Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Kate’s girlhood could be described as perfect, charmed even. Her parents loved one another and, until recently, had loved her. She played well with her two brothers, Francis and Cecil, and again, until recently, they had enjoyed one another’s company. They spent summers together in Cumbria where she met Charlotte and Lily or in London at her family’s comfortable townhouse not far from Mayfair.

Her father was a knight, and along with his title and his inheritance from his father’s mining company, Kate enjoyed plenty of luxuries.

But the MacInnes girls?

Yes, they acted like monsters most of the time, yet they were so vivacious and tedious and interesting. And frustrating. They were a lot of things, all of which she never was as a small child. They had no fear, no consequences. And after five days of being their governess, she was exhausted and drained.

And out of ideas.

Lorna and Maisie seemed determined to send her packing. She wasn’t fooled, however.

“Girls, if you refuse to do your arithmetic, then it’s time to help Mrs. Malcolm in the kitchen for dinner. ”

“Why?” Lorna slumped onto her coursework. “I wish to be climbin’ trees and ridin’.”

“Aye, we havena been ridin’ in ages,” Maisie said, shooting out of her seat to stand before Kate. She clasped her hands together and pouted. “Please.”

“I enjoy riding as well, but I haven’t been hired to be your riding instructor. I am here to teach you.”

“We wish ye’d leave.” Maise crossed her arms.

Kate pinched her brow, her head aching. “I am. I’m taking the afternoon off for a swim.”

Lorna wiggled in her seat, leaning forward with sudden interest. “Swim? Where?”

“You both have to stay at the castle. I was promised an afternoon off.”

“We ken!” Lorna groaned.

“Hope it’s no’ the river.”

“Why not the river, Maisie?”

The girls peeked at one another and shrugged. “No reason.”

With a sigh, Kate pretended not to care, picking up instead. Whatever they were up to, she wasn’t interested in playing along.

“We have to tell her,” Lorna whispered loudly to her sister. “What if she’s hurt? She’s English. She dinna ken.”

A serious look settled over Maisie. “We have to tell ye somethin’. And it’s serious, Miss Bancroft.”

Nothing could be as serious as how much she needed a break. She felt as if she were going mad chasing the two small troublemakers around a big, drafty castle.

“Kelpies,” they said together.

Kate collapsed into a chair, holding back her curiosity and allowing boredom to wash over her features. She wouldn’t allow the girls to think they could scare her away so easily.

“And what, pray tell, are Kelpies?”

“Och, she doesna ken,” Lorna whispered to Maisie.

“Glad we caught ye before… it was too late.”

“Girls, I am afraid to inform you that my patience is wearing thin. ”

“Verra well.” Lorna stood up, and Maisie came around to stand in front of her. “Imagine ye see a beautiful horse by the water. And ye think, that’s a fine horse, now.”

Maisie whinnied and neighed around her sister.

Kate fought back a laugh.

“But Kelpies are vicious spirits that will trick ye. They’ll lure ye on their back by singing or the like.”

Maisie jumped forward, screaming, before grabbing Lorna and tackling her to the floor.

“They’ve magical hides that will stick ye to their back so as ye canna dismount, and then they dive below the water until ye’re drowned.”

“Dead!” Maisie rolled over and stuck out her tongue, blinking up at the ceiling.

The girls paused, waiting for Kate’s reaction to their dramatic retelling of the Scottish folklore. She never believed in such fairy stories before, and she wasn’t about to let Maisie and Lorna believe they could scare her away with a good tale.

“I will be cautious around the river, and watch out for Kelpies, girls. Thank you. But that doesn’t excuse you from your lessons today. If you don’t want to finish your arithmetic, then it is time to join Mrs. Malcolm in the kitchen.”

The older girl snorted a dismissive laugh. “I dinna wish to be taught anything. I’m smart enough.”

“Do you know how to read, Lorna?”

“No.”

“And can you write your name, Maisie? Well, either of you actually?”

“No,” they said in unison.

“There is nothing wrong with learning new things. And if you wish to take over the world or whatever diabolical plans you have, then you will need to read, write, and do basic sums. That much is important.”

“Why, when all we are meant to do is grow up pretty and marry?”

Kate jumped down from the comfortable window bench and stretched. Her whole life she had been a prize, and she hated it. A good match? Ha!

One mistake, and she was tossed to rot with the rest of the undesirables as if she had nothing left of value to offer.

“That is what society wishes, yes. But you should wish to better yourself, first of all for yourself, not for the benefit of anyone else. If you want to buy new ribbons or whatever else you desire, then you must be able to manage money and do arithmetic. If you wish to escape… hmm, what did you call it earlier? Oh, right, your prison here at Dunsmuir Castle, then you must learn to read. A map at the very least.”

Maisie tilted her head, assessing Kate as if she were spouting nonsense.

“Listen,” Kate said, bending down, “if you want to best a man, then you must be smarter than a man. You must be clever but not too clever. You must be beautiful, but you aren’t allowed to try too hard, or else you are vain. You must…”

“That’s a lot of rules,” Lorna complained.

Kate laughed, her chest suddenly feeling funny as her charges looked up at her in horror. “It’s only the beginning girls. I am telling you, learn what you can here at Dunsmuir. Being a woman is hard enough without helping yourself first if you have the opportunity. Trust me.”

“Ye’re pure dafty. Ye learned all this, but ye’re here with us. Why?”

Because it was more complicated. It always was. As a woman, it was her reputation that was completely and utterly ruined. Any hopes of a good match were gone. And Kate was far too young to settle for some older man who wished only to sire children as if she were some thoroughbred.

“And I am leaving for the rest of the afternoon,” she said with a large smile. It was now or never, and it was high time she washed herself.

“Why should we trust ye?” Maisie asked as Kate gathered her books and headed out of the makeshift classroom she set up in the library. The tall room was painted a dark emerald green, and a large stag was mounted over the cracked marble fireplace.

“I guess you don’t have to. I am here to teach you, but it’s up to you if you wish to learn.”

“No, I mean about men.”

“Some other day, Maisie. Now, go help Mrs. Malcolm.”

She dashed down the hall to the chorus of groans, feeling as if her dress was too tight or the castle’s air was suddenly stale. Or perhaps she hadn’t slept enough. Whatever it was, it was odd, and she wished to be rid of the uneasiness that coursed through her.

Thinking of the marquess, of leaving her friends behind, of her employer… left her feeling things best shut away, anyhow. Everyone preferred her cheerfulness as much as she did herself, and ruminating wouldn’t help solve anything. She accepted this position and would make the best of it.

Even though she was very lonesome.

It felt as if it were her against the world, and that was a feeling which didn’t sit well with her.

She slipped out through the kitchens, out through the overgrown gardens, past the crumbling stone walls, and over the moat, to carve out a moment of peace along the tree-lined riverbank. The water moved slowly, weaving its way down from the mountains behind her.

The screech of a golden eagle cut through the air above, and she glanced up, hopeful to finally set eyes on the magnificent bird. But as always, she missed it.

The Scottish Highlands were a far cry from London or her father’s country estate in Cumbria. It was harsh and beautiful, full of contradictions.

Slowly, Kate removed her boots, peeled off her patched stockings, and then her dress. She shivered against the cool late September breeze in her chemise. She neatly folded her clothes and set them aside on the rocks by the shore of the river and grabbed a bar of soap. With her head tipped back to watch the clouds, she slowly stepped into the slow, lazy river relishing the cool water licking her skin as she sank deeper and deeper .

What was she going to do, stuck here in Scotland? Her charges hated her, as did her employer, and it appeared as if everything was well out of sorts. Desperation hung in the air at Dunsmuir Castle, and considering she, herself, already felt that, too, made it a miserable place to be spending her time.

Charlotte would help.

Charlotte always helped. But was it fair to ask her friend to rescue her when she had barely tried?

Kate unpinned her long, black hair and dipped under the cool water. The silence flooded her senses, and little by little, she felt the knots in her body untangle. She wondered what would happen if she just remained below the waterline. Could she push past the uncomfortable burn in her lungs to stay another moment? Another moment still?

Until darkness.

She burst through the water, gasping for air, terrified.

Never had… What was wrong with her?

“Miss Bancroft!” Lorna yelled.

Kate wiped at her eyes, certain her chest would collapse from expectation. Expectation to accept a man’s poor conduct that brought around her ruin. Why must she bear that, and be the one punished?

“Lorna, you are supposed to be with Mrs. Malcolm. Is everything all right?”

Her attention shifted to the figure darting along the treeline, squealing in delight.

“Girls! Wait… don’t take those. Please. Girls!”

“Enjoy yer swim, Miss Bancroft!” Lorna hollered, tagging after her sister with their arms full of Kate’s clothes.

“Girls!”

Kate slapped her hand against the water, furious. The soap slipped from her palm and began sinking down into the murky depths.

Perfect.

She inhaled a deep breath and dove, grasping through the water to find it, looking about as elegant as a duck with its bum in the air diving for fish .

She pushed her body deeper, opening her eyes for a moment to check on how far the soap was falling. If she could swim down two more feet, she could reach it. Certain, she pushed forward until a hand grasped her ankle.

Panic bubbled in her chest. The Kelpie!

She had neatly dismissed the girls earlier, and now the irony was she would drown in this river. A firm grip dragged her backward through the water. She fought against it, swimming downward, trying to secure the soap and shaking off the rude grasp of her body.

Charlotte might have been surprised to have learned Kate was going to be a governess, but Kate bet her friend would never have considered having to write an obituary involving drowning by Kelpies.

The handhold was too strong and pulled her closer to the surface.

“Whoa, lass,” a deep voice boomed from the other side of the water.

It was then she was forced to admit a Scottish burr was deeply attractive.

Kate went limp as Mr. MacInnes propelled her upward. She sputtered, swatting the water and cursing none too ladylike. Her eyes stung, and she couldn’t touch the bottom here.

“What the hell are ye doin’?” he asked.

Not Kelpies, then.

Well, that was embarrassing.

“You made me lose my bar of soap,” she hissed back indignantly. She swam closer toward the riverbank, only then remembering the girls had run off with her clothes. Kate was stuck here, not just in Scotland, but in this river… with him. “I came to bathe.”

“It appeared as if you were struggling.”

She scoffed. “I have everything well in hand.”

He sank beneath the water, then emerged running his hands through his hair so it slicked back off his face. In London, perhaps, she wouldn’t have considered him handsome. But Gabriel MacInnes was made to be appreciated in the Scottish Highlands. She was certain of it .

“Do ye now?”

Kate glanced nervously toward the riverbank, then forced a big smile. “Yes.”

He nodded, swimming around her. She shouldn’t have, but she found herself treading water, staring at the corded muscles of his arms, of his powerful shoulders. This was far too intimate of a meeting. She recognized that, and he seemed completely oblivious. Or maybe he didn’t care, which was entirely reckless in another way.

“Why are you here?” she asked at last.

The water beaded over his creamy skin, kissed lightly with the slightest of tans as if he spent a few weeks oceanside during the summer.

“I swim every afternoon before I head into the village to handle things at the inn.”

“I thought the inn was closed.”

“Might be for good if I can’t get the fire damage repaired so we can reopen. Our village has hosted the Harvest Festival here every autumn for the past twenty years. We must be open in time.”

She swam around him now, her eyes studying the sharp lines of his face. His blue eyes were far too efficient at ridding her of any sense.

“But you are planning for more than an inn, I believe. You wish to open a distillery.”

“I wish to do whatever it takes to restore my family’s legacy. And my family’s illicit whisky was well kent. There’s an opportunity to open a proper distillery, a legal one—that is, now with the recent Excise Act. But my family…”

This man, washed in the honey-warmed sun of a late September afternoon, was a damn crime.

“We shouldn’t be alone here. Swimming.”

“Who will tell on us? And to whom?”

She scoffed again. “That is exactly what a man would say who isn’t afraid of ruin.”

“I’m moments away from being ruined, Miss Bancroft. It’s only that I refuse to give up. ”

“Such fortitude.”

Maybe it was the current or maybe it was that she was studying the curves of his lips a little too intensely, but Kate was suddenly inches from Mr. MacInnes in the water. She felt the ripples of him treading water close by, like a caress which was unexpected and intimate. And she was fairly certain she hated this man.

“The girls took yer clothes, didna they?” he asked finally, a stupid smug Scottish smile plastered across his annoyingly handsome face.

Kate shoved her hand against the surface of the water and splashed him.

“Nae need to be feisty.”

“I think you prefer it that way.”

He dropped his voice, his ice-cold blue eyes somehow filled with fire.

“Why are ye here, Miss Bancroft?”

She swam back, needing space. From the moment she set eyes on Mr. MacInnes, she was pulled into his chaotic world, even if he presented himself as a man of strict control and calm.

“I should ask you the same. You hired me.”

“But why are ye here in Scotland, hundreds of miles away from your friends and family in London? What do ye want from me?”

“What makes you think I want anything other than the agreed-upon salary?”

“Everyone wants something from me, Miss Bancroft. And to be frank, it’s clear ye have no experience with children.”

She shrugged, swimming closer toward the shore, suddenly afraid she would be carried off. The slightest thing lately would make her question why she was here at Dunsmuir Castle.

Freedom.

But how could she say that to a man without being laughed at? The world was made for them, and women were merely the prizes passed from father to husband, voiceless in the course of their own lives.

“I was discovered in a compromising situation with a marquess,” she confessed, suddenly overcome with the desire to study the treeline of the forest surrounding the riverbank. “I was ruined. Eventually, it became clear I was something to be tolerated by the close friends who remained by my side. They have their own lives to move on with. And I had to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If I was going to let a man stop me from living my life, Mr. MacInnes.” Kate turned, studying her employer, certain his next breath would be only out of service to let her go. “So, dismiss me or whatever you feel necessary. I will not hide.”

He scratched the top of his cheek, then cupped water with his left hand and washed it over his arm, examining his shoulder and elbow in the process.

“I feel as if I might owe ye an apology.”

“Feel away, sir.” A soft, sad smile slipped out. She was never one for feeling sorry for herself, but she hadn’t ever pictured this for her life either. She clamped her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes as soon as she realized what she said.

His laugh was a quiet warm rumble that nearly erased the gooseflesh covering her arms.

“Uncle!” the girls yelled.

He whipped his head in their direction. “Christ, it’s always something…”

“Usually, yes,” Kate supplied, still drowning in her embarrassment. “It’s when they’re quiet you should really worry.”

“Or now…” He dove, cutting across the water with such ferocity she couldn’t help but admire the power there rippling under his flesh.

If there was a hell, she would in fact be going. Kate couldn’t even escape to Scotland without letting her thoughts sway to those of the flesh. She was in fact wicked, and wayward, and the most sinful of women.

And she was beginning to think perhaps that wasn’t shameful.

“Damn it, girls! Bring those back.”

“Sorry, Uncle,” they giggled, dashing off with their arms full of his jacket, shirt, and boots.

He slapped the water, glancing back toward Kate .

She shrugged, feeling just as lost as he appeared.

“What now?” he asked.

“I imagine it will be a cold, scandalous walk back to the castle, sir.”

“I could go first and fetch some clothes.”

She nodded, bringing her arms around her chest. She was practically naked in front of her employer and yet staying in the river was no longer an option. Her toes were ice.

“If you could be a gentleman, I will chance the brief walk back.”

“Are ye sure?”

Goodness, the way he ran his hand through his hair. Such golden bronze curls. She knew at least a dozen women in London who would do unspeakable things just to have the same hair. It was… beautiful.

He was beautiful.

“Verra well.” He climbed out of the river, the water sluicing over his back and down his buttocks. She definitely shouldn’t be thinking of his buttocks. At that moment, she wasn’t certain she had never seen a more handsome man in her life.

Her brain simply broke.

“Now walk ahead,” she urged. “I’ll follow right behind you. No looking!”

Mr. MacInnes raised his hands in the air, then slowly turned around, waiting for her by the tree line. “Tell me when it’s safe to go on.”

Kate sighed, shaking off the fear in her limbs. It wasn’t as if this man was even interested in seeing her in her shift. But he was her employer, and she didn’t wish to blur that line and complicate matters. He was much too busy with the rest of Dunsmuir Castle anyhow.

She stepped out, the cool air clinging to her wet chemise. Kate wrapped her arms around her chest to cover the thin, wet fabric from revealing her breasts and kept her head down as she navigated the large stepping stones to reach the shore.

“Lead the way, sir,” she said, summoning courage seemingly from her frozen toes .

Mr. MacInnes slowly made his way through the trees to the small path that led back to the castle, and Kate followed behind.

“What will you say to the girls when you return?” she asked.

It was quiet for a moment, then Mr. MacInnes surprised her with a shrug of his own. “I’ve nae plan for everything they do. I suspect they miss their father.”

Kate nodded to herself, feeling the familiar pang in her chest at missing her own family. Since being discovered with the marquess, they wished never to be associated with her again. And maybe that was for the best if they could disown their daughter so easily after one mistake.

That didn’t make it any easier, however.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s never easy losing someone close to you.”

“Have ye?”

She winced, the memory of her sister’s passing still fresh even after all these years. “I have. My little sister Georgie passed away when I was ten from consumption. She was seven.”

He paused, not quite looking over his shoulder as he said, “Sorry.” Then he cleared his throat. “My brother and I weren’t close. And right now, I think I hate him more than I miss him.”

“That will change in time.” Kate stopped, watching a large bumble bee stumble over the pebbled path. “Wait a moment, please.”

“What?”

“There’s a bumblebee…”

It was so odd. She had never seen a bee circle the ground as it walked. She sank to her knees and studied the creature closer. “You poor darling. You’ve lost a wing.”

Bare feet crunched over the path, then came into view. She gasped, realizing Mr. MacInnes stood before her. But when she glanced up, his eyes were straight ahead, and instead, he shoved a flower in her direction.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Guide him on there. He’s likely hungry. ”

She sat there on the footpath, on her knees, in a wet, sheer chemise in front of the most handsome giant of a man in Scotland, and she felt her heart tip open toward him the smallest sliver.

But that’s all it took sometimes.

And Kate was dangerously close to falling for Mr. MacInnes.