“Wait until you see him. We’ve had nothing but winners out of our mares, but he is a prize.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Have you?” he asked. He took her hand. “I’m flattered my horse’s fame has spread already to London. Or has your father kept a particularly sharp eye on this part of the family?” He gave her fingers a little squeeze.
Lyssa didn’t know what to make of his words or his actions. She tried to move away, but her cousin kept his firm hold. She could not pull her hand away without insulting him. “My father admires fine bloodstock,” she murmured and then changed the subject, “Is that Loch Linnhe?” She attempted to gesture with the hand he held. The movement was awkward but served to get Ramsey to release his hold.
He smiled good-naturedly. He knew what she’d been about. “Yes, it is. There is a cliff there. Not steep, but one should be cautious all the same.”
“Why?” she asked. “Has someone gone off it?”
Anice answered, “Over the years we’ve lost a person or two.”
Lyssa looked out at the smooth water beyond the cliff and did not feel comfortable.
“Come,” Ramsey said and steered her toward a sitting room off the gallery. It was so small it only held a desk and two chairs. The walls were paneled and Lyssa could imagine the lady of thehouse using this room to make out her menus and list of chores for the week.
Above the desk hung the portrait.
The moment Lyssa set eyes on it, she could not speak. This was her mother as she’d never known her. This was the woman her father had fallen in love with, and Lyssa understood why.
Her mother’s skin was the color of rich cream, her eyes a laughing, sparkling blue. Lyssa remembered how, before her mother had become so terribly ill, their house had been full of her laughter.
In the portrait, her mother’s hair was a rich auburn. She sat beneath a spreading oak. Over her shoulder, she wore the Davidson plaid, much like Lyssa’s own, and behind her stood a horse as silvery white as the moon.Gealach. Her grandfather had placed in this picture everything of value to his clan—its pride and its beauty.
The wave of homesickness caught Lyssa off guard. She leaned over the desk as if wanting to see beyond the artist’s brushstrokes. In truth, she was moved to tears by how much she missed her mother.
Her trip was worth all the danger and hardship for this one moment. This was what she’d come looking for—a glimpse of her mother. Of her past. Of what might have been and was no more.
When her mother had died, she’d mourned as only a child can…but she hadn’t realized truly all that she’d lost. Her father had moved on. She couldn’t. There was no replacing her motherin her life. She’d lost the wisdom, the concern, the care…the understanding.
And no matter how long she lived, this void in her life would not be filled. Her mother’s love was irreplaceable.
But that didn’t mean she was betraying her mother’s memory by not stepping forward with her own life.
Sinking into the chair at the desk, Lyssa folded her hands and let the tears flow. They rolled down her cheeks and she didn’t bother to wipe them away.
She sensed Ramsey and Anice withdrawing as if embarrassed by her emotion. Ian moved closer and she welcomed his strength. If they were in private, she might have even reached for his hand.
“If you’d like, I’ll give you the portrait,” Ramsey offered.
“You would?” Lyssa said, looking up at him. “I would be ever so grateful. I would even pay for it.”
Ramsey knelt beside her chair and Ian was forced back. “I could not accept money from you, beautiful cousin.” He spoke in a low voice but she knew his words were heard by everyone…and there was the warmth of male interest in them.
She was too grateful to care. “Thank you. You cannot imagine what this means to me.”
“We’ve all lost someone or something in our lives and this is a fitting gift.” He stood. “Now, come. Dinner will be served intwo hours and we still haven’t taken you to your room to freshen up. I’m certain Birdy has seen to your luggage.”
“I have no luggage,” she confessed and then relying Ian’s earlier lie she said, “It was stolen when we were attacked.” She could have told the truth. She didn’t.
Ramsey shook his head. “How fortunate you are to be alive.”
“Yes,” Lyssa agreed.
Turning to their cousin, he said, “Anice, do you have a dress that would fit Lyssa?”
“I’m certain I do. I shall have one or two sent to your room.”
