Chapter 19
Scotland had welcomed them with sunny skies for the past two days, but by afternoon, the scuttling clouds changed their nature, turning dark. Even the air felt different, heavy and filled with moisture.
“It looks like we’re in for a downpour,” Douglas said, studying the clouds. Through the hatch in the roof, he signaled for Tim to stop and pull the coach over to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked, the first comment she’d directed to him since their meal.
He glanced at her. “We need to make arrangements. The loose gravel and dirt on the roads could easily turn to mud. In a few minutes, the carriage could become mired in it.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“It all depends on what nature has in store for us,” he said.
But beyond that cryptic remark, he didn’t explain.
She glanced at Florie. Her maid didn’t like storms, and her growing discomfort would have been evident even to a stranger.
Sarah reached over and patted her arm.
“I’m sure it’s going to be fine, Florie. Tim is an excellent driver, and Mr. Eston seems to have a level head on his shoulders.”
There, did she sound suitably wifely? Her own voice was calm, devoid of any anxiety whatsoever. But then, she’d had years to practice her skills at prevarication. If she was afraid, she doubted anyone in the carriage could have discerned it.
She opened the door and peeked her head out to see Tim and Douglas standing by the horses in earnest conversation. Were they making decisions about their safety and yet not involving them?
She closed the door and sat back on the seat.
“Sometimes men are very difficult,” she said, a comment she should not have made under any circumstances.
Florie, bless her tactful heart, pretended she hadn’t spoken.
“Do you think there’s an inn nearby, Lady Sarah?” Florie asked a few minutes later.
“I sincerely hope not,” Sarah said. “I had planned on reaching Kilmarin today. I am not willing to spend another night at an inn.”
Douglas entered the carriage again, turned to Florie, and spoke to her first. “Tim says that you mustn’t worry. We’ll find shelter before the storm hits.”
Florie’s complexion was as pale as plaster, but she forced a smile to her face as she nodded. “Thank you, sir. I worry about my Tim, too.”
“As well you should,” Douglas said, which earned him a frown from Sarah. The last thing he should do was commiserate with Florie; it would make her hysterical. But he continued on, oblivious to Sarah’s censorious look. “It’s the lightning we have to fear.”
Finally, he turned to her. “We’re not far from the main road,” he said. “We’re going to go ahead and meet up with it.”
“Will we find an inn, sir?” Florie asked.
“We’ll reach Kilmarin first,” Douglas said.
They exchanged a long look, and she recognized that expression in his eyes. He was more than willing to be as implacable as a brick wall if it meant obtaining what he wanted. How very strange that she’d not recognized his stubbornness before they left Chavensworth.
He began to smile, a thoroughly charming smile if one didn’t notice the wickedness of it.
His eyes, too, gave away his thoughts, and she was certain that if Florie weren’t here, he would have begun to laugh.
Or perhaps something even worse, like scoop her up from the seat, put her on his lap, and proceed to nuzzle at her breasts.
That was not a thought she should have. She reached into the convenience pocket of the carriage, withdrew a blank note card, and began to fan herself. When his smile looked to have no sign of abating, she frowned at him.
“Mr. Eston,” she said. Just that, just his name, and it made his smile even broader.
“Stop it,” she said, her teeth clenched.
“I am doing nothing, Lady Sarah,” he said, still smiling. “Other than thinking first and foremost of your safety.”
She couldn’t dispute that remark although she wanted to find something to criticize. At least, openly. Heaven knew she had enough knowledge of his private behavior, but publicly he behaved like a perfect gentleman.
Not unlike those knights her mother had told her about, always concerned about their ladyloves.
But those knights had sent flowers and composed poetry, and planted gardens.
She doubted one of those knights would have whispered decadent suggestions in his lady’s ear, nor teased her with fingers, lips, and wildly improvident words.
She looked away, concentrating on the scenery through the carriage window.
Within moments, the air darkened, the grass rippled with the increasing wind, and Florie moved closer to her.
Sarah glanced at her maid and smiled reassuringly, then looked back through the window, ignoring Douglas. Not that it was easy.
The explosive crack of thunder made her jump. Florie grabbed her arm and let out a little squeal. Sarah looked across the carriage at Douglas, and he smiled reassuringly. Without speaking a word, he held out his hand, and she took it, the three of them now linked by a touch.
“If we can’t find shelter soon,” Sarah said, “I think we should stop and let Tim join us. It can’t be safe for him out there.”
Douglas nodded.
“Who is Alano?”
He frowned. “You’ve met Alano.”
“Yes, but who is he?”
“Why are you asking now?”
The carriage was beginning to be buffeted by the wind, and she could hear Tim yelling encouragement to the horses.
“Are horses frightened by the elements?” she asked.
“I would imagine that all animals have an instinctive need to feel safe. Anything different might be perceived as being frightening.”
She nodded, distracted by another crash of thunder.
“Do you really care about Alano, or is that your way of avoiding the storm?”
“I am not afraid of storms,” she said. “I deal quite well with any natural occurrence.” She frowned at him intently.
“Do you?”
The horses whinnied, and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Florie was holding on to her arm with a talonlike grip.
“I met Alano in France. I was fourteen at the time. He rescued me from a situation I couldn’t hope to escape on my own.” His glance seemed to encompass the past. “He became a mentor to a very angry young man. Now he’s my second-in-command, if you will.”
“Like a majordomo?”
“More a friend,” he said.
Thunder shook the carriage, followed instantaneously by the flash of lightning. Florie screamed, then immediately clamped both hands over her mouth. If Sarah hadn’t been discomfited by the storm before, she was now.
Douglas squeezed her hand reassuringly, his attention on the landscape.
“It’s not long now,” he said, pointing with his free hand. “That’s our destination.”
She peered through the rain. “We’re at Kilmarin?”
“We are,” he said.
Sarah was not given to listening to portents or believing in omens.
However, there was something about the stormy afternoon that scratched at her nerves.
The rain fell in sheets, threatening to wash the carriage away as it climbed the hill leading to Kilmarin.
She could hear Tim shouting to the horses.
The carriage trembled in the force of the wind as Sarah tried to ease Florie’s fears while appearing outwardly calm herself.
A quarter hour passed—a bad quarter hour in which Sarah was certain they were going to be washed away.
Florie was still given to excited outbursts every few minutes, and Douglas glanced over at Sarah often enough with a concerned look in his eyes to let her know that she hadn’t been quite successful at hiding her own anxiety.
“We’ll be there in no time at all,” he said.
She only nodded.
Through the rain-sheened window, she couldn’t see much of Kilmarin. What she could see amazed her. Had Douglas felt the same upon viewing Chavensworth?
She’d always considered Chavensworth a magnificent estate, almost preening when people mentioned it in London gatherings. But from the glimpse of her mother’s childhood home, she was quite certain that Chavensworth was much smaller in size.
The road on which they were traveling seem to wind around the mountain. When she mentioned as much to Douglas, he only nodded. Some moments later, he spoke.
“I imagine it was constructed that way for defense,” he said. “Remember, Kilmarin was built seven hundred years ago.”
“Chavensworth is quite old as well,” she said, feeling an absurd desire need to defend her own home.
He only smiled faintly, his attention on the road.
She preferred to ignore their upward climb, as well as the fact that the higher they traveled, the narrower the road seemed.
Another way of Kilmarin defending itself?
At least she faced the side of the mountain, and not the cliff.
She wasn’t exceptionally fond of heights, especially in a storm of this magnitude.
A gust of wind pushed eagerly against the carriage, and the vehicle shivered in response. Perhaps they would be thrown off the road entirely, to plunge down the side of the mountain. Her compassionate errand would end in the deaths of four people.
She closed her eyes, patting Florie’s hand reassuringly even as she wished her maid would simply hush.
A bolt of lightning struck too close for comfort, and her eyes flew open to meet Douglas’s gaze.
“We are there,” he said softly.
She knew, without a doubt, that if Florie had not been there, he would have taken her into his arms and held her there as he had so many nights after her mother died.
The road abruptly leveled so they were no longer climbing uphill. Instead, it seemed as if they had come to an entrance of sorts, the shadows in front of them becoming an iron gate.
“Just how many defenses does Kilmarin need?”
“You’re talking about a country that has its share of ruined castles,” he said. “Evidently, Kilmarin has just the right number of defenses.”
She heard Tim shouting again, but this time his directions weren’t for the horses. The carriage slowed and stopped. Despite the fact that it was still raining hard, Douglas opened the door.
“Where are you going?”