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Chapter Four
Attie sipped hertea and leaned back into the soft armchair. When she closed her eyes, she swore she could still feel the motion of the carriage, rocking to and fro.
Delilah and Fraser sat together by the fireplace, sharing the companionable silence enjoyed by true soulmates. Though Fraser was a duke, he didn’t act like one. He lacked the desperation among the aristocracy to display his superiority to the world and was content to sit in silence when among friends, and Attie, despite her society upbringing, preferred the informal intimacy of a family party. As for Delilah—Attie’s sister-in-law had once been described by Lord Francis as “the most unduchess-like duchess in the whole kingdom,” a title which, though intended to insult, she relished.
Footsteps approached, and Attie smiled. She didn’t have to open her eyes to recognize her husband’s gait. A warm hand took hers, and a small fizz of pleasure rushed through her. Perhaps, now they were free from the confines of London and among people who loved them, they could regain their former intimacy.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
She opened her eyes. “A little.”
“Why don’t you have a rest before supper?”
“No,” she said. “I want to be awake when Thea and Griffin arrive. And Delilah has asked me to help her decorate the hall for the children’s Christmas party.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s my sister—bossing the world about, making them bend to her will.”
“I heard that, brother!” a sharp voice spoke from across the room.
“I think you were meant to, my love,” Fraser said, laughing.
“I want to help,” Attie said. “There’s nothing more enjoyable than decorating a room for Christmas.”
“Which is just as well,” Delilah said. “Malcolm has collected two sackfuls of holly and fir branches—enough to decorate the whole of Scotland, let alone Glendarron. The children will enjoy it. Flora is particularly skilled at weaving a holly wreath.”
“Where are the children?” Attie asked, rising from her seat. “Are they being tended to?”
Her husband placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back.
“You’re on vacation, my love,” he said. “Francine’s asleep, and Sebastian’s exploring the grounds with Flora and Campbell.”
“Then Delilah and I must rely on you to help us with the decorations.”
“I’d like to take the air first,” he said, “and explore the mountain.”
Delilah glanced out of the window and shook her head. “A storm’s coming, Dev—see the purple hue of the clouds? By tonight, the mountain will be covered in snow.”
“Nevertheless, I insist.”
“Then let me accompany you,” Fraser said, uncurling his long, lean limbs and stretching.
“I’d rather be alone.”
“At least take Malcolm. He knows the mountain better than anyone.”
“I don’t need your ghillie to guide me,” Devon said, irritation in his tone.
Fraser raised his eyebrows, and Delilah placed a hand on his arm. “Leave him be,” she said in a low voice.
“Are you all right?” Attie asked.
“I merely want a little time to myself.”
“I understand,” she whispered. “Come back to me, won’t you?”
She tipped her face up, offering her lips for a kiss.
He lowered his head, and her body fizzed with anticipation, then he brushed his lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss and patted her hand.
