Page 21 of Kidnapping Cordelia

Curious, Delia set the tray aside and slid from the bed. She exclaimed as her bare feet touched the freezing floor. Dancing about a little, she tiptoed over to the window and peered out, her cold toes quite forgotten as she regarded the spectacular view before her.

Though Delia had grown up in the countryside, it had looked nothing like this. This was a far harsher landscape than the one she had known in Norfolk, and yet it was still beautiful. Stunning, in fact. Looking out of the window, she could almost believe she was the only person in the entire world, for it showed her a vast expanse of stark, open plains that seemed to her eye to go on into infinity.

“Good morning, my lady.”

Delia turned to see a pretty young woman had entered the room, holding a billowing mass of fabric. She bobbed a quick curtsy and smiled, her eyes bright with interest.

“I’m Eilidh, my lady. Mrs Baillie sent me to help ye, and Lady Buchanan has provided a few gowns for ye to try. I’m to make any alterations, should they be needed, and I’m a fair hand with a needle, I promise.”

“I’m sure you are, Eilidh, thank you,” Delia said, smiling at her and shivering as the cold by the window seeped into her bones.

“Ach, ye will catch yer death, standing there in nowt but yer shift. Hop back into a bed a moment while I run down and fetch the hot water, aye, and then we’ll set to.” Eilidh, who looked to be perhaps a year or two younger than Delia’s four and twenty years, bit her lip anxiously. “If that pleases ye, my lady.”

Delia smiled and nodded. “It does, indeed, thank you.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady. I’ve never attended a duke’s daughter before. Ye may dislike my manners, I’m thinking?” she said sheepishly, laying the gowns she had brought on the bed.

“Not a bit of it,” Delia replied, meaning it. “I am not the least bit high in the instep and prefer plain speaking. You do as you would for any other lady visiting the castle and we shall rub along nicely.”

“Thank ye, I shall do so, but ye must tell me if I go awry,” she said firmly, hurrying to the door. “I won’t be above a moment,” she added, dashing out again.

Delia laughed softly, climbing back into bed to await the hot water and deciding that she liked Eilidh a good deal.

“Well, I’m glad to see ye back, laddie. I feart ye would leave all the hard work to me, and I’m nae spring chicken, ye ken.”

“I’m gladder to be back, ye may be sure, Dugald,” Muir replied, shaking his farm manager’s hand. Dugald MacDonald was a large man in his fifties with massive shoulders and the weatherworn complexion that spoke of a lifetime spent out of doors. “Have ye had any problems?”

“Nae, but I’m hearing tell that ye have had a wee bit of excitement yerself, aye?”

Muir glowered, irritated. “Have folks no better things to do than blether about matters that dinnae concern them?”

“Nae, laddie, of course they dinnae.”

“Ach, and I’m nae yer laddie, Dugald,” he added, scowling.

Dugald swiped the hat from his head and gave Muir a considering look. “Reckon ye have been away too long. Yer crabbit and ’tis nae like ye, but I’ll call ye sir if ye prefer it. ’Tis hard when I have known ye since ye were a bairn, though, aye?”

Muir sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Nae, Dugald. Ignore me. I shall be in a better humour when I’ve seen everything is as it ought to be.”

Dugald nodded, accepting this, and they strode out.

A fresh cold wind blew in, bringing with it the salt tang of the sea from barely a mile away, and Muir breathed deep. The familiar smell settled his nerves, cleansing his spirit as the brisk walk shook off some of the impatience with which he’d risen. Despite his fatigue and the generous amount of whisky his brother had provided, he’d slept ill and woken with a sense of simmering anger towards Delia, which he knew was ill-placed. The girl was innocent in all of this, bloody Goodfellow and that bastard Malmsey were to blame, and he knew it. Yet he felt trapped, imprisoned in a snare that had forced him into offering for a wife he did not want.

“They look bonnie, aye?”

Dugald’s voice broke into his dark thoughts, and he looked up to focus on the flock of fine, healthy ewes.

“Aye,” Muir agreed. “Are the men ready?”

“Aye, I’ve engaged extra hands, for I reckon the lambing will be full upon us in a few days at most. Ye have come back just in time.”

“I always intended to be home for the first of April,” Muir assured him. “Ye dinnae think I would shirk my duty, I hope?”

Dugald grinned at him and gave him a hearty slap on the back. “Nae, laddie.”

Muir snorted and muttered something rude, and the two men continued their inspection of the flock in quiet accord.

Delia made her way down the stairs, her skirts and petticoats swishing as she went. When she got to the bottom, she gave a little squeak of alarm as the front door opened, bringing a gust of cold, fresh air and three enormous dogs.