Chapter 10
October 4, 1879 Glenclaren
ane hurriedly straightened away from the wall as Margaret came out of Ian’s chamber. “How is he?”
“Stubborn.” Margaret moved brusquely down the hall toward the staircase. “He won’t hear of going to Spain for the winter. I can do nothing with the man.”
That statement certainly underscored the seriousness of the situation, Jane thought. Margaret seldom admitted defeat in any area. “You’ve had the physician speak to him again?”
“This morning,” Margaret said tersely. “Ian says Glenclaren needs him now and he will go to Spain in the spring.” Her hand momentarily clenched on the banister before she started down the steps. “I told the idiot he will make me a widow before spring if he does not rid himself of that cough, and he cannot do it here. Glenclaren’s winters are too harsh.”
Jane had witnessed the harshness of those winters for the past three years and felt the same apprehension as Margaret. “Perhaps he will change his mind.”
“He hasn’t changed it in three months. He keeps talking about Glenclaren and what he has to do this winter. He will die here.”
“Keep at him,” Jane said. “He was so excited about-the plans for the new dam.”
“A man needs to feel a sense of worth. I knew it was the only way to get him to come alive again.” Margaret grimaced. “But after telling him for three years that Glenclaren can’t get along without him, how do I convince him he should go off and bask in the sun?”
“Is that why you sent for me? I’ve already told him the mill is doing well. It’s practically running itself now.” Jane frowned anxiously. “But I suppose I could talk to him again.”
“He won’t listen to you either. It’s just as well I saw this coming and took measures.”
“What measures?”
“Ruel.”
Jane stopped in midmotion on the steps.
Margaret cast her a shrewd glance. “You’ve gone pale as the flour in the bins at your precious mill. Does even the thought of him jar you?”
Jane resumed going down the stairs. “Of course not. If I seem pale, it must be because the hall is dim and the light is fading.”
“It’s only midafternoon and the light is strong.”
“Why should it bother me if you talk of Ruel?”
“For the same reason you haven’t mentioned the scamp’s name since the first day you arrived here.” Margaret wearily shook her head. “It’s none of my concern how Ruel has managed to alienate you. I’m aware he has a splendid facility in that direction. If you don’t wish to tell me, I can—”
“I do not speak of it because it’s not important,” Jane interrupted. “It’s all in the past.”
“The past sometimes has a bearing on the future.” Margaret took her blue wool shawl from the clothes tree beside the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “That’s why I thought I should give you warning.”
“That you’ve written to Ruel about Ian?”
Margaret shook her head. “I wrote to Ruel three months ago when Ian first refused to winter in Madrid. I received word this morning from Edinburgh that Ruel should arrive in Glenclaren tomorrow.”
Shock took Jane’s breath. “He’s coming here?”
“I knew I couldn’t pry Ian away on my own this time and Ruel’s always managed to get his way with him.”
Ruel always managed to get his way with everyone, Jane thought. “What about Cinnidar?”
“Ruel’s character must have improved considerably since I last saw him. It appears he thinks his brother’s life is more important than digging gold.” Margaret opened the front door. “So you must put aside any quarrel you may have with Ruel until he manages to persuade Ian he must go to Spain. After that, you may flay him as you see fit.”
“Thank you.” Jane forced a smile. “But I doubt if I’ll see much of him while he’s here. Li Sung and I will be too busy at the mill to come to the castle.”
“I thought you said the mill was running itself?” Then Margaret shrugged. “Very well, if you wish to hide at the mill, I have no objection.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m merely—”
“Avoiding him.” Margaret stopped beside the hitching rail where Bedelia was tied. “I doubt he will let you. He inquires very pointedly about your doings in every letter.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “You never told me.”
“There was no need to discuss him if you did not wish it. However, he had a right to ask questions about Glenclaren and its inhabitants, since he was paying the piper.” She glanced around the newly paved courtyard and then to the repaired and rebuilt outbuildings. “And he’s paid him very well, indeed. The money he’s been sending has kept Glenclaren alive and thriving and that means Ian has thrived.” She turned back to Jane. “You’re going back to the mill now?”
“Unless you wish me to stay.”
“Why should you stay? I know you have no liking for the castle. It was no surprise to me when you moved to that cottage near the mill.”
“If you’d needed me, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“I did not need you.” Margaret smiled faintly. “But I miss you. Why do you look so surprised? We are friends, are we not?”
“Yes.” But Margaret had never said those words before, and it indicated how disturbed she was that she uttered them now. They had formed a strong bond in their efforts to save Ian and Glenclaren, but Margaret guarded her core of privacy as rigidly as Jane did her own and would allow no one too close. Perhaps she should have stayed at the castle and tried to make Margaret’s lot easier. Margaret was so strong, Jane sometimes forgot what tremendous problems the other woman had to overcome. It was she, not Ian, who was the guiding force behind everything that happened at Glenclaren, but she never let her husband see it. She had nursed Ian, bullied him, and by sheer force of will gotten him to the point where he could sit up in bed and, infrequently, in his chair. Two years before she had sent for the vicar and insisted the wedding take place. “I’ll come back to the castle if you like.”
“Don’t be foolish. You have your duties and I have mine. We would scarce see each other if you were here.” Margaret started across the courtyard.
“Where are you going?”
“Kartauk.” Margaret’s lips set grimly. “It’s not enough I must deal with Ian’s stubbornness, now I’m forced to try to curb the rutting of that bull of a goldsmith.”
Jane smothered a smile. “Again?”
“You did me no favor when you brought him to Glenclaren. Ellen MacTavish came weeping and wailing to me yesterday morning because Kartauk had taken advantage of her innocence.”
“That’s a serious charge.”
“And a false one. She spreads her legs for every lad in the glen.” Margaret frowned. “But that’s neither here nor there. It’s the third time in two months I’ve had to deal with his philanderings. Does he think I have nothing better to do than listen to that drivel from his leamans?” She clutched her shawl closer about her. “The dratted man needs to be told a few things.” Her stride lengthened as she hurried toward the stable.
Jane’s smile faded as Margaret disappeared into Kartauk’s workroom. She noticed her hands were trembling on the reins as she mounted Bedelia.
She kicked Bedelia into a trot as she left the courtyard but impulsively turned south instead of north toward the mill as she had originally intended.
A short time later she stood on the hill looking down at the ruin of Annie Cameron’s cottage. She had gone there only once before, and that had been during the first month she had come to Glenclaren. At the time she had told herself she had been drawn only by curiosity, but she had known it had been a desperate attempt to exorcise Margaret’s haunting words about Ruel and his mother. She had known she had to harden her heart if she was to forget him. She had thought if she saw these ruins she would realize the child who lay alone and abandoned all night in this cottage dying of snakebite was not the Ruel she knew. The hour she had spent here had been both painful and unsuccessful. The memory of that boy still lingered in this glen.
Which was why she had come here today, she realized. There was nothing to fear in that child. He had been vulnerable to pain and had not yet formed the tough determination of the Ruel of Kasanpore. She needed to remember Ruel was very human and could be vanquished. She needed to reassure herself there was nothing to fear.
Not that she was really afraid, she thought quickly. She had merely been shocked by the news Ruel was coming. She could not still love him. She had worked hard to extinguish any lingering embers of that passion she had thought would last forever. Surely her discomposure was a natural reaction when she had not seen Ruel since that last intimidating glimpse at the dock.
How did she know he still felt any bitterness toward her? The separation had made them strangers. He could have changed, softened over the years. He would be eager to get back to his Cinnidar and, if she was fortunate, she might not even see him during his stay at Glenclaren. He might not seek her out.
She closed her eyes and muttered a prayer.
Dear God, let him not seek her out.
“Merciful heavens, this place smells.” Margaret wrinkled her nose as she stepped inside the door of Kartauk’s workroom. “Dung has a better odor than that foul mixture you use to fire your furnace.”
Kartauk grinned at her over his shoulder. “That’s because dung is a primary ingredient. It’s cheap fuel.” He swung open the door of the furnace and slid a tray containing a clay form into the oven. “Which should please your miserly soul, madam.”
“Well, this odor does not please me.” She strode forward to stand before him. “So I will have my say and be gone.”
“Not if you wish me to listen. I must position this tray just right in the furnace.” He jerked his head toward the high stool across the room. “Sit down.”
“But I have no time to—” She stopped as she realized, as usual, he was paying no attention to her. He never did when absorbed in his blasted work. She sat down on the stool he had indicated and hooked her heels on the rungs. She had been right to come. She was already experiencing an infinitesimal easing of tension as she settled into the familiar pattern they had woven between them. “You have no comfort here. You should spare a day from your dabbles to fashion a chair or two.” “It’s good enough for me.”
“A blanket on a haystack would be good enough for you. What about Li Sung?”
“He only sleeps here now that the mill is running.” He cast her a glance. “You’re the only one who complains of lack of comfort. If it offends you, why don’t you bring over some of your fine furnishings from the castle?”
“So that you can ruin them with your carelessness?”
“I’m not careless about the things that are important to me.”
She could not argue with him on that score. In all the details pertaining to his work he was fanatically scrupulous and painstaking. She had watched him spend two hours positioning one of his figures in the furnace. “It would be better for all of us if something besides those dratted dabbles mattered to you.”
He did not glance up. “Have you come to give me a tongue-lashing? What transgression have I committed now?”
“If you’d stop and pay attention for a moment, I would tell you,” she said tardy.
“Presently. You may get yourself a cup of coffee if you like.”
“And curdle my belly with your vile brew?” She got down from the stool and moved toward the stove. “I suppose I have no choice, if you persist in keeping me waiting.”
“No choice at all.”
She poured coffee into a cracked but spotlessly clean cup. She had discovered it was one of Kartauk’s idiosyncracies that, though shambles might exist around him, everything he touched or used must be gleaming with cleanliness. She stared curiously at the clay bust on the worktable by the furnace; it was in the first stages, the features unrecognizable. “What are you working on this time?”
“Li Sung. I started it this morning.”
She strolled back to her stool and sat down again. “I would have thought you’d have done him before this.”
“Not while he could see me working on it. There’s too much pain in Li Sung. Pain and pride. He believes no one can see his torment and it would disturb him to know that is false.” He glanced at her. “Sometimes it is best to hide knowledge when it hurts too much.”
She met his gaze and saw wisdom, cynicism … and understanding. Too much understanding. She pulled her stare away with an effort. “On occasion you actually display good sound Christian feelings. I wish you’d be as sensitive toward females.”
He went still. “You have never asked me for sensitivity before. I didn’t think you required it.”
“I don’t,” she said quickly. “I was not speaking of myself.”
He relaxed. “Thank God. For a moment I thought I had read you wrong. What a humiliation that would have been.”
“Ellen MacTavish.”
He smiled. “A lusty maid. She brought me great pleasure.”
“More than you brought her. She came running to me wailing you had stolen her virginity.”
His smile faded. “Not true. A man has his needs, but I have no traffic with women who lack experience in the joust. Jock assured me she was—”
“Jock? Now you have Ian’s servants procuring your harlots?”
“A man has his needs,” Kartauk repeated. He sat down on the stool before the worktable. “Is Ellen MacTavish to be the subject of your harping?”
“And Deidre Cameron and Martha Belmar.”
“Good God, Scottish women are garrulous. They all came to you?”
“I’m the laird’s wife. It’s the custom for the women of the glen to come to the castle if there’s trouble.”
“I brought them pleasure, not trouble, and I made no promise of marriage to any woman. Did they say I had?”
“No.” Margaret frowned in distaste. “They were mewing like cats in heat because you had not come back to them.”
Kartauk’s laughter boomed out. “It would not have been fair.” He tapped his massive chest with his fist. “To be struck once by the divine lightning is a blessing, more than that would have made them forever dissatisfied with other men.”
She closed her eyes. “Sweet Mary, what an arrogant coxcomb you are. I do not know how I can bear to be in the same room with you.”
“Because you need me.”
“Need?” Her lids flew open. “I don’t need anyone. Certainly not an impudent braggart who believes all women are useless if not in bed or posing for one of your infernal statues.”
“Not totally useless. I tolerate you who refuse to pose for me and give me neither pleasure nor—”
“ Tolerate me.” She stood up, glaring at him. “It’s I who tolerate you. You occupy this stable, which we now need for horses and livestock, and give neither aid nor—”
“You’re right.”
“What?”
He smiled gently. “I’m a selfish scoundrel who causes you nothing but grief.”
“You certainly are.” She gazed at him suspiciously. “Why are you being so agreeable?”
“Perhaps I am lonely and do not wish you to leave. Sit down and finish your coffee.”
“You, lonely?” She slowly sat back down on the stool. “You’re never lonely.”
“How do you know?” He went to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. “A man’s needs are sometimes not only of the body. Li Sung is not the only one who does not choose to reveal his weaknesses. There are times when we all do things to bring about a desired result without baring our souls.” He resumed his seat at the worktable. “Perhaps I struck those women with my lightning because I knew it would bring you to me.”
“Nonsense.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “You know me too well. You’re right, why should a man of my greatness fear to ask for what I want.”
“You certainly did not fear to ask what you wanted of Ellen MacTavish,” she said tartly.
He shrugged. “Some needs are simpler than others to satisfy. However, I ask myself why you did not feel it necessary to reprove me for my philandering until today when Ellen came to you yesterday morning.”
“I was busy yesterday.” She looked away from him. “I had no time for trivialities. You surely do not think I made an excuse to see you?”
“Heaven forbid I would so flatter myself.” He sipped his coffee. “But I did notice you appear a bit strained today.”
“Ellen MacTavish—”
“Would not have caused you to blink an eye. I’m sure you scolded her for her lack of virtue and sent her about her business. What’s really wrong?” He met her gaze. “Ian?”
Relief poured through her in a soothing stream. He had guessed, so now she could talk about it. Kartauk always managed to know what she was feeling and would have probed relentlessly until she unburdened herself. This odd bond between them had existed since that afternoon three years earlier when he had come to her sitting room after her father’s funeral to express his condolences. She had never understood why she had found herself talking to him when she could confide in no one else. She had revealed feelings toward her father she had not even shown Ian—love, disappointment … and bitterness. He had listened impassively and afterward dismissed her confidences as if they had never taken place. He had gone back to his workroom, leaving her blessedly free. “Ian won’t go to Spain.”
“You knew that three months ago. Ruel will change his mind. When does he come?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“You have greater confidence in Ruel than I do. I’m not sure I was wise in following your advice. Jane was upset when I told her he was coming.”
“She must come to terms with Ruel sometime. You need help and he can give it.”
“And nothing else matters?”
“I’m very fond of Jane.” He looked down into the depths of his cup. “But sometimes it’s necessary to make choices.”
“And you choose Ian?”
“Ian?” He drank the rest of his coffee in two swallows and set the cup on the table. “But of course. Ian has the greater need. We all must make sacrifices for Ian. He had a bad night?”
“How did you know?”
“You would have not brought up Spain again before Ruel arrived if you’d not been prodded.”
“He coughed all night.” Her hand tightened on the cup. “And yet when I mentioned Spain he laughed at me. He said Glenclaren needs him. It makes no difference that I need him too.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Are you mad? Isn’t he carrying enough burdens without adding guilt?”
“No, you would not want to add to his burden.” He smiled. “But I mean nothing to you and have strong shoulders that can shrug off any burden. Tell me, I want to know.”
He did want to know. His gaze was fixed intently on her face, and she could feel the strength of his will enfolding her.
“Let it go,” he said softly. “Give it to me. Start last night when the coughing started.”
She drew a deep breath and began.
He listened intently, his clever fingers molding the clay in front of him as the words burst from her in a torrent. She was not conscious of the passing of time, but at one point Kartauk rose to his feet to light the lamp on the wooden support beside the table. Then he sat back down and listened again.
She finally stopped speaking, and silence fell between them. Peace.
Kartauk’s powerful hand smashed down on the clay form on the table in front of him!
“What—” Her gaze flew to his face. “Why did you do that? You worked on it all afternoon.”
“It was not good enough.” He picked up a towel and wiped his hands. “It is better to destroy with one blow than try to make something magnificent out of the commonplace.” He grinned. “Not that I could ever be commonplace. For an ordinary man, that effort might have culminated the work of a lifetime.”
Her moment of uneasiness vanished, and she smiled back at him. “Arrogance.”
“Truth.” He stood up and stretched lazily. “And here is another truth. It is time you went back to your Ian. It will be dark soon and he’ll begin to worry.”
“Yes.” She rose to her feet but stood there hesitating. “Are you coming to play chess with Ian after supper tonight?”
“Not tonight.” He made a face as he looked down at the mangled clay on the table. “I have work to do here.”
She started for the door. “Then I’ll no doubt see you when Ruel arrives.”
“Possibly.” He was frowning with absorption, his hands once more kneading the clay.
He had already forgotten her presence, forgotten her words. Well, that was what she wished, wasn’t it? He gave her silence and peace and then closed her away from him. Yet, for some reason, today this isolation bothered her.
She paused at the door as a thought occurred to her. “You’ve never done one of me, have you?”
“What?”
“You’re making a bust of Li Sung without his knowledge. How do I know you haven’t modeled one of me as well?”
“You’re wondering if I have your likeness secreted away among my treasures?” He shook his head. “No, madam.”
She felt an absurd rush of relief. “I wouldn’t put it past you. No one is safe when your art is weighed in the balance.”
“True.” He lifted his head. “But I’ve never made a bust of you.”
“Why not?” she asked curiously. “I would not dare.”
She started to laugh and then stopped, suddenly breathless and unsure as she met his gaze.
Then he looked down and resumed kneading the clay. He said lightly, “Even I tremble before the laird’s lady’s righteous wrath.”
A tumult of confused emotions streamed through her, relief and disappointment foremost. For a moment she had felt as if she had been about to discover some great and mysterious truth about Kartauk and then been cheated of the knowledge. What did she really know about him? He never spoke of his past, never asked for help except as it pertained to his art, and let no one see beyond that bold, flamboyant exterior. During these years she had taken much from him and given nothing in return. Perhaps he had not been joking when he had said he had needs of the spirit that had to be met. “I did not tell the truth,” she said haltingly. “You would be missed if you left Glenclaren.”
He stopped in midmotion but did not look at her. “By Ian?”
“Yes.” She moistened her lips before she said awkwardly, “And by me. I believe you kinder than you pretend.”
“Do you?” He glanced up and a flashing smile lit his face. “But I do not pretend. Don’t judge me by your standards. I’m a ruthless heathen, remember?”
She nodded. “How could I forget?”
“And now a heartless womanizer.”
The rogue was baiting her. Why the devil was she worrying about the sensitivity of his blasted feelings? “That you most certainly are. From now on when you strike one of those sluts with your divine fire, make sure you stay to put out the blaze yourself.”
She heard his roar of laughter as she stalked out of the stable.
Li Sung knocked on the door of Jane’s cottage only moments after she arrived back at the mill site.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw her face as she opened the door. “Ian?”
Blast it, she had known Li Sung would notice her discomposure and that was the reason she had gone to the cottage instead of directly to the mill. She shook her head. “He’s no worse.” She saw the envelope in his hand. “For me?”
“It came right after you left. I thought you would want to see it right away.” He handed her the envelope. “It’s from Lancashire.”
Hope leapt as she eagerly tore open the letter. Dear heaven, let the answer be yes. She needed good news today. Bitter disappointment flooded through her as she scanned the brief note.
“Another refusal?” Li Sung’s gaze was on her face.
“Yes.” She folded the letter and stuffed the letter back in the envelope. “It seems my services aren’t needed by the Lancashire railroad.”
“That’s all they said?”
“Oh no.” She smiled crookedly. “Mr. Radkins suggests I occupy myself in more genteel pursuits and forget this foolishness of trying to involve myself in masculine endeavors.”
“He is the fool,” Li Sung said.
“Well, it appears the world is full of fools. This is the fifth refusal I’ve received in the last six months.” She tossed the envelope on the table. The rejection was a blow she hadn’t needed when she was already feeling this sense of panic and uncertainty. “I suppose I should have expected it. The most incompetent of men are perceived as better than a woman.”
“We could go back to America,” Li Sung suggested. “Perhaps they would be more open than these British.”
“That’s too far away. I need to be in Scotland or, at least, England, in case Ian needs me.”
He shook his head. “I have never understood this guilt you feel for Ian’s injury.”
She had been tempted during the last three years to tell him the reason, but now she was glad she had not. She did not need to cope with a bristling, defensive Li Sung as well as Ruel.
“Why?” Li Sung asked. “The accident was no one’s fault.”
How she wished that were true, that she was as free of guilt as Li Sung thought. God in heaven, she was weary of shouldering the knowledge that Ian would be strong and well if she had not blinded herself to what Patrick might do. But she had no choice but to shoulder it when every time she saw Ian her guilt was there before her in all its heart-wrenching tragedy.
“I like Ian. Naturally, I wish to do all I can for him.” She abruptly turned away and snatched up her tartan shawl from the chair and moved toward the door. “I feel like a walk. Are you coming with me?”
He shook his head as he limped toward his horse. “My leg has taken enough punishment for one day, and you seem more in the mood for running away than walking. I’m going back to the castle and will see you tomorrow morning.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Unless you have further need of me.”
She forced a smile. “The day’s work is done and the workers have gone home. Why should I have need of you? The letter? I was expecting it.”
“And were you expecting the news from the castle that made you look as pale and shaking as you do when you have the fever?”
“I don’t look—” She stopped as she met his gaze. “Ruel MacClaren will be arriving at Glenclaren tomorrow.”
“I see.” He smiled faintly. “No wonder you are disturbed,”
“I’m not disturbed. Uneasy, perhaps.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “He … unsettles me. He unsettles everybody.”
“He has done a great deal for Glenclaren.” As she started to protest, he went on. “We may have done the work, but it was his money that made it possible. You can’t deny that, Jane.”
“I don’t deny it.” She was silent a moment and then burst out, “I just wish—why couldn’t he have stayed away? He doesn’t belong here.”
“Neither do we,” Li Sung said softly. “You know it as well as I, or you would not have sought work away from here. I’ve seen your restlessness growing for the last year. How long must we stay here?”
“As long as Ian needs us.”
Li Sung shook his head. “You and I have given him the Glenclaren he wants, and Margaret provides him with all else.”
She watched him awkwardly mount his horse and turn it toward the castle. “Li Sung!”
He glanced back at her.
“Are you truly unhappy here?”
He shook his head. “One place is as good as another to me. Perhaps I, too, am a little restless now that there are no longer any challenges to overcome.” He kicked his horse into a trot.
She hugged the green and black tartan shawl closer as she started up the hill. The sun was almost down and the autumn wind cold as it touched her cheeks. She moved quickly, almost running up the rough dirt path. She should really go back to the cottage and fix her evening meal and go to bed but found the prospect unappealing. Though she had been up at dawn and spent the entire day supervising the work at the mill until Margaret’s summons had taken her to the castle, she was not tired. Of late she had noticed any weariness she experienced came from sheer monotony. The events of yesterday and today and tomorrow all blended into stultifying sameness.
No, not tomorrow. Tomorrow Ruel would come.
She would not think of Ruel. She would think of the work still to be done at Glenclaren and Li Sung’s words. In spite of his denial, she sensed the same discontent in him she had been feeling of late. She had no right to chain Li Sung here because of her own sense of obligation. Yet where could she and Li Sung go if they left Glenclaren? Railroads were the only life they knew, and it had been made bitterly clear no one would hire a cripple and a woman. She would have to consider the possibilities and—
“I see you’ve taken to wearing the MacClaren tartan.”
She froze with shock.
Ruel continued mockingly. “It’s too much a contrast with that red mane. It’s not what I’d dress you in at all.”
She turned slowly to see Ruel walking up the path toward her. He was the same. No trace of the vulnerability for which she had prayed as she had looked down at Annie’s cottage. Except for looking tougher, leaner, he had not changed.
God in heaven, what was wrong with her? She felt as if she were going to faint. She couldn’t breathe. She felt as chained as she had that day she had left Kasanpore— chained, desperate, sad, and other emotions too chaotic to define. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid pounding of her heart. “You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”
“It’s never wise to do the expected. It allows one’s enemies to prepare themselves.”
“You have no enemies here.”
“Don’t I?” He drew even with her on the path. “Then why has the thought of you tormented me more than any enemy I’ve ever had?” He smiled at her. “Did you think about me too?”
“No, I didn’t think of you at all,” she lied. “I’ve been far too busy.”
The wind lifted his hair away from his forehead, revealing the stark beauty of his features. She found herself staring at him with the same fascination she had felt the first time she had seen him.
“So Maggie wrote me.” He looked down at the mill in the valley below. “The repairs on the castle, the dairy, the new mill. Ian must be very happy.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Not entirely.” His gaze shifted to her face, and she received the shocking impact of those searing blue eyes. “I also wanted you to suffer, and instead you’ve taken the easy way.”
“Easy?” she asked, stung. “I’ve worked very hard.”
“But it’s the kind of work that fulfills you, that you’d be unhappy doing without.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Margaret prefers to care for Ian’s personal needs.”
“I should have expected you to escape, I suppose.” He smiled. “But now that I’m here, I can rectify that mistake.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You can do nothing to me. I told you it was my choice to come here and it will be my choice if I leave.”
“And you’ve been thinking of leaving Glenclaren, haven’t you?” he asked softly. “I’ve been expecting that for quite a while. Three years is a long time.”
“I suppose Margaret mentioned that I’ve been seeking work with a few of the local railroads.”
“No, she spoke only of Glenclaren, but I knew you’d grow restless.”
Yes, the mandarin had always known her thoughts, she realized in despair.
He nodded as he read them now. “Aye, I know you. I thought I knew you before, but no one knows you as well as I do now. I didn’t want to think about you, but you were there” His lips tightened. “I’d lie down to sleep after breaking my back on the mountain and there you were. At first I was angry, but after a while I grew accustomed to you intruding. You became part of my life. You became part of me.”
She shivered. “You hate me.”
“I don’t know what I feel for you any longer. I know only that I have to rid myself of you.” He paused. “And I can’t do that until I know you’ve been punished for what you did to Ian.”
“Good God, I have been punished. Every time I look at him I hurt.”
“But you don’t look at him. You stay away from the castle in your cozy little cottage by the mill and seldom see his pain.”
She refused to justify herself, when he wouldn’t believe her anyway. “I’m not going to make excuses. You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”
“No, it’s too late for excuses. Actually, I blame myself for failing to take into account Maggie’s zeal. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m here now and can shape events to suit myself.” He smiled. “I have to get on to the castle. I stopped by only to warn you not to try to run away from me.”
“If I chose to leave here, nothing you say could make me stay.”
“But I’d find you. Or Li Sung.” He paused. “Or Patrick. Did I mention I paid a visit to Patrick at his lodging house in Edinburgh?”
She stiffened warily. “You know you didn’t.”
“Perhaps because he was less than coherent. Is he always drunk these days?”
“So I understand,” she said reservedly.
“I was surprised you’d let him out from under your protective wing. Could it be your fondness for the scalawag is waning?”
She didn’t answer.
“But there still seems to be some feeling there. His landlady says your quarterly payments keep him out of the gutter.” He nodded. “Yes, I believe I can use Patrick.” He reached out and tucked her shawl more closely around her shoulders in a gesture that was oddly possessive. “Go back to the cottage. It’s growing cooler and you’ll catch a chill.”
The gesture caught her off guard and she stared at him in bewilderment. “You wouldn’t care if I froze to death.”
“That’s not true. I’d care very much. I don’t want anything or anyone to touch you.” He paused. “But me. I want you to realize that I’m the only wind that can blow you either good or ill.” The words were spoken softly, casually, but she was aware of an underlying intensity. His fingers reached out and caressingly touched the side of her throat. She experienced a shock of heat that caused her to jerk away from him.
He smiled as he noticed the involuntary response. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to see you. By that time I will have had my talk with Maggie and Ian and be ready to state my proposition.”
“You’re going to try to persuade Ian to go to Spain?”
“No, I’m taking him home to Cinnidar with me.”
Her eyes widened. “He’ll never go.”
“You’re wrong. Ian will come with me.” He met her gaze. “And so will you, Jane.”
She forgot to breathe. “No,” she whispered.
“Don’t go to the mill tomorrow morning, or I’ll come after you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not at the moment. But yes, I am a threat to you. However, sometimes we choose to embrace a threat if we find it to our advantage. And you’ll definitely find my proposition to your advantage, Jane.” He turned and started down the hill. “By the way, don’t wear that shawl tomorrow. It displeases me.”
This man who had once asked her to wed him didn’t think her worthy to wear the clan tartan. Strange that such a small thing should sting her when she had borne much worse from him. “You may not feel I belong here, but Margaret gave me this shawl and I have every intention of wearing it.”
“You believe I’m outraged you’re desecrating the honor of the clan by wearing it?” He shook his head. “If I thought you could do that by wearing the blasted thing, I’d dress you in the MacClaren plaid from head to toe. I have no fondness for Glenclaren or its trappings. My father made sure I knew I didn’t belong here.”
“Then you should not mind me wearing the tartan.”
“But then, I’m not always reasonable. The tartan’s like a brand of ownership, and I don’t like the thought of Glenclaren owning you. Don’t wear the shawl again.”
The panic she had tried to hide from him raced through her as she watched him walk away. He had only had to appear and she had been immediately plunged into the same emotional turmoil as the moment she had left Kasanpore. Only moments before he had come she had been bewailing the sameness of Glenclaren, but now she desperately wanted that monotony to return.
He could not make her go to Cinnidar, she thought desperately. He could not make her do anything. The time was past when he could play on her emotions and twist her to do his will. She was safe from him now.
She drew a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm herself. Yes, she had still felt the fascination drawing her to him, but that had been only of the flesh. It might be a power he would always have over her, but it was a power she could fight. It wasn’t love. She was over that madness now. She had purged herself of that insanity during these years away from him.
It wasn’t love.