The Highlander's Yuletide Love (14 page)

“Easy,” breathed
Ranulf, his lips still lingering just under her ear. “It will be a few moments
before they are escorted in here.”

“But if they
were to see us—”

“What if they
did?” Ranulf’s arm tightened slightly around her.

Sophy turned
pinker, if that were possible. “They would be shocked!”

“Would they? I
wonder. I sometimes think Lady Exencour has a very clear idea of what is
happening between the two of us. The worst thing I can think of that might
occur is that I would be obliged to marry you.”

“Precisely!” Sophy
dropped her skirt and pulled away from him, aware that she was free only
because he had allowed it. “Neither of us wants that!”

“Don’t we?”

“No, we don’t.” Sophy
fidgeted with her skirt, and adjusted her lace cravat, which had also been
disarranged by Ranulf’s questing hands. She looked back into the mirror once
again, with a dissatisfied air.

Ranulf laughed. “I
think that was what got us into trouble in the first place,” he said. He
stepped forward and unhurriedly repositioned her curls, then leaned forward, to
plant a sensuous kiss on her lips. Sophy moaned, willing herself not to
respond, despite the fact that her body was already primed by his previous
attentions.

“You see?”

Sophy glared up
at him, resenting the smugness she sensed in his voice, before turning her back
on him, walking towards a window and pretending a great interest in the
surrounding gardens.

As Sophy stared
stonily out the window, a babble of voices in the hallway became audible, and
the drawing room door opened as the butler escorted in her parents as well as
Isobel and Francis. She turned to face them hastily, hoping she did not look as
flustered as she felt as she joined the others.

“What a glorious
home you have, Colonel Stirling,” trilled Harriet. “I am absolutely in raptures
over it! Your description hardly did it justice!”

“Thank you for
your kind words, Lady Glencairn,” said Ranulf. “I’m glad it pleases you.”

“Oh, it more
than pleases me! How happy I am that we are here. Is it not lovely, Sophy?”

“What? Oh! Yes,
it is,” agreed Sophy, trying to gather her wits. Her thoughts were still
located five minutes in the past.

“You’re flushed,
my dear,” said Isobel. “Are you warm?”

Ignoring
Ranulf’s teasing look, Sophy did her best to pull herself together. “No--no,
not at all. It must be from the wind on the ride here.”

Isobel looked
from her to Ranulf and smiled slightly. “Yes, that must be it,” she said. “In
any case, you look very becoming.”

“You do, child. The
highland air seems to agree with you,” said Harriet. She clasped her hands. “How
lovely. What shall we do now?”

Ranulf cleared
his throat. “Mrs. Ross will conduct you to your rooms. I’m sure you will wish
to get your children settled and rest. I’ve arranged to have a nursery set up
in the same wing you will be in.”

“How thoughtful!
And a rest sounds perfect!” Harriet beamed at him.

“In the
meantime, Kincraig is already down in the stables,” said Ranulf. “Perhaps the
gentlemen can go there, while the ladies take care of other matters. My father
would greet you, but he is bedridden. He asks that you make yourselves at home
and enjoy the hospitality of Spaethness.”

He tugged the
elegantly embroidered bell pull, and in moments Gibbs appeared, accompanied by
Mrs. Ross, the housekeeper. There was a babble of conversation as Gibbs and
Mrs. Ross engaged to show Glencairn, Harriet and the Exencours to their rooms. The
other carriages in their retinue having arrived, Isobel and Harriet bustled out
in to the hall to check on their children and the nursemaids, while Ranulf told
Gibbs to be sure refreshments were sent to each guests’ room. Sophy watched
this whirl around her for a moment, and then began to follow Mrs. Ross out of
the drawing room, sure that her bedchamber was near her parents’.

“Ah, Lady
Sophia, if you don’t mind, I will escort you to your room,” said Ranulf.

She stopped in
her tracks and looked back at him over her shoulder.

“It is on
another corridor than the others’ bedchambers,” he continued. “I thought the
noise of the children might bother you, and you would wish to sleep well here
at Spaethness.”

“Oh! Yes,
certainly, thank you,” breathed Sophy.

Ranulf took a
step closer as Mrs. Ross popped back into the drawing room. He gently waved her
away.

“I will attend
to Lady Sophia,” he said. “You have enough on your hands with the others.”

“Thank you, sir,”
said the housekeeper, bobbing a curtsey. “Mind, don’t keep her talking, she
will wish to rest.”

“Talking is not
the problem,” replied Ranulf, but so softly only Sophy could hear him. “Yes,
Mrs. Ross,” he continued in a more normal tone, “I will be sure not to detain
her.”

The hubbub of
voices retreated as the other guests were led upstairs, and Ranulf offered
Sophy his arm. She took it gingerly.

“Don’t fret. I
promised Mrs. Ross to take you straight to your bedchamber,” he said.

Sophy looked
around the hall as he led her toward the stairs. “It is so beautiful. Perhaps
you could show me a few highlights on the way.”

“I’d love to. It
pleases me immensely that you admire my home.”

“How could I not?”
Sophy allowed one hand to trail along the uneven stone walls as they climbed
the stairs.

“The tower is
fourteenth century, but a great deal of the rest of the building was added
later,” Ranulf informed her.

“What a fabulous
place this must have been for a child. There must be so many places to hide!”

“I did hide from
my tutor on many an occasion,” Ranulf admitted. “I never thought much about the
place then. But now, I understand how much work it will be. There is always
something that needs doing here.”

“But it is worth
the travail,” said Sophy. “Only think, one day your grandson, and then his son,
will be laird here.”

Ranulf looked
down her enigmatically. “Or my cousin’s grandson,” he said.

Sophy, suddenly
aware that she had ventured into uncomfortable territory, bit her lip. Ranulf
laughed softly.

“Would you like
to see the Gallery?” he asked. “It may not be as fine as that at Glencairn, but
you might find a few paintings you would like to study.”

“I would love
it,” breathed Sophy, relieved by the change of subject.

Ranulf led her
down the passageway, stopping now and again to point out some particularly fine
carving or an ancient tapestry. Finally he pushed open a door to reveal a long
room that stretched down the north side of the manor house, its large windows
flooded with the afternoon sun. Sophy gave a little cry of pleasure.

“How lovely!”

Ranulf stood
back and watched as she wandered into the gallery, going up to each painting in
turn and examining it closely. She stepped back from one, of a tall, slender
gentleman in an elegantly powdered wig.

“Is this by
William Aikman?” she asked.

“It is. That is
my grandfather.”

“You look a
great deal like him. Or you would, if you wore a grey wig!”

Ranulf raised a
hand to his cropped head. “Wigs have been out of fashion for some years, but I
would wear one if you wished me to.”

Sophy smiled at
that. “You would look—” she glanced again at the portrait. “Very handsome, I
suppose, if your grandfather is anything to judge by.”

Ranulf
considered her. “I think that may be the first compliment you have ever paid
me.”

Sophy flushed
and moved on hastily to the next portrait. She paused, gazing up at it.

“My mother,”
said Ranulf.

Sophy regarded
the painting earnestly. “She was very beautiful.”

Ranulf came and
stood at her side. “I suppose she was. I was not close with her. She did not
care for the isolation of Spaethness and spent much of her time in Edinburgh. My
father and she were not—well, let me just say that their marriage did not
resemble that of your father and stepmother.” He caught Sophy’s eye. “Do not
pity me, my dear. I was a happy enough child, and her absence was appreciated. It
was when she was in residence here that I was miserable. She had quite a
temper.”

“I suppose I can
see that in her eyes. It is very well rendered.” Sophy leaned forward to look
closely at the signature on the painting. “Anne Forbes!”

Ranulf turned to
her in surprise. “Do you know of her?”

“Of course I do,”
scoffed Sophy. “She is one of the first Scottish women to make her living as a
painter.”

“She lives in
Edinburgh,” said Ranulf. “Perhaps sometime you can meet her.”

“I would love
to. I will ask Papa and Mama to take me there.”

“I’m sure you
will meet her.” Ranulf’s expression was enigmatic. “And now I should show you
to your room. Mrs. Ross will scold me if I keep you much longer.”

Sophy
reluctantly turned away from the painting and allowed Ranulf to lead her from
the room.

“You will be
here some weeks, and you can visit the gallery whenever you choose,” said
Ranulf. “I will make sure your studio is nearby.”

“Thank you.” Sophy
looked at him thoughtfully. “You are being very kind to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?
I enjoy being kind to you, when you permit it.”

She opened her
mouth, but Ranulf interrupted her. “Don’t argue with me, Sophy.”

“I was not going
to argue!”

“You were.”

Sophy lapsed
into an annoyed silence that lasted until Ranulf, whose apparent amusement only
irked her further, stopped in front of a door carved of dark wood. He pushed it
open.

“Your room,
Sophy. I hope you like it.”

Sophy entered,
and gave a little gasp of delight as she looked around the light filled room. Clearly
decorated for a lady, the walls had pale yellow wallpaper with a delicate
floral design and chinoiserie paneled inserts made of silk, with painted decorations
of ladies and gentlemen walking in gardens, boating, and dancing. A vast
savonnerie carpet covered the parquet floor, lending softness and warmth. A
delicate French escritoire with marquetry decoration stood before one of the
windows, ready for a lady’s letter writing. It matched the enormous bed, also
ornamented with inlay, and with a canopy and hangings of a pale yellow silk to
complement the walls. The bed itself was strewn with pillows and a
feather-stuffed comforter lavishly embroidered with flowers.

Sophy’s eyes
were drawn immediately to the massive bed with its shiny silk coverlet. She
could almost imagine what it would feel like against her back as Ranulf leaned
over her. She shook her head, attempting to dispel the image.

“Is something
wrong?” asked Ranulf.

Sophy looked up.
“No, of course not. It’s stunning.”

Wallis bustled
out from the alcove next to the wardrobe, stopping in her tracks when she saw
Ranulf.

“Lady Sophia!”
she said, startled.

“Yes, Wallis. The
colonel was kind enough to show me up, as the housekeeper was much occupied
with my parents and the children. “

“Of course, Lady
Sophia.”

Ranulf bowed. “I
know when my presence is unnecessary. Besides, your brother is no doubt
tormenting my stablemaster, and it would be unkind of me not to rescue him. I
hope you are very comfortable here, Lady Sophia.”

With a nod at
Wallis, he left the room. Sophy gazed after him for a moment, lost in thought,
and then jumped when Wallis spoke.

“Oh, Lady
Sophia, what if I hadn’t been here? You’d have been alone in your bedchamber
with Colonel Stirling!”

Sophy squelched
the thought that such a thing would not be so terrible. “Don’t be silly,
Wallis. He’s our host.”

Wallis shook her
head. “I’m thinking he’s more than that, Lady Sophia,” she said with some
severity.

Sophy turned
away, ignoring her remark, and merely said, “I would very much like to have a
bath and change out of this riding dress. Could you please ring for hot water?”

Dearest
Philippa,

We have several
days at Spaethness, and how lovely it is! You have no notion how delightful the
countryside is, with its sunlit lochs, wooded glens filled with mossy pines and
birch, the burns flowing through them, and soaring hills rising above all. Only
yesterday we drove out to Loch Katrine, which of course you will recall is the
home of the Lady of the Lake! We had a glorious picnic on the shores! I know,
of course, that it is only a story, but I fully expected to encounter Ellen
Douglas and James Fitz-James, or by chance look up and see Malcolm Graeme swimming
across the loch! No such thing happened, naturally, though we had a lovely meal
and strolled along the water. Rob Roy was also born on the shores of Loch
Katrine, you will remember, and Colonel Stirling has promised me a visit to Balquhidder,
where we can view his grave.
I'm sure you think me very silly, but I
cannot deny the romance of the land, nor do I wish to!

We are all
enjoying ourselves immensely. Dear Euan and Douglas have found some excellent
streams for angling, and they and Francis and the colonel often ride out to
shoot. I am quieter, of course, but I like to stroll in the gardens or take
little Euan for a walk along the pathway that leads to the village. Isobel is
often with me, and I think she is enjoying the time away from Ballydendargen,
even though she is unable to root about in her Roman fort.

Colonel Stirling
has been very kind to Sophy as well, for all she has been so cold to him in the
past. He has arranged a studio for her in Spaethness Castle, a large room with
windows that let in a great deal of light. She seems to be charmed by the
neighborhood, and often goes out to sketch or paint, but many a sunny morning
finds her locked away in her studio for, only fancy, Colonel Stirling is
sitting for a portrait! I was amazed when I heard of it, but Sophy tells me she
thought it would be a way to thank him for being so kind to our little family. She
seems to have grown up a bit; a year ago she would not have thought to thank
our host in such a way, but now she seems to be quite aware of her duty as a
guest. I had hoped against hope, as I told you before, that the two of them
might make a match of it, but they are still only polite to each other, and I
know I must not press the issue. After all, Sophy is quite determined not to
marry, and Colonel Stirling seems to think of her as an amusing child, which is
a shame. Still, a handsome gentleman who is heir to a fine estate will always
have his pick of ladies, and Sophy did nothing to attract him when they first
met.