Unlaced by the Highland Duke

‘But you never corrected them.’

‘That would have been impolitic. Celia was always kinder to me when she could look down on me. It was so hard to return to Uxmore...’

His hand rose towards her, but she didn’t see and he clasped his hands behind his back. She was not a child to be comforted. The urge to tuck her against him, the small slight form in Celia’s Awful Dress, and somehow protect her from the bludgeoning of the Uxmores’ condescending charity...

She did not need his help. She had found her own way to survive and hold her own. In fact, she was one of the least downtrodden women he knew. The realisation surprised him. Bella had far less independence—she had always required him as her sounding board, either of his approval or his disagreement, in order to know where she stood.

Jo was... Jo. A self-sufficient island in all respects but material. She needed nothing from him, not really. For which he was very grateful. He preferred his life pared down to its basic building stones. He did not need a grey-eyed pixie widow added to his scroll of responsibilities. There was no room for someone like her in his life.

‘Come, it is time to return. I have business to attend to before I leave for Glasgow tomorrow.’ He didn’t wait for them to respond but swung Jamie into his arms and made his way up the cliff path. He had done his share for the day.

Chapter Seventeen

Benneit stood in the shadow of the trees at the top of the cliff overlooking the bay, watching them. He was tired from the long drive back from Glasgow to advance his plans for the distillery and for the Lochmore ball, but impulse had dragged him out here once Ewan informed him Jamie was down on the beach with Angus and Jo. A week was as long as he had been away from Jamie in a long while and he had felt it—instead of the usual dread at returning to Lochmore, this time he had been restless to come home, forcing everyone to proceed at a frenetic pace so he could keep to schedule.

He should be happy. Delighted, even. Everything was proceeding smoothly. McCrieff had approved the use of water from Loch Tyre and in a few weeks men would arrive to build the distillery and expand the village port. If all went well, in a few years Lochmore might become one of the largest distilleries in Scotland, providing livelihood not just for Lochmore tenants but for the McCrieffs and possibly other clans in the area.

He should be happy.

But as he watched them, his relief at reaching home was shoved away, replaced by a buzzing sensation, like annoyance. From up here they looked like a family of beachcombers, Angus’s tall frame dwarfing them a little as he bent to pick up Jamie’s discarded shoes and held his hand out to take Jamie’s coat from Mrs Langdale. It was a simple, intimate act from a man Benneit trusted with his life, but for some reason it irked him.

Jamie ran up the path to the castle and Angus turned to speak to Mrs Langdale. Once again, she was not wearing a bonnet and the wind was attacking her schoolmistress’s coiffure and, as Angus bent his red head towards her, she raised her hand to push back the straying flaxen tresses and Benneit saw her laugh. But when Angus followed in Jamie’s wake, she remained on the shore, turning to walk back along the shore.

Benneit hesitated and descended the path. There was no real danger, but he had best be certain she didn’t strand herself on the rocks when the tide rose.

He found her seated on his childhood perch, the great boulder carved by years of wind and rain into a natural seat, set high on a rocky ridge that might eons ago have fallen from the cliff side. On days like this, when the sun was shining, it would be warm and nest-like, and she sat curled in it with her eyes closed and her face raised to the sun in utter disregard of all feminine concerns for milk-white complexions. The wind had won the war against her bun and as he watched she pulled out the remaining pins, letting her hair tumble about her shoulders. In a moment she was likely to unravel further, perhaps go up in a puff of smoke, like a fairy-tale sprite.

Before he could gather his resolve to withdraw she opened her eyes and saw him. Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her hair.

‘Welcome back, Your Grace. If you are looking for Jamie, Angus took him...’

‘Yes, I know. I will join them in a moment. Do you like the Devil’s Seat?’