AnchorandStorm (10 page)

He escorted the doctor into the hallway and turned him over to the care of the housekeeper. He headed back to the room, on the pretext of seeing if Em needed him to do anything more for her. But in his heart, he knew he just didn’t want to leave her.

For a moment, Angus wondered why he had been so quick to help Callander, but then answered his own question. If Lord Callander died without a son and it didn’t look as though there was going to be one now, Stockdale would become the next Earl of Callander. The staff had talked about this eventuality and they all dreaded it, but it now seemed inevitable. Angus could almost hear the prayers of the other servants. He knew he should be praying too, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to pray for.

He knocked lightly on the door. “Come in.”

Weston had fallen asleep in a chair. Em still kneeled by Callander’s bed, holding his hand and talking to him in a voice choked with tears.

“Don’t leave me, Edgar, my love. Please don’t leave me. Ye said we’d have time together, but it’s hardly been any time a’tall. I love ye so much, my darlin’, please wake up. Ye must wake up.” She looked up as if suddenly noticing Angus standing there. “Oh Angus, what am I going to do? What am I going to do if he dies?”

Angus felt his ire rising. Just as she had nothing to worry about now, she would have nothing to worry about when her husband died. Surely Callander would have made certain his wife would be taken care of, knowing his time on this earth was limited. With no son to inherit the title, she would only have to change her place of residence. Her future was secured no matter what happened.

“Don’t worry, milady. I hear the dower house is quite comfortable.”

She couldn’t have looked more hurt if he had slapped her.

He bowed his head in shame and left the room.

Chapter Eight

Caroline was a firm believer that if you wanted anything done properly, you must do it yourself. That was why she found herself walking to the stable while it was still dark outside, trying her best to swallow her fear of horses.

She had lain awake most of the night, torn between anger at that stupid husband of hers and fear. Fear that Edgar wouldn’t die or that Emily was carrying his child. Or both. Finally, in the darkest hours of the night, she came up with a plan. Raymond had had the right idea, he simply chose the wrong person. And she knew why. She didn’t care if he ran off with the little bitch, as long as she got what she was entitled to. She hadn’t pretended to love Raymond all these years just to be cast aside with nothing to show for it.

The moon was bright enough to light her way to the door of the stable. Once inside, she removed the dark cloth she had placed over the lamp she carried. It gave her enough light by which to see but created shadows that threatened her from every angle. After taking a few minutes to distinguish reality from illusion, she started to walk down the row between the stalls. She looked from right to left and into every corner.

She had no idea where the saddles might be kept.

Halfway down the aisle, one of the horses snorted and stamped its foot. Caroline jumped away from the stall door, stifling the scream that rose to her throat. The sounds, the smells, all brought back the memories. She remembered the pain from being thrown by a horse and she remembered her father complaining again that he had been cursed with a daughter…and a clumsy one at that. When the years passed without the birth of a son, he began to drown his disappointment in whisky. From that point on, her life had been hell and it still was. That was why she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Finally, at the end of the aisle, she saw a rack holding an array of saddles. She remembered and had seen enough to know that a “lady” rode sidesaddle, if Emily could be considered a lady. To Caroline, she was just a grasping little whore.

As she suspected, she noticed a sidesaddle at the end of the rack. She examined it more closely with the lamp. It didn’t look as if it had been used much, but of course Emily had not been riding lately.
That must be hers
, Caroline thought.

She took the sharp knife she had pilfered from the kitchen and scraped it across the girth on the underside, cutting through the leather just enough to weaken it without the damage, hopefully, being noticeable.

The next time Emily rode, the girth should give way, taking care of her and any child she might be carrying.

Caroline turned and headed back down the aisle. She was almost to the door when a huge head came over one of the stalls and snorted at her. She screamed and scrambled backward.

But instead of the wooden door of the opposite stall, she felt warm, solid, living flesh against her back.

After leaving the house, Angus had gone to his room in the stable and sat on the side of his bed for a long time, his head bowed, his hands hanging loosely between his knees. The shame and the pain in his heart permeated his whole body.

Why did I say that to her?

But he knew why. He had wanted to hurt her the way he had been hurt when he was finally forced to face the truth.
She loves her husband.

In the stories her father had told of her, she sounded like the kind of lass who did not care about possessions and titles. When he found out she had married Callander, however, Angus had begun to doubt Jock Sinclair’s assessment of his daughter. Every father thinks the best of his child, doesn’t he? So it was easy for Angus to believe that Em was not how Jock had painted her, but rather like any woman who had fallen on hard times and found a way out.

But when he saw the pain his remark had caused her, Angus could no longer deny that she had indeed married for love, not riches. He had to apologize to her, but would she allow him to? Would she even listen?

He finally lay down, but sleep eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the look on her face and his heart began to hurt again.

Dawn was still a few hours away when he gave up and went into the stable, hoping work would take his mind off Em.

He was surprised to find that he was not alone. It was all he could do not to laugh when the woman backed into him.

“May I help ye, Lady Stockdale?”

She gave a screech and scampered away from him, bumping into Tar’s stall. The big stallion swung his head toward her and bared his teeth. She screamed again and jumped away from the stall. Angus moved to catch the lamp before she dropped it in the dry straw at the edges of the aisle.

He again had to stifle a laugh. She looked for all the world like a billiard ball bouncing from one side of the table to the other. “Ye’re out and about verra early, milady.”

“Yes, um, yes,” the woman stuttered. “I could not sleep, you know, what with all the excitement last evening.”

“Aye, of course.” He remembered her husband saying that she was afraid of horses and wondered what she was doing here in the stable. He decided to egg her on. “Would ye like me to saddle a horse for ye?” he asked. “We have a fine sidesaddle ye can use.”

“
No!
” she blurted, her eyes as big as saucers. One hand covered her heart, as if it threatened to pop out of her chest. She held the other hand stiffly by her side, within the folds of her skirt. Angus had a strange feeling that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t see anything.

“No,” she repeated, seeming to have gained back some of her composure. “I just wanted to see this stallion everyone was talking about.”

“Well, ye’ve seen him and rather closely,” Angus said, nodding at the big dark head that still peered over the stall door.

“I understand he threw my husband yesterday.”

“Aye, that he did.”

She had a slight smile on her face now, which appeared to be one of satisfaction. Then, she turned to him and her expression changed. As she eyed him up and down, she looked like a cat that had just lapped up the cream. He was surprised when she completed that impression by licking her lips.

“Or perhaps I came to see you.”

A shock ran through him. Surely, she could not mean what he suspected she meant. Did she think he was an amenity provided by the estate, along with her meals and clean sheets?

“The horses are available for riding, milady. I am not.”

She gasped. “
How dare you
suggest such a thing?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it in mid-air, his fingers tightening around her wrist.

“An ye’ll excuse me, milady, I have work to do.” He handed her back the lamp and turned away. He heard her spluttering behind him for a moment, then the sound of her footsteps receded in the direction of the house.

* * * * *

Fen labored up the stairs, burdened by an armful of Lady Stockdale’s petticoats that Mrs. Lamond had just finished pressing. She dreaded having to take the clothing to the lady, she frightened Fen so. She was mean and Fen wasn’t used to mean people. No one on milord’s estate treated her meanly, neither her mother, nor Angus, nor any of the other servants would allow it.

As she neared the door to the guest bedrooms, she heard loud voices and stopped in the hallway, afraid to knock.

“What have you done, Caroline?” she heard the man say.

That nasty woman replied, “You had the right idea, Raymond, but with your usual incompetence, you chose the wrong target. But don’t worry, I have taken care of it myself.”

The man said again, “What have you done, Caroline?”

And the woman said, “Let’s just say that she will get a surprise the next time she goes riding.”

Suddenly the door opened and the woman came out. She almost ran into Fen before she stopped. “What are you doing here?” she yelled.

Fen shook so badly she dropped the bundle of petticoats, then she turned and ran back downstairs.

Angus did not go up to the house until suppertime. He had no appetite, so it didn’t matter to him that he missed meals. At midday, he had eaten a stale bannock he had found in one of his pockets. He wasn’t hungry now, but he wanted to find out what was happening with Lord Callander…and Em.

He had taken only a few bites of Essie’s rabbit stew when Fen came in, carrying a tray.

“Well?” asked Essie.

Fen shook her head. “She willna eat nor drink. She just cries.” Angus noticed the gleam of tears in Fen’s own eyes.

“All right then,” Essie said. “Go about yer chores, girl.”

Fen set the tray down and left the room. Angus tried to finish his meal, but the food stuck in his throat. He finally gave up and stood to leave.

“Will you take the tray up to her, Angus?”

Startled by her words, he turned to the cook and asked, “Why me?”

“Because o’ the way ye took charge after the accident. Lord Callander is a strong master, despite his weak legs. The lass is strong too, in her own way, but this has taken all the starch out of her. She needs a firm hand right now, otherwise she’ll end up worse off than milord and he’ll need her when he wakes up.” Essie said it as if Callander were only sleeping. “I’ve ne’er seen two people more in love. I pray God milord recovers from this and they can at least have a wee bit more time together.”

The cook’s words forced Angus to again realize what a fool he had been and how badly he had treated Em. He picked up the tray. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As he ascended the stairs, his heart grew heavier with each step. He had to face her sometime, now was as good as any. His mind raced to form the words of his apology and he
thought
he had it ready when he got to Lord Callander’s bedchamber.

He knocked on the door and heard a soft voice say, “Come in.”

Angus shifted the tray to one arm and opened the door. The only light in the room came from the fireplace. He was glad to see that Hamish had kept the fire burning brightly, but no one had bothered to light the lamps.

Emily knelt in the shadows next to Callander’s bed, her eyes closed and her hands working the beads of a rosary. She glanced up as Angus entered but went back to her prayers without acknowledging him.

This isn’t going to be easy
, he thought. But he knew it was no less than he deserved.

He walked around the bed to the side where Em knelt. A lamp and a bowl of clean water holding several linen cloths took up most of the space on the nightstand. He glanced at Lord Callander and saw that Em had applied the rags to the knot on her husband’s brow.

Angus moved the bowl to the floor and pushed aside the lamp, then set the tray down. “Orders from Essie,” he said. “Ye must eat.”

She ignored him. He watched her delicate fingers caress each bead as she prayed and thought of how those hands would feel on his body. He shook his head to clear his mind of that thought. Why torture himself with something that could never happen?

He reached down to light the lamp on the bedside table. When he saw her face clearly for the first time since entering the room, his carefully crafted apology fled his brain. “Holy God, lass,” he breathed and dropped into a chair next to the table.

Her eyes were nearly swollen shut and red-rimmed from crying. Red streaks from wiping away the tears stained her cheeks and her nose was almost raw from blowing it.

“Ye’ve nearly cried yerself dry.”

She slowly turned her face toward him. Her voice hoarse, she asked, “Why should you care?”

He squeezed his eyes shut against her frank look and hung his head, shaking it from side to side. “Milady,” he began softly, “I dinna ken how to ever tell ye how sorry I am for what I said to ye. Ye didna deserve it and it was mean of me.”

“Why did ye say it then?”

“I—I don’t know.” He knew, of course, but he couldn’t add his own hurt feelings to the burden she carried. Not now that he had realized her true feelings for her husband. To try to avoid the subject, he reached down and took a cloth in the bowl of water. “Come here,” he said.