A Highlander's Gifted Love (Blood 0f Duncliffe Series Book 9) Read online

  “Mr. Heath?” she called, tapping on the ceiling of the coach to get the driver’s attention then opening the window.

  “Yes, milady?” he bawled down over the heavy fall of rain.

  “How far to Duncliffe?”

  “Half an hour, milady!”

  “Should we stop and wait out the rain?”

  “No need, milady,” he called down, pulling his hat down to shade his eyes from the drips. “In the woodlands, it’ll no’ be bad.”

  “Thank you, Heath.”

  She closed the window and leaned back in the carriage. It was cold, and she drew her shawl around her, feeling a stab of guilt again about the horses. Trust her, to inconvenience everyone. Was her father right, that she was selfish?

  Any father would be proud of you.

  The words echoed back to her, a talisman. She sighed and leaned back in the coach, trying to feel calm.

  “When we get to Duncliffe, I’ll go as soon as possible to the kitchens, and see the healer.”

  The sooner she could do something to ease her heart, the better.

  The drive wore on.

  In the woods, it was dry, at least, the trees keeping off most of the rain. All the same, it was slower progress along the winding pathways, and it was late afternoon by the time they drew up at Duncliffe.

  “Thank you, Mr. Heath,” she called as he opened the door, holding out a hand to help her down.

  “Nothing, milady,” he said, reddening as he always did. She saw how soaking wet he was and felt a swift compassion.

  “Go and get warm,” she said at once. “And have the horses taken to the stables. It’s too rainy to go back today. I’ll stay the night.”

  “Milady!” the driver’s relief was written in every line of his posture. She felt happier too.

  Father can’t begrudge me staying the night because of rain. And mayhap it’s exactly what I need.

  She glanced up at the sky, seeing how dark and menacing the clouds were. The rain, which had stopped momentarily, was starting again, with renewed strength.

  She nodded to Heath and headed swiftly up the steps towards the entrance.

  “Milady!” the steward of Duncliffe opened the door almost immediately. His brow knitted with a frown. “Come in at once! You’ll catch a chill. Milady would have my head if anything was to happen…”

  “Thank you,” Chlodie said, shivering as she stepped into the hallway. She left a puddle of rain on the stone flagstones. She looked up at the stairs, noticing how quiet the house seemed. “Is your mistress at home?”

  “She’s in the parlor,” he said, taking her shawl and bonnet. “We had some unexpected visitors.”

  “Ah,” Chlodie said, heart thumping. Unused to company, the idea of a large house party of guests made her nervous. All the same, it was her day for unusual things. She’d already defied her father and taken a long coach ride in the rain. A few strange guests were not too daunting.

  Stiffening her back, she headed up the stairs.

  “And then, when I was at the coast, we…oh! Chlodie!” Lady Marguerite, all red hair and high cheeks and smiles, shot up from her seat, mid-sentence when Chlodie appeared.

  “Marguerite!” Chlodie held out her arms and was enveloped in a crushing embrace by the small, curvaceous woman. She noticed an outline of a head, a male visitor, silhouetted against the curtain. She felt a strange tension. There was something familiar about that head…

  “Ah, Chlodie,” Marguerite said, red cheeks flushed. “Allow me to introduce you. We had some unexpected house guests yesterday. This is Lord Domnall, son of the Baron Dunning.”

  “Lord Domnall,” Chlodie whispered, disbelieving.

  There, standing by the window of the parlor, large as life, a soft smile on his face, was Domnall. He bowed.

  “Well met, milady.”

  * * *

  Domnall tried for smooth composure, though inside his heart was racing. The barest glimpse at Chlodie made his body ache. With her neat, pretty figure encased in brown brocade, her cheeks red and flushed from exertion and surprise, red hair disarrayed, she was easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “What a surprise, milady,” he said softly.

  “Lieutenant Dunning,” she said, eyes big with surprise. Her lips parted in a little moue of shock and he felt his hands clench, trying to fight the urge to kiss her passionately.

  He looked sideways, to where Marguerite was looking from one of them to the other, a small frown marking her pretty face.

  “You two are acquainted?”

  “Lady Chlodie saved me…”

  “When I was riding…”

  They both spoke at once.

  Domnall looked at the floor, his heart soaring.

  “Milady Chlodie saved my life,” he muttered into the silence. And she seems to think I helped her too. The thought that she acknowledged his help, too, made him feel at once shy and proud.

  “I see,” Marguerite said. “Chlodie? It’s a pleasure to see you! I’d love to hear all about this remarkable happening.”

  “It’s not that remarkable…”

  Marguerite chuckled. “I’m sorry, my dearest friend! I am over curious, I think. Now, we just finished all the tea that’s to be got out of this teapot, so let me summon our housekeeper. Excuse me a moment,” she added, heading to the door.

  “Chlodie! How is it that you’re here?” he asked, feeling his heart soar. The thought that he’d never see her again had been the only dark cloud on a horizon of sunny things. To see her again was a priceless moment.

  “I could ask you that,” she said, and her lips formed a grin.

  “Well,” he said, trying to hold back on his own wild joy, “as it happens, I was taken in for trespassing. Luckily, by Lord Douglas.”

  “What?” Chlodie exclaimed, then covered her mouth, giggling.

  “Beg pardon, milady. But it’s quite true,” he grinned. “I was just walking, heading north, like you recommended, when we came upon a party of riders. As luck would have it, Lord Douglas led them. So, even though we were detained, no harm came to us.”

  “Your companion..?” Chlodie frowned.

  “Bethann’s fine,” he chuckled. “Stationed in the kitchen now, I’d reckon, and telling me how it’s very paradise.”

  He saw a small frown cross Chlodie’s brow, and then she nodded, smiling again.

  “I see,” she said. “Well, you can take him my greetings.”

  “I shall, milady,” Domnall nodded. “He’ll be glad to have them.”

  “Thanks.”

  They stood quietly. Domnall had to restrain a powerful urge to crush her against him, covering her mouth with his.

  Her eyes held his, their green depths full of questions. He clenched his fists and made himself stay still, keep his hands off.

  “Whew!” Marguerite appeared, sounding relieved. “Apologies for the wait. I had to try and find Mrs. Hume…she was downstairs in the small parlor, overseeing the cleaning. Now. Anyone for ginger loaf?”

  Chlodie turned dreamily to her friend. Domnall had to smile – she looked as distracted as he felt! His poor mind could barely think of anything except the sweet joy of her presence.

  “I’d dearly like some ginger loaf, thanks.”

  “As would I,” Domnall put in quickly. Though they had taken luncheon three hours ago, he was still feeling hungry. The sudden appearance of Chlodie had raised his spirits further.

  The tea and cake arrived, and Domnall took a seat on the big embroidery-covered seat, with Marguerite on his left and Chlodie on his right. He looked up from his plate, watching, amused, as the two women talked.

  “It’s been such a summer,” Marguerite began, pouring her tea. “With Douglas coming back from the south, and then the crops being burned, and the men returning…” she sighed, shaking her head.

  “I understand,” Chlodie nodded.

  “And then Douglas comes back with a whole house party! I was run off my feet for a week, trying to make su
re we had enough supplies for the men, and finding place for all our guests! You’d think that he’d at least have written ahead to warn me of them!”

  “Yes, indeed,” Chlodie said.

  As Marguerite went ahead on another long description. Domnall caught Chlodie’s eye. She was sitting very still, cup and saucer in hand, legs crossed. Her knee was close to his, and he noticed she was studiously avoiding his gaze. He felt his lips lift in a smile and fought the urge to reach across and touch her.

  Under the table, his foot bumped hers. It was accidental, but the touch sent such a sweet tremor through him that, as the conversation shifted from Douglas to the village and tenants, he did it again.

  He saw Chlodie stiffen and bit his lip, trying not to smile as he watched a blush rise in her cheeks. She stayed still. Her foot remained beside his.

  Feeling his heart thud like a mill stone, he left his foot where it was during the conversation.

  After perhaps an hour, during which he said very little, Douglas appeared in the door. The afternoon had darkened to evening, and the fire had burned low.

  “Milady? Are you going to come up to say goodnight to Alexandra..?”

  “Oh! Good gracious!” Marguerite exclaimed. “Is that the time? Excuse me,” she said, smiling at her visitors. “I have to put my daughter to bed.”

  “Of course, Marguerite,” Chlodie said softly.

  Domnall nodded and stood as Lady Marguerite stood, joining her husband in the hallway.

  After she had gone, Domnall remained very still. Any movement, he thought, from her or him, would cause him to leap out of his chair and cover her with kisses, push her against the settee and tear her dress from her body.

  He sat where he was, trying not to move.

  “Domnall,” Chlodie said, her gentle voice making him shiver all over.

  “Milady.”

  He made himself look at her. She smiled at him, those full lips in a wide grin that made it impossible to refuse to smile. He reached out a hand and felt her slip her small, cool fingers into his. He tightened his grip, heart soaring.

  “Milady,” he said softly. “I can scarce believe…”

  “I can scarcely, too, Domnall”, she said softly. “I thought you long gone.”

  “So that’s why you ventured out of your house, eh?” he chuckled. He’d meant it as a joke, but she looked at her hands, suddenly serious.

  “Domnall, you know that’s not why.”

  He cleared his throat, realizing he’d gone too far. “Of course.”

  Her eyes met his, their pale green depths like fields of freshness. He swallowed hard. She was looking at him in a way that was almost an appeal. He knew he would do anything to help her.

  “Domnall, you must take care,” she said.

  “I will, milady,” he said, dropping his gaze. He felt his heart thump at the warning. Why would she say that?

  “Domnall, those men who came to my home. They…if they’d found you, they would kill you.”

  “I know,” he said. His mouth was dry. He knew the danger he faced. He and Bethann both.

  “You need to go away from here. Far away,” she said softly.

  “I’m safe here, for the coming days,” he said.

  “They can’t shelter you, Domnall,” she said softly. “Not for long. It’s too risky. Please. Go North?”

  “I will, milady,” he assured. “As soon as I can.”

  As he said it, he felt his wounds pulling. The skin around the smaller one had begun to heal, and the itch plagued him, if he thought about it. The stench of the festering one had lessened somewhat, and the maid who’d helped him wash them last night had commented that it was improving.

  “Your wounds, I know,” Chlodie said softly.

  “They’re healing, lass. And it’s said there’s a fine healer here,” he added, mentioning what the maid had told him.

  “I know,” Chlodie said, and again he saw that flickering sorrow.

  “What is it, lass?”

  She looked up at him and, to his horror, he saw she was about to cry.

  “Chlodie..?” he whispered. He reached up to stroke her hair. She tensed, shaking off his hand. He withdrew.

  “Please,” she whispered softly. “I can’t…you cannot.”

  He nodded, speechless. “I know,” he whispered at length.

  “What we did…what I said…I was foolish, Domnall,” she said, and, though her voice was soft, he could feel strength in it. “I should not have spoken thus. You must not remember that I did.”

  “Milady, I…”

  “Please, Domnall,” she whispered. “It’s for the best. You must go. Forget me. I command you to.”

  Domnall sighed. He knew that she was right. She was no freer to do as she wished than he had been, when he was in the army. He understood her predicament – he had duties, so had she. He nodded.

  “If you say so.”

  Her eyes held his, and again he saw that mute pleading.

  “Very well,” he sighed.

  She slumped forward. She looked relieved, and he felt guilty. He had been foolish, to behave as he had – taking liberties, as he did!

  “Domnall…” she shook her head, not looking up at him.

  “I’m sorry, milady,” he said softly.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said.

  She stood, and taking him completely by surprise, she kissed him on the cheek. Then, she turned to go, whirling from the room and down the hallway, brown skirts trailing behind.

  Domnall sat where he was. His wound ached, but he barely felt it. He looked after her, feeling shocked.

  I don’t understand what happened.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes. He didn’t understand Seonaid, and he didn’t understand Chlodie, but for a different reason.

  He shook his head. He had felt close to her, in a way he had never felt close to anyone, not even his cousin, Arthur. He had felt as if she could get right inside him, speak directly to his hidden self. However, now she didn’t even want to see him, much less talk – or anything else.

  With his eyes closed, leaning back on the chair, he could hear the household around him. Somewhere far downstairs, someone washed dishes – he could hear the clank as water was poured into a copper sink, the jarring sound of dishes being dropped in. He heard upstairs a soft laugh, and Douglas, saying something. The family was evidently together in one of the upper rooms – he thought he heard a child’s soft talking, but he couldn’t be sure.

  It’s a fine house, this. I’ll be sad to be away.

  It was only two more days he had, to stay here. Then he’d be gone in any case. Like as not he’d never see Chlodie after.

  “It’s just as well we’re not talking, then,” he said, shaking his head.

  It only occurred to him as he left the room that perhaps that was what she had thought, too.

  A NEW PERSPECTIVE

  Chlodie leaned on the wall of the hallway, heart pounding. She had fled the quiet parlor, unable to take a moment longer in that sweet company. Every second she saw Domnall was like pain inside her. She knew that she would lose him soon. He couldn’t remain here.

  And then I’ll have to get used to living without him.

  She shook her head. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she really was in pain. She felt it. She forced herself to open them, to look down at her hands.

  “Chlodie, you came here to see Marguerite. And the seer. Go and do it.”

  She made herself walk down the hallway to the stairs, and then down again to the entrance of the manor.

  On her left, a small, unadorned door gave way, she knew, to a servant’s corridor. She opened it and stepped inside, drawing a breath at the sudden cool air and smell of undressed stone. She walked on down the hallway, silent footsteps echoing on the cavern-like ceiling. Then, as it went downhill, she followed the hallway to a door.

  “…and she wants leek soup, for starters…”

  “Not much we can do about that,” a low murmur replied. �
��We’ve only got a dozen leeks.”

  Laughter, dry and amused, followed. Chlodie tensed, leaning back against the cold brickwork. She had found the kitchen, evidently. She peeped round the door, curiously.

  Inside, the fire burned low, lighting the place with a low reddish light. Two figures sat at the table, a lantern shedding a bright light on their faces, making eerie shadows.

  Chlodie watched them, fascinated.

  The woman on her left was shortish with gray hair, and a kind, weary sort of face. Her hands lay on the table and she chuckled immoderately at something the speaker said.

  The woman who spoke was arresting. Chlodie stared, unable to draw her gaze away.

  “…and if the crops keep on disappearing, thanks to these pernicious soldiers, we’ll soon no’ have wheat to speak of, either…”

  “Don’t say it, Merrick. Don’t, now.”

  The woman – Merrick – was impossible to age. She had gaunt features, and big eyes, slightly slanted at the corners, which were so dark they looked like pools of shadows. Her skin was surprisingly pale, and her brow high and faintly lined. Her hands were long and the joints were just a little swollen from the years of kitchen work. She could have been anywhere from forty to sixty, and Chlodie wouldn’t have been able to tell.

  She seems almost regal.

  It was the way she held herself, like a queen. She sat with her head inclined, listening to the other woman’s talk, but contemplative, as if she weighed each word. She had dignity and a sort of aloofness that froze the air around her.

  Merrick! Chlodie stared in amazement. This was her. The seer.

  Instantly, her heart warmed. Her father had always made her feel the Sight a shabby, shameful thing. As if it was practiced only by barbarous or wild people. This woman was nothing like she would have imagined a seer to look.

  She pressed herself against the wall, heart racing, trying to form a sensible request in her head before she went in.

  “…and there is spinach in the garden. If we pick some of that, we can add it to the main course. And whoever’s out there, listening, you can come in. There’s room at the fire.”