My Highland Rogue Read online

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In the next two days, every maid, footman, and stable boy came to Sean’s cottage to extend their condolences, and to stand in mute testimony of the fragility of life beside his coffin.

  The cottage hadn’t been empty since Sean’s death. Because Gordon was his only close relative, the staff at Adaire Hall had taken up the duties of family. Sean’s body was never left alone but was watched over by two women taking turns. In the morning Sally and Moira surprised him as the next to be Sean’s guardians.

  Gordon heard countless tales of Sean, vignettes of memory that painted the man as kinder than the person Gordon had known. Someone with a sense of humor that he’d rarely seen. He couldn’t help but wonder if the stories had any basis in truth, or if people conjured up something nice to say about Sean McDonnell for his sake.

  He thanked each one of them, never saying what was in his mind: that whatever he learned about Sean couldn’t offset his greater sin. He didn’t care about the man’s sense of humor, or his fairness to underlings, or how he’d always personally selected the flowers for the countess’s morning table. For three years—or longer—he’d kept a terrible secret safe, and for that Gordon would never forgive him.

  Most people who entered the cottage asked him if he’d heard the dead jack. Evidently, the sound, similar to the ticking of a watch, was an omen known to be present prior at most deaths. He hadn’t.

  Sean’s body had been washed and wrapped in a winding sheet and laid on the strykin board provided by Adaire Hall’s carpenter. The long flat board was wider and longer than any table in the cottage and would hold the body until the coffin was ready. The front room furniture had been rearranged, the strykin board supported on two chairs, and this was where Sean lay, candles kept burning beside him. When it was time, the kistan—the laying of the body in the coffin—was held, and close friends were invited to attend. A penny was placed on each of Sean’s eyes and a plate of salt on his chest.

  Jennifer had been one of the first to pay her respects. Gordon had forced himself to remain standing in the front room, but other than thanking her for coming, he didn’t speak.

  When he did address her, he found it easier to stare at the far wall above her head, someplace where he didn’t have to look at her face, or see the expression in her eyes.

  She’d been part of his life, even those five years when he hadn’t been physically near her. He’d wondered about her endlessly, allowing his daydreams to carry him into her life at Adaire Hall. Somehow, he was going to have to exorcize her, see her not as someone with whom he could share a future, but only someone he’d known in his past.

  Harrison also showed up on the first day. No doubt because it was expected of him, or because Jennifer had lectured him on the duties of an earl. After sending a cursory glance in Sean’s direction, he announced his real reason for coming to the cottage.

  “The new head gardener will be moving in soon. You’ll have to be quit of this place by the day after the funeral. You’re not going to give me any trouble about this, are you?”

  Gordon had been able to rein in his emotions for most of the day, but it had been difficult, especially with Jennifer. The last thing he wanted was to be pushed to the edge of his restraint by Harrison’s words.

  “Do you expect me to give you trouble? Why, do you think I want to fight for the right to live in the gardener’s cottage? Don’t be an ass. Or is that an impossible task, Harrison?”

  Several people filed into the cottage and looked at the two of them curiously. Gordon didn’t care. Let the world hear what he thought.

  “You’re an ass. You’ve been an ass as long as I’ve known you. When you were younger, you were a younger ass. Time has done nothing for your character, your demeanor, or your inability to get along with anyone. You look at the world as if it’s filled with people who are supposed to identify your every whim, then serve it. You don’t see people as they are. Half the time I don’t think you even know someone else is around. I’m genuinely surprised that you ever married. Perhaps your mother had something to say about that, wanting to see you settled before she died.”

  “Don’t talk about my mother, you bastard.”

  He was so tempted to tell Harrison the truth in that moment. However, he wasn’t about to give the other man either the upper hand or a warning. Instead, let him be blindsided by the court case.

  “I’ve never been bothered by names, by the way. You can call me anything you want. I only give credence to those insults from people I respect. Believe me, you’re not among that exalted group. You won’t have any difficulty getting me to leave this accursed place.”

  He turned on his heel and left the cottage. Anywhere was preferable to being around Harrison.

  Something was wrong, and Jennifer didn’t know what it was.

  She hadn’t seen Gordon for more than a few minutes since his father died. Some of that was understandable, because there were preparations that had to be made and Gordon needed to be part of those as Sean’s son.

  Twice she’d tried to see him, but had been told that he couldn’t come to the cottage door. She saw him walking toward the loch one afternoon and almost caught up with him. She didn’t, because she knew he’d seen her, yet he made no effort to flag her down or try to capture her attention.

  He was avoiding her, but she didn’t know why.

  She had meals taken to the cottage. When Moira or Sally returned the trays, they made certain to thank Cook, but didn’t say if Gordon had eaten. She assumed he had, just one of many assumptions she had to make in the past few days.

  Although she hadn’t been able to talk with him, she made the funeral arrangements, just as she would have if he’d given her permission. She’d had the chapel opened and aired out, feeling a little shame that there hadn’t been many services there in years. Her mother had been the one to invite the village minister to come and officiate. Harrison hadn’t done it. Nor had she, an oversight that bothered her now.

  She had fresh candles put on the altar and in the two chandeliers. An army of maids dusted and swept, polished the windows and ensured everything was spotless for Sean’s funeral.

  One of the maids told her that there had been vandalism in the crypt. Together they inspected it and found that things had been tossed around. It only took a few minutes to put everything back in order.

  The day of the ceremony Gordon still hadn’t said more than a few words to her. Even when she went to see Sean laid out, Gordon remained silent.

  What had she done? Had she said something wrong? Even worse, did he regret asking her to marry him? Had he changed his mind?

  There was every possibility that he found her boring. Her life hadn’t been as cosmopolitan as his in the past five years. All she knew was Adaire Hall.

  The fact that he hadn’t come to her was more than troubling. They’d always reached out to each other in times of difficulty. She’d always felt a sense of reassurance to know that Gordon was there for her, yet this behavior was more like those five silent years.

  She knew that his relationship with Sean hadn’t been an easy one. However, people handled grief in different ways. Perhaps he was mourning the fact that he and Sean hadn’t been closer. Or it could be that he was realizing his own mortality. Becoming an orphan had that effect on you. At least it had on her.

  By midmorning the minister arrived and pronounced all the preparations to his liking. Villagers and staff filed into the chapel until it was near overflowing. Jennifer stood at the door, waiting.

  When Gordon entered the chapel, he was accompanied by Moira and Sally. The two nurses had evidently taken to him, enough to behave like his family.

  She told him of the arrangements for the funeral and what would follow. Women did not accompany men to the churchyard. She would not be there for Sean’s interment, but had provided refreshments for the men once they returned to Adaire Hall. She expected a sizable number of villagers to also be in attendance.

  He only nodded
when she finished speaking. She thought he murmured something that sounded like thank you, but couldn’t be certain. Within moments, the three of them had found a seat in the front pew on the other side of the aisle from the one the family used.

  He didn’t say another word to her. Nor did he even look in her direction. He acted just like the man who’d first arrived at Adaire Hall—like a stranger who was not predisposed to like anything he saw.

  Blessedly, the service was brief. Sean wouldn’t have expected any less. He wasn’t overly devout. Nor had Betty been. There would be another service at the graveside, officiated by the same minister.

  She and the rest of the women stood aside as the men gathered in a procession, led by Gordon. As the only male member of Sean’s family, he would lead all of them in the walk to the village church.

  She wanted to say something to him, especially standing there as isolated as he appeared. She wanted to go to him and shock the staff by hugging him in full view of everyone. Yet his behavior had been so strange that perhaps she should talk to him in private first. She needed to find out what was wrong between them.

  Gordon was unapproachable and intimidating. She found it hard to believe that she had sat on his lap, kissed him, and told him how much she loved him. Or that she had ever once thought of seducing him.

  An old Gaelic proverb stated that amaisidh an dall air an reilig. A blind man will find his way to the burial ground. All during the walk to the churchyard Gordon thought of those words.

  At the front of the procession was the beadle ringing the passing bell. Behind him came the coffin, hoisted on the shoulders of eight young men who’d worked for Sean, and then came Gordon.

  From time to time—due to the distance to the churchyard, he’d been told—the pallbearers would stop, place the coffin on a spot above the ground, such as an overturned stone—and partake of a dram of whiskey.

  He sincerely hoped that the two stops they’d already made would be sufficient to get them to the churchyard. Otherwise, he couldn’t guarantee anyone’s sobriety.

  At least tradition had kept Jennifer from accompanying him. For a few hours he wouldn’t have to see her. For some time, he could be spared the sight of her walking among the mourners, greeting each of them with the same grace the countess had possessed. He needn’t hear her voice, gracious and kind.

  Lady Jennifer. She’d never seemed to bear the title better than she had today. When she told him of the arrangements she’d made on Sean’s behalf, her voice had been soft and caring. If he’d looked at her, he might’ve seen tears in her eyes. He knew that, if he’d given her the slightest indication, she would have patted his arm or squeezed his hand.

  Or even hugged him.

  That would have been unbearable.

  He’d never truly lost anyone he loved deeply. Sean’s death affected him because he was human. What was it the poet John Donne had said? “Any man’s death diminishes me.” Beyond that, he felt little.

  But Jennifer . . . That was different. For the past week he’d endured. He’d walked and talked, yet felt as if he’d done so as a ghost of himself. He imagined that what he was feeling was similar to deep grief. Not for Sean, but for Jennifer. He suspected that he would never get over this, but that he would learn to accommodate the enormous hole in his chest. He would never be the same person he had been before Sean’s announcement.

  How strange that he felt as dead as Sean.

  Somehow, he would have to begin to plan his life, unlike Sean who had no such concerns. Unless there truly was an afterlife, and Sean was being called to explain himself even now.

  As soon as he took care of his business here, he’d return to London. Jennifer wouldn’t understand his departure. She’d thought he’d abandoned her five years ago; what would she think now?

  He’d leave her a note. A letter, perhaps. A short written message of his intention to depart Adaire Hall and never see it—God willing—again.

  In London he’d be safe from hearing Jennifer’s voice, or catching sight of her. He’d never have to smell her perfume again or listen to her laughter. He’d be free of any reminders of her.

  All he had to do was get through this interminable day.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sean McDonnell was put to rest beside his wife. Although the day was chilly, the sun was shining. Birdsong punctuated the ceremony, attended by most of the male inhabitants of Adaire Hall and a good portion of the village. Harrison hadn’t bothered to attend.

  Thankfully, the ceremony was nearly over, and Gordon would soon be gone from here. Until then, he was determined to stand here, respectfully silent and outwardly stoic.

  He glanced at the tombstones around him. The church was one of the oldest in this part of Scotland. The inhabitants of this plot of ground had been here for centuries. Some of the stones were dark and weathered. Others looked to have been newly chiseled.

  Who would make arrangements for Sean’s stone? No doubt it was his responsibility. One of many that he didn’t want to have.

  The minister finished and nodded toward Gordon. He felt like an imposter, but he nevertheless scooped a bit of earth from the pile with the implement offered to him and dropped it over Sean’s coffin before leaving the graveside.

  He needed to be away. Away from the church. Away from the solemn dirge of bagpipes. Just away.

  Unfortunately, he needed to continue this charade for a little while longer. He joined with some of the men he knew from Adaire Hall on the way back. The return walk was not as somber, since they weren’t accompanying Sean’s coffin. After a few glances in his direction he even heard laughter.

  At the Hall, the mourners were greeted with a lavish spread of food, whiskey, wine, and ale. Pipes and tobacco were offered as well. Sean had been an important person at Adaire Hall, and his passing was being treated as such.

  “Gordon.”

  He reluctantly turned to face Jennifer.

  “Are you all right? You’ve barely spoken to anyone.”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “How was the churchyard?”

  “Tolerable,” he said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Jennifer. You’ve been exceedingly kind.”

  There, he’d managed to thank her in words that sounded polite. Now all he had to do was walk away, before he was tempted to look at her, to touch her, to pretend that Sean hadn’t said what he had.

  He’d recently learned that the nursery maid, the one who’d survived the north wing fire, still lived at Adaire Hall. His plan was to visit her tomorrow and receive some corroboration for Sean’s story. After that, he’d leave this cursed place.

  Jennifer did the one thing he hoped she wouldn’t. She touched his arm, her hand warm through his jacket. He gently pulled away.

  “Is it because Sean died?” she asked. “Is that why you’re acting so odd?”

  It was torture being around her. He glanced down at her. Today she was wearing black in honor of Sean, and the color emphasized her creamy complexion and the brilliant green of her eyes.

  “Have I done something wrong?”

  He focused on the people around them. There was the stable master, dressed in his best suit, standing next to two of the boys who worked in the stables. Beyond him was Ned, the new head gardener who would soon occupy Sean’s cottage. He even saw Harrison, who was holding court in the corner. Perhaps he should congratulate the man for deigning to make an appearance.

  “What is it, Gordon? You’re worrying me.”

  He finally directed his gaze back to Jennifer. She hadn’t changed. She was still as beautiful as ever.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I simply have other things on my mind,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

  “I haven’t seen very much of you recently,” she said.

  “We went five years without seeing each other. I’m sure you got into the habit. I know I did.”

  One hand went to her throat as she stepped back. Her eyes were wide and, if he was right, she was on th
e verge of tears.

  He’d accused Harrison of being an ass, yet he’d behaved worse. He’d hurt Jennifer.

  He turned and left her, striding away from the Clan Hall.

  Jennifer watched as Gordon walked away from her. The change in him since Sean died was like sunshine and rain. One day he was passionate and romantic. The next day he was remote, inaccessible, and rude, someone she hardly recognized.

  Something was terribly wrong and she didn’t think it had anything to do with Sean’s death. Had he received a letter from London containing bad news? Had Harrison said something to him?

  Someone had to act as host for this gathering. Gordon had walked off, and she didn’t think he was returning. Lauren still hadn’t left her bed following Mary’s birth. She wouldn’t bother asking Harrison; he wouldn’t do anything to help Gordon. Therefore, the duty fell to her. She went from person to person, thanking them for their attendance and their kind words about Sean. She gave orders for more whiskey to be brought up due to the volume of toasts given in Sean’s honor.

  If anyone thought it odd Gordon wasn’t there, no one said as much to her. Perhaps his actions would be seen as normal, given that he hadn’t returned home in five years to visit his father.

  The man she’d known would’ve come to her and explained what was wrong. He would have told her how he felt, regardless of what it was. They’d always been open to each other, always forgiving. He could tell her anything, and if she didn’t understand she would ask for more information. Yet he knew—or at least he should’ve known—that he could say anything to her.

  She loved him.

  The man who’d faced her only minutes earlier hadn’t wanted comfort or understanding. He hadn’t even looked at her. Gordon had gone out of his way to be hurtful, and she’d never known him to behave like that.

  Still, love wasn’t convenient. It didn’t vanish when things got difficult. Her love for Gordon hadn’t dissipated after five years of separation. It wasn’t going to disappear now. Besides, love was even more important during turbulent times.