A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,44
the second carriage, where Agnes and Ilsa rode with Ilsa’s maid. He touched his hat as Ilsa smiled at him through the open window. “Welcome to Stormont, ladies.”
“It’s very grand.” Agnes leaned out her window.
“But lovely,” added Ilsa.
Drew nodded. If he hadn’t spent several weeks at Carlyle Castle, he would have been stopped dead in his tracks by the house. It was an impressive sight, and only more so the closer they got. A pair of towers rose on either side of the front, crenelated and square. Wide steps led up to the entrance. The windows were tall arches reminiscent of the Norman Carlyle Castle, but more plentiful and graceful; it should be bright inside. He knew there was a courtyard, and a river ran near the house, but from the front it had the look of a quaint little citadel, proud and secure in its domain.
“When you said palace,” said Kincaid, pulling up beside him, “I thought you meant like Hamilton Palace, just a fine big house. This was once a royal residence, aye?”
“An abbot’s,” admitted Drew.
Kincaid gave him a sideways look. “And now yours.”
Drew shook his head. “Not mine—not yet.”
Still, he pulled up and dismounted a little bit away from the others. His mother and sisters spilled from the carriages, exclaiming and pointing. His friends clustered around the horses, one of whom seemed to have a loose shoe.
He studied the house. Palace. Castle. Either of those words fit. Mine. There was a word that ought not to fit, yet somehow did. A handful of servants were lining up on the steps, headed by a slim fellow with spectacles gleaming in the sun. That would be Mr. Watkins, the estate steward. They were waiting to greet him—as the nearest thing to the owner.
At Carlyle Castle he had been unquestionably a guest. Upon the death of the duke he might take possession, but while the duchess lived, it would always feel like her home. Even if Her Grace removed at once, it would take years and years to remake it in any other style and taste, and cost a considerable fortune. Not that Carlyle Castle gave any feel of home to someone who had lived in far more modest accommodations his entire life; he had come to think of it as his future quarters, significantly more lavish than those at Fort George but similar in purpose.
This house, though . . . He liked everything he could see. He liked that it was in Scotland. It wasn’t his yet, but already he felt more attached to this house than to Carlyle Castle.
“This visit is off to a promising start,” said a voice beside him.
With a start Drew looked down at Ilsa Ramsay, who had left the others and stood watching him. “Is it?”
She grinned. “Not only are your sisters amazed and excited, your mother has declared herself impressed.”
“That is promising,” he agreed.
“And you . . .” She stepped nearer, studying him. “You’re also pleased.”
“Am I?” Lord, he couldn’t resist leaning closer. “How can you tell?”
“The way you stand. The ease of your shoulders.” Her voice dropped and her eyes glowed. “The look on your face, fiercely interested and intrigued.”
His heart was banging against his ribs. “Seen that look before, have you?” he murmured.
She arched her brows. “Perhaps. Have I misunderstood what it means?”
“I doubt it.” If he had looked at the house anything like the way he looked at her, no wonder she thought him pleased. “It means I am taken aback by how very appealing it is. It means I find myself suddenly anticipating this inheritance with immense pleasure, unqualified by any sense of responsibility or obligation.” His horse tossed his head, restless, and Drew calmed him without taking his eyes off Ilsa. “It means I like the look of it from top to bottom.”
A fine flush had come over her face and her lips had parted invitingly. “A good omen,” she said in a husky murmur.
“I hope so.” Damn him for a sinner but all he could think of was that the two of them would be under the same roof for several days . . . dining together . . . sleeping in bedchambers mere feet apart . . .
Let the house be full of private nooks and crannies, he thought. Let there be a vast wine cellar where two people could disappear for an hour. Let her room be next to his—
“Shall we go inside?” demanded Bella, making Drew start.