A Heart Worth Loving (The Marriage Maker Book 24) Page 4

  The suspicion deepened. “Is she expecting you?”

  He shook his head. “Nae.”

  She studied him for a moment, then said, “Wait here in the hallway. I will see if she is accepting visitors.”

  Ewan angled his head in acknowledgement as he entered. The woman hurried down the short hall and disappeared around a corner. A gold framed painting of a wooded scene hung on the wall to his left. A low burning lamp sat on a mahogany table below the painting and a thick carpet ran the length of the hallway. The Brodricks clearly lived a comfortable life.

  Two minutes later, the housekeeper returned. “Mrs. Brodrick will see ye. Follow me.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and started down the hall again.

  Ewan took three quick steps to catch up, then followed her around the corner to an open door on the right. She stepped inside, then slid aside as he entered.

  “Lord Kilbreck.” Mrs. Brodrick sat on a divan located on the left wall.

  A pretty girl of about nineteen years of age sat on the divan beside her. Mrs. Brodrick extended her hand toward him.

  He crossed to her, grasped her hand and bowed over her fingers. “Ma’am. A pleasure to see you again.”

  She nodded to the young woman. “May I introduce my daughter, Margaret.”

  The girl angled her head in acknowledgement.

  “A pleasure, Miss Brodrick.” He bowed.

  “Please, have a seat,” Mrs. Brodrick said. “Mattie, bring tea, please. It is wonderful that you have paid us a visit. We were just discussing Margaret’s wedding plans. She is to marry Lord Richard Ainsley.”

  Ewan nodded. “Felicitations, Miss Brodrick.”

  She blushed prettily, reminding him of a delicate doll, but nothing so real, so intriguing as her sister, Kyla.

  “Oh, you must come to the wedding,” Mrs. Brodrick said. “Say you will.”

  “Ma’am—”

  “You may bring your brother and the other gentlemen at Blackstone Abbey,” she went on. She looked at her daughter. “Lady Margaret Ainsley.” Mrs. Brodrick looked at him, genuine joy in her eyes. “She will make a lovely viscountess, do you not agree?”

  The woman was clearly a social climber, but she seemed truly happy for her daughter.

  “Aye.” Ewan tilted his head in the girl’s direction. “Very lovely.”

  She blushed again and dropped her gaze.

  Mattie returned, and set the tray of tea on the table in front of the divan.

  “Do sit down, Lord Kilbreck,” Mrs. Brodrick said. “I will pour the tea.”

  “Thank you,” Ewan said, “but you will have to forgive me. I have no time for tea. I came to beg the use of your sheep dog.”

  “Sheep dog?” She frowned and looked at her daughter.

  “We haven’t a sheep dog, nor a dog of any kind, I am afraid,” Margaret explained.

  He should have been surprised but, oddly, wasn’t. So, what had his lovely ghost been doing at Blackstone Abbey in the middle of the night?

  He endured fifteen more minutes of Mrs. Brodrick trying to entice him to sit and have tea while she and Margaret regaled him with wedding plans before he succeeded in breaking away.

  Ewan strode down the path back to Blackstone Abbey. Why had Kyla Brodrick really been at Blackstone Abbey in the middle of the night? Those keys must be important for her to brave returning after he’d so soundly kissed her. He winced. He’d done a bit more than just kissed her. He’d been drunk. Perhaps she’d hoped he wouldn’t remember the encounter.

  He smiled. She might hope he didn’t remember, but she certainly had. Her startled expression when he’d caught her in the refectory that morning was more than just guilt at having been caught trespassing. The minx had obviously remembered that kiss. He grimaced. God, he was mooning over her like a lovesick lad of sixteen. He didn’t have time for such foolishness.

  A murmur of voices up ahead caused him to slow his walk, until, much to his surprise, the object of his thoughts came into view. Kyla. She stood in the middle of the road, speaking to a man with mutton-chop whiskers.

  “I cannot,” she said emphatically.

  “Why?” the man demanded with a scowl.

  Kyla blew out a frustrated breath. “You must wait until my father returns.”

  Her father still lived? Interesting. He’d had the impression that wasn’t so.

  “It is too late to change the plan now.” The man threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Bah! What do women know of such matters?” He paused, then dropped his voice and added in a suggestive tone, “They are much better for other…things.”

  “Mister Mallatratt. How dare you,” she snapped.

  “Do no’ be angry, Kyla.” The man reached for her.

  Kyla slapped his hand away. “I did not give you leave to call me by my Christian name, sir.”

  “Sir?” He snorted. “We know each other better than that. Let me show you a more pleasant way to spend an afternoon.” He stepped closer.

  In three quick paces, Ewan emerged from the trees. “Ho, there! What’s the trouble here?”

  As the man swung around, a ray of sun caught on the hilt of a silver-handled pistol, stuffed into his waistband. Ewan slowed. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow.

  “Who are you?” Mallatratt demanded.

  Ewan yanked his gaze from the pistol to the man’s face.

  Mallatratt’s eyes narrowed. “Well? Are ye daft?”

  “Lord Kilbreck,” Kyla stepped forward. “What a most pleasant surprise.”

  “Kilbreck?” the man repeated, then his eyes lit with recognition. “Not the Kilbreck what bought Blackstone Abbey?”

  “Indeed, he is,” Kyla supplied. “Lord Kilbreck, may I introduce Mister Mallatratt. He works for my father.”

  Mister Mallatratt tossed her a thin-lipped look but turned back to Ewan. “You needn’t fret over Miss Brodrick, now. We are old friends.”

  “You’re an old friend of my father’s, to be precise,” she interjected.

  “Then perhaps it is time you left,” Ewan said.

  “Here now,” Mister Mallatratt said. “I told you, Kyla and I are friends.”

  “Friends with her father,” Ewan said.

  “That’s closer friends than you and her,” he shot back. “I dinnae think her father would want me to leave her here alone with a Beast of Blackstone Abbey.”

  “Mi-ster Mallatratt,” Kyla reprimanded. “I will not have you insult our new neighbors—and neither would my father.”

  The man hesitated. He looked from her to Ewan, then spun and left.

  Chapter Five

  Relief washed over Kyla as Mister Mallatratt disappeared down the path. Her father wouldn’t be pleased at the man's forward behavior. She couldn’t wait to see the last of him. She turned back to Ewan and was startled to see that he’d gone pale. He was so brawny and muscular, she couldn’t imagine he had anything to fear from the likes of Mister Mallatratt. Or was his mood due to the suffering so clear in his expressive eyes? Was that why he had been drinking last night?

  “Thank you.” She bobbed a curtsey. “Mister Mallatratt has been acting odd.”

  He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Let me know if I can be of further service.”

  The memory of his kiss pulled her eyes down to his curved lips above a day’s growth of beard. His was a striking man. What would it be like to capture the attention of such a man—when he wasn’t drunk?

  “I spoke to your mother,” he said. His dark eyes sharpened. “I was looking to borrow your sheep dog.”

  “Sheep dog?” Her face flooded with heat. “Sheep dog? Why…well.” She knew better than to lie. Some folk could lie the day away and never pay for their untruths. She was never that lucky. “I…”

  His mouth twitched in obvious amusement.

  Tarnation. Was he playing with her?

  He waited.

  What could she say? “Why are you in need of a sheep dog?”

  “The storm saw fit to drop a tree on our
fence,” he answered.

  She nodded. “That is most unfortunate.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, I wish you luck.” She began inching sideways. The sooner she escaped his presence, the better.

  “Allow me to escort you home.” The gleam of amusement in his eyes had taken on a wicked quality.

  Kyla swallowed, torn between her chance to escape and the desire to stay a few moments more in his company. Who could blame her? Never before had a man looked at her so.

  “My home isn’t far,” she began.

  “Kyla?”

  Kyla leaned past Lord Kilbreck. Margaret hurried down the path, her face registering a combination of concern and shock.

  “Are you well, Kyla?” Margaret asked when she stopped beside her.

  As Ewan nodded a greeting, Kyla queried in turn, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I just spoke with Mister Mallatratt. He mentioned you might be in…” Margaret darted a quick glance at Lord Kilbreck, then cleared her throat. “In…a wee bit of distress.”

  Kyla snorted. “He should know. The distress was caused by Mister Mallatratt, himself.”

  Margaret’s pretty face relaxed. “I never cared for the man. I wish you wouldn’t even speak with him, Kyla.”

  If only she had that choice.

  “Why father keeps his acquaintance is a mystery,” Margaret continued.

  And I pray you will always wonder, dear little sister. Kyla heaved a sigh, then sent her sister a warm, reassuring smile. “There’s no harm done. Lord Kilbreck was kind enough to see Mister Mallatratt on his way.”

  An unexpected stab of jealousy pierced Kyla as Margaret turned her perfect face the viscount’s way. Kyla loved her little sister more than life, but was it wrong that she wanted just one man—this man—to prove impervious to Margaret’s charms?

  “Thank you, Lord Kilbreck.” Margaret’s smile transformed her from pretty to beautiful. “We owe you a debt. When father returns, he will thank you properly, I’m sure.”

  Kyla’s heart fell. Now Lord Kilbreck’s eyes would link with Margaret’s. He would bow. He would grin. He would lower his gaze and peer at Margaret with that special look. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from beaming, announcing to the world that he’d fallen under Margaret’s spell and found her a rare thing of great beauty.

  “It was no trouble, at all, Miss Brodrick,” Ewan replied curtly.

  Kyla blinked. After sparing her sister the most cursory of glances, he turned his attention fully back to her. Trepidation coiled in her stomach. Was he angry about the sheepdog lie?

  “Perhaps you should join us for tea. Oh, not tea.” Margaret laughed. “You do not care for tea. Lunch, perhaps? Mother would wish to thank you.”

  Kyla watched as Ewan turned back to Margaret. Now he would see what he’d missed the first time.

  “That isn’t necessary, Miss Brodrick.” he nodded again, just as curtly as the first time.

  “But we must thank you, kind sir.” Margaret pouted prettily. “We are hosting a dinner party next week. Do say you will come.”

  A party? She knew nothing of a party.

  “Margaret, we should wait until father returns before hosting any parties,” Kyla said.

  “Father will be back by then,” her sister assured.

  With a soft laugh, Margaret tilted her face up to Ewan and fluttered her lashes. Kyla couldn’t blame her little sister. She’d been raised from childhood to flirt and dangle men.

  “You are invited, Lord Kilbreck,” Margaret insisted. “You simply must attend.”

  Ewan did look at Margaret then, and Kyla’s heart sank. He’d taken a wee bit longer to fall for her charms, but fall, he would. She scowled, torn between jealousy and irritation at her mother’s irresponsible spending of the family funds, and awaited his answer.

  Ewan nodded at Margaret, somewhat brusquely this time, but still within the realm of a polite response. “I fear I cannot attend, Miss Brodrick.”

  Margaret blinked.

  Ewan returned his gaze to Kyla. The distinctive gleam returned in his dark eyes as a faint dimple of amusement creased his cheek. “I must be going, Miss Brodrick. It is always a pleasure to see you. I feel certain we shall meet again. Soon.”

  Kyla’s heart began to thud. He hadn’t paid an ounce of attention to Margaret. Why?

  She watched him stride away.

  “Strange,” Margaret mused. “He didn’t even ask the day the dinner party would take place. Did I offend him?”

  “No, silly,” Kyla replied, her gaze locked on the brush of his kilt’s hem against the muscled calves visible above his boots.

  “Oh, I see,” her little sister’s voice took on a note of humor. “I’ll just be going on mother’s errand, unless you wish to accompany me?”

  As Ewan disappeared around the bend in the path, Kyla’s disappointment tugged. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted…what, another kiss? Heaven have mercy.

  “Are you coming?” Margaret pressed.

  A sheep dog. He’d wanted a sheep dog to gather his sheep. With a quick, “I will be home later” tossed in her sister’s general direction, Kyla picked up her skirts and ran down the path after Ewan.

  She turned the bend and caught sight of him up ahead. Kyla ran faster. When she was within twenty feet of him, he looked over his shoulder. His brow creased in question and, thankfully, he stopped.

  “You bought Widow Feldman’s flock, didn’t you?” she gasped out when she halted beside him.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and her mind muddled when he murmured, “Aye.”

  “They-they are probably at the pond. They always run there.”

  His lids lowered. Something about the subtle shift of his expression made her heart sing. She eyed the breadth of his shoulders, so wide his shirt stretched in a most pleasing manner. His hair curled at the top of his collar and made her want to run her hands over his shoulders.

  “Where is this pond?” His deep baritone voice sounded smooth as velvet.

  The smile that played over his lips pulled her own into an answering curve. “I can show you.”

  ***

  The way her breasts heaved under her dress made him want to rip the damn thing off and throw her onto a bed. His cock twitched in agreement. Something about the lass enchanted him, made him feel as he had before the war. Perhaps it was her spirit, her warmth, that soothed the pit of despair that kept him company of late.

  She smiled, and he couldn’t stop his own lips from widening in response. God, he was grinning like a fool. A breeze blew a strand of her hair to her lips. How he ached to taste that sweet mouth again and trace his fingers over the soft lines of her flesh.

  “This way.” She brushed back the hair from her mouth and moistening her lips with her tongue.

  He nearly groaned aloud. That tongue. Heaven save his soul, but how was a man not to think of what that tongue could do?

  She left the path and took off toward the stone fence ringing the abbey’s lower pasture. He followed, allowing his eyes to slide over her womanly curves. She was such a bonny lass, so vibrant, so filled with life. If only she could remain a ghost. In the heat of the night, he could slake his need. He could drive his cock into her sweet depths and stretch and fill her until she writhed with pleasure.

  The hardening of his cock reminded him firmly to nip such thoughts in the bud. When they reached the fence, she didn’t hesitate to climb over—just as she had the window sill yesterday morning—blissfully unaware she’d just offered him a fine view of her slim ankles, and his body revolted against reason. Ewan gave in and vaulted over, enjoying the pleasant hum in his blood.

  “How do you know so much about Widow Feldman’s sheep?” he asked.

  Kyla laughed. “I often helped her fetch them home.”

  He couldn’t resist the chance to tease. “With the help of your sheep dog?”

  She snapped her head up and met his gaze. The blush that colored her cheeks made him want to kiss her.


  They kept walking.

  “Why were you there in the refectory last night?” he asked. “Are those keys important?”

  She nodded. “Aye. I was looking for them.”

  He stopped under a large oak. “I thought you were a ghost.”

  The minx looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Are you in the habit of kissing ghosts?”

  He yearned to do more than kiss her lips. He let his eyes drop over her shapely figure. The color in her cheeks deepened. God, he did want to kiss her again. She didn’t move away. He bent his head closer to hers. He knew what desire in a woman looked like. Her eyes sparked with, and her breasts rose and fell. He was sorely tempted to cup those soft mounds of flesh.

  “The sheep.” She took a step back. “The pond is just over this hillock.”

  She was off again. He suppressed a groan and followed.

  They crested the rise. Sheep grazed around a small pond that glistened in the afternoon sun. A quick count revealed the entire flock, plus one more. One of the ewes had apparently birthed a lamb.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “We can drive them back,” she offered.

  He couldn’t resist. “Without the aid of a sheep dog?”

  He loved watching her blush.

  “Have you never heard of a shepherd’s crook?” she asked.

  Minutes later, Ewan watched her struggle to break a branch from the alder tree. He should help, but the sight of her luscious form twisting this way and that compelled him to feign ignorance on just how a proper shepherd’s crook might be obtained. All too soon, the branch cracked. She broke off the smaller limbs and leaves, until she held a passable staff.

  “There, that’s done.” She gave a nod of satisfaction. “Now, select yours. The longer, the better.”

  He suppressed a grin. “And wider, too?”

  She nodded, clearly oblivious to his suggestion.

  He pointed to a green sapling. “Harder is better, I would imagine?”

  “Aye,” she replied, and pointed to a long branch. “That is a sturdy one.”

  Ewan sighed, then broke the branch from the tree.

  At last, staffs in hand, they approached the sheep.