she’d thought—hoped—he’d warmed to her a little.
Somehow, she would make him see that marriage was not that bad.
She had to.
“Oh, my,” Abigail exclaimed as their open carriage entered Prince’s Street. She craned her head to look up a steep hill to the massive castle dominating the entire city. “It is huge .”
Shane chuckled. “It does command your attention.”
“How old is it?”
“It has been there since 1000 BC.”
Abigail stared at him. Was he jesting? “That is impossible. Castles were not built in stone until the Normans invaded in the eleventh century—”
“True, lass. Building the castle ye see began in the twelfth century, but there has been a fort there since before the Vikings invaded. The Romans called the place Din Eidyn. Whoever held that fort, held all of eastern Scotland.”
Abigail turned halfway around as the carriage turned off on Charlotte Street, not wanting to lose sight of the magnificent structure.
“Does someone still live there? Can we go inside?”
“Ye need to slow your questions.” Shane laughed again. “The answers are nae and aye.”
Abigail frowned, not about to be diverted. “Nae—no—to which?”
“No one actually lives up there. The royal residence is down the road at Holyrood. And aye, ye can visit the castle. But I thought ye wished to see where I live?”
“Oh, I do.” Abigail turned around to face the front and felt her eyes widen. Ahead of them was a small park enclosed by a circling carriageway lined with a crescent of Georgian–styled townhomes. It reminded her of the terraces at Regents Park or perhaps the Royal Crescent at Bath. Never would she have suspected to see such in Scotland.
“These look quite modern.”
“They are,” Shane answered as the hackney stopped in front of one. Shane paid the driver and helped Abigail down. “This is Moray’s Place in New Town.”
“Somehow, I had pictured old homes, almost medieval. Like the castle.”
“That would be Ian’s place. Ye will have to wait until we get to Glenfinnan,” Shane said as they walked toward the front door. “This meets my needs.” He was about to unlock the door when it opened and a plump, middle-aged lady beamed at them.
“’Tis happy I am to see ye home, lad,” she said.
“’Tis good to see ye too, Janet,” Shane replied, looking a little sheepish at being called lad . “This is my housekeeper,” he said to Abigail and then added to Janet, “This is my wife.”
“Och. I ken who she is. Albert sent a note along with the boy who brought her trunk.” Janet reached out to draw Abigail to her in a hug. “’Tis happy I am our laddie finally took a wife.” She released her, still chattering. “I will have lunch fixed for ye in just a wee bit. If ye care to rest a bit, the parlor is just across the hall.”
Abigail found herself liking the cheerful, friendly woman immediately. She certainly did not stand on ceremony. Abigail couldn’t imagine one of her father’s servants even touching her.
“Janet may take a bit of getting used to,” Shane said as the woman bustled away.
“I like her already.”
“I am glad. She is Albert’s wife. They are like family to me.”
Abigail smiled. “I thought as much when she called you laddie .”
“Hmph. She has known me since I was in knickers. Sometimes she forgets I am a grown man.”
“I do not think she forgets at all,” Abigail said on impulse and was gratified to see Shane flush slightly although his eyes crinkled. So he could take teasing? Tucking that bit of information away, she walked into the parlor. And stifled a gasp.
The room was nearly bare. No pictures adorned the walls. Plain beige draperies covered the windows on either side of the large fireplace and two straight armchairs faced the hearth with a small table between them. There was not even a proper sofa in the room. Abigail pasted a bright smile on her face and turned to Shane. “Will you show me the rest of the
Somehow, she would make him see that marriage was not that bad.
She had to.
“Oh, my,” Abigail exclaimed as their open carriage entered Prince’s Street. She craned her head to look up a steep hill to the massive castle dominating the entire city. “It is huge .”
Shane chuckled. “It does command your attention.”
“How old is it?”
“It has been there since 1000 BC.”
Abigail stared at him. Was he jesting? “That is impossible. Castles were not built in stone until the Normans invaded in the eleventh century—”
“True, lass. Building the castle ye see began in the twelfth century, but there has been a fort there since before the Vikings invaded. The Romans called the place Din Eidyn. Whoever held that fort, held all of eastern Scotland.”
Abigail turned halfway around as the carriage turned off on Charlotte Street, not wanting to lose sight of the magnificent structure.
“Does someone still live there? Can we go inside?”
“Ye need to slow your questions.” Shane laughed again. “The answers are nae and aye.”
Abigail frowned, not about to be diverted. “Nae—no—to which?”
“No one actually lives up there. The royal residence is down the road at Holyrood. And aye, ye can visit the castle. But I thought ye wished to see where I live?”
“Oh, I do.” Abigail turned around to face the front and felt her eyes widen. Ahead of them was a small park enclosed by a circling carriageway lined with a crescent of Georgian–styled townhomes. It reminded her of the terraces at Regents Park or perhaps the Royal Crescent at Bath. Never would she have suspected to see such in Scotland.
“These look quite modern.”
“They are,” Shane answered as the hackney stopped in front of one. Shane paid the driver and helped Abigail down. “This is Moray’s Place in New Town.”
“Somehow, I had pictured old homes, almost medieval. Like the castle.”
“That would be Ian’s place. Ye will have to wait until we get to Glenfinnan,” Shane said as they walked toward the front door. “This meets my needs.” He was about to unlock the door when it opened and a plump, middle-aged lady beamed at them.
“’Tis happy I am to see ye home, lad,” she said.
“’Tis good to see ye too, Janet,” Shane replied, looking a little sheepish at being called lad . “This is my housekeeper,” he said to Abigail and then added to Janet, “This is my wife.”
“Och. I ken who she is. Albert sent a note along with the boy who brought her trunk.” Janet reached out to draw Abigail to her in a hug. “’Tis happy I am our laddie finally took a wife.” She released her, still chattering. “I will have lunch fixed for ye in just a wee bit. If ye care to rest a bit, the parlor is just across the hall.”
Abigail found herself liking the cheerful, friendly woman immediately. She certainly did not stand on ceremony. Abigail couldn’t imagine one of her father’s servants even touching her.
“Janet may take a bit of getting used to,” Shane said as the woman bustled away.
“I like her already.”
“I am glad. She is Albert’s wife. They are like family to me.”
Abigail smiled. “I thought as much when she called you laddie .”
“Hmph. She has known me since I was in knickers. Sometimes she forgets I am a grown man.”
“I do not think she forgets at all,” Abigail said on impulse and was gratified to see Shane flush slightly although his eyes crinkled. So he could take teasing? Tucking that bit of information away, she walked into the parlor. And stifled a gasp.
The room was nearly bare. No pictures adorned the walls. Plain beige draperies covered the windows on either side of the large fireplace and two straight armchairs faced the hearth with a small table between them. There was not even a proper sofa in the room. Abigail pasted a bright smile on her face and turned to Shane. “Will you show me the rest of the
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