For several seconds, Rory’s expression remained impassive—and Caitlin feared he was about to be difficult—but then he grimaced and admitted, “Much as I love Caitlin, she’s like a sister to me, and on top of that, I know her far too well.” He raised his glass to her in a mock toast. “A life being managed to within an inch of my sanity didn’t appeal.”
Caitlin smiled. “And being married to a hulking great thing like you never featured in my dreams.”
Rory grinned. “So you might say we were well-matched in our resistance to Da’s plans.” He sobered and sipped, then added, “Unfortunately, Da’s not the sort you can reason with, not after he’s taken an idea into his head and decided that’s the way things ought to be.”
Caitlin sighed. “Patrick just wouldn’t listen. We all tried to point out that trying to force me to marry any of his sons was not going to work. We all argued until we were blue in the face, but it made no difference. Patrick still sees us—all of us—as children to be guided through life. That’s been his role and his duty for decades, and he seems unable to grasp that now we’re grown, he shouldn’t—and indeed, can’t—continue to determine our lives for us.”
She paused, then went on, “Eventually, he started hinting that he would lock me up until I agreed to marry Rory and Rory agreed.”
“Da knew that none of us—me or my brothers—could stomach seeing wee Caitlin held prisoner in her own home for long.” Rory grimaced. “Da was pigheadedly certain of his ability to bend me—and the others, too, if it came to that—to his will. The notion that we would stand against him… No matter what we said, he simply refused to believe that we would.”
“That,” Caitlin said, “was when I started planning to come south. If I can avoid my uncle until my twenty-fifth birthday, when his guardianship ends, then he’ll lose all ability to force me to do anything. From that point on, I’ll be mistress of Benbeoch Manor and entitled to make my own decisions regarding my future and about everything to do with the estate.”
She paused, remembering, then went on, “I wanted to simply disappear, but in such a way that Patrick wouldn’t blame Rory and the others. In the end, I concocted a plan to flee from the estate when I was out riding one afternoon. My groom, Samuel, and maid, Mary, were both essential to my plan. They were also devoted and readily agreed to accompany me.”
“As guards and for propriety, if nothing else.” Rory huffed. “Us lads wouldn’t have let her go alone.”
She dipped her head. “No, and to be perfectly candid, I wasn’t eager to ride off and brave God alone knew what situations by myself.” She met Gregory’s eyes. “I wasn’t fleeing other than out of necessity.”
He nodded. “So where did you go? Did you come directly south?”
“It was early January, so we rode south as fast as we were able. We just missed being snowed in in northern England, but we wanted to make things difficult if Patrick sent someone—like Rory—after us, so as soon as we could, we swung to the east, and from York onward, we made sure to keep off the main roads.”
“You did well, hiding your trail,” Rory said. “It took me forever to follow you down, you’d tacked back and forth so often.”
She smiled. “Eventually, we reached Kettering, but south of there, our luck ran out. A freezing blizzard struck out of nowhere, and we were caught on the road—the one that runs along the Hall’s northern boundary.” She shivered at the memory. “Even used to snow and ice as we were, we thought we were going to die. But Samuel saw a glimmer of light, up high, over the fields, so we slogged and dragged our poor horses in that direction. That beacon we saw was a large lamp Timms—and I understand, Minnie before her—always had lighted and placed in a holder that’s suspended just beneath the ceiling of the cupola. The light beams out in all directions through the cupola’s windows. That beacon brought us to Bellamy Hall.”
Caitlin remembered that night and the massive relief at the warmth, both physical and emotional, with which they’d been greeted. “We were three bedraggled travelers, but Timms and the others here gathered us in.” She met Gregory’s eyes and smiled. “And as you know, the three of us stayed and found a home.”
Rory shifted and scowled at her. “The only reason the lads and I agreed to let you go off like that was…well, we knew you couldn’t stay, but you promised you’d write.”
“I did write.”
“Once! And all you said in that godforsaken letter was that you’d found somewhere safe and comfortable and had decided to stay.” Rory snorted. “And the damned letter was posted from London! We had no idea where you’d got to.”
He glowered at her, and she frowned back. “You knew I would be back once I turned twenty-five.” Puzzled, she continued, “Which brings me to our most pertinent point. Why are you here?”
Rory stared at her belligerently, then sighed and deflated. He drained the last of his whisky, and when Gregory pointed at the empty glass and arched his brows, Rory studied the tumbler, then nodded and held it out. “Aye. A drop more might help with this.”
Gregory took the glass, refilled it and his as well, then returned and handed Rory his tumbler. Gregory resumed his seat, sipped, and waited.
Caitlin, too, waited patiently, knowing Rory would have to assemble his thoughts.
Eventually, his lips tightened, and he looked up and met her gaze. “Initially, Da thought—correctly—that you’d run off, but he decided, possibly because of snippets the lads and I let fall and given you’d taken your maid and groom with you, that you’d gone off to sulk with one of your friends in Edinburgh and would be back soon enough.”
She nodded. “So he waited.” She glanced at Gregory. “We’d hoped he would. He was never one for creating unnecessary fuss among the local gentry, and he especially wouldn’t want talk about me running off spreading about.”
“Especially given you were the heiress he was supposed to be taking care of.” Rory’s lips twisted. “We’d picked that right. The lads and I did our best to keep his mind off you, and once the snows set in, which they did soon after you left, he knew there was no way to chase after you. Then, in spring, your letter—which you’d cleverly addressed to Daniel, the quiet one—arrived, and the lads and I relaxed. As the months went on, Da came to believe—helped, I admit, by comments the other three and I dropped here and there—that you were off somewhere, perfectly safe, and would return in your own good time.”
Rory paused, sipped, then added, “Mind you, I think he expected you to return within a few months. We did our best to see he was kept occupied with the estate, and months slid past, and you’d been gone a year. About that time, he took up insisting that I track you down. I kept putting him off, deflecting his attention, but he grew wise to that and started talking of hiring a private investigating agent to do the job if I wouldn’t. When that didn’t make me jump to his tune, he threatened to call in the police. ‘Heiress goes missing’ and so on. At first, we thought he was just talking, hoping the threat would work, but he grew more and more determined, and eventually, he sat us all down and served up an ultimatum. Either I would come after you, find you, and haul you back—presumably to have him convince you to marry me—or he’d report you as having been kidnapped.”
The big man grimaced. “I think he’d figured out that us not being that worried over you meant that we knew something—at least enough to feel reasonably certain you were safe and well. I think he felt—feels—we betrayed him and, most likely, that in a way, we’d all made a fool of him. He worked himself up into such a state, we really thought that, this time, he was in earnest. That if we called his bluff, he would do it. Declaring you kidnapped would ruin you—when you came back, you’d be damaged goods. He knew the threat to your reputation would make me do his bidding. Nevertheless, the others and I used every excuse we could think of to delay, but”—he lifted his huge shoulders in a resigned shrug—“eventually, I had to start off after you.”
Gregory watched Caitlin’s large cousin send his gaze about the library, taking in the quiet luxury and the understated evidence of wealth.
Bringing his gaze back to Caitlin, Rory studied her shrewdly, then asked, “So you’re really comfortable and happy here?”
Gregory looked at Caitlin in time to see her nod decisively. “Yes. I’ve no wish and no intention of leaving. Not until I need to go north to sort out the estate.” She glanced at Gregory. “I’m twenty-three now, and my birthday’s in September, so I have nearly eighteen months before I will need to head back.”
