Page 68 of Stealing Sophie
“Did Sir Henry take Kinnoull from your father?” she asked.
“He did so as the local magistrate carrying out the crown’s orders. But it would not surprise me if he manipulated it for himself. The proscribing was done by the crown.”
“And yet the title was not revoked. You are still Viscount Kinnoull by right.”
“The title is attached to the bloodline and has been in our family for two hundred years. The crown did not try to take it. Likely it was thought small and unimportant, and there were more significant rebels to be punished then. So I inherited Lord Kinnoull, but I am landless. Which makes you Lady Kinnoull, and landless with me.” He tipped his head, resting a hand on Fiona’s bony back, where a pair of flies buzzed.
“Lord Kinnoull. It suits you.”
And lady suited her even more, he thought. She had the carriage of a queen, the dignity of an angel. Yet she stood in the mud with him and his cow and did not mind. “We are lord and lady over nothing much, you and I,” he said.
“Over something, Kinnoull.” She waved her hand. “Castle Glendoon has a proud history. The broken stones can be repaired, and so can the yard and the outbuildings. The gardens can be cleared and replanted. And the castle is filled with treasures that you love. You have loyal tenants, healthy livestock, a fine title and heritage. You have a wife.”
“Do I?” he murmured.
“Though you have yet to decide if you want her.”
“Or she, me?” He watched her steadily, knowing he wanted a wife, this wife, and his heartbeat quickened at the thought.
“Despite all,” she said, glancing away, “you have a home, Kinnoull. Here.”
He huffed. “You have a pretty way of putting a shine to gloomy matters, madam. But be careful not to polish away the truth.”
“And what is the truth?”
“I have no home. I am a tenant. And you need not chirp on about what a marvelous place this is for my benefit.” He began walking again.
She hastened in step. “I am trying to be cheerful in the face of your gloominess, sir. Though if a Highland thief had not snatched me away, I would have a more pleasant temperament. I have always had a cheerful constitution.”
“Have you?”
“Aye. And Glendoon is a marvelous place. I do very much like ruins. They are so picturesque and grand, so filled with history. And ghosts,” she added.
He wanted to laugh suddenly. So rarely did he want to throw back his head and truly laugh that it felt strange, and he suppressed it. Glancing at the sky, he saw an odd blend of sunlight and drizzle, clouds and sunbeams.
“Lady Kinnoull, you are both sunshine and storm,” he said, pointing upward. “Turnabout with the winds, my lass. Go inside, do. There will be a downpour any moment. You will ruin your gown.”
“It is already ruined. I need another one until this can be repaired. My mother gave me this gown, but now, dirty as it is, I believe I am the same color as your cow.”
He did laugh, then, and wanted to kiss her. The urge pulsed through him with such power that he nearly pushed aside the cow to take Sophie the would-be nun, whimsical and wanton, with her mud and her glow, into his arms.
He wanted to stand with her in the mud, in rain and sunshine, and cover her with kisses. He wanted to strip the sagging gown away and drape her in silk and pearls and love her. Instead, he only smiled.
“The color suits you both. But you two lassies are most alike in your determination to claim your freedom.”
“I was not trying to escape through the gate, I promise. Not this time.”
He smiled. “Perhaps you will want to stay now that you are a viscountess. Your father would have wanted that for you. Though he might not like the gardening, I think.”
“I would not care if I was a viscountess or a farmer’s wife.” She gave him a little frown. “Though my brother may have thought Kate should be your viscountess.”
“Aye, well,” he said. “There is that.”
A storm chased through her eyes, blue to gray, like a cloud sweeping through. “I will go inside now, Kinnoull. It will rain soon, as you say.”
She turned, lifting her gown, running through the muck.
Connor watched her cross the yard and go through the kitchen doorway. As she disappeared inside, he felt as if a lantern light had gone out.
