Chapter Eighteen

The air was cool as Clarissa snuck quietly out of Castle Millwool and walked down the drive. She kept looking over her shoulder, worried that someone would take notice and come after her. She pulled her cloak closer and turned onto the street, hurrying towards where, hopefully, Kitt's carriage would be waiting.

The birds were unusually quiet as if they, too, were uneasy with her plan.

She had to admit her nerves were on edge. All night, she tossed and turned thinking about what the day would bring. But in the end, every scenario she conjured up in her mind was dismissed with the fact that in the end, Alexander would be whole again. She could handle dinner with Kitt. She'd been present at plenty of dinners of which were no interest to her. She could attend one more.

For Alexander, she felt like she could do anything.

She would do anything.

A couple walked along the street, arm in arm, chatting happily as they passed. Clarissa didn't recognize them and didn't make eye contact as they passed. They could be acquaintances of Alexander, or even her brother for that matter.

Turning the corner, she spotted a Phaeton stopped, a coachman waiting by the door. She paused, smoothing her skirt with gloved hands. Her heart pounded a steady rhythm in her chest. Her pulse quickened and for the first time she pondered whether or not she was doing the right thing.

Was she being na?ve in thinking that Kitt had only honorable intentions in mind?

She didn't know much about Jacob Kitt other than what she had heard Alexander and Nicholas speak. And of course, she had met him at the ball they had all attended and had danced with him. It wasn't a pleasant dance and Alexander had saved her from having to suffer through another one, but they wouldn't be dancing at his house surely.

Nay, she imagined the man would host a dinner and they would converse.

How that would result in Alexander not having to pay his auction bid, she had no idea. It seemed hardly a comparative offer. She was nothing special. And as has been shown, she had no say whatsoever in the direction her life took. Everything was up to Nicholas, and if Kitt wasn't in Nicholas's good graces, then naught would come to fruition.

Taking in a deep breath, she slowly blew out through her nose, trying to calm her nerves and then repeated the process, before stepping forward and approaching the coachman.

"Miss Gordon?" The coachman moved away from the door and greeted her.

"Aye," she dropped into a curtsy.

"Baron Kitt has sent me to bring you to his estate as requested." He swung open the door and dropped the step. "Please, let me assist ye." He held out his hand and she accepted it and stepped into the carriage.

The door shut with a bang, and she jumped, startled as she settled onto the bench. She glanced out the window in the direction that she had come in to make sure no one had followed her. The street was empty, and she relaxed a wee bit as the carriage started to roll down the street.

Not knowing where the Kitt estate was she had not the faintest idea how long it would take to arrive. As the time passed, her mind wandered, and her nervousness rose. So much so, that the further they got away from Millwool, the more she was doubting her decision.

Nicholas would be furious once he discovered that she had left. And no one was aware of her intended destination. What if something went wrong? What if Kitt had ulterior motives? She had not thought of that possibility afore, but now could see where she could be walking into a dangerous situation.

All she wanted was to help Alexander.

Now she feared that her desperation to help him may have blinded her to the danger of what could happen.

Moving to the bench on the front side of the carriage, she knocked on the wall to catch the coachman's attention. It took a few minutes before he finally answered.

"Aye, Miss Gordon?" The man called.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but I would verra much like to return to Castle Millwool."

The coachman was silent.

"Sir?" She called out a little louder, a tinge of desperation making her voice rise.

"Aye, Miss. Baron Kitt has given explicit orders. I canna turn back. I am to deliver ye as promised."

As promised?She wouldn't necessarily say she promised him anything, other than agreeing to his terms of spending the day with him. Surely, they could reschedule with no issues.

Though the timeline would be an issue. She had heard Kitt's threat to start killing Alexander's sheep if he didn't get what he wanted. And there were only two days left until his threats could come true.

He was a vile man if he thought taking his frustrations out on poor, innocent animals was the acceptable path to get what he wanted. Clarissa couldn't get the image out of her head. Both of the poor sheep and of Alexander's distress at seeing something he cared the world for being destroyed.

Alexander would see it as his own failings, even though that was so far from the truth.

Fine. She would meet with Kitt as she previously arranged. But she would need to be aware of her surroundings. The closer she got, the more she realized the man was completely untrustworthy.

When the carriage finally ground to a halt, Clarissa's heart jumped. She remained glued to the bench as the coachman opened the door and set out the step.

"Miss Gordon," he held out his hand to assist her out of the phaeton, but she remained sitting, making no move to leave the safe confines of the carriage.

All her senses told her to stay seated. Danger awaited her inside. She had never been one to believe in the mystical forces that warned of upcoming peril. But that was what she was feeling currently. A small voice telling her not to enter the estate.

"Miss Gordon," the coachman urged, extending his hand even further. "Baron Kitt is anxiously awaiting your arrival. Ye must no' make him wait any longer."

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a scenario that would get her out of this situation. But none came to mind. She couldn't rush out of the carriage, the coachman was right there and even if she managed to push him aside, he looked to be a strong man that was more than capable of chasing her down if she did escape him for the briefest of moments.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What had she done? With no choice but to go along with what had already been set in motion, she ignored the coachman's hand and grasped the outside of the carriage for balance and exited, stepping onto the muddy ground. She lifted her skirt to try to keep the dirt away, but it was no use as her shoes sunk into the wet earth.

Pausing, she looked at the estate looming before her. Unlike Castle Millwool, the Kitt estate was not welcoming in any way whatsoever. If she had not been brought here and happened upon the manor on her own, she would think the place had been abandoned. It was that unkempt.

She shivered, just imagining what the inside looked like. With a final glance over her shoulder, as if hoping that someone had followed her and would make their presence known before, she climbed the steps and walked into the foreboding building. But no one was there, and out of options, she moved forward.

The door swung open as she approached and Kitt stood in the doorway, a sneer on his lips. His brown hair was slicked off his forehead, making it look greasy, and Clarissa tried to hide her grimace.

"Miss Gordon. I am so glad you reached out." He stepped aside, allowing her to pass and enter the house.

She paused at the doorway and glanced around the small foyer. Much like the outside, it wasn't cared for properly. She could see how, when the former Baron Kitt lived here, the estate would have been impressive, despite its small size. Hints of grandeur were noticeable if you looked beyond the grime, dust, peeling paint, and faded wallpaper.

Remaining silent, her hands folded in front of her, she focused on not wringing them together and giving away how nervous she was.

"Please," Kitt said as he shut the door swiftly behind her, essentially locking them in the house together. "We can settle into the parlor for now." He waved his hand in the direction of the hall, and she moved forward towards where he pointed.

"I must say I was quite surprised at your message. It was most definitely not something I was expecting. Especially after the Duke of Argyll had so vehemently denied my request."

Clarissa sighed. "Aye, sometimes things change."

He narrowed his beady brown eyes and swept them up and down her body, causing a shiver to creep up her spine.

"Right. Well, glad I am of the change if I must confess." He opened a heavy door, the wood splintered on the edges. "Here we are."

Waiting for her to enter, he practically bounced from one foot to the other.

A sense of foreboding enveloped her. Being in his house alone with the man was bad enough. Did she really want to be confined to a small space with him? With no other choice, she moved forward. She had agreed to this meeting and now she needed to follow through with it, no matter how wrong she felt it was.

Inside the room, a small fire was lit, but yet it did naught to take the chill out of the air.

"Would you like a cup of tea? Please, sit. I will be right back with refreshments."

Was he making the tea himself? Other than the coachman who had brought her here, she had not seen any of his staff. Did he have any? If he did, she found it hard to believe they would let the house fall into such disrepair. How long had the estate stood empty, she wondered.

She studied the seats available. Two stuffed chairs were set on each side of the small fireplace. On the wooden mantel, mottled with pockmarks, a dusty vase held a bouquet of dead flowers. Unable to identify what type of flowers they were told her they had expired quite some time ago. She frowned, surprised that Kitt wouldn't have at least cleared those from the room before entertaining company.

A wing-backed chair sitting near a table seemed to be the best choice of the available options. There were no other chairs around it, so Kitt would need to keep his distance. Though she couldn't get herself to sit. She much preferred to stand.

Thinking about that, thank heavens they were not home at Huntly. Word would no doubt travel quickly that she had gone out alone and visited the home of an available bachelor. She shivered. To save her integrity, many would insist that they marry so as not to sully either of their names. She could not imagine such a fate. Or was that his plan?

"Ah, here we are." Kitt entered carrying an unpolished silver tray, the green verdigris prominent on the edges of the metal.

He picked up a white and blue china teapot. The spout was chipped and there was a crack in the belly of the pot that appeared to have been filled in. The grayish-colored spackle seemed to do the trick as no liquid escaped from damage.

"How do you take your tea, Miss Gordon?"

"Sugar and cream, if ye have it, please."

"Of course, I have sugar. Cream as well. What do you take me for? A pauper that cannot afford such luxuries?"

Surprised that he had any to offer her, she was taken aback. "Thank ye."

He dropped a sugar cube into her cup before holding up the small container of cream and poured a small amount and then looked at her in question.

She nodded and he set the pot of cream down.

He didn't pour himself a cup and she got a flash of danger thinking that he may have done something to the tea. Was it poisoned? Would he do such a thing?

Clarissa hadn't the faintest idea and once again, she cursed herself at the situation in which she now found herself embroiled.

Though, it would make no sense for him to poison her. Why say he wanted her here to then kill her? Nay, that scenario wasn't plausible.

She had heard Alexander mention Kitt was willing to barter for items other than money. Though as she looked around the decrepit room, the man was obviously in dire need of coin. What could possibly be more important to him than that?

"I am having a meal prepared for later. I do apologize that I do not have all my staff on board as of yet. But when I received your letter, I put out a call for a cook straightaway. Luckily, one was available and is currently working in the kitchen," he explained, his voice soft.

Was he trying to be charming? The smile he plastered on his face didn't reach his eyes and it seemed disingenuous.

"Sir Kitt—"

"Please, call me Jacob. We are, after all, beyond formalities."

She wasn't sure about that but did as he asked. "Jacob, 'tis no' my place to ask, I fear, but alas, I canna help myself. As ye ken, Alex—the Duke of Argyll," she quickly corrected, "cares verra much for his flock of sheep that ye are currently in possession of."

A look of annoyance crossed his face. "Yes, the sheep. Destructive critters, I must say. Eating up my grounds."

"Aye, I suppose they could be when one isna prepared for them. But are they well?" She asked, concern for their well-being weighing heavily on her shoulders. She did not want to be the cause for any of them to be harmed.

He scoffed. "The amount of bleating I hear continuously confirms to me that they are fine."

She scowled. That was no way to tell. They could be bleating because they are hurt, or lost, or for a plethora of other reasons. She wanted to see them for herself, so she prodded.

"Mayhap after tea we could stroll and visit them?"

"Visit them? You speak as if they are relatives you are checking in on."

She supposed in a sense they were. She just wanted to see them. That way she could let Alexander ken that they were safe.

Had Alexander realized she had left? Or Nicholas? It's possible they did not since they were more than certainly wrapped up in whatever plan they were trying to come up with.

She was happy that she could at least help Alexander. And prove to her brother that she was capable of making her own choices, and that included choosing her own husband.

The men may have not noticed she'd gone, but she would wager that Gwen had noticed. How long it would be before she alerted the others Clarissa hadn't the slightest clue.

*

His affairs concludedat the bank, Alexander drudgingly made his way back to Millwool. Mayhap he should gather his friends and head to the estate in Edinburgh. He shook his head. Nay, he needed to be here. The funds would be available to him in the morn, and he would then be able to pay Kitt his exorbitant fee.

'Twas extortion and they both knew it. But Kitt had him backed into a corner. There was no turning around now.

The carriage jerked to a halt in front of Millwool and he took a moment to compose himself before he exited.

Gunn met him at the door. "How did it go?"

Alexander sighed. "As well as it could when one was signing his livelihood away, I suppose."

Gunn gave him a curt nod, his mouth turned down into a frown. "I ken 'twas a verra hard step to take."

"Aye, 'twas. Though necessary. If ye'll excuse me. I dinna feel in the mood for talking."

He pushed past his friend and walked through the castle and out the back door. As he made his way down the steps that would take him to the gardens and then beyond that, the fields where his sheep had spent most of their lives, he once again cursed Christopher.

Did his brother realize the depths of destruction he had caused? Did he ken the steps that had to be taken so he could save their home? Their people?

He highly doubted it. The only thing Christopher cared about was himself and how he was going to afford the next game, whether it be cards or dice, it didn't matter. As long as he could feel the thrill of playing, he was happy.

It didn't matter that he was endangering everything their father had worked so hard for. His mind was beyond that. He was so selfish. Not caring about anyone but himself.

Gwen emerged from the hedged wall of the garden and smiled at him.

He gave her a quick wave, expecting Clarissa to pop out behind her, but she didn't.

"Are ye walking alone?" he asked, dancing around outright asking about Clarissa.

Gwen smiled knowingly.

She was sharp as a tack and saw right through his farce.

"I've actually no' seen Clarissa today. I assume she is curled up with a good book in her room."

He frowned. That didn't seem right. "Really?"

"Aye," she shrugged. "When I saw her last night afore we retired, she had seemed upset, but insisted it was naught. I dinna ken. Mayhap, she is homesick."

He clenched his jaw. "Mayhap. I suppose we will see her for dinner."

Brows raised, Gwen addressed him. "I suppose we will." She went to move around him, but paused, placing a hand on his arm. Her voice serious, she said, "I ken what Nicholas has told both ye and Clarissa, but I also see him watching the both of ye. He is no' blind to the chemistry between the two of ye." She patted his arm. "Give him time, he will come around."

With that, she left him standing there. He raised his eyes and glanced at the window that belonged to the room that Clarissa was staying in. He hoped to see her standing there, watching him, but the window was empty.

He sighed, sweeping his gaze over the landscape before turning around to head back inside. His plan was almost complete. Tomorrow, he would get the money to give to Kitt for his sheep. The thought of giving the bastard any money at all irritated him immensely, but once he was paid, he had no hold over them anymore. He would leave Clarissa alone, and hopefully disappear.

Disappearing was probably a bit much, but Alexander would be happy if he didn't have to ever lay eyes on Kitt again.

*

"The meal willbe ready for us to indulge in later." Kitt had moved to Clarissa's side, and she found herself cringing away from the man.

He had an off-putting scent to him. A cross between tobacco and body odor and she tried to breathe through her mouth when he was near.

"Would that be nice?" he asked when she didn't acknowledge his earlier statement.

Honestly, she just wanted him to step away, and when he didn't, she moved to the side, but was soon disappointed when he fell into step beside her once again.

Clearing her throat, she brought her handkerchief to her nose to feign a sneeze but took a deep breath behind the pleasant-smelling cloth, thankful she had tucked one into her reticule.

He lifted a brow in question but stepped away to give her space.

"Aye, dinner would be nice," she finally answered. She really didn't want to eat with him. Lord knew what kind of condition his kitchen was in. If it was in the same state as the rest of his house, the meal would leave much to be desired. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She didn't find she had much of an appetite in Baron Kitt's presence.

Had Alexander noticed she was gone yet? She couldn't help but wonder.

"Let us relax and enjoy some easy conversation."

She looked longingly towards the door, willing Alexander to burst through, but naught happened. She sighed and watched Jacob pick two pieces of small sandwiches from a plate that he had brought in with the tea.

He waited for her to take a seat and then took his own chair across from her and handed her the teacup, which was in the same condition as the pot. The handle of the cup had been broken off at one point and had been cemented back on. Small chips on one side of the cup gave the rim an uneven appearance and she avoided cutting her lips on the ragged edges by sipping from the other side.

After a few moments, he asked, "Is everything to your liking, Clarissa?"

She cringed at him calling her by her first name.

"I may call you Clarissa, can I not?"

"I would prefer if ye didna."

With a roll of his eyes, he sighed. "Fine. Miss Gordon," he drawled out her name sarcastically. "I do not understand how you Scots find such enjoyment in tea. I find myself much more inclined to coffee. Tea tastes so bland. I prefer the heartier taste of a coffee bean than a tea leaf."

She held her tongue, unsure if the question was rhetorical. She could not stand the taste of coffee. But she wasn't surprised that was his preference. She had heard that Americans preferred it over tea.

Jacob stared at her, waiting.

"Och, apologies. I thought ye were making a comment. It didna require an answer."

He just grunted and continued watching her drink with his beady brown eyes. His action made the hairs on Clarissa's arms go up. And for the umpteenth time since she'd left Millwool this morning she cursed her stupidity under her breath.

She wanted to escape these walls. They felt like they were closing in on her. Taking another sip of tea, she set the cup and saucer on the table. "Shall we go see the Campbell sheep now?"

"You were serious about seeing them?" He sounded dumbfounded at the idea.

"Aye." She looked out the dirty panes of the window. "Besides, 'tis such a lovely day it seems a shame to waste it being indoors. We willna have many more warm days until the air turns cold and we are forced to stay indoors."

"You Scots are an odd bunch. I had heard you were supposed to be a hardy lot. I think I will be able to handle the cold weather better than you all."

She doubted that, but once again held her tongue. She was only making excuses so she could get out of the house. Either way, she placated him with a forced giggle. "I believe ye may be right, Baron Kitt. I much prefer to spend the cold days near the warm glow of the fireplace." She didn't. She happened to enjoy the cold weather. The beauty of freshly fallen snow. The way it made the forest sparkle. But she would never admit that to him.

Nay. Baron Kitt would never know her likes and dislikes. She wanted him to know as little as possible about her. That was a vow she would keep.

"Very well," he said gruffly. "If you insist on seeing the sheep, we will do so." He stood and held out his hand to assist her up.

She was perfectly capable of standing up on her own, but knew Jacob's ego was fragile, so she swallowed hard and accepted his hand.

"Your shawl is in the other room. Let me fetch that for you and we can leave through the back door."

She nodded and watched him leave the room. Quickly, she glanced around, looking for anything that she could use as a weapon. She had a feeling that sooner or later, at some point before the night was through, she was going to need something to defend herself with against Jacob.

On the table, there was naught but a small teaspoon, the teacup and saucer, the platter of sandwiches, and the tea pot. There was the tray they were sitting upon, but it was too big for her to carry around and it would be too obvious what she was doing.

She needed to be discreet. She studied the room, but to her dismay, there was naught that would offer her any protection.

"Here you go." Jacob entered the room and placed the shawl on her shoulders, his fingers lingering a little too long.

She shuddered, and he mistook her disgust for a chill. "Are you sure you want to go outside? You are already shivering, and we have the fire here to keep us warm."

Her gaze swept to the waning flames of the fireplace. No one was keeping warm with that small blaze. And she certainly did not want him getting the idea that she wanted him to chase the chill away.

"I am certain. Please," she almost begged.

Thankfully, the man was oblivious to anything that didn't serve his purpose and he didn't note the plea in her voice.

With his hand at the small of her back, he pushed her forward to the opposite side of the room and out a door into a narrow hallway. The hallways were much smaller than those at Huntly or at Millwool. Also, opposite of those halls, this one was in desperate need of a coat of paint—just like the other rooms she had seen so far.

They exited the door and stepped out onto the grass. The edges of the blades starting to brown due to the time of year. There were no gardens at the back of the estate. No landscaping at all, really. It was just open meadows. No wonder why he let the sheep roam freely. They could essentially eat right up to the doorstep if they were so inclined.

"Let us head this way." He guided her left toward a well-worn footpath.

Warily looking around, Clarissa sighed when she saw that they were still alone. Nevertheless, she followed, knowing she couldn't do anything about it now. And he was taking her to the sheep, which was what she asked for. For that she was thankful.

The cool breeze loosened her hair from its bun, and she swept at the flyaway strands, tucking them behind her ear. As they neared a hill, she could hear the bleating of the sheep even though she couldn't yet see them.

An hour and a half later, Jacob was looking positively perturbed as she sat in the meadow, surrounded by Campbell sheep with a huge smile plastered on her face. They all looked well. They had been eating the resources provided by the land and Alexander would be happy to learn that they hadn't been sheared. Their woolly coats were still intact.

"Have you satisfied your curiosity, Miss Gordon?" Jacob shuffled from one foot to another.

"Aye. They look healthy."

He scoffed. "Why wouldn't they be?"

Clarissa shrugged. "Mayhap because ye have no experience in caring for such a flock. I was unsure what their fate may be."

He moved close to her, inhaling deep.

Did he just sniff her? She hid the shudder that threatened to rattle her whole body.

"Well, now that you are here, they will be returned to Campbell lands soon."

The louse didn't show the least bit of embarrassment at openly admitting that he had used her as a bargaining tool.

"That is, if things progress as promised."

She stepped away from him, a sense of foreboding enveloping her.