Underneath The Mistletoe Collection. Marguerite Kaye
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even sure that I know what’s involved,’ he said cautiously.
‘It’s a forgiving and forgetting, Mhairi says. She says that all debts and grudges are buried with the old laird to give the new one a clean start. She says that though it’s customary to have it the day after the funeral, there is no reason why we cannot hold it on another day and combine it with a welcoming feast. She says that the chair that the laird uses for the ceremony is in the Great Hall. And there is a book in the library. The Customs and Ways of the Family Drummond of Strone Bridge, it’s called.’ Ainsley was looking at him anxiously. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think Mhairi has quite a lot to say all of a sudden. I wonder how she knows so much about it, for she cannot have seen one herself.’
‘She has worked in the castle since she was ten years old. I suppose, these past few years while your father was alone here, he must have confided in her.’
‘I can’t imagine my father confiding in anyone,’ Innes said drily. ‘To be honest, I can’t imagine him forgiving or forgetting either, Rescinding or no. He was not a man who liked to be crossed, and he bore a long grudge.’
‘Were you always at outs with him, even before—before your brother died?’
‘Yes.’
Ainsley was watching him. Innes could feel her eyes on him, even though he was studiously looking down at a letter from his chief surveyor. He wondered what else Mhairi had said. She was as closed as a fist, and always had been. It surprised him that Ainsley had managed to have any sort of conversation with her. He pushed the letter to one side. ‘The old ways were the only ways, as far as my father was concerned,’ he said, ‘and for my brother, too.’
‘Sometimes the old ways can be a comfort.’
‘You mean the Rescinding?’
Ainsley nodded.
‘A—what did you call it—healing of wounds?’ He smiled. ‘There can be no denying the need for that.’
‘So you agree, it’s a good idea?’
‘It sounds like a lot of work.’
‘I will handle that. With Mhairi. I am not too proud to ask for help.’
‘Is that a dig at me?’
Ainsley hesitated only fractionally. ‘Yes.’
Innes sighed. ‘If I speak to Eoin, will it make you happy?’
‘It would be a start. A forgiving and forgetting, that’s what the Rescinding is. Perhaps you could do some of that before the ceremony.’
Innes threw his hands up in surrender. ‘Enough. You’ve made your point. I will even write to your Miss Blair and invite her to attend. Unless you’ve changed your mind. Or perhaps forgotten that conversation entirely?’
‘I was half-cut, not stotious!’ Ainsley said stiffly.
‘Ach, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. At least I did, but don’t take it personally. You make too good a case, and I don’t want to hear it.’ Innes got up from the desk and took her hand. He took her hand, pressing it between his own. ‘Forgive me.’
Her fingers twined round his. ‘It is I who should be begging your forgiveness. Last night, I propositioned you. In fact, I practically threw myself at you,’ Ainsley said, flushing. ‘You must not feel awkward at turning me down.’
‘I have no intentions of turning you down, if you are not retracting your offer. I thought I’d made it clear, from almost the first moment I met you, that I find you very desirable.’
‘You do?’
‘I do.’
‘I don’t want to. Retract, I mean.’
‘Are you sure? Yesterday, you turned to ice while I was kissing you.’
‘It won’t happen again.’
‘I think maybe it will. I think, in fact, we should expect it. I wonder what Madame Hera would advise?’
‘As you pointed out last night, Madame Hera would most likely provide quite unwise advice,’ Ainsley said drily.
‘I offended you. I’m sorry.’
‘No,’ she said, quite unconvincingly, and then she laughed. ‘Yes, you did. I was upset.’
‘If I had known that you and she were one and the same person...’
‘I am glad you did not. It was a difficult lesson, but I hope that I have learned from it. I want Madame Hera to be helpful.’ Ainsley opened the thick leather folder on the desk that contained her correspondence. ‘These women are desperate enough to write to a complete stranger for help. They deserve honesty.’ She replaced the folder and wandered over to her favourite chair by the fire, though she did not sit down. ‘When John died, one of the things I promised myself was always to speak my mind, and that’s what Madame Hera has done. I didn’t realise, though, that my opinions were so coloured.’
‘I think that you’re being very hard on yourself, but if it would help, I’d be happy to provide you with a counterpoint when you’re writing your replies.’
‘Would you?’
‘I think I might even enjoy it.’
‘What if we disagree?’
Innes pulled her round to face him, sliding his arms around her waist. ‘Madame Hera has the final say, naturally.’
‘And as to the—the other thing?’
Innes smiled. ‘Your introduction into the palace of pleasures? I was thinking that it would be best if we started first with some theory.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You have textbooks?’
‘Good lord, no. I meant Madame Hera’s correspondence. We could discuss it. I could explain anything you are not sure of. That way, you will be able to start answering some of your letters, and at the same time, you can accustom yourself to—to—before you have to—if you do. You might decide not to.’ Innes stopped, at a loss for words, wondering if what he was suggesting was idiotic, or even repugnant.
But Ainsley smiled at him. ‘You mean that I become accustomed to what to expect?’ she asked.
‘And you can accustom me to what you want, too.’
‘I don’t know what I want.’
‘Save that I must wear a kilt?’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘I had forgotten that.’
‘Do you dream of a wild Highlander?’
‘No. Yes.’
‘What does he do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Ainsley’s mouth trembled on the brink of a smile. ‘He—he wants me.’
‘You know I already do.’
‘No, I mean he—he really wants me. He— No, it’s silly.’
‘He finds you irresistible,’ Innes said, charmed and aroused. ‘He wants you so much,’ he whispered into her ear, ‘that he carries you off, right in the middle of the day, and has his wicked way with you on the moor. Or would you prefer a cave?’
‘A cave. In the firelight.’
He was hard. Innes cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant this to happen. He edged away from her carefully. ‘You are a very apt pupil,’ he said.
‘Oh. I didn’t realise— Is that what that was, a lesson?’
‘It’s all it was meant to be,’ Innes said, ‘but you are a little too good at this. Another minute and I’d be rushing off to find a kilt.’
‘Oh.’