The Highlander And The Governess. Michelle Willingham
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if she stood on tiptoe. For that matter, he appeared strong enough to lift the horse in front of him. The laird’s legs were powerful, his thighs thick as if he were ready to ride out with a conquering barbarian horde. And heaven help her, she could only wonder what it would be like to embrace such a man.
You are his governess, she reminded herself sternly. Stop staring.
Frances swallowed hard and gathered her composure. ‘Good morning, Locharr.’
He gave her a nod in greeting. ‘You’re awake early.’
‘You said dawn. And here I am.’
He had a slight expression of irritation. Oh, she knew full well that he’d wanted to ride alone, for he’d said so. But she wanted to accompany him, both to get a sense of the land and to gauge him.
The groom brought out an older mare for her, and she supposed that was a logical decision, given that he knew nothing of her riding expertise. The poor mare looked as if she would rather be grazing than cantering through a field. But perhaps there was some spark to her, beneath the surface. Frances greeted the horse, giving the animal the chance to learn her scent. ‘There’s a sweet girl.’
‘Pip is a gentle one,’ the laird said. ‘You’ve naught to be afraid of.’
‘I’m not afraid of horses,’ Frances answered. ‘But I would be glad if you could help me up.’
The laird caught her waist, but instead of lifting her up, he held her a moment. His hands were so large, they nearly spanned her waist. She was acutely conscious of his touch, and God help her, it was nearly an embrace.
‘Could you—? That is—’ Her nerves were prickled and, oh, dear, he knew what he was doing. There was a slight smirk at his mouth, and she felt utterly bewildered on what to do now. Should she step backwards? Push his hands back? But then again, she had asked for his help.
Before she could speak, the laird picked her up and plunked her on the side saddle. ‘Er…thank you,’ she said. Frances adjusted her skirts and her cloak as a distraction before she took the reins. Though she understood that he was trying to intimidate her, she refused to acknowledge it. He wanted her to leave Scotland, and she could not do anything to threaten her place here. And so, she pretended that he’d done nothing at all.
‘We will need a chaperon. Shall I ask Alban or Elspeth to join us?’ she suggested.
‘It’s no’ necessary,’ he said. ‘It’s an open field, and everyone can see us.’
She wasn’t so certain if that was a wise idea. True, there were likely a dozen servants watching from the windows, but he also needed to adhere to convention. ‘What about the groom?’
He didn’t answer, but instead mounted his bay stallion and took the lead. Well, then. She would have to speak with him about the etiquette of not leaving the lady behind.
He didn’t want you to come with him, her brain pointed out. True enough. But she was so accustomed to life as a lady instead of a governess. It was hard to remember sometimes that she was naught but a servant.
But better to be a servant than to live with her mother. Frances couldn’t bear to endure Prudence’s constant reproach for the sins of the past. Her stomach twisted, but she forced back the hard memories. That part of her life was in the past and it would only bring back raw grief if she allowed herself to remember it.
She urged her mare into a trot as they followed a path towards the open meadow. Then the laird nudged his horse into a canter, glancing behind to see if she would follow. Frances had the feeling that this was a test of some kind to determine her mettle. She followed at a reasonable pace—nothing too difficult for the mare, though Locharr was leaving her behind.
Instead, she chose to enjoy the brisk air. It was cool and misty, with a breath of rain lingering in the air. In the distance, the loch gleamed silver, and she spoke words of encouragement to Pip. The mare eventually perked up and managed a canter. She closed her eyes, enjoying the morning chill and the joy of being on horseback.
The laird drew his stallion into a gallop, leaving them behind. MacKinloch was a man of fierce independence, she decided. And not one who liked being told what to do. He hadn’t really wanted her to come along, though she’d invited herself.
His strong will didn’t bode well for their first tutoring session. If he allowed her to teach him, that is. Would he trust her knowledge and recognise that her intent was not to order him around but instead, to instruct him? Or perhaps it might be better to take a different approach to teaching him. The laird struck her as an intelligent man with a competitive spirit. She frowned, turning the problem over in her mind.
When the laird rode back towards her, he remarked, ‘Were you too afraid to ride fast, Miss Goodson? Pip wouldna harm you.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t afraid at all.’ She thought up a quick excuse and said, ‘But riding side saddle in this gown makes it impossible to ride fast. I decided to simply enjoy the day without the speed.’ She patted Pip’s back in silent reassurance to the mare.
‘Why not try it astride?’ he suggested. ‘You’d be less likely to fall off.’
Frances shook her head. ‘While that may be practical for a man wearing trousers, it is not possible for me. Not wearing this.’ At least, not without showing her legs to the servants, and that simply would not do.
‘Besides, if you intend to go riding with Lady Regina, she will take a slower pace.’ She nudged the mare into a trot, following the rise and fall of the animal. ‘And…um…you may want to be careful about leaving a lady behind. It’s more dangerous in London.’ She was trying to be tactful without being overly critical.
But her words did get his attention. His expression tightened into a shield, as if he felt embarrassed by his actions. ‘My apologies. I wasna thinking of your safety.’ The gruff response held a hint of remorse.
Frances wanted to lighten his dark mood, for it wasn’t the greatest of catastrophes. ‘It’s all right, really. Nothing happened. I merely wanted to point out that it would not be wise to abandon a lady, should you be riding in Rotten Row or somewhere in town.’
He gave a single nod. When he said nothing else, Frances blurted out, ‘Before we go back, would you give me a tour of the grounds?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen a castle of this size before, and while it’s not raining, I should like to see it.’
He hesitated as if he had no wish to do so.
‘Please?’ she asked. ‘Your home is beautiful. Especially the stained-glass windows.’
He let out a sigh and finally agreed. ‘We’ll leave the horses and walk. There’s no’ much to see out in the glen.’
When they reached the stables, he helped her down, and Frances pushed back the thrill of his hands upon her waist. She had an unfortunate weakness for strong men, and it was rather nice to be lifted from a horse as if she weighed no more than a spoon. Immediately, she reminded her wayward brain that the last thing she needed was to be attracted to the laird. He was her employer and was already engaged to another woman. But she could not deny that the wildness of his appearance had caught her eye. She could easily imagine being carried away, as if he were a conquering warlord.
Enough of this foolishness, she chided herself. But there was no denying that he made her nervous. And when she got nervous, she tended to talk too much.
The laird started to walk ahead, and she hurried to keep up. If he did that to Lady Regina, it could be a problem. Frances cleared her throat and called out, ‘Locharr, a moment, please?’
He turned back, uncertain of what she wanted. His expression revealed impatience, of a man who had no intention of being tutored by her. Still, she wanted to help him. With a smile, she put her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘I know I am only a governess, but for today, could we pretend that I am a lady? To practise.’
‘You