“Rory?”Caitlin’s shocked voice drew all eyes to her as, with her own eyes huge and her gaze fixed on the newcomer’s face, she rose from the sofa. “What’s happened?”
The man—Rory—looked around the circle of faces, all once more turned his way, then brought his gaze back to Caitlin and, in the thickest Scots burr Gregory had ever heard, announced, “Och, lass. I’ve come to take you home.”
Every gaze swung back to Caitlin.
Eyes narrowing, Caitlin ignored the intrigued looks and kept her gaze locked on Rory. She didn’t dare glance at Gregory, not yet. She’d seen the way Rory was assessing the gathering and suspected she knew why he was there. Reaching for calm, she stated, “If nothing’s happened, there’s no reason for me to leap into a carriage and head north, is there?”
Rory’s attention had wandered, but at that, he looked at her, then frowned.
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she tipped up her chin and declared, “Because unless there’s some urgent need for my presence there, I would much prefer to remain here.” She gestured to those around her. “With myfriends.”
Rory studied her. “Friends, heh?”
She nodded decisively. “Yes,friends.”
He hesitated, then asked, “So you’re happy here?” His accent had largely evaporated.
“Perfectly happy. Thank you for being concerned, but there’s really no need.”
He heaved a huge sigh, then sheepishly grinned at her. “Well, I suppose that’s all right, then.”
Finally, she glanced at Gregory and waved at Rory. “Allow me to present my cousin, Rory Fergusson.” She didn’t bother adding that Rory was a Scot; everyone had heard his performance.
Then she realized why him arriving had been such a shock and whipped her gaze back to him. “How on earth did you find me? It’s been three years.” She’d been so careful; she’d thought she’d been safe.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Easy enough. I tracked Samuel.” Samuel was her personal groom, who had come south with her. “What with that mane of white hair and him caring for your piebald mare, ostlers tend to remember the pair long after they’ve passed. It was like you’d blazed a trail.”
And for a hunter like Rory, following such a trail would have been easy. She felt rather deflated.
Gregory had watched the interplay between Caitlin and the Scottish mountain. He set down his glass on a side table, smoothly got to his feet, and approaching the Scotsman, offered his hand. “Cynster. Gregory Cynster. Welcome to Bellamy Hall.”
Rory eyed him for an instant, then grasped his hand.
Gregory smiled at the pressure the big man exerted, but he had brothers, too, and he’d been ready for it, which made Rory’s lashes flicker, and after releasing Gregory’s hand, Rory regarded Gregory with a touch more respect.
“Own this place, do you?” Curiosity was written all over Rory’s face, along with lingering suspicion.
Still smiling, Gregory nodded. “I do.” And Rory’s arrival looked set to markedly add to the evening’s entertainment, quite aside from revealing considerably more about his mysterious chatelaine.
Caitlin joined them and laid a hand on Rory’s arm. With her other hand, she gestured to the company. “Come and let me introduce you to everyone.”
With an amiable nod, Rory went with her.
Gregory remained where he was, watching her guide the huge man around the circle of eager residents. Like him, they were exceedingly curious about what Rory’s arrival might mean for Caitlin, whom they all valued highly. That point was evident in the way they, in greeting Rory, reflected their protectiveness of her. Smiling to himself, Gregory returned to pick up his glass and finish his brandy.
When Caitlin had completed introducing Rory to the circle of residents, Gregory joined the pair and smoothly suggested, “I daresay your cousin will have much to tell you. Perhaps he, you, and I should retreat to the library, so he can speak freely.”
The look of gratitude Caitlin flashed him confirmed he’d read the situation and her wishes correctly. Reassured, he turned a mildly inquiring look on Rory Fergusson and saw that the mountain had noted Caitlin’s glance as well.
Slowly, Rory’s gaze returned to Gregory’s face, and Rory nodded. “Aye. That might be for the best.”
Gregory gestured toward the door. It was plain, at least to him, that Rory still harbored suspicions regarding Gregory’s interest in Caitlin. As such suspicions were essentially correct, he remained unperturbed. He glanced at the others, arrayed in small groups about the room. “In that case, I believe we’ll bid you all a good night.”
The others smiled back and murmured their goodnights, including Rory in their benedictions.
After responding to the company, Caitlin grasped Rory’s sleeve and led him from the drawing room. Gregory ambled close behind, ultimately stepping around the pair to open the library door and usher them inside.
He waved them to the armchairs grouped before the crackling fire. As he often took refuge in the library of an evening, Cromwell and the footmen made sure the room was prepared and welcoming.
