Chapter 7 #2
She’d excelled at them all, just as she had at riding. She’d heard a rumour that Jordan had a sweetheart, one of the housemaids in fact. Was his kiss as memorable as Ethan MacKinnon’s? she wondered before banishing the memory, angry that he’d tricked her.
Jordan caught her staring at him. He said nothing but remained perfectly still, returning her look with such intensity that she felt her face warming.
‘You’ve no right to look at me like that,’ she said hotly, turning her head so he wouldn’t see her rosy-pink cheeks.
‘I could say the same.’
His tone was even but far from reverential.
She wanted to make a sharp retort that would leave him in no doubt that he’d been put in his place. Somehow the words just wouldn’t come.
Only when she became aware that he’d turned his back on her did she turn her head.
Like his hair, his shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his body. She could see the long indent of his spine, the curves of his shoulder blades, the muscles flexing and falling as he lifted a crate of young birds, placing them in the shade before turning it onto its side and opening the lid.
Unused to freedom, the birds moved hesitantly, pecking and chirping their way into the undergrowth.
Fists resting on his hips, Jordan watched them with narrowed eyes. ‘Go on, me little beauties,’ he said softly. ‘Make the most of your freedom before the guns and the dogs get you.’
Lochranza got up from her perch and stood at his side.
‘A fox might get them before a dog or the guns.’
‘Might.’ He didn’t sound convinced, but Lochranza couldn’t tell for sure because he kept his face averted.
She stood as though she had no intention of moving until he’d replied. After giving it some consideration – besides resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t go until he’d responded in the affirmative – Jordan responded.
‘Young Josiah Wainwright you say?’
‘I didn’t say. There was no need. You already know the circumstances. I merely asked if you could do with some help with the fledglings. Do you need help?’
‘Leave it with me. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.’
The air in the shady glade grew heavier. His face shone with sweat as he took the kerchief stuffed into his belt and wiped it across his face.
He eyed her sidelong. She read that look. He wanted to keep her guessing; assert how important he was in this matter.
‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?’ Her tone was equally assertive.
‘The boy would be a good help – ’specially at this time of year.’
‘I’ll get word to his mother.’
‘No need to put yerself out. I’ll go round there myself.’
‘Then that’s settled!’
Shaking his head, Jordan wiped the sweat from the nape of his neck. He looked amused.
Was he making fun of her?
‘Have I said something funny?’
‘No. Not exactly. I was just pitying the huntsman who tries to trap you in a crate, or the man who tries to keep you within four walls.’
* * *
Ethan MacKinnon watched silently. He found the sight of a beautiful, titled woman sitting so at ease with a common gamekeeper both alien and alarming.
Up until that moment, he had considered Lord Kildare’s suggestion with amusement.
Many marriages were made by parents or guardians of young men and women and over the heads of the people involved, especially the women involved.
In this case, he sensed there was a very serious reason for suggesting the match, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
Unwilling to alienate Lochranza’s uncle, he’d reserved comment on the suggestion.
Although marriages arranged to secure family wealth and property were as prevalent in the virgin states of America as they were in the old country, he was a man averse to having anything arranged for him.
It smacked of somebody else being in control of his life, a matter he regarded as belonging to him and him alone.
That’s what the War of Independence had been all about; not being dictated to by outside forces.
Although not an emotional man, he had been smitten from the start.
She’d stood out among the lesser-hued fluttering doves of her generation, their dresses as pinkly pale as their faces.
The sea-green dress had lent vibrancy to her body.
A wide band of matching ribbon had been threaded through hair as glorious as any naked Titian beauty.
In truth, she’d appeared like a bird of paradise among a flock of wood pigeons!
It should have ended there, but he was a man of due diligence, in the habit of acquiring knowledge in the shady world that coexisted with international diplomacy. As an adjunct to his profession, he was careful who he trusted and Lady Kildare was no exception.
He’d followed her and her servants, noted her kind attention to the woman at the cottage and then heard her soliciting the gamekeeper to give a young lad a job.
Those things in themselves had raised admiration in his chest. What had come afterwards had stirred him further.
She was no shrinking violet, that was for sure.
The way she’d looked at the gamekeeper… what had she called him?
Jordan? Such a bold look; openly admiring the man’s well-muscled body, the slickness of sweat sticking the shirt to the man’s broad back making it possible.
Why was he so affected? Was it jealousy?
Of course not! I barely know the girl or the circumstances of either her background or her life here. I have not met her before. She is nothing to me.
But there is nothing to stop you from finding out.
Though not from Lord Kildare, Duke of Sudeley.
Jealousy, an alien emotion he couldn’t remember ever feeling before, crept around his chest like discomfort following a heavy supper.
Ridiculous as it was, he resented her being alone in the company of a man with animal magnetism and not a penny to his name.
She was a lady, for God’s sake! A titled lady and therefore sought after by every young man with a title and a name to live up to.
Still the discomfort refused to subside.
It was not in his nature to rush to her side and proclaim undying love.
He was not a man to air his emotions so audibly.
In his estimation, a lifetime relationship should be founded on more than emotion.
In fact, he didn’t entirely disagree with one title being united in matrimony with another.
However, before he could possibly consider union with this girl, he wanted her to admire him.
One kiss was not enough, though he smiled when he thought of it.
For a moment, he held his breath. It came to him as something of a surprise to find himself taking his lordship’s proposal so seriously.
To have her as a wife would cause a few difficulties, not least in his North American home where memories regarding the war cutting America from the motherland were still raw.
Surely they could work at it. The ties of blood and similarity of culture were still strong. There were ways around everything.
By the time he got back to Cleveland Court, his mind was made up. A wife such as Lochranza Kildare could be a definite asset. He would agree to the proposal. What Lochranza’s response might be did not cross his mind.
He found Lord Kildare where he always was, surrounded by books and stuffed birds in glass cases, little flocks of them, brightly coloured and stiff with death beneath glass domes.
‘What can you tell me about her?’
Alexander Kildare waved at a seat, bidding Ethan sit down. He wasn’t exactly showing his approval, but he was very pleased. ‘She’s an orphan. My niece. Though you already know she’s my niece. How silly of me. Must be getting old.’
Ethan eyed him as a naturalist might one of the stuffed birds. ‘I doubt you’ve ever done a silly thing in your life.’
‘Her mother died in childbirth,’ said Lord Kildare, as though he hadn’t heard Ethan’s response. ‘My brother died in a riding accident some years ago.’
‘I’m sorry. A terrible tragedy for the girl.’
‘Yes. It was.’
He didn’t sound that perturbed. Ethan had found someone less emotional than himself!
It didn’t happen that often. Yet Alexander Kildare wasn’t always so abrupt.
Ethan suspected his curtness was either from heartfelt regret or because he did not wish to be drawn on the subject.
He was intrigued no matter which applied.
In case he betrays hidden truths he prefers to keep hidden.
Ethan refrained from voicing his suspicion.
‘As you know, Alexander, I myself was considered the black sheep of the family. If my father hadn’t died when he did, I might be penniless.’
Lord Kildare shook his head and looked at his guest in the manner of one who can see the character just by fixing on a man’s eyes. ‘I don’t think so, Ethan. You would merely have arrived in America a lot earlier than you did and by now probably be on your way to being the next president.’
Ethan smiled. ‘You know me very well.’
Lord Kildare nodded. ‘You’ve studied her, I take it.’
Ethan’s smile broadened. ‘Very well…’ he said, nodding his head.
He had told no one that he’d followed the lovely creature, watching with pleasant surprise how kind she was.
He’d also become quickly aware that passion as well as kindness lurked beneath that made her very interesting indeed. ‘I rise to the challenge.’