady Selmine’s dresser; they are spending the summer in
London, as her mother is too ill to move. The heat and smell will be
unbearable.” Miss Wilson shuddered.

“There aren’t so
many nights waiting up late after routs and balls, either,” the valet
continued. “I find country hours very agreeable.”

“I suppose there
will be more entertaining than usual this summer,” Wilson said, with a
significant gleam in her eye. “I hear that Colonel Stirling will be visiting
Lord and Lady Exencour, and you know how the countess dotes on him. He’s a
great favorite of Kincraig’s as well. It’s nice that he will be here to amuse
them; her ladyship must be that worried about Lady Sophia, saying she wants to
paint instead of marrying. Perhaps she’s hoping to find a man for her here in
Scotland.”

“But Lady Sophia
has been acquainted with every eligible gentleman in this neighborhood since
she was a babe. Why would she take an interest in one of them now?”

“I wouldn’t be
at all surprised to see a great number of house parties, and visitors from the
surrounding counties. Her ladyship might be humoring Lady Sophia, but I doubt
she’ll give up on the idea of her marrying.” The abigail sniffed. “If you ask
me, the girl’s spoiled. Racketing about the countryside, painting flowers and
rivers and mooning about on the heath all day, sketching. If she were my
daughter, I’d put a stop to that sort of nonsense.”

Mr. Fletcher
laughed. “I have no doubt you would. She’s a nice girl, though; always pleasant
to the staff, and never demanding. Spoiled she may be, but she has a sweet
temperament.”

“Self-indulgent,
I call her,” continued Miss Wilson. “Never thinking of the duty she owes her
family. At her age she should have a child or two already, and a home of her
own, not be here at Glencairn worrying her poor stepmother. As though Lady
Glencairn doesn’t have enough to think of, with that Kincraig promising to be
wild, and a wee child of her own.”

The valet shook
his head. “It’s not for us to question the ways of the gentry, Miss Wilson. I
suppose they will do as they please.”

The maid sniffed
again and crossed her arms over her chest. Her further thoughts were not
stated, however, as at that moment, the coach lurched over a deep rut in the
road, and the occupants were forced to busy themselves making sure that the
baggage piled high in the carriage didn’t fall to the floor, damaging its
delicate contents.

Little knowing
that she was the focus of below stairs conversation, Lady Sophia gazed down the
road, and, realizing that she was even closer to home than she had thought,
turned her head toward her brother.

“Let’s race to
the bridge!” she called out, and Kincraig, who was some yards behind her,
clapped his heels to his roan hunter without responding, quickly gaining on
her. Laughing, Sophy tapped her mare’s shoulder with her crop. The horse
obligingly broke into a gallop, and soon the black gauze ribbon that ornamented
her elegant top hat streamed out behind her, as she and the grey mare raced
down the road, oat fields alternating with oak trees as they hastened along. Lady
Glencairn looked out of the traveling chaise as her stepchildren galloped past
them, and sighed.

“They are racing
again, Euan,” she exclaimed.

“Who can blame
them?” her husband responded. “If I were riding, I’d give them a run for it. It’s
a long trip from London, and we all wish it over.”

A mile down the
road, Sophy and Douglas pulled up at the stone bridge, their horses breathing
hard.

“I won!” Douglas
declared.

“Not at all,”
Sophy disagreed. “If you were slightly ahead of me, it’s only because I had no
notion you were about to start. It was unfair.”

“Weak stuff,
Sophy,” he said. “You must learn to acknowledge when you have been beaten.” He
grinned at the annoyed look on her face. “Oh, I wish we didn’t have to stop,”
he continued. “I’m so tired of traveling. I just want to be at Glencairn.”

“As do we all. But
we can’t gallop through the village.”

“Well, we could,”
her brother disagreed. “But I don’t care to think what our father would have to
say if we did.”

They walked
their mounts sedately down the cobbled street of the village, and then trotted
away again when they reached the outskirts, not slowing until they reached the
road that led down a steep hill to Glencairn’s sheltered location on the
Dargenwater. The castle, clearly originating in the Middle Ages, but much added
onto in the centuries that had passed since its building, lay before them,
occupying a high spot above the river, and overlooking a wide and fertile
valley. The Earl’s colors fluttered from the tower, indicating that they were
expected. As the road flattened out, the pair picked up a trot again, and very
soon pulled up in front of the wide steps leading to the vast door. The butler
stepped out to greet them, as Kincraig dismounted and a groom ran to help Lady
Sophia down.

The butler
beamed at them as they walked through the massive doors and into the hall. “Lord
Kincraig, Lady Sophia, it’s a pleasure to see the two of you. Glencairn is
always happiest when the earl is in residence.”

“Mama and Papa
are just a few minutes behind, MacDonald,” Sophy said, her eyes bright with
exhilaration. “Kincraig and I couldn’t resist galloping the last mile or so to
the bridge.” She tossed her hat on the demi-lune table, and glanced into the
large looking glass as she carelessly pushed her curls into some semblance of
order. “I’m sure that we would all love a cup of tea when they arrive, MacDonald,”
she said. “Could you bring a tray to the drawing room?”

“Certainly, Lady
Sophia,” he replied, as he led the way to the drawing room and opened the door
for the pair. With a bow he departed for the kitchen, and Sophy flung herself
into a silk-covered chair.

“Oh, it is
delightful to sit on something that isn’t moving!”

“We sat on
stationary chairs in every inn that we stopped at,” her brother disagreed.

“It’s not the
same,” she replied, inarguably.

He dropped into
a chair across from her. “I think you’re right, this is much better. It’s
because we’re home. I tell you, Sophy, as much fun as London is, I am always
happy to return here.”

Sophy nodded
pensively. “Home is where the heart is,” she observed. “I know it is trite, but
all the things I love are here, after all. Mama and Papa, of course, and you
and I were both born here. Our mother died here as well, and all of our
ancestors back to the founding of the house. In the end, it’s hard to leave,
and easy to return to.”

Douglas laughed
and tossed an embroidered cushion at her. “You are so solemn,” he teased. “Someday
you’ll leave here and go to your own home.”

“I can’t imagine
loving another place as much as I love Glencairn,” she replied.

“Well, you’ll
have to,” said Douglas frankly.

“No, I won’t. You
know I don’t plan to marry.”

He shrugged. “You’ll
change your mind. Women always do.”

“I will not!”

“You will!”

The pair glared
at each other for a moment, and then Douglas grinned. “If you don’t marry,
you’ll have to put up with me as earl one day. I shall wed someday, of course,
and have a passel of children. You can help care for them, I suppose.”

Sophy shuddered.
“You as earl,” she scoffed. “I’ve never been happier that Papa is so hale. I
shall live at the dower house, and paint, and entertain intelligent, worldly
people.”

“It sounds damn
dull.” Douglas stretched his legs out in front of him. “You can busy yourself
with your intellectuals and I shall go fishing with Francis and Ranulf.”

“I’m sure you
shall,” said Sophy with disdain.

The door opened
and the beaming butler carried in the tea tray, placing it on the table in
front of them. Sophy reached eagerly for a cup.

“I’m parched,”
she declared.

Sophy was just
pouring a second cup of tea for herself and her brother when a stir in the hall
indicated that the Earl and Countess had arrived as well. In a few moments,
Harriet and Glencairn joined them, looking every bit as pleased to be home as
the children were.

“How clever of
you to have tea ready,” Harriet said contentedly. “What a dear girl you are,
Sophy.” She sank down on the settee and took a sip from the cup Sophy offered
her. “It is good to be home. All we need now is to hear that the Exencours have
arrived and we shall have nothing more to wish for!”

“Be patient, my
dear,” the earl advised. “They were not planning to depart London for a few
more days, but you can be sure you will hear from Lady Exencour immediately
upon their arrival.”

“I’m looking
forward to seeing Francis again,” said Douglas. “We shall go fishing, while
Sophy looks down her nose at us.”

Harriet looked
from him to his sister, mystified. “Whatever are you talking about?” she asked.

“Douglas is
being silly,” said Sophy. “I’m sure it matters to me not at all what the lot of
you do. I shall paint, of course, and help Isobel at her excavations.”

“I think we
should have a dinner party, perhaps with dancing afterwards, to celebrate our
return,” mused Harriet. “Wouldn’t that be lovely? The days are so long now, and
we could throw open the doors to the terrace. We shall invite several
neighboring families and their children, and of course the Exencours and
Colonel Stirling. I’m sure he must be an excellent dancer.”

“No doubt,” said
Sophy tartly. “He excels in all things, as I recall.”