Night of the Highland Dragon Read Free

they’ve more feeling for what they leave behind. I’m sure of it.”
    â€œMaybe,” said Judith, and it was her turn to be dubious.
    â€œYou’re here, aren’t you? And your brothers all away?”
    â€œYes,” said Judith, and she didn’t add “for now” or “after a hundred years or so” or any of the other replies that might have sprung to her lips.
    She was trying to think of a less-revealing argument when the door opened a crack. “Mum?” Agnes’s daughter, Claire, stuck her face through the opening. She was sixteen, all blithe, blond prettiness, and Judith still couldn’t get used to it. In her mind, Claire was still a toddling girl with braids and a jam-covered face. “There’s a man here looking for lodgings.”
    â€œYou might be right,” Judith said to Agnes. “Not about men and women—about this year.”
    â€œIt’s the railroads. I’m sure of it. Show him in, Claire,” Agnes said. “We’ll give him a cup of tea while we hear what he has to say. And,” she added, lowering her voice as her daughter headed off, “you might as well get a look at the man. He’s likely to be the most excitement we have around here for a fortnight, unless someone’s barn catches fire.”
    At first glance, the guest didn’t look particularly exciting.
    Oh, he was handsome: tall but not lanky, with broad shoulders and muscular legs and neatly cut hair the color of the turning leaves outside, graying just enough at the temples to lend him a distinguished air. Looking at him was a pleasant diversion. But Judith, who’d diverted herself with handsome men a few times when she’d been younger and had more freedom, didn’t think his presence was going to be the year’s thrill for her.
    Claire’s sudden need to rearrange the parlor knickknacks indicated that she felt otherwise, but that was sixteen.
    Hat in hand, the visitor bowed smoothly. “I do hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said in a voice thick with public school and university. His clothes were tweed, Judith noted, and practical but of good quality and—if she recalled her brothers’ wardrobes correctly—in the latest London fashion.
    As he spoke, he looked around the parlor, his blue eyes taking in the deep-red wallpaper and the stuffed horsehide chairs, the mahogany table and the damask cloth. In his face, Judith saw careful, if quick evaluation, then satisfied confirmation. All was in order; he’d found what he’d expected in a place like this.
    â€œOch, no,” said Agnes, giving him her warmest smile for prospective boarders. “Have yourself a seat and a wee bite. We’ve plenty to go around.”
    â€œI’m greatly obliged,” said the man. “Do I have the privilege of addressing Mrs. Simon?”
    Agnes smiled again. “Aye, you do. And this,” she said with a gesture, “is Lady Judith MacAlasdair.”
    Already knowing what would happen, Judith saw the stranger’s face freeze briefly in surprise. Where he was from, ladies didn’t take tea with boardinghouse keepers. That had been true when Judith was young, and from everything she’d heard, the boundaries had only gotten firmer—Stephen’s decision to marry a commoner from the East End notwithstanding. She smiled into the man’s startled expression, as blandly polite as she could manage. “A pleasure, sir.”
    Soon enough, and quicker than Judith would have expected, she saw the man recover himself, no doubt thinking that a tiny Scottish village didn’t operate by the same standards as civilized society. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” he said. “I’m William Arundell.”
    Judith would have bet the castle and half a month’s rent that he had at least two middle names too, at least one of them along the lines of Percival or Chauncey .
    In the