pain for a while, but also delivered hallucinogenic dreams to the patient. He hoped that Sean would be given a few hours of relief before the dreams began.
They managed to talk of innocuous subjects: the change of seasons, and the new servants at Adaire Hall.
His father unbent enough to compliment Jennifer on her running of the estate. “The girl has a good head on her shoulders.” Gordon made a mental note to tell Jennifer that she’d earned one of Sean’s rare bits of praise.
If she would talk to him.
Finally, Sean fell asleep. Gordon sat there for a little while, thinking about the years he’d spent in the cottage. When his father died, he’d be an orphan, but he’d felt like that the majority of his life.
He stood and left his sleeping father, closing the bedroom door softly behind him.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked of Moira. She was sitting on a chair in the living room, Betty’s favorite place.
“I’m just fine. You go along now and come again in the morning. I know he’ll want to see you.”
He wasn’t entirely certain that was true, but Gordon thanked her as he left the cottage.
Jennifer approached the gardener’s cottage slowly, hearing the gravel crunch beneath her shoes. It was late. No doubt too late for this confrontation, but she didn’t care. Not one more night would pass without answers.
She’d already waited too long.
The cottage was located some distance away from the main house, but she knew this way so well that she could navigate it even in the dark.
Tonight the full moon cast the area in blue-gray shadow. An owl called to her as if wanting to know why she was out and about. The cry of a fox reminded her of when she was a girl and used to leave food for them, at least until the ghillie found out and gave her a severe lecture. Even today she was tempted to leave some table scraps. Not because the foxes at Adaire Hall were starving. They weren’t. However, she did admire them because they were beautiful and cunning creatures.
There were lights on in the cottage, and shadows visible in the windows. She hoped that Sean was having an easy night, although those had been few and far between lately.
At least Gordon had come back soon enough to say goodbye to his father.
The relationship between the men had always been difficult. As a girl she thought that Sean went out of his way to taunt his son, or to criticize him for things that were unfair and unwarranted. One day when a shovel was left outside to rust, it was Gordon who was punished. He hadn’t been responsible. Instead, it had been one of Sean’s apprentices. It hadn’t mattered to Sean, however. Nor had he apologized for beating his own son.
“My father doesn’t say he’s sorry,” Gordon said one day. “He thinks an apology is a sign of weakness.”
She hadn’t known what to say. That hadn’t been the first sign of Sean’s intolerance toward his son. Nor had it been the last.
Now she stood near the trunk of an oak, watching the cottage and wondering if Gordon was going to spend the night in his old room. Maybe he preferred it to the suite at the Hall.
She leaned against the trunk, folding her arms in front of her. She’d only worn her shawl and the night was proving to be chilly. Was she an idiot to be standing here like this? Probably. She’d never been that wise when it came to Gordon.
In the past five years she’d gone to Edinburgh often. Ellen had insisted on inviting some eligible men to dinner in a not at all subtle hint to Jennifer. Yet no one she met ever fascinated like Gordon had. She didn’t want to know what those men thought or their opinions on various things. Not one of them ever made her dream about kissing them or losing herself in an embrace.
Perhaps she might have been considered almost a spinster, but she was an earl’s daughter and an earl’s sister, with a respectable income of her own, thanks to her father’s planning. Plus, she was Ellen’s goddaughter, and Ellen was not only exceedingly wealthy but quite popular in certain social circles.
She couldn’t help but compare everyone she met, from a very nice industrialist to a cousin of a duke, against Gordon. They weren’t tall enough or witty enough or kind enough. Their voice didn’t have a velvet edge to it. They