Page 41 of Deception and Desire
“Fergus MacGregor,” he said simply with a nod. “I do what’s needed for Mrs. Douglas.” And with that, he gave them his back and led the animals away.
“Friendly sort,” noted Colin. “Or is it he doesna like ye sniffing around his mistress’s granddaughter?”
Lachlan shrugged. “Perhaps he’s just slow to warm up to strangers.”
Mrs. Douglas answered the door herself. “Welcome, gentlemen.”
Lachlan realized he hadn’t paid much attention to the older woman when he’d first met her. His eyes had been on Fenella. Slightly plump, her thick gray hair pulled back in a chignon with ringlets falling over her ears, she just reached his shoulder. When she smiled, a dimple pierced each cheek, evidence of her past beauty. She swished by them in a burnt umber silk dress that matched her eyes. Pulling the creamy lace shawl over her shoulders, she led them into the parlor.
After the introductions, Colin stood awkwardly in the center of the room, studying the russet carpet. He stuck a finger in his neckcloth and pulled. Lachlan watched the big oaf with amusement, then perused the room. In one corner stood a pianoforte. A penny whistle leaned against a basket of sheet music. But what caught his eye were the bagpipes, old but well cared for.
“Do ye play, ma’am?” he asked, tilting his head toward the musical instruments.
She smiled. “My fingers canna move over the keys like they used to, but I still enjoy playing. The pipes belonged to my father. He taught my husband, so when Da died we kept them.”
Lachlan walked over and ran a hand over the wooden reed pipes and the goatskin bags.
“Colin can blow a tune or two. I prefer the fiddle myself.”
“After dinner we’ll enjoy some music, and if Mr. MacNaughton would be kind enough to see if the old bags still work…” She sighed. “It’s been a long time since this room has been filled with that sweet, haunting sound. It makes me think of my childhood home, when I was a young lass.”
“A ballad or two, then, after our meal? Ye’re kind enough to feed us. We’d be happy to repay ye the best we can,” Lachlan said, ignoring his cousin’s scowl.
“Perhaps. It’s been a spell since I’ve entertained. Now, would ye like some tea?” Mrs. Douglas considered her guests. “Or something a wee stronger?”
Colin’s face cracked with a relieved half smile. “Whisky would be my preference, ma’am.”
Lachlan gave a nod in agreement. To his surprise, she poured a finger of the amber liquid into three glasses. “This is from a local distillery.” She raised a glass, gave them a nod, and finished it in one swallow.
Both men followed her lead and tossed back the whisky. Mrs. Douglas held up the decanter, one eyebrow arched.
“This is a fine selection, ma’am.” Colin stepped forward with his glass, warming up to their hostess.
“Mr. Douglass favored it.” The dimples in her cheeks deepened.
“Yer husband had fine taste.” He sat down on a leather chair near the fire, an easy smile on his now-relaxed face. “We met the personable MacGregor.”
“Och, he just worries over me and mine. Once he kens ye, he’s amiable enough.” She sipped at her drink. “So, the third MacNaughton has returned to the Highlands? Whereabouts is yer home? It’s been too many years since I’ve visited.”
“Dunderave is a wee distance from the castle.”
“My mother took me there as a girl.” Her face lit up. “Do ye ken any of the MacDunns?”
“Aye,” both men answered.
Lachlan leaned against the mantel and half-listened to the lively conversation that ensued. Highlanders always found some place or clan in common. His cousin was comfortable again, trading stories with one who was familiar with their home.
Light footsteps sounded in the hall, and Fenella appeared in the doorway. Gone were the somber colors of her work attire. A sky-blue muslin gown draped her tall, willowy form. A wide satin ribbon hugged her waist just beneath her bustline, and a trim of white lace drew his eyes to her soft, creamy mounds. Opals sparkled blue and green at her ears and throat; her pulse evident in the hollow of her neck as his gaze lingered. But it was the dusty charcoal eyes that beckoned him forward.
“Ye’re a vision, Fenella,” he said simply.
“Thank you.” Her head tipped as she accepted the compliment. Flaxen curls tumbled from the loose knot on top of her head and brushed the back of her long slender neck.
His fingers itched to touch the silky coils.Sweet Mary, he’d thought she was beautiful before. The throbbing began, a slow steady reaction his mind could not control. It would be a long, excruciatingly sweet evening.
“May I introduce my companion, Rose LaCross? She came with me from England and assists me with everything,” Fenella announced as another young woman followed her into the parlor. She was as dark as her mistress was light. A dusky deep orange muslin enhanced her ebony hair and raven eyes. With her golden skin and coloring, Lachlan thought she had an exotic quality.
As Fenella made the introductions, he held back a chuckle. His cousin had stood, almost dumped his whisky, righted it, and gawked at the newcomer with cow eyes.
