Seduced by a Rogue (35 page)

His lordship’s face was nearly purple. His entire torso shook with his rage.

“My lord, pray calm yourself,” Rob urged. “I swear to you, I condemn what Will Jardine has done and would help set it right.
By my troth, sir, if you will allow me, I would ride with you and lend my strong sword arm to your cause.”

“Nay, then! But ye
will
get yourself hence from here as fast as ye can go! I have nae need of such help as yours. Nor would I be fool enough to trust
that ye’d aid me against a Jardine.”

“Father, prithee,” Mairi said.

“Nae more talk,” he said. “I must go. But before I do, lass, ye should ken this much. I turned that Flory girl off for aiding
your sister, so dinna be taking her back again! And, to protect ye, lest I fail to end Will Jardine’s mischief—aye, and Will
Jardine, too—I altered my will to leave this house and its estates nae longer to Fiona but to ye as my heiress unless the
babe my lady wife carries proves to be male.”

“But, sir—”

“Nay, Mairi,” he added fiercely. “By the
Rood
ye must promise me, lass, that if aught should happen to me, ye will
not
sign over this house or any of its lands to Fiona as long as she is with any man o’ that villainous tribe!”

“I do promise, my lord,” Mairi said solemnly. “But you should not ride as you are, sir! In troth, you do not look well. Art
so sure our Fiona left willingly?”

“Aye, because the daft lass met with that scoundrel dunamany times these past weeks—sakes, even afore ye left us,” he retorted
as if, Rob thought, his lordship blamed Mairi for her sister’s mischief.

He nearly spoke up to defend her, realized he would only make things worse, and kept silent. It made no difference, because
Dunwythie rounded next on him.

“You!”
he exclaimed, pointing a shaking finger. “This be all on your head, yours and your thieving brother’s heads both! Trying
to turn all here upside down to your own benefit, and from nowt but greed. Greed for power, greed for
gelt
! ’Tis all that matters to Maxwells and their sort! May God curse them all from now through eternity. And Jardines! May
they
be twice cursed beyond Maxwells as—”

He was screaming the curses. But as the stream of words broke, he looked at Mairi with his mouth still open.

She reached toward him, clearly meaning to soothe him.

Rob moved to stop her, fearing he knew not what from his lordship in response, yet something.

But the man only gaped at her glassy-eyed for a too-long moment before he crumpled to the ground.

Rob heard Mairi cry out as he dropped to one knee beside Dunwythie.

His lordship’s eyes were fixed, still staring. His breathing had stopped. When shaking him drew no response, Rob felt for
his lordship’s neck where a man’s pulse usually beat strongly. Finding no movement there, he looked to the steward and said,
“He is gone. If you will look after him, I will take the lady Mairi—”

“Nay!” she cried, falling to her knees beside her father and bending over him. Urgently, she shook him as Rob had, but with
tears streaming down her cheeks.

“With respect, sir,” the steward said quietly to Rob, “I would send a man for the lady Phaeline. We must tell her in any event,
and I ha’ nae doots she will attend to the lady Mairi, too. So, mayhap it would be wiser did ye go now, whilst ye still can.
There be some here as would ha’ your eyes, sithee—wi’ respect, sir.”

“Send for the lady Phaeline by all means,” Rob said. “But I will stay here unless the lady Mairi herself bids me go.”

The steward looked long at him.

Only when Rob saw the man’s expression shift from stern determination to acceptance did he turn back to Mairi. “Come, my lady,”
he said gently. “You can do nowt for him now. He is at peace.”

She stayed where she was as if she had not heard him. Then, abruptly crossing herself, she drew a breath, let it out, and
stood to face him. With astonishing calm, she said, “I thank you for bringing me home in time to see him before he died, sir.
But I do agree that you must return to your men now.”

A high-pitched scream from the entryway drew everyone’s attention to a plump woman in the fashionable garb of a noblewoman,
whom Rob had no difficulty recognizing as Phaeline, Lady Dunwythie. Catching up her skirts, she flew down the steps and across
the yard as men and horses scrambled to make way for her.

“What have you
done
to him?” she shrieked to no one in particular. Then, fixing her gaze on Mairi, she shrieked again and flew at her, claws
outstretched.

The steward jumped out of her path, whereupon Rob stepped swiftly into it. Catching her by her arms, he said sternly, “Hold
now, my lady.”

When he grabbed her, she stiffened and her shrieks ceased. His command to her therefore dropped into the sudden silence like
stones into a pool, spreading ripples of visible unease through the men watching them.

“How dare you lay your hands on me!” she demanded shrilly.

“Madam, prithee recall your condition,” Mairi said as Rob released her ladyship. “You do not want to endanger the bairn you
carry.”

The older woman looked briefly bewildered, then irritated. “Thank you for your advice, Mairi,” she said with caustic hauteur.
“Doubtless, our Fiona learned her pretty behavior from you. I do not doubt that you schemed to distress your father and now
have killed him by returning as you have. I hope you are happy.”

Rob saw the lass stiffen, but she did not reply in kind.

Instead, coolly, she said, “We are both distressed, madam, but distress will not bring him back. We must send at once to inform
Fiona of what has happened, although I fear for her state of mind when she hears of this. She will likely blame herself as
quickly as you blame me.”

Turning to the steward, Mairi said, “I shall depend on you, Jopson, to send a reliable lad who will not just blurt the news
to her ladyship. But first, tell Gerrard he must command our men to stand down. We’ll send no army to Applegarth today.”

“But, my lady—”

“If my father was sure that the lady Fiona
chose
to elope with Will Jardine, then until we learn otherwise, I say she shall have her way.”

Lady Dunwythie said fiercely, “And who are
you
, pray, to be giving orders here?” she demanded. “Orders about
my
daughter!”

Still outwardly calm, Mairi said, “Until your bairn arrives and proves himself male, madam, I remain heiress apparent to my
father’s estates. His will, unless he altered that part as well as the part about Fiona’s inheriting Annan House, does proclaim
that I am to take charge in just such an event as this. Jopson, did his lordship say aught to you about changing that portion?”

“Nay, my lady,” the steward replied. “And he would ha’ told me. So his will do be as ye say. I’ll give your orders straightaway.”
He turned away to do so.

Mairi turned next to Rob.

Hastily, before she could speak, he said, “This event does alter things, my lady. I would be of service to you if I may, in
any manner that you deem useful.”

“I thank you, sir, for your kindness,” she said, meeting his gaze with deep sorrow in her own that he knew was for her father
and not for him.

He also knew what she would say, so again he spoke first, saying, “I will carry the message for your lady sister to Jardine
Mains and bring her back to you, my lady. I can also deal swiftly with Will Jardine, and as your lord father desired.”

“Nay,” she said, her voice warm enough in that single word to melt his heart, although the word she spoke was the wrong one.
“Will Jardine did not act by himself or… or kill anyone. Nor did aught that
you
did, or I,” she added. “My father was a man of peace. He loathed conflict and would nearly always seek peace at any price.
He is gone now, and we cannot change that. But we will have peace in Annandale if I can manage it. To that end, sir, you
can
help me if only you will.”

He knew she meant that he should dissuade Alex from his sworn course of taking Annandale under his power. The knowledge entered
his mind with a thud.

Nevertheless, he said, “I will do all I can, my lady, but—”

“No buts, sir,” she interjected with a wan smile. “I want your promise. And promises, like apologies, should never marry with
a ‘but.’”

He was sure his expression matched hers as he nodded in agreement, but he could not speak, because his throat was full. He
wanted so much to take her in his arms that he could not trust himself to touch her.

Nodding again more abruptly, he made his bow and left the yard.

He was not yet halfway down the hill when he saw the defiant Gibby coming up with a basket in hand.

Remembering what it contained, Rob smiled.

Mairi watched Rob walk away until he had passed through the gateway and disappeared below the grassy crest of the hill, wishing
he would turn and look back but feeling relieved when he did not.

She watched men gently lift her father onto a thick blanket and carry him into the house, where maidservants and women from
the cottages would prepare him for burial. Beside her, Phaeline burst into gusty, sobbing wails.

Mairi felt then as if the past weeks had been only a dream.

Drawing a breath and letting it out slowly, she turned to cope with Phaeline.

Phaeline’s woman, Sadie, came running toward them, her skirts caught up high, and seeing her, Mairi felt a rush of gratitude.

Warmly, she said, “I’m gey glad to see
you
, Sadie!”

With a wry smile and a glance at the still sobbing Phaeline, Sadie said, “I’ll warrant ye are, me lady. ’Tis relieved we be
to ha’ ye back again, and gey sorrowful for his lordship’s death. What would ye ha’ me do first?”

“See to her ladyship,” Mairi said.

“Aye, sure. And will I tell the housekeeper to send for the women then?”

Agreeing, Mairi saw how deftly she dealt with Phaeline, and was calling down more blessings on Sadie when a youthful voice
behind her said, “Beg pardon, me lady, but the laird did say I should come to ye, that ye might ha’ need o’ me.”

Turning, she beheld Gibby, his wide, gap-toothed smile on full display.

“Gib! Surely the boat has not gone without you!”

“Nay, the laird did say I should bring ye a wee gift. But ye’re no to open the basket even a crack till ye’ve gone inside.
So if ye be too busy yet here, I’ll wait.”

“But will the boat wait?”

“Aye, sure, till I go and wave it off. Unless the tide do run afore then.”

Mairi hesitated. “But surely, you do not
want
to stay here, Gib. You like it gey fine at Trailinghail with the laird and Fin Walters.”

“Aye, sure, and I’ll go back soon enough. The laird did say that mayhap ye could take me into Nithsdale when ye go to Thornhill
for Easter. Sithee, Herself will be back in Dumfries by then, and the laird did say that, one way or t’other, she’d help me
find how to get back to Trailinghail. Meantime, he said I could learn much here. Sithee, I be a grand chap for learning.”

“So you are,” Mairi agreed, but her thoughts had shifted to Thornhill and Easter. Giving herself a shake and returning her
gaze to the hopeful child, she said, “Go then, if you are sure, and wave the boat off so they do not miss the tide, whilst
I finish sorting things out here. Then we will go inside and see what you have in that basket. Unless you want to spare yourself
the burden and leave it with me now.”

“Nay, I dinna mind carrying it. And ye might peek.”

As he strode back to the gateway, Mairi realized she was smiling.

Before he returned, she concluded that although Jopson’s quiet acceptance of her authority had assuaged any doubt she might
have had about assuming control, he could easily do all that needed doing outside without her. And the housekeeper and her
women would see to Dunwythie’s laying out.

That left Mairi with little to do but go in to face Phaeline—and a household bursting with curiosity about her long absence,
and all it might have entailed.

It was enough, she thought, to make anyone want to turn tail and run.

How she wished Fiona were there, if only to have someone with whom she could talk without minding each word. Realizing she
would have their bedchamber to herself stirred new sadness, and tears that she had not expected to shed.

Dashing them away, she hurried to the great hall, where she found the housekeeper in a bustle to arrange his lordship’s laying
out.

Agreeing with all that the woman suggested and assuring her that she perfectly understood her desire to supervise it all,
Mairi dismissed her with relief and turned toward the stairway.

“Lady Mairi, d’ye want to see what be in me basket now?”

Turning to find Gibby right behind her, holding up the basket, Mairi lifted the lid to see Tiggie curled up inside.

“Good sakes,” she said, “I never suspected
this
! Indeed, I thought
you
were the present, with the basket just containing your clothes and more food.”

“Aye, sure, I am
part
o’ the gift,” Gib said. “Nae doots, ye
need
me to look after that wee scruff. As to clothes, I’ll do well enough wi’ these.”