Chapter Ten
“Where have you set for a destination today?” Duncan asked when Aaran arrived in the Thom Manor morning room dressed for riding.
“I should make an obligatory call upon Lady Rayland, as well as assure myself that Boyde has arrived at his mother’s new home,” Aaran supplied as he filled himself a plate from the choices set out upon the side bar.
“Do you require company?” Duncan asked with a lift of his brows.
“I would not wish you to know Lady Rayland’s disdain,” Aaran admitted as he sat across from Duncan at the table.
“Likewise,” Duncan insisted. “Her Ladyship should be offering you her gratitude rather than her disapproval. Heaven forbid that your brother had been the one to take control of your sept of the Graham dynasty. Your father had executed enough damage.”
Aaran knew it had been Duncan’s hand upon the till of the Graham land for many years.
Such had been what saved the estate and regrew the Graham fortune.
Assuredly, Aaran knew bits of the work of a tenant farmer, but he had known nothing of managing an estate, rather several estates, as well as the responsibilities to the other Graham families.
In fact, he could not read or write beyond the bare minimum when Duncan and Lady Elsbeth took him in. All those things he owed to Duncan.
It always amazed Aaran to think of how many sleepless nights Duncan must have known.
There were times when Lord Macdonald Duncan tended to not only his Scottish affairs, as well as his role in Parliament and the Home Office, but also the welfare of the estates belonging to the five young boys that His Lordship had brought under his care.
“I am confident Lady Rayland expected nothing less than paying Boyde’s debts on my part,” Aaran admitted.
“And will expect it again and again,” Duncan predicted.
Aaran knew such was true, but what could he do? He was not a man who would turn his heart from those for whom he cared, and he sincerely cared for Boyde Graham, even when he disapproved of his younger brother’s antics.
Before he could respond to Duncan’s observation, His Lordship asked, “Will you also call upon Cunningham’s daughter?”
“Such was not part of my plans for today,” Aaran said dutifully, though the woman was constantly on his mind.
“We will all stand with you and against Cunningham if Lady Freya is your choice,” Duncan assured.
“I held no doubt otherwise,” Aaran replied.
“But I have been asking myself if such would be fair to the lady? She would be losing her family—her mother and her sister. Cunningham would never permit his wife and his eldest daughter to acknowledge Lady Freya again. I know firsthand what it is to wish to see your features in the others who surround you.”
“You would instead see her as Sir Patrick Hodge’s wife?” Duncan challenged.
Aaran swallowed the rush of denial upon his lips. “I was thinking perhaps Lady Freya might be a good match for Boyde.”
Duncan shook his head in denial. “According to your sisters in marriage, Lady Freya’s heart is set upon you.”
“The lady’s heart is set on avoiding a connection to Sir Patrick; therefore, both she and Cunningham will approve of her joining to the Grahams—just not to me.”
“I am not so convinced of that,” Duncan admitted. “When you return from your visit with Boyde, you and I should have a serious talk. There are things of which you should be made aware.”
Freya was surprised by how easily she had managed to reach a sturdy branch upon which to perch, though she would not wish anyone to take notice.
Her shirttails were hiked higher than she would like, but she had efficiently removed herself from the bull’s view.
“Hopefully, he will quickly find his way back to his adoring throng,” she groused.
With a sigh of acceptance, she glanced about to see if anyone had viewed her antics. “No one to know otherwise.”
For nearly a quarter hour, Freya observed the bull’s antics as the animal playfully nudged two different cows, as if attempting each to meet him in the shadows. “Come on, Romeo,” Freya coaxed aloud, though she would not wish to view nature’s act.
Then she heard hoofbeats and looked down to her shirttails, but there was little she could do to cover herself properly.
A rider was actually following the road from the main house towards the village.
Despite wishing to be rescued, Freya had no desire to be found in a tree.
Even so, she took a good hold of the limb and forced herself to call out.
“Help! Help please!” The man did not turn to notice her, but the bull did.
The animal snorted and pawed the ground several times.
For a frightful moment, she thought the gentleman would pass her by, but he stopped and waved—not to her—but to another rider. Her heart sank as a figure she would know anywhere reined in before the first. “Wonderful!” she groaned in despair, and both men turned together to view her situation.
The younger man frowned, but, as was typical of the other man, the man she was learning to love, Lord Aaran Graham smiled. He turned his horse to climb the hill, while the other rider followed. “Fancy meeting you here, Lady Freya,” Lord Aaran Graham called as he stepped down from his horse.
“She is trespassing on my stepfather’s land,” the younger gentleman declared with a sense of importance.
“Not true,” Lord Graham corrected. “I believe the lady is the niece of Rayland’s clergyman.” Lord Graham was staring up at her exposed legs and grinning widely.
“But she should not be in Lord Rayland’s tree,” the other man, who she now knew must be Lord Boyde Graham, argued.
“Her father outranks Rayland,” Lord Graham said with a frown of disapproval, for her actions or his brother’s absurdity, she did not know. He returned his attention to her dangling legs. “Might you wish to join us on the ground, my lady?”
“I would gladly do so,” she said with a huff of irritation. “However, Lord Rayland’s bull still expresses his dislike of our interrupting his amorous affairs.”
Both men looked to where she pointed. As she had described, the bull remained at the bottom of the hill, snorting and pawing the ground in displeasure.
“Perhaps, Boyde,” Lord Graham instructed, “you might convince the cows to move on so the bull will follow, while I assist Lady Freya to the ground.”
“Why must I chase away the bull,” the younger man argued, “and you assist the lady?”
Freya knew Lord Graham swallowed his first thought.
“Instead,” he asked, “are you prepared to marry the girl for taking her in your arms? As I see it, there are no means of assisting her down without doing so. Trust me, her father, Lord Iain Cunningham will use this incident to force you to marry his youngest daughter. His Lordship has chosen a husband for the lady, but as you are both a relatively wealthy lord and Scottish, rather than an English baronet, I imagine Lord Cunningham might change his mind. Moreover, you are young enough that His Lordship might take you under his tutelage.”
“Why would he not do the same with you?” the younger Graham brother demanded.
“For he would rather see his daughter’s reputation in ruins than to present her to the likes of me,” Lord Graham said with only a hint of bitterness in his tone, which Freya thought remarkable considering Lord Graham’s place in society.
The younger lord shook his head in disbelief. “You are an odd one, Aaran. You could buy her father—heck, every father’s approval if only…”
“I would not want that type of approval,” Lord Graham said in hard tones. “Now be about driving the cows away, while I assist Lady Freya down. I mean to call upon your mother this morning.”
The younger lord shrugged his acceptance and turned his horse to race towards the cows with a call of “Ha!” and a sharp whistle. Meanwhile, Lord Graham said, “Do you wish to climb down now?”
“I am not confident I can without falling,” Freya admitted.
“I will break your fall if such occurs,” Lord Graham instructed.
“I grew up with four brothers who often climbed too high. I am accustomed to assisting them. Moreover, I have confidence in you, Lady Freya Cunningham, for you are the most adventurous spirit of my acquaintance, and the likes of Lady Emma Orson and Lady Annalise Beaufort are among my family.”
“You will not look at my legs?” she asked foolishly.
“If I close my eyes, how will I know if you require my assistance?” he asked with another large smile.
“You are incorrigible!” she declared as she turned on the branch and began to work her way down, her shirttail draped about her legs and, as he had predicted, she wished she could see the next branch more clearly.
She was nearing the bench upon which His Lordship stood when her boot slid off the lowest limb—her footing failing her completely.
She expected to tumble to the ground, but Lord Graham’s arms came about her legs.
For a few precarious seconds it was as if he had lifted her high into the air.
Then he tumbled over backwards, slamming into the ground, but never releasing her, just as he said he would.
“My lord!” She immediately was checking him, searching his body with her hands. “Tell me you are well.”
He caught one of her hands and caressed her cheek with the other. “Do you recall what I said when you offered to tend my injured leg?” he questioned as he stared into her eyes.
Freya stilled immediately. “Y… Yes,” she managed.
His Lordship’s hand caught the back of her head and guided her to a position where his lips were finally touching hers.
Freya had never been kissed and knew not what to do, but when his mouth met hers, the pressure was gentle—more gentle than she expected.
“Freya,” he murmured as the heat of his mouth on hers increased.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who was telling the tale, they both heard the sound of his brother’s return.