A Heart Worth Loving (The Marriage Maker Book 24) Read online

She tasted like sugar and cinnamon. He laughed mentally. A ghost sent just for him, for he loved sugar and cinnamon. God had taken pity to bestow upon him a moment’s pleasure. The lass gripped his shoulders and his cock responded with quick intensity. Aye, it had been too long. Could a man make love to a ghost?

  Ewan teased her mouth with his tongue. She gasped—was that surprise or desire? He fisted her hair sucked her bottom lip and pressed his erection into her belly. Wretch that he was, a moment or two more and he might find his pleasure, yet that wouldn’t be fair, even for a ghost.

  Abruptly, he released her.

  She took two steps back.

  “Be gone, beautiful apparition,” he growled. “Even you deserve more than I can give.”

  She hesitated.

  His body pulsed. Christ, he was half tempted to throw her on the ground and take her, but like the ghost she was, she whirled and faded into the surrounding darkness. Ewan lurched forward to follow. He stepped on something. He grabbed the taper and examined the floor. What the devil, were those keys? Ewan scooped up the ring of keys that lay at his feet.

  Keys?

  What ghost required keys?

  ***

  Kyla reached home to find the house still dark. Thank God for small mercies. She slipped into the kitchen and hurried up the servants’ stairs to the third floor. Her mother still snored. Kyla drew a breath of relief. No one had noticed her absence. Carefully, she turned the knob on her door, then stepped inside and closed the door with a bare click of the latch.

  She released a slow breath. This smuggling business had gotten out of hand.

  Kyla unclasped her cloak, tossed it over the chair near her bed, then collapsed onto the mattress. The night had taken such strange turns. First, Mister Mallatratt had clearly decided she was fair game, and then the new owner of Blackstone Abbey had kissed her with more passion than she’d ever been kissed. Tarnation, how had he gotten into the room? Perhaps he’d seen her and followed her through the window? Nae, he would have come down the stairs, if he had.

  She abruptly realized he hadn’t recognized her. Had he actually called her a ghost? He’d been drunk, but perhaps he had also been sleepwalking? Maybe he wasn’t responsible for his actions. Whether he’d been sleepwalking or not, the man knew how to kiss a woman. His lips had felt so soft. And demanding. A tremor rippled through her stomach. What man took such liberties with a woman, even if she had trespassed on his property in the middle of the night? Only a beast…but then, was we he not a Beast of Blackstone Abbey? Never had a man been more aptly named.

  Kyla sat upright. Surely, she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss? Was she mad, as well? What woman found a stranger’s kiss exciting? That would make her…loose. But he wasn’t a stranger—at least, not completely. If she hadn’t met him on the road that afternoon, and if he hadn’t taken care to deliver her and her mother safely home, she would have been terribly frightened when he kissed her had he not already proven himself to have some couth.

  With a sigh, she stood. Her father’s letter fell to the floor. Kyla bent and stretched out her hand, but then froze. Why didn’t she hear the familiar jingle of keys in her pocket? Tarnation, she hadn’t— She stuffed her hand into her skirt pocket. No keys. No, no, no! Holding her breath, she snatched her cloak up from the chair. A quick search revealed both pockets empty.

  Fear prickled up her spine. Had she dropped them on her race back home or—

  Nae. Surely, she hadn’t dropped them in the abbey? Her heart began to race. She should return to search for them, but she’d need a lantern if she hoped to find them in the dark, and with a light, Lord Kilbreck couldn’t miss her. Trespassing once in the dead of night, he might forgive. Twice, never.

  She had no choice but to wait and sneak back at first light.

  She returned to her bed and fell back amongst the pillows.

  She wouldn’t sleep a wink.

  As expected, Kyla tossed all night. When gray fingers of light finally stretched across the cloudy sky, she quickly dressed, swung her cloak over her shoulders, and left her room. The scent of fresh apple-oat muffins wafted up the stairs as she hurried to the first floor. As usual, the cook, Margaret Maclean, was up before dawn, puttering around in the kitchen. She’d been with them since Kyla’s second birthday. Mattie, as they affectionately called her, looked up from pulling the muffins from the oven as Kyla pushed open the kitchen door.

  “Ye are up early, lass.” She set the muffin pan on top of the oven.

  “I wasted too much time at that blasted party yesterday,” Kyla replied. “I must catch up on the chores.”

  Mattie clucked under her breath. “You know your mother doesnae like you talking like a sailor.”

  Kyla dropped a kiss on the woman’s withered cheek. “Mother doesn’t like a lot of things,” she said with a droll smile. “May I have half a dozen of those muffins?”

  Mattie looked at her in surprise. “That’s a mighty big appetite you have there.”

  Kyla shrugged. “I will be out all morning checking the livestock. Holly needs to be milked, and Ella, too. She’s giving wonderful milk after giving birth. Her kids are growing like weeds.”

  “Then, take what you will, lass,” Mattie said with a nod. “I can make more.”

  Kyla snatched a basket from the table and filled it with seven fresh muffins before she kissed Mattie farewell and hurried through the back door. The muffins were the perfect excuse. If any of Blackstone’s Beasts found her snooping around, she could easily present them with the basket along with a welcome-to-the-neighborhood speech.

  Behind the thinning clouds, shades of gold filled the sky as Kyla made her way down the woodland path, scanning the ground as she walked. If she were lucky enough to find the keys along the way, she wouldn’t have to enter the abbey. Luck didn’t favor her—not good luck, at any rate. Near the edge of the woods, men’s voices caused her to freeze and listen. She couldn’t distinguish their words. Kyla crept to the edge of the trees, hid behind an ancient pine, and peered into the pastureland behind the abbey. Two men were cutting wood. Two others—one Ewan Fraser— stood several feet from the workers, talking. Did the drunken scoundrel have any memory of kissing her last night? She mentally snorted. Most likely not.

  Kyla scanned the abbey. She’d always liked the old abbey. The place had so much potential. How much land had the men purchased with the abbey? Might they farm? The pasture would make excellent grazing land. Old Mister Miller’s goats often broke free of his land and grazed in this very pasture. Oddly, she hoped the men would make the abbey a success.

  Kyla crept through the trees, through the gate, and around to the courtyard, which, thankfully, was empty. She hurried from the trees to the lichen-covered stones and peer into the refectory window. Empty, as well. The murmur of male voices filtered to her from the distance.

  She began to pry open the window. Why couldn’t her father settle down and live a straight and narrow life? They lived quite comfortably. He could easily invest their money and they would continue to live well. She wouldn’t have to sneak into neighbors’ homes.

  Kyla got the window open, set the basket of muffins on the floor inside the window, then lifted her skirt and climbed over the sill. She eased onto the floor, shook out her skirts, then picked up the basket of muffins and crossed to the door where she’d encountered Ewan Fraser last night. She set the basket on the old wood table against the wall to the right of the door and scanned the floor for the keys. She traced her steps to the door, looked behind the supplies ten feet to the left of the door—despite the near impossibility the keys could have slid so far without her hearing, but to no avail.

  Kyla turned in a circle. She had to find the keys. Where could they have fallen? Her gaze caught on the table. She hurried over, knelt, and bent so she could see under the shelf built into the table.

  “So, you are real, after all.”

  Kyla cried out and pushed to her knees, but toppled onto her backside, eye level with bare, muscled calves. She swa
llowed and lifted her gaze up the plaid to a belt wrapped tightly around a tapered waist, then arms crossed over a broad chest to Ewan Fraser’s face.

  Chapter Four

  Ewan decided to pass through the refectory and turned from the walkway. He needed to check on Logan and the ewe that was birthing for the first time. Logan was good with animals, but if the ewe died, they couldn’t afford to replace her. Ewan broke from the hallway into the refectory and slowed at sight of the shapely female arse pointed in his direction. The woman knelt on hands and knees, peering under a table, no doubt, looking for the keys she’d dropped last night.

  He stopped two feet from her, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “So you are real, after all.”

  She shot upright and fell onto her pretty arse. He waited as her gaze slowly lifted to his face.

  Her cheeks pinked. “I-I am looking for my lost dog,” she whispered.

  “Under the table?”

  “I thought I heard him bark.”

  Her breasts lifted and fell in agitation.

  Ewan forced his gaze to remain on her face. “What manner of dog is he?”

  She frowned. “A…sheep dog.”

  A sheepdog? Didn’t ladies usually prefer the smaller kind of beasts to fuss over?

  She scrambled onto her knees, then pushed to her feet. Her skirt tangled in her feet and she stumbled. Ewan shot out a hand to catch her, but she slapped it aside and recovered balance herself. Her wide eyes flew to his face.

  “I-oh, I didn’t mean— If you see my dog, please let me know.” She backed away from him. “I live just down the road.”

  He nodded. “I recall.”

  Her blush deepened. “Of course, you do.” She retreated three more paces, then her gaze shifted to a basket sitting on the table. “Oh, I nearly forgot.”

  She started toward the table, giving him a wide berth, as if she expected him to eat her. He was tempted. She passed him, reached the table, scooped up the basket, then spun and took the two steps to where he stood.

  She thrust the basket into his belly— and said, “I brought you muffins.” She released the basket and he caught it. “Good day.”

  She spun and fled toward the door, but at the last moment, she veered toward the window. Ewan watched in fascination as she hiked up her skirts, then swung first one leg, then the other over the sill, dropped onto the ground, and raced away. He stared at the window. She hadn’t asked about her keys. He pulled back the cloth on the basket to reveal a dozen apple-oat muffins. He bit into one and gave a slow nod of approval. A beautiful ghost who left a room through windows and could bake. Not such a bad neighbor.

  By the time he’d reached the path leading to the stables, he’d eaten three of the muffins. Who could blame him? They were better fare than he and the others managed. None of them were good cooks. Maybe they could pay the lass to bake for them on a regular basis. If she preferred delivering them at night, perhaps she might like a little love-play. Those round buttocks would fit quite nicely in his hands as she rode him.

  His cock twitched with interest. Ewan drew a deep breath and released it. A fine fantasy. Nothing more. He wasn’t going to act on this or any other impulse that might entice her to spread those lovely legs for him. He grimaced when his cock refused to submit to better sense and continued to harden. Christ, he didn’t have time to deal with this nonsense. A mental picture flashed of Miss Kyla Brodrick, eyes flashing as she pulled him to her. He slowed on the path. If he didn’t want to announce to his brother and fellow soldiers exactly what was on his mind, then he’d better quit fantasizing about the wench.

  The roar of a pistol brought him to a sudden stop.

  Shouts—too many to distinguish—filled his ears. He drew in a harsh breath tinged with gunpowder and swiped at the sweat that trickled into his eyes. The clash of swords rang nearby, but he couldn’t see the soldiers. Where were they? Ewan squinted into the smoke-filled surroundings. A cannonball whizzed past his ear. He stumbled back as the cannonball dug into the ground five feet away and kicked dirt onto his boots.

  “Help me,” someone cried.

  Ewan spun to face the voice, but another whispered, “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “God help me,” another pled.

  He dropped to his knees and jammed his hands over his ears, but whispers engulfed him.

  A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Ewan spun. His brother’s face swam before him. For an instant, he thought—

  “Ewan,” Liam’s sharp voice broke the spell.

  His brother stood before him, brow furrowed in worry as it so often was these days. Ewan caught sight of the basket of muffins, on its side, half the muffins on the ground beside it.

  “Rhys shot a rabbit for dinner.” Liam held up the rabbit by its ears. “I told him he was using the weapon too close to the abbey.”

  Ewan shook his head. “Nae, that will be the best dinner we’ve had in a fortnight.” He scooped up the basket, then picked up the muffins and tossed them inside.

  “Did you do some baking?” Liam asked.

  “You know I cannae cook to save my life—save for rabbit stew. Our neighbor brought the muffins.”

  Liam’s brows shot up. “You mean one of our neighbors actually likes us?”

  Ewan shook his head. “It is more likely she was looking for the keys she left behind last night.”

  “Keys she left behind? What the devil are you talking about?”

  “I encountered her in the refectory last night.”

  His brother’s eyes sharpened. “Encountered her, eh?”

  Ewan kept his expression somber. “I did not bed her, Liam.” Though, God knew, the thought had kept him awake last night. “She was there when I went to the refectory,” he said.

  His brother’s amusement vanished. “What was she doing on our property?”

  “I didn’t have the chance to ask. This morning, she said she was looking for her dog. I imagine she was looking for him last night, as well.”

  “Looking for a dog in the refectory both last night and this morning? Ye don’t find that strange?”

  Ewan grunted. “Aye, but what woman isn’t strange?”

  Liam gave a slow shake of his head.

  Ewan nodded at the rabbit. “I will take that. You take this.” He extended the basket toward his brother.

  Liam took the basket and handed Ewan the rabbit. “Are the muffins good?” Liam asked as he took one. He bit into the muffin, then looked at Ewan in surprise. “She can cook. Is she comely?”

  Ewan nodded once.

  “Then one of us should marry her.”

  ***

  By late afternoon, the skies darkened again, the rains returned, and all thoughts of tasty baked goods and pretty girls fled. A flash of lightning brought Ewan from his chair. He strode to the library window and stared out into the darkness of the garden in the center of the compound. Lightning flashed again, close. For an instant, spots raced across his eyes. He gripped the edge of the table to his right. His vision cleared, but his heart still beat too fast.

  Thunder clapped. He released a shaky breath. Christ, the thunder sounded too much like a bloody cannon. He resisted the urge to retreat to the bowels of the abbey where the thunder would be muffled by the earth. Barricading himself down below was no better than standing in the rain, as Rhys was prone to do. The smell of moist dirt seeping through the cellar walls could send him into a spiral.

  How long had he lain on the ground that last day, unable to move, while swords clashed around him, rifles roared, and cannonballs cut through the air? Even worse, the cries of his fellow soldiers. Until they went quiet.

  His throat tightened. Why hadn’t he died when the French captain had executed his men? He should have died. He, the man who had ordered his men into battle, should have died. Ewan pounded the edge of his fisted hand against the wall, then bowed his head and allowed his hand to fall back to his side. What better punishment than to live on, knowing it was his fault those men died?

&nbs
p; Another flash of lightning. He snapped his head up and caught sight of a large figure standing in the garden. He started before realizing the man was Rhys. Ewan’s chest tightened. Rhys’ demons were just as vicious as Ewan’s.

  Rhys had returned to Scotland to find his superior had accused Rhys of the crimes he’d committed: knowingly sending men into a battle they’d known they would lose. Rhys’ reputation, dragged through the mud, resulted in the loss of his inheritance, and being branded a coward and a drunk.

  Ewan sighed. Even Logan, their fourth companion, had the sense to stay inside on a night like this. Hell, he seldom left the rector’s quarters. Ewan should drag Rhys back inside. The man was likely to stand out in the rain all night in hopes of catching his death. Like Ewan, he was nigh indestructible. But Ewan wasn’t going to chance losing another man, even if that man wanted to die.

  ***

  Ewan awoke to the cold gray light of early dawn and headed outside. The storms of the night before had faded, but the rush of water greeted his ears as he emerged from the dormitory. He scowled at the water running off the hill toward the lower pasture, which was surely flooded. Then, he saw the tree. The blasted thing had fallen on the fence, scattering the stones. No sheep grazed the field. He whistled. Liam and Rhys emerged from the small stables and strode to his side.

  “They’re gone.” He nodded at the field.

  Liam groaned. “Damn wee bastards. Why did we have to get sheep? I told you we weren’t farmers.”

  “We will never round them all without a herd dog,” Rhys said.

  The mental picture rose of rounded female buttocks sticking out from beneath the refectory table.

  “I know where to find one,” he said.

  Twenty minutes later, Ewan reached the Brodrick manor house door and lifted the brass lion’s head knocker. On the third rap, the door opened to reveal a mature woman with gray-streaked hair neatly tucked beneath a lace-edged cap and an apron covering a faded blue gown.

  Her brows rose. “Can I help ye?”

  Ewan bowed. “I am Ewan Fraser, madam, here to see Mrs. Brodrick.”