Page 38 of Deception and Desire
She shoved the bolster at him, mumbling, “A dimwitanda liar.”
He grinned, tucked it under his arm, and dashed up the stairs. When he reached the office, Fenella was sitting behind the desk ready to go. Her straw bonnet was tied under her chin, and the satchel on her lap. A smile turned up those plump pink lips. Desire began a slow throb in his belly.
“Yer chariot awaits, my lady,” he said, in a terrible English accent.
“Thank you, sir.” She stood and accepted his offered arm.
“I should warn ye, it’s only a wagon. I thought I’d pick up a load of bleach and save the cost of delivery.” He held up the cushion. “Sorcha sent this to keep ye comfortable.”
Fenella laughed. “I’ve spent hours in a saddle. I think I’ll survive a short time on a wagon bench.” She accepted the gift. “But thank her for her thoughtfulness.”
“I will.”
“And I should warn you, I need to be home by four. Orders from my grandmother.”
“I dinna want the wrath of Mrs. Douglas upon me on the day I meet her.” Lachlan gave her a wink. “We willna tarry at St. Rollox.”
Outside, Malcolm waited next to the chestnut horse harnessed to the wagon. With a small but steady hand, he kept the animal in place.
“G’afternoon, Miss Franklin,” he said, red-faced and staring at the dusty ground. “Ye look bonnie today.” He peeked up at her with wide brown eyes.
“Why thank you.” She bent and tousled his red hair.
“Ye look grand every day, Miss Franklin,” he blurted, then busied himself with the bridle.
“Looks like ye have an admirer.” Lachlan chuckled, then caught her gaze before he pulled down the step. “He’s right, though. Ye’re a bright spot in my day.”
She looked surprised. “I’ve been told I’m too tall and too academic.”
“Ridiculous,” he said, wondering what other nonsense filled her lovely head. He took the cushion from her, placed it on the seat, and handed her up. He whispered for Malcolm to join them as he walked in front of the wagon. Lachlan climbed in next to Fenella, and the boy scrambled into the back. With a cluck and a swish of the reins, they moved forward, and he guided them into the traffic.
“I thought for propriety’s sake, we’d bring along asilentchaperone,” he said with a meaningful look at the lad over his shoulder. “Mrs. Douglas will appreciate it, I imagine.”
“I’m sure she will! And I’m happy to have his company.” She glanced at the boy. “Though it won’t be easy for him to stay quiet.”
“I can—” Malcolm covered his mouth with a grimy hand and leaned back into a corner. His determined face made both adults laugh.
*
Fenella held thestrap on the side of the bench. The vehicle had an ancient suspension system and bounced over every track and small rut. The heavy traffic, wagons, cursing drivers, neighing horses, and shouting vendors became a background noise as she concentrated on Lachlan’s voice. That deep timbre and lilting brogue had her stomach fluttering. Men in suits and people in homespun brushed against each other as they passed on the narrow walks that ran along the street. Lachlan yanked back on the reins, the occupants pitching forward as a scroungy cat dashed under the anxious horse’s hooves. His arm stretched out in front of her, holding her in the seat. His sleeves were rolled up, and the warm touch of his skin sent a jolt through her.
She listened to names of various businesses as they passed, which ones were associated with the mill and those that were not. This was not a posh area of Glasgow. The latest fashions would not be seen here. This was the where money was made and commerce created. The fine ladies her mother wanted to be associated with wouldneverbe seen in such a neighborhood.
Fenella was in heaven.
Lachlan pointed to an office with a sign. Her eyes lingered on his strong forearm, wondering what the light dusting of hair across it would feel like. Her mouth went dry.
“That’s owned by Gilbert MacLeod. He’s a wee radical for my taste, but Ian likes him well enough.” Then she followed his finger and readSpirit of the Union. She recognized it as the name of another newspaper, but had not read a copy. Her grandmother preferred theGlasgow Herald. And since it had brought her to MacNaughton Textile, Fenella favored it also.
The wagon crisscrossed the traffic and pulled up to a large building. She squinted up at the imposing smokestack she’d only seen from a distance. St. Rollox Works was known for their enormous chimney. MacGregor had pointed it out to her the first day he’d driven her to the mill.
“Bleach is made here?” she asked.
“Aye, a dry bleaching powder we use for the wool. They also produce soda from common salt. Faeries work here, ye ken.” His expression was serious, but his blue eyes teased her. He put his hand over hers and squeezed, sending her nerves into a frenzy. “I’ll be right back. The lad will spit in any man’s eyes who bothers ye, so ye’ll be safe enough.”
She grinned at Malcolm’s puffed up chest as he held the horse’s bridle. True to his word, he kept his mouth tightly closed. Lachlan walked to a large metal door and pulled it open. His stride was confident, masculine, afraid of nothing. Her breathing quickened just watching him move. Yet when he spoke to a worker in the dim interior, she saw Lachlan give him a friendly smile as he nodded toward the wagon. The man’s head dipped obligingly and soon he leaned against the exterior wall, thick arms crossed over his wide chest, facing them. It sent a rush of pleasure through her, knowing Lachlan wanted her protected while he made his transaction.
“Malcolm, do one of your parents work at the mill?” she asked.
