Chapter Seven

Damn, but it felt good to be on a horse again.

Ben shifted in the saddle, relishing the feel of it. He liked its light weight. Cavalry saddles were light, too, though a little larger to accommodate a carbine sling, bedrolls, and saddlebags. The saddles he’d used for the last several years, however, were of the heavy western variety, designed for days of riding, outfitted to carry the paraphernalia necessary on a long trail.

The saddle beneath him was the closest thing to riding bareback and took him back to his young days in Chicago.

Sarah Ann had ridden with him in Texas, and she settled easily in his arms. He could feel her excitement; her little body was wriggling with anticipation.

The horse, Samson, presented little challenge. He had an easy rocking gait and a mild temperament that responded instantly to instructions. For a moment, Ben longed for the horse he’d left in Texas. Lucifer had been well named: sometimes angelic but more often stubborn and rebellious.

The penetrating mist of yesterday was gone; the air, though, was frigid, and the wind whipped his hair. His body protected Sarah Ann’s from the cold, but he felt exhilarated. He didn’t know if it came from being on horseback again, from the cold wind, or from the sight of Lisbeth Hamilton riding next to him.

He’d always considered sidesaddles clumsy and unsafe. But she looked truly lovely perched there in a gray riding coat and hat that highlighted her hazel eyes and made her auburn hair more striking. She was every inch an aristocrat this morning, with no trace of the ruffian hoyden he’d seen before, except perhaps in the stubborn tilt of her chin. In contrast, he felt like a stable hand in his sheepskin coat and cotton shirt and riding trousers, totally out of place.

The low hills were still green though spotted here and there with snow. Small stone cottages, from which smoke snaked up into a royal-blue sky, dotted the landscape, along with neat plots of tilled earth. Sheep and a few cattle grazed placidly, side by side. He smiled, imagining the reaction of Texas cattlemen to the sight of the animals coexisting so easily. Most Texans were violently opposed to sheep, convinced they ruined cattle feed.

“There’s those funny cows with shaggy hair,” Sarah Ann said. From the moment they’d first seen one, she had been fascinated by their unusual looks.

“You should see the cattle in the Highlands.” Lisbeth cast her a quick grin. “They look like yaks.”

“What’s a yak?”

“It’s a large hairy beast that lives in Asia,” Lisbeth said.

“Where’s Asia?”

Ben sighed. “With Sarah Ann, one question always leads to another.”

“I’ve noticed,” Lisbeth said with a smile. “It’s rather nice to have some curiosity around Calholm.”

“Lady Barbara?”

“Only about those items with lace and ribbons,” Lisbeth replied ruefully.

“And Hugh?”

“All he cares about is sheep and—” She stopped suddenly, and shrugged.

“And you?”

Her grin widened, her face becoming vivacious and alive. “Horses and books.”

He knew how she felt about the horses. The books rather surprised him. His surprise must have shown on his face because her chin tilted even more defiantly.

“Perhaps you can suggest some books for Sarah Ann,” he said mildly. Her defiance faded quickly, and he could only guess she’d been reassured by his tone.

“Our library has some wonderful illustrated children’s books,” she said. “I always wished …”

She trailed off, and he wondered why. There was a mystery about her that puzzled him.

“Tell me more about America,” Lisbeth asked, changing the subject. “You said it’s cold, too. And I’ve read of blizzards and snowstorms.”

“True,” Ben replied. “But then there are parts that are warm year round.”

“Truly?” she asked.

“Truly,” he confirmed as solemnly as if he were responding to one of Sarah Ann’s questions.

“Are you laughing at me, Mr. Masters?”

“Ben,” he corrected her. “If I call you Lisbeth, you must call me Ben. And no, I’m not laughing at you.”

She looked at him dubiously, then asked another question. “Which part of America are you from?”

“I was born in New York, but my father moved west to Illinois when I was a boy.”

“But Mr. Alistair said you and Sarah Ann lived in Colorado?”

She wasn’t feigning interest, he’d decided; she genuinely wanted to know—unlike her sister-in-law, who had seemed more interested in flirtation than his answers.

He shrugged. “I moved farther west after the war.”

“And that ended three years ago?”

“Nearly four.”

“And you’ve been a solicitor since then?”

“Among other things.”

He saw the question in her eyes, but he still wasn’t prepared to tell the truth, that he’d been a hunter of men rather than a seeker of justice. He’d asked Silas Martin, the solicitor who had found Sarah Ann, not to tell the family his full history. He was a lawyer; that was all they needed to know.

Ben still didn’t know why he’d taken that precaution. Instinct, maybe, or distrust born of chasing criminals. He’d disguised himself plenty in the past, had fitted in with outlaws, had even established a sort of friendship with one named Diablo. But he’d learned to keep his own counsel, to give as little information as possible, to disarm and deceive. Not particularly attractive traits, but they were his now; he didn’t know how to be otherwise. And Sarah Ann’s future was at stake. He had to remember that.

But Lisbeth wasn’t ready to give up.

“What other things have you done?” she persisted.

He shrugged. “How did you start raising horses?”

She was silent a moment, and out of the corner of his eye he caught her looking at him with a mixture of frustration and puzzlement. Then, with a sigh, she said simply, “I love horses. I always have, and when I came to Calholm, I thought I’d found heaven. Callum has taught me so much.”

“And your husband approved of you riding astride?”

She bit her lip. “I didn’t ride that way until after his … accident.”

Her hesitation told Ben one thing: there was the possibility of murder in the death of Jamie Hamilton. Ben thought of the mishap with the crates. Were the two events somehow connected? Or was the idea too farfetched?

“Look,” Sarah Ann said, bringing him out of his musings. She pointed toward a horse and colt grazing in the fenced paddock of a nearby house. “A pony!” she exclaimed.

“Not exactly,” he said. “That’s a young horse. It’ll grow as big as the horse we’re riding. A pony is always small.”

“When I get big, can I have a big horse?”

“The finest I can find,” he assured her.

Her questions ended abruptly upon their entering the village. They had spent a few hours here, changing from the Edinburgh coach to the hired coach, and she was just as fascinated now as she had been then. All the small villages along the journey entranced her. To her, the neat stone exteriors and big glass windows were like pictures from a fairy-tale book. They charmed him, too, Ben admitted. The air of solid permanence here was so different from the air of flimsiness and newness of the boomtowns in the west.

Lisbeth led the way along a cobbled street to a blacksmith’s shop. She slipped down from her horse and opened the wide barn door. A bell rang and a husky man hurried over from a smoky forge.

He flashed a wide grin. “Lady Lisbeth,” he acknowledged.

“Douglas,” she said. “It’s fine to see you again.”

“And who be these strangers with ye?” The huge man turned toward Ben and Sarah Ann, who flinched a little at the booming voice.

“This is Ian’s daughter,” Lisbeth said. “And her guardian—”

“Ben Masters,” Ben interceded at her discomfort over finding the right introduction.

“Ahhh, Ian Hamilton. He was a wild lad, he was. But she’s a fine-looking lass. And what can I do for ye?”

“A pony,” Sarah Ann said bravely and determinedly.

Lisbeth gave the blacksmith a conspiratorial smile. “I told her Douglas MacEver just might know of one for sale.”

Ben warned himself not to respond to her smile. There was too much he didn’t know about her. He couldn’t afford to lower his guard. Remember another warm smile, a voice in his head admonished. And the betrayal that followed.

He had held women at arm’s length ever since, even Sarah Ann’s mother, although Mary May had started to breach his defenses before she died. But, then, she had wanted nothing from him.

He wasn’t so sure of Lisbeth Hamilton.

“I think I may know of exactly the one,” the blacksmith said, turning to Lisbeth. “Mary Godwin has outgrown her pony. John brought in her new horse to be shod.”

Ben looked at Lisbeth in question.

“They live on the edge of town. He’s the doctor.”

“Can we go now?” Sarah Ann asked.

“I see no reason why not,” Ben said. He turned to the blacksmith. “Do you have a good riding horse for sale?”

It was Lisbeth who answered. “You can use any mount at Calholm.”

“I would prefer my own,” Ben replied. He knew he sounded stiff, but he didn’t want anything from the Hamilton family. He was here because of Sarah Ann, and he wasn’t going to take a thing he hadn’t earned.

Surprise flittered across Lisbeth’s face, and he realized instantly that she had believed, as Hugh Hamilton did, that he was using Sarah Ann to benefit himself.

Ben returned his attention to the blacksmith.

“Aye, I know of a few animals that might suit ye,” MacEver said, eyeing him carefully. “Ye look like ye know horses.”

“A little.” He ignored the eyebrow that Lisbeth raised.

“Ye like a spirited beast?”

“Let’s say a good one,” he said.

“I ’ave two for sale, but neither compare to those at Calholm.”

Ben said, steadily, “I don’t need a jumper.”

“Then ye be welcome to take a look.”

Ben lowered Sarah Ann to the ground and dismounted, then followed the blacksmith into the stone barn. The two horses for sale were adequate. The blacksmith was correct—neither measured up to the horse he was riding or the others at Calholm. But then he didn’t plan to be in Scotland long enough to need a truly fine animal. He chose a steady-eyed bay.

“His name is Bailey,” the blacksmith said, “and he’s a fair horse. Do ye be wanting to take him now?”

Ben shook his head. “I would be grateful if you could send him to Calholm.”

The blacksmith looked at Lisbeth. She nodded, and Ben felt even more of an outsider. Calholm wasn’t his home, would never be his home.

But could it be Sarah Ann’s? And could he ever let her go, even for her own good?

Any pony would have been acceptable. Lisbeth realized that long before Sarah Ann met Peppermint. But Peppermint was as perfect as a pony could be. He was a dandy fellow, white and dignified and well mannered, standing quite still as he was inspected. Love was instant and mutual.

Actually, Peppermint was not Peppermint before introductions. But Sarah Ann immediately renamed the snow-white pony from Prince to the name of her favorite candy. Peppermint apparently approved. The pony nuzzled his new mistress at first sight, and when Ben Masters lifted Sarah Ann onto the pony’s back, Peppermint stepped carefully and proudly around the small fenced paddock.

“The young lass has a way with horses,” Dr. John Godwin said happily.

“She has a way with all animals,” Ben said.

Lisbeth heard the affection in his voice and couldn’t help thinking of her own child. If only the bairn had lived … But she’d lost it before it could take even a first breath.

Lisbeth pushed those memories away and concentrated on Masters and Sarah Ann. While he studied the pony with knowing hands, the girl stood nearby, practically prancing with delight. “Can we take him now?” she pleaded.

“Do you mind?” he asked Lisbeth. “Will your jumpers welcome this little one?”

“They tolerate Henry,” she replied. “I think Peppermint will make a fine stable mate.”

“Then it’s done,” he told the doctor. “Do you have a saddle?”

“Aye,” the doctor said. “My daughter’s. She’s outgrown it, just as she’s outgrown Prince. She’ll be well pleased to know he’s found a good home.”

“The pony will be feasting on carrots and apples all the day if this one has anything to do with it,” Ben said with an affectionate glance at Sarah Ann.

The pony nuzzled his new mistress. “Annabelle will like him, too,” Sarah Ann said.

A rueful look passed over Ben’s face. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sugarplum.”

“You’ll see,” Sarah Ann countered confidently.

“Aye,” he said. “Perhaps we will.”

The Scottish word sounded fine on his tongue, Lisbeth thought. She felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine, then a pang twist in her heart. She wished for a fleeting second that someone—anyone—had been as kind to her as Masters was to Sarah Ann. God’s toothache but this American stranger affected her in strange and unwanted ways. Or were they unwanted?

Masters counted out some pound notes, then turned to her. “May I help you mount?”

She wished she didn’t need his help, but the bloody sidesaddle almost required it. She didn’t want him to touch her, not now, not when she was so confused by her reaction to him. Her worst fears were realized when his hand took her gloved one, and heat radiated between them. His fingers lingered on hers a moment and a flash of surprise crossed his face before he released her.

“Can I ride the pony?” Sarah Ann asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “I think you need a few lessons first.”

“But Pep’mint will be dis’pointed.”

“He’ll just have to suffer through it,” he said.

“But—”

“But you have to get used to each other,” Lisbeth interceded, noting Ben’s suddenly helpless look. There was something vulnerable—and attractive—about such a big man being made to feel helpless by such a small child.

“I already love him,” Sarah Ann protested.

One of Ben’s eyebrows arched upward as if to challenge Lisbeth to answer that one.

“But what about Peppermint?” Lisbeth said carefully. “He’s going to a new home, and he’s probably a wee bit frightened.”

“Like me?” Sarah Ann’s face showed great concern for the pony.

“I know it must have been fearsome, coming to a new country,” Lisbeth continued, “but it wasn’t so bad when you got here, was it? But you didn’t know that. And neither does Peppermint.”

“Poor Pep’mint,” Sarah Ann said, her eyes large with understanding. “I’ll have to love him extra much.”

Lisbeth wanted to clutch Sarah Ann to her breast, hold her tight. She knew the kind of uncertainty Sarah Ann must feel. She knew how hard and how frightening it was to hold it all inside.

Ben gave her a glance of approval, and Lisbeth felt as if someone had handed her a star plucked from the sky.

“And now, I think we best be on our way,” he said.

Dr. Godwin disappeared and returned with a saddle and bridle, both of which he put on the pony. Ben prepared a lead, then lifted Sarah Ann to his own horse and mounted behind her. Sarah Ann leaned over to look adoringly at her new acquisition.

Lisbeth herself had yearned for a pony as a child, for a pet of any kind. For anything to love. She had Henry now. And Shadow and the other horses.

And a child? Perhaps, if Sarah Ann could learn to love her …

And Sarah Ann’s father? What did she want from him? A partnership, certainly. But as for anything more … she simply didn’t know.

Lisbeth did know she didn’t want to be like Barbara, who jumped from bed to bed, allowing herself to be used over and over again. As a widow, Lisbeth had a degree of independence and she was loath to give it up for any man.

If only she weren’t so intrigued by Ben Masters. If only she could stop thinking about their midnight encounter. If only her hand didn’t still burn from his touch.

Barbara watched the drive through the window. What could be taking the American and Lisbeth so long? Surely he wasn’t attracted to Lisbeth. The possibility kept nibbling at her mind.

She felt Hugh’s presence behind her, his anger, and she turned to face him. He didn’t understand that what she was doing was for both of them.

“Still watching for that ruffian,” he said bitterly.

“I simply don’t want Lisbeth to poison him against us.”

“Is that why you’re going to Edinburgh with him?”

She put a hand on his fine linen shirt. “It’s important to both of us that we know what he plans to do.”

“Bloody savage,” Hugh said. “Why couldn’t Ian and his get have stayed lost?”

“Well, they didn’t,” Barbara said. “But if we can prove he’s a charlatan, that she might not be Ian’s child—”

“I checked his room,” Hugh said. “I couldn’t find anything about him.” He was quiet a moment, then added softly, “I did find a gun.”

“A gun?”

“It looks used,” Hugh said. “Well used.”

Barbara looked at him. “I sensed something … dangerous about him.”

“He’s no mere solicitor,” Hugh said. “I would stake my life on it.”

“You stake too much on too little,” she retorted. “That’s why you’ve lost so much.”

“But not everything,” he said suggestively, putting his hand to her breast.

She moaned slightly, instantly aroused. He always did that to her. She had loved him ever since he’d come to Calholm two years ago. He had stirred her blood as no man had before, not even Hamish, and their love had seemed so right, so fitting. But he had nothing if he didn’t inherit Calholm, and she knew both of them couldn’t live off her allowance—nor did she think his pride would allow it. Hugh knew sheep-raising and husbandry, but his reputation as a gambler and rake had made it difficult for him to find a position. His prospects had brightened only with Jamie Hamilton’s death. No one had ever believed Ian could be located after ten years of silence.

Now he was back to where he’d been two years ago—with sizable debts and not a pound to his name, even though he’d managed Calholm’s acres for the past two years, and had done well at it. He had taken pride in enlarging the flock of sheep and improving its quality. He could have done even more if Lisbeth and Alistair had not been so obstructive.

And now an American and a small child would take it away.

Barbara cursed the fates as Hugh held her. She would still try to help him inherit. And if that meant using her charms to seduce the American, then she would do it.

There was a clatter beneath the window, and Barbara moved away from Hugh’s embrace toward the panes of glass. Looking down, she saw Lisbeth and the American, Sarah Ann seated with him on his horse, ride in toward the stables, a pony in tow. Bloody hell. She’d thought to woo the child with clothes; Lisbeth, who thought of nothing but horses, had apparently judged their small guest better than she.

But there was tomorrow, and there was Edinburgh, and she’d always been able to charm babes as well as men. The American and the girl would forget Lisbeth existed. She would make sure of it.

Barbara watched as Lisbeth waited for Masters to dismount and help her down. Lisbeth was smarter than she used to be, Barbara thought with no little malice.

With growing apprehension, she noted that the American held Lisbeth’s hand a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Then, he lifted down the child, who immediately ran to the pony. Lisbeth said a few words to the American, then turned toward the manor.

Masters stayed at the barn with the child, stooping down next to her as Sarah Ann stroked the pony’s neck.

Barbara gave Hugh a quick kiss before whirling toward the mirror to check her hair. She would stop by the kitchen for sugar, then go to welcome the pony.