The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride (20 page)

Wullie spread his hands out wide. ‘Ah, nothing. Except Beshlie would like to see you and the lady afore the games.’

That could be easier said than done. ‘I’ll do my best,’ Fraser promised.
If we can escape
. ‘Where are they now?’

‘I dinnae ken.’ Wullie didn’t look Fraser in the eyes as he spoke, and seemed mighty interested in a spider’s web on a nearby fence.

It was obvious his statement was an untruth if there ever was one. However, Fraser accepted that Wullie had no intention of imparting the news whatever threats Fraser offered up to him. ‘As you say. Well, when you go to this place you say you do not know, tell Tam it’s the same field as usual, or the top field next to the copse.’ Where they had been the last time Fraser had seen them. ‘Just let me know which, and I’ll make sure the staff know.’

Wullie reddened and nodded. ‘The top field—I know that without asking. Where they used to go.’

Where you had always put them, seemed to be the unspoken comment. ‘Fine.’ Fraser held out his hand and after a second Wullie took it. ‘I’ll no doubt see you soon.’

‘Ah no doubt. Regards to your lady.’ Wullie doffed his cap and turned on his heel.

Fraser watched him go and shook his head in amusement. Wullie always knew more than he’d let on. However he wouldn’t share what he didn’t want to, so there was no point pressing him. Fraser turned back towards his horse. Retson would be waiting for him in the village and he didn’t want to be too late for their meeting.

By the time they’d spoken to all four families, Fraser’s head ached. How on earth could he say who was more deserving? The four families’ houses had been affected by a rogue horse and a runway wagon a week or so earlier, and he had hoped to make running repairs. However, on closer inspection he accepted the row of cottages weren’t really habitable.

Retson scribbled on a tablet and nodded as each family explained their position. Fraser listened carefully. How could he decide if an aged grannie or a young babe in arms needed a cottage more? This was one of the times he needed a woman’s advice. ‘I’ll think it over and give all you say careful consideration,’ he said when the last man had added his impassioned pleas to those of everyone else. ‘I will personally come and tell you all what I have decided and why. Unless of course you come to an agreement amongst yourselves.’

Two men looked doubtful and the other two frankly sceptical. So it would be up to him. ‘You’ll know before the games.’ And hopefully he’d get advice from someone to help him sort things out. He remembered the words he had written…

“Morven.

My love I am distraught. We sail in one hour and I realise you will not be here, nor with me as part of my future. How will I bear it?”

In the end it was easier than he thought possible. Retson had offered no advice other than to say good luck, and add he was glad it wasn’t up to him. He handed his notes over. ‘I hope these will be of help, for whatever you decide, my lord, will suit some and not others.’

Never a truer word, Fraser thought as he tucked the notes inside his jacket, left the other man and made his way to the castle. As he headed towards the side door, he remembered his promise to Morven and changed direction. The perfect time to visit the kitchen, when the cook would be preparing dinner.

She was and Morven had been correct. The heat was overpowering. Fraser took a deep breath and thought his throat scorched.

‘Good Lord this is impossible,’ he gasped as the scullery maid curtseyed and Effie did a quick bob and turned back to the spit. ‘Why has nothing been said?’

‘Ah, your lordship. I’ve only just mentioned it to Lady Napier, two days past. I felt you had enough to do. We can cope most of the time; it’s just like now, with the fowls roasting and such it gets a bit warm.’

That was the understatement of the year. ‘It’s hotter than the summer in the Indies,’ Fraser said emphatically. ‘Does it need to be?’

The cook shook her head. ‘It’s the range. It needs work on it.’

‘More likely needs condemning,’ Fraser replied. ‘How old is it?’ He found a jug of water and poured himself a glass. He’d rather splash it over his head.

The cook considered. ‘Well, I’ve been here nigh on twenty years and it was here afore me.’

‘Then it is time we ordered a new one,’ Fraser said emphatically. ‘Tell Retson what you need.’ He looked over to the table where a tray of cakes sat cooling. ‘I’m sure if you looked the other way you wouldn’t notice a couple of those buns disappear. I’ve just remembered I’ve had no lunch.’

The cook tutted. ‘Missing meals is not good for you. One moment. Nessie, you turn the spit.’ She went into the pantry and reappeared a few seconds later with a pie in her hands. ‘Mutton—shall I heat it?’

Fraser shook his head. ‘It’s fine like that, many thanks. Now I best go and crack on.’ He took a hearty bite, mumbled his farewells through a mouthful of succulent lamb and pastry and made his way towards his study.

He got as far as the main hall when the door to outside opened and his mother and Morven entered. With a gulp he swallowed his mouthful of pie and cleared his throat. ‘The very people I need.’

‘Both of us?’ his mama asked. ‘For I need to see the housekeeper about…about linens.’

Morven looked puzzled. Evidently it was the first time she’d heard that.

‘Then perhaps I could prevail on you to help me, my lady?’ Fraser turned towards Morven and grinned. ‘I need a woman’s opinion on where to house people.’

His mother looked concerned. ‘Taggart’s Row?’

He nodded. ‘It won’t be fit to live in whilst we work there. In fact I think the row would be best demolished and rebuilt. I have two cottages vacant and four families to house.’

His mama looked concerned, and then her face cleared. ‘I’m sure Morven can give you a clearer, less biased point of view than me. I’ll let you explain it all.’

Fraser nodded. ‘Then if you don’t mind?’ he asked Morven. ‘I’d be grateful for your help.’

She smiled and he hoped his mother couldn’t see the amusement and glee in her expression. ‘Of course, my lord. Where?’

‘The study,’ he said, ‘and we do not want to be disturbed, Mama.’

Lady Napier grinned. ‘Well of course not. This is a knotty problem for you to puzzle over. I’ll make sure your time is your own until the dinner gong.’ She looked from one to the other and nodded decisively. ‘Make sure you use your time wisely.’

Chapter Eleven

‘We’re supposed to be thinking about housing families,’ Morven gasped as she came up for air.

The moment they were inside the study, Fraser grabbed her, pinned her up against the wall and kissed her ruthlessly.

‘Not, not…’

Fraser nibbled his way along her jawline and then swept soft kisses over her neck. ‘Not?’ He nuzzled her ear and laughed softly. ‘I need this, love, oh how I need it.’

Morven moaned as all her sensible thoughts scrambled and all she had intended to say left her mind. She needed his touch as well. For a long moment she let herself be part of them. Be tied together and just feel him around her. Then common sense reasserted itself. As much as she’d just like to pull his buckskins down, kneel on the floor and take him in her mouth, they were in his study. Where, even though they shouldn’t be disturbed, people could hear things if they walked by. Where if a gardener was outside he could see in. She could just imagine the scene. There the gardener was tending the roses and looked up to see Morven tending Fraser.

She bit back her chuckle—she didn’t intend to give Fraser any ideas—they were supposed to discussing estate business, not indulging in their own.

‘Dammit, Fraser, we must stop.’ Morven pushed ineffectually at her lover’s chest. ‘We need to discuss those families’ needs not ours.’

Fraser lifted his head from where he had just moved her gown to one side to expose more of her breasts. ‘Must we?’ He sighed and took a long shuddering breath. ‘Yes, I know, we must. Right.’ He ran his hands through his hair and stepped away from her. ‘Let’s do it. Dare we sit next to each other? I have the notes Retson made here.’

Morven chuckled as he took out a sheaf of papers. ‘Let’s risk it. For how else will we share notes?’

Fraser placed two chairs side by side behind the large desk and indicated one of them. ‘Then let’s begin.’

An hour later Morven sat back and stretched her arms above her head to relieve the ache in her back. She noticed how Fraser’s glance strayed to her bosom and mentally rolled her eyes.
Men.
‘Let me see if I have this straight. Two families have very young children, one has three strapping sons and one is an elderly couple who have no one around to help them?’

Fraser inclined his head. ‘Carson, father of the young children, is the farrier and works in the village. Anderson and his sons work as gamekeepers, so could easily live elsewhere for now. The older men are not tied to the village, but…’ He shrugged. ‘None of them want to move away from all that is familiar, be it only a few miles up the glen.’

‘Hmm.’ Morven looked at Retson’s notes and her annotations and bit her lip as she considered the options. ‘You say there are two cottages in the village?’

‘Until we finish the next block of four, probably by the autumn.’ Fraser stood up abruptly and began to prowl about the room. ‘They will be big enough to house any of the families I’m responsible for. Eventually we’ll replace every home that needs it, but of necessity, other things sometimes come first.’ He picked up a pen and rolled it between his fingers. ‘Lambing, shearing, the harvest.’

‘Well without all that accomplished there would be no workers to need the cottages and crofts. You know, I think the best way is to keep the older couple, the…?’ She looked at Fraser in query.

‘Kenneys.’

‘The Kennys in a cottage if you can. At eighty-odd they don’t want to be climbing stairs. Fraser, sit down or stand still for a while, please.’

He turned around and his eyes widened. ‘Was I pacing?’

Morven grinned. ‘Just a tad. Stop worrying, we will sort it.’ Or so she hoped. ‘So what do you have to suit them?’

By the time the gong to dress for dinner sounded, they’d arranged what they thought should happen. The Kenneys to a tiny cottage near the church, recently vacated by a family who moved north to another of Fraser’s estates. One family with young children hopefully to the hunting lodge along with the Andersons—the family with three older boys who all worked with the gamekeepers around the estate. The other family, who had one child disabled, would be housed in a larger cottage. Hopefully it would all work, as long as the lodge was habitable.

‘All I need to do now is check the lodge and then tell everyone what will happen. If the lodge isn’t fit, then Lord knows what next.’

‘Cross that bridge when you come to it,’ Morven said firmly. Her tummy rumbled and she put her hand over it. ‘I better change for dinner.’

Morven sat in the chair where she fell asleep with regular monotony and heard a familiar creak. The secret door opened and Fraser walked in, still dressed as he had been for dinner. She yawned and stared at him. ‘Going out?’

‘I have a horrid feeling it’s the dying and infirm season,’ he said wryly. ‘Or every old retainer feels it their duty to stop me spending the night with you. Two tonight. A farmer and an ex-footman. Both in the village so at least I can visit them one after another with ease.’ He bent and kissed her, long and lingering. ‘I needed that to keep me going.’ He sighed. ‘I sound ungrateful for my staff and all they have done. I’m not and the least I can do is visit them to let them say their farewells or whatever and reassure their families all will be well. But my body aches for you. Having rediscovered each other this is purgatory. Ah well.’ He lifted her from the chair and walked into her bedchamber to settle her down on the sheets and cover her tenderly. ‘At least if I know you sleep it will relieve me of one worry.’

Morven twined her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. ‘I’ll try. Take care and do all you have to.’

He nodded, pressed another kiss to her lips, and straightened. ‘I have no idea when I will be back but will do my best to find you and spend some time with you, I promise.’

‘That’s all I could ask,’ Morven snuggled down as with one last stroke of her hair Fraser took a step back. Three seconds later he’d gone again.

Morven turned onto her side and closed her eyes. There was no point whatever in indulging in “what if”, or “if only”.

She willed sleep to come to her.

As usual, her dreams were arousing and didn’t help her to get any rest. Morven tossed and turned. Pushed her covers off, shivered and pulled them over her again.

If things carried on as they were for much longer, she’d be a gibbering wreck.

****

Fraser grinned at Morven as she took the coffee he’d managed to inveigle from the cook, now, with a new range ordered, his best friend. ‘How do you like the idea of us taking charge of our own destinies as much as we are able? I want to visit Wullie Curtin, Tam’s cousin who doesn’t travel, to ask if he knows how many Romanies I need to expect at the games. He’s told me they should appear by the weekend, and that Beshlie wants to see us both before the games but no more. Who knows what else we might discover?’

‘But will our parents not then decide we have acted with impropriety?’ Morven swung her legs out of bed and sipped the coffee. ‘This is nectar. I might be persuaded to change from my usual chocolate and have coffee first thing in the morning instead. I feel invigorated.’

‘Excellent.’ Fraser flicked her nose. ‘As regards to our parents, as they made no demur when we went to the spare house unchaperoned, I fail to see how they could raise a dust over this, where we will be with Wullie and his Jessie. However, let’s away before we have to test my theory.’ He twisted his riding crop in his hands and only the tight grip on it betrayed his agitation and he forced himself to relax his hands.

‘Thank goodness I have my riding habit handy.’ Morven put down her coffee and picked up her habit. Give me a few minutes.’ She whisked into the bathing chamber.

Fraser picked up the discarded coffee and finished it just as she returned and gathered up her gloves and hat. ‘You don’t need to hide to change.’