Chapter Nine

A bigail stood before the daubed residence on the quiet street in Aberdeen. “I thought never to see it again,” she murmured as Kerrick took her hand. “I escaped town with the evening coach after my father was taken to be buried.”

“We can visit his grave when we inquire about interring Rohaise’s bones in my family crypt,” Kerrick said. In the broken walls of Delgatie, once the fire died away, they had recovered a set of women’s bones. She had been encased in the wall either alive or dead, and there was no proof either way. She had wanted to be a Hay for so long, he felt it right to inter her with the man she had been waiting for all those years.

Abigail pulled in a deep breath, her eyes scanning the windows that she’d stared out of her whole life. She wiped off the house key that she’d unearthed from the flowerpot where she’d hidden it before fleeing William’s grasp.

She climbed the steps in her simple blue gown and green cape that she’d purchased after the fire with the few surviving coins Kerrick had found in the wreckage. Kerrick followed her inside, and she stopped to breathe in the familiar scent hanging in the house. It was a mix of herbs, years of baked bread, books, and the soap she had learned to make from her mother. It was the smell of home.

Their boots echoed on the floorboards as they walked toward her father’s library. “William may have sold some things,” she said, noticing a pastoral painting absent from the foyer wall. “I sold some things too for money to travel.” Her footsteps clipped faster as she strode to the library.

“Thank God,” she whispered when she pushed through and inhaled the smell of her father’s old books. They looked untouched.

Kerrick slid the curtains back from the windows, letting in light. Specks of dust circulated in the air. “Ye have more tomes than I,” he said, his smile large as he walked along, bending to read the spines.

Her shoulders relaxed with her growing smile. “I thought I’d lost them. William knew they were precious to me.”

Kerrick walked over to her and touched her face softly. Since the destruction of Delgatie Castle three days ago, they’d slept in the same room at the tavern and traveled here as husband and wife. But Kerrick had slept on the floor despite the attraction that continued to grow between them, seemingly with each glance.

“We will have the largest private library in Aberdeenshire if we… combine them,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, studying his eyes. Combine them? What exactly did that mean?

Kerrick bent his face toward hers, and her eyes flickered closed as his lips touched.

Rap. Rap. Rap .

Abigail’s eyes snaped open, and they stared at one another.

Rap. Rap. Rap.

“A curious neighbor who saw Leum tied up outside?” he suggested.

“I haven’t a clue,” she said, looking down the hall toward the door.

Rap. Rap. Rap . “Lady Gordon?” called a voice from outside.

“Gordon?” she said, her heart sinking at the title she would have had if William were still alive and had forced her back to Aberdeen with his forged marriage contract.

Kerrick frowned and turned, striding down the hall. Abigail followed but let him open the door.

A smallish man in trousers and a tailored shirt and ruff stood there, his head covered by a full black wig of curls. “Has Lady Gordon returned?” he asked.

“There is no Lady Gordon here,” Kerrick said, but the man looked past him.

“A Lady Abigail Lindsey Gordon?”

He cannot hurt me. William is dead . “I am Abigail Lindsey. William Gordon was found dead, lost on the moors and killed by animals,” she said.

“Aye,” the man said. “My condolences.” He unfolded a parchment, holding it up. “You are entitled to his holdings as the benefactress.” He glanced at Kerrick. “There are no provisions for a new husband if she remarries.”

Abigail came up closer, confusion slowing her thoughts. “I do not understand. William had no wealth of his own.”

The man’s brow rose. “He did not inherit until he wed. When the two of you wed a month ago,” he said, holding open another parchment with her faked signature, “his father’s will was enacted.”

“He had to marry,” Kerrick said, and the solicitor took it as a question.

“Yes, to inherit his twenty-thousand pounds and estates,” the man said. “And I was to verify the marriage before relinquishing the funds. I’ve had a runner sitting outside this house for weeks to tell me if there was any movement. Today there was.” He smiled tightly.

“I have to sit down,” Abigail said, unable to catch a full breath.

Kerrick lifted under her arm, his mouth near her ear. “Ye didn’t swoon when a ghost made William stand, so ye will not swoon now.” The humor in his voice helped her inhale as he led her to a wooden bench. She clutched the seat so as not to tip.

The man followed inside the house. “You are Abigail Lindsey Gordon, are you not? Wed to William Gordon within a year of his father’s death?”

“His father’s death?” she said numbly. William’s father had died last autumn. She wasn’t certain of the date, but the anniversary must be quite soon.

“Yes, Lord William needed to marry a woman before October thirty-first and bring her before me, his father’s solicitor, within a month of the date so I could assure he had held his part of the bargain, or else the estate and monies would be given to a distant cousin in Inverness.” He stared at Abigail. “So, are you Lord William’s wife?”

“That is what the document says,” Kerrick said, pointing at the paper in the man’s hand. Abigail managed to nod.

“Very well then,” the man said, relief in his voice. “My duty is fulfilled.” He looked closely at Abigail. “And if my sources are correct, the estate and inheritance are going to someone much… improved over Lord William Gordon.”

Abigail’s heart beat with wings, hope filling her. Twenty-thousand pounds . William had to marry to receive his inheritance, and no sane woman would agree.

And his forgery of her name had made her the beneficiary of it all.

The man shook Kerrick’s hand. “I will be by tomorrow with papers to sign and the keys to Gordon’s three estates.”

“Thank ye,” Kerrick said, ushering him out. The door clicked, and Kerrick returned to Abigail. He crouched before her and took her hands. “Are ye well, Abigail?”

She looked at him and blinked, her smile spreading across her face. “We can rebuild, Kerrick.” She swallowed. “I will sell two of William’s estates, and we will use the money to rebuild Delgatie Castle.” She stood slowly, and he did too. She grabbed his arms. “Even without your father’s money, we can make the land turn a profit. Maybe not this year but next.”

He looked down into her face. “’Tis your money, not mine.”

Her lips pinched tighter. “Then I am investing it in you, Kerrick Hay. I am investing… all of me in you,” she said, her voice softening. Had she said too much? Would he not want her? “I… I want us to be together,” she said.

A smile grew slowly across his handsome face. “Together?” he said, and she nodded. “Are ye courting me, Abigail Lindsey?”

She couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her own face. “Perhaps I am.”

Kerrick’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his warmth. His mouth came down to hers, kissing her with all the joy that came with hope. She held onto the back of his neck and slanted her face to deepen it. The kiss was familiar and tantalizing, and full of a future that Abigail would completely embrace.