Regency Proposal: The Laird's Forbidden Lady / Haunted by the Earl's Touch. Ann Lethbridge
one of her forbidden explorations.
A sound behind her. Cracking of twigs. She whirled around, hand to her heart.
A large figure loomed out of the low brush off to her left, an outline against the empty sea and starry sky. It lumbered towards her.
‘Hold,’ a male voice whispered loudly.
Why hadn’t the dog warned her? Friend or foe? Could she take a chance?
She turned to flee.
The man threw himself at her legs and flung her down.
Pain. Her shoulder wrenched. Her cheek scratched by heather. She cried out.
He cursed.
A hand came over her mouth. Heart racing wildly, she kicked out. Missed. Kicked again.
A brawny arm lifted and set her squarely on her feet. ‘Hist, now,’ he said in a low murmur. Scottish, she thought.
‘Silence, man,’ someone whispered from not far away. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Ah,’ her captor said. ‘It seems I have caught myself a spy.’
The taste of salt was strong in the back of Ian’s throat. He stared into the dark, catching the occasional glimmer of foam-crested waves. The steady crash and hiss of waves breaking on sand and the louder roar of water pounding the rocks filled his ears.
But his mind kept wandering. Hell. He had almost kissed Selina back in the tithe barn. The urge to taste her full lips, to feel her body pressed against his, to explore her soft curves with his hands had run hot in his blood. And if he wasn’t mistaken in the way those lips parted and her gaze had softened, she would have let him, too.
The attraction between them had not diminished over time. Indeed, if he wasn’t badly mistaken, it had increased exponentially. Damn it all, he had betrayed his family for her once. He would not do it again.
To be so distracted at such a time as this was insane. He forced his mind back to the job at hand. This last run of brandy would give him the money he needed to buy all the copper required for the still.
Everything was ready for the boat. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
He glanced at the man standing at the very edge of the promontory with a lantern at the ready. ‘Any sign of her?’
Gordy, the signalman, shook his head. ‘Nought.’
Ian grimaced. Time was wasting. He narrowed his eyes to look back across the rocks and the strip of beach into the gully where the men and ponies awaited the signal. They would come out on to the open beach only when the boat was almost aground. Well versed in their respective tasks, they would unload a boat and have the goods travelling back up on to the cliffs in less than ten minutes.
He scanned the cliff tops. No sign of his guards. And nor should there be. But they were there, ready to warn of intruders. He smiled grimly. As usual they’d outwitted the gaugers. Everything was going according to plan. Except the damned boat was late.
Hairs stirred on the back of his neck. The sensation had nothing to do with the stiff breeze hurling itself off the waves. He tried to shake off the feeling all was not well. Over the years, he’d learned to trust his instincts. Why would he ignore them now?
He glanced out to sea. Still no light from the ship. ‘I’m going up top to take a look around.’
Gordy nodded without turning, then stiffened, pointing. ‘There!’ he whispered. He fumbled with the lantern cover. ‘The light dipped beneath the waves, but … yes, there she is.’ Ian, too, could see the faint twinkle far out on the water.
Gordy flashed four times. Two flashes came back.
‘That’s them,’ Ian said. ‘Guide them in, lad. Any trouble, flash two long and two short, out there and up towards the cliffs, as well.’
‘I ken my job, Laird.’
Ian slapped him on the shoulder. ‘That you do, lad. Just reminding myself. I’ll let the men know we’ve sighted the ship.’ Then he’d climb the cliff to check on his guards.
He clambered across the rocks guarding each side of the small bay, keeping to the shadow. Once in the gully, out of the light of the stars and sheltered from the offshore breeze, he smelled the ponies. Manure and the smell of hardworking horse. And hardworking men. A familiar pungent smell. It had surrounded him most of his life. That and the danger. But the joy had gone out of it since Andrew had gone. His brother had loved the adventure of it.
This would be the last run. There was enough money in the coffers to buy the new still. A still that would be legal anywhere else in Britain but here in the Highlands.
‘Tammy,’ he called in a low voice. The man rose up from a rock. ‘She’s coming in.’
‘Aye,’ Tammy said. He nudged the man beside him. ‘Pass the word.’
‘I’ll be back down before she lands.’ Ian walked past the line of horses and men. Men he had trusted with his life more than once. Good men, who trusted him and who’d lose their homes if they didn’t bring this off safely. One or two of them muttered greetings as he passed.
At the end of the line, he passed a slight figure holding the bridle of an ass. Ian frowned. That made nine men. He’d thought there were eight. Was this the source of the troubled feeling he’d had out on the point? The man had a cap pulled down over his eyes and was trying to hide on the other side of his wee beast. Another thing that wasn’t right. They used ponies because they were more docile.
Ian reached over the animal and grabbed the man by the collar. A familiar face grinned up at him.
‘What the hell? Damn it, Logan, you are supposed to be caring for our mother.’
His brother shrugged him off. ‘It is a woman’s job,’ he said sullenly.
Ian closed his eyes in silent prayer for patience. ‘You know what Mother will do if anything happens to you. Make sure you stay out of trouble.’
‘She knows where I am. I’m no child to be left at home. You were out here at eighteen and I’m near twenty.’
‘That was different.’ In those days there hadn’t been anyone else to go. The clan had relied on him and Andrew to help them get through the winter. But for all his slight stature, Logan was right, he was old enough. And another pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But if the gaugers come, you are to run. I’m relying on you not to get caught. You’ll need to warn the village.’
Logan grinned, his teeth a quick white flash in the dark. ‘Aye. I’ll run like the wind. You can count on me.’
Ian knew he could. And if he tried to protect him, Logan would rebel and go his own way as Andrew had. ‘See you keep that damned beastie quiet.’
A dog whined. It jumped up at Logan, who pushed him down.
‘What in the devil’s name is Gilly doing here?’ Ian asked.
‘I dinna ken. I locked him in with Beau. He must have escaped.’
‘Carelessness,’ Ian said. ‘Keep the damn animal quiet.’
Logan glowered and made a grab for the dog. It darted out of reach.
The man next in line chuckled.
Ian smothered a cursed and left his brother to it.
The prickles on his neck had not subsided. If anything, they were worse. He climbed the steep path up the wall of the gully instead of following the track beside the burn tumbling down to the sea.
As he raised his head over the brow, a whiff of pipe