Bride of the Solway (16 page)

'Ye certainly seemed to be becoming fast friends, Miss Cassie, when ye was talking about the colonel's new garden. '
Twas
as if ye'd
kent
one another for years. He's taken rather a liking to ye, I'd say, probably because ye ken sic a lot about plants and gardens. It seems to be a passion with him. '
Tis
only a pity that his
leddy
canna
leave the house to be there with the both o' ye.'

Cassie shook her head fiercely at her maid. That was exactly the wrong thing to say. James must not be reminded of the existence of
Mrs
Anstruther.

'Perhaps there will be another opportunity to further our acquaintance,' Cassie said quickly. 'I should certainly like to learn more of the colonel. He is very much the gentleman. And so knowledgeable. Do you know, Morag, that he was reciting the history of Sweetheart Abbey over the breakfast table today? His knowledge far outstrips mine, I must say, even though I have read a great deal about such places.' 'But ye've not been to the abbey.'

'No, that is true. It is too far. It would be a long journey and James is too busy to give up so much time to accompany me. For a visit closer to home, however, it might be possible for him to spare the time. In fact, he might even permit me to join the colonel without his escort. Colonel Anstruther is, after all, a perfect gentleman and can be trusted to behave
honourably
. And I would have you to chaperon me, naturally.' She glanced sideways to see whether her brother was listening. She was almost sure he was.

'Well, ye'd best hope that the colonel
wisna
offended by yer refusal of his invite the day, Miss Cassie. Maybe he'll not be making another.'

'That would be a pity. I should so hate to lose his friendship. It is seldom that one meets a true gentleman hereabouts. And the colonel is certainly one.'

'Aye, he is that. So ye'd best take care not to turn down another invite.'

Cassie nodded. 'I'm sure you are right, Morag. I shall...er...I shall mention it to my brother, I think. I know he holds the colonel in the highest regard. I am sure he would not like to lose the acquaintance of such a man.'

Morag was asking with her eyes whether the charade was to continue. Just at that moment, however, the carriage turned off the road on to the
Langrigg
estate and James spurred his horse in the direction of the house. It was over.

For now.

'Cassie, would you
favour
me with a few moments of your time?'

Cassie paused halfway up the staircase, struck by the politeness of James's request. 'Of course, James. If you will allow me time to change my clothes, I will—'

'Now, Cassie,' he snapped, taking a step into the hallway.

Just that single step seemed menacing. Cassie turned, assuming what she hoped was a confident smile. 'I will come immediately, since you wish it.' She walked calmly back down the stairs and into the little
parlour
.

'About Colonel Anstruther.' He began to pace.

Cassie took a seat by the empty grate and smoothed her skirts,

'You were very remiss in your dealings with him this morning. Ho was offended by the way you refused his offer.'

Cassie smoothed her skirts again, pleased to see that her hands were not shaking. 'Think you so? Oh, dear, how very stupid of me. It was certainly not my intention. I could see that you were against the visit, so I thought that it would be better if the refusal came from me. He could hardly pursue the matter once a lady had made her excuses.'

'No, he could not. But he could conclude that you were a
mannerless
harpy. Because of your stupidity—you do well to admit it—he may ail the acquaintance altogether. And then where will you be?'

Cassie ignored his last question. 'Forgive me, brother. Did I misread you earlier? I was so sure you
misliked
the idea of spending a day al I he abbey. If I had—'

'Of course I
misliked
the idea. There are a million better ways of passing the time than trailing around after a milksop sister and two jaw-me-dead soldiers clambering over ruined piles of stone.'

'Then—'

'But you, of all people, should have known better than to offend Anstruther by assuming that I would not permit you to go.' 'Oh, does that mean—?'

'It means that I require you to seize every possible opportunity for furthering your acquaintance with Anstruther. Good God, Cassie, even a chit like you should be able to see that the man is not going to ask for l he hand of a woman he never sees. Do you understand that? Or are you completely witless?'

Cassie bowed her head. 'I am sorry if I have been stupid. And even more sorry if I have offended Colonel Anstruther. But I don't quite understand... What should I have said?'

He stopped pacing and planted himself in front of her chair, legs apart and hands on hips. 'If you had been less direct, had shown a becoming degree of interest in the expedition, you would have made it possible for me to say you could go with my good will, provided you were properly chaperoned. I would have been able to show that I trusted the colonel's honour, as a gentleman, to take care of you in my absence. My unavoidable absence.' James was now working himself up into a real temper. 'The colonel would have been flattered by my confidence. But you, you stupid girl, you prevented it. By Jove, I wonder why I still have patience with you. You thwart my plans at every turn.'

'I am sorry, James,' Cassie said meekly. 'I meant it for the best. Truly. Perhaps the colonel will issue another invitation to me? He did mention something of the sort.'

James narrowed his eyes and muttered something inaudible.

'Am I to take it that, if he should issue another invitation, you would wish me to accept?'

'Good God, is it not obvious? Of course I would wish you to accept, you stupid girl. You are to find ways of fixing the colonel's attentions. And soon. If he should invite you again, you will go. Whatever the destination and whatever the weather.'

'Oh.'

'Do you understand me?'

'Yes. I am to accept any invitation.'

'I'm glad to see that you understand your duty at last, Cassie. It has taken you long enough. But you always were a mutton-headed wench.'

She looked up at him, keeping her face expressionless. 'Would you wish me to accept for you, too?'

He shook his head angrily and resumed his pacing. 'No, of course not. I'm not going to dance attendance on Anstruther until I know the battle is won. Besides, he doesn't like me above half. Especially after— I'm better out of it. You'll take our own carriage, with Tarn on the box, and Morag beside you as chaperon. That will be enough.'

She nodded, not daring to lift her eyes to his, lest he see the triumph in them.

'You'd better start praying that another invitation does arrive, my girl. Or I promise you that your life here will not be worth living.'

Cassie said nothing more. She rose and made her way quietly to the door, keeping her gaze demurely lowered. But inside, her heart was dancing. Victory had come so much sooner than she had dared to dream. Her plan was working. And she knew she could rely on Captain Graham to
fulfil
his part.

Soon she would have her chance to escape.

Ross continued his wandering around the ruins. He was glad that he had come alone. The colonel would have been a source of much interesting information, of course, but Ross was more than content to be alone with his own thoughts.

He stood looking down the nave and into the presbytery where only the delicate tracery remained of what must have been a most beautiful window. If there had been stained glass, it was now replaced by the piercing blue of the summer sky. It might have been gloomy here, once, but now the roofless building was filled with light. Such an amazing ruin. And begun—according to the colonel—because
Devorguilla
, Lady of Galloway, had chosen to build a Cistercian abbey here as a lasting memorial to her beloved husband, John Balliol.

Ross walked slowly down the nave, though it was a grassy sward now. Somewhere here, the Lady
Devorguilla
was buried, along with the casket that contained her husband's heart. Ross stopped when he reached the threshold of the presbytery. The lady's grave must be somewhere here, where the altar would have stood. Ross would not tread on it. Let her sleep in peace.

He wandered back into the nave and then out into what had once been the cloister garden, skirting round the new church that leant against the side of the long wall. The church was a neat enough building, but totally out of keeping with the stark grandeur of the ruins. He strolled round to the east end of the abbey from where the new parish church could not be seen. Ross much preferred to see only the gaunt beauty of the abbey's red sandstone against the stark blue of the sky.

Why had be come here? He was not altogether sure. Possibly because of an interest sparked by the colonel's knowledgeable discourse. Or was it perhaps Miss Elliott's rather wistful description? A woman's love so strong and enduring that she would build an abbey to it. Was it possible for such a love to exist nowadays? After Julie, he had thought it was impossible. Yet he hoped he was wrong, for the sake of his friend Max, if not for himself. Ross did not expect to find love. Not now. Not after Julie's betrayal. How could he ever trust another woman?

He
realised
, with surprise, that Julie's image was fading. When he had left London, he had been unable to think of her without pain. Now he barely thought of her at all. What did it mean?

He shook his head, wondering at his own fickleness. Was it only a few weeks ago that he had sworn eternal fidelity to Julie in his heart? He sat down on a block of sandstone and dropped his head back for a moment to stare up at the sky. For once, there was not a single cloud to be seen. It might have been the south of France rather than the south of Scotland. He had first laid eyes on Julie against just such a pure, fierce sky. The picture she made had taken his breath away. Was that the reason why he had fallen in love with her?

He could not deny that Julie was a fine young woman—beautiful, brave and steadfast. Rather like Cassie Elliott, in fact. Both women had endured great hardships. Both women were worthy of a man's regard.

And yet there was a difference between them. He could see that now. Julie had been deceiving him. She had used his help, and his escort, to escape to her lover in England and to regain her noble status. It was Ross's own fault that he had been used, for he had been so besotted by her beauty and her courage that he had not asked even the most obvious questions. She had played him for a fool. He had put her on a pedestal, like a fine marble statue, and refused to see the slightest hint that the precious stone might be cracked.

Cassie Elliott, by contrast, could never be put on a pedestal. She was much too alive, much too real. Oh, she was beautiful—no doubt on that score—but, equally, she was damnably hot at hand. Yet she was honest through and through. She would never use Ross, or anyone else. Not in a way that was deceitful. She was the kind of woman, like the Lady
Devorguilla
, who would give her heart, fully and for ever.

The man who could win Cassie's love would be fortunate indeed. For the first time in his life, Ross felt a tiny flicker of regret that he lacked the wealth and family that made a man a good catch. II he could have paid James Elliott's price for his sister, would he have done so? He shuddered. No. Never. Such a thing would be depraved, and wicked. He sides, Ross was not in search of a wife. And Cassie Elliott was not in the least suitable, even if he were. What gentleman would marry such a headstrong girl, with no dowry and a blood-sucking drunk for a brother? Cassie Elliott was probably destined to die a spinster, in spite of her remarkable qualities.

That unhappy thought sent a momentary shaft of pain through Ross's body. Poor girl, to be denied a home and children, simply because of a blackguard like James Elliott. She deserved better, did she not? Her behaviour was sometimes improper, to be sure, but it was Ross who had almost forced her to accept his escort when all she had wanted was a small loan. Now he was totally committed to helping her, but that was Ross's doing, not Cassie's. Indeed, something very similar had happened with Julie when—

A tiny seed of doubt began to take root. Was it possible that Cassie had contrived the situation, knowing that Ross was bound to offer to help her? Was she using him, as Julie had done?

No, it could not be true. Cassie was not like Julie. He was sure of it. Almost.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, searching for the soldier's solution. It came. As ever, it was simple. He must keep his promise, but he must also ensure that he did not become personally involved with Miss Elliott's troubles. He would simply escort her to her godfather's house and leave her there. And he would maintain a proper distance between them throughout.

He looked up at the sky again. The
colour
no longer seemed pristine The sun had lost its warmth. His friend Max had been fond of joking that Ross was the one who could always see the sunshine and the good in everyone. Max had been the one to see the black side. Now, after Julie. Ross was beginning to ape his friend. Love—unrequited love—was de finitely a hard taskmistress.