Page 48 of Sinful Scottish Laird
She smiled sheepishly. “You must think me beyond redemption,” she murmured.
“Aye, that I do,” he said, and touched his fingers to her chin. “You’re bloody incorrigible, Daisy.”
Daisy’s smile sank deeper. “Then do you forgive me? Will we still be friends?”
“No, I donna forgive you,” he said. “For there is naugh’ to forgive,leannan.”He winked at her. “Aye, we are friends yet, in spite of my better judgment, and only because you need a friend, quite obviously. But that willna happen again.” He smiled, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“No, of course not,” she said. She felt lighter than air. “Because you don’t care for me.”
“No’ in the least,” he said, and with his hand to her back, nudged her to continue toward the lodge.
“Is it true you live at Arrandale with no one else?” she asked.
“Aye, for now,” he said. He began to tell her about Arrandale, of the house he was building there, stone by stone, timber by timber. She was enthralled, imagined him working, lifting beams by himself, hammering them into place. She didn’t look away from him at all until he said, “Who has come, then?”
“Pardon?” She turned her head and looked to the terrace. Her heart instantly seized—Daisy knew who it was. The way he stood, the color of his hair—she would know him anywhere. She stopped moving, rooted to the earth as she stared in disbelief at the ghost from her past. “Rob,” she said. “My God, it isRob.” It was a dream; it had to be a dream. She stepped forward cautiously, trying to make sense of his being here. Rob lifted his hand.
Daisy glanced up at Cailean. The light in his eyes had changed. Gone was the shine—they had shuttered, his thoughts hidden from her. “It’s Rob,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said, as if he knew, as if he’d been expecting him. “Go on, then, lass. Donna let your one and only true love wait.”
Daisy ran. She picked up her skirts and ran for Rob, bringing herself to a halt at the edge of the terrace, out of breath, out of her mind. “Is it really you?”
Robert Spivey,herRobert, smiled. “Yes, it’s really me,” he said. He was older, naturally, but still the same tall, handsome man with sandy-gold hair and beautiful brown eyes. He moved forward, his hand extended for hers, smiling. “How happy I am to see you, Lady Chatwick.”
“But I only just received your letter! You made no mention of coming here. How did you know where to find me?”
He laughed. “Lady Beckinsal finally relented and told me where you were. I followed the letter not two days after I’d posted it. I beg your pardon if I was wrong to have come, but I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Daisy was too stunned to move; he took her hand, bowed over it, kissing the back of it. “You are a very difficult woman to find,” he said softly. “How grateful I am that I have.”
Oh, so was she. For many reasons,so was she.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAILEANGAVETHEMtime to greet their guest, of course. And he needed to collect himself before he met Spivey face-to-face. He retreated to Daisy’s garden and idly looked around as the happy reunion took place, pretending to examine a wind chime that had appeared since the last time he stood there. His mind was racing, a thousand thoughts slamming through his head at once.
He could not understand what the man was doing at Auchenard. While it was possible Spivey had somehow heard of Cailean here, had somehow used Daisy as an excuse to pursue him, it really made no sense. It was too much of a coincidence. But he slipped his dirk into the waist of his plaid all the same, prepared to defend himself if necessary.
When he could stand it no more, when his curiosity threatened to choke him, he walked out of the garden and onto the terrace. Miss Hainsworth had joined them, and the four of them—Daisy, her cousin, her uncle and Spivey—were laughing, all of them happy, all of them acting as if the great problems of the world had just been resolved and there would be no more war or famine.
They didn’t notice Cailean at first, but after a moment, Daisy caught sight of him. “Arrandale!” she said, reaching out her hand to him.
Arrandale. Not Cailean. Not friends, then.
He walked toward them, his gaze on Spivey. He was as tall as Cailean, but younger and fitter. His hair was dark gold, and his clothing looked as if it had been recently sewn; the collar of his coat was too stiff to lie down properly, his knee breeches shiny. He did not wear the uniform of a captain in the king’s navy. He looked like a country gentleman.
“I, ah... Mr. Spivey, allow me to introduce my neighbor, Lord Arrandale,” Daisy said. She was smiling, but it was not as bright as he’d come to know it. She seemed slightly ill at ease.
“Laird,” he said. “I am laird of Arrandale.”
“How do you do,” Spivey said and walked forward, his hand extended to greet Cailean. But as he neared Cailean, something flickered in his expression. He shook Cailean’s hand enthusiastically, as if meeting the vicar who would perform his marriage to Daisy here and now...but his gaze was shrewd.
“Mr. Spivey has come all the way from Cornwall,” Daisy said.
“CaptainSpivey,” he said, and smiled indulgently at Daisy.
“Oh yes, I beg your pardon.CaptainSpivey.” She laughed. “I’m not yet accustomed to it.”
