darkened room. The fire had died to a few glowing embers, highlighting the old-fashioned chair and footstool, the picture of the ninth earl of Maxwell over the mantel, and the floor-to-ceiling shelves of musty leather-bound books. The more modern conveniences, the electric wiring, the heating pipes, the pillow-strewn sofa, and current world map, had blended into the night shadows. The library must have looked exactly this way to a weary Prince Charles in 1745 when he briefly occupied the upstairs bedroom.
For some reason I wanted no part of the room or its memories in the meager half-light of the hearth fire. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t deny it. I was afraid. Kate, with her pursed lips and no-nonsense attitude, was exactly what I needed. That and a hot meal washed down with a glass of authentic, Traquair-brewed ale.
“Have the Maxwells always occupied this house?” I asked as I followed the housekeeper down the stairs.
“As far back as I can remember.” She flipped on the kitchen light and removed a covered plate from the oven. My stomach juices came alive. Tilting her head in that birdlike pose I was beginning to associate with her, she said, “Of course, the family intermarried with other clans. There’s no telling how pure the bloodline really is. The person to ask is Mr. Ian Douglas. He knows more about the history of the borders than anyone I know.”
“I’ll do that,” I said between bites of lamb.
Kate poured out a glass of ale and was about to slice a wedge of cream cake when she hesitated and put it back in the refrigerator. Instead, she reached for an apple and began to peel with an efficient, circular motion. “I’ll have to get used to leaving out the sweets,” she said. “The doctor told me about your condition.” She looked at me curiously. “Have you always had it?”
“Ever since I was a child. It’s not a problem, really,” I assured her. “Don’t deny yourself or anyone else their desserts. I’ll manage.”
She sat down across from me with a cup of tea and changed the subject. “Mr. Douglas stopped by today. I went into the library and found you asleep. He thought it would be best if I didn’t wake you.”
“Thank you, Kate,” I answered, surprised at the extent of my annoyance. “In the future, I’d prefer that you wake me.”
“It’s like that, is it?” Amusement colored her voice.
I could feel the betraying blush stain my cheeks. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I lied. “The fact is, I have some questions I’d like to ask him. If he calls again, be sure to let me know.”
“Why don’t you call him? I’ll ring his number for you.”
Apparently the women’s movement had infiltrated Scotland after all.
Kate reached for the phone.
“Not now,” I said hastily. “It’s late. Tomorrow would be better.” I really did want to ask Ian about the past residents of Traquair House but not in front of Kate. I still wasn’t sure what I thought of this woman or, more importantly, what she thought of me.
We had reached the end of our conversation at the same time I finished my meal. As if on cue, the phone rang. “Traquair,” Kate said into the old-fashioned mouthpiece. “I’ll see if she’s available.” She raised her eyebrows and held out the phone. “It’s Mr. Douglas for you.”
“Thank you, Kate,” I said. “I’ll take it upstairs.”
Forcing myself to walk at a normal pace, I reached the upstairs hallway and picked up the phone. “I’ve got it,” I said, waiting for the click at the other end. When it came, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d never lived with anyone other than family since my undergraduate days in the dormitory. The lack of privacy was affecting my nerves. “Hello, Ian.”
“How are you, Christina?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Did everything go as expected with the solicitor?”
His voice was low and unusually pleasant. It was one of the first things I’d noticed about him after his spectacular looks. “I knew what to expect if that’s what you mean,” I said. “It’s still overwhelming to think of Traquair as mine.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Had I imagined it, or was there a trace of mockery in the friendly words? I decided to ignore it. “I understand you’re something of an expert on the history of this area.”
He laughed. “In light of appearing immodest, I must say that whoever told you that is exaggerating.”
“I’d like to know something about the previous owners of Traquair,” I persisted. “Can you