Page 52 of Return to Wildsyde

Luella nodded, retrieved her carpetbag, and then hesitated. “I don’t have any money,” she said bluntly.

Mr Knight’s expression softened, though his eyes were troubled. “Actually, Miss Fulbright, if we can come to an agreement about a little piece of land you own, you will have a great deal of money.”

“Land?” Luella said blankly. “But I don’t…”

She paused, remembering the lawyer who dealt with her father’s affairs, telling her of a scrubby piece of land by a river somewhere that was utterly worthless.

“Yes, that bit of land,” Mr Knight said with a warm smile. “Come along, Miss Fulbright. I will take you wherever you wish to go, and we will talk. That is… Do you have a companion, someone to chaperone?”

“No, Mr Knight, I am alone. But that is for the best, I assure you,” she said coolly. “Well, let us be off then. I am eager to know what you want with my land.”

“Are you certain you wish to leave like this? Are… Are you in some kind of trouble?”

His green eyes were filled with concern and Luella felt relief that he appeared to be a gentleman at least. As for being in trouble, she almost laughed.

“Quite certain, Mr Knight, and I assure you, I am leaving trouble behind me. Can we go at once, please?”

Mr Knight still looked concerned, but he nodded, offered her his arm, and escorted her to his carriage.

Lyall groaned and clutched at his head. At least, he thought it was his head. It felt like a lump of raw meat, all the nerves exposed. His stomach felt little better, his guts churning like fury. He lay still, breathing cautiously, wondering what the bloody hell had happened, and why the worst pain seemed to be in his chest. Was he dying?

A warm, wet tongue laved at his cheek, and he pushed Murdoch away with a grunt.

“Pack it in, ye daft beggar,” he protested, and then he remembered. Luella. Luella’s body warm and willing beneath his, her hands on him, her desire as fierce as his own as she gave herself to him. Except she hadn’t, because they’d been interrupted by Mrs MacLeod, damn her eyes and… and then he’d truly lost his mind.

He sat up with a groan, uncertain whether to hold his head or his guts. His head felt as if it was barely attached, but his guts were protesting louder. Breathing steadily in and out, he ordered himself not to boke. Christ. He needed to straighten himself out and go to Luella at once.

He’d been three hefty measures into the bottle of whisky he’d opened before he’d come to his senses and realised Luella could not have orchestrated the scene last night. There was no way she could have known he’d stayed up late, or that he’d go to the kitchen to find something to eat. She could not have predicted that he would follow her out, or that Murdoch would bark, and she’d have to try to keep him quiet.

She had done the right thing, leaving him when staying in the kitchen would have meant him taking her in his arms, for he’d meant to do it. Luella had gone, and he’d been the one who’d followed, he’d been the one who’d gone to the study and closed the door behind him. No one had forced him to go after her, to flirt with her and tempt her into doing what they were both desperate to do. It was all on him and, bastard that he was, he had put the blame squarely at her feet and left her to face Mrs MacLeod all by herself. Christ, he ought to be horsewhipped for that alone. He ought to have gone to her last night, but he hadn’t dared, not reeking of whisky and half seas over. It was too important he not mess things up and, in his current state, Lyall didn’t trust himself to say the right thing. If she hated him now, he had only himself to blame.

The idea made something like panic squirm in his chest. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might hate him. What would he do if he never again saw her blush as he caught her staring at him with that soft look in her eyes? What if she went away, so she never had to look at him again? The irony wasn’t lost on him, as he remembered the relief of his mother’s invitation. Yet instead of relief, the panicky sensation grew claws and teeth and scrabbled in his chest and Lyall pushed to his feet, suppressing a cry of pain. His head pounded as if someone were using it as an anvil.

“Pull yerself together, man. Ye must face her now, this instant,” he told himself, swallowing down the unpleasant taste that rose in his throat. Before he could take a step, the door burst open and he winced as it crashed against the wall, the sound exploding in his tender brain like a bullet.

“Jack,” he rasped, closing his eyes. “For the love of everything holy—”

“You promised!” Jack cried, and Lyall opened his eyes, realising now the boy’s face was red and tear-stained, his gaze furious. “You promised she could stay, that she had a home here. What did you do?”

A cold sensation of dread swept him from head to foot as Jack's accusing words penetrated his whisky-soaked brain. “Where is she?”

“Gone!” Jack said, his lip trembling. “She’s gone.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know! She says she’ll let me know when she’s settled, but she’s got no money, nowhere to go. She would never leave me, not like this, not unless she had to. Not unless you told her to.”

Lyall shook his head. “I did nae,” he said, though guilt and regret made the words hard to speak, for he wasn’t certain they were true. He might not have told her to go, but he’d not given her many options, had he? Not after what he’d said. “Oh, God.”

Jack launched himself at Lyall, hitting and kicking and for a moment, Lyall was too stunned to react. Then he caught hold of the boy, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll find her and bring her home, Jack, I swear it,” he said, not letting go until the boy subsided. Jack sobbed, clinging to him. “You’re right. It’s my fault, Jack, I… I made her feel she was nae welcome, but it’s nae true. I… I’ve been a fool. A pigheaded, stubborn fool. I’ll make it right. I swear it.”

Jack stared up at him, his face pale now the anger had left him. “You mean it this time? You’re not telling lies?”

Lyall met his gaze steadily. “I never tell lies, Jack. I’ve done a bad thing, something I regret more than I can tell ye, but I’m going to find her and bring her home, and I… I’ll never make her feel she doesnae belong here again.”

“Then I believe you,” Jack said, his expression uncompromising. Lyall knew then, if let him down, Jack would never forgive him for it. “Bring my sister home, Lyall. Please.”