Part 23 (2/2)
On her ankle.
Loud barking filled the small kitchen as the puppy used claws and teeth to drive them apart, attempting to scale them both, as an adventurer would climb a mountain.
Startled, Ellie took a step out of harm's way just as the puppy all but launched herself into her master's arms-where Ellie herself had been, just seconds ago. For a precious, incredible moment.
”My apologies,” he managed to get out between dodging effusive puppy kisses. ”It would seem Moch-eirigh is a bit jealous. You know how Scottish women can be.”
Ellie shook her head. ”What would I know about Scottish women?”
” 'Elspeth' is as Scottish as Moch-eirigh.” Twisting, he wrangled the puppy out of his hair. ”An Elspeth by any other name-”
”Call me Ellie,” she interrupted before he could mangle Shakespeare further. ”Only my mother calls me Elspeth.”
”As you wish, Ellie. You may call me Cain. Not even my mother calls me Martainn.” He winked, as if waiting for her to catch on to a private joke. When she realized he'd used the puppy's antics to distract her into first-naming each other, she burst out laughing.
”You're shameless.”
”And more.”
The kitchen door burst open and a half dozen scullery maids rushed in. Their wide eyes went from the puppy, to Mr. Macane, to Ellie ... and there they stayed. Probably they'd like an explanation for what an unchaperoned young miss was doing alone with one of the das.h.i.+ng male guests. Undoubtedly they hoped for an indication of why this clandestine rendezvous was in the kitchen. With a dog.
Since she hadn't an explanation for any of it, Ellie simply smiled at the staff, dipped a half curtsey at Cain, and escaped without acknowledging the questioning stares.
When she reached her bedchamber, Ellie crawled back atop the mattress with her stomach full and her mind relentlessly reliving the feel of Cain's mouth rubbing against hers and the sensation of his tongue tasting her lips. She dozed and awoke feeling strangely flushed.
The sound of her mother moving about the adjoining room indicated Ellie had overslept-and was likely in danger of missing the picnic.
She scrambled out of bed and rang for a maid. Last night, the thought of a picnic had seemed deathly boring, but now she couldn't wait. She was eager to see how Cain would comport himself in the light of day. Would he be the consummate rake, flirting shamelessly with the other ladies as if no stolen moments had pa.s.sed between them? Or would things be ... different somehow? Ellie wasn't so silly as to believe a single kiss would convert him from hedonist to lovesick suitor, but she couldn't stifle the sudden wish that her wardrobe wasn't so plain and her jewels nonexistent. A moment's dalliance with Ellie Ramsay was all well and good when otherwise unengaged in the kitchens, but even in her finest gown, she would look a proper dowd when she stood amongst all the other young ladies.
Ellie groaned. Miss Breckenridge would certainly be present and in her rights to demand news of progress regarding her claim. Ellie had been so busy casting sheep's eyes at Mr. Macane, she'd completely forgotten she was meant to be investigating his potential undeadness. There had probably been any number of reflective surfaces in the kitchen, and if she'd had her mind on her pocketbook rather than the taste of his lips, she could've proven the myth false in a trice.
In the meantime, however, Ellie meant to make the most of the weekend. Mama might be content to spend every moment sequestered in her bedchamber, but a ton house party was a rare opportunity for actual fun, and Ellie was d.a.m.ned if she'd let it pa.s.s by unenjoyed.
As soon as she put her hair to rights, Ellie headed straight for the hall ... only to be waylaid by a voice from her mother's shadowy bedchamber.
”Elspeth, where are you going at this unG.o.dly hour?” Mama emerged from her chamber, somehow able to pull off an aura of regal hauteur despite being enshrouded in a flowing caftan.
”It's half two, Mama.” Ellie gestured at the crack of light streaming from the bottom of the still-closed curtains. ”There's to be a picnic and perhaps riding.”
”But you can't go out there!” Her mother's strong hand once again grasped Ellie by the wrist. ”You could get ... sun fatigue.”
”I'll be fine, Mama. I won't forget my parasol.” Ellie tugged her wrist free and strode toward the door, then paused as she recollected an earlier concern. ”Speaking of remembering things ... All the furor over birthdays made me realize I can't precisely recall my own age. I know this sounds ridiculous, but ... How old am I, again?” She laughed lightly to cover her embarra.s.sment.
Mama wandered away, as if just now noticing the small landscapes dotting the walls. ”You'll be two-and-twenty,” she answered distractedly. ”The same as your friend. Don't ask such silly questions.”
Frowning, Ellie watched her mother straighten the already straight frames, then turned and left the chamber before another argument erupted. But as she walked to join the others, Ellie couldn't shake the suspicion that her eternally self-controlled mother had been unaccountably fidgety. It was unsettling to think Mama might have been hiding something, but Ellie couldn't possibly imagine what there could be to lie about. Except for the niggling suspicion that Ellie had already turned two-and-twenty. Last year.
Before Ellie could consider the topic further, Miss Breckenridge spied her approaching and motioned her over to the small crowd. The marble antechamber smelled strongly of soaps and colognes. Lord Lovenip was nowhere in sight.
”I hope you're hungry.” Miss Breckenridge fairly skipped across the entranceway to the front doors. ”Cook has outdone herself!”
The butler flung open the doors. A pa.s.sel of footmen bearing large baskets lined the pathway curving down the hillside. Beaming, Miss Breckenridge stepped across the threshold to lead the way, her guests filing out behind her.
Bringing up the rear, Ellie overheard one gentleman murmur to another, ”Got yours?”
”It's the only method of survival,” his companion replied with an irreverent grin. ”Cheers!”
Laughing and jostling, they removed metal flasks from their waistcoats, clinked them together, then took turns downing healthy swigs.
Spirits of some kind, no doubt, but whatever it was had to be better than warm ratafia. After the events of this morning, Ellie couldn't help but wish they'd offer some to her, too.
In unison, the two men swiveled to face her, flasks in hand. ”Fancy a nip?”
Surprised at their apparent ability to read her mind, Ellie was startled into accepting one of the flasks. Although the gentlemen were watching her more vacantly than expectantly, they were now the only three left dawdling in the house. She might as well take a courtesy sip and have done, so they could catch up with the others.
Having successfully rationalized astoundingly unladylike behavior, Ellie gingerly tipped the flask just enough to taste its contents. Liquid fire scalded her throat and scorched her nostrils. Flask outstretched, she doubled over, coughing. Whatever it was, it was even worse than ratafia.
She hastened from the two gentlemen lest they offer her more spirits, only to freeze on the front steps when the sun's rays. .h.i.t her full on. The conversation with her mother had discomfited her so much that she'd forgotten her parasol after all. She'd been a child the last time she'd strolled in the sun unprotected, and all she could remember of that outing was ending up in bed for a week. But she was older now. Stronger. Besides, if she went back for a parasol, she'd lose the group completely and, like as not, end up arguing with her mother again.
Sighing, she curved a hand over her eyes to s.h.i.+eld them from the blinding glare and hurried across the lawn.
Whether as a result of the sun's heat or the effects of the devil's own whiskey, she was dizzy and thickheaded by the time she rejoined the group. Not only were the guests' individual scents overpowering to Ellie's nose, she fancied she could hear their breaths, even their heartbeats, and was oddly distracted by every glimpse of a bare throat or ungloved wrist. It seemed all the ladies had been hoping for Mr. Macane's accompaniment.
A steadying arm circled about Ellie's waist. Who ... ? Ah. Miss Breckenridge.
”Are you quite all right?” Her client's brow knit, her voice low with concern. ”You don't look at all the thing.”
”All your fault,” Ellie managed uncharitably. ”Can't stop thinking about vamp-”
”Shhh.” Miss Breckenridge spun her away from the others. ”Your breath smells like spirits.” She clapped a hand to her forehead as if she, too, had a devil of a headache. ”Never say my brothers offered you drinks from their flasks.”
Ellie blinked slowly. ”Those were your brothers?'
”Of course those audacious pups are my brothers-hence their humiliating stories today at breakfast. Oh! Of course. You didn't come down.” Miss Breckenridge tsked. ”You should know better than to imbibe spirits on an empty stomach, Miss Ramsay, and you oughtn't sample anything my brothers offer, no matter how full your stomach. Why don't you return to your chamber and lie down? Ring Cook for some soup. It's miraculous, I promise.”
”All right,” Ellie mumbled, disappointed to be returning indoors a mere fifteen minutes into the day's adventure but seeing no other recourse. With her head spinning so, she would never manage a long hike in the sun.
”You do look deathly pale.” Miss Breckenridge placed her hand on Ellie's arm. ”I shall have to accompany you.”
”No, no, it's your birthday.” Embarra.s.sment flooded Ellie's cheeks. ”I'll be fine in time for dinner; don't you worry.”
Miss Breckenridge's pursed lips exposed her skepticism, but already her name was being called by various members of the party. ”I'll have my brothers take you. They did this; the least they can do is escort you inside.”
”I'm fine,” Ellie lied, willing her spine to steady. The last thing she wanted was more witnesses to this humiliation. ”Go ahead. Truly.”
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