The Lover

The elderly housekeeper eyed Sabrina curiously. “’Tis pleased I am to make your acquaintance, Mistress Duncan,” Mrs. Paterson asserted, “but I fear the laird isna home presently.”

“Do you anticipate his return any time soon? I have been attempting for several days to speak to him.”

“Aweel, he’s been gone the night, but told me to expect him this morn.”

Sabrina pressed her lips together dryly, well able to imagine what had kept the laird out all night. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to allow us to await him?”

“Aye, of course. Come with me, if you please.”

With Geordie, Sabrina followed the housekeeper upstairs, past the minstrels’ gallery overlooking the great hall, to a handsome drawing room. The walls were decorated with rich wainscoting and flocked damask wallpaper, and an exquisite pianoforte of inlaid rosewood stood in the far corner opposite the hearth.

“That fine instrument belonged to Mistress McLaren,” the housekeeper said, correctly interpreting Sabrina’s expression of pleasure. “A saintly woman, if there ever was.”

“Would that be the McLaren’s mother?”

“Aye, indeed. She passed on to her Maker some three years ago, a fierce blow to us all. If you will make yourself at home, mistress, I shall bring you a wee drop of refreshment.”

“Thank you, but that isn’t necessary.”

“But the laird may be long in coming.”

“I am prepared to wait all day if need be,” Sabrina said darkly. When the housekeeper had gone, she settled herself on a brocade settee while Geordie walked the floor restlessly, more comfortable out-of-doors than in the refined environs of a drawing room. It took some prodding to persuade him to tell her of the McLaren family, but Sabrina managed to learn a good deal about Niall’s late parents and brothers.

It was perhaps an hour later when they heard the clatter of horses’ hooves beyond the drawing room window. Geordie stopped his pacing to gaze down at the courtyard.

“’Tis the McLaren and John.”

“John?” Sabrina asked, rising to join him at the window.

“Aye, Niall’s cousin…and a great friend to his da.”

There were two horsemen below, Sabrina saw. One was Niall; the other the brawny Highlander who’d come to fetch him at her aunt’s ball in Edinburgh so many months ago with the terrible news of the laird’s ambush by the Buchanans. The two men had halted before the stable.

Below her, Rab jumped up, ears alert. Abandoning his post by the stair, the great animal bounded across the yard to greet the new arrivals.

It irked Sabrina to see Rab dancing in circles, emitting excited barks of welcome. The McLaren laird had been a total stranger to him until a few days ago.

To her further dismay, she saw Niall stiffen and glance up at the window where she stood. Apparently he had recognized her dog and took no pleasure in her presence.

His expression grim, he murmured something to his companion, who also looked up.

Sabrina stepped back from the window. “Geordie,” she said curtly, trying to keep hold of her patience. “When the McLaren arrives, would you be so kind as to step outside the room for a moment? What I have to say to him is better said in private.”

“How splendid,” Niall muttered sardonically. “A visit from my betrothed. A fitting end to a delightful morning.”

“Do ye require my help dismounting, lad?” John asked.

Shaking his head, Niall swung down from his mount and winced at the sharp ache in his ribs. Guardedly he bent to scratch the fawning dog behind his ears. “I’ll see to the horses, John. I’d be obliged if you would go and discover what Mistress Duncan wants.”

“I’ve nae doubt she wishes to see you.”

“Perhaps, but I’m in no humor to play the ardent suitor.”

As a result of the recent torrential rains, a nearby dam had washed out last night, flooding tenants’ crofts and destroying newly planted fields. Niall had spent the night helping to divert the burn and shore up the dam, but he hadn’t been quick enough to elude a log that had slipped its chains and barreled into him. In addition to nearly drowning in the burn, he’d suffered bruised ribs and a gash in his right hip.

The wound was not life-threatening, but painful enough to cause discomfort. And now, besides lacking sleep and being soaked to the bone, he had to face his betrothed who had come to call.

“I’d deem it a favor if you would make my excuses and send her on her way.”