Stella Cameron by Fascination

Author:Fascination
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-10-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Allegro’s sure hoofs found the way as certainly in the near darkness as they did by day. Arran lifted his face to the soft evening sky and willed the peace of the land to calm him.

He’d passed beyond the castle walls and through the tiny village of Kirkcaldy. With the reins loosely held in one hand, he all but slumped in the saddle and allowed his mount’s rhythm to sway him.

Peace.

Simplicity.

He had to find a way to purge himself of the anger and disgust he felt—not only for the girl, but for himself. More for himself. She’d been offered a fabulous match and accepted. What right did he have to expect her to hold fine feelings for a man she’d never met? Unless she continued to refuse to marry him, Grace could bring him pleasure and provide the heir he must have. What more did he want? Nothing. He must curb his rage at her duplicity. Rage made him vulnerable, and he would never be vulnerable again. How complicated a life could be made by wealth—the more wealth, the more complicated.

In his pockets were small offerings wrapped in pretty paper. The Mercers would be amazed to see him. He’d never come to them other than in daylight. And he’d never approached them for anything but practical reasons—as a neighbor.

On the hill above the Mercers’ cottage, Arran pulled Allegro up and sat, looking down upon the simple dwellings below. The moon, a fragile wafer edged with silver, iced thatched roofs with a pale sheen. Dusky threads of smoke streaked from chimneys.

He should not use these people to fill his own emptiness.

If the Mercers had visitors, he would not intrude.

He touched his heels to Allegro’s sides and moved slowly downhill until he could circle the Mercers’ place. No sound of laughter or music came from inside.

Arran swung silently to the ground and left the horse some yards distant.

A yipping set up and two dogs tore past. Then all was silent again.

He would give the paltry gifts and leave. Nothing more.

At the cottage door he paused to ruffle his loosened hair. The rough garb of Niall felt as comfortable as the fine clothes the Marquess of Stonehaven wore.

Arran knocked and immediately called out, “Robert! It’s Niall and there’s nothin’ amiss.”

Instantly the stout wooden door was thrown open and Robert Mercer looked anxiously up into Arran’s face. “What’s wrong, man? Are ye ailin’?”

“No, no.” Arran clapped the other man on the shoulder. “I’ve been busy and I’d promised a certain small treat, if ye remember.”

A slow smile spread over Robert’s spare features. He pushed back his own fair hair and beckoned Arran inside the cottage.

Arran swept off his shapeless hat. “Are ye sure I’m not intrudin’?”

“Och, no. My Gael’ll be so glad t’see ye. She’s not been out in—” he grimaced before continuing “—in far too long. It’s not goin’ too well with her, Niall,” he finished in low tones.

Awkwardly Arran entered. He’d had no experience with the intimate domestic details his tenant husbands and wives shared with natural ease.

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