Wild (Regency Scandal 2), Carole Mortimer [novels for teenagers .TXT] 📗

“What shall we do?” The younger one sounded fearful.

Andrew waited for the answer.

And continued to wait rather than take the opportunity to ride off, just in case they were armed.

After five minutes of that silence, he decided to swing his leg over the pommel of the saddle and slide down onto his booted feet, before striding over to the rocky crag where he was sure his assailants had been hiding.

The only evidence anyone had been there were several footprints visible in the muddy ground. There seemed to be a constant mist of moisture in the air here in the Highlands that often became a deluge and kept the ground in a constant state of dampness. Scotland was known for its constantly changing weather, the majority of it consisting of rain in one form or another.

From what Andrew could see there was one set of small footprints in the muddy ground and another slightly larger one. Both sets of footprints were far too small to belong to fully grown men.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he glanced down the hill, just in time to see two small figures dressed in the local breeks and warm jackets, before they disappeared amongst the outbuildings.

Which led him to wonder if it was possible he had been accosted, with the intent to rob, by two young boys.

“On my goodness, Malcolm, can you believe we just waylaid a perfect stranger rather than Dougal McGregor?” Cat choked as soon as the two of them had taken refuge in one of the barns.

The sheep were kept there during the harsher winter months and before and after lambing. But the worst of the snow had now melted, and the lambs were weaned and set loose with their mothers onto the grassland and heather. The barn had been cleaned since their departure, but nevertheless, there was still a lingering odor of their damp wool and other less pleasant smells.

“We really did!” Malcolm acknowledged gleefully.

The two of them instantly fell into each other’s arms, both giggling wildly.

Anyone seeing the two of them, dressed similarly in thick work shirts and heavy breeks, and with their red hair hidden beneath their Tam o’ Shanters, would mistake them for local children and not the young laird and his aunt, now the lady of the McGregor clan.

Every week, without fail, they dressed this way in order to waylay Dougal McGregor, the factor of the McGregor estate, on his way back from collecting farm supplies and the mail during his weekly visit to Inverness twenty miles away. And every week, also without fail, Dougal would pretend to be terrified of his assailants as he handed over whatever items he had brought back with him.

The large man astride the huge black stallion hadn’t given the impression he would ever be terrified of anything, least of all two small assailants.

He had looked physically perfect, though, Cat allowed. Tall, dark, and very handsome. Perhaps a trifle too austere in his countenance, but his shoulders had been very wide, his waist trim, and his legs long and muscular about the tall stallion he rode. His riding clothes, beneath the long jacket he wore to keep the worst of the rain off himself, were expensively tailored, the high hat upon his head looking to be made from fashionable beaver skin. All signs that the man was not only a gentleman, but a wealthy one.

Posing the question, who could he be so far up into the Highlands?

The nearest house was that of the Munro family ten miles away, and Cat knew it wasn’t any of them or even a relative of theirs either. The only visitors they usually had here were the odd peddler selling saucepans and such, or the knife grinder come to sharpen the household knives. Gypsies camped nearby to help with the sheep shearing, but as the shearing began later in Scotland, the traveling people would not arrive until the beginning of June.

There’d been some trouble of late with animals attacking and killing some of the newly released lambs, possibly a pack of wild dogs from the city in search of food. Douglas and his men had gone hunting for them after each attack, but so far hadn’t managed to find their lair.

“I’m thirsty.”

“And hungry too, no doubt.” Cat removed Malcolm’s hat to run her fingers affectionately through his auburn curls, lighter in color than her own, but just as curly.

“We waited hours for Dougal to arrive home, and then it wasna even him,” Malcolm complained.

Cat chuckled. “I believe it was but ten minutes. But no doubt that seemed overlong to a hungry young man,” she allowed, placing her arm about his slender shoulders as they walked toward the barn door through which they had hurried just a few minutes earlier to avoid being seen by the man on the hillside.

The door was suddenly pushed open, and one of the maids from the house hurried inside. She looked flustered. “Miss Catriona. I mean, my lady.” She bobbed a late and clumsy curtsey. “There’s a gentleman at the house requesting refreshment.”

It shook Cat every time someone addressed her as my lady. That title had belonged to her sister-in-law, Elena, but now that she and Hugh were gone, the people working on the estate seemed to think that as Malcolm, their new laird, was only four years old, that Cat must now be treated with the deference of his lady.

As far as Cat was aware, there was only one gentleman close enough to have made his way to the house before they did. “Then I trust that Mrs. Munro has made him comfortable.” Hugh had never bothered with such things as a formal butler, considering his wife and housekeeper more than capable of handling household matters. Cat had now taken over that role.

The young girl bobbed another curtsey. “Mrs. Munro ’as taken ’is hat and coat and put him in the parlor, my lady, and sent me to find you while Mrs. Murray makes the tea.”

The two ladies who ran the