Chapter Eleven #2
Yet when she glanced up to see him, her quiet natural beauty was more alluring than any image could be. Eyes wide behind her little spectacles, mouth a small moue of surprise, she closed her book and sat up. Her shoes were brogans, he saw, not the thin slippers of the other night.
She would not lose her balance in those sensible things—though he would not mind another chance to catch her in his arms.
“Sir Aedan! I was told you might be here, even so late.”
“Aye, it is time for the last things.”
“The what?” She looked puzzled.
“The last things for the evening,” he explained. “Or so we call it here. I check lamps, doors, and hearths, and make sure the dogs are all in for the night, and so on.”
“One of the dogs is there, asleep.” She indicated a corner under the gallery, where a white terrier lay curled on a worn leather chair. “She has been a sweet companion while I’ve been sitting here, though asleep most of the time.”
He smiled at the dog, who had pricked her ears at his entry, being familiar with the rhythm of his step and the meter of his voice.
“That was my father’s favorite chair. Gracie was his devoted pup and she prefers to sleep there now.
Gunnie keeps a blanket for her here. Gracie’s older now and seems soothed there.
” He glanced around. “I have one more dog to find, a little cairn terrier. She prefers a warm spot by the kitchen hearth.”
“Do you round up Thistle, too, when you do the last things?”
He huffed. “My aunt’s maid takes care of the creature. Gunnie would send the wee beast back to India if she could. I heard you made a friend of Thistle at tea.” He smiled.
“Apparently I did,” she laughed. “Doesn’t the butler take care of the lamps and such at the end of the day?”
“MacGregor is a feisty old rogue, but forgetful sometimes. And it is Highland tradition for the laird to see to the last things in the house.”
“You honor many traditions here at Dundrennan.”
“Some. Some we forego. I was not raised to be laird, but I tend to my responsibilities. If you prefer to read for a bit longer, madam, I’ll come back to douse the lamps later.”
She set down her book and stood. “I thought to walk in the gardens before I went up to my room.”
“Now, in damp and darkness?”
“The rain has cleared, and there’s a little moonlight now. I wanted to see the gardens and the monument. The Remembrance.”
“I would be glad to show you.”
“Oh, I could not inconvenience you. Besides, we would be alone out there, and might have to explain.” She thought of Amy, but did not name her.
“It is perfectly innocent if we both want a little night air. I do not mind.”
“I do not want to interrupt what you need to do. I can find my way to the Remembrance.”
“I will come out later, after I’ve seen to all but the kitchen door, aye?”
She ducked her head, smiling, “If you like. I was told—you dislike going there.”
“Ah, Cousin Amy is stirring rumors again.” He made a sour face.
“Use the side door past the kitchen, but take care not to wake Cook, who sleeps in a side room. She is a good cook, but disagreeable if disturbed. Follow the path straight back. If you veer left, you might get lost in the oakwood. We would not want that. Straight ahead, and you will see the Remembrance.”
“Thank you. I was hoping to see it in moonlight.”
“You are a romantic, Mrs. Blackburn.” He wanted to see it in moonlight too, with her.
More, he did not like the thought of her wandering out there alone, turning an ankle on wet grass or getting lost in mist. It could be a spooky place.
“You may want to bring a lamp. The path is overgrown with roots in some places. But the view at night is well worth it.”
“As Scott said, ‘If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright…’”
“‘Go visit it by the pale moonlight,’” he finished.
She laughed, pleased, and crossed the room. He admired the sway of her skirt, then stepped ahead to open the door, holding it open above her head.
He wiggled his fingers in farewell. “Watch out for wildcats.”
She paused to stare at him. “Wildcats?”
“We see them occasionally. Sometimes they perch in the trees, though not too close to the house. Luckily, the wolves that once harried this place are extinct now.”
That was heartless, he knew, but he could not resist teasing her a little. She was so very serious and so very appealing.
“Wolves? Oh!” She bit her lip. “Perhaps I should take a lantern, after all.”
“Stubborn bit lass,” he muttered. “Look here, Mrs. Blackburn. I do not want you wandering about in the dark alone in an unfamiliar place.”
“I will be fine.”
“I am a trustworthy escort, though you might doubt it.” He cleared his throat.
“I know,” she said quickly. “I only thought that we should not be seen together so late, walking alone in a—a romantic setting.”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Everyone is asleep but you and I. It would be our secret. We already have one or two between us,” he added.
“We do,” she said. “And we do not need another one.”
“Fair enough,” he murmured. “But I will come out to bring you back safely.”
“Fair enough.”
He picked up a small oil lamp from a table and handed it to her, then held the door open as she walked under his raised arm.