Page 29 of Kilgannon #1

W E RETURNED TO MOUNTGARDEN, AND LOUISA AND Randolph left the next day for London.

I didn’t go, for London held no charms for me now.

Louisa wrote that word had spread before us from Kent, and Alex and I were yet again the favorite topic of London gossip.

As we were in Warwickshire. I listened impassively as Alex’s visit to Robert’s estate was endlessly discussed everywhere Will and Betty and I went.

I kept my calm exterior, but I was thrilled that Alex had come to find me.

The fact that he’D not considered his actions extraordinary made them even more so.

I smiled to myself a lot. Alex loved me. What else could matter?

A week went by, then a second, with no word from Alex. I thought about what he had said and what Robert had said, but I’d made my decision much earlier. I wanted to be with Alex.

Our weather turned cold and then colder.

We’D had no rain, but the cold threatened the newly planted crops, and all the talk was of the weather.

I heard none of it, lost in my dreams of Alex and my future with him.

On a cold, dark morning in late April, I was brought a letter that held the familiar crest. I broke the seal and folded the paper open.

My dearest Mary , he wrote. How I miss you.

I am in London and will be following this letter in a day or so.

We have much to discuss. Since your father is gone and your brother is younger than I am, I have asked your uncles for permission to marry you.

Your uncle Randolph has readily consented and I went to visit your uncle Grafton yesterday.

He’s a strange man, as you have said, but he welcomed me and I like him very much.

He told me that you were the one to make any decision as to whom you marry, not he, but he suggested I should ask Will.

I think I should ask you. Please be ready with your answer.

If it is nay then I will leave at once. If you wish not to see me at all —a large ink blot obliterated the next few words, then he continued in an agitated hand— Mary, I will be with you shortly.

Yours, Alex . I hugged the letter to me while a glow spread through me.

Alex was coming. All was right with the world.

It had started snowing, and I watched the flakes gather as I waited.

And waited. It snowed all afternoon and all night.

Everyone complained loudly about snow in April, worried about the damage the late storm would do.

In the morning the sun shone weakly for an hour or two before disappearing into the fog, and by luncheon it was snowing again.

He will not be able to come through this , I told myself.

He’ll stay in London . And I began to worry, thinking of the attack in the coach.

He’ll stay in London because of the weather , I thought.

And someone who does not wish him well might discover that .

Or he might try to travel through it. I didn’t know which worried me more.

I could not settle. The accounts went untouched, the books unread, my sewing undone.

Will and Betty retired upstairs in the late afternoon, and I was in my father’s office, idly looking through papers, when a maid popped her head in and said Lord Kilgannon was here to see me. I flew past her.

“We left him in the foyer, Miss Mary,” she called after me. “He looks very fierce.”

I ran to the hall and found him with his back to me, studying the paintings, dressed in a cloak that covered most of him.

Melting snow fell from him onto the marble floor, and his wet hair dripped down his back.

Several of the staff hovered nervously nearby, but none of them had welcomed him, and I hurried to remedy that.

“Alex,” I said, and he turned. His lips were blue, his cheeks windburned, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. He opened his arms. I was in them without a thought for the staff.

“Mary,” he whispered into my hair. My face was pressed against his shoulder and I clung to him for a moment before he kissed me.

His lips were cold, his hands like ice when I wrapped my arms around him, and I realized his clothes were wet through.

I pulled the cloak off his shoulders and I fussed over him, handing his cloak, jacket, hat, and gloves to waiting hands.

“Bring me one of my brother’s jackets, Jack,” I told one of the houseboys.

“And some socks,” I added, glancing at Alex’s feet.

“The boots come off too, sir.” He protested, but I persisted, and in short order I led a barefoot Scot into my father’s office and had warm food on the way.

I closed the door firmly behind me and studied him as he warmed his hands.

He wore some kind of close-fitting leggings made of a plaid knitted material, topped by a very long woolen shirt.

Underneath was another shirt of oatmeal wool that reached his thighs, and I persuaded him to shed the top shirt so it could dry.

I hung the shirt over a chair. He laid his short sword on the hearth and reached for me.

“Mary, I have missed ye sorely,” he said, pulling me to him.

“Alex,” I gasped between kisses. “You’re beautiful.”

I could feel his laughter. “Oh, aye, I’ve always thought so too. Especially now. Yer daft, lass.”

“No,” I said as he kissed me again. I ran my hands up his back, feeling the muscles of his shoulders.

I lost myself in our embraces until a knock at the door made us spring apart.

It was the food, and I helped the girl, who was glancing covertly at Alex.

His hair was drying and he brushed it back from his face with the gesture I remembered so well. When the girl left he laughed.

“We’re scandalizing them here now, Mary. I’m thinking we have quite a talent for doing that.”

“It’s you, Alex. They’ve known me all my life. They thought you looked very fierce.” I gestured him to the table.

“Oh, aye, fierce. I’m no’ fierce. I’m frozen and verra hungry,” he said as he sat before his plate.

I asked him if he’D like something stronger than tea.

“Aye, that I would,” he said, beginning to eat.

I knew there was a bottle somewhere in the desk and had just found it when the houseboy Jack burst into the room with the clothes.

I was grateful that we had not been caught in a lustful embrace by an eight-year-old.

Jack looked at Alex as if he were a creature from another world. Which, I suppose, he was.

“Your clothes, sir,” Jack said, thrusting them at Alex, who thanked him and put the clothes on a chair. Jack continued to stare. I poured the liquor—brandy, not whisky— and Alex took it gratefully, watching the boy as he drank.

“Out with it, lad,” Alex said. “What do ye want to know?”

Jack stammered. “Are you the Scot who’s going to marry Miss Mary? Did you climb the Tower wall? Do you have a sword?”

“Aye. No. Aye.” Alex laughed. “I’m going to marry your Miss Mary if she’ll have me.

But I dinna climb the Tower wall. I climbed Lord Campbell’s garden wall.

Ye would have done the same, no?” Jack nodded.

“And, aye, I have a sword. Do ye want to see it?” Jack nodded again, his eyes huge.

Alex pointed out the sword’s features and ate slowly, patiently answering the boy’s questions while I watched.

He must be like this with his own sons , I thought, and wondered again what they were like.

If I were to spend my life with this man, I would be spending it with his sons as well.

I would be their stepmother. I’d been thinking only of my life with Alex, but now I felt a quiver of fear.

Would they like me? Would I like them? I thought of the two little faces from the sketches he had sent me.

Would Sorcha’s memory always stand between us?

I would do my best to be a good mother, I resolved.

But would that be enough? What was I doing?

Caught up in my own musings, I was startled when Jack bobbed a bow to me and ran out of the room. At Alex’s laugh, I looked up.

“No doubt he’ll be spreading tales in the kitchen,” he said. “Before he’s through I’ll have cut someone in two with a claymore.” Alex’s voice grew tender. “Mary, how have ye been?”

“Fine, Alex,” I said, my thoughts having made me suddenly shy. “Any news about your ship?”

“No,” he said.

“And what of the murder?”

His expression was grim. “We found the culprits and I hanged them, Mary,” he said without expression.

I looked away then, and an awkward silence settled on us.

After a moment he sighed and took his shirt from the chair next to him.

“Mary,” he said. “I thank ye for the food and the fire.” He did not look at me as he put his still-damp shirt on, and I realized with a start that he was leaving.

I said his name, but he did not look at me. He leaned down to pick up the sword.

“Alex—” I said again, but he interrupted before I could go on, raising his chin as he looked at me, his eyes very blue.

“Mary, ye dinna have to say it. I’ve been a fool.”

I rose to stand before him. “Alex, are you leaving?”

“Aye.”

I put my hand on his arm. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do, lass,” he said.

“Then, for God’s sake, ask me to marry you.”

His eyes were suddenly angry. “Dinna toy with me, Mary.”

“I am not toying with you, Alex.”

At last he nodded. “Mary, have ye thought on marrying me? ”

“I have thought of little else. And, yes, Alex, I’ll marry you. But you must ask correctly.”

He blinked. “Correctly. I’ve been asking incorrectly?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “Actually, you haven’t asked me at all.”

“Ah. Well.” He studied me for a moment. “Mary, ye ken my wealth is less than it was?” I nodded. “And that the MacGannons are Catholic.” I nodded again. “And that we’ll be living in Kilgannon?”