Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) by Angeline Fortin (whitelam books .TXT) 📗

“Congratulations for what?” she asked, trying to calm the racing of her heart after such a start.

“Why for driving my dear, dear sister absolutely insane, of course,” she drawled, flicking out a fan with the snap of her wrist. Peeking out the window, she wafted it slowly. “She was never quite like this before, you know? Angry, of course. She’s been forever angry since she wed Robert MacLeod. I would wager he either keeps a mistress and doesn’t see to Maeve’s needs properly or he beats her.”

Were there no other options, she wondered? She was no psychologist, but it seemed to her Maeve was deeply depressed and lashing out rather than simply crazy or married to a bad person.

“She lost many a bairn, too, before Marcas was born.”

Marcas must have been the one who’d died recently. But there had been more? Her annoyance with Maeve’s behavior began the slide into sympathy.

“He was the only one to survive childhood. Sad really. I never had any children of my own but I’d think if I had, each one would have had the good sense to grow to adulthood.” The fan stilled and Ceana stared down at her thoughtfully. “Have you any children, Miss Maines?”

“No, I’ve never been married,” she pointed out. “Hence the miss.”

Ceana chuckled at that. “As if one needs a husband to bear a brat. But of course you’ve never wed. Your sense of style is deplorable. Ye’ll never get a man dressing in those rags.” She fingered the MacCoinnach tartan shawl Al had thrown over her plain dress. “Especially not one under this roof.”

Not subtle, but she wasn’t surprised. “I can assure you, I’m not looking for a husband. Under this roof or any other.”

The fan began to wave once more. “Oh, la, Miss Maines! Don’t sell yourself short. Why, I could dress you properly and take you to court. You could snap up a minor lord, perhaps even a baronet with the right tutoring.”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“You’re sure?” she asked. “After all, you can’t expect to stay at Dingwall forever.”

Al couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Most every conversation she’d had with Ceana—brief as they were—ended up in this direction. It was like being a teenager again with her mother and stepfather telling her she would never be pretty enough to get a boyfriend. Or smart enough to make up for it.

“I’m well aware.”

“Even if my cousin is interested in keeping you around for now. For his particular amusement, I suppose.”

There it was.

For a second she would have given anything for Ceana and Maeve to switch places. Either way, it felt as if there was a knife aiming for her back.

Was the whole family like this? Spiteful and mean? If they were, what kind of man had she helped set loose on Tacoma?

No, Hugh couldn’t be like this. Even Keir’s tolerance for such cattiness couldn’t last long.

Turning away, she descended the stairs with Ceana’s shrill laughter trailing behind her. She hated that she looked like she was running from the woman. Even though she was. Ceana was intolerable. It was either seek out Keir or return to the haven of her bedroom to avoid her.

One was far more pleasant than the other.

He’d disappeared into the castle after the carriage left. Seeking help in locating him, she followed Archie on a fruitless search. Briefly, she wondered if the old retainer even remembered who they were supposed to be watching for.

Surprisingly, they eventually found him in the dark-paneled study. Normally he preferred the brighter, bigger library. He sat at his desk, once more writing as if the hounds of hell were driving him. He’d shed his coat, his linen shirt straining across the broad width of his shoulders as he hunched over his work. His thick, untamed hair falling over his forehead before he shoved it back impatiently.

Her fingers itched to dive into the curly locks, comb them back so she could see his gorgeous face. Not that she would but she still hated to interrupt and tried to slip away unnoticed. Archie took it upon himself to announce her.

“Ye’re up.”

There was gladness in his eyes that warmed her but some surprise in his voice. Since it was almost noon, she had to wonder at it. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I only assumed ye’d need more rest following yer injury,” he said, pushing back his chair and rising. As if she might need assistance. “Already ye’re breathless from exertion.”

Or maybe the sight of him, she wanted to counter. Would she ever be able to see him and not experience a rush of awe?

“I’m only breathless because I was in such a hurry to escape your cousin,” she said.

“Hae I a need tae send Ceana away now as well?”

Oh, would he? She longed to say yes, but didn’t want him to worry about her. “No, she’s no threat, just annoying.”

He waved her into the room and held out a chair near his at the desk, just as he’d done before. Gladly, she joined him.

“What is with her though? Maeve I get. At least a little, but even she is baffling.”

“What aboot them?”

“For all Maeve’s… um, let’s call it expressive anger last night, she didn’t seem all that sad about Hugh’s supposed death. Angry. Righteous even, but not sad. And Ceana! There’s no broken heart there. Not even crocodile tears. It’s her brother. I don’t get it.”

“Are ye attached tae yer siblings, lass?”

“I don’t have any.”

He harrumphed, reclining in his chair. “Mayhap things are different in yer time. ‘Struth, Ceana, Maeve, and e’en Mathilde hardly know Hugh. They are all older than he. Plus, he was fostered oot tae the MacDonald of Glendenning wi’ me when we were only lads of eight years. By the time he was old enough tae be of interest tae them, they were married off and gone. Truly, they dinnae ken enough aboot him tae hae a caring for him.”

“Yet, they were here,” she pointed out.

“Aye. They were