AnchorandStorm (6 page)

When she appeared to have calmed a bit, he called out to her, “Emily, is that you?”

He heard her take another deep breath, then she appeared in the doorway with a smile on her face that he knew was forced. “Yes, of course it’s me.” She crossed the room and gave him a quick kiss. “How are you doing?”

“Oh I’m fine,” he said. “Did you have a nice ride?” He couldn’t wait to hear her answer.

“Oh it was grand.” She did not sound convincing.

“Where did you go?”

“There’s a stream over the hill and a nice wee glade. We rested the horses there, then came back.”

She walked around the room, adjusting a vase of flowers here, a porcelain figure there. Anything, it seemed, so that she didn’t have to look him in the eye.

“You seem troubled, my dear. Is something the matter?”

“No,” she said, concentrating on a piece of lint on her skirt.

“Emily?”

She sighed and turned to face him. “It’s Angus MacNeill. Really, Edgar, he is so surly and,” she hesitated, “and insolent. I don’t know why ye tolerate him.”

Edgar hid a smile behind his hand. “I admit Angus can be rather gruff at times. He has never shown any insolence to me, however, and he is very good with the horses.” He casually lifted two fingers away from his lips in a gesture of nonchalance that he didn’t feel. “But if he displeases you so much I shall sell his indenture. They always need strong workers for the colonies.”

“No!” she cried, too quickly. “That is, if you are satisfied with him I don’t want you to dismiss him just for my sake.”

Edgar bit the inside of his jaw to keep from smiling outright. After Angus’ remarks in the stable yesterday, he could only imagine what had happened between them today. He had seen Angus’ temper a few times, but Emily’s only rarely. Yet he knew that throwing the two of them together was sure to create sparks.

“Shall I have a talk with him?”

“No, Edgar, I can’t have you fighting my battles for me.”

“A battle, is it?”

“Oh nothing as serious as that. I shall deal with Angus MacNeill myself. I’m going to go freshen up before dinner.”

As she left the room, Edgar wondered just how she would deal with his surly, insolent groom.

Chapter Five

She closed herself up in the house for another week, despite the lovely weather. MacNeill’s chastisement had affected her more than she cared to admit. She had observed the rest of the staff for any signs of resentment but, except for Weston, did not detect any. Finally, she figured out why MacNeill’s disapproval bothered her so much.

He was a Highlander, a fellow countryman. Although it was true they were all Scots, the Highlanders had always been more like a country unto themselves. Their lifestyle, religion and ideals were very different from Lowlanders like her husband. Edgar had acknowledged this when he proposed to her. But it seemed that MacNeill did not accept the fact that a Highland laird’s daughter could ever find love with a Lowlander.

And that was the other issue. He was right about the difference in their situations since the Rising. Although it had never been her intention and although she had lost her father and her brothers, she was now even better off than she had been before the war. While MacNeill, who should have been a great chieftain, was little more than a slave. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was somehow obligated to make it up to him.

So she bolstered up her courage and headed to the stable, hoping that she and MacNeill could establish a relationship that was more of a friendship than master-servant. If he tried to apologize for his behavior, she would brush it aside and tell him they must start afresh.

He did not apologize.

They rode in silence to the top of the hill. Or rather, MacNeill rode in silence. After a curt “Milady” as she entered the stable, he replied to her attempts to make conversation with a “hmph” here and “aye” or “nay” there. She noticed too that he barely looked at her. By the time they reached the glade by the stream, she had decided to stop trying and simply accept the silence, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

The ride, however, seemed to have lightened his spirits. When they had dismounted and walked to the water’s edge, he again offered her his handkerchief, saying, “’Tis a hot one today, is it no’?”

“Aye, it is,” she replied, wiping the sweat from her face.

They sat down on a log and he began to remove his boots.

“What are you doing?”

“Cooling off a bit before we ride back.” He waded a little way out into the water, then threw back his head and sighed. His sun-streaked brown curls fell back between his shoulder blades as the tendons in his strong neck tightened. A wave of heat spread up Emily’s own neck and she again dabbed at her skin with the handkerchief, looking downstream, upstream, anywhere but at MacNeill.

“Come on,” he said.

“What?”

“Come on in. It feels great.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not? If ye’re afraid it wouldn’t be proper, I promise not to sneak a peek at yer bare legs.”

The sly grin on his face made her laugh out loud. She sat for another moment, staring at the water trickling over the rocks, thinking how refreshing it looked. Then she quickly stripped off her boots and stockings and hitched up her skirt before she could change her mind.

“
God Almighty, it’s cold
,” she cried.

He roared with laughter. “Tsk, tsk. Such language from a countess.”

“Well, ye could ha’ warned me.”

He continued to chuckle as he turned and began to cross the stream, hopping nimbly from one rock to another. Then he stopped and looked back at her. “There’s a blackberry bush over here. Come and get some.”

She looked down at the water swirling around the rocks and shook her head.

“Ye’re not afraid, are ye?”

A memory came back to her—an eddy, a deep pool, water filling her mouth and nose, choking her. She shook her head to dispel the images and hoped he would believe it to be a denial of fear. “I just don’t feel like it and I-I don’t like blackberries.”

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed, as if he could see right into her soul. “Never known a highland lassie afraid to cross a stream.”

She was, but she would never let him know it. She headed back toward the shore.

“I am not afraid, I tell you.”

“Yes, you are.”

She sat down on the log again, her back to him, and over her shoulder said, “All right, perhaps I am, but at least I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“
What?
” He was beside her before she knew it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “What did you say to me?”

“You heard me,” she said, hoping that her voice sounded more assured to him than it did to her own ears.

“Afraid of the dark? What do you know of fear?”

She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders.

“Do you know what they did to me after Culloden?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “They threw me into a hole in the ground—constant darkness with no window to tell me if it was day or night. I was blind for two days when they brought me out. The only air came through a small grate in the top of the cell and then precious little. And when the guards wanted a bit of fun, they would piss down on me from up there.”

She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the horrible images and tried to turn her head away, but he wouldn’t let her. He took her chin in his hand and propped one foot up on the log. “Look at this,” and when she kept her eyes closed, “
Look!
”

She glanced down at his ankle and gasped. His skin was covered in scars, some faded to a pale silvery sheen, others an angry red. She couldn’t begin to count how many there were.

“Do ye ken what they are?” She shook her head briefly. “They’re rat bites.”

“
Ah
,” she cried.

“I could feel them crawling over me day and night, waiting for me to sleep, then I’d awaken with them gnawing on me. This went on for three months, until I almost lost my mind.”

His image blurred as tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m no’ askin’ for yer pity. I only want ye to understand what real fear is and why I must beg yer indulgence for a steady supply of lamp oil.” He pushed her head away and turned his back on her, his chest heaving as if he were having trouble catching his breath. Then he sank down on the log next to her and dropped his head in his hands.

“I am sorry, Angus. I should no’ have said to ye what I did. I-I didn’t know.”

“No, of course ye didn’t.” He sniffed and pressed his fingers against his eyes. She gently laid a hand on his back, but he shrugged it off. “I don’t want yer pity.”

“Aye, so ye said. But it’s not pity I’m offerin’ ye now. Oh Angus, why must we always be at odds with one another? Can’t we just be friends?”

He turned and faced her, the sheen of tears still brightening his dark blue eyes. “We can be friends when I am no longer yer servant,
milady
.” He rose and headed toward the horses. “It’s time we got back.”

It was another silent ride home, with Emily wanting to say something, anything to take away the hurt she had caused him. But she knew he would reject any further apology or offer of sympathy. She had reopened the wounds to his pride, which she suspected went a lot deeper than the bites of rats.

When they reached the stable, he leaned forward and braced his arm on Tar’s neck. He gave a deep sigh and turned to her. “Milady,” he began, “I…um, I am truly sorry that I railed at ye that way.”

“It’s all right, Angus. It was mean of me to say that to you.” If he noted her continued use of his given name, he said nothing about it.

“Still and all, I should not have spoken to ye in that manner. If ye wish Lord Callander to sell my indenture, I’ll understand.”

“I have no intention of telling him what happened between us today, much less asking him to sell your indenture. It was my fault after all.”

As he helped her dismount, he seemed to hold her closer to him than he ever had before and did not let her go after she was on the ground. She looked up at his face and was surprised to see a ghost of a smile.

“Who was it, the twins?”

“The twins?”

“Aye, yer brothers. Who pushed ye into the river.”

She turned her head away from him, trying to hide her smile. She didn’t have to nod for him to know he was right.

“I thought so. They were always ones for playin’ tricks, even during a war.”

She suddenly became aware of their position and knew that they could be seen from the house. She patted his arm and stepped away. As she walked up the lane, she heard him say, “Perhaps I will teach ye to swim someday.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Not in that cold water, you won’t.”

From his window, Edgar saw them return to the stable yard. He watched Angus lift her down from her horse and continue to hold her, longer than necessary. He noted the smile on Emily’s face and her flushed cheeks. It seemed she had found a way to handle his surly and insolent groom. For a moment, Edgar felt a pang of jealousy toward Angus, but it quickly passed.

Edgar did not doubt for one minute his wife’s love. She showed it in every possible way—their marriage bed being no exception. Apart from his disability, his life was perfect except for one thing—he more and more wanted an heir and he was more and more frustrated that he had yet been unable to produce one.

Still,
he thought,
the fun is in the trying
.

As the weeks went on, Emily became more comfortable managing Edgar’s household. They even received a few guests from time to time—people Edgar had known most of his life, who came from neighboring estates. If they had opinions regarding Edgar’s marriage to her, they kept them to themselves. She heard no untoward comments.

Apart from that, her life began to fall into a pattern. By day, she rode with Angus. By night, she lay in her husband’s arms.

And she wasn’t sure which one she looked forward to the most.