With a sinking feeling, he surveyed the tangled, stunted gardens, the front door hanging askew from one rusted hinge, the windows either broken out or matted with dirt and dead ivy.
At that moment, something wide-eyed and furry careened out of the front doorway.
He glanced at Jane. Her lips were parted, her breaths little puffs in the cold air. Dark circles were stark against her pale face. Their pace had been furious, but Hugh had reasoned that they could rest and recuperate at Beinn a'Chaorainn. Yet even under the strain of their travels, she'd been trying to cheerhim up, keeping her mood buoyant for him, sweetly scolding him for brooding.
Now, Jane's expression was guarded as Hugh dismounted and helped her from her horse. Without a word, he strode inside with his shoulders back, as if taking her here hadn't been a colossal error. The next viable alternative was to go to the clan, and he'd wanted to avoid that at all costs.
Hugh crossed the threshold, took one good look around.And so the clan it will be.
Feathers and nests from grouse and pigeons littered the hall. It appeared that red squirrels, maybe badgers or even foxes denned here, and Hugh couldhear teeming in the chimney. As if standing in sentinel, a pine marten was poised upright in the entry hallway, front legs bowed aggressively.
'Look, Hugh!' Jane cried, showing genuine energy for the first time today. 'It's a ferret. Or part cat? I can't tell.' She eased past Hugh, cooing, 'It's the most adorable wittle thing.'
Hugh reached for her arm. 'No, Jane, doona—'
It hissed at her and scuttled away—back inside. Jane looked crushed, mumbling something about never liking 'ferret cats' anyway.
She followed him further inside, batting at the cobwebs that drifted in his wake, spitting frantically against one that brushed her lips. Freed of it, she gazed around the great room, her eyes wide with dawning horror.
His face flushing, his tone defensive, he said, 'This is the last place anyone will look for us.' He reckoned the manor had been broken into, and once the front door was lost, nature had moved in. Still, Beinn a'Chaorainn had never, by any stretch of the imagination, been habitable in recent memory.
There wasn't a stick of furniture to be seen, apart from three damp, pitted mattresses slumped against a wall. When Hugh's further exploration found the kitchen empty of pots and dishes, Jane said, 'It appears that I'll be forgoing a bath.' Her tone was strained.
He opened yet another cabinet—nothing. 'I saw a loch out back.' He might even have spotted steam from a hot spring, adjacent to the rocky banks—hot water ready for the taking. 'If I could just find one sodding bucket, a pot to bring water up—'
He broke off when some unseen creature upstairs thundered into a run, crashed into a wall, then darted back the same way. Jane turned away, covering her face with her hands.
Crossing to her, he muttered, 'Ach, Jane, I dinna know.' He tentatively laid his hand on her shoulder, frowning as he pulled free a few feathers that had settled in her hair.
He'd done it—he'd finally pushed her past her limit. As they'd neared the property, he'd again warned her it would be far from luxurious. She'd replied that as long as there was a bath, she would be fine. In fact, she'd dreamed aloud about soaking for hours—and that was before they'd been covered with dust, feathers, and spiderwebs.
She was exhausted, she'd been attacked, and not only was there no bath, there was no bed and no fire, and the areas where there were precious stretches of intact windows seemed to be precisely where birds had nested.
Hugh couldn't believe he'd brought his lass to a place like this. How could she not cry?
She bent over, and when her shoulders began to shake, Hugh vowed silently that he was going to beat Courtland to within an inch of his life.
'Jane, I never would have brought you here if I'd known. And we will no' stay.' He turned her toward him and gently drew her hands from her face.
Jane was…laughing.
'I'm sorry,' she said, biting back a snicker, holding up her palm. 'Our situation isnot funny.' With an expression of concentration, she tapped her temple and said, 'Dire, Jane, that's what it is. Not amusing.'
She was likely delirious—Hugh's expression indicated that he certainly suspected so. He was peering at her as if she'd just been released from Bedlam and would be returning forthwith.But then the accommodations would be sublime compared to this. Many fewer grouse.
And she lost it again.
Of course, this was where Courtland MacCarrick lived. She didn't know which was worse: Court owning a place like this—or the fact that her determination to stay here was still unfaltering.
'Jane?' he said slowly. Poor Hugh. He'd been so discomfited when they'd entered—his broad shoulders had been jammed back—and now his worry was evident. 'Lass, what're you laughing about?'
When another feather wafted down to stick jauntily out of Hugh's hair, she snickered some more. Wiping her eyes, she said, 'It's just that this is so much better than what I'd expected Court's home to be like.'
'And how's that?'
'It'sabove ground.'
Hugh's eyes briefly widened, then he half-frowned, half-grinned.
Jane inhaled, forcing herself to continue in a dry tone, 'And I had no idea Courtland was such an animal lover. Look at all these beloved pets.'
'Aye,' Hugh agreed, his tone as dry as hers, 'since he was a lad—never could keep enough of the wee beasties. Names them, every one.'
She gave a burst of laughter, surprised and delighted with Hugh, but reined it in to observe, 'And Court's quite clever with his menagerie. I never would have conceived of utilizing the chimney and the mattresses as pens for them.'
Hugh nodded solemnly. 'Makes it easier to feed them their steady diet of dirt and cotton. Look how they thrive.'
Wrestling with laughter, Jane observed, 'And the décor is quite fetching.' She tapped her chin. 'Early hovel, if I'm not mistaken. Only the most studious and dedicated neglect could achieve this.'
'Aye, this level of hovel is rarely seen. He's been hard at it foryears .'
She did laugh then, having more fun bantering with Hugh in this awful place than she could remember. 'Hugh, I think you're enjoying yourself with me.'
He looked at the wall to her right as he said, 'When you can refrain from teasing me, I like being around you.' When he glanced back at her disbelieving expression, he added in a gruff voice, 'Always enjoyed your company.'
There was something in his expression, the smallest hint of vulnerability, as if he expected—or only wanted —her to make the same admission. 'I enjoyed being with you as well,' she murmured.
'And byenjoy , you mean that you liked having someone at your beck and call to retrieve anything you could no' reach and to bait hooks.' Had the tight lines around his eyes relaxed somewhat? 'Admit it—you never lifted a paddle to row around the lake when I was near.'
'And you liked having me run my nails down your back, and filch for you whatever pie was cooling on the kitchen windowsill, and give you peeks of a transparent linen shift when we swam.'
His eyes went half-lidded. 'Christ, I did like you in nothing but wet linen.'
Her toes curled in her boots, as much from his admission as from his sudden hungry expression. But then he seemed to grow bewildered by what he'd just said, and strode outside toward the lake. She was right behind him.
At the edge of the water, they turned back to face the manor. Sidling next to him, she butted his arm with her head until he grumbled but lifted his arm to put it around her shoulders.
'I truly dinna know, Jane,' he said, his tone weary. 'I welcome your humor, but it does no' erase the fault. This has added at least two days' riding to get to Carrickliffe.'
Even if she weren't bent on staying here, the idea of more riding made her feel ill. 'This was a fine property once,' she offered, planting the seeds for a later request to stay here. If she came out and asked now, he would think she'd completely lost her mind. But, in truth, the place had probably been incredible at one time. Nicely situated on a hill overlooking the crystal-clear lake, the manor consisted of two wings. But the wings weren't
