Master of the Highlands
Page 10

Lily wondered at their use of the word brother. It was clear that there was no way on earth the lithe blond in gold and blue silk by her side was related by blood to the commanding figure with wild hair and full Highland regalia. Even their accents were vastly different. Robert ’s accent was thick, but no worse than those of any of the men she would chat with at the pub over a dram of whisky. She found this Ewen, though, to be barely intelligible. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the burred and rounded edges of his speech was unusually stilted to her American ear. She could barely follow his extraordinarily thick brogue and would be surprised if Ewen had ever stepped foot outside of the Highlands in his life.
Lily was unsure what her approach should be. “It … it’s nice to meet—”
Ewen turned the full force of his gaze onto her and interrupted, “Once again, lass, what can you do?”
The question felt more like an accusation from the commanding Scot. Feeling vulnerable, she tried to pull the covers up tighter below her chin, even though she was already practically strangling herself with the sheet. She spied Robert out of the corner of her eye craning his neck in interest, as if he were examining some new biology specimen, and Lily thought she understood the exasperation she sensed on the part of his elder brother.
“Wh–what?” Lily cursed herself at how feeble that had sounded.
Ewen ’s voice was gruff with impatience. “Lass, I said, what can you do? If you’re going to stay, you need to make yourself useful. Do you cook?”
Lily felt a mingled sense of relief and then panic, first as she recognized that these two strange men had accepted her, and then that she was expected to stay on in their household.
“Well?”
“No. ”
“No?”
“No, I don ’t cook. ” Lily lived on burritos and pepperoni pizza. Assembling a mean ham and cheese sandwich was the extent of her culinary prowess.
The clan leader looked dumbfounded.
“Are you good with household accounts? Managing a maid staff? Sewing? Other needlework? Tending the garden? Minding the horses?”
As she shook her head in response to his litany of questions , the clan leader’s frustration was becoming quite clear.
“Well dammit, lass, what are you good for? What is it you do for your husband to help mind your home?”
Lily’s panic turned to anger. Was he planning on setting her up into indentured servitude? “I’m not married,” she snapped.
Robert finally intervened, preventing any further escalation. He took over the interrogation loudly and slowly, as if he were translating for a child. “Now”—he stumbled for the briefest of moments on her name “Lily, if the cl— an is to take you under its protection, we need to find a place for you in the Cameron household. You weren’t married, ever?” She caught the condescension in his voice.
As Lily shook her head no, the two men exchanged a brief look of disbelief. By seventeenth-century standards, Lily was certainly beyond her marrying years, but it was obvious from her pale skin, unblemished hands, and lean body that she’d never had to do a day of hard labor in her life.
“So, did your father take care of you?”
Again, she shook her head no.
“Ahhh, I understand.” Robert shared a knowing glance with Ewen as an almost childishly naughty smile lit on the corner of his mouth. “ So, you were a, shall we say, a working woman?”
Lily began to say that, yes she was a working woman, when his insinuation finally hit home. Her face reddened, and, trying desperately to keep her temper in check, she fumed,
“NO! I am most certainly not, not that! ”
Robert, his mouth pursed into a tight smile, looked at her expectantly.
“I … I work on the Internet.”
Blank stares.
“You use a net?” Robert earnestly tried to understand. “You fish for your living?”
Lily looked at him as if he were an imbecile. “You know, computers. ”
Blank stares turning into impatient blank stares.
She really had landed herself in the backwoods of Scotland. What the hell, she ’d never see these men again. “Artist. I ’m an artist. ”
“An actual artist?” Robert exclaimed. “Ah, ars longa, vita brevis. Our life, so very short, but art, art spans the ages, is that not the truth of it? An artist among us, as well as a lass. I cannot say I ’ve ever met a female with aspirations beyond that of the needle and thread.” An almost dramatically wistful expression washed over the blond’s face. “I have never been so very keen on landscapes, but a good hound portrait, now there is something to buoy a man’s spirits. ”
“Och” —Ewen shot a steely glare at his younger foster brother “pull your mind out of the clouds, boy. All that — time with your nose in a book, and you’re still damp behind the ears. ”
Ewen turned back to Lily, who had edged as far back on the bed as possible. His jaw unclenched just a little. “Don’t be afraid, lass. ” Ewen’s gaze lingered on the thin wisps of white blonde curls that framed her neck, and the pale expanse of throat visible above her covers. He abruptly shook his head. “Don’t be troubled. We ’ll find you a place.”
He sighed. “An artist, eh?”
He studied her hands, which, despite their grip on the sheets, were clearly delicate with long, graceful fingers.
“Well, I don ’t know how it is in the future, but I ’m unable to apprentice a woman to any craftsman. ”
His eyes brightened. “Are you interested in children?”
Lily found herself feeling curiously unsettled at the sound of his voice. Now that she had attuned herself to the cadences of his accent, she was mesmerized by its deep, gravelly tone.
She neither liked nor understood where this discussion was going. “They… I …well, someday I would like to have …”
“Och, no lass! You’ve some strange notions of conversation.” A smile cracked the laird’s features for a split second, and then he continued, “What I mean to say is, how do you fare with children? My son. He is a … a spirited lad. No governess has managed to tame him, much less tend him for more than six months at a stretch. ”
Lily couldn’t understand it, but she felt her heart sink at the news that this startlingly intense Scot had a wife. She shook her head to clear it—surely she was still groggy from her fall.
“Yes, I …fare well with children. ” Lily was tempted to speak what was really on her mind, namely, I won ’t be here long enough to even meet your child, sir.
“And you ’re schooled?”
She took affront that the level of her education would be called into question. “Yes. Well. ”
Ewen seemed to appreciate her indignant reaction. “Then it ’s settled, aye?” He turned to Robert. “She ’ll be John’s nanny. ”
She could’ve sworn she heard Robert mumble, “And good luck to you.”
Lily sat in the tub of hot water planning her escape. She ’d been anxious to bolt, but the maid had been in constant attendance, hovering, smiling, and nodding mutely, anxious to see to Lily’s every need.
The other woman had orchestrated a bath for her, an elaborate and maddeningly time-consuming operation involving a large copper basin, men in tattered period dress, and innumerable buckets of hot water. The moment Lily eased into the water, though, Kat had disappeared. Relishing the brief moment of privacy, she hurriedly scrubbed herself. The scalding water soothed her aching body, and Lily thought it was just the respite her injured muscles needed before she made a break for it. Tears stung her eyes to see the pastel still smudged at her fingertips, but Lily vowed to pull herself together. She would get out of there. Immediately.
She wondered if the maid was trapped there as well, but thought better of bringing Kat along with her. She could always come back with the authorities to help the poor woman.
She had no idea why these people insisted on keeping her under their roof, but she was going to have nothing of it. Lily thought perhaps she should ’ve been terrified, but she didn ’t get the sense that she was in any true physical danger from Ewen or Robert. Despite Ewen’s fearsome looks, she somehow knew that he wouldn ’t harm her in any way. Instead, a peculiar inner calm infused her, enabling her to focus on the task at hand.
She stood to dry herself with a large and not-at-all absorbent square of cloth. Lily decided she ’d dress quickly and sneak out in the bustle just before dinner. The castle ’s other occupants would likely be busy readying for supper, and it seemed like her best shot at slipping out unseen. Besides, she didn ’t know when, or if, she ’d be left alone again.
Ewen and his brother probably belonged to some sort of historical society and the last thing she wanted was to be forced into membership. Although they seemed harmless enough, this Cameron family’s insistence on their impeccably accurate historical tableau was disturbing. Looking around the room, she thought that the two brothers had spared no expense at re -creating a laird ’s castle of centuries past. Lily had to admit, the results were surprisingly accommodating. Though the thick rug on the floor and furs on the bed could use a dry cleaning, they made what would otherwise be a cold stone room feel warm and inviting.
The steaming water, such a reminder of familiar comforts, had cleared her head and soothed the last of the feverish ache from her bones. Between the long walk and her fall, Lily had gotten filthy. Though she ’d had only a small sliver of a cloyingly rose-scented soap, she felt as if she’d scrubbed away the mishaps of the day.
Lily figured she had no more than an hour. Although her hair was still damper than she would have liked for chilly night travel in the Highlands, the clothes that Kat had left for her were sturdy and thick. At that moment, however, she sure was missing good -old American fabrics. The tartan shawl that Kat had given her, though blessedly warm, was scratchy and held a smell that Lily hoped was just must.