While Rory and Caitlin sank into the well-padded chairs, Gregory crossed to the tantalus, positioned against the wall nearby. He paused before it and caught Rory’s eye. “Something to warm you? I have brandy or whisky, if you would prefer it.”
Rory was clearly surprised. “A whisky would be welcome. Thank you.”
Gregory turned to the decanters and smiled. Not a trace of accent remained in Rory’s speech. And as with Caitlin, his instincts were prompting him to treat Rory as an equal.
He returned to the armchairs, handed Rory a tumbler containing a good two fingers of amber liquid, then cradling his own glass, sat in the armchair next to the one Caitlin had chosen, opposite that of their unexpected guest.
He sipped and watched Rory do the same, then grinned at the shock that overtook the man’s until-then-straight face.
Rory held up the glass and squinted at the light reflecting in the golden depths. “This is good Scottish whisky.” He looked at Gregory in surprise. “Meaning, really good—the stuff we rarely let past our borders.”
Gregory chuckled. “Only to family. That’s Glencrae’s latest release. Eighteen years old, double malt.” Snibbs had brought several bottles from London.
Rory took another sip and closed his eyes as he savored. Reverentially, he breathed, “Ambrosia of the gods.” Opening his eyes, he looked questioningly at Gregory. “Family, you say?”
Gregory nodded. “One of my father’s cousins married the earl, and through that connection, the family—the males, at least—became devotees of the brew.”
Rory huffed. “An excellent taste to be able to develop.” He sipped again, and his gaze shifted to Caitlin.
Before either man could speak, Caitlin said, “Before we discuss why Rory has arrived”—she leveled a warning look at her cousin, then shifted her gaze to Gregory—“you need to understand what brought me here. What led to me—and Samuel and Mary—being nearby to be caught out in a blizzard and, thus, to seek shelter here.”
Gregory inclined his head. “I’m all ears.”
Caitlin held his gaze and, wordlessly, tried to convey that what she was about to say was what she’d been planning to tell him that evening. At much the same time, in much the same place. She drew breath and plunged in. “I was born at Benbeoch Manor, outside the village of Dalmellington, in Ayrshire.”
Surprise flared briefly in his eyes, and he inclined his head again. “I know it.”
She frowned. “You do?”
He hesitated, then gestured for her to continue. “We can return to that later.”
Not wanting to lose her rehearsed thread, she nodded and went on, “My father was the laird of the Fergussons of Benbeoch. He inherited the title and the estate from his uncle. The estate was prosperous and grew more so under my father’s stewardship. My parents were blessed with two children, myself and my younger brother. We had the sort of childhood you might expect, and eventually, I was sent to boarding school in Edinburgh. Sadly, however, my brother, who would have inherited the lairdship and the estate both, died of a fever. Even more sadly, not long after that, when I was eighteen, my parents drowned in a boating accident off the Ayrshire coast.”
She refocused on Gregory and saw sympathy and compassion in his gaze. She managed a weak smile. “I inherited the manor and associated estate, while the title of laird of the Fergussons passed to my uncle Patrick—my father’s younger brother. There was also the usual stipulation that my inheritance be held by a guardian until I reached the age of twenty-five.” She paused, looking back on her life at the time. “I was to have been presented in Edinburgh the following year, but of course, I was in mourning. More to the point, I’d been brought up to believe that my future lay in marriage and leaving Benbeoch, so suddenly finding myself responsible for the estate was…an adjustment. Of course, I’d been trained to run the manor household, as most young ladies would have been, but I knew nothing about the estate as a whole, and I’d never thought of it as mine. But Patrick was named my guardian, and he returned from Glasgow and, with my blessing, took up the reins.”
She looked at Rory. “Rory is Patrick’s oldest son. He has three brothers—Hamish, Daniel, and Morgan. Uncle Patrick’s wife, Megan, had died several years before my parents, and when Patrick returned to Benbeoch Manor—which had been his childhood home—he brought his sons with him.”
She smiled fondly at Rory, and he grinned back and nodded his great head, no doubt remembering that time as well. She continued, “We all got on well—my cousins and I. We’d known each other since we were infants, and it was a comfort to have the lads around.”
“Family,” Gregory murmured.
“Yes. Precisely that. Patrick and his brood—noisy, argumentative, and brooding though they often were—filled the empty spaces. For the first few years, we all rolled along quite happily.”
She fell silent, falling prey to her memories, and eventually, Gregory prompted, “But…?”
She refocused on his face and, more seriously, nodded. “Indeed. We grew older—all of us. And Patrick started to get ideas.”
Rory shifted his treelike legs, rearranging his huge feet. “Da is a man who gets things done. He’s determined and accustomed to making things happen in the way he thinks they should.”
“His intentions are always for the best,” she hurriedly added, “at least in his eyes.”
“And that’s the crux of the problem that drove wee Caitlin away.” Rory studied her, then shook his shaggy head. “I still don’t think you could have done anything other than what you did—run away.”
Gregory was frowning. He caught her eye. “What, exactly, was the threat? What caused you to leave your home?”
Well-versed in gentlemen with protective streaks, Caitlin heard the steel that had infused his voice. If she’d had any doubt of where she stood with him—of how he viewed her—that alone would have laid it to rest. The realization distracted her for a moment, then she shook herself and replied, “In a nutshell, Patrick wanted me to marry Rory, thus reuniting the manor and the lairdship and keeping both in the family’s hands.”
The glance Gregory threw Rory was sharp. “And what did you think of your father’s plan?”
