Page 20 of Somewhere Along The Way (Mackinnon #3)

“I have something to tell you, Ross Mackinnon, and I want you to pay close attention and remember every word I say, because I’m not going to repeat myself.

You understand?” Ross swallowed, nodding his head slowly.

“Good. Now, I’m not telling you this as your teacher, and I’m not telling you on school property, or school time.

That’s why I brought you out here, away from the schoolhouse.

I’m telling you this as your friend, on my own time—and on a public road.

” She paused a moment, as if to see how Ross was taking all of this, then she continued.

“If you ever so much as breathe a word to anyone that I said as much to you, I’ll swear you made it up. Do I make myself clear?”

Ross nodded.

She put her hand on his head. “Are you listening to me, Ross? Carefully?”

He nodded twice.

She dipped her head slightly, indicating her apparent satisfaction before she went on to say, “The next time—and I mean the very next time one of those boys pokes fun at you, you double up your fist and give him what for. And don’t you stop either. Not until you’ve cleaned his plow. You hear me?”

Ross heard. It was the same sort of thing his older brothers had always said to do if he ever had any problems, but somehow, coming from Miss Pettigrew, it seemed all right. The next day he followed Miss Pettigrew’s advice.

And he had never forgotten the moment. Or Miss Pettigrew either.

He would go to his grave remembering the way she had looked that day, not more than a hundred pounds of determined red hair and flashing blue eyes, something quite out of character for a schoolteacher—or a nice Baptist lady.

He guessed if any woman besides his mother had been responsible for his always having had a soft spot in his heart for women, it had to be Miss Pettigrew.

And then he remembered how Miss Pettigrew had died that summer of diphtheria and the joy of the moment faded away to silence like a buggy crossing over a bridge.

He was a man full grown now, and the memories were old, yet the residue of sadness left him feeling irritated at himself for allowing his thoughts to eat at him like this, and he looked at his reflection in the mirror to get his mind on something else.

He eyed the chain of the gold pocket watch dangling from the pocket of his waistcoat, then pulled the watch out and checked the time.

All in all, having to wear clothes like this was a pretty sad ending for a man of the saddle to come to.

He put the watch back in his pocket. It was the only sensible thing he had been given to wear.

He left the room and made his way along the corridor and down the huge, double curved staircase of intricately carved oak.

Truly this was a grand stairway, made for even grander entries, something Ross would have given his best saddle to avoid.

Looking much more composed and elegant than he was feeling, he felt the heat of every eye upon him.

He couldn’t have felt more ridiculous if he’d been standing there buck naked.

Thanks be to God there weren’t many people gathered in the great hall due to the early hour.

As he reached the bottom stair, he saw the inky-haired goddess he had encountered earlier.

She was wearing a gauzy white dress with a flounced skirt; the reddest flowers in Scotland were in her hair, across her shoulders, and draped across her skirt.

He watched her close her fan and tuck it under her arm as she smoothed the white gloves on her hands.

He’d like to start with those tiny gloves, peeling them from her slim, white fingers, a glove at a time, and dropping them on the floor.

Next he’d remove the dress and everything beneath it, leaving her in nothing but her stockings and satin slippers with those blood-red flowers in that black, black hair.

Who was she?

It didn’t take him long to locate Percy and ask her name.

“Lady Annabella Stewart.”

“She’s a beauty.”

“She’s taken, I’m afraid,” Percy said.

“You mean she’s married?”

“Not yet, but she will be soon.”

Ross grinned. “Then she’s not taken.”

“Let it alone. She’s as close to being married as a woman can be, Ross. It means she is promised, and that, in plain English, means you can’t ask for her hand.”

Ross laughed. “I never intended to ask for her hand,” he said, looking her over with frank interest. “There are several other parts of her that interest me more.”

“I said, let it alone, dear boy. The man standing next to her is John Gordon, Earl of Huntly and her future husband. A craftier devil you’ll never hope to meet.”

“ Future husband, Percy. That means she’s still fair game.”

“Not in Scotland…or England.”

“England?” Ross grinned. “I don’t plan on chasing her that far.” He leaned closer and whispered, “I won’t have to.”

Percy didn’t doubt that for a moment. The lad had a way about him, as the duke said.

“The girl is English,” he said, his tone heavy with warning.

“And they have a different way of doing things. She’s a duke’s daughter, lad, and this is the nineteenth century, don’t forget.

It’s been fifty years since the last Highlanders ravaged the countryside, throwing dukes’ daughters over their saddles and abducting them. ”

“I’m not considering abduction…” Ross looked at Annabella again. She was smiling. Against all that black hair, her teeth looked as white as her dress. “At least not yet,” he amended. Then he added, “I don’t care if she’s English, Scot, or naked Nubian. She’s still a beauty.”

Ross found it difficult to speak. Visions of her danced before his eyes. “I’m not interested in her bloodlines or her past,” he said at last, “only her future. Besides, if what you say is true, the girl is more Scot than English.”

“God’s eyeteeth! Haven’t you understood anything I’ve said? It makes a big difference, lad. The lass was raised English.”

“It wouldn’t matter to me if she was a water sprite that sprang from a fountain. I told you, she’s a beauty, and that’s all that matters.”

“You’re wrong. What matters is the fact that she’s taken, no matter how badly you want to dally with her.”

“I want to do more than dally.” Ross laughed at the sick expression on Percy’s face.

“Ease up, old man. You should know by now that warnings don’t do much to discourage me.

” He slapped Percy on the back and said, “Don’t worry.

I swear you’re getting worse than an old woman.

Don’t you know all you’ll get from all this fretting is more gray hair?

” His tone turned suddenly serious. “You won’t change my mind, Percy. You might as well stop trying.”

Ross turned to leave, but Percy took him by the arm.

“Ross, listen to me. This is nothing to tease about. To meddle in this affair could be worse than foolish. It could be fatal. Treachery has been almost nonexistent in Scotland for decades. One of the fastest ways to revive it is to become involved in this Stewart-Gordon thing. Leave it alone. You could only lose. They are both extremely powerful families.”

“More powerful than the Mackinnons?” Ross asked, elevating his brows to an exaggerated height.

In spite of the teasing grin, Percy said, “You know as well as I that the Mackinnons lost a great deal to the Macleods years ago. They’re a modest clan now, content to live on what land they have left on Mull and Skye, blending Drambuie out of their malt whisky and heather honey.

They’ve suffered too many losses already, lad.

Don’t make it more just because you’ve taken a fancy to a certain lass.

” Percy cast a glance in the girl’s direction.

“She may be bonny, but Scotland is full of bonny women. Half of them will be here tonight. Choose someone else.”

Ross clapped him on the back. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, old man. You know what they say about the ways of the heart and all that.”

Percy wasn’t softened in the least by Ross’ humor. “The girl is considered to be a prize catch. Sons of some of the most powerful families in England have offered for her. Anyone from Clan Mackinnon wouldn’t stand a chance, even if she were free.”

Ross’ eyes brightened. “Ahhh, Percy. You said the wrong thing that time.” He glanced back at the beauty.

“I think it’s high time the Mackinnons regained some of that lost glory you were talking about.

” Seeing that Percy’s concern was indeed genuine, Ross grinned and his voice took on a teasing tone.

“Now, Aunt Percy, don’t you go a-worrying about me none.

I intend to be on my best behavior tonight. ”

To which Percy said drily, “Ha! Do you think me daft, lad?” His next words were laced with warning. “Neither your humor nor your coddling will serve you well in this case. You forget that I’m too old a cat to be fooled by a kitten.”

Aware that he had tried his friend’s patience, Ross said, “Well, then, if it’s any comfort, I won’t cause a scene.”

“I wish to God I could believe that.”

“You can.” Ross grinned wickedly. “I’ve got all these wonderful new manners, remember?”

“I remember,” Percy said succinctly. “I pray to God you remember.”

After Percy departed, Ross found himself a drink and wandered around the room.

He noted all the changes that had been made in the great baronial hall for this ball, peered out this great window and that, viewed the garden and sweeping lawns, then paused before the formidable portrait of his great-great-grandmother before moving over to study the belligerent portrait of the first Mackinnon chief.

The painting seemed to dominate the entire room.