A Borrowed Scot (30 page)
Authors: Karen Ranney
Her head tipped back, her face offered up to his gaze. Her features were perfect, her eyes a pure green this morning, the soft rose of her cheeks and lips adding color to the ivory of her complexion. His lips hovered over hers, a mere breath away.
“Do I love you? How can I not? You’re confusing, amusing, fascinating, and I suspect you’ll lead me a merry race for the rest of my life.”
“That was not the most romantic declaration of love I’ve ever heard, Montgomery Fairfax.”
“Shall I agree to work on it?” he asked, bending his head to kiss her cheek. “Each day, in every way.” He kissed the edge of her jaw.
He looked at her, not at Doncaster Hall. The sunlight struck her hair, lit her eyes, and illuminated her lovely face. Her beauty, face, feature, and soul, struck him and stole his breath.
In that instant, he realized Doncaster Hall was neither more substantial nor blessed than any other building. It was, after all, only a structure, not capable of sentient thought or feeling.
Home was here, with this woman, with her courage and optimism, with her strength and resilience. Veronica was his home.
She stood on tiptoe, laid her cheek gently against his, feeling the abrasiveness of his unshaven skin. Turning her head slightly, she brushed her lips against the side of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin, before slowly trailing a path down his throat. Her lips rested against the pulse furiously beating there, placed the tip of her tongue there tenderly, breathed against the spot of moisture.
“Are you for seducing me, Veronica Fairfax?” he asked in the brogue of Scotland.
She smiled, feeling his lips against her temple as he spoke.
“I am, Montgomery Fairfax. Have you any objections?”
He pulled back, looked at her, amusement fading from his face.
“I love you, Veronica. There, is that better?”
Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in response.
M
ary Tulloch looked into the surface of the mirror. Her reflection was the same image she’d seen on that long-ago day when she was little more than a child.
She’d no complaints with life. She’d been loved and had loved; her children were healthy and a comfort. She’d been kind when she could and cruel when the occasion warranted it.
Now was time for it to end.
The reflection changed, as if the Tulloch Sgàthán had heard her thoughts, brown clouds boiling around the edge of the reflection.
A young girl, shockingly attired in faded blue trousers, stood there, her face twisted in an expression of irritation. A white pea was tucked into each ear, both peas connected by a white vine to something clutched in her fist. Behind her stood a crowd of people being led by a woman in a strange dress, consisting of a kilt and a man’s jacket.
She could almost hear the derision in the girl’s voice as she spoke to someone and wondered at the reasons for her anger. As she watched, the girl separated herself from the others, stomping away until she came to a plot of land so familiar Mary’s heart clenched.
Her cottage was different, however, marked by placards and ropes. She tried to read one of the signs, but her vision had faded over the years. Instead, she concentrated on where the girl had gone, some distance behind the cottage.
She tripped on something laid into the earth, something existing even in this age. Her heart racing, Mary watched as the girl knelt, tucked the white beans and vine in her pocket, and lifted a rotting board. Slowly, the girl bent, her hand outstretched.
The image faded, but the purpose of it had been clear enough.
The day was blustery and threatening a storm as Mary Tulloch left her cottage. She took her time walking to the edge of her land, knowing that it might be the last time she made the journey. With some effort, she lifted the boards placed over an abandoned well, the very place she’d found the mirror all those years ago. Gently, she laid the Tulloch Sgàthán on a pillow of dirt for a girl in the future to discover again.
An occult organization operated in London
beginning in the 1830s. The actual group, on which the Society of the Mercaii
was based, was discontinued in the 1840s, although some speculated it still
functioned well into the 20
th
century, albeit
under more secrecy.
John Contee Fairfax was born on a James River
plantation in Virginia and became the 11
th
Lord
Fairfax of Cameron. I’ve borrowed some of the Fairfax history for Montgomery’s
antecedents. Denton Hall was the seat of the Fairfax family in Scotland.
Lord Fairfax is a Lord of Parliament, a title
created in Scotland before 1707. Its equivalent is close to a baron in the
English peerage.
Early balloons were used to report troop movements
on both sides in the Civil War. They were mainly tethered, the altitude enabling
the pilots to overlook enemy lines. President Abraham Lincoln established a
Balloon Corps that was disbanded in 1863. Once General George McClennan, one of
the early supporters of balloons for aerial reconnaissance, was relieved of his
command, little enthusiasm, and even less money, existed for the project.
However, experimentation with aeronautics continued.
Paraffin oil is known as kerosene in the United
States and Canada. In the early days of kerosene production, it was considered
deadly because of its propensity for exploding. Today, because of the advances
in the refining process, kerosene is a much safer product.
The topography of the Highlands and Perth is as
realistic as I can make it. However, I’ve taken liberty with some geographical
landmarks such as the River Tairn and Ben Wyllis. They’re not to be found on any
map.
The Royal George Hotel, visited by Queen Victoria
and her retinue, was actually in Perth.
K
AREN
R
ANNEY
wanted to be a writer from the time she was five years old and filled her Big Chief tablet with stories. People in stories did amazing things and she was too shy to do anything amazing. Years spent in Japan, Paris, and Italy, however, not only fueled her imagination, but proved that she wasn’t that shy after all. Yet she prefers to keep her current adventures between the covers of her books. Karen lives in San Antonio, Texas, and loves to hear from her readers at
www.karenranney.com
.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
A Borrowed Scot
A Highland Duchess
Sold to a Laird
A Scotsman in Love
The Devil Wears Tartan
The Scottish Companion
Autumn in Scotland
An Unlikely Governess
Till Next We Meet
So in Love
To Love a Scottish Lord
The Irresistible Macrae
When the Laird Returns
One Man’s Love
After the Kiss
My True Love
My Beloved
Upon a Wicked Time
My Wicked Fantasy
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Karen Ranney. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition March 2011 ISBN: 9780062078704
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