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‘Did it now?’
‘It was good of you.’ His granite expression made it hard to continue. ‘I just wanted to thank you.’
His lips twisted into a bitter line. ‘And one good turn deserves another. You’ll no mention the changes at the mill to your father.’ The cart lurched to a halt beside the stone arch.
Her stomach dipped. It was hardly the kind of response to her thanks she’d expected. He was waiting for her answer. She straightened her shoulders. ‘No. I won’t say a thing.’
Then Angus was there, reaching into the back of the wagon to help her down.
The dog lifted his lip and growled low in his throat.
Selina laughed, albeit the sound a little brittle, but true to form, and Angus noticed nothing. ‘You’ll have to get past my protector, Mr McIver.’
Angus glanced up at Ian. How odd. She’d meant the dog.
‘Gilly,’ Ian growled. ‘Down.’
The dog put its ears down and thumped its tail, sending up a puff of dust. Angus lifted her down.
‘Can ye walk, lass?’ He handed her his stick. A solid, gnarled length of hawthorn.
She gave him a grateful smile. ‘This will certainly help.’
The old Scot untied Topaz, grasped him by the bridle. Together they walked towards the gate
At the sound of the cart pulling away, she glanced back and met Ian’s dark gaze. He nodded, a slight movement of his head, yet it seemed to say I trust you not to betray me.
And she wouldn’t. She never had.
Her heart was pounding as if she had run a mile, when really she had only walked the few steps from the manse. It was excitement causing her heart to beat faster, not the fear of seeing Ian again. Or the prospect of seeing his pleasure at the news she brought.
Dry-mouthed, she knocked on the door of his house. One of the few not owned by her father. Some long time ago, Ian’s grandfather had married well, giving the family the house, some land and the mill, according to her father. And they’d been a thorn in the side of every Albright since.
If they would just work together … Perhaps they could now, if Ian’s pride would let him accept her offer. Half-afraid she might turn and run, she knocked again. Breath held, she listened to the sound of footsteps on the other side.
The door swung back and Ian stared at her, his mouth dropping open. He was in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. His throat was bare, where he had not donned a cravat. He looked thoroughly rakish and disreputable. Inside she winced. Clearly, she should have warned him of her intended visit.
He rubbed at his chin with an ink-stained thumb as he clearly tried to recover from his surprise. ‘Lady Selina?’ He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped outside to join her on the front step, pulling the door almost closed behind him, as if he did not want whoever was inside to know she was there.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. A bright smile formed on her lips. It always did when she was nervous. She nodded regally. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Gilvry.’
The wary look on his face remained. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I have something to show you.’
‘What sort of something?’
Always suspicious. She pulled the key from her reticule. ‘This.’
‘Who is it, Ian?’ a woman’s voice called from inside the house.
‘No one, Ma,’ he called back. ‘Wait here a moment,’ he said to Selina. He shot back inside and closed the door.
He definitely didn’t want whoever was inside to know who had called. Most likely she was his mother. The minister had told her and Chrissie that Mrs Gilvry had been ill for some time. Selina walked down the short garden path to the lane. She didn’t want her presence to cause him any embarrassment. Nor did she want to be caught on his front step by one of his younger brothers.
A few moments passed before he joined her, properly dressed in his coat with a belcher knotted at his throat.
‘I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,’ he said politely.
‘Not at all.’
‘What is this about?’
The way he said ‘about’ made her toes curl in her sensible half-boots. ‘It is a surprise.’
‘A pleasant one, I hope?’
She cast him a glance from under the brim of her chip-straw bonnet. ‘I believe even you will think so.’
They walked in silence for a few minutes, towards the manse, then she turned onto a narrow lane with stone walls on either side that led around the back of the church.
Excitement bubbled up in her chest again. He had to be pleased. He could not turn down this gift of hers. Well, hers and Chrissie’s. They had plotted it all out for two days, talking and explaining, until Father had thrown his hands in the air and told them to do just as they pleased, because they were going to anyway, with or without his permission.
Chrissie had happily left to her the duty of telling the Laird of their intention.
She stopped at a gap in the wall. The track to the ancient building before them was overgrown with weeds.
‘The tithe barn?’ he said. ‘Is this your surprise?’
‘Yes.’ She picked up her pace and instead of going in by the double-wooden barn doors, she made her way to a small door at the far end, carefully avoiding thistles and stinging nettles, some of which grew as high as her shoulders. She unlocked the door and threw it wide open, revealing a dusty empty room with a counting desk and a set of wooden shelves with pigeon holes against one wall.
‘It hasn’t been used for years,’ she said.
‘A tithe of nothing is nothing,’ Ian said. ‘The vicar takes his due from the collection plate. What is it you wanted me to see?’
‘Wouldn’t this make the most perfect place to hold a school for the local children?’
His eyes widened. ‘Are you telling me the vicar agreed we could use this building for a school?’
‘The barn is on Father’s land.’ She bit her lip. She should not have mentioned who owned the land. ‘He has agreed it can be used for a school.’
He stepped inside and turned in a circle, glancing up at the roof and staring at walls, much as she had done the previous day. He swung around to face her. He didn’t look particularly pleased, but nor did he look annoyed.
‘You don’t think it would work?’ she asked, fighting her disappointment with a smile.
‘It is a fine room. We could build trestle tables, find some stools.’
‘There are funds set aside by Lady Albright for a teacher. We could send to Edinburgh. What to do you think? Will you support the idea?’ she asked. ‘The clan members won’t send their children if you speak against it.’
He stared at her. ‘Why this concern now? We don’t need your charity.’
His suspicions were like a blade sliding between her ribs. ‘Would you prefer the children to run wild, with no chance for an education?’
He stepped closer, too close, looking down at her, his eyes flaring hot. Anger, she thought. Then wasn’t so sure. The blue in his gaze was so intense, the heat so bright with his body only inches from hers, it crashed against her cool skin. Her heart banged against her ribs, the sound loud in her ears. Breathing became difficult, as if the only air in the room belonged to him.
The strangest sense that he was going to kiss her tugged at her, drawing her closer; she could swear her body was leaning into his with a wild kind of longing.
He jerked back. She could have sworn she gasped at the shock of it, yet her ears heard no sound. It was all in her imagination, the connection, the physical pull.
‘It won’t make them think any better of your father,’ he said, his voice harsher than usual, his breathing less steady than before.
She shrugged, feigning indifference to the obviously dismissive words. ‘I didn’t expect it would.’
‘Niall will teach them. Two mornings a week.’
Did this mean he supported the idea, after all? ‘He can apply to the vicar with respect to his pay.’
‘He will not require payment.’
Apparently, his pride would not permit Albright money to be spent, but he would begrudgingly accept the loan of the building.
‘Are you sure Niall would be willing to work for no pay?’
‘The children will not come to a stranger. And they need someone who speaks the Gaelic.’
‘The children would obey you.’
A small smile curved on his lips. ‘Aye.’ He brushed by her and out of the door. He stopped and looked back. ‘Thank your father for the use of the barn. I’ll have Will Gair set to making some tables and trestles. Him, your father can pay.’
No wonder he looked so pleased with himself. He had found a way for Father to right what he saw as a wrong. ‘You are welcome, Mr Gilvry.’
His cheeks flushed a little red. ‘Thank you, Lady Selina.’ He strode away.
A proud man, but even so she had managed him quite nicely. And so what if he took it upon himself to provide the teacher and charge her father
for the furniture? The children would have their schooling.
That was all that mattered. A feeling of satisfaction filled her. A sense of a job well done, despite his reaction. Perhaps the people of Dunross would recognise her father’s generosity, even if their Laird would not.
And as for thinking he was going to kiss her, well … that was all in her imagination. More likely, he had wanted to tell her to go to hell, but had put the welfare of his people ahead of his own preferences.
Two days later, a fine drizzle hung over the hilly landscape like mist. It was almost as if the clouds, having brushed against the heather-clad hills, wanted to linger. There was no thinking about setting foot out of doors, not even in the carriage, so Selina stretched out on the sofa in the drawing room with a book to while away the hours until supper.
The drawing-room door opened and Chrissie bounced in. ‘You will never guess who is here.’
Selina put down her book. ‘Who?’
‘Lieutenant Dunstan.’
Her heart took an unpleasant dive. She hadn’t expected him quite so soon. But the sooner the better, surely?
‘Is he here to see me?’
‘He is with your father in his study.’ Chrissie clasped her hands together. ‘I am sure he is here to propose.’
Good news—then why did she feel a kind of panic? She wanted this. It had been all her idea. A new beginning after her accident. ‘Did Father send for me?’
Chrissie frowned. ‘No. But I am sure he will want to see you when they have concluded their business.’
Chrissie was as anxious for the marriage as Selina was herself. She hadn’t said anything, but she and Selina had occasionally disagreed on household matters. Until Father had finally told Selina it was no longer her concern.
It had been a painful truth.
She swung her feet to the ground and set her book aside. She patted her hair and smoothed her skirts, a pomona-green muslin. ‘Should I change, do you think?’
‘You look lovely,’ Chrissie said with a smile. ‘You always do.’
‘Thank you.’ Before her accident, she had taken her appearance for granted. More recently, she had felt unsure. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her steps as even as possible.
The antechamber to the study was empty. Mr Brunelle, her father’s secretary, must be inside with her father, taking notes, recording agreements. Should she knock and go in, or wait for them to come out?
As she dithered, the door to the study opened. She pinned a smile on her face.
‘Lady Selina!’ The lieutenant sounded surprised.
She glanced at her father.
He frowned. ‘Did you want something, daughter?’
Blast. It seemed she wasn’t expected, or wanted, which meant they had not been discussing the betrothal after all. A feeling of relief swept through her, even as she realised they were waiting for some sort of explanation.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks as her mind raced. ‘I heard Lieutenant Dunstan was here and came to bid him welcome.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too feeble. ‘To ask him to take tea with Lady Albright and me in the drawing room.’
Dunstan’s face lit up. ‘Very kind of you, Lady Selina, I must say. I fear I cannot take advantage on this occasion. I have urgent business in the neighbourhood and came to discuss it with your father as local magistrate.’
‘Trouble?’ she asked.
‘Selina,’ her father said in a warning tone.
‘Smugglers,’ Dunstan said at exactly the same moment.
‘Oh, my goodness, are there really such villains abroad around here?’ she said with a hand to her throat and a gasp. She gave him a glance that said in her mind he was a hero.
‘Don’t worry, Lady Selina, my regiment won’t let them escape us, I can assure you. You have nothing to fear.’ The paternalistic tone made her grit her teeth. But he was only trying to soothe the feminine nerves she had put on display and there was nothing in his manner she should resent.
She fluttered her lashes. ‘I am so glad you are in charge, then.’
He bowed, took her hand and kissed it. ‘Until we meet again.’
