“This is very strange,” Tysen said as he clicked Big Fellow forward. “I don’t know your name.”
“Mary Rose Fordyce.”
He felt a pooling of pleasure at the sound. “A musical name,” he said. “This man you thought was chasing you, who is he?”
“Erickson MacPhail, a man who used to be my friend,” she sighed. “My uncle wouldn’t like it were he to know that I do not like Erickson now and I had told someone that he was profligate.” Another sigh. She said, “Here I am sitting on a man’s lap on top of his horse with my arms wrapped around him. I’ve never done this before.”
“I have never before held a woman on my lap atop my horse either,” Tysen said, looking right between Big Fellow’s ears, ignoring the feel of her hair against his chin. “We shall both have to overlook it as a brief, necessary confusion. Who is this Erickson MacPhail? Why does your uncle like him?”
“He’s a neighbor. Whenever I am out walking I must pay constant attention. This time he came along by chance, but in the past I know he’s waited for me. Perhaps he was waiting for me this time as well. I do wish he would just leave me alone.”
“Why hasn’t your father or your uncle warned him off if you do not wish to be in his company?”
“I don’t have a father. My mother and I live with my uncle and his family. I think my uncle wishes he was Erickson’s father. Uncle Lyon admires him, thinks he’s brave and braw—that means ‘handsome,’ you know—and ever so charming. He does not understand that I don’t want to be mauled by him, which is what he does, given the least opportunity.”
“I’m sorry about your father. I lost my father when I was a lad of eighteen. I still miss him. The one and only time I was ever here at Kildrummy Castle, he brought me, just the two of us. It was a fine thing, having him all to myself.” Again—he’d done it again. Spoken freely, just opened his mouth and let words fall out that hadn’t been approved by his brain.
She said nothing, just nestled closer and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“That’s right, we’re nearly there. Just lie quietly. There’s Oglivie opening the gates.”
“Laird, what is the matter?” Oglivie called out.
The Scottish title gave him a bit of a start, but there was no way around it—he was a laird and a baron now. “The young lady took a fall.”
Tysen thought Oglivie said something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He said against her hair, “Just a few more minutes and you’ll be more comfortable.” Her hair was soft, smelled of the sea and the pine forest and something else he couldn’t identify. Roses, perhaps?
As Big Fellow passed through the wide wooden gates into the enclosed courtyard, he said, “You don’t have any brothers?”
She shook her head against his jacket. “Just my uncle.” He left it, but it wasn’t right. He imagined a man bothering Meggie in five or so years, and a surge of intense rage roared through him. It made his heart pound, made him blink several times. Rage was something he’d never really visited before. It was something dark and vibrant, with a life of its own, all black and ugly. It pulsed violently inside him and made him cold.
He looked up to see the housekeeper standing on the top step to the castle. “Mrs. MacFardle,” he said, “I am glad you’re here. We have a young lady in need of some care. She hurt her ankle.”
He tossed Big Fellow’s reins to MacNee and very carefully eased out of the saddle, trying not to touch the painful ankle. “Perhaps,” he said, “we should fetch a doctor to see to it.”
“Mary Rose, och, is it you? What is this about, my girl?”
“I fell into one of the sheep killers.”
“Ye must take a care with those blasted cuts in the ground. Well, bring yerself into the castle and I will see what ye need. My lord, just set her down and I will help her. No need for a doctor.”
Tysen ignored her and carried Mary Rose into the main drawing room, a nice room that, despite its size, felt welcoming and cozy. But like the dining room, it was too dark. He would ask Sinjun for advice on wallpaper. Perhaps a pale cream and green stripe. No, that wouldn’t work because the wooden walls were covered with countless paintings of long-dead Barthwicks and a series of beautifully worked tapestries showing Mary, Queen of Scots, from a child married to a French prince to the woman leaning down about to have her head severed from her body.
Perhaps he would ask Mary Rose. He laid her on one of the long, soft, gold brocade sofas and stood back. Mrs. MacFardle moved in. “Well, now,” she said, “at least ye got yer boot off.” She leaned over Mary Rose, clasped the ankle between her two big hands, and pulled.
Mary Rose yelled and lurched off the sofa.
Tysen was appalled at what the housekeeper had done. He said as he elbowed Mrs. MacFardle out of the way, “I have a way with sprains. If you will fetch some ice, ma’am, we will wrap it in towels around her foot. Ah, is there ice to be had in August?”
“Perhaps a bit,” Mrs. MacFardle said and got to her feet, panting a bit. “Ye come to the kitchen with me, my girl, and I’ll tie a wee bit of ice around yer ankle. Then ye can be off, back to Vallance Manor. Och, look here, it’s the little miss, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Meggie said, walking into the drawing room. “Papa, what’s wrong? Who is this lady with her foot without its shoe? Oh, I see, she’s hurt. Goodness, your poor ankle. I know exactly what to do. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Leo is always scraping himself and straining this and that. Bring the ice, Mrs. MacFardle, immediately.”
Mrs. MacFardle harrumphed, gave Mary Rose a long look, and took herself off.
Tysen stood back and watched his daughter sit down beside Mary Rose. With the lightest touch imaginable, she lifted Mary Rose’s foot onto her lap. “This is very impressive,” Meggie said, leaning down to eye the swelling. “Leo would be envious. Oh, Leo is my brother. Your name is Mary Rose? That is quite lovely. I’m Meggie. Margaret, really, but that sounds like a saint, which Papa says I will never be even if I begin a strict regimen of good deeds at this very moment, which, I must tell you, isn’t at all likely to happen.”
“Meggie, we don’t have saints in the Church of England, so it is irrelevant.”