from the edge when she saw a shadowy figure, saw it start toward her.
The lack of words, of greeting or apology, alerted her. She darted toward the stairs, making it just seconds before the shadow, and she flew down the steps. After reaching the third landing, she slowed and listened. Nothing. No sound behind her.
Her breath was coming in fast, hard gusts. Her heart pounded. Her legs felt weak. She would have sworn the figure had meant her harm, had meant to sweep her off the parapet. Her legs felt weak. She stood. Still listening.
Then she went down the stairs. She would find a servant downstairs and ask him to go up with her.
There was no one on the second floor where her rooms and Reginald’s were. She decided to try his door.
She knocked. Louisa opened it.
“Reginald,” Janet said. “Is he here?”
“No,” Louisa said. Her eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong? You look pale.”
Janet had no wish to explain herself to Louisa. She just shook her head and closed the door and continued down to the main hall. There she found MacKnight, who’d been her husband’s man. She didn’t know his first name, had never heard it.
“Will you look up on the battlement?” she asked.
He looked at her curiously, but bobbed his head, “Aye, my lady.” He took a torch from one of the wall sconces and led the way up. She followed him up the steep, stone steps.
She wasn’t surprised to find it empty. She took MacKnight’s torch and looked around the battlement. There was no sign anyone had been there.
Her foot hit a pebble and it went skidding across the stone.
“My lady?”
She felt cold. And alone.
“Thank you,” she said.
She led the way back to her chamber, then gave him the torch. An oil lamp lit her own chamber.
“Would ye be wantin‘ more wood?” MacKnight asked.
She realized then she was shivering. She looked inside her room. Colin was still asleep, a thumb in his mouth. The logs in the fireplace were blazing. Several more logs lay alongside.
“No,” she said, “I am fine.”
“If ye be needing anything ...”
“I’ll call you,” she said with a small smile.
Uncertain, he stood there for a moment, then bobbed his head and backed out of the door.
Janet went to her son. He had kicked off the bedclothes. She covered him, leaned down and kissed him. It would be hard not to hover over him forever.
She looked down at her hands. They felt ice-cold.
Then she went to the window and looked out.
Quiet
. Everything was quiet. The few servants were abed. No strangers were outside lurking.
Had she been mistaken upstairs? And if not, who had been up there?
Chapter Four
Janet confronted Reginald. He’d arrived home sometime in the morning and was coming out of his room.
“I want to see the household books,” she said.
He gave her what she was sure was meant as a reassuring smile. “Now Janet, you do not want to bother yourself with that. I will take care of everything.”
“That is very kind of you,” she said, holding her temper. “But Lochaene belongs to my son, and I feel responsible. I believe I should know what is happening.”
“Tis a mon’s business,” Reginald said. “The servants and tenants would no‘ pay mind to a lass.”
“Mayhap,” she said, “but that is not your concern. Our debts are not being paid, the horses are not being fed. I want to know what rents are being paid and what are owed.”
Reginald’s face turned the shade of a ripe apple. “You are a woman,” he said.
“I have not been under the illusion of being anything else over the past twenty-seven years,” she retorted. “But my son is an earl, and I am Countess Lochaene.”
“My brother died before his time, before”he added with emphasis“he made a will.”
“The estate is entailed,” she said calmly, though her stomach was roiling.
“But a guardian could be appointed,” he said. “A
competent
guardian.”
She felt as if he had hit her in the stomach. She wondered whether that
The lack of words, of greeting or apology, alerted her. She darted toward the stairs, making it just seconds before the shadow, and she flew down the steps. After reaching the third landing, she slowed and listened. Nothing. No sound behind her.
Her breath was coming in fast, hard gusts. Her heart pounded. Her legs felt weak. She would have sworn the figure had meant her harm, had meant to sweep her off the parapet. Her legs felt weak. She stood. Still listening.
Then she went down the stairs. She would find a servant downstairs and ask him to go up with her.
There was no one on the second floor where her rooms and Reginald’s were. She decided to try his door.
She knocked. Louisa opened it.
“Reginald,” Janet said. “Is he here?”
“No,” Louisa said. Her eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong? You look pale.”
Janet had no wish to explain herself to Louisa. She just shook her head and closed the door and continued down to the main hall. There she found MacKnight, who’d been her husband’s man. She didn’t know his first name, had never heard it.
“Will you look up on the battlement?” she asked.
He looked at her curiously, but bobbed his head, “Aye, my lady.” He took a torch from one of the wall sconces and led the way up. She followed him up the steep, stone steps.
She wasn’t surprised to find it empty. She took MacKnight’s torch and looked around the battlement. There was no sign anyone had been there.
Her foot hit a pebble and it went skidding across the stone.
“My lady?”
She felt cold. And alone.
“Thank you,” she said.
She led the way back to her chamber, then gave him the torch. An oil lamp lit her own chamber.
“Would ye be wantin‘ more wood?” MacKnight asked.
She realized then she was shivering. She looked inside her room. Colin was still asleep, a thumb in his mouth. The logs in the fireplace were blazing. Several more logs lay alongside.
“No,” she said, “I am fine.”
“If ye be needing anything ...”
“I’ll call you,” she said with a small smile.
Uncertain, he stood there for a moment, then bobbed his head and backed out of the door.
Janet went to her son. He had kicked off the bedclothes. She covered him, leaned down and kissed him. It would be hard not to hover over him forever.
She looked down at her hands. They felt ice-cold.
Then she went to the window and looked out.
Quiet
. Everything was quiet. The few servants were abed. No strangers were outside lurking.
Had she been mistaken upstairs? And if not, who had been up there?
Chapter Four
Janet confronted Reginald. He’d arrived home sometime in the morning and was coming out of his room.
“I want to see the household books,” she said.
He gave her what she was sure was meant as a reassuring smile. “Now Janet, you do not want to bother yourself with that. I will take care of everything.”
“That is very kind of you,” she said, holding her temper. “But Lochaene belongs to my son, and I feel responsible. I believe I should know what is happening.”
“Tis a mon’s business,” Reginald said. “The servants and tenants would no‘ pay mind to a lass.”
“Mayhap,” she said, “but that is not your concern. Our debts are not being paid, the horses are not being fed. I want to know what rents are being paid and what are owed.”
Reginald’s face turned the shade of a ripe apple. “You are a woman,” he said.
“I have not been under the illusion of being anything else over the past twenty-seven years,” she retorted. “But my son is an earl, and I am Countess Lochaene.”
“My brother died before his time, before”he added with emphasis“he made a will.”
“The estate is entailed,” she said calmly, though her stomach was roiling.
“But a guardian could be appointed,” he said. “A
competent
guardian.”
She felt as if he had hit her in the stomach. She wondered whether that
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