“No. My mother died when I was very young. My father, more recently.” An ache settled around her heart. There had been no time to mourn. To grieve over the loss of her father. Through some miracle, her voice remained steady. “So you see, there’s just me.” Hastily she amended the statement. “And Uncle Murdoch, of course. He was my mother’s only brother.”
“Is your uncle married?”
His interest was keen. Too keen for curiosity? she wondered.
“No,” she lied. “When my father died, I took up residence with Uncle Murdoch.”
She pushed herself to her feet and stood, looking out to sea. Alec rose and stood beside her. All at once her insides knotted. She swallowed a rush of awareness. His nearness was distracting. Disturbing. Not even an inch separated them. She was keenly aware of his height, his size. She heartily prayed that he would move.
He did not. Instead she felt his gaze on her profile, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
“Such avid concentration,” he said. “May I ask what you are thinking about, your grace?”
She was thinking that he shouldn’t be calling her “your grace,” for one thing. “You may ask, but that doesn’t mean I must answer.”
“Oh, come, we are husband and wife. May I not be privy to your thoughts?ShouldI not be privy to your thoughts?”
“Only if I am privy to yours,” she said lightly.
“Touché,” he said dryly.
Maura glanced up at him. “Very well, then. There’s a promontory near my home. Sometimes I would climb there. It took nearly half a day since it’s very near the most northernmost part of Ireland. You cannot imagine…It has the most unparalleled view.”
“I think I can imagine.” She had no idea that Alec’s gaze was trained solely on her.
“The sea was all around,” she went on. “To the north. The east and west. It was like being on top of the world, and I used to fancy I could see clear to the Arctic. It rained sometimes, but still I stayed. Because when the sun came out, there was always the most glorious rainbow. It looked like it stretched around the world.” A faint wistfulness crept into her voice. “It was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”
“Oh, but you’ve not yet seen a Scottish rainbow.”
“The sky is too gray here for a rainbow proper,” she informed him primly. As if to prove it, she gestured upward where the entire sky was locked in cloud cover.
He gave a raucous laugh. “You’re touting the beauty of an Irish rainbow? On that soggy bog of an island?”
Maura wrinkled her nose at him.
Together they turned and started toward the headland. The wind gusted furiously now, stinging her eyes so that she could scarcely see. She led the way up the rocky pathway to the lane carefully, with Alec close behind. One particularly fierce blast sent her reeling back. His hand at her back was all that kept her upright. Once again he rescued her.
The rain began the instant they were seated in the gig. It pummeled them like ice. Maura grabbed the strings of her bonnet. They ripped through her fingers and her bonnet sailed away. Her cloak flapped high, like the wings of a gigantic bat.
It seemed to take forever to get back to Gleneden, though it was little more than a mile or so. Near the entrance, a groom took hold of the bridle. Lifting her down, Alec held her hand as they climbed the stairs.
Once they were behind closed doors, he turned to her. “I’ll boast no more about our Scottish sunshine. Now, why don’t you have a bath, a nap if you like, since you didn’t sleep well last night. Or if you wish, I can show you your new home.”
Her new home. Guilt prodded her. Gleneden would never be her home, but for the time it took to find the Circle. “I’d love to see the house,” she said quickly.
“We’re both in need of dry clothing. I must sign a few documents with my estate manager as well, so it may be half an hour or so. Shall I knock on your door when I’m ready?”
She detected a slight derision on his part. At least he’d asked this time. She walked away, concealing her excitement. This would give her the chance to determine where to begin her hunt for the Circle.
Chapter Ten
It was Mrs. Yates who came to fetch Maura. She explained that Alec awaited her in his study; he was still conferring with the estate manager. An endearing woman, Maura learned that Mrs. Yates had been with the household since she was a young girl. She proudly informed Maura that she was appointed housekeeper when Alec’s mother—the Dowager Duchess since Alec had wed—had been a bride herself.
Another needle of guilt. Alec’s mother was still the Duchess of Gleneden.
Alec was bent over a map spread out on a monstrous-sized table, along with another man. When he saw Mrs. Yates and Maura by the door, he beckoned Maura inside.
He straightened. “Maura. Mr. Campbell, may I present my wife, Duchess of Gleneden. Maura, this is my estate manager, Malcolm Campbell. We don’t hold it against him that he was born into the Campbell Clan, but neither do we let him forget it.” Alec’s tone was wry.
