Chapter 7
LUXBURY HAD SEARCHED the ship and had questioned several crew members.
One clever seaman coaxed a coin from him and told him he’d seen a large Scotsman hurry two peculiar passengers over the side and into a jolly boat.
Luxbury then got himself and both trunks to shore, hired a wagon to send the trunks to Beldorney Hall and rented himself a saddle horse to go in search of the women.
Lord Edgeworth will have my commission rescinded should he find out of my … misplacement … of Eleanor, he thought to himself.
He rode for half the night, searching, with no success.
In the small town of Killearn he found a place to shelter the horse and himself.
Early the next morning he asked for directions to Beldorney Hall.
Surely, he prayed, the clever young women would continue to Beldorney.
They had, after all, managed to get to the wharf when they thought he hadn’t survived the attack of the highwaymen.
Perhaps they believed he’d been incarcerated by the Scots, that the inspectors had discovered his duplicitous terms of passage: paying the skipper directly and not dealing with the purser as he should have.
That must be it.
I’ll find them at the castle.
Safe and sound.
He urged the lazy nag onward and considered what he might do and the lies he’d have to invent if he was wrong and the women were … lost … kidnapped … or worse.
***
LITTLE HUEY CHATTERED through breakfast and his uncles devoted all their attention to the lad, while El and Pascoe, so called while they were wearing breeches, ate their mush without a word.
Fenella fluttered about the table, happy for the warmth of family and dreading the moment when she’d be alone with her son and her chores, for Hubert announced he would go along to guide them to a place closer to the castle gates.
“Och, we’ll be off now,”
Keir suddenly announced.
“Grab the sack with the dresses, lad,”
he motioned to Hannah, “and ye can ride wi’ me.”
Warm, honeyed sunlight beamed down on their heads as the men saddled up, but it was still chilly out.
Fenella stood between Eleanor and Hannah and whispered last minute encouragement.
When Keir was ready first, Fenella pushed Eleanor toward his horse.
“Ye’ll be better weighted,”
she called out to Keir, “if ye ride with El and let Pascoe sit behind yer brother.”
She saw the flash of emotion cross Keir’s face and read it for what it was, but she was enjoying her bit of matchmaking.
She wished she could be there when they donned their dresses again.
She’d love to see her brother squirm uncomfortably.
How long before he’d figure out the truth?
***
ELEANOR APPROACHED THE horse’s head and spoke softly to the gelding.
She rubbed the spot between his eyes and said, “Hello, Copper, I won’t add much burden to your back—”
“Talk to horses, dae ye?”
Keir interrupted.
He stuck a foot in the stirrup and mounted the horse.
Eleanor scrunched her face into a scowl.
“I’ve worked in a stable since I was … as long as I can remember.
Not talking to a new horse before jumping on its back is just plain stupid.”
She ran her hand down Copper’s neck and moved next to Keir’s left leg.
He kicked his foot free of the stirrup so she could use it.
“Here, gi’ me yer hand.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Not takin’ me hand is …”
he smirked, releasing a hidden dimple, “just plain stupid.”
She put her foot into the stirrup, clasped his hand, and pushed off the ground.
It was one smooth motion to come up and onto the horse’s hindquarters.
Keir let go of her hand without another retort.
She kicked her foot free of the stirrup and put both hands on the saddle’s cantle.
She spoke to his back.
“Thank you.”
She immediately wished she’d grunted the words as a stubborn boy would have, or not said anything at all.
Her hand still tingled from his touch and now, with a mere two inches of space between them, she could feel his heat, smell him, sense his masculinity.
And here she was, legs spread out behind him, heart pounding, perspiration beading up.
Her mouth went dry.
She glanced over at Hannah who was climbing up behind Logan a bit more slowly and awkwardly, one hand grappling with the clothing sack.
No doubt Hannah was equally disturbed to sit in such an arousing manner behind a handsome young man.
Copper moved forward suddenly and though Eleanor had ridden bareback numerous times, she had a sudden fear of falling backwards.
She clutched at Keir and gripped him around his chest.
“Hold tight, lad.”
Keir slapped the reins and they cantered off, Hubert next, then Logan with Hannah.
They rode fast and Eleanor relaxed into the rhythm and even rested her cheek against his back.
The short ponytail she’d made of her hair beat against her neck.
She watched the countryside bounce past, yellow wildflowers boldly jutting out of the soil between the road and the forest, and then, when she lifted her head to press the other cheek against Keir’s back, she caught a glimpse of dramatic mountains to the north.
A moment later they were slowing down to trot through the moorlands.
They slowed even more when they came to a loch.
Keir reined his horse in and allowed it to stretch its neck to the water and slurp a long drink.
The others did the same.
Eleanor unwrapped her arms from the Highlander and made eye contact with Hannah.
Hubert spoke.
“’Twas a nice bit of plantin’ ye did fer us, Keir.
If I didn’t thank ye afore, I thank ye now.”
“’Twas me pleasure to be of service.
Did yer business go as ye’d hoped?”
“Aye.
’Twas most profitable.
And … I assume ye got me message?”
“Aye, yer code was easily solved.”
“And yet here ye are.”
Eleanor felt Keir tense up despite the fact she was no longer touching him.
The horse also reacted and backed away from the water.
“Aye, here I am.”
“And wi’ two English lads instead of the two Scots I paid fer.”
Keir cleared his throat.
He twisted in his saddle and peered down at Eleanor.
“Who’d ye say sent ye, lad?”
“S-S-Sylvan.”
Hubert frowned.
“’Twas Horace Sylvan, indeed.
I met the Scots and paid the price.
I wonder what became of those lads.”
“Perhaps jailed by the bloody English.”
Hubert looked squarely at Eleanor.
“Lad, dae ye ken the plan? Are ye brave enough to play the part and slit a throat if the need arises?”
***
KEIR HAD LOOKED down at the small hands clasped around his chest as he’d galloped away from Fenella’s home.
He was embarrassed by how he felt.
There was pleasure in being held by this lad, but it was laden with guilt and a trace of revulsion.
He knew what the matter was.
He’d seen this creature in a dress and had been horribly deceived, as if some spell was cast and now he couldn’t think clearly.
These wretched English boys … and soon he’d have to face an equally wretched Englishwoman and pretend to install El and Pascoe as her steadfast, dependable servants.
Female servants, at that. Was this an abomination? Had he forgotten his clan vows? Perhaps he should concentrate on Anabel MacLeod. She was beautiful, if not an agreeable or pleasant woman. He would beg his sisters to influence her, mold her into a more congenial companion.
The hands no longer grasped him.
Copper had his head down, drinking his fill.
Hubert was speaking to him.
He answered.
They went back and forth and Keir had to concentrate to keep his attention on what Hubert was suggesting.
When Hubert asked the lad behind him a question, he felt the lad’s body stiffen.
He twisted to ask El a question.
The answer was correct.
“Sylvan,” she said.
Hubert asked her another question and she outlined the plan as she had before.
She? He was thinking of this lad in feminine terms.
His mind was certainly muddled.
Hubert asked about slitting throats and the lad answered with conviction.
He was shifting position behind him.
He was slipping back over Copper’s rump to jump to the ground.
No lassie would ever do something so impolite.
Keir breathed more normally once the lad was no longer so close.
Keir watched him and Pascoe walk off toward some trees, no doubt to relieve themselves.
He patted Copper’s neck and looked over at Hubert.
“What’s got ye flummoxed, Keir? Are ye havin’ second thoughts aboot helpin’ in the cause?”
“Nay.”
He forced his focus on Hubert’s question.
“Ye ken I haven’t killt a man, but Thomas is willin’.
We’ll leave it to him.”
“’Twon’t be a man, Keir.
’Tis a lass that they’re sendin’, a Hanover issue, certainly a bastard child.”
“Child?”
“Woman, I mean, but nae doubt childish in her ways if she needs to be taught manners and skills at Beldorney.”
“Aye.”
Keir cocked his head.
“Ye’ll nay be makin’ amends wi’ yer family, if they learn how ye’re conspirin’ wi’ the English.”
“Politics be a complicated subject, but killin’ a usurper is preferable to killin’ the king.”
“I’m havin’ second thoughts aboot any killin’.
Perhaps a kidnappin’ and passage to the colonies would be a better plan.”
Hubert laughed.
“And ye’d be the volunteer to take her, would ye? And miss yer weddin’ to Anabel MacLeod? I ken all aboot that.
Logan told me.”
He nodded toward the brother who’d dismounted and was splashing a handful of water on his face.
Keir perked his brows up.
“I hadn’t thought that far aheid, but I thank ye fer the solution.
Anabel’s humours are not in balance, ye ken.
She’s an irascible lass, one I’ll nae be tied to.
A long voyage could be in me future.”
He started to laugh, caught sight of the two English lads returning, and swallowed hard.
He was unable to avoid noticing how graceful and smooth her, no his, short strides seemed.
***
“YOU’RE IN LOVE,”
Hannah hissed the whisper at Eleanor.
She pulled up her breeches and grinned at Eleanor.
“Your face … when we were riding down the hill … the look of ecstasy you had … you are most certainly enamored of the young laird.”
“I am no more in love with a McKelvey than you are.”
Eleanor huffed, tightened the string in her ponytail and made sure her shirt was loose over her bound chest.
“Ah,”
Hannah teased, “so it’s true then.
Because I could keep my arms around Logan McKelvey’s chest for the rest of my life, be it long or short.”
“In love? You think you’re in love?”
Eleanor scoffed.
“We haven’t time for such nonsense.
We must play our parts, deceive them, and then dissuade them of their plans to marry me off to the King and then borrow or steal enough money to go in search of my mother.”
Hannah frowned.
“So … you’ve been thinking through strategies … like your war game campaigns.
And when you were clutching that Highlander with your face pressed against his strong, muscular back and your eyes firmly closed, a smile on your face and the glow of love rimming your features … you were devising solutions to our predicament? I don’t believe you, El.”
Eleanor brushed imaginary dirt from her clothing and peeked around the bushes.
“We better get back.”
They lengthened their strides and put scowls on their faces as the three men watched them walk back.
Logan shouted something about male genitals that should have made them blush, but they’d heard worse around the stable and Hannah hollered back the expected bawdy reply.
Eleanor came up to Copper’s head and stroked his face, felt the soft muzzle, and spoke a calming word.
She relaxed the scowl, but forced its return when she looked up at Keir.
He was watching her with a scowl of his own.
She tapped his leg and held the stirrup.
He slipped his foot out and she stuck her foot in, reached her hand up and they repeated the mounting with an even smoother action than before.
“We’ll be walkin’ the rest of the way, through the woods.
Ye dinnae need to squeeze the life from me ribs.”
Keir stuck his foot back in the stirrup.
“Are ye set, Englishman?”
Eleanor smiled at his back.
“All set.”
In love? Hmm.
She thought about Cameron—she liked him—and the Chaddertons and the Miller boys—they were bearable—and then she thought about love.
She loved her old horse, Brownie.
She loved Hannah.
She loved Cook.
She loved a sunny day and she had great affection for Lady Beth.
Lord Edgeworth was … tolerable. She felt indifference toward Captain Luxbury.
But what were these feelings she had toward Keir? Logan and Hubert and Thomas, all strange, new male acquaintances, did not elicit the reaction she had whenever Keir was near, or when he spoke, or when she thought about him.
Her heart was pounding even now, those new fluttering tickles spreading through her chest and fanning outward to all her parts … why? What was it about Keir McKelvey? He’d been kind, but aloof.
He didn’t seem to approve much of the English.
He merely tolerated her.
And yet … there was something in the flash of his eyes when he did look at her.
Something invisible.
Copper plodded on.
The path narrowed and they had the lead.
She decided to speak to Keir.
“How much farther?”
“Och, lad, are ye needin’ to piss agin?”
“No, I thought … I thought we needed to put on the dresses soon.”
“Ye will as soon as we get to the bothan where Thomas is.
Not much farther.”
She had a sudden thought that made her shiver.
They would be expected to disrobe and redress in front of the others.
How would they hide their secret identities then? A bothan wasn’t particularly large; she knew it was a small shelter for any traveler to use, unmolested.
She had to think of a reason to keep the men out while they changed.
What could she say?
Keir cleared his throat.
“Ye’ll surprise ole Thomas, ye will, when ye present yerselves in dresses and bonnets.
We’ll keep him outside the bothy till ye’re ready.
Might uncross his eyes.”
He laughed and Eleanor’s heart caught up in her throat.
She smiled at his back again.
***
“ZOUNDS!”
THOMAS CRIED out when Eleanor and Hannah stepped out of the bothan.
“What’d ye put in the front to give yerselves such womanly mounds?”
His crossed eyes appeared to be gazing at both girls’ chests at the same time.
Left eye to the right and right to the left.
He reached as if to pull down the front of Hannah’s bodice.
Hannah clutched her dress at her bosom and turned aside.
“You must treat us as the ladies we pretend to be.
Would you touch a maiden so boldly? Oh … my!”
She feigned the cry a trifle too dramatically and in doing so strengthened the notion that she was a male who was play-acting.
Eleanor was more emphatic and uncharacteristically coarse.
She put both her hands on her breasts and jiggled them.
“A bit of lamb’s wool from Fenella is all, but keep your distance, gentlemen.”
She stressed the last word.
“Remember, she is Mistress Hannah and I am Eleanor.”
She eyed Keir, who looked quickly down, and then she scanned the other three men, who were all smiles and Scottish grunts.
“Oh, Lady Eleanor,”
Hannah raised her voice to a falsetto, “whatever shall we do? Our trunks of clothing and jewels are gone.
Our chaperone has left us to the mercy of strangers.
If it wasn’t for the charity of these fine Scottish Highlanders, I don’t know where we’d be.”
She fluttered an imaginary fan at her throat.
Thomas cackled.
“Ye’d be workin’ in a hoor-hoose, ye would.”
Eleanor couldn’t control the red blush that warmed her neck and then her cheeks.
“All right,”
Keir stopped the folly, “we need to get them to the Hall.
I was thinkin’ we could lift them up onto the saddles, sideways a’course.”
He looked at Eleanor who was tucking a stray lock up under her bonnet.
“Dae ye think ye can mount and twist yerself to sit so?”
“Step aside, Mr.
McKelvey.”
Eleanor reached her left hand up to the saddle and lifted her skirts to allow her foot into the stirrup.
With one quick push off the ground with her right foot, she pulled herself up onto the saddle, bringing her right leg through the space between saddle and left leg.
“Will you be riding behind me this time, or walking?”
“’Twill be more appropriate to walk … as yer rescuers.
I’ll lead ole Copper.”
He took the reins and nodded at Hannah.
“Yer turn, lad.”
Hannah huffed and went through the same simple mounting quite expertly.
She had readied Lady Beth’s side saddle for her many times and had learned the trick.
“Well dain, lad,”
Logan praised her.
Hannah leaned forward and stroked the horse’s neck as Logan took the reins.
“Thomas,”
Keir said, “ye go ahead and watch for that redcoat.
Hubert, dae ye think ye should be seen wi’ us?”
“I’ll keep back, once I show ye the short way to the gate.”
Eleanor and Hannah gave each other secret smiles, comfortable atop the horses and almost as comfortable in dresses and bonnets.
The small group was ready to start off.
Thomas galloped ahead, but Hubert walked his horse, turning his head often to speak on family topics or to tease Logan and Keir.
The girls learned of Logan’s race to win his horse, Keir’s unselfish help on Hubert’s farm, and Hubert’s great pride in his son.
Keir described how he’d tried to teach Huey about swords and hatchets.
And Logan told Hubert about Keir’s loss of temper when he found out their father had arranged for him to marry Anabel MacLeod.
“Wheesht.
Ye’ll not speak o’ me temper as if I didn’t deserve to express it.”
Keir made several gutteral sounds.
A storm loomed on his brows, pushing warning wrinkles around his eyes, but he controlled his ire.
“Ye ken I’m the rational one, not given to bouts o’ anger.”
“That ye are, brother,”
Logan agreed.
“And I aim ta shadow ye and learn ta control me humours.”
“The gate’s right aheid,”
Hubert said, stopping his horse.
“There’s no guard.
The lads can walk in.”
His horse turned in circles and he spoke while continually twisting his head to see the others.
“We can give’em a while to beg for help … for work.
I’m sure me mum will employ them, especially if this Hanover heir … or bastard … has arrived.”
Keir looked up at Eleanor.
“Be sure to tell them it ’twere the McKelvey brothers what rescued ye, so we’ll be received more readily when we come ta check on ye in a day or two.”
“You’re checking on us?”
Eleanor kicked her foot free of the stirrup, intending to jump down, but then realizing her dress might tear in the effort.
Keir reached up and grabbed her around the waist.
Their eyes met as she put her hands on his shoulders and he gently brought her down to stand before him.
He was a tad slow in releasing her waist and she was equally hesitant to take her hands off him.
Then both realized their mistakes.
Keir coughed and Eleanor stuttered her thanks.
“Ye’re welcome.
And aye, we’ll be visitin’ the Beldorneys, perhaps wi’ Hubert and Huey.
He’s been takin’ the lad there for a year now.
He doesna tell me sister.
There’s more patchwork ta do ta get her forgiveness.
’Tis a longer story.”
Keir wiped his brow.
“Will we meet secretly, do you think?”
Eleanor used the moment to study his face, memorize the laugh lines around his bright green eyes, the straightness of his nose, and the shape of his lips.
Oh … she needed a handkerchief to wipe her own brow.
She wished … she wished she could tell him who she really was.
Would he still want to kill the Hanover heir?
“Aye.
If I can, I’ll pass ye a note.
There’ll likely be a servant I can bribe.”
“All right then.”
Eleanor hesitated, then gathered up her skirts to walk between Keir and Hannah.
Logan followed and Hubert stayed back out of sight.
“Hullo!”
Keir began calling as they passed the gate and neared the estate.
This wasn’t the main entrance and they were approaching the mansion from its garden side.
The stone structure stood proudly under a dapple-grey sky, stalwart, catching the sun’s rays, stones gleaming as if covered with flecks of diamond dust.
Eleanor assessed the size and manor of construction.
It was nearly equal to Ingledew in height and stateliness, but the grounds were better kept, and the outbuildings numerous.
She could smell the stables.
A true lady would have thought they soiled the air with an unpleasant scent, but Eleanor breathed it in deeply.
She noticed a servant girl leading a swaybacked nag to the watering trough and she wondered why the Beldorneys would keep such a worn-out mount.
“Take me arm,”
Keir said, interrupting her thoughts.
She slipped her hand through his, remembering her part as an unfortunate female attacked and bereft of clothing and valuables.
She clutched unconsciously at his sleeve, wanting to blurt the truth, but afraid of how he might react.
Hannah, next to her, stopped to wait for Logan, and took hold of his arm as well.
She heaved a little sigh that was almost undetectable.
“Shall we say we’re late of some castle in the best lands of England? I know the names of three or four.
Let’s say we were sent from … oh, I don’t know … perhaps Ingledew.
Would the Beldorneys have heard of it?”
Hannah asked.
Keir breathed out heavily.
“Ye are ready wi’ yer lies, I think.
Och, say whatever needs be said.
Only one o’ ye do the talkin’.”