How many weeks had gone by since Kristen had come to Scotgrow? Too many she thought as she watched the meadow, waiting on Hagan.
Hagan galloped across the rolling meadow on his brown pony. He was accompanied by a groom, but Kristen had looked for Trevor, anyway, hoping he would come with Hagan. She moved down the back porch steps and across the yard.
The minute the child saw her, he slipped agilely from the pony and ran toward her. He threw himself in her arms and squeezed her tight.
"Look at ye." Kristen laughed and swung him around. "Ye've grown at least an inch in the last month," she said as she placed him back on the ground.
"A half inch." He grinned devilishly. "Trevor measures me every week and makes a mark on the side of the barn if I've grown any," Hagan explained. Then, completely out of the blue, he asked, "Why haven't you come to visit?"
Tears welled in Kristen's eyes, but she blinked them away. "I thought it better if I stayed here. I dinna think Trevor wants me at Chatsworth," she said huskily.
"Why do you say that?" Hagan frowned at her. "Has he said not to come?"
In so many words, Kristen thought. She shook her head. How could she explain so a small boy could understand? She swallowed.
"Come with me," she said, taking his hand. The child sounded too much like a grownup. "We'll have cookies and milk in the gazebo." She decided it would be better to get his mind off Trevor, and better for herself as well.
"I like cookies."
Kristen smiled down at him. "I remember."
Once they were settled in the gazebo, Kristen said, "Tell me what ye've been doing? And dinna leave anything out."
"Well." Hagan grinned as if he had a big secret that he was dying to tell. "I've been helping Trevor train a colt," Hagan blurted out. "He's real pretty."
"What does he look like?"
Hagan stuffed a cookie in his mouth. "He-he's-"
"Dinna talk with ye mouth full," she scolded and handed him a glass of milk.
"He is black with four white feet and a white streak running down his nose," Hagan said proudly, not bothering to wipe the milk mustache from his lip.
"He does sounds pretty." Kristen reached over and wiped his mouth with a cloth. "Have ye named him?"
"Trevor let me name him," Hagan said proudly. "Said he will be all mine, but he's still too young to ride 'ccording to Trevor."
"So what did you name him?" Kristen prodded.
Hagan grinned. "Flash."
She watched Hagan's eyes brighten with pleasure. "'Tis an odd name," Kristen said.
"The white down his nose reminds me of lightning, and Trevor suggested Flash 'cause it means quick."
Every time the child mentioned Trevor, Kristen hurt a little more inside, and now she was going to have to ask the question she swore she wouldn't. But she was dying to know. "How is Trevor?"
Hagan rolled his eyes. "He works all the time. I heard one of the maids say he gets up before dawn and goes into his office. Then, in the afternoon, he spends time with me around the barn. I like that. But I think it makes all the workers nervous 'cause Trevor never did anything like that before. But he does now."
"I see." Kristen bit her lip. "Does he ever say anything about me?"
Hagan thought for a moment. "No. Once I was talking about you and he walked away. I think he had something else to do," he said with childlike innocence.
She bet he did.
The revelation hurt, but Kristen struggled not to let it show. So Trevor didn't give a damn about her. It must be bad when he couldn't bear to hear her name. Where had she gone so wrong?
Not wanting to dwell on anything so painful, she made herself clean up the table. It helped to keep busy. "Let's get up and stretch our legs."
They whiled away the rest of the afternoon walking and playing games, but all too soon it was time for Hagan to leave. She hugged him to her, then helped him mount his pony and instructed the groom to take good care of him.
Blinking back the tears, Kristen turned toward the house when Hagan called to her.
"Kristen."
She turned and looked at him.
He rode up on his pony. "I almost forgot something," he said as he dug deep into his pocket and pulled out Constance's necklace. He smiled sheepishly. "I'm supposed to give this to you."
Kristen held out her hand, and Hagan dropped a lovely necklace into her open palm. "Did Trevor send this to me?" she asked, her hopes soaring.
Hagan shook his head. "Grandmere told me before she died that if anything happened to her she wanted me to give you this necklace. She said you would need it and--" Hagan looked up to the sky and drew a deep breath as he tried to remember "--and she hoped you would treasure it as much as she always did."
Kristen recalled the time when Constance had tried to give the necklace to her. She could picture Constance's pale face . . .
"I want you to have something." Constance had reached over and opened the drawer next to the bed. She pulled out a black velvet pouch and handed it to Kristen.
"What's this?"
"Something that is very dear to me."
Kristen had opened the pouch and shaken the contents in her hand. The necklace she had stolen for Constance lay glittering up at her.
"I canna accept--this is yours."
"It will do me no good where I am going and I want you to have the necklace and think of me when you wear it."
"I canna acccept something so nice."
"Hear me," Constance sighed, her breathing labored. "My time is growing short. You must get Trevor to open up if you ever want to keep him."
"I've tried."
"Try harder. Remember, everyone he has ever given his love to has let him down. After a while, he just grew cold inside."
Kristen gave a choked, desperate laugh. "But I dinna know what tae do."
Constance had reached up and pointed to Kristen's chest. "Look deep inside yourself, and you'll find out what to do . . ."
Shaking herself from her reverie, Kristen smiled. Constance hadn't taken no for an answer. Even in death she still got her way. Kristen folded the necklace in her hand. She would treasure the gift, but how would she ever convince Trevor that she hadn't stolen the jewelry? It would be the first thing he would think. But, she would be damned if she'd take the necklace back to him.
She dared hoped he would notice it missing. Just maybe he would get angry, and then he'd have to come and see her. If only to take it back.
Kristen sat on the top porch step, her chin propped upon her hands as her elbows rested on her knees, and looked out on the lush green grass of Scotgrow.
Why couldn't she be happy here? She'd always wanted a family. Now she had one, but something was missing, and she knew what that something was. Unfortunately, she lacked the answers on how to fix her problem. Her whole body was engulfed in tides of indifference and despair. She sighed, weary of the arguments in her head.
She had enjoyed seeing Hagan this afternoon. She shut her eyes and recalled the pleasant afternoon.
A breeze blew her long hair across her face, bringing her back to the present and her loneliness.
She had hoped Trevor would come with Hagan. She had not seen Trevor once in two months, and she'd stubbornly not gone to Chatsworth. If the man wanted no part of her, then so be it. Let him grow old and weary without ever again experiencing any fun or love. Let him work himself to death.
She could remember when she had asked him if he knew the meaning of the word 'fun', and of course he hadn't. Hard work was all he knew. It wasn't good for him, and she had thought she'd changed him a little and brought some pleasure to his life. Trevor had seemed to grow more carefree when he was with her, but, according to Hagan now, Trevor was working harder than ever.
This was one situation she had no answers for, and she felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do. Would she ever see him again?
Ian glanced across the porch and spotted the redhead he'd been looking for all morning.
He paused to watch her. She sat on the top step her arms folded around her knees, staring out in the direction of Chatsworth. He'd hoped she had forgotten about the Englishman by now.
Maybe he'd been wrong. He had only wanted to give the girl some time to find herself. Ian had not wanted that bloody Englishman forcing Kristen into something she might not want. Now, thanks to her newfound family wealth, she had the opportunity to make her own choices.
"Bargain," Ian huffed. The Englishman knew that Kristen had had no choice but to marry him. Trevor needed to sweat a little. Let him find out what it was like to have something precious taken away from him.
However, Ian's plan did not appear to be working. Instead of Kristen blossoming into a beautiful woman, she had quickly become withdrawn. And the bloody Englishman had made no attempt to see her. None that Ian knew about.
Perhaps, he'd just have a talk with the girl. He shoved away from the wall. "Are ye not feeling well, lass? I thought with Hagan coming, ye'd be a bit more cheerful," Ian said as he sat down with a groan. "I fear the bones are not what they used tae be."
Kristen looked up at him with those vivid green eyes so much like his own. However, something was missing . . . they lacked a spark . . . they lacked life. She did manage a brief smile that somehow didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm a little tired."
"Tired, is it?" Ian gave her a knowing look. "Are ye not sleeping well?"
"Aye. I sleep fine."
"Then why, pray tell, are ye tired? I'm the one who should be tired, with my ancient, old bones."
"Ye're not that old, Grandfather," Kristen said as she lifted her gaze to study his face. "Sometimes I forget ye are my grandfather, and I think of you as my da."
"Unfortunately, I canna forget, since I have tae live in this body," he joked. "Tell me what's wrong, lass."
Kristen let out a long, audible breath. "I wish I knew."
Ian placed his hand on her arm. "We're family, lass. Ye can tell me anything."
"I know," she said, showing the tortured dullness she was surely feeling. "I--I thought Trevor would have come tae see me by now."
"That bloody Englishmon." Ian's voice rose. He forgot he was trying to be understanding. "Ye can do better, by far, for yerself."
"But I love him," Kristen stated simply.
Now it was Ian's turn to sigh. "I was afraid of that. Are ye sure, lass?"
Kristen nodded, and the tears she had tried not to shed crept slowly down her cheeks.
Ian slipped his arm around Kristen and pulled her close. "'Tisn't easy tae love a Claremont," he confessed.
Kristen nodded her head in agreement, then mumbled, "How would ye know?"
"'Cause I've loved one myself," Ian admitted as he looked down at Kristen's small hands. Something gold tangled between her fingers caught his attention. "What's that in yer hand, lass?"
Kristen opened her hand, and Ian recognized the necklace.
"Hagan brought this to me today. It once belonged to Trevor's grandmother. She told Hagan before she died that she would like for me to have it, but I fear Trevor will think I have stolen it."
"I've not seen that necklace in some fifty years," Ian said in a hushed voice as he reached for it. An emerald the size of a walnut hung at the end of a gold rope and caught the afternoon light.
He turned it over and examined every detail. The pain that had haunted him for so many years, came rushing back. Memories of what could have been flooded his mind. He pictured Constance's beautiful face and glowing eyes when she told him the emerald would always remind her of his eyes.
"When did ye see this necklace?" Kristen asked.
"Around Constance's neck," Ian replied. "I gave it to her the first time I told her that I loved her. And she said the emerald would always remind her of my eyes." That had been many years ago, Ian thought and still the pain felt fresh.
"I've probably done ye a grave injustice, lass. I asked Trevor tae keep away tae give ye some time tae yerself. Made him promise."
Kristen's brow lifted in surprise. "I'll wager he readily agreed tae get rid of me."
"Nay."
"He didn't?" she asked in surprise. Then she realized that her grandfather had really interfered with her life. Maybe she would have gone home with Trevor after she'd gotten out of prison. Maybe things would have been different.
"Why did ye do such a thing?" Kristen asked with a vague hint of disapproval. She watched his expressive face as it grew somber.
"I knew ye had little choice tae marrying the mon, and I simply wanted tae give ye a chance tae change yer mind."
She sighed, held her hands together, and stared at them. "I dinna want tae change my mind. I love the mon."
"Aye, I can see that now," Ian admitted. "Does he know?"
"Nay." She shook her head.
"Why have ye not told him?"
"Because he doesn't love me."
"And are ye sure of that, lass?"
Kristen glanced at him. "He has never told me that he does."
Ian snorted. The lass was as stubborn as he. He clasped his hands around a knee and looked at her. "Doesn't mean a thing. He has showed you in many ways."
"I canna believe ye are taking up for him."
"Me, neither." Ian chuckled.
"Why do ye not like Trevor?"
"Goes way back, lass."
"Then, tell me. I think I deserve to understand." Kristen watched her grandfather as he drew in his breath.
"Many years ago--" Ian began as he stared out over the lawn, his eyes focusing not on the grounds, but something long ago. "--I fell in love with a beautiful young girl. Her name was Constance."
Kristen gasped. She stared at him sharply, but he didn't seem to hear her, for he was lost in his thoughts. Kristen could sense his dazed state, and she didn't want him to stop now that he'd started. She had to hear the story.
"And she loved me," Ian continued. "But she had been promised to Claremont, and there was nothing she could do to sway her parents to break the marriage agreement."
"Did they know about ye?" Kristen asked softly.
"Nay. Constance tried to convince me to talk to them, but I was too stubborn. Wouldn't have done any good with me being a bloody Scot. I wasn't a laird at that time, so I had verra little tae offer a wife except my love."
"So what happened?"
"She married Claremont. And I married Maggie."
That was the first time Kristen had ever heard her grandmother's name. "Did ye love Grandmother?"
"Aye, but not in the same way. Maggie died at childbirth. We only had a year together.
"Over the years Claremont and I became friends and business partners. I had a two-fold purpose, ye see, business and being close to Constance. I could see her from time to time.
"Ye might not believe me, but every time I looked at that woman, I saw love in her eyes. Over the years, it never died. Once in a while, she'd hold my hand or glance at me across the room, and my heart would race out of control.
"We never did anything about our love," he said thickly. "Not until--"
Ian stopped abruptly. Kristen perceived he was having to collect himself before he went on. She felt his pain, and she could only imagine how he'd suffered over the years. Much like she was suffering herself.
"--Until Constance's son died. She was devastated, and I tried to comfort and console her." Ian's voice caught, and Kristen could see that his eyes had grown as misty as her own.
"That's when it happened." He ran a hand through his grey hair, then leaned over to place both arms on his legs. "All those years we had denied our love finally burst loose, and I dinna think I need tae tell ye what happened. But 'twas love, lass, pure and simple. 'Twas nothing sordid. Just two people giving comfort and solace. I can tell ye, I worshiped the ground that woman walked on."
"I can see that." Kristen squeezed his hand. "So what happened?"
"For awhile we went on as before, but 'twas difficult. Then I found out that Claremont was keeping a paramour in London, and I confronted him."
"So that's what ye were arguing about when he died."
"Aye. 'Twas not my place, but I told him he couldn't do that tae Constance. I would not stand for it."
"What did he say?"
"The bloody bastard told me he would do as he pleased. Said he never loved Constance, and it was his right tae have another woman. Rage took over my body, and I told him he didn't deserve Constance. I told him I loved her, and I intended tae make her my own, by God!" Ian said forcefully.
"And?"
"He swore he would kill me first. He might not love her, but he'd never give her up. We struggled. And that's when Claremont dropped dead at my feet."
"I dinna understand." Kristen shook her head. "With Claremont gone, ye never married Constance."
"Fate has a cruel way with one," Ian whispered in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off. "Constance blamed me for killing her husband, and she never spoke tae me after the funeral."
"Dinna ye tell her what he'd told ye?"
"Nay. She dinna need tae know such. I just told her that I'd told him about our love, and she thought that's what pushed Claremont over the edge."
"Are ye sure she blamed ye? She could have blamed herself."
Her grandfather looked at her sharply. "What do ye mean?"
"I got tae know Constance before she died. She was not a happy woman. Bitter is how I'd describe her. Now I know why. I think she blamed herself for her husband's death. She probably felt guilty that she'd never loved him and had always loved ye, and since ye didn't tell her the real truth, she never knew what her husband was really like."
"Never thought of that, lass, but no matter 'tis too late for us."
Kristen reached over and hugged her grandfather. "I'm sorry. But ye shouldn't hold what happened in the past against Trevor. He had nothing tae do with it. Your quarrel was with his grandfather."
"I always felt I might have a chance after the death, but then Trevor came tae live with Constance, and she poured all her love into him."
"But Trevor was a child."
"Aye, a Claremont child."
"Just listen at how ridiculous ye sound. Ye always possessed something Claremont could never have, and that was Constance's love. The hating and the anger must end now."
Ian opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He sighed, then smiled sadly. "'Tis a fool I've been over the years. Ye must learn from my mistakes, lass. Go after what you want in life and hold onto it as hard as you can, so ye don't lose it."
"What do ye suggest I do? Trevor wants nothing to do with me."
Ian smiled down at her, his emerald eyes bright again. "We'll think of something . . .
"'Cause a Johnstone can outsmart a Claremont any day."