Page 50 of Lyon of Scotland
“Consider me a friend for certain. I know you have been through quite a lot.” He looked around, searching for Dare. “I just want to see him happy, and both of you healthy and happy, aye?” He winked, smiled.
She smiled too. “I wish you the same. May I ask—are you married?” Any woman would be blessed, she thought, to be with Arthur, Lord Linhope.
“No. There was a lass, but she married another.” He shrugged. “Ah. Here comes our lad.”
Then Hannah saw tall, dark-haired, kilted Strathburn moving through pools of shadow and light as he strode along the quay toward them. Linhope picked up the valises at their feet and they walked to meet him.
“The hackney is waiting over there.” As Dare spoke, he relieved Linhope of her satchel with one hand and then broughther under his arm. That gesture, and his warm, crooked smile were full of love and promise.
As the carriagetook them along one recognizable street after the other beneath the city’s new gas lampposts, Dare began to relax. He had not realized how wary he had felt since departing London, too aware that Frederic Dove was capable of following them. He suspected the fellow was far too controlling to be satisfied with waiting for payment—which Dare did not intend to deliver—and too spiteful to trust that they would go to Scotland and stay. Now, home at last, Dare tried to let some of that go.
The creak of wheels and thudding hooves over Edinburgh’s cobblestone streets, the peal of church bells marking the late hour, the smell of smoke and cooking fires and some less pleasant odors—all of it enveloped, supported, spoke of home, and held no threat.
But he would not discount Frederic Dove’s animosity toward the two Scots he thought were still in his grasp. Dare had to be sure that Hannah was free of that menace. Still, just for tonight, he needed to set that aside.
Beside him in the dark, Hannah remained silent and watchful as their vehicle climbed the steep streets. Minutes ago, they had bid Linhope farewell outside his kinsman’s house in the Canongate. Now the carriage rolled through the grid of streets in Edinburgh’s New Town toward home—both their homes.
Linhope planned to depart for the Highlands in the morning and promised to meet with MacGregor of Glenbrae, a close friend from university days, to acquire more of their excellent whisky to refresh the cargo intended for the king. Dare would arrange to meet with the Lord Provost to explain why the whisky needed to be held in Scotland briefly and then shipped again. He intended to personally accompany the cargo south to ensure thatthe Scottish government’s gift reached the king safely, clear of any threat.
The business of the whisky transport and the risk of a smuggling accusation did not trouble him nearly as much as he was sure Frederic Dove hoped. What bothered Dare most was the unpredictable depth of the long-held resentment that drove Dove to threaten Hannah in particular.
She touched his hand. “Can we stop at my family’s home first?”
“Aye,” he confirmed. “Close now.”
Each turn of the wheels took him, and his bride, ever closer to their future. The thought made him catch his breath. Both of them had plunged into this marriage with scant time to consider the adjustments needed. It was unlike him to go forward without a plan. The rest of his life was careening rapidly into new, unexplored territory in his routine, his life, his heart.
Hannah smiled, and he pressed her hand. “Tired?”
“Aye, but so glad to be home. Look—the corner of Heriot. My house is but three doors up from there.”
He nodded. “Your things should arrive in Leith next week. Your cousin promised to arrange it, and I made sure the fees were covered.” He hesitated. “Would you like the boxes brought to your father’s house, or mine?”
A thread of trepidation flickered in her eyes. “Yours.”
There had been little discussion of that, just nods and glances. “Aye, then.”
When the carriage halted before the Gordon house, Dare handed Hannah down to the street. She looked pale and nervous, her gloved hand trembling in his. He followed her to the door, its blue paint bright in the gaslight. In the distance, the bells of St. Giles struck ten o’clock.
“It is late,” she said, and knocked on the door. “I wonder if Pringle is awake. Ah!” The door opened and Pringle, talland white haired in jacket and plaid waistcoat, stood there, a surprised look on his face.
“Miss Gordon!” A thin smile crossed the man’s usually taciturn expression, which Dare remembered well. Then the butler saw him. “And—Lord Strathburn, sir!”
“Good evening, Mr. Pringle,” Hannah said. “How are you and Mrs. Pringle? I trust all is well here.” She stepped inside, followed by Dare, as the butler closed the door.
“Miss Hannah, welcome home. And good evening, my lord. All is in good order here. May I take your things? I will have the maid take your luggage up to your chamber, Miss Hannah. We were not expecting you, if I may say. We have only a wee staff at the moment. Just a few of us are here with the students while Sir Archibald is away.”
“I thought that might be so, and I am sorry to arrive without notice. We decided at the last minute to return. Do leave my luggage here, if you please. I am not—staying the night. I wanted to fetch some things and—” She paused, pulling off her gloves, and glanced at Dare. “And let you know about some changes in my plans.”
“Plans, Miss?” He glanced at Dare. “My lord, forgive me. In my surprise, I should have welcomed you more directly. May I offer you some refreshment? Mrs. Pringle is still in the kitchen, I believe, and can make something up quickly.”
“Nothing, thanks, Pringle. I appreciate it.” Dare stood back while Hannah took her time with her gloves, then her bonnet ribbons. He knew she struggled with what to say, though eventually it had to be said. Still, it was hers to tell, and she should take the lead.
Pringle’s expression took on its customary taciturn form. He bowed his head to Dare. “Beg pardon, sir, we were pleased to hear you are now Lord Lyon. Such an honorable position. And we heard you were in London.”
“Thank you. I have been in London, aye.” Dare went silent and he and Pringle waited as Hannah set her bonnet and gloves on a small table and turned.
“Are there many staying in the house now?” she asked Pringle.
