Chapter Fourteen

In the event, Brendon's journey to Inveruglas was uneventful. He managed to secrete the small boat against a little used section of the shore, buried amongst some reed beds.

He certainly didn't relish the swim back to the edge of the loch and appreciated the long walk back to the ramshackle tower he and his father called home even less.

By the time he finally crawled into bed, there were only a couple of hours of darkness left. The midges would soon be abroad again. He had three hours at best before Dougal would be shaking him awake.

Closing his eyes, Brendon felt Fergus jump up beside him and sleepily shifted to make room. Seconds later both the wolfhound and master were sound asleep.

∞∞∞

‘You look like you didn't get to the deuced privy in time,' the Reverend scoffed as he watched Dougal hobble towards him.

‘Tha's summat ye'd be familiar wi' ah'm guessin' wi all that cloth ower yer britches. ‘specially when ye get the back door trots.'

Reverend Shackleford gritted his teeth but did not rise to the bait. ‘If we're to make MacFarlane believe you've got a bad leg, you've got to favour it like so.'

He limped convincingly across towards the old Scot who narrowed his eyes. ‘Ah cannae help it if ye Sassenach God wallopers be better at bamboozlin' than we simple folk.'

‘Simple as in mutton-headed,' the Reverend muttered under his breath.

Fortunately, after a few more turns around the study. Dougal's limp looked sufficiently realistic.

‘Hae ye got the letter fer us tae show the MacFarlane?'

‘It's in my pocket,' Augustus Shackleford answered, patting his cassock.

‘Aye, well dinnae ye lose it, else we'll be haein a dirt nap.'

Before the Reverend could respond, there was a knock on the study door, and seconds later it opened to reveal Peter and Brendon. Both men stepped inside and carefully shut the door before speaking.

‘Have you gentlemen got your story straight?' Peter asked.

‘Aye, enough tae fool the MacFarlane ah reckon since awbody ken's he be off his heid.'

Peter nodded. ‘Dougal, Gifford has left your favourite entry point unlocked, so I suggest you leave now. If anyone sees you, the fact that you're alone should register.' He turned towards the Reverend. ‘Grandfather, are you certain you wish to do this?'

‘Well, now, that's the first time anyone's deuced well asked me. And just what will you do, lad, if I say no?' Peter had the grace to look a little shamefaced.

‘Dinnae fash yerself,' Dougal interrupted, picking up his bag, ‘yer grandda be haein a high ol' time, nae matter what he tells ye.'

The Reverend glared at the grinning Scot. ‘I reckon you've a deuced maggot in your head,' he declared with a sniff.

Dougal simply winked as he headed towards the door, leaving the clergyman gritting his teeth.

‘Ye hae ma thanks,' interrupted Brendon as the door shut behind his father. ‘Nae only fer spendin' more an a few hours wi' ma bampot o' a da, but fer helpin' tae rescue the poor bairns.'

Reverend Shackleford hmphed before declaring gruffly, ‘The Almighty's made it more than clear the children are the reason He brought me here, and in truth, I'm more than happy to be throwing a rub in the way of that varmint MacFarlane.'

He turned to his grandson. ‘Dougal was right. There is no need to trouble yourself on my account. The Lord knew what he was about. Much longer with only Agnes for company and I'd likely have ended up addled.' He sighed and picked up his bag. ‘I just wish Percy was here…'

Peter touched his grandfather's shoulder. ‘Just think of the story you'll have to tell him when you return to Blackmore.'

The Reverend patted the Viscount's hand and chuckled. ‘I reckon one of Mary's mutton pies and a night of free ale'll be waiting for me down at the Red Lion too.'

‘The cart be ootside,' Brendon explained. ‘Gifford hae let it be known in the kitchen that he be takin' ye tae hae a look roond the estate. Once ye meet up with ma da, Gifford'll come back wi'oot ye. It'll be dark so naebodie'll see ye be missin'.'

‘Won't the servants wish to know where I am when I don't come down for dinner?' the Reverend asked.

‘Och, we'll jus say ye be ill in yer bed. If they think ye be boak, they'll nae come near ye.'

‘Just leave me to starve?' the clergyman asked, unaccountably miffed.

‘You won't be in there,' Peter reminded him with a chuckle. ‘And if you're sick, you're unlikely to want much dinner. But don't worry Grandfather, Jennifer, Felicity and I will take it in turns to bring up your gruel...'

‘An by the morra, his lordship'll be tellin' the servants that me an' Malcolm'll be laid up in bed wi' it, so they'll be keepin tae the kitchen as much as they can.'

Peter grimaced. ‘That's a lot of deuced gruel to get through and I can't abide the stuff.'

‘Give it to Flossy,' Reverend Shackleford advised. ‘She's a greedy madam and won't turn her nose up to a bit of slop.'

‘Me an' Malcolm will leave here at midnight an' follow ye tae the MacFarlane Clan home,' Brendon continued. ‘If the bampot haenae slung ye oot on yer ear by then, we'll abide in case ye need us. If all gaes accordin' tae the plan, we'll follow ye tae Inveruglas, stayin' as near tae the mine as we dare. Dinnae look fer us. Remember the signal.'

‘Do you have the field glasses?' Peter quizzed.

Reverend Shackleford patted his bag, just as the door opened to reveal Jennifer.

‘I think Gifford is getting a little anxious,' she informed them. Crossing the room, she impulsively threw her arms around her grandfather. ‘Thank you for doing this, Grandpapa,' she whispered, fighting back tears. ‘Please don't do anything foolish, will you. Mama will never forgive us if we bring you back in a box.'

The Reverend patted her back. ‘Likely your father will increase your allowance,' he countered with a dark chuckle. ‘Look after Flossy.'

∞∞∞

Those remaining did their best to indulge in light conversation during lunch, but apprehension had them itching to leave the table as soon as propriety allowed.

‘I'm going to take Flossy for a walk down to the loch,' Jennifer informed the table in general, picking up the little dog and climbing to her feet. She glanced over at Felicity about to ask if the matron wished to accompany her, but before she had the chance to speak, she caught sight of the lady's white face. Clearly, Felicity was anxious about her husband's role in the rescue to come, and it suddenly dawned on Jennifer that Malcolm was no longer a young man. He'd been simply there for the whole of her life, strong and stalwart. Her father's rock.

Felicity would wish to be with him before he departed with Brendon after dinner.

‘I'd prefer it if you did not go alone,' Peter responded. At Jennifer's glare, he held out a placating hand. ‘Don't be so Friday faced, Jenny. I'm not worried about your falling into the loch again, but given the situation, I would simply prefer it if you were accompanied.'

‘Ah'll go wi her ladyship, if it please yer, ma lord.'

Jennifer's eyes flew to the steward, but he was looking earnestly at her brother.

‘Thank you, Brendon, but that simply gives us the added problem of a chaperone,' Peter answered tiredly. He thought for a second then pursed his lips and gave a determined shake of his head. ‘Fiend seize it, this is hardly London. Yes please, Brendon, I'd be grateful if you'd accompany her ladyship.'

The steward looked towards Jennifer. ‘Will ma presence be sufficient tae put ye at ease, ma lady?' he asked carefully.

Jennifer gave a very unladylike snort. ‘Don't be ridiculous. Since you've already saved me from drowning, I really think you more than qualify as adequate protection. I will meet you at the front of the house in ten minutes if that suits.'

Then, without waiting for his reply, she swept out of the room.

∞∞∞

An hour after leaving Caerlaverock, the Reverend and Gifford finally spotted Dougal waiting by the roadside. As they got closer, the clergyman frowned. Even from this distance he could tell that the horse and cart the Scot was driving was not nearly as luxurious as the one he was currently sitting on. He groaned internally. ‘How long do you think it will take us to reach the MacFarlane Clan home,' he asked the elderly steward, realising he really should have asked the question much, much earlier.

‘Ah reckon ye be there afore the midges eat much o' ye,' Gifford answered blithely.

Reverend Shackleford fell silent. There wasn't really much else to say.

Ten minutes later, the clergyman was seated next to Dougal on a cart that looked as though it had been put together with what leftover bits of wood happened to be lying around. He watched longingly as Gifford waved goodbye and headed back to Caerlaverock.

‘Well, ma friend, it be jus ye an" me. Would ye be partial tae a drop o' whisky tae ease yer arse? Dinnae fash, ye'll nae be feelin' it at all by the time we get tae the MacFarlane.'

∞∞∞

There was an oddly comfortable silence as Jennifer and Brendon picked their way down towards the loch shore. Flossy was sniffing along the trail behind Fergus, keen to keep as close as possible to her giant friend.

At first the steward had walked a respectful few paces behind, but Jennifer soon put a stop to that by turning round and ordering him to walk with her.

‘Dae ye order yer servants aboot in such a manner when ye be in England?' he'd asked drily.

‘Only when they're behaving like a goosecap,' Jennifer answered with a smile, ‘and anyway, you're hardly a servant.'

Brendon lifted his brows and gazed at her with enigmatic blue eyes. ‘Am ah nae? What be ah then … ma lady?' The intensity of his voice had her colouring up, and she had to remind herself that the Scot was no unlocked cub, happy to sit at her feet and lap up any crumbs she deigned to toss him.

Wisely, she refrained from answering. Instead, she pointed to a distant mound in the middle of the loch. ‘Is that Inveruglas?' she asked, hating the now familiar breathless sound of her voice.

‘Nae, that be Inchgalbraith. It were the seat o' ma clan in times bygane.'

‘What happened?' Jennifer asked softly.

Brendon sighed. ‘Backing the wrong side fer the most part,' he answered simply. ‘First agin the Crown, then, two hundred years back, Robert Galbraith o' Culcreuch lost agin the Clan MacAulay, and fled tae Ireland. There be only a few o' us left.' He looked down at her before adding drily, ‘Caerlaverock is built on what was Galbraith land.'

‘Ouch.' Jennifer winced. ‘Should I apologise?'

‘Fer ma ancestor's foolishness? Ah dinnae think it be your fault, ma lady.' He nodded back towards the tiny island in the distance. ‘Inchgalbraith – Galbraith. The island be where we come frae, but naethin' more.'

‘Do you ever go there?' Jennifer asked, sensing he was making light of a sensitive subject. He shook his head, then sighed.

‘Ma da gaies ower tae sit dreamin' o' days long gaun.' He stopped as they reached the edge of the loch and shrugged. ‘Fer all the guid it daes him.'

Jennifer stared at the distant island, sensing it meant much more than the Scot was letting on. ‘So where is Inveruglas?' she asked, going back to their original subject.

‘Th'ower way,' he answered, but ye cannae see it frae here.' Unexpectedly he turned towards her and gave a small bow. ‘Would ye like tae sit ma lady? Ah took the liberty o' bringin' a blanket.' With a flourish, he pulled a large tartan blanket from the bag he was carrying and laid it on the ground.

‘Why, thank you kind sir,' Jennifer murmured, with a gracious bend of her head, taking his proffered hand and seating herself.

‘Some lemonade an' a slab o' tablet,' the Scot added with a grin. ‘Ah ken it be ma lady's favourite.'

‘You ken correctly,' Jennifer retorted with a returning smile. Picking up a piece, she took a large, very unladylike bite and groaned. ‘I doubt I'll ever become tired of it,' she murmured, savouring its sweetness.

‘As Malcolm said, yer teeth'll be tellin' ye when enough be enough,' Brendon commented drily, sitting down next to her and handing her a glass of lemonade. ‘This be Mrs. Allen's speciality accordin' tae Gifford.'

Jennifer took a small sip and nodded in approval.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Jennifer looked back in the direction of Inveruglas. ‘Do you think any harm will come to them?' she asked in a small voice.

Brendon didn't answer immediately, then, ‘Ah dinnae ken, ma lady. Ah've nae doot the MacFarlane will be thinkin' o' the jewellery fer himself. If he's resorted tae using bairns tae dig up gold from an all but deid pit, then ah ken he must be a desperate man. We're takin' a gamble he be too lazy to dae the diggin' fer the jewels himself. An' if there be anythin' we ken aboot Alistair MacFarlane, aside frae him bein' a ne"er-dae-weel, it be that he dinnae like hard work.' The Scot sighed before adding, ‘Mebbe we could hae gaun tae Inveruglas wi'oot the bampot kennin' but ah doot it.'

‘But if he does agree to them digging on the island, he won't allow them to leave will he?'

‘Nae, lass.' Brendon answered simply.

Jennifer bit her lip. ‘Thank you for telling me the truth.'

‘It willnae come tae that. Malcolm and ah'll be waitin' ashore. As soon as we ken the guards hae left, we'll sneak in an' rescue the bairns. Hopefully wi'oot any bloodshed. By the time the MacFarlane awakens, we'll hae them all safe an' soond back in Caerlaverock.'

‘Do you think there will be any reprisals?' Jennifer asked, trying hard to keep the fear out of her voice.

‘Ah dinnae ken, but ah cannae believe he'll be wantin' tae take on the powerful Duke o' Blackmore. Everyone thinks the mine be finished. Ah cannae imagine the MacFarlane will want folks hereaboots tae ken what he's been daein. He'll sit tight in his keep ‘til the dust hae settled. Then find some other way tae get coin.' Brendon paused, then added, ‘If he dinnae, his Clan could be gaun foraye.'

Jennifer knew he was thinking back to the loss of his own Clan. Impulsively, she put out her hand and laid it over his.

Brendon sucked in his breath at the feel of her small fingers against his. Their eyes met, and it was Jennifer's turn to draw in her breath as she recognised the raw desire in his. But she didn't remove her hand. They were so close, she fancied she could feel the dull thud of his heart through his shirt. As if in a dream, she lifted her other hand and cupped his cheek. She saw the very second he was lost, and triumph surged through her body as with a low groan, he leaned forward and covered her lips with his. Instinctively, she slipped the hand round his neck, and leaned into him, marvelling at the softness of his full lips.

But Jennifer knew he was still holding back. While his lips were sliding across hers, creating havoc with her senses, she sensed he was holding himself under iron control. His hands were planted firmly on the blanket either side of her. It wouldn't do. Lifting the hand that had remained on his, she slipped it too around his neck, linked her fingers and tugged.

As she'd hoped, it was enough to overbalance him. Instinctively sliding his arm around her back to break her fall, Jennifer finally found herself lying full length on the blanket, his big body half straddling hers, cocooned in his arms.

For long seconds, he stared down at her, then his glorious eyes narrowed. ‘Ye did that deliberately.'

‘Guilty as charged,' she whispered. This time she really could feel his heart thudding against hers though his elbow on the ground was lifting his torso slightly, keeping them apart. He'd landed with one leg thrown over her, but his knee was pressed firmly into the gap between her legs, holding that part she craved away from her. Everything about him spoke of coiled strength. He was afraid of hurting her.

Jennifer was no innocent. She was aware of what went on between a man and a woman, of the pleasure that could be given and received. But she'd never felt even the slightest inclination to experience it for herself. Until she'd met Brendon Galbraith.

Deliberately, she twisted slightly, lifting her hips, to press shamelessly into … good God, he was huge. Even confined in his breeches.

‘Ye have tae stop … ma lady.' Satisfaction radiated through her as she heard the hoarseness in his voice. If he'd hoped the use of her title would bring her to her senses, he was mistaken. Indeed, she'd never lost them. She simply knew that she wanted this man more than any other she'd laid eyes on, and, God help her, she may never get the chance to feel this way again.

He didn't move.

Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she slid her hands from around his neck and placed her fingertips on the neck of her dress. It took until she'd undone more than half the buttons before his eyes finally dropped. He drew in his breath at the sight of her creamy flesh covered only by the flimsiest of petticoats. Without pause, she took hold of the laces holding the delicate shift together and pulled. Mesmerised, he watched as the lace parted and she drew the fabric down until her breasts were exposed to his heated gaze. Her nipples hardened, seemingly of their own accord, and with a low groan, Brendon bent his head and took one luscious peak into his mouth.

Unable to help herself, Jennifer cried out as instant sensation slammed between her legs. Her arms fell to her side, fingers grasping and bunching at the blanket on either side of her as he transferred his attention to the other nipple. Dear God, she'd never imagined it could feel like this. Gasping she parted her legs and thrust her breasts towards his oh so capable lips, wanting, needing… He rolled the nipple between his teeth and shifted slightly, sliding his hand down her bodice to her skirt, cupping that part of her and rubbed. Arching her back, Jennifer opened her legs further. She was panting now. She needed to be flesh to flesh. To feel his hand slip under her skirts, to touch her there, between her legs. Just where she was burning up.

But instead, he … stopped. Her eyes flew open, and she stared confused as he gently closed her petticoat. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers, a featherlight touch.

‘Ah willnae take ye here, like this, where any who look can see us,' he murmured. ‘Ah want ye more than life itself, Jennifer Sinclair, but ah cannae dae this.'

‘You think I am a lightskirt,' Jennifer declared flatly, watching him carefully. To her surprise, he laughed.

‘Nae, lass. Ah think ye be a rare jewel an' yer husband'll be the luckiest man alive.' He bent his head and kissed her softly, briefly on the lips. ‘But we both ken it willnae be me.'

With that, he climbed to his feet and walked over to the edge of the loch where Flossy and Fergus were still playing.

Fighting the urge to cry, Jennifer sat up and began doing up her buttons. It was all very well to play the wanton, but she realised she wanted what came after too. What should come after. The touching, the teasing, the laughing. But most of all, the sense of belonging. She'd confused love with lust.

She wanted more than just to be bedded by Brendon Galbraith. She'd known him mere days, but despite his certainty that he would not be acceptable to her family, she knew with every fibre of her being that she wanted him for her husband.