Free Mia Marlowe by Plaid Tidings Page A

ponderous trudge back into the house.
    “I almost do.” Alexander fell into step beside her. “I tried several times yesterday evening to make that horse respond to the bit, but each time I wound up in a breakneck race that ended in an abrupt stop.”
    “Mr. Gow will buy him back from ye.”
    “I wouldn’t give that old charlatan the satisfaction,” Alex said, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets. “No, I mean to ride that horse if it’s the last thing I do.”
    “Let us hope it doesna come to that.”
    “Lord Bonniebroch!” Aunt Hester called back to him. “I’m feeling meself a bit wobbly. Your arm, if you please.”
    “She seems disposed to forget I’m English and a MacGregor for the moment. I’d best take advantage of it,” Alex said softly before he excused himself and trotted ahead to offer a steadying arm to the old woman.
    Lucinda smiled, admiring the fine lines of the man as he walked ahead of her.
    Excellent seat of his trousers, indeed. She made a mental note to consult The Knowledgeable Ladies’ Guide to Eligible Gentlemen again to see if Lord Alexander was mentioned in any other entry besides the alphabetical listing.
    “Ye see what he’s about, dinna ye?” Brodie whispered in her ear. “Dancing attendance on yer auntie like that. He’s milkin’ the cow to get at the calf.”
    “Nonsense,” she whispered since Hester had engaged Alexander in a loud tirade about the English and their overbearing ways. “He’s only being a gentleman, something with which ye’ve little enough experience. Besides, the betrothal is settled. Lord Alexander already has the calf . . . I mean, he has me.”
    “He’d better no’ have ye,” Brodie said darkly.
    “Let me be worryin’ about that. Remember what I said. Ye’re to leave Lord Alexander alone. No appearing in his chamber once we get to Dalkeith. No boiling slugs in his bathwater. No ordering spiders to converge in his boots. In other words, none of your usual tricks.”
    Her threat to never speak to Brodie again simmered in the air around them as they entered beneath the low lintel of her great-aunt’s house. Hester’s cantankerous complaints rattled through the residence as Alex settled her in the parlor, so Lucinda felt free to continue her conversation with the ghost for a moment longer.
    “Och, as ye will then. I’ll leave his precious lairdship alone,” Brodie promised.
    “And whilst we’re on the subject, I want to thank ye for the restraint ye’ve shown in leavin’ me alone over the years when I’ve had the need for privacy, when I dress and bathe and such like.”
    “Weel, o’ course.” If he’d been able to, Brodie would have blushed. “To me, ye’re still the little girl I met in the cellar. And I’m like the uncle ye never had.”
    “You’re like the uncle no one’s ever had. But back to the subject at hand. A girl with her betrothed needs privacy too. I want ye to leave Lord Alexander and me alone should we ever chance to find ourselves, well . . . alone.”
    “Lass, ye dinna ken what men are.”
    “And I never will if ye dinna—”
    “Who are you talking to?” Alexander stood framed in the parlor doorway, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
    She gave what she hoped was a convincing little chuckle. “Myself. I do that from time to time when I’ve a good deal to do. Helps me organize me thoughts.”
    “Well, perhaps you can organize me too. Your aunt wants a tot of rum and I’m not sure where . . .”
    “Ah! That’ll be in the cold larder, back of the kitchen. Follow me.” Lucinda glanced behind her to see that Brodie had heeded her wishes and wasn’t tailing them.
    Instead the ghost circled the iron candelabra in the vestibule so quickly, the fixture glowed as if every wick was lit.

    “I must say, ye’re taking Aunt Hester’s change of plans with exceeding good grace,” Lucinda said as she stretched and stood tiptoe trying to reach the bottle of rum on the top shelf. Alexander