Page 115 of To Wed an Heiress
When he’d been here last, he’d provided the staff with enough gossip for years. This visit was going to be even more entertaining. He wouldn’t be surprised if news of his actions reached Edinburgh.
If necessary, he’d start knocking on every door in the house. It wasn’t time to retire, so he wouldn’t be guilty of rousting the Macrorys from their beds.
There was a faster way, however.
He shouted for her. “Mercy!”
Douglas walked out of a corridor to his left. “What are you doing here, Caitheart?”
Lennox didn’t answer him. Nor did he say anything to the gorgon grandmother who suddenly appeared at the head of the stairs. Her expression revealed not one hint of human warmth, like she was the Cailleach Bheur, the old hag of winter. Was she going to order him out of the house again?
“Caitheart, what are you about?”
Most of their communication since Robert’s death had been in tersely worded letters. Rather, Macrory had informed him of all the contracts he’d canceled in writing. Lennox hadn’t bothered responding.
He turned and addressed Douglas. “I’m here to claim my life, Macrory.”
He didn’t care if the man didn’t understand. It wasn’t something he needed to explain.
Suddenly there she was, standing with another woman, one he didn’t recognize.
Mercy was dressed as she’d been the last time he’d seen her, but somehow she looked different. As if more time had passed than a few hours. He’d never seen her so subdued, as if her emotions had been drained out of her and only the shell of the woman existed.
His heart leaped. His pulse raced. He wanted to jump over the space between them and enfold her in his arms and keep her safe. If nothing else, apologize for the hours that had passed since she left Duddingston.
Somehow, he should have known from the beginning how important she was to him. He should have kept her at Duddingston, a prisoner of love, refusing to let the world interfere.
What an idiot he’d been, thinking that pride mattered more than Mercy.
For a long stretch of time, minutes that might have been hours, they looked at each other. He didn’t know what she saw, but he was facing his future. Life made whole by Mercy.
“Get back in your room, Hortense.”
He glanced toward the gorgon who was evidently determined to interfere.
Mercy came to the railing and gripped it with both her hands. “Why are you here, Lennox?”
It had been only a few hours since he’d heard her voice, but it affected him in a surprising way. The sorrow in it tugged at his heart and at the same time angered him. He never wanted her to be sad. If it was within his power, he would prevent her from ever feeling anything but happiness.
He wanted to hear her laughter, see her smile at the beginning of the day and its end.
She looked past him to the bottom of the stairs where Irene, Ruthie, and Connor stood beside Douglas.
“Why are you here, Lennox?” she asked again.
“It does not matter, Hortense,” the grandmother said. “McNaughton, see this . . . person out.”
“Try it, McNaughton,” Lennox said, not bothering to turn and look at the man. His gaze was on Mercy who was still looking at him quizzically.
Slowly, he walked up the stairs. When he came to the head, the grandmother blocked his way.
What a fool woman.
He grinned, grabbed her around the waist, and simply moved her.
She retaliated by slapping him.
He ignored her and stretched out his hand to Mercy.
