Page 54 of To Wed an Heiress
She wasn’t going to lie to her relatives. If she was asked where she’d been, she was going to confess that she’d disobeyed their wishes and returned to the castle, but only to have Lennox remove her stitches. Very well, perhaps not simply to have Lennox remove her stitches. Perhaps for another reason, less easy to understand. She wanted to see him again.
After descending the hill, she stopped at the bridge to watch the water cascading down to the loch before entering the shadowed alcove that led to the castle’s front door. She pulled the bell, hearing it ring deep inside the house. Was he home? Or was he out experimenting with his flying machine?
He really should take more care than he’d shown on the two flights she’d witnessed.
It struck her then, hard enough that she stared at the iron door in front of her. She was worried about Lennox.
During the four years Gregory had fought in the war she’d been concerned about him, but in a way she suspected was different from what she was supposed to feel. She’d never cried into her pillow or sent words of longing through the mail. She’d worried about him because he was a human being, but she’d never once thought her heart would break because he hadn’t come home for so long.
She knew that she wouldn’t feel the same if Lennox had gone to war.
Chapter Twenty-Five
To her surprise, Irene answered the door.
“I was told that you were kept at home for your own good,” she said.
“Your sister helped me escape. The price for her assistance,” Mercy said, handing her the pan.
“I’m thankful that you’re here, then, for more than one reason. His Lordship has a liking for tablet, too.”
“Is he here?”
Irene studied her for a moment. It was an uncomfortable examination. She wanted to tell Irene that the reason she was here was only for Lennox to remove her stitches. That was all. She had no interest in the man. However, she wasn’t willing to lie to Irene.
“Aye, he is at that. He’s in the courtyard, working on one of his machines. Go straight through the Clan Hall, turn right and out the big door, and you’ll find him.”
Mercy smiled her thanks and followed Irene’s directions. The Clan Hall was larger than she realized, the noise of her borrowed boots clomping on the stone made her sound like a horse tromping through the space. Before she opened the door, she stopped, pulled off the boots, and held them in one hand.
Most of her upbringing had been geared to understanding what was right and proper, first within the confines of her own home and then in society. She was a Rutherford and that dictated she act in certain ways. Her father was a benefactor to several charities and more than once she’d accompanied her parents to events saluting his generosity. She was expected to be gracious at all times, cordial, and conversant in a variety of subjects regardless of who engaged her in conversation.
She spoke French and enough phrases in four other languages to make people of several nationalities at ease in her company. She’d been given an extensive education in art so as to appreciate the Rutherford Wing of the New York Art Institute. She’d been schooled in etiquette since she was five and in how to manage a household since she was ten.
Yet she’d never been coached about what to say when a man was half-naked in front of her.
Lennox was bare to the waist again. This time she was going to look her fill.
She had no idea that a man’s chest could be so well defined or muscular. She had the most curious compulsion to run her fingers through the hair there. Then she wanted to drop her hands and press them against his midriff.
He was reaching above him, tightening something on a piece of wood that was fastened to another crosspiece, and hadn’t seen her yet, giving her ample time to study him.
When he turned away from her, she saw that his back was almost as impressive as his front.
Should she retreat or announce her presence? She honestly didn’t know what to do, but the decision was taken from her when he turned and noticed her.
“You’re three days late,” he said, giving her no more greeting than that.
“I couldn’t get away,” she said.
“Irene said you’d been confined to the house. How did you escape?”
She really shouldn’t smile at his comment or feel so proud of herself.
“I went to Mrs. West. The price for her help was to bring something to Irene.”
“Tablet?” His eyes lit up like a child’s.
She nodded and began walking toward him, still carrying the boots. To her disappointment, he reached over and grabbed his shirt, putting it on as she approached.
