Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(83)

Any hope of going back to sleep was lost, so Lottie got up and dressed and went out into the bailey. It was quite early yet; the few souls she saw were servants preparing for the day’s work. She made her way to the gardens, which she’d discovered early on. At least once a day she came to wander through the roses and rhododendrons. It was bonny here, tranquil. A tiny slice of heaven, as her mother used to say about her own garden. It was the only place in Balhaire Lottie could go to forget about her fate.

“You’re about early.”

She was startled by the sound of Aulay’s voice and jerked around as he strolled into the garden, pausing to study a rhododendron that had grown quite tall. He was wearing the plaid again, his hair loose around his shoulders. He looked wild and untamed to her. Entirely seductive, overwhelmingly enticing. The devil in tartan again.

“Aye, and what brings you here so early, then?”

“You.”

Her breath caught. She arched a brow.

“I saw you from the window.” He paused just a few feet from her, but it hardly mattered the distance. There seemed always something so palpable when he was near, a raw need that buzzed between them. She knew that he felt it, too—she could see it in the way his eyes glimmered.

“Would you like a wee adventure?” he asked, and squatted down to pick up a long leaf that had fallen onto the path.

He didn’t need to ask—of course she would like a wee adventure, anything to take her from her thoughts. “What sort?”

“My nephew, Lord Chatwick, has a hunting lodge no’ far from here. It is closed for the season.” He looked up from his study of the leaf. “It has a bonny view of the hills.”

She’d seen the hills. She’d walked through them with him, to Balhaire. “I’m no’ to leave Balhaire.”

He slowly rose to his full height. “I’ll see to it that you are returned in due course.”

“Are we to walk?”

“We’ll ride. I donna have a pony for you, but if you can manage it, I’ve a horse.”

Her heart began to skip. She’d given her word she’d not leave Balhaire. What he was suggesting was different than a walk down to the cove, which was still in plain sight of Balhaire. “My brothers will—”

“Catriona will see to them, I’ve no doubt. Well, then?”

She would go, of course she would go, she would go anywhere with this man, for as long as she was able. “Then aye, Captain, I can manage a horse.”

Aulay saddled two horses himself, and before anyone was about, before shop fronts had opened or anyone had appeared to break their fast, before Gilroy and Beaty began to argue, or Mr. MacLean wrote another letter to his wife, or Duff staged another play, Lottie and Aulay departed Balhaire on horseback.

They rode away from the sea and up a meadowed glen. After a half hour, she could see the glint of a loch in the distance, and as they neared it, a white manor house on the shores of the loch. “Arrandale,” Aulay said, pointing to it. “Rabbie and Bernadette make their home there.”

From there, he turned south, and led them onto a wooded path. It was dark and cool in among the trees, the path dappled by the sun shining through a thick canopy of branches. When they emerged into another meadow, she could see another house.

“’Tis the lodge, Auchenard,” he said.

“A lodge,” she said, her voice full of wonder. It was smaller than the others, but to Lottie, it was just as grand. “It’s so beautiful, aye?”

Aulay dismounted on the front lawn, then held her horse as she hopped down. “It’s quite big for hunting, is it no’?” she asked curiously.

“It was built by an English earl. They prefer grandeur to simplicity, aye?”

Lottie wouldn’t know—she’d never met an Englishman that she could recall. It was one of the hopes she’d had for her future. She longed to see their grand houses, to see London, to see what proper ladies wore. That dream had crumbled along with her other hopes in the last fortnight.

He walked to the front door and tried it, but it was locked. “Rabbie keeps the house for Cailean and my nephew. Tight as a ship, it is. Stay here,” he said, and disappeared around the corner of the house. Several moments passed before she heard some clanking behind the front door. It swung open and Aulay bowed. “Madam,” he said, and gestured grandly to the entrance.

She stepped inside and looked around. The musty smell of the house, the sheets covering the furnishings, indicated the house had been closed for a long time. Most of the windows were covered, too, painted with soap. Aulay led Lottie down a dark hallway and into a larger room, which she supposed was the salon. The ceiling was several feet over her head, criss-crossed with thick wood beams. A massive hearth stood cold at one end, the smell of ash still quite pronounced. Aulay pushed aside heavy drapes from the windows, revealing a surprisingly fine view of a loch at the bottom of an overgrown green lawn. The surface of the loch was smooth as glass, glittering in the sun. Behind the loch, hills rose up in shades of dark green, gold and purple.

Lottie pressed a hand to her chest as she took in the beauty of the lodge’s surroundings, awestruck. “I’ve no’ seen a view as fine as this, on my word.”

“Aye,” Aulay agreed. But was not looking at the view. He was looking at her.

They continued their tour of the lodge, eventually wandering upstairs. The master suite of rooms had a similar view as the room downstairs. Aulay opened windows, pushing them out, allowing a breeze to waft in and settle the dust. “I’ve always longed to see grand places like Balhaire and Auchenard. I am grateful that I’ve had the chance.”