Bride of the Solway Read online

  'Glad to hear it, ma'am. It is good to see that you have learned some sense where that animal is concerned.'

  'It was not his fault!' she protested hotly. 'You could see perfectly well that it was not. The saddle was slipping and, because we were galloping downhill, it was impossible for him to stop.' , .

  Ross was silent for a moment. In fact, there was some truth in what she said. The circumstances had been very difficult. He doubted he would have been able to do any better, in her place. 'Miss Elliott, did you say your brother checked your horse's girths?'

  'I...' She was blushing again. 'I thought he did, but perhaps it was Tam. My brother is a good horseman. He would not have made such a mistake. Tam will be lucky to escape with just harsh words over this.'

  She had avoided Ross's eyes as she spoke. He was sure—almost sure—that she did not believe a word of it. Did she really think he would be so easily fooled?

  Cassie was very glad to be back in her own saddle on her own horse. She was safe enough now. Captain Graham had adjusted the saddle and checked the girths most carefully before throwing her up once more.

  At least he had not touched her body again. Those few hundred yards they had ridden together had been most unsettling. The subtle scent of him—soap and leather and a hint of cologne—teased at her senses still. She had felt all sorts of tingles and urges that she was sure no lady should feel—or at least, should admit to feeling. His warm breath tickling her ear had sent shivers down her spine. His strong right arm, settled around the front of her waist as if it belonged there, had made her insides glow like rippling quicksilver. And after he had dismounted, there had been an unmistakeable glint in his eyes when he put his hands to her waist to lift her down. She was no lightweight, but to him she had seemed to weigh no more than a feather. And when she slid down into his arms, she had felt almost.. .caressed. For a second or two, she had been unable to breathe.

  Yes, she was much safer on her own horse. Safer from herself.

  'Do you feel well enough to ride back now, ma'am?'

  'Of course, sir. Did you expect that I would not be?' Cassie was an­noyed to hear a tiny hint of a quiver in her voice. If she had been alone, she would have cursed aloud. Instead, she just hoped that Captain Graham would blame it on her near disaster. Better for him to think her a weak woman than to suspect the real cause of that catch in her voice.

  Her precarious composure had been much too strongly affected by thai short ride in his arms. Whereas he—obviously just as insensitive as most men she knew—seemed to have noticed nothing at all out of the ordinary.

  At that moment, James Elliott reached them at the gallop. Colonel Anstruther was trailing some way behind, on his old, slow horse. 'Cassie! Are you hurt? What happened? It looked as if—' 'My saddle girths were loose,' she said flatly, trying to conceal her an­ger from Captain Graham. She would confront James, but not until they were alone.

  'Tarn!' James said, with venom. 'I'll have his hide. He could have killed you.'

  'Well, he did not. Thanks to Captain Graham's quick thinking.' She smiled at her rescuer. 'I am truly grateful to you, sir.' She then turned to James, throwing him a meaningful look. She was determined that her brother would swallow his spite and behave properly. 'James?'

  'Ah, yes, of course. Thank you, sir, for saving my sister. If you had not been close by, she would certainly have taken a bad fall. We are both most grateful.'

  'I am only glad I was near enough to save you, ma'am. Now, had we not best be returning? Look, here is the colonel at last. He will wish to be reassured that you have come to no harm.'

  The captain had not responded to James, Cassie noted. His words had been clearly directed to her. But she had no opportunity to ponder the J reason for that snub, for the colonel was upon them and she had to e -plain her misadventure all over again. J

  'Did you deliberately loosen my girth?' :

  'Of course not. Why would I do such a dangerous thing? Tarn must have—'

  'Tarn was nowhere near my horse and we both know it. I saw you by him, James. I thought you were tightening the girths. Now I see that it was nothing of the sort. I know you detest me, but why try to kill me?' .',v 'I was not trying to kill you, you stupid wench. I was only—'

  Cassie tried to control the anger that boiled up into her throat. She had j suspected him, but she had never believed he would admit it. Now, she knew for certain. 'You must have had some other reason, then. Perhaps you would care to share it with me?' She kept her tone low and measured. It was not easy.

  James ran his hand through his hair and started to pace about the colonel's library. 'It was a perfectly sensible thing to try. I knew you would feel the saddle slipping and take action to save yourself from real harm. You are too good a rider to do otherwise. I thought you might have a few bruises, be winded, that sort of thing.'

  'But why?'

  'Good God, Cassie, have you no brains between those pretty ears of yours? To extend this visit, of course. If you were injured, however slightly, Colonel Anstruther would have had to offer you hospitality un­til you were recovered. He would have had to stay here with you. And he would have been concerned about your injuries. It would have brought you closer to him.'

  Cassie groaned. She could not help herself, for she was beginning to wonder whether James was totally sane. She had thought his previous cru­elties were the result of his hatred of her, and of his desperate need for money to pay his mounting debts, but now she was no longer sure. He was obsessed with this mad idea of marrying her off to Colonel Anstruther. Did obsession lead to lunacy?

  James was no longer paying any attention to Cassie. He seemed not to have noticed her distress. He continued to pace, muttering under his breath.

  For the first time, Cassie was really frightened. Before, she had been afraid that he might force her to marry some terrible drunken crony of his, if he could find one who was wealthy enough. She had tried to flee, but she had always known that, even if she were dragged to the altar, there was still a chance that she might be able to persuade the minister that she was being married against her will.

  But from this madness, there might be no escape. Not alive.

  She must get away. Her only hope was to reach her godfather on the other side of the Solway. This time she must plan carefully. She must wait until James was away from Langrigg House. Preferably lying drunk in some whorehouse.

  This time there must be no risk that she would be caught.

  It was still very light when they sat down to dinner, for the colonel liked to keep country hours. 'It would make no difference in any case,' he said, in response to Cassie's comment. 'We could sit down at eight o'clock, or even nine, and it would still be light at this time of the year. I must admit it was something I missed, when we were in Spain. Darkness seemed to fall so early and so quickly. I missed the twilight. Did you find the same, Graham?'

  'The contrast with my home in southern England is not so great, sir. So I have to admit that I barely noticed the difference.'

  'Perhaps you were too busy looking for somewhere to drink tea, sir?' Cassie asked mischievously.

  Ross was surprised into a burst of laughter. 'Forgive me, Colonel. Something of a private joke. When Miss Elliott called on your wife in Dumfries, she created a fantastic image in her mind of young officers, sitting around the camp fire, sedately drinking bowls of tea. I told her, of course,' he continued with a half-smile, 'that we suffered nothing but the cruellest hardships and that polite tea-drinking played no part in army manoeuvres. But she would have none of it.'

  The colonel smiled indulgently. 'I see. You would be wise not to be­lieve the half of what young officers tell you, Miss Elliott. Notoriously unreliable, particularly when their aim is to bring wonder to a pair of pretty blue eyes.'

  Was the colonel flirting with her? Cassie looked across the table to where James sat, alongside Captain Graham. James was looking particu­larly pleased. He must think his plans were making real progress. Could he not see the diffe
rence between fatherly concern and a lover's admira­tion? Captain Graham, sitting on the colonel's immediate left, was showing neither. For the moment, he seemed to be giving all his attention to the dishes set before them and to the colonel's exceptionally fine wine.

  Cassie wondered again, for perhaps the hundredth time, whether she could and should confide in Captain Graham about her plans. He had saved her once—twice, if she included this afternoon's accident—and he knew just how evil James could be. But, if he helped her again, in something so serious, he might truly fall foul of the law. It was so very difficult. The truth was that, if she was to have any chance of success, Cassie needed some money. There was none to be had at Langrigg House, so her only option was to borrow. And the only possible sources of a loan were Colonel Anstruther and Captain Graham. There was no one else.

  Cassie's stomach churned yet again at the prospect of asking either of those gentlemen for money, even as a loan. How could she possibly explain it? And what would they think of her? A lady must never take anything from a gentleman, unless he were related to her. A posy of flow­ers, perhaps, but nothing more. No jewels, or dresses, or other fripper­ies, and certainly no money. If she had had jewels of her own, it might have been possible to sell them, or pawn them. But she had nothing.

  'A little more wine, Miss Elliott?'

  'Er...just a little. Thank you, Colonel.' She told herself sternly to pay more attention. Daydreaming at the colonel's dinner table, even on so important a subject, would merely bring more of James's wrath upon her head. She must appear to be doing everything possible to ensnare her host. Then James might relax his vigilance a little. It needed only a little.

  The second course had just been set out on the long table. 'May I help you to a little of this Rhenish cream, ma'am?'

  'Thank you, colonel. Only a spoonful, if you would, for I see a dish of your beautiful strawberries at my brother's elbow and I should very much like to taste them again.'

  The colonel nodded and beamed.

  So did James.

  Cassie forced herself to give all her attention to the conversation around the table. She would have plenty of opportunity to make her plans when she was in the drawing room, while the gentlemen sat at their port. She might be alone for quite a time.

  She was just about to rise when Captain Graham said, 'I do hope you are fully recovered from this afternoon's unfortunate episode, Miss Elliott.'

  He was looking straight into her eyes as he spoke. Was there some­thing more there?

  'A good night's sleep is bound to restore you, ma'am. Perhaps, Colonel, we should not sit too long over our port, this evening?'

  'Quite so. Quite so. I was on the point of saying the very same thing. Besides, it would be the height of bad manners to abandon Miss Elliott when I have purposely invited her here to enjoy the house and garden. If you are not too fatigued, ma'am, we might perhaps take a stroll round the garden a little later? It seems to be a remarkably balmy evening.'

  'That would be delightful, sir. I am sure the garden will be particu­larly beautiful in the gathering twilight. And, as it seems to mean a great deal to you, I should very much like to see its effects. I have been sadly untutored in the past.' Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie could see that James was beaming again. It was bad enough that he had concocted his wicked plans, but did he have to be quite so obvious about it?

  Taking a final sip of her wine—she needed a little courage—Cassie rose in her place. The colonel moved quickly to pull back her chair. 'If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will leave you to your port and retire to the drawing room.' She smiled round at them all.

  Captain Graham moved to open the door for her. He was still looking at her in that peculiar way. What was he trying to tell her? But he said only, 'We will join you shortly, ma'am. I am very much looking forward to a stroll in the garden.'

  Goodness! Now, what was the reason for that? Was he planning to cut out his host with the only female guest? Cassie felt a little fluttering in the pit of her stomach, at the thought that two gentlemen might be vying for her attention. Then her practical side reasserted itself. She must be imagining it.

  James Elliott had taken his sister's empty place and was pouring him­self yet another bumper of port. Any normal man would have had to be carried out after the amount Elliott had drunk, but he was clearly used to it. He was slurring his words a little, but that was all. So far.

  Ross was giving half his mind to his conversation with the colonel, but part of his brain continued to puzzle over Miss Elliott, her brother, and all the extraordinary things Ross had learned about that family. Fraser, of course, had been as good as his word. Ross now knew that Cassandra Elliott was the daughter of a tyrant father and a lunatic mother.

  No. That was not fair. Her mother had been confined to an asylum by her husband and had died there. But Fraser had not been able to state with certainty that the woman was actually mad. Ross knew of too many families who confined relatives in asylums for reasons other than mad­ness. Given the powers that men had over wives and children, the Bedlam provided all too easy a prison for the difficult, the imperfect, or the simply unwanted.

  Ross had set Fraser on to discover what the true reasons were. With luck, he would soon have something worthwhile to report. What he had discovered about the brother had merely confirmed Ross's own conclu­sions. The man was bad, through and through. He was a drinker and a gambler. He was a regular customer in all the local whorehouses. And he was said to be involved in smuggling. Considering the extent of his debts—which Fraser had also reported—Elliott seemed to be a singu­larly unsuccessful smuggler.

  Miss Elliott, in contrast, was apparently none of these things, possibly because she had spent so many years in a fashionable Edinburgh semi­nary, well away from the influences of her father and brother. She was believed to be well educated and well read; and she had been in charge of running the household at Langrigg for several years, since just before the death of her father. According to Fraser, the gentry in Dumfries viewed Miss Elliott as something of a recluse. She was rarely seen in the town and did not make calls. Moreover, the ladies of Dumfries were not made welcome if they visited Langrigg House. Miss Elliott herself was a perfect hostess, but her brother was always in attendance and he made callers feel uneasy. Fraser had been able to learn of no one who had visited twice.

  It was a truly strange household. Ross's curiosity was piqued. If he could persuade Miss Elliott to walk with him, tete-a-tete, he might be able to discover the answers to some of his many questions.

  Ross's conscience smote him then. Aye, he knew well enough that it was more than idle curiosity. He must admit that he was sorry for the girl. And that he would help her if he could. Her life must be intolerable. It was only right that a gentleman should feel compassion.

  That was all it was. Nothing more. Just compassion.

  Cassie sat alone by the fire, stitching methodically. In, out. In, out. The colonel, the captain; the colonel, the captain. In, out; in out. She could not decide. Which of them would she dare to confide in?

  The colonel was older, fatherly. He might deal with a father's care. Then again, he might react with a father's horror at what she was doing.

  The captain was younger. Cassie recognised at that moment that she knew practically nothing about Captain Graham. The colonel had spoken for him—that was in his favour—but he might be a gambler and a drunk­ard, just like James. How would she ever know?

  Who to trust? In, out; in, out. She might as well leave it to chance.

  If the opportunity offered in conversation with either of them, she must seize it. For, by tomorrow evening, she would be back in her prison at Langrigg House.

  Colonel Anstruther brought his teacup back himself. 'It is still a beau­tiful evening, Miss Elliott. Would you care for a stroll in the garden? I can send a servant for your shawl, if you wish.'

  Cassie rose, smiling up at him. 'I came prepared, sir.' She indicated a fine Norwich shawl lying across the ba
ck of a chair by the fireplace. 'I was admiring the garden from my bedroom window and imagining just how it would be in the twilight. I am glad that the weather has remained so mild.'

  The colonel beamed. Then he fetched Cassie's shawl and draped it carefully round her shoulders. 'If you are ready, ma'am?' he said, offer­ing his arm. .

  'May I join you, sir?'

  'Why, yes, of course, Graham. And you, too, Elliott, if you wish.'

  James shook his head, muttering something about his lack of interest in gardens. As the little party made its way out through the door to the garden, James slumped back into his chair, reaching for his glass. Cassie found herself wishing that the colonel's hospitality was rather less gen­erous. By the time she returned, her brother was likely to be very drunk indeed. She resolved to escape to her bedchamber as soon as she could. If James was going to become belligerent, as he often did when in his cups, she did not want to witness it. She had too often been the butt of his crude and cruel jokes. To suffer such humiliation in front of the colonel—or Captain Graham—would be more than she could bear.

  The garden paths were not wide enough for three persons to walk abreast. Colonel Anstruther led the way, with Cassie on his arm. Captain Graham followed a pace or two behind, just close enough to take part in the conversation.

  Cassie tried to swallow her frustrations. She had resolved to confide in whichever of the gentleman provided the first opportunity. But with both of them at her side, there was likely to be no opportunity at all.

  Ross was listening with half an ear to the colonel's description of the plants in his garden. The names meant little to him, but he had to admit that the effect was very pleasing, even though some of the shrubs and flowers were newly planted and still small.

  'In a few years' time, the jasmine will have completely covered this arch,' the colonel said, indicating a climbing plant with very dark leaves and tiny white trumpet-shaped flowers.

  Miss Elliott bent down to sniff at them. 'Mmm. Such a wonderful fra­grance. I would not have expected it to flower so young, sir. It must be because of the sheltered aspect of this garden, do you think?'