Chapter Fourteen
Victoria hurried down the hall to find Royal slouched on the floor by the library door and Angus pacing back and forth, all but wearing a path in the carpet. She paused to draw in a calming breath. The dramatics of the last few days were proving exceedingly trying—as were all the Kendrick men, starting with the earl and moving down the line.
Spotting her, Angus extracted an ancient-looking timepiece from his vest pocket. “Is the lad asleep? It’s well-nigh eleven o’clock.”
“Yes, finally. The poor boy was clearly worn out.” Her short tone had the two men exchanging a guilty glance.
“How is he?” Royal asked as he pushed against the wall and clambered to his feet. “When I tried to talk to him, he would only say that we were all fatheads, and that he intended to ignore us until we stopped fighting.”
“He’s embarrassed by his family’s behavior.”
Angus bristled. “Embarrassed by his own family? Ridiculous.”
“Personally, I think it’s a sad state of affairs when a fifteen-year-old boy has more sense than his elders,” she said.
The old man propped his hands on his hips. “Now, see here, lassie—”
“Oh, give over, Grandda,” Royal interrupted. “She’s right. We are fatheads, and that includes Nick.”
Victoria glanced at the library door. “I’m assuming his lordship has yet to respond to any requests for admittance?”
“He has yet to respond to anything,” Royal said tartly. “We’ve banged and yelled but he’s ignored us.”
Angus slumped against the wall. “He’s swallowed a hare.”
Victoria frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“He’s drunk, Miss Knight,” Royal said. “Royally drunk.”
“But his lordship rarely has more than a glass or two of wine at dinner.” She’d never once seen him even slightly tipsy.
“True,” Royal said, “but he’s been drinking ever since Logan showed up.”
“That’s bad,” she said.
“Lassie, ye have no idea how bad it truly is,” Angus said with a sigh.
After the scene this afternoon, she’d taken Kade up to the schoolroom. They’d spoken a bit about Logan, though the boy hadn’t wanted to discuss the incident that had led to the death of Arnprior’s son or the estrangement between the brothers. All she could do was focus Kade on his studies as the best way to pass the time until someone came to speak to him.
When several hours passed with no visit from the earl or anyone else, Victoria had grown almost as worried as her young pupil. They’d finally gone down to dinner only to learn that the earl had ordered everyone to leave him alone and then holed up in his library.
“Then perhaps ye’d better tell her how bad it is,” came Mrs. Taffy’s voice from behind.
Victoria spun around to see the housekeeper in her neat cap and snowy apron, calmly regarding them.
“Dammit, woman,” yelped Angus, scowling at Taffy. “Ye all but gave me a heart attack, sneakin’ up like that.”
“Taffy never sneaks,” Royal said. “She’s just very, very quiet.”
The housekeeper threw a glance at the library door. “He hasna come out yet?”
Angus gloomily shook his head.
“That is bad,” she said fretfully. “I think you should let Miss Knight have a try.”
“Try what?” Victoria asked, surprised.
“Try to talk to him. The laird is not listening to his own family, and who could blame the puir man for that?”
“He won’t like it,” Angus warned. “No talking family business to outsiders.”
Victoria sighed. “All this secrecy is getting to be quite trying, I must say.”
“You’re not truly an outsider anymore,” Royal said.
It certainly didn’t feel that way, but it wasn’t Victoria’s place to comment.
“Hmm,” Angus said, “I think yer right about that, lad. And the laird would agree, I reckon.”
A faint warning bell sounded in Victoria’s mind. “I’m not sure—”
Angus interrupted her. “Ye ken the earl had a little boy named Cameron?”
She nodded. “Yes, and that he died in some way that led to an estrangement between the earl and his brother.”
“Cameron drowned when he was four years old,” Royal said bluntly.
“I . . . I’m so sorry,” Victoria stammered.
“After the laird’s wife passed, that little boy was everything to him,” Taffy said with a quiet sorrow. “Master Cameron had the sweetest disposition, much like his uncle Kade.”
“The laird was never the same,” Angus said. “Cam’s death all but destroyed the family.”
“Why does he blame Logan?” Victoria asked.
“It was Logan’s suggestion to take the boy fishing,” Royal said. “He’d got Cam a little rod and reel for his birthday, and the lad was excited to try it out with his uncles. Nick was busy that day and couldn’t join us, but Logan promised he wouldn’t let Cam step a foot away from him.”
Victoria pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling sick as her mind conjured awful scenarios. She’d seen a drowning once, at Brighton, and the horrible event had stuck in her mind for months afterward.
“We took him to a favorite spot—a burn just north of here that runs into the loch,” Royal continued. “It was spring, and the water was running fast. As was Cam,” he added with a bittersweet smile. “He was so excited, the scamp. Logan was practically run off his feet keeping him out of trouble.”
“But he did get in trouble,” Victoria said gently. “What happened?”
Taffy sighed. “A lass happened. As usual, with Logan.”
“One of the daughters of the local gentry happened by,” added Royal. “She was out riding. Logan was not a man to be tied down, but he actually seemed serious about that girl.”
Angus heaved a sigh. “Aye, the lad was always a dab hand with the lassies. But he was fair taken with that one. Pretty as a picture, she was.”
“Naturally, she pulled his attention away from Cam. The twins and I were farther upstream, just far enough away to make a difference. When Cam slipped and fell into the water, only Kade was close enough to make a grab for him.”
Victoria gasped. “Kade went in after him?”
“Without a second thought,” Royal said, shaking his head. “That boy has more heart than the rest of us put together. As soon as he saw what was happening, Logan went in and started swimming for Cam, while I went after Kade. I managed to reach the boy and pull him back to shore, but barely. It’s a miracle we didn’t both drown in that swift current.”
“That was when Kade caught that terrible fever,” said Taffy. “He’s been delicate ever since.”
“The earl blames Logan for that as well, I suspect,” Victoria said. The others didn’t deny it.
Royal continued the grim tale. “The current swept Cam downstream toward the loch. We knew that if Logan didn’t reach him before then, there would be no hope of saving him.”
“But he did reach him,” she said softly.
Royal nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Logan battled the cold and the current for what seemed like forever. He wouldn’t give up, even when we all knew it was too late to save Cam.” He rubbed his chest, as if it pained him. “But he got the lad, he did. At least he was able to bring his body home to Nick.”
For a few seconds, Victoria couldn’t speak. “What a horrific nightmare,” she finally managed. She thought of her own childhood. For all its tensions and strains, it was idyllic compared to what this family had suffered.
Angus rubbed his eyes and sniffed, so sad that Victoria wanted to envelop him in a hug. “We thought puir Nick would lose his wits when he saw the wee laddie dead.”
Royal seemed to shake free of his emotion, resuming the story in a flat voice. “Yes, it was an awful scene. Nick blamed Logan, and they . . . fought. I’ll spare you the details. Eventually, we managed to calm Nick down, mostly because Kade needed our attention. After Cam’s funeral, Nick barely left Kade’s side.”
“Except to toss Logan out on his arse,” Angus said bitterly. “That was when Nick told him never to step foot on Kendrick lands again.”
“Can you blame him?” Taffy said sharply.
“Nay, but it isna right for them to still be feudin’. They’ve both suffered the guilt for too long.”
“If there’s one thing Nick does well it’s feel guilt,” Royal said.
“It seems to run in the family,” Victoria commented.
“Ah, nicely done, Miss Knight,” Royal said with the ghost of a smile. “Are there any other trenchant observations you’d like to make about us?”
“Possibly, but time is pressing and I’m growing quite concerned about Lord Arnprior. As are you, or you wouldn’t be lingering in the hall like Macbeth’s witches.”
“There’s no need to be insulting, lassie,” Angus said indignantly.
She scoffed. “I can think of much worse insults to level at your family right now, sir. But the question remains—what is the earl doing in there?”
“Drinking himself into a stupor,” Royal said.
“If that’s all it is, then he’ll recover,” Victoria said. “But is that all he’s going to do?” She was beginning to get a very bad feeling about the earl’s state of mind.
“Are you afraid he might hurt himself?” Royal asked. “I wouldn’t have said it was possible, but I haven’t seen Nick this low—or this drunk—in years.”
“It’s more likely he’ll go after Logan and shoot him,” Angus said in a tone that suggested she should be consoled by that notion.
“No one is shooting anyone.” Victoria rapped loudly on the library door. “Lord Arnprior, it’s Miss Knight. I’d like to speak with you.”
A deafening silence met her effort. She placed her ear against the door, but either the oak was too thick or the earl had fallen into a stupor—or worse.
She banged louder. “Sir, it’s Miss Knight. Open up, please.”
Angus winced. “Och, lass, if he dinna hear that yelling, he’s already gone to the other side.”
“And if he isn’t dead, I’m quite sure he knows it’s you,” Royal said with a glimmer of humor.
“I fail to see the humor in the situation,” she snapped.
“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” Royal said.
Victoria forced herself to ignore his jibe. “Is there another key to this room?”
“Taffy had one, but Nick made her hand it over,” Royal said.
“The laird was insistent,” Taffy said unhappily. “I’ve been going through the old keys to see if I can find an extra, but no luck yet.”
Victoria sighed. “Can you keep looking?”
With a brisk nod, the housekeeper retreated to the main part of the house.
“We need to get into that room now,” Victoria said, fighting a growing sense of panic.
Angus shook his head. “The laird gave strict orders to be left alone.”
“Not to me. Is there another way we can get in?”
Royal snapped his fingers. “Good God, yes. The library windows overlooking the loch. If one is open, I can climb in and—”
“No, I will climb in and speak to the earl,” Victoria interrupted. “He clearly has no desire to talk to any of you. I cannot say I blame him, since you are all acting like fatheads.”
She ignored spluttering protests from Angus and set off toward the rear entrance to the wing.
Royal caught up with her. “Miss Knight, if he is awake, my brother is bound to be in a very foul mood. God only knows what he could do.”
“What he will not do is hurt me,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. She was unnerved by the notion of venturing into Arnprior’s lair, but she couldn’t bear the idea of him suffering alone and without comfort.
“She’s right,” said Angus, who stomped along behind them. “Best let the lassie try her hand first.”
Victoria glanced over her shoulder. “You actually agree with me?”
The old man gave her a bland smile. “No harm in tryin’.”
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Angus was up to something, but she didn’t have leisure to parse the bizarre turns of his mind.
“You’re both crazy,” Royal said as he picked up the night lamp from the small table by the door.
“That we are, laddie,” Angus said with a suspiciously cheerful demeanor.
They carefully picked their way around the side of the west wing. It was a dark night, with only a waning crescent moon to cast a pale shimmer over the gardens. The old tower house loomed like a ghostly remnant from ancient times, a few of its casement windows glowing with soft light. A cold wind gusted off the loch, the waves pounding against the shore with a distant crash.
All around them, the mountains were massive, inky blots against the sky, craggy peaks outlined by faint moonlight. It was a primitive, forbidding landscape, and Victoria couldn’t repress an apprehensive shiver. Nor could she rid herself of the sense that something monumental was about to happen. If the king of the fairies had risen up from the ground before them, she wouldn’t have been surprised.
Of course, she did not believe in premonitions, apparitions, fairies, silkies, or any other such Scottish nonsense. She was simply cold.
Royal voiced her thought. “You’re not dressed for this weather.”
“How perceptive of you to notice.”
His only reply was a chuckle.
Angus, who’d gone ahead of them, peered into one of the library windows. “I canna see a bloody thing.”
Victoria went up on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. The only light in the room came from the fire, which had burned low. It barely penetrated the Stygian gloom. She could make out the outlines of the big leather club chair in front of the grate, and the gleam from the polished leather of large booted feet.
“I believe his lordship is sitting near the fire,” she said.
Royal elbowed Angus aside. “He’s not moving, from the looks of it. Probably drunk as an emperor by now.”
“Then we can only hope he’s fallen asleep,” Victoria said. “If so, I can open the door and let you both in. Then you or the footmen can carry him to his room.”
“If you can find the key to the door,” Royal said. “He might not have left it in the lock.”
“Oh, blast. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Ye can search his body,” Angus said in a helpful tone. “I’m sure Nick wouldna mind.”
“I will do no such thing, Mr. MacDonald.” Victoria couldn’t help blushing at the idea of running her hands over the earl’s brawny form. Thank God it was too dark for anyone to see her color up.
Royal smothered a laugh. “If it’s not in the door, it’s probably in his waistcoat pocket. I’m sure there will be no need to violate my brother’s dignity in any comprehensive way.”
“Please just open the window,” Victoria ordered.
She saw the gleam of Royal’s teeth as he smiled. Then he wrestled with the sash for a moment before opening the window.
“Last chance,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in?”
Her nerve failed for a moment, then she shook her head. “No, the earl is probably asleep. And if he’s not, he’s less likely to fire up at me than he is at one of you.”
“She’s right, lad,” Angus said.
“I don’t like it, but I suspect that’s true,” Royal said. “Up with you, then.”
He took her by the waist and boosted her up onto the sill. She perched for a moment, getting her bearings, then swung her legs over and dropped down to the floor. Treading as softly as she could, she made her way toward the fireplace.
The earl’s lanky body was stretched out in the club chair, his boots propped against the firedogs and his hands laced over his stomach. His chin rested on his chest, his posture deeply relaxed. Even before hearing the slow, steady rhythm of his breath, she’d known he was asleep.
She spied an empty whisky decanter on the floor beside his chair, along with a crystal tumbler on its side. The earl had obviously drunk his way into blessed oblivion. Still, a frown marked his brow and worry lines bracketed his mouth, signs that restless dreams disturbed his slumber. She wished she could smooth them away with a gentle stroke of her fingertips.
Or her mouth . . .
Victoria almost jumped out of her shoes when Angus’s stentorian whisper echoed through the silence. “What’s happening, lassie?” he hissed.
She pressed a hand over her thudding heart. “He’s . . . he’s asleep.”
“Check the door for the key,” Royal said quietly.
“Right.” She scolded herself for being a ninny as she hurried over to the door. Why was she fantasizing about kissing Arnprior? Even in her dreams, she had no business thinking of her employer in so scandalous a manner, no matter how handsome he might be.
And no matter how much she was convinced he needed her—needed her in some way she had yet to define.
There was no confounded key in the door. But just to make sure, she rattled the knob. The door remained firmly locked.
A freezing gust blew through the open window, causing the drapes to billow out like a giant’s cloak. Shivering, she hurried back to the others.
“It’s not there,” she said.
“Naturally,” Royal said.
Angus, now carrying the lamp, jerked it up to look at her. With the light flickering erratically over the men’s faces, casting their eyes into deeply shadowed sockets, they looked rather like ghouls.
Victoria tried to repress a shiver, annoyed that she was letting her nerves get the best of her.
“Are ye all right, lassie?” Angus asked.
“Yes, but it’s gotten very cold, hasn’t it?” The wind off the loch had picked up.
“Aye, cold enough to freeze the brass—”
“Yes, quite,” she hastily said. “I suggest you gentlemen go back inside and wait by the library door. I’ll find the key and let you in.”
“I think I should come in now,” Royal said, preparing to hoist up.
“You’ll do no such thing,” she said. Royal had been favoring his leg all day and the last thing Victoria needed was an injured man on top of an inebriated one. “I’m perfectly capable of searching for the key and letting you in as soon as I find it.”
“If my brother wakes up—”
She shoved him back and started to pull down the sash. “He’ll only wake up if you keep arguing.”
“But—”
She closed the window in their faces. When they scowled at her through the glass, she made a shooing motion, then soft-footed her way back to the earl.
The fire had burned down to embers that cast a soft glow, highlighting the planes of the earl’s rugged face. He hadn’t stirred, even though they’d made an ungodly amount of noise.
Arnprior’s hands were loosely clasped over his stomach, making it tricky to reach into his waistcoat pocket without waking him. If he came awake while she was in the midst of groping him, he could only think such behavior was highly inappropriate on the part of his employee.
Well, as her grandfather used to say, nothing tried, nothing gained.
Leaning over him—and trying to ignore the rise and fall of his exceedingly brawny chest—she carefully pushed aside the edges of his tailcoat. Thank God he’d unbuttoned that, at least. The thought of undressing him to any degree was having a rather marked effect on her pulse.
She’d just started to wriggle a hand into the pocket of his waistcoat when he moved so quickly that it was a blur. Between one breath and the next, he’d wrapped his long fingers around her wrist.
Startled, she let out a squeak and all but toppled into his lap. He clapped his other hand around her waist, holding her steady but awkwardly poised over him.
She jerked her head up to look at him. His amazing eyes gleamed at her like molten silver.
“Why, Victoria Knight,” he purred in a low, seductive voice. “What in the world are you doing?”