struck him. Her guardians were dead. The plantation in Barbados she had called home for over twenty years now belonged to Malcolm. But she couldn't know that. The transaction had been a private affair.
"Will you, Malcolm?"
"That depends. Why are you here now?"
New tears filled her eyes. "You mean why am I here at last . Oh, Malcolm. I begged Charles to send me home. There was never enough money, he said. Then after dear Adrienne died he hardly spoke at all. The rum finally killed him, you know. He did leave me a stipend. So I dashed out straightaway and bought passage on the first packet home."
"Come now, Alpin," he scoffed. "You hated the Borders."
"I hated everything and almost everyone then, or have you forgotten?" As if brushing away a pesky insect, she waved her hand. "Enough about me. I've a surprise in the carriage."
Malcolm shortened his long stride to match her quick, determined steps. He wondered what sort of wounded creature she'd brought. As they approached the carriage he noticed the trunks and hatboxes fastened to the boot. "You haven't been to see your uncle?"
She sent him a puzzled frown. "Do you know, it never occurred to me to go to Sinclair Manor. I only thought of coming to you."
He'd schemed to return her to Sinclair Manor and under the control of the uncle she hated. If she thought to avoid her fate, she'd be disappointed, another prospect Malcolm relished. But where did she intend to stay? Surely she was just stopping by Kildalton to pay her respects. He lifted an eyebrow. "Why would you come to me?"
"Oh! I've been too bold." She ducked her head, but not before he saw a flush stain her cheeks. "Island life loosens the manners and the tongue, or so the visitors say. It's just that you and I were so close when we were young. I couldn't have survived Sinclair without knowing you were only two hours away."
Years before, she'd driven a knife into his pride. Did she think to twist it with sweet words and false sentiment? She would wither into a hag before she succeeded. "We were close all right, especially when you held a dirk to my throat and tied me to a tree." He shuddered at the thought of what had come after.
She reached for the carriage door. "Let's not squabble. I'm harmless now, I assure you."
Oh, aye, he thought, as harmless as Eve with a bushel of quinces. But he was no naive Adam, languishing in Eden and yearning for forbidden fruit. He was a lord of the Border, perilously trapped between Jacobite clan chiefs to the north and loyal English subjects to the south. He had not needed another pretty diversion. He'd wanted retribution. So he'd meddled in Alpin's future and reduced her alternatives to none.
"Perhaps," he said, watching her fondle the brass handle, "you would care to join me for supper before you continue on your way."
Her hand stilled; then she brought it to her side. "Continue on my way?" She again craned her neck to look at him. "I came to see you, Malcolm. I thought you would want that."
Oh, he did, but their meetings would be at his convenience and in her uncle's English manor house. "You can't expect to stay here at Kildalton. 'Tis unseemly. After we've eaten, I'll have Alexander escort you across the border to Sinclair."
"My staying here is unseemly?" She chuckled. "Thank you for attempting to flatter me and guard my reputation, but I've been on the shelf for so many years, I'm dusty. Unless you are concerned about your reputation. Have you turned out to be a rogue, Malcolm?"
He braced his hands on his hips and laughed so hard the tassels on his sporran quivered. "If I have, Alpin, you can rest assured I'll keep my lusty proclivities on a short leash. But what would a spinster be knowing about rogues?"
Her mouth dropped open, and she slapped her band against her cheek. "It's your wife, isn't it?"
Humor vanished. The old enmity returned in full force. Because of her, he would never marry. She couldn't know that, but if the gossips in Whitley Bay had told her of
"Will you, Malcolm?"
"That depends. Why are you here now?"
New tears filled her eyes. "You mean why am I here at last . Oh, Malcolm. I begged Charles to send me home. There was never enough money, he said. Then after dear Adrienne died he hardly spoke at all. The rum finally killed him, you know. He did leave me a stipend. So I dashed out straightaway and bought passage on the first packet home."
"Come now, Alpin," he scoffed. "You hated the Borders."
"I hated everything and almost everyone then, or have you forgotten?" As if brushing away a pesky insect, she waved her hand. "Enough about me. I've a surprise in the carriage."
Malcolm shortened his long stride to match her quick, determined steps. He wondered what sort of wounded creature she'd brought. As they approached the carriage he noticed the trunks and hatboxes fastened to the boot. "You haven't been to see your uncle?"
She sent him a puzzled frown. "Do you know, it never occurred to me to go to Sinclair Manor. I only thought of coming to you."
He'd schemed to return her to Sinclair Manor and under the control of the uncle she hated. If she thought to avoid her fate, she'd be disappointed, another prospect Malcolm relished. But where did she intend to stay? Surely she was just stopping by Kildalton to pay her respects. He lifted an eyebrow. "Why would you come to me?"
"Oh! I've been too bold." She ducked her head, but not before he saw a flush stain her cheeks. "Island life loosens the manners and the tongue, or so the visitors say. It's just that you and I were so close when we were young. I couldn't have survived Sinclair without knowing you were only two hours away."
Years before, she'd driven a knife into his pride. Did she think to twist it with sweet words and false sentiment? She would wither into a hag before she succeeded. "We were close all right, especially when you held a dirk to my throat and tied me to a tree." He shuddered at the thought of what had come after.
She reached for the carriage door. "Let's not squabble. I'm harmless now, I assure you."
Oh, aye, he thought, as harmless as Eve with a bushel of quinces. But he was no naive Adam, languishing in Eden and yearning for forbidden fruit. He was a lord of the Border, perilously trapped between Jacobite clan chiefs to the north and loyal English subjects to the south. He had not needed another pretty diversion. He'd wanted retribution. So he'd meddled in Alpin's future and reduced her alternatives to none.
"Perhaps," he said, watching her fondle the brass handle, "you would care to join me for supper before you continue on your way."
Her hand stilled; then she brought it to her side. "Continue on my way?" She again craned her neck to look at him. "I came to see you, Malcolm. I thought you would want that."
Oh, he did, but their meetings would be at his convenience and in her uncle's English manor house. "You can't expect to stay here at Kildalton. 'Tis unseemly. After we've eaten, I'll have Alexander escort you across the border to Sinclair."
"My staying here is unseemly?" She chuckled. "Thank you for attempting to flatter me and guard my reputation, but I've been on the shelf for so many years, I'm dusty. Unless you are concerned about your reputation. Have you turned out to be a rogue, Malcolm?"
He braced his hands on his hips and laughed so hard the tassels on his sporran quivered. "If I have, Alpin, you can rest assured I'll keep my lusty proclivities on a short leash. But what would a spinster be knowing about rogues?"
Her mouth dropped open, and she slapped her band against her cheek. "It's your wife, isn't it?"
Humor vanished. The old enmity returned in full force. Because of her, he would never marry. She couldn't know that, but if the gossips in Whitley Bay had told her of
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