Chapter 9 #2
He fell into step with her. “I’m not happy Patrick hurt you. It was what I always feared, but I never wanted it.”
“I’ll get over it.” And she would also break free of Ruel in spite of his determination to make her aware of his power over her. If she had not wanted to go to Glenclaren, no coercion would have forced her to go. It had been her decision to try to right the wrong she had done Ian.
“You’re walking too fast. Since you refuse to honor me with your confidence regarding MacClaren and Patrick, may I at least ask where we’re running in such a hurry?”
“Sorry.” She slowed to accommodate Li Sung’s limping gait. She had been running from Ruel, she realized suddenly, away from that implacable will that had jerked Ian back from the gates of death and was now focused on her. “I thought I’d go down to the cargo hold and see how Sam and Bedelia are doing.”
“Everyone is going to be so happy to see you.” Jane reached out and took Ian’s cold hand. “Your Glenclaren is beautiful. I can see why you love it.”
Ian didn’t take his gaze from the towers in the distance. “Yes, it is beautiful.”
She pulled the blanket higher around him. The jarring trip had not been good for him, she thought anxiously. If possible, he looked paler than when they had lifted his stretcher onto the back of this wagon at the docks in Edinburgh two days earlier. “Truly. Everything is going to be fine.”
“I can almost believe it,” he whispered, still looking at the castle. “Perhaps there really was a reason …”
Ten minutes later the wagon rumbled over the wooden drawbridge and into the flagstoned courtyard.
A chipped and stained cistern occupied the center of the courtyard, and scraggly blades of grass grew between the flagstones. Wherever she looked Jane could see signs of age and disrepair.
“It’s not always like this,” Ian said. “I’ve been away a long time and places this old need care and nurturing.”
“Or tearing down,” Kartauk murmured.
Jane gave him a withering glance. “It won’t take us long to do a few repairs, Ian.” How strange to realize Ruel had grown up in this castle. It was difficult to even connect Ruel with this weathered, ancient place.
“Where is he?” The brass-bracketed front door flew open and a young woman marched down the stairs. “Good God, Ian, have they not got you sitting up yet?”
“Margaret?” Ian said in disbelief. He lifted himself on one elbow to look over the side of the wagon. “What are you doing here?”
“Where else would I be?” She strode toward the wagon. “When I received Ruel’s letter I moved Father and myself to Glenclaren. Until you’re over this infirmity, it was clearly the most practical thing to do.”
Jane felt a ripple of surprise at her first sight of Margaret MacDonald. Soft hands, lace, and a fashionable bustle … She could see why Ian had laughed when she had described how she had envisioned his Margaret. She could not see the woman’s hands, but her high-collared dark blue gown was faded and shabby with long use, and she moved with a bold economical grace. She was tall and slim, her wheat-colored hair worn in a smooth bun. Her square chin and large, mobile mouth were too strong to be considered beautiful, but she possessed wide-set gray eyes that were startlingly lovely.
Margaret climbed into the wagon and knelt beside Ian. “You look terrible,” she told him bluntly. “I can see it’s time you came home.” She gave him a quick kiss and continued briskly. “But no matter, I’ll set everything straight.”
“Margaret …” Ian’s finger reached out and touched her cheek. “Bonnie Margaret.”
“Your illness must have affected your eyesight as well as your limbs,” she said tartly. “For bonnie I certainly am not.” She turned to Jane and demanded, “Who are you?”
“Jane Barnaby.” She gestured to the two men on the front seat of the wagon. “Li Sung and John Kartauk.”
“And why are you here?”
“Ruel sent—”
“Never mind, that explains everything,” Margaret interrupted. “Ruel was ever cavorting around with the most peculiar people.” Her gaze raked appraisingly over Li Sung before dismissing him and fastening on Kartauk. “How strong are you?”
Kartauk blinked. “Strong as a bull. Mighty as Hercules.”
“One can usually discount three quarters of what braggarts say, but that may still be sufficient.” She turned and called, “Jock!”
A small, burly man with a shock of red hair hurried down the steps.
She ordered Kartauk, “Get down from that seat and help Jock carry Ian up to his chamber.” She scooted out of the wagon. “Jock, put him to bed while I go to the scullery and see what I can find for him to eat.” She turned to Jane. “Come with me to the scullery and make yourself useful. We have only three servants to run this vast place, and now with four more mouths to feed I don’t—”
Jane interjected quickly, “We won’t be a burden to you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Kartauk said as he and Jock carefully eased Ian’s stretcher from the wagon. “An artist is always the most precious of burdens, and it is the privilege of all to nurture and care for them.”
“You dabble in paints?” Margaret asked.
Kartauk looked pained. “I do not dabble. I create for the ages. I’m a great goldsmith.”
“Just so you’re a strong goldsmith. I won’t have you dropping Ian on the stairs.” She turned to Li Sung. “Take the wagon to the stable and unharness those horses. Then come back to the scullery and I’ll find something else for you to do.”
“You’re treating them like servants,” Ian protested. “These are our guests, Margaret.”
“Glenclaren can afford no guests who will not work for their bread.” The gentleness with which she smoothed back his hair belied the harshness of her words. “Now hush, and let me have my way in this. I’ll be up as soon as Jock gets you to bed and you’ve had a short rest.” She turned and strode across the courtyard, demanding over her shoulder of Jane, “Coming?”
Jane hurried after her. “Coming.”
“Wait.” Margaret’s gaze fastened on Sam, who was gamboling at Jane’s heels. “The dog is yours?”
“Sam will be no trouble.”
Margaret’s stare shifted to Bedelia, who was following the wagon into the stable. “And the horse?”
“I couldn’t leave her in Kasanpore.”
“You’ll have to get rid of both. We can’t afford them,” Margaret said flatly.
Jane drew a deep breath and said clearly, “No.”
Margaret blinked. “No?”
“They stay. They belong to me and I’ll take care of them.”
“I see.” Grudging respect flickered briefly across Margaret’s face before she turned and entered the castle. “See that you do.”
The scullery to which Margaret led her was drafty, as crumbling as the courtyard, and could have used a thorough cleaning.
Margaret intercepted Jane’s critical glance and said, “I arrived only two days ago and cannot do everything. If it doesn’t please you, clean it yourself.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Of course you did. Be honest with me. I have no time for polite mouthings.”
Jane found herself smiling. “Then I’ll give you none. Since you gave me no quarrel about Sam and Bedelia, I decided to hold my tongue, but the place is a pigsty. Li Sung and I will set to cleaning it as soon as he gets back from the stable.”
“That’s better.” Margaret indicated a small gray-haired woman seated by a huge open fireplace peeling potatoes. “This is Mary Rhodes. Mary, this is Jane Barnaby. She came with Ian.”
“Another mouth to feed,” the woman said sourly. “It’s not as if you didn’t have enough to worry about.”
“She’ll earn her keep.” Margaret strolled across the kitchen toward the fire. “And I’m not worried. It’s foolish to worry about things you cannot help. Is the stew done?”
“After I add these potatoes.”
“I’ll finish here. You go and ready three more chambers.”
“Three?”
“Three,” Margaret repeated firmly. “And no grumbling. The Lord will provide.”
“It’s usually you who does the providing,” Mary muttered as she handed Margaret her bowl of potatoes and knife and rose to her feet. “I’ve noticed he leaves you pretty much on your own.” She moved toward the door. “Since I’ll be nearby, I’ll look in on your father too.”
“You needn’t bother.” A sudden smile lit Margaret’s face. “But thank you, Mary.” Her smile faded as she turned back to Jane. “Dear God, Ian looked ill,” she whispered. “Ruel wrote me, but I didn’t expect …” She sat down in the chair Mary had vacated and quickly started peeling potatoes. “Is there no hope he will walk again?”
“The doctor thought not,” Jane said gently.
“A doctor can be as much a fool as any other man. We will ignore him and do our best.” She shifted her shoulders as if throwing off a burden, her gaze raking over Jane. “Why do you wear trousers? You look most strange.”
Jane stiffened warily. No soft hands or fashionable bustle, but perhaps Margaret was not as different from those other women as Jane had thought. “These are the only clothes I possess. I’m sorry you don’t find them appropriate.”
Margaret scowled. “A woman should look like a woman. Men think too well of themselves as it is without our flattering them by trying to imitate them.”
Jane gazed at her, stunned, then started to laugh. “I had no thought of imitating them. I worked beside men on the railroad and I found it practical to wear these clothes.”
“Indeed? Perhaps you do have reason for those outlandish garments, but you should have sought a compromise.” Sudden interest flared in Margaret’s expression. “Railroad? I approve of women who do things. How did you come to work on a rail—” She stopped and shook her head. “You can tell me later. I must concentrate on what is important now. How long do you plan on staying here?”
“I promised Ruel I’d stay as long as Ian needs me.”
Margaret’s expression clouded. “And God knows how long that will be. He seems to need a great deal of help, and Glenclaren can use all the hands it can muster.”
“That’s what Ruel said.”
“Really? I find that surprising. Glenclaren could crumble into dust for all Ruel cares.”
“I understand most people care something for the place where they grew up.”
Margaret looked at her in astonishment. “But he didn’t grow up here. Annie had a small cottage on the other side of the glen.”
“Annie?”
“Annie Cameron, Ruel’s mother. Didn’t you know Ruel was born on the wrong side of the blanket?”
Jane’s eyes widened. “But his name is MacClaren.”
“Ruel refused to go by any other name even though his father refused to acknowledge him. He wanted nothing to do with Glenclaren, but he ever loved to stir up trouble and knew it annoyed the laird.”
“But Ian always spoke as if …” Jane shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Ian never tells anyone about Annie. I’ve tried to tell him he bears no guilt for the way the laird treated Ruel, but he won’t listen to me. Ruel was his brother and he feels it was partly his fault his father refused to marry the woman and denied Ruel was his son.”
“Why did he do that?”
“Glenclaren. The laird already had a son and didn’t need another and Annie was not a virtuous woman.” She added dryly, “Though that fact didn’t seem to make a difference to him until he grew tired of her. At first he was quite mad about her. From what I’ve heard she was as comely then as Ruel is now. Everyone thought she had cast a spell over the laird.”
A mandarin casting spells …
“Is she still alive?”
Margaret shook her head. “She went away to Edinburgh when Ruel was about twelve. We heard later that she died of influenza.”
“She just left him?”
“He was well able to care for himself.” Margaret moved her shoulders impatiently. “Enough about Ruel. The rascal always seems to garner the bulk of attention even when he’s not on the same continent.” She stood up and carried the potatoes over to the fireplace and poured them into the boiling kettle. “Now, tell me about the Chinese and that arrogant coxcomb who came with you.”
Two hours later Margaret swept into Ian’s chamber. “Have they made you comfortable?” She glanced at Kartauk sitting beside the bed. “We don’t need you here any longer. You may go and find a place to set up your workshop. Jane tells me you may be here awhile and will need a place to putter.”
“Putter.” He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Dabble. You have no understanding of the importance of my work.”
“But I have an excellent understanding of the importance of mine.” She gestured toward the door. “Choose anyplace you like, but go.”
Kartauk scowled. “What else could I expect in this cold, barbaric country.” He left the chamber.
“And good riddance.” Margaret crossed to the bed and sat down beside Ian. “I’ve arranged for the vicar to come to the castle in three days’ time and marry us, so you must rest and get your strength back from the journey.”
“We’re not going to marry.”
“Of course we are. Not that I didn’t expect this foolishness from you.” She gently pushed the hair back from his forehead. “I’ve watched you trying to save Ruel from himself since the moment he was born, and now you think I need rescuing.”
“I won’t be another burden to you. Your father—”
“Is fading fast and will soon no longer enter into the situation.”
His gaze flew to her face. “You didn’t write me.”
“Why should I? Would it have helped him?”
“I would have come back to you.”
Her expression softened. “Aye, I know.”
“I share your sorrow.”
She grimaced. “I wish I could feel sorrow, but we both know my father is not a loving man. At times I’ve thought perhaps God grew weary of his pretense at illness and gave him this true reason for lingering in bed.” She smiled with an effort. “Which will probably cause him to send a bolt of lightning to strike me down.”
“Never,” Ian said softly. “No one could have been kinder and more dutiful than you, Margaret.”
“He’s my father.” She shrugged. “And we both know duty and honor make the only difference between civilization and savagery.” She changed the subject. “And speaking of savagery, how is Ruel?”
“The same.” Ian paused. “And different.”
“Well, that’s clear. However, he appears to be displaying a newfound sense of responsibility. I received a draft for two thousand pounds from him yesterday with word he would send more as it became available.”
“What!” He immediately shook his head. “That left him only a thousand for his own use. Send it back to him.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Glenclaren needs it. You need it,” Margaret said. “It will be good for Ruel to think of someone else for a change.”
“He saved my life at risk of his own.”
“Oh, Ruel’s very good at those kinds of gestures. It’s self-discipline he’s lacking.”
Ian laughed. “Lord, I’ve missed you, Margaret.” His smile vanished. “But I will not let you wed a cripple. You’ve wasted enough of your life already.”
“Who is to know if you will remain a cripple?” She went on quickly as he opened his lips to protest. “Besides, a strong body is all very well, but a strong heart and mind are more important.”
“I cannot give you children. You love children, Margaret.”
“Children may still be possible. I will talk to the physician.”
He shook his head.
“And many couples are childless. God may have not seen fit to give us a child even if you were hale and hearty.”
“No, Margaret.”
“Very well, I will wait to wed you … until you’re able to sit up for the ceremony. By that time you’ll be on your way to recovery and won’t be so stubborn.”
“It can’t happen. My back is—”
“It will happen. I’ll make it happen.” She leaned forward and kissed him swiftly on the forehead. “Now, try to rest, the journey must have tired you.”
“Everything tires me.”
“It will get better.” She rose to her feet. “While I fetch a bowl of stew I’ll send Jock in to bathe you. I suppose you’re too proud to let me perform that task?” She nodded as she saw his expression. “I thought as much.” She moved toward the door. “I can think of no reason why God gave the masculine gender such power over females when they’re all so lacking in good sense.”
Margaret closed the door behind her and immediately closed her eyes tightly as wave after wave of the anger, sorrow, and despair she could not allow anyone to see washed over her. Dear God, poor Ian.
And poor Margaret. Why was she expected to endure this new trial? Sometimes God seemed most unfair.
“You have an interesting face. I may be persuaded to do a head of you.”
Her eyes flicked open to see John Kartauk standing a few yards away from her. She flushed as she realized he must have witnessed her moment of weakness. No, perhaps not, for his gaze on her face was appraising but completely dispassionate. She cleared her throat. “I thought I told you to go find yourself a workshop.”
“I did.” He was still staring at her face. “I’ve decided to use the scullery.”
“The scullery?” she repeated, shocked. “You can’t use—”
“Of course I can. I need a furnace, and it will save me the trouble of building one. I can wall up that huge fireplace.” He took a step closer and lifted her chin on the curve of his finger. “At first I saw nothing worthwhile in your face, but I believe the jawline is tolerable and the molding of the cheekbones—”
She slapped his hand away. “I will not pose for you.”
He looked hurt. “You don’t realize the honor I do you, madam. After all, I did refuse Queen Victoria.”
Her eyes widened. “The queen asked you to—”
“Well, no, I didn’t give her the opportunity. It never pays to insult royalty, but I had already decided to refuse her.” He turned and strode down the hall. “When you regain your senses, come and tell me. I must go to the scullery and toss out all those pots and pans.”
She hurried after him. “Toss out—you’ll do no such thing!”
“Why not? They’re in my way.” “Are you mad? We all must eat. You may not have the scullery.”
“Beauty has more value than food.” He frowned. “I will compromise. I’ll permit you to have the scullery in the evening for your cooking.”
“You will permit …” She drew a deep breath and said through her teeth, “You toss out one cooking pot and I’ll use you for tomorrow’s stew meat.”
He studied her expression over his shoulder. “I believe you would do it.” He suddenly chuckled. “You’d find me tough fare, madam. I’m no tender rabbit.”
“One pot,” she enunciated clearly.
“Oh, very well.” He shrugged. “I noticed a space almost as adequate in the stable, but you must help me clear it and tell Jock to find me bricks to build my furnace.”
“Jock will be too busy tending Ian to indulge you in your foolishness, and I certainly have no time.”
Kartauk sighed. “I’ve come to a land of uncaring savages who offer me no help and will probably manipulate my talent to suit themselves.”
“You accuse me of manipulating you because I won’t let you—” She broke off as realization dawned. Kartauk was not the one who was being manipulated. “You had no intention of using the scullery,” she said flatly.
“No? Then why would I say I intended to do so?”
She did not know the answer. Yet perhaps … kindness, an attempt to distract her from her grief without damaging her pride? He had certainly seen her weakness and acted with faultless accuracy to dispel it. No, she must be mistaken. They were strangers, and he could not possibly read her so well.
“I have no idea why you would be so devious,” she said tardy. “I’ve heard men of the East delight in such convoluted maneuvering. No doubt it’s an affliction of your heathen blood.”
“No doubt,” he said blandly. “But I’m sure a Godfearing Scottish lady such as yourself will have no trouble seeing through my heathen trickery.”
Before she could answer, he strode ahead of her down the hall and started down the stairs.
···
It was after nine o’clock in the evening when Jane and Li Sung finally finished cleaning the scullery and climbed the stone stairs to the front hall.
“Sweet heaven, I’m tired.” She arched her back to rid it of stiffness. “And my knees feel as if they’re black and blue from scrubbing that blasted floor.”
“Go to bed. You will feel better in the morning.” Li Sung opened the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“To the stable. Kartauk has found a place for his workshop and quarters. I will live with him.”
“But you have a chamber here.”
“I’m used to Kartauk.”
“But will you be comfortable there?”
“More comfortable than here. The temple had far more potential for comfort than this castle.”
“Then we must make the most of what we have. We’ve done it before.”
“Yes.” Li Sung paused. “But this is different.”
She knew what he meant. Glenclaren seemed foreign to both of them. Neither she nor Li Sung belonged in castles and were far more accustomed to building than maintaining and repairing. “We’ll get used to it.”
“Because you must help Ian? I would judge Margaret MacDonald is all he needs.” He smiled faintly. “More than he needs.”
“She cannot do everything. While she helps him regain his strength, I’ll do all I can to help his Glenclaren.” She added, “But you don’t have to stay here if you’re not happy.”
“What would I do? Search out Patrick in that lodging house in Edinburgh and share his bottle?” he asked bitterly. “I admit there have been times when I’ve been tempted to choose that escape.”
Her eyes widened. “You have?”
“Why do you think I rarely permit myself to drink liquor? It’s not easy being a cripple, to limp instead of run.”
She reached out and gently touched his arm. “I know, Li Sung.”
“No, you do not know.” His gaze went to the stairs. “But now Ian knows.” He started down the steps. “I will stay here, where there is no temptation.”
Jane followed him to the door and watched him limp across the courtyard toward the stable. Did anyone ever really know another person? She had thought she knew Patrick, and he had done that unspeakable thing. She had thought she knew Li Sung, but she was again being proved wrong.
Blue eyes searing, blazing, in a face as beautiful as a fallen angel’s.
What had caused the thought of Ruel to pop out of nowhere? She could claim to know him even less than others. Margaret’s revelations this afternoon had shocked and disturbed her. She supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised. No one was less predictable and more enigmatic than Ruel.
Yet in those weeks after the wreck she had seen in him a resolution and a will that would never waver.
No, she must not think of Ruel. She had probably only thought she loved him. No, she would not lie to herself. She had loved Ruel, but surely time and distance would make that love fade and wither. She would make sure she kept herself busy enough to block out all thought of him.
In the distance she could see gently rolling hills, the heather a pale blur in the darkness. How different this land was from Kasanpore, as different as the life she must now lead here.
But she must no longer think of that other life. While she could help Ian, her place was here.
Now there was only Glenclaren.
Cinnidar.
Ruel’s hands tightened on the rail, his gaze on the island the small fishing boat was approaching. The first time he had seen Cinnidar he had felt this same sense of wonder and excitement, this sense of promise.
Jane had said something like that about her trains, he remembered suddenly. Her face had been glowing and yet there had been a gravity about—
Dammit, he would not think of her.
Instead, he would remember Ian as he had last seen him when he had settled him on the bunk of the Bonnie Lady. Pale, wasted … in terrible pain.
The ship glided closer to the pier. He was almost home.
He instantly rejected that thought too. Cinnidar was a pot of gold, not home to him. He had no need for a home just as he had no need for Jane Barnaby. What he did need was buried deep in the bowels of that mountain, and he would have to work and sweat to find a way to tear it out. He would have no time to think of anything but the task that lay ahead.
Now there was only Cinnidar.