Page 47 of To Wed an Heiress
“It’s very clever.”
They looked at each other across the room. Now it was Mercy who felt constrained by the presence of other people. Yet if they had been alone in the kitchen, she wasn’t quite sure what she would say next. Perhaps thanks for their conversation and how easy it had been to talk to him. Or thanks for not caring that she was related to the Macrorys. A final thanks for the experience of drinking whiskey and, despite the accident, feeling lighthearted for the past few hours.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said. A reminder that she needed to leave.
She nodded and said goodbye to Irene, turned, and followed Lennox down the corridor to the door she had opened a week ago, Ruthie behind her.
This time, she studied details of the Clan Hall that she hadn’t seen earlier. Here, too, there was a tapestry mounted on the wall, this scene of a battle taking place on a hill. She wanted to ask him to stop and allow her some time to study the needlework. Instead, she tucked the wish into the back of her mind, along with the desire to inspect those interesting bronze bowls and artifacts on a series of shelves.
Duddingston Castle was like its owner, revealing itself a little at a time. She couldn’t help but wonder if it would prove as fascinating as Lennox.
The carriage was directly outside the door, Connor acting as driver.
Ruthie made a little wave with her good hand and Connor smiled back at her. There was most definitely a romance blossoming there.
“Is this the door you came in, Miss Mercy?” Ruthie asked.
Mercy had already heard this superstition. “No,” she said, “but we’re in Scotland so maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters, Miss Mercy. If a person comes in one door, they should go out the same door if they don’t want to take the luck with them.”
Lennox looked amused when Ruthie narrowed her eyes and stared at her.
“We can’t go out the door we came in, Ruthie,” she said patiently. “It leads to the loch.”
Ruthie didn’t appear convinced, but she finally nodded.
Mercy turned to Lennox. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been very kind. I hope that I haven’t taken your luck with me.”
“After today I think you’ve probably brought me luck.”
He smiled at her and she got that feeling again, that strange, disconcerting sensation that her stomach was falling. It was suddenly difficult to breathe and her pulse was racing.
There was no reason she should be thinking how handsome he was or how charming he could be. Instead, she should be praying that he forgot the accident as quickly as possible, especially her near-naked appearance in the water as well as the sight of her petticoats.
She was strangely thankful that they weren’t alone. If they had been, she had the feeling that she might do something entirely improper and shocking, like standing on tiptoe and kissing him. The image of doing that very thing was so startling that she took a step back, then turned and entered the carriage as fast as she could.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The carriage ride back to Macrory House felt even shorter than before, but perhaps that was because Mercy was becoming familiar with the route.
She turned to Ruthie. “We’ll be leaving as soon as you feel up to the journey. That’s only going to be a matter of a week or two at the most.”
Ruthie turned her head, surveying the scenery as if she’d never seen pine trees.
“I know,” she said in a voice that sounded as if it had lost all its life.
They didn’t talk for the remainder of the journey, the silence uncomfortable and unusual.
The view of Macrory House was as awe-inspiring as it had been the first time. Since she had explored the majority of the rooms in the past week, she knew, firsthand, how large the house was. It probably equaled Duddingston Castle in space. Not in history, however, or appeal.
No, she shouldn’t be thinking about the castle at all. Or its owner.
She would banish him from her thoughts completely. She wouldn’t worry about the next time he went up in the air, and she knew there would be a next time because men like Lennox didn’t see obstacles. They went around them or over them. He wouldn’t be deterred by his failure. It would only add to his determination.
Nor was she going to think about how terrified she’d been or how relieved when she’d known he was safe. And she most certainly was not going to think about the way he looked at her, as if his gaze were somehow tied to her heart.
“She’s a beauty,” Irene said. “Not only that, but she has a good heart. Plus, she’s brave as well. I think there’s more Scottish in her than just the Macrory blood.”
