Claimed By The Laird Part 11

Gertrude made a huffing sound. "As though you need to penny pinch! Why, everyone knows that the duke is the richest man in Scotland and that you yourself will have an independent fortune within a couple of years!" Malice tinged her voice. "It will be some small recompense, I suppose, for being an old spinster, long on the shelf."

Christina felt her stomach drop in sickening fashion. She was used to Gertrude's spiteful digs, but they were still painful to bear. She knew her sister-in-law deliberately tried to provoke her. She was doing it again now because Christina had refused to rise to her previous comment.

"What was the name of that fellow you were betrothed to?" Gertrude was musing. "McMahon? McGregor?"

"McGill," Christina said expressionlessly.

"McGill!" Gertrude said with glee. "He went off to London and married a grocer's daughter! One chance to secure a husband, Christina, and you fail because Lord McGill preferred the daughter of a cit!"

Christina gritted her teeth. Sometimes it seemed, looking back, that her life had been a house of cards, and the tiniest breath of wind had sent them tumbling. She had thought her life was built on rock, but there had been nothing but shifting sand.

She became aware of a tall figure standing by the carriage steps waiting to help them ascend. It was Lucas. The Forres livery of black and scarlet suited his tall, broad-shouldered physique. Christina realized she was staring and shut her mouth with a snap just as Gertrude let out a crow of delight.

"Ah! There you are, Ross! Galloway did find a uniform to fit you, then. That's excellent. It was quite unacceptable for that other footman to escort us tonight. He was far too unprepossessing." She gave Lucas a comprehensive glance. "A pity you do not have a twin. You would have looked very pretty together on the back of the carriage."

"Gertrude!" Christina was simultaneously appalled at her sister-in-law's high-handed dismissal of Thomas Wallace and the way she spoke to and about Lucas as though he were no more than an ornament. "You cannot simply tell Thomas that he is not to accompany us. It is part of his job! Imagine how that must make him feel. I suppose-" she allowed her disgust to color her tone "-you told him he was too ugly to be seen on the back of a carriage?"

Gertrude looked blank. "Of course I did not offer an explanation. What an odd idea. I merely told him that his services were not required tonight."

Christina was so furious she stormed up the carriage steps, ignoring the hand Lucas held out to help her and equally ignoring the fact that Gertrude, always so keen on a.s.serting her precedence, wanted to take the best seat. The journey to the manse pa.s.sed in an uncomfortable simmering silence.

Gertrude's taunting words seemed to ring in Christina's ears. An old spinster, long on the shelf...

It was true. That was precisely what she was and perhaps that was why it hurt so much. What made it worse, though, was that Lucas had heard. That was humiliating. Of course, Lucas knew her situation. Yet she did not want Lucas to pity her. She did not need sympathy. She had chosen this life.

Having got into the carriage first, Christina was the last down the steps when they finally arrived. This time Gertrude made sure to sweep out with a great fuss and swish of skirts, her back still rigid with outrage.

Lucas was again waiting to help, but Christina felt reluctant to take his hand even though she needed it this time, as there was quite a drop to the ground. Gritting her teeth and telling herself not to be so stupid, she put her hand in his. Immediately Lucas's fingers closed about hers, long and strong. It was such a small thing, only a touch, and it should have been impersonal but it was not. Christina felt the sensation shimmer through her down to her toes, and she stopped dead on the top step.

Immediately Lucas stepped forward and Christina knew he was about to scoop her up in his arms. "There is no need to carry me, Mr. Ross," she said quickly. "I am not an infant."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am." Lucas's voice was low and amused, his lips so close to her ear that she felt her hair stir with his breath. "I thought that after your experience in the library you might have developed a fear of heights."

"As usual, you exceed your duties," Christina said.

Lucas gave her a smile. "Ma'am."

"That was not a compliment," Christina said.

Lucas's smile disappeared. "Ma'am."

"I believe we also owe you an apology, Mr. Ross," Christina said stiffly. "It was inappropriate for Lady Semple to ask you to do Thomas's job this evening, and even more so for her to comment on your appearance."

"Yes, ma'am," Lucas said. "Thank you."

Christina was unsure whether he was agreeing with her or simply acknowledging the point. Servants were not supposed to have opinions. Not that Lucas Ross had ever behaved as he was supposed to do.

"It was equally inappropriate," she said, "to rehea.r.s.e our family's tedious personal affairs in front of you. I apologize for that, too."

"I wouldn't call them tedious," Lucas said. "And forgive me, ma'am, but Lady Semple's conclusions were quite mistaken." His voice had changed, hardened. Christina could have sworn there was a thread of anger in it now. "I do not know who this McGill was, ma'am," he said, "but he sounds like a complete fool."

Christina felt a pang of shock. "Thank you," she said, "but-"

"Any number of men would be happy to marry you, ma'am," Lucas continued, "and they would be fortunate to do so."

"Because I am an heiress," Christina said. She felt a flash of bitterness.

"No, ma'am," Lucas said. He dropped his voice so that no one could overhear. "Because you are generous and kind and you kiss like an angel."

"Mr. Ross!" Christina's face flamed and her heart beat so hard she thought he would surely hear it. "I am not sure there has ever been so improper a servant as you are," she said. "You take the most appalling liberties."

"You did ask, ma'am," Lucas said, with a smile that was entirely disrespectful.

"It strikes me, Mr. Ross," Christina said, ignoring the flare of heat that look engendered, "that you are in completely the wrong job. You need to be employed in something where you can exercise your initiative and express your opinions freely since you do that anyway." She shook her head. "Did I not tell you right at the start that flirting with a member of the family was improper?"

"I thought it might be," Lucas said. "Except I was not flirting. I was telling the truth."

"Enough," Christina said. "Are you trying to incite me to sack you, Mr. Ross? Think about what I said. If you wish to study or apply for more challenging work, I would be happy to sponsor you."

Even though it was getting dark, she saw the sudden flare of astonishment in Lucas's eyes. Perhaps he had not believed her sincere. Perhaps he was accustomed to people making empty offers. His background and upbringing as an orphan on the streets of Edinburgh could not have made him the most trusting of men.

"That is extremely generous of you, ma'am," he said after a moment, "but I do not require such charity."

Christina stiffened. She could not help herself-she felt offended at the rebuff. She should have realized. Lucas Ross needed no one. She had lost count of the number of times he had spurned her attempts to help him. He was utterly self-contained, utterly cold. She thought of the flowers she had left him, which the following day she had found wilting on the compost heap behind the potting sheds and had felt a strange sense of desolation sweep through her.

"My lady-" Lucas said, and she realized that her feelings must have shown and now he did pity her. She shook her head and walked away up the path to the door. She could see Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson in the brightly lit hall, waiting to greet her, and Gertrude's cross face peering back at her through the dark.

"Christina!" Her sister-in-law's tone cut like gla.s.s. "What on earth are you doing out there? You are taking hours!"

"Nothing," Christina said, with a sigh. "I'm doing nothing at all."

LUCAS HELPED THE groom and coachman stable the horses, for which they were properly grateful, though they gave him some banter about dirtying his smart uniform. Acting as footman was a complication he had not seen coming. Annie, the second housemaid, had asked him to coach Thomas Wallace in his duties because poor Thomas was hopeless and Galloway was becoming increasingly exasperated with him. Lucas had been on the terrace giving Thomas some practical advice when Lady Semple had come across them and had promptly decreed that Lucas would accompany them that night in Thomas's place.

"We are condescending to visit a relatively modest household," she had said. Her cold gaze had slid over Thomas, itemizing his flushed, freckled face, untidy hair and untucked shirt. "We need to show them how to do things properly. You will not do, Wallace. Not at all."

Thomas had slipped away, looking mightily relieved, and Lady Semple had sent Lucas off to be sized up for a footman's livery, much to Galloway's disgust.

"Don't go getting ideas, lad," he had said to Lucas as he'd unearthed an ancient and slightly moth-eaten uniform. "Currying favor with her ladyship is all very well, but your place is in the garden, not the drawing room."

"Of course, Mr. Galloway," Lucas had said. He'd been tempted to remind the butler that at his interview, Galloway had told him he might need to turn his hand to anything at Kilmory. However, he did not think that would help. It was an irony, since he could not bear Lady Semple and had absolutely no desire at all to curry favor with her, as Galloway put it.

Gertrude, as Lucas had already realized, was inclined to ride roughshod over anything and anyone in her way. She and her husband were precisely the sort of aristocrat that Lucas abhorred: arrogant, self-obsessed and full of that sense of ent.i.tlement that he deplored. They did nothing useful, but expected to be rewarded handsomely simply for existing. More heinous was the way in which they both treated Christina. Gertrude's casual contempt for her sister-in-law made Lucas seethe, whilst her husband's bullying ways made him want to punch the man. He knew it should not matter to him one way or the other, but it did. It mattered to him a great deal, and there was nothing he could do about that.

The horses had picked up on his tension and were watching him with dark, intelligent eyes, ears p.r.i.c.ked as though antic.i.p.ating trouble. Lucas deliberately banked down his anger and frustration in order not to spook them. Working with horses was something he enjoyed. He had learned to ride as a child on his grandfather's estates, and later, when his stepfather had thrown him out and he had gone to Scotland, he had eventually found work driving the dray horses that delivered goods around the streets of Edinburgh.

He remembered Christina asking him if he had worked with horses. He had rebuffed her question as he generally did if anyone asked him something too personal or got too close. He had done the same thing tonight when she had offered to sponsor him in finding a new job or studying to better himself. Her open generosity completely devastated him; he did not know how to deal with it. So he pushed her away-and now he felt bad about it because he had upset her. Christina was too kind, he thought as he closed the stable door softly behind him. Several times now she had tried to help him, reaching out to him, only to be rejected. Christina cared, and as a result she laid herself open to hurt.

He swore softly under his breath. He did not want to hurt Christina.

A housemaid was at his shoulder. "You're to take dinner in the servants' hall," she said, gesturing toward the steps that led down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. "Keep your head down-Cook has burned the pheasants and Mr. Dixon, the steward, is on the warpath. Proper bad mood he's in tonight."

Lucas nodded, repressing a smile. "Thank you," he said.

The girl nodded and withdrew and Lucas strolled across the yard and down the bas.e.m.e.nt steps to the servants' hall. It was brightly lit, rich with the smells of roasting meat and busy with the bustle of a working household.

A hara.s.sed steward strode past, saw Lucas's livery and paused. "What's your name?" he demanded.

"Lucas, sir."

The steward nodded. "Well, Lucas, I have a house full of guests and no footman working with me as he was foolish enough to sprain his wrist yesterday. You can help serve dinner."

"Yes, sir," Lucas said. He hoped he could remember his etiquette. He was more than a little out of practice.

IT WAS THE worst dinner Christina had had to endure for a very long time. The food was delicious, the wine was very fine, conversation sparkled and she sat frozen like a pillar of salt to the chair. It was Lucas's fault, of course. When she saw him come into the dining room and realized that he was to help serve dinner she felt a very peculiar nervousness, as though she was a debutante at her first formal meal, terrified of dropping her winegla.s.s or using the wrong fork. Her appet.i.te vanished. For a moment it felt as though her mouth was filled with sawdust and she could not swallow.

She found her gaze riveted to Lucas's hands as he served her. The sight of a footman handling vegetables had never previously caused her to blush, but she was so on edge now that she was practically dancing on her chair. She saw Mrs. MacPherson give her a curious glance and felt even more self-conscious.

She knew she could not really blame Lucas for her discomfiture. It was not his fault that she could not behave naturally in his presence, and she admired his coolness in stepping up to the job when clearly he had been drafted in at the last minute to help Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson's very hara.s.sed steward. His service was immaculate, deferential and smooth; although he did not look at her once, Christina felt as though she was on display. It was very uncomfortable.

Eventually the ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their port, and she found herself drawn into conversation with Mrs. MacPherson and her cousin, Lady Bellingham, as they sat together on a wide rose brocade sofa. She had met Lord and Lady Bellingham on their previous visit to Kilmory and liked them a great deal. She the impression that Mrs. MacPherson had deliberately sought her out and made sure that Gertrude could not join them. Her sister-in-law sat glowering at them from a deep armchair across the room.

"I hear that you have been fixed in Kilmory for some considerable time, Lady Christina," Lady Bellingham said, looking thoughtfully at Christina with her bright brown eyes. "How do you find it? Not too dull, I hope."

"Oh, there is plenty to keep me busy," Christina said lightly. It was her standard reply when anyone asked her how she felt. "Papa prefers Kilmory to Forres for his studies."

"But what about you?" Lady Bellingham persisted gently. "Is there much society for you here? Running the estate is all very well-" She smiled when Christina made a slight gesture of protest. "My dear Lady Christina, everyone knows that you are the one who really takes care of the people of Kilmory. You are laird in all but name. It was the first thing I heard when I came here."

Christina, aware of Gertrude's deepening frown, blushed. "I merely keep the household running, ma'am...."

"And only that until Angus comes into his inheritance," Gertrude said, adding with a false sweetness that set Christina's teeth on edge, "Then dear Christina may take a very hard-earned break from her housekeeping duties."

"Well," Lady Bellingham said, a chip of ice entering her voice, "let us not hurry the duke to his demise quite yet!" She smiled at Christina, pointedly excluding Gertrude. "My dear, I should be so delighted if you wished to visit me in Edinburgh sometime. Do say you will! I insist on it." Then, as Gertrude opened her mouth, presumably to invite herself, too, Lady Bellingham said, "I would invite you, too, Lady Semple, but as the future chatelaine of Kilmory you must be so occupied with family and other commitments that I would not dream of adding to your burdens with another invitation."

Gertrude's mouth closed with a snap and she looked chagrined.

Mrs. MacPherson leaned closer to Christina, dropping her voice a little. "I must apologize that we commandeered your footman so shamelessly to serve dinner tonight," she said. "It was very bad of us but he rose to the occasion with aplomb."

"Oh, Ross is excellent in every way," Gertrude said, seizing the opportunity to enter the conversation again. She shot Christina a triumphant glance. "I was the one who recognized his potential. Dear Christina had him laboring in the garden!"

"Actually, it was Papa who appointed Mr. Ross as under gardener," Christina said stiffly. She felt a p.r.i.c.kle of annoyance to hear Gertrude speak so possessively of Lucas.

"When we return to Castle Semple, I am thinking of taking him with me," Gertrude continued as though Christina had not spoken. "He is wasted at Kilmory. I will offer him promotion and more money."

"I beg you to do no such thing, Gertrude," Christina said sharply. "It is already difficult enough to get good servants here, and with Mr. Hemmings so sick the gardens are already neglected. Besides-" she got a grip on herself, realizing that her tone had betrayed perhaps more than a professional interest in Lucas "-Mr. Ross himself might surely have some say in the matter."

Gertrude looked blank. "Gracious, what a notion! I do not require opinions from my servants."

"Then you will be sadly disappointed in Mr. Ross," Christina snapped. "He has plenty of opinions and is not slow to share them!"

She was aware of astonishment on the faces of Gertrude and Mrs. MacPherson, and a lively spark of speculation in Lady Bellingham's eyes. Yes, decidedly, she had betrayed too much.

There was an awkward silence, broken only when Mrs. MacPherson glanced at the clock. "Excuse me. I must go and see about a fresh pot of tea for when the gentlemen join us."

Lady Bellingham went to talk to Allegra, and as Christina had no desire to be left alone with Gertrude, who would no doubt be harping on about how different everything would be when she was mistress of Kilmory, she, too, excused herself to the ladies' withdrawing room. She tidied her hair, smoothed her dress and took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady herself.

The house was hot and stuffy, too, perhaps because the MacPhersons were worried that their guests might be cold, even in a Scottish summer. Christina's head was aching, though, from the heat and the tension. She pulled back the heavy velvet drapes that cloaked the window and with a sigh of relief, drew up the window sash to let in a breath of fresh air.

It was a clear night but a windy one. A gust rattled the branches of a tree against the gla.s.s. Glancing out, Christina saw a tall shadow crossing the courtyard. From the way he moved she knew at once that it was Lucas and her heart did a strange little skip. It was odd that she recognized him so quickly, so instinctively, and yet she had no doubts.

A second later the breath caught in her throat as another figure stepped out of the shadows. It was one of the maids, a pert, dark-haired girl who had taken Christina's cloak on arrival with a respectful dip of the head. She had then almost dropped Christina's cloak when she had caught sight of Lucas. Christina had noticed it at the time and thought it amusing, but she did not find it quite so entertaining now as the girl put a hand on Lucas's arm to arrest his progress, stood on tiptoe and their shadows merged.

A pain wedged like a knife between Christina's ribs. It was fiercer than she could have imagined. She had not realized until now quite how much she had liked Lucas.

Fool.

So now she was jealous of a housemaid for kissing a handsome footman, which was what housemaids had done since time immemorial. And of course Lucas would kiss her back. He was young and good-looking and the housemaid was extremely pretty. Christina felt hot and envious and mortified to be feeling anything at all.

She pressed her burning forehead to the cold pane of the gla.s.s. What a stupid little fool she had been to conceive such a tendre for Lucas Ross and to imagine for a moment that he might admire her, as well. He had only been playing with her. He was probably laughing at her. No doubt it was a game he had played many times before and she, the sad, elderly spinster aunt had allowed it, indulged him, even though she knew she should not, because it had flattered her and excited her and made life so much more vibrant and bright.

She let the curtain fall back into place. Automatically she tidied her hair and smoothed her gown for a second time, taking comfort from the repeated movements, the habit of tidying herself and presenting a calm facade to the world. The mirror reflected a wan face, though, and she sighed to see it. Gertrude would be sure to notice and tell her she looked sallow.

As she came out into the pa.s.sageway, Lucas was coming through the green baize door leading from the servants' quarters carrying a tray with a silver teapot. When he saw her he smiled, and she could not help herself-her heart gave its customary little tumble of excitement and pleasure.

Fool.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

WHEN THE KNOCK came at the door of his cottage the following evening, Lucas was in no mood for company. It had been a long, hard, hot day and he had spent it hauling stone for the grotto and digging out the rest of the watercourse. He ached in muscles he could swear he did not possess and all he wanted was a hot bath and to sleep. The former was impossible-his cottage possessed nothing more luxurious than a stone trough fed with cold water from the pump outside-and the latter was unlikely since his mattress was old and lumpy and the blankets coa.r.s.e.

The door had opened without his invitation. A woman stood there, cloaked, her hood up. For a moment Lucas's heart leaped at the thought it might be Christina. He had not seen her since the previous night. She had thanked him politely for his services when they had returned to Kilmory Castle, but he had sensed a chill in her, a sense of withdrawal that he was at a loss to explain. He was not sure why he needed to explain it, why it disturbed him, but it did.

The figure stepped into the room and Lucas's heart steadied. This woman was too short and too slight to be Christina. Besides, Christina would not visit him here. She was far too proper.

"I brought you food." Alice Parmenter was placing a cloth-covered wicker basket on the wooden table. "You missed supper."

Lucas gave a grunt of acknowledgment. He tried hard to ensure that he took his meals in the servants' hall since his fellow servants were an indispensable source of information but on this occasion he was bone weary.