Page 33 of Return to Wildsyde

Lyall frowned down at her, intensely disliking the feeling of having done something wrong and the guilt associated with it. Why the hell should he feel guilty for protecting his little brother, who had more hair than wit? If Lyall could get caught by a scheming female, no one was safe, and he did not trust this female an inch. She was too… too easy to believe in. Just look at her now, sitting there sipping coffee and looking all fragile and defeated, as if he’d done something wrong. She was the one who’d been laughing and messing about with Hamilton. It was she who had sent that seductive look at his brother with her eyes sparkling with mischief and that teasing note in her voice and…

Lyall’s jaw tightened, and he told himself to stop being so bloody ridiculous.

“There’s no need for you to stay.”

The voice was remarkably steady, and ice cold. Lyall looked back at Luella, who was carefully avoiding his eye.

“I’m sure you have far more important things to do,” she added, the words only a little slurred.

“Aye, I reckon, but I wanted to be sure ye are well,” he said, before adding judiciously: “Though I reckon ye will feel sorry for yerself yet a while.”

She shot him a look of deep irritation, which made him feel better. He much preferred to see her angry than that drowned kitten look he’d been regarding these past ten minutes.

“Ye will be willing to cut yer own heid off by morning,” he added, not above enjoying her discomfort a little.

“I’m willing now,” she said through her teeth.

Lyall’s lips twitched. “Well, t’was a very fine song, at least. The one about the pigeons, I mean.”

She shot him a look that promised retribution. “I hate you,” she said with feeling,

“Reckon I believe ye,” he replied, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “Though you have a good many admiring seagulls now. I can nae speak for the pigeons, mind.”

“If you laugh at me, I will kill you,” she warned him.

Relenting, he smiled at her. It was unfair of him to tease her when she felt so wretched. “Ach, come on, Luella, there’s nae harm done. We’ve all done stupid things when in our cups. Mrs Baillie will fix ye a cure for yer heid. Works like a charm, it does, and… and I… well, I may have been a little hasty earlier.”

“Hasty?” she repeated, incredulous. “I have done everything in my power to stay out of your way, and you think I would jeopardise Jack’s chances by flirting with your brother?”

She sent him a look of such disgust he felt scalded by it. Guilt stirred again, which in turn made resentment burn when Lilith had ruined everything so comprehensively.

“Well, ye can nae blame me for being sceptical, aye?” he shot back.

And there was the drowned kitten look again.

“No,” she said quietly, setting down her coffee cup. “I can’t blame you.”

With more dignity than balance, she hauled herself unsteadily to her feet and lurched towards the stairs. Lyall hurried after her, afraid she might fall, but she shook his hand off as he reached to steady her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, and so he let her go alone, shadowing her up the worn treads until he felt certain she would not break her neck.

“I hope ye feel better,” he said, to which she returned no answer, but went to her room and closed the door behind her.

Chapter 11

Dear Father,

Thank you for your confidence in me. I am leaving for Tweedmouth tomorrow morning and will meet the engineers at the station. I know you would prefer to do this work yourself, but finding Thorn is even more important and Montagu needs your support. I know how crucial this bridge is to your plans, though, and assure you I will do all in my power to ensure we find the correct placement for it. I will keep you posted.

Please give mother my love and remind her I am a grown man of one and twenty now. If she sends me another care package whilst I am away, I shall be forced to remonstrate with her.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Felix Knight to his father, Mr Gabriel Knight.

7th June 1845, Wildsyde Castle, The Highlands of Scotland.

Lyall looked up from the bill for repairs he was perusing at the sound of laughter and turned to look out of the window. Jack was trotting his pony very competently up and down in front of the castle while his sister looked on. He watched as she applauded and saw the answering smile on Jack’s face as he beamed at her, cheeks flushed with pleasure. Luella ran to him as he dismounted, hugging him tightly and kissing his head. Jack said something that made her laugh again, the merry sound echoing around the castle walls.

It was the first time he had seen or heard her since the whisky cherry incident, as he had labelled it in his mind. According to his mother, she had spent two days in bed, utterly wretched. Since then, she had resumed her self-imposed duties in the kitchen, but on the few occasions he had gone there—merely to save Mrs Baillie the trouble of climbing the stairs—she had contrived to be elsewhere. For well over two weeks, she had simply ceased to exist as far as he was concerned. Which was perfect, he reminded himself. That was exactly how he wanted it to be.