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 are a lady,’ he answered. ‘You said your father was a baron.’
Her cheeks flushed as she tried to push back the unwanted memories. ‘He was, yes. But I am well aware that my station has fallen. I can only make the best of my circumstances.’
Frances straightened her posture and smiled as she walked alongside him, her gloved hand tucked in his arm. ‘I have one day, and I intend to make the most of it. Shall we begin with your first lesson?’
Lachlan wasn’t at all certain he wanted any kind of lesson. He decided that if Miss Goodson grew too overbearing, he would return to the house. After all, she was departing in the morning. But as they walked, he saw her marvelling at Locharr. She appeared enchanted by the stone archway that led to the gardens, and he had to admit, it had been some time since he’d viewed the estate through the eyes of a stranger.
The gravel pathway meandered around the green lawn towards a stone fountain of Venus. Miss Goodson had insisted upon a chaperon during their walk, so he had asked Elspeth to follow at a close distance. He deliberately kept his pace slow, so as not to overexert the elderly maid. Even so, he couldn’t understand why his governess found it necessary to be shadowed at all times.
‘How lovely,’ Miss Goodson breathed when she saw the fountain. Water spilled from the hands of Venus into the small pool, and a small frog swam within the fountain. She walked alongside him, her hand pressed against his arm. The slight touch made him feel conscious of Miss Goodson’s every movement, and it was strange to realise that he was enjoying her company.
Her green eyes shone with fascination and she was delighted with the garden, even though naught was blooming. ‘It will be filled with roses, come the summertime.’
‘There are roses, aye.’ He didn’t know what else to say besides that. Miss Goodson waited a moment, as if she were expecting more.
