Free Beguiled by Arnette Lamb

carved wooden rendering of its first chieftain and continuing in chronological progression, Clan Napier was immortalized on the wall. Unusual about the wall was a sampling of textiles, from exquisite medieval tapestries to a more modern panel of woven silk, that mingled with portraits of past earls and countesses of Cathcart.
    Agnes wished her half sister Mary were here. Mary’d make a fuss over William Hogarth’s depiction of Edward’s grandfather, especially the dogs in the painting. She’d also covet the old wooden frames and lament over the poor workmanship of carpenters of today.
    Were her sister Lottie the mistress of this house, she’d make a grand occasion of escorting guests down the gallery. She’d provide an endearing story about each person depicted. Sarah, the more scholarly of Agnes’s sisters, could name the raw materials used to create the paints and site their place and time of origin. Uninterrupted, Sarah would supply an account of the painter’s contribution to his craft, as well as the artist’s impact on his contemporaries.
    Mary would fume at Sarah over the general use of the male pronoun and name a dozen female artists more talented than the one under discussion.
    Fondness filled Agnes; she had been blessed with three good-hearted, honest women for sisters, and they loved each other dearly. Oh, they had and still did prank among themselves, but in the matters that counted, the children of Lachlan MacKenzie were loyal to a fault.
    Thoughts of Mary and the coil she’d made of her affair with the earl of Wiltshire troubled Agnes more each day. Too stubborn to yield and too infatuated to go their separate ways, Mary and her nobleman were destined to make a scandal of their love. But until Mary solicited help, Agnes would not intervene. As matters stood, Agnes was needed here in Glasgow.
    The last of the portraits intrigued her, for it depicted a young Edward Napier. Rather than the traditional painting of the family heir pictured astride a favorite hunter or posing stiffly beside the hearth, the current earl of Cathcart was surrounded by books, a telescope, and dozens of drawings, some spread out and some rolled into tubes. The birdcage in the background was empty, the little door open. An intriguing detail, Agnes thought, but not so intriguing as the man himself.
    He’d aged a decade or more, and time had clearly been his ally, for maturity enhanced his masculinity and added character to his exceptionally handsome appearance. Only the expression in his eyes had not changed. She saw intelligence, confidence, and a gleam she remembered well.
    Agnes recalled the kiss but tried to forget the feelings it had inspired. Romance was not an option for her now. But as soon as she found Virginia and reunited her with her beloved, Cameron Cunningham, Agnes would find a man of her own. For the time being she had a greater purpose, and finding the earl’s study was her immediate concern.
    She heard approaching footsteps. Not looking away from the portrait, she said, “Is there much damage, my lord?”
    He stopped. “How did you know ’twas me?”
    Turning, she pointed to his footwear, but the bruises on the knuckles of his right hand drew her attention. He’d removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. “Your left boot squeaks, and you walk in a casual gait, as if you belong here.”
    She took great joy in his surprise, for it softened his expression. His mouth was slightly parted, just the same as when he’d kissed her.
    In disbelief, he asked, “You listen for and derive information about the sound and the velocity of a man’s footfalls?”
    Embarrassed, she pushed aside her romantic musings. One day soon he’d appreciate her special skills. Better men than the earl of Cathcart had belittled her abilities. All of them had lived to thank her.
    She shrugged. “Aye, ’tis an easy way to detect an