True Heart (13 page)

She nodded in acceptance. “You must think me awfully selfish.”

Dappled sunlight sparkled in her hair and accentuated the fineness of her complexion. Years ago, freckles had dotted her nose and cheeks.
Forget the girl she had been,
he told himself,
and think about the woman.

“Selfish? Nay. I
know
that you are overwhelmed.”

“Yes, I am.”

And burdened. “If you like, we can go to Norfolk and await your parents there.”

“Oh, Cam.” She threw her arms around him. “May we please?”

Until that moment, he hadn't understood how much she wanted to get away from Poplar Knoll, but it made sense. Perhaps she could leave her demons at the dock. Once they were away from here, she might feel free to confide in him. He held her tighter, breathing in the clean scent of her hair, reveling in the miracle that he'd found her at last.

“Gather your things and say your good-byes. I'll tell MacAdoo we're leaving. Will you need help with your belongings?”

Against his shoulder, she said, “No, I haven't much.”

He cursed himself for a heartless fool; he knew she possessed little more than her clothing.

Releasing him, she stood back. “I'll have the housemaid pack up Agnes's trunk and yours.”

Her efficiency gave him pause. The cooper had sworn she seldom set foot in the main house. How had she learned to direct authority? “Very well, but first you must answer a question.”

She cocked her head to the side, and a question rose in her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me?”

He liked this confident, teasing Virginia. He grasped the opportunity to entertain her with the past. “I have before.”

“When?”

The game was on. If he made up a story, she'd show confusion. She'd also think him a liar. By telling her a favorite truth, he could watch her closely and see if she remembered the moment fondly. “When you were nine, you hid in the manger to watch a stallion mount a mare.”

“You discovered me?”

“Aye. In exchange for my silence, you had to groom my horse for a fortnight.”

Wistfully, she said, “We were great friends.”

Not a question. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “We still are.” He should tell her something she didn't know. “Mary gifted me with a new painting of us as children.” Actually it was a painting within a painting. Mary had thought up the concept. Virginia, in the role of Duchess the bond servant, had used a version of the technique in the painting that hung in the parlor of Poplar Knoll.

“Agnes said she is a great artist.”

“Aye. She'll want you to come to London. Her home is Lottie's greatest achievement in design.”

“Lottie designed Agnes's dress—the one with golden thistles. She said Lottie would make one for me.”

“Everyone will ply you with gifts and fond memories.”

“It's rather daunting to have everyone remember only the best of me.”

“Being glorified holds no appeal to you?”

“Should I question their accounts?”

“Yes, but never mine.”

“Agnes said you could beguile the arrogance from the French.”

“Agnes locked Mary and the earl of Wiltshire in a tower.”

“Why?”

“Because they are too stubborn to admit that they love each other.”

“What happened? When did she let them out?”

“She freed them on the night Wiltshire delivered his daughter.”

“They were prisoners for nine months?”

“Nay. Four months.”

“Four?”

“They knew each other well.”

“But they are happy now?”

“Aye.”

Tears filled her eyes, and he knew she was thinking fondly of Mary. To cheer her, he said, “You must be stern with Lottie. If you let her, she'll begin with your wardrobe and take over your life.”

Breathing deeply, she mastered her sorrow. “Truly?”

“When I told her I'd bought an empty house in Glasgow, she descended on the estate and furnished it.”

“Were you pleased?”

He'd always wanted Virginia for himself. With that desire had come acceptance of her family. Now he thought of them as kin. “I was and am flattered.”

She stopped at a fence covered with barren berry vines. “Agnes said my happiest times were with you.”

Cameron couldn't have resisted kissing her again, not if his life had depended on it. “ 'Tis true.” Drawing her close, he cupped her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers.

His imaginings had fallen far short of the mark. Putting his heart at her disposal came as naturally as steering into the wind. But the hot spur of passion that fired his loins was new. He'd cherished her with a lad's affection. Now he needed her with a man's desire, and if the way she kissed him back was any sign, she felt the same.

He worked out the motions required to lay her on the ground and strip away their clothing, and he cursed himself for not wearing his tartan. With a ready blanket and an hour's privacy, he'd ease the physical ache and in that lovely doing, tear down one of the barriers she'd erected between them.

Not breaking the kiss, he eyed the ground around them. The well-worn path meant others often came this way. Heavy undergrowth offered shelter, but at what price?

Faced with poor choices, he stifled his need and drew back. “Much as I want you, this is not the place.”

“Much more of that and you'll learn all of my secrets.”

Was she tempted to end the ruse? He longed for that day, but until then he'd pressure her. So he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “You kept only one secret from me.”

Her skin was flushed with passion. “I did?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure I want to know.”

“Yes, you do. You did not tell me of your plans on the day you left us.”

She studied her hands.

Did she blame him for what had befallen her? In the event she had not thought through the deception, he said, “A pity you cannot remember, for now you cannot seek justice against those who wronged you.”

She stared into the distance. “If I did remember, my heart would be filled with anger.”

Only that? He suspected other deeper emotions held Virginia MacKenzie captive and kept her silent. “Tell me what occupies your heart now?”

“Is that your blackmail demand?”

“Yes.”

A flock of sparrows darted overhead. She followed their flight. “Thoughts of you. Agnes was very forthcoming last night.”

Agnes had been Virginia's foremost champion; she'd say nothing to hurt her. “What did the trouble finder tell you?”

“Many things. Interesting details about your life.”

“Believe none of them.”

“She said you are responsible for the lifting of the ban on tartans and bagpipes. You're a hero to many.”

The subject always made him uncomfortable. At the time he'd begun the quest, he'd done so because he needed a purpose in life. He'd been rudderless without Virginia. “We half-Scots must work harder to make a place in the Highlands.”

“You're being modest. Agnes said you were.”

“Agnes talks too much, especially on the subject of Scottish politics.”

“I'm half Scottish, same as you.”

“Say that in front of your father and you'll regret it.”

“Agnes brought me a MacKenzie plaid.”

Virginia's coloring would make pale the most festive of all the Highland tartans. “We'll fly it atop the mast . . . in case we pass your father on the river.”

“Agnes also said she went with you to China. You met the Emperor.”

“We were looking for you.”

She turned and headed back the way they'd come. “I'm glad you found me.”

Now that she'd relaxed, he said, “Do you think you ran away?”

“I do not know, but I have faith that it will all come back to me in time.” She lifted her brows and shot him a warning glance. Cheerfully, she said, “You will find yourself at the disadvantage then.”

What moment would she choose to end the charade? “I think I have always been at the disadvantage with you.”

She laughed at his flattery, but her tone was serious when she said, “What made you think I ran away from home?”

Bittersweet humor filled him. “You asked me to take you with me, and when I refused, you accepted it too easily. I should have known at the time that you were up to something.”

She looked away. “You could have taken me with you.”

Not
should,
but
could.
Another unspoken message; she did not blame him. In their youth, he'd always known what she was thinking. Now he must listen in a different way.

“No, I could not, I'm sorry to say.”

“Don't be sorry. We're leaving. All will be well.”

He smelled bacon frying just as the house came into view. He thought of the long voyage to Scotland, the private places aboard the ship, the hours they could fill with passion. “I'll see you at the ship in an hour.”

*  *  *

Locating Quentin Brown delayed their departure. Using the time, Virginia hurried to the hamlet to retrieve her special keepsakes. With the basket of remembrances on her arm, she stood in the clearing. Paths led in every direction, paths she and the others here had worn smooth, paths that led both everywhere and nowhere at once, depending on who walked them.

Logs and rocks surrounded the cold hearth and served as a meeting place for the people in the hamlet. In the beginning she'd sat on the fringe of this place. Later she'd claimed the stool-sized boulder near a sapling oak. Now the tree thrived, and she'd long since taken a position of authority near the fire.

Songs were sung here and jests played. Handmade gifts were exchanged, disputes were settled. No matter the occasion, sadness would always taint her memories of those times. She glanced down the least used path and thought of the whipping post that awaited there. Silence, save the chatter of birds and insects buzzed in her ears. She'd been spared the lash, but watching the punishment of others had left deep scars on everyone in the hamlet.

She said a silent prayer, asking God to watch over Fronie, Georgieboy, and the others. Her peace made, she went in search of Merriweather. She found him in the storehouse, a dust smock over his butler's garb, the inventory journal open on the workbench. Merriweather hated counting the stores.

She latched the door behind her. “I came to say good-bye.”

He didn't look up but took great care and time capping the ink and cleaning the quill. “Everyone else is in the fields.”

Bond servants came and went. They were always held at a distance by the slaves at Poplar Knoll. Because of her age and the length of her indenture, Virginia had been accepted. Her attempt at escape had made her a prisoner. In the years that followed, the slaves had given their hearts to her; watching her leave would bring them to despair. “It's better this way. Will you—?”

“Yes, I'll tell them, and I hope you will take some fond memories with you. There have been those.”

The personal satisfaction of reading a purloined newspaper. Rewards after a successful harvest. Keeping her dignity in the face of utter shame. “I shall.”

“Take this also, for luck,” He gave her a wooden medallion on a length of white ribbon. Carved in the smooth oak was a stately eagle.

“I don't know what to say except thank you. I'll treasure it.”

“It's our symbol of liberty. Promise me you will not let some highborn Scot or Brit rob you of what you've earned here.”

He was speaking again of character, of self-respect. “But I lied to Cam and my family.”

He shrugged, but his keen gaze was anything but casual. “As much for them as for yourself. Worry not. The only thing your family and friends possess in abundance that you do not is guilt. Haven't they gone on with their lives?”

“Yes. That's why I told the tale.”

“Kindness has ever been your way—” He pulled off the smock and bowed from the waist. “Virginia, of the ducal MacKenzies. Now you are a woman off to take the next path in her destiny. Walk it proudly.”

“I will.”

Folding the smock, he draped it over his arm. “What have you decided to do? Where will you go?”

She'd spent the night on Cameron's ship, but she had slept little. She and Agnes had talked themselves into exhaustion. “After we find my parents, I'll be reunited with the rest of my family in Glasgow. Horace Redding is there.”

That got his attention. “Truly?”

“Yes. I plan to give him the copy of ‘Reason Enough.' ”

“The one you penned on that exquisite rabbit hide?”

“Yes.”

“He'll be very impressed, but I imagine he'll be too busy admiring you.”

She flushed. “Shall I remember you to him?”

He laughed. He'd never set eyes on Redding. “Go.” He made a shooing motion with his aged hands. “Snatch up the life you were destined for.”

“May I hug you?” She'd surprised him; his sudden uncertainty was proof of that. Partially for explanation but because she couldn't leave without it, she said, “My family was always open in their affection.”

He tisked and shook his head. “You battled much more than any of us knew, didn't you, gal? Yet never have you looked downtrodden.”

All of that was behind her. “I've won, Merriweather.”

“You have. No one will ever break your spirit. Bondage certainly has not.” He held out his arms.

She stepped into his embrace. He smelled of juniper berries and sad farewells.

“Don't forget,” he whispered. “Your family loved the girl. They'll love the woman more.”

She sighed, and her cheek grazed his wrinkled jaw. Words wouldn't come. All of her good-byes to the slaves and bond servants would be said through Merriweather. It was better that way.