Page 60 of Deception and Desire
“Why thank you, Malcolm. I’ve missed the escort home.”
Lachlan gave her a questioning look as he handed her onto the seat, Sorcha’s cushion once again in place. “MacGregor insisted on fetching me while you were gone. He said he had nothing better to do.”
With a laugh, he walked around to the other side and climbed up next to her. As Malcolm scrambled into the wagon bed, Lachlan leaned over and whispered, “Ye smell like honeysuckle, lass. Did ye have any dreams while I was gone?” He brushed his lips against her cheek, then cracked the reins, and the wagon lurched forward.
Fenella clutched the wagon seat with both hands and turned her head, a coquettish expression on her face. She hoped. She’d been practicing in the mirror after listening carefully to Rose’s instructions. When he chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows, she knew she’d done well. Oh, how Evie would love to see her elder sister flirting with a man. Flirtingsuccessfullywith ahandsomeman, who didn’t give a fig about her dowry. A stray lock had fallen over Lachlan’s forehead, and she impulsively reached out and pushed it aside. The warmth of his skin tingled against her fingertip, and she withdrew her hand. He snatched it and placed a kiss on her palm. The sweetly sensual act washed over her; wings fluttered in her stomach.
“Ian will leave for Manchester in two days. He wants to purchase some new power looms that should improve production.” He paused. “Colin insists he should go with him. Says he’s the one who’ll be repairing the machines.”
“That’s true.”
“I argued I would get a better price, but he’s adamant. I think he’s worried about Ian going to hear some radical speaker who’s lecturing there.” Lachlan shrugged. “I’m no’ a martyr and dinna mind staying behind. There’s a bonnie lass at the mill I have my eye on. Manchester will give me close to an extra month with no eyes spying on us.”
“The poor girl must not understand what a rake you are,” added Fenella with a cluck of her tongue.
“I’m only a rake if she wants me to be.” He winked.
Another cart passed them, the dark-bearded driver tipping his hat at them. She studied the crowded walkways, wondering where all the people were going. If any of them could possibly be as happy as Fenella Franklin. Except for that insistent voice in her ear.Tell him about Mother!
“Lachlan…”
“Colin says my brother is involved with a group of activists. He doesna trust some of them, fears they’re causing unrest for their own purposes.”
“You don’t think they would take up arms?”
“Ian insists the faction is peaceful. I agree with the weavers’ complaints, but nothing good will come from challenging the government when the Torries are in power. They’d be cut down like French soldiers. No questions asked, no quarter given.”
“Is it about wages?”
“Aye, with the factory workers taking the brunt of it. The merchants complain of taxation, but when the government gives concessions, they dinna want to give up profit and increase wages. Both groups grumble about the lack of representation in Parliament. A Scottish nobleman is not allowed a seat in the Lords.” He frowned. “We are under the King’s rule, yet have no voice to change our situation. If ye want us to be part of the family, ye must invite us to the table.”
“Ian wouldn’t follow the dissenters if their path turned violent, would he?”
“I dinna believe so. We have too much at stake here. Besides, he’s the conscience of our clan and has always spoken for the underprivileged or wrong. There’s no gentler soul in our family than Ian.” He patted her hand. “He’s no’ afraid to raise his voice, but he’d walk away before raising arms against the King.”
Fenella pushed back the unease churning in her gut. Countries were always settling disputes and dealing with discontent among the masses.
When the wagon stopped in front of the Fenella’s home, her grandmother opened the door. “Weel, if it’s no’ the prodigal son returned home. Welcome back, ye handsome oaf.”
Lachlan climbed down and assisted Fenella. His hands lingered on her waist, his nose buried in her hair. “Ye never told me about yer dreams,” he whispered before turning to greet the older woman.
“Mrs. Douglas, I do believe ye’ve grown younger in my absence. Is that a new dress?” He kissed her cheek. “The rose color is lovely and suits ye.”
“I assume that means ye’d like to resume Sunday dinners, eh?” But the crinkle of her eyes and quirk of her lips relayed her pleasure at the compliment.
“I’d be honored, ma’am,” he agreed with a bow.
“Malcolm,” she called to the boy, “come to the kitchen for a scone and some milk. I believe Fenella and Lachlan need to examine the kale in the garden. There were spots on the leaves when I last checked.” She raised an eyebrow at her granddaughter. Fenella understood the look. This was her chance to tell Lachlan of her misrepresentation, remembering her father’s words.
Malcolm scrambled from the back of the wagon, clutching his cap in his hand and trying to comb back his fiery curls with thin fingers. Fenella peeked at Lachlan through her lashes and caught his heated gaze. He laced his fingers through hers, and they walked around the house to the back gate.
The honeysuckle was between blooms, and Lachlan stopped at the arch where the thick vines intertwined with the lattice. He sat on the wooden bench beneath the shade of the bright green leaves and pulled her down beside him.
“How is it there are no flowers, yet I still smell the sweet nectar?” he asked, his nose nuzzling the delicate skin beneath her ear.
“Grandmama used some of the petals and created an oil. I wear it to remind me…” She caught her breath when his teeth nibbled at her earlobe, followed by his lips feathering kisses down her neck.
“Remind you of?”
