Regency Proposal: The Laird's Forbidden Lady / Haunted by the Earl's Touch

She winced. ‘I said I’d be back in an hour.’ She raised herself up and peered over his shoulder. A severe-looking Angus with a knobby walking stick was striding towards them. She waved.

Ian’s lips pressed tight. He drew the cart up when he came abreast of the big Scot.

‘My Lady. Laird.’ Angus touched the bonnet perched on his head. ‘Thank ye for bringing the lassie home.’

Selina let go a breath. No yelling. No harsh words. A simple grim politeness, but then the Highlanders were known for their impeccable manners. Some of them.

Jaw set, Ian nodded. ‘I’ll drive her in.’

‘Best not. I’ll take her and the horse in through the gate.’

‘Angus,’ she gasped.

‘I’ve no wish to enter the keep,’ Ian said harshly. He clicked his tongue and the horse moved onwards. ‘Not while it belongs to another.’

The whip of his words caught her on the raw. She was wrong about him. He resented her just as much as he always had.

And there was something she’d been putting off saying. She’d forgotten until just now. She’d have to hurry if she didn’t want Angus to overhear.

‘I never thanked you for calling your brother Andrew home after I wrote to you.’

He stiffened, his face turning granite hard.

‘My friend, she is happily married now. It … it all turned out for the best.’

‘Did it now?’

‘It was good of you.’ His granite expression made it hard to continue. ‘I just wanted to thank you.’

His lips twisted into a bitter line. ‘And one good turn deserves another. You’ll no mention the changes at the mill to your father.’ The cart lurched to a halt beside the stone arch.

Her stomach dipped. It was hardly the kind of response to her thanks she’d expected. He was waiting for her answer. She straightened her shoulders. ‘No. I won’t say a thing.’

Then Angus was there, reaching into the back of the wagon to help her down.

The dog lifted his lip and growled low in his throat.

Selina laughed, albeit the sound a little brittle, but true to form, and Angus noticed nothing. ‘You’ll have to get past my protector, Mr McIver.’

Angus glanced up at Ian. How odd. She’d meant the dog.

‘Gilly,’ Ian growled. ‘Down.’

The dog put its ears down and thumped its tail, sending up a puff of dust. Angus lifted her down.

‘Can ye walk, lass?’ He handed her his stick. A solid, gnarled length of hawthorn.

She gave him a grateful smile. ‘This will certainly help.’

The old Scot untied Topaz, grasped him by the bridle. Together they walked towards the gate

At the sound of the cart pulling away, she glanced back and met Ian’s dark gaze. He nodded, a slight movement of his head, yet it seemed to say I trust you not to betray me.

And she wouldn’t. She never had.

Her heart was pounding as if she had run a mile, when really she had only walked the few steps from the manse. It was excitement causing her heart to beat faster, not the fear of seeing Ian again. Or the prospect of seeing his pleasure at the news she brought.

Dry-mouthed, she knocked on the door of his house. One of the few not owned by her father. Some long time ago, Ian’s grandfather had married well, giving the family the house, some land and the mill, according to her father. And they’d been a thorn in the side of every Albright since.

If they would just work together … Perhaps they could now, if Ian’s pride would let him accept her offer. Half-afraid she might turn and run, she knocked again. Breath held, she listened to the sound of footsteps on the other side.

The door swung back and Ian stared at her, his mouth dropping open. He was in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. His throat was bare, where he had not donned a cravat. He looked thoroughly rakish and disreputable. Inside she winced. Clearly, she should have warned him of her intended visit.

He rubbed at his chin with an ink-stained thumb as he clearly tried to recover from his surprise. ‘Lady Selina?’ He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped outside to join her on the front step, pulling the door almost closed behind him, as if he did not want whoever was inside to know she was there.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. A bright smile formed on her lips. It always did when she was nervous. She nodded regally. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Gilvry.’

The wary look on his face remained. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I have something to show you.’

‘What sort of something?’

Always suspicious. She pulled the key from her reticule. ‘This.’

‘Who is it, Ian?’ a woman’s voice called from inside the house.

‘No one, Ma,’ he called back. ‘Wait here a moment,’ he said to Selina. He shot back inside and closed the door.

He definitely didn’t want whoever was inside to know who had called. Most likely she was his mother. The minister had told her and Chrissie that Mrs Gilvry had been ill for some time. Selina walked down the short garden path to the lane. She didn’t want her presence to cause him any embarrassment. Nor did she want to be caught on his front step by one of his younger brothers.

A few moments passed before he joined her, properly dressed in his coat with a belcher knotted at his throat.

‘I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,’ he said politely.

‘Not at all.’

‘What is this about?’

The way he said ‘about’ made her toes curl in her sensible half-boots. ‘It is a surprise.’

‘A pleasant one, I hope?’

She cast him a glance from under the brim of her chip-straw bonnet. ‘I believe even you will think so.’

They walked in silence for a few minutes, towards the manse, then she turned onto a narrow lane with stone walls on either side that led around the back of the church.

Excitement bubbled up in her chest again. He had to be pleased. He could not turn down this gift of hers. Well, hers and Chrissie’s. They had plotted it all out for two days, talking and explaining, until Father had thrown his hands in the air and told them to do just as they pleased, because they were going to anyway, with or without his permission.