Seduced by a Rogue (8 page)

Because, Rob wondered, how could the man
not
be?

Their journey continued without incident unless one counted persistent efforts of one small kitten to escape captivity.

They reached the outskirts of Kirkcudbright by torchlight after clouds had hidden the last of the stars. As they prepared
to eat, the kitten made it plain that it, too, had urgent needs. But when Rob put it down, it dashed into the shrubbery.

Shouting for his men to circle the area and warning them that Lady Kelso would take a dim view of the kitten’s loss, Rob waited
grimly for its reappearance. When it shot out from under a bush and frantically clawed its way up his leg into his arms, he
felt a wholly unexpected surge of pure delight.

A generous helping of minced beef assured him of its continued goodwill.

Loudly purring, the kitten slept beside him that night, woke him at dawn with a rough, wet lap across his nose, and after
they had broken their fast, rode contentedly inside his leather jack the rest of the way home to Trailinghail.

“But
why
must we leave Dunwythie Hall?” Fiona demanded that same fine morning. “And why go now in such haste?”

“Hush, Fee,” Mairi said. “Your mam feels unwell again.”

“If that is so, it is even more reason
not
to be mounting our horses and hurrying back to Annan House. Forbye, I don’t
want
to go home.”

Sternly, clearly having overheard her, Phaeline said, “Your father made the decision because of threats that dreadful Maxwell
person made. ’Tis clear we will be
much
safer at Annan House until the Maxwells come to their senses. So, unless you would incur my gravest displeasure, Fiona, you
will obey without further protest.”

“Aye, madam,” Fiona said with a sigh.

Mairi knew that, although her father had decided to leave Dunwythie Hall, her stepmother had likely prompted that decision,
for so it often was. Phaeline always preferred Annan House, because she thought the area there more civilized.

Mairi also knew that Fiona’s imposed silence would end as soon as they were well on their way. Indeed, the Hall had scarcely
disappeared behind them when the younger girl hissed as they rode side by side, “I’ll wager
you
are no more eager to return home than I am.”

“I ken fine why you do not want to go, Fee,” Mairi said. “But you cannot think that I have the same reason.”

Fiona hunched a shoulder. “No one ever cares what I want. But Father will heed neither of us at home, especially as he means
to visit the other lairds and warn them about the Maxwells’ newest threat. One wonders what we’ll have to occupy us there,
other than our usual duties and needlework. Aye, and Lent began yesterday and tomorrow is Sunday. So we’ll be all morning
in kirk and until Mam grows tired of the sacrifice, we’ll have no meat to eat!”

Mairi said, “At least we know more about the estates now than we did before Father took us to the Hall. Also, our people will
have planted the fields below Annan House during our absence. So we can learn even more about such things at home.”

“You know I don’t care a blink for such stuff. All I want is to meet eligible young men, Mairi. And you should want that,
too, or you’ll have no one to think about
except
Robert Maxwell. What will you do then, eh?”

Slowing her mount to lessen the risk that Phaeline or Dunwythie might hear them, Mairi said, “I don’t deny that I found the
man intriguing, Fee, but I cannot even tell you
why
I did. Perhaps it is only that he seems so strong and sure of himself when I so often feel rather helpless in the uncertainty
of my future.”

“Sakes, what makes you think he is strong or confident when he failed so miserably to persuade our father to agree with him?”

“The strength I felt came from within him,” Mairi said. “I do not think he counts success or failure in one such an attempt.
It seemed to me more as if he were doing his brother’s bidding, never really expecting to prevail.”

“But—”

“Have mercy,” Mairi pleaded. “This is foolishness, because it cannot matter
what
I think he feels inside, or why or how I sense it. His arrogant posturing when he said his odious brother could seize our
estates went beyond what I think of as civil behavior. It infuriated Father, too, although he did keep his temper.”

“Aye, and Father likely infuriated Robert Maxwell, too.
That
is why it all disturbed you, Mairi. You
always
hate disagreement. I think that whenever you see conflict, you feel as if you ought to be able to smooth it over,” Fiona
added sapiently. “When you cannot,
you
feel guilty.”

“Mercy, you make me sound as if I think of naught save myself,” Mairi protested. She was afraid, though, that much of what
her sister said was true. Disagreements did upset her. But surely they upset most people.

“I know you are not so selfish,” Fiona said. “You just sometimes seem to assume responsibility when you need not and, when
things go amiss—even when they have naught to do with you—to take it as a personal failure.”

“Anyone with common sense prefers peace,” Mairi said. “The plain truth is that it frightened me witless when Father just dismissed
the sheriff’s threat to seize the estates if Father does not submit.”

“But such a threat cannot be real,” Fiona said flatly.

Mairi feared that it was, however. Her annoyance with Robert Maxwell persisted. However, just thinking about the handsome
wretch brought memories of his charming smile, his musically vibrant deep voice, and the strangely sensual air of strength
and power the dreadful man projected.

In facing him that first time in the field, she realized now that although she had dreaded crossing words with him, she had
found it easier than expected to make her point. It felt almost as if she had drawn her strength then from his.

Silently scolding herself for such foolish thoughts, she had the happy notion to remind Fiona that they would enjoy Easter
with Jenny and Sir Hugh at Thornhill. Thereafter, as they followed the river’s course southward, they chatted desultorily.

Rob was glad to be home and glad, too, that the day was turning out to be a fine one and showed Trailinghail at its best.

The stone tower stood atop one of the sheer cliffs forming the west boundary of Kirkcudbright Bay less than a mile from where
it opened into Solway Firth. The position provided panoramic views of the bay and the more turbulent Firth. On such clear
days, one could see Kirkcudbright’s kirk spire and the towering keep of Castle Mains, ancient seat of the Lords of Galloway
and guardian of the town and its harbor.

The rain had passed, and the few clouds scudding across the azure sky were white and puffy. The air was chilly and smelled
strongly of the sea. Gulls cried overhead, and Rob’s people hailed his return with sincere delight.

He had inherited the tower and its forested estate from his grandfather, Lord Kelso, at the age of one-and-twenty. Before
then, Trailinghail being one of his lordship’s distant and lesser estates, the place had received less attention than his
larger holdings and had suffered accordingly.

Lord and Lady Kelso had spent most of their time at his primary seat near Glasgow or at their house in the royal burgh of
Stirling, just as their eldest son, Rob’s uncle and the present Lord Kelso, did now. Rob was sure that his inheritance had
come at her ladyship’s instigation, if only because his grandfather had shown unexpected forethought in also leaving sufficient
funds to set the place in good trim.

As isolated as Trailinghail was, although he had visited his grandparents there as often as possible, Rob had never expected
to live there permanently. However, he realized now, rather than chafe under Alex’s thumb in Dumfries, he had taken to spending
a little longer at Trailinghail each time he visited.

The people on the estate had made it plain from the outset that they looked on him as a blessing. Their delight in his first
arrival and in his declared intent to visit several times each year had spurred him to exert himself more than he might have
otherwise. As a result, he had come to love the place as much as they did.

The job of putting things in order had taken up much of the past four years. His fields were in good trim now, the wall was
sound. And if the tower had received less attention, it was comfortable enough to welcome his grandmother if she did choose
to visit. Despite her suggestion that she would, Rob doubted he would see her before summer. The present Lord Kelso and his
family would press her to visit them, and Trailinghail lay miles away from the road to Glasgow.

Rob knew that Lord Kelso adored his blunt-spoken mother despite the trouble they had living together for long periods, and
would do all he could to keep her until her annual return to Dumfries for Easter. And, despite her
ladyship’s independent nature, she doted on her son’s family and would miss them dreadfully if aught happened to prevent her
visiting them.

Thoughts of that mutually doting relationship brought Mairi’s image to mind, and Dunwythie’s. The odd connection spurred a
tickling jolt in Rob’s train of thought as if his mind had jumped ahead of itself. Letting the wisp go, he returned his attention
to Trailinghail and the new projects he wanted to begin there.

His steward, Fin Walters, a sensible man in his mid-thirties, welcomed Gibby’s arrival. Walters had grown up in service to
Rob’s grandfather and had a respect for Lady Kelso that bordered on worship.

“If Herself commends ye to me care, lad, I’m sure ye’ll be a great help,” he said. “I’ve any number o’ things ye can do.”

Gibby, who had been eyeing him askance, straightened noticeably and said he could do aught that anyone asked of him. “Except
for herding carnaptious wee cats,” he added stoutly with a sidelong look at Rob.

Suppressing a smile, Rob said, “You will do whatever Fin Walters tells you to do or suffer unpleasant consequences.”

“Aye, sure, I said so, didn’t I?” Gibby said, his demeanor wide-eyed and earnest. “Just
not
cats.”

Grunting, and avoiding Fin’s twinkling eyes, Rob left them to get acquainted and went inside to stow his gear.

He soon realized he had acquired an orange-and-white shadow.

Amused by the kitten’s curiosity and its antics as it explored his bedchamber, he otherwise ignored it. He was certain it
would soon find its way to the kitchen. As soon as someone down there fed it, it would forget all about him.

He had stripped off his jack and his shirt, and was scrubbing himself at the washstand, when a now-familiar voice spoke from
the open doorway.

“Fin Walters did say I should ask d’ye ha’ aught ye’d like me to do for ye.”

Reaching blindly for a towel, Rob blotted his face as he turned to face Gibby. “Have you annoyed
him
already, then?”

“Nay, I just tellt him I’d served Herself mostly inside and rode with her when she went out, and such. So
he
said I should tend to things in the tower for a time, till I learn me way about and get to know the men. I expect he wants
them to ken more about me afore he gives me to one o’ them to train,” he added sagely. “He said ye dinna ha’ a man to look
after ye, though. So I might make m’self useful.”