The Scottish Bride - Catherine Coulter [25]
It was then that Tysen looked up to see a man on horseback coming toward them. Another neighbor?
But when the man was close enough, Tysen felt himself drawing up. It was Erickson MacPhail, he knew it, not a single doubt. The confidence and arrogance in his very posture indicated a man who took what he wanted and damned the consequences and the wishes of anyone who chanced to cross him. Tysen took Meggie’s hand and they waited, father and daughter standing side by side, until the man dismounted and left his horse to graze on the clusters of knicker weed sticking out of clumps of black rocks.
“I heard the castle had a fine new Englishman in residence,” the man called out, striding toward them, tapping his riding crop against his Hessian boot. Then he noticed Meggie. “I had not heard,” he added slowly, his voice thoughtful now, not so belligerent, “that the Englishman had a daughter.”
“I am Lord Barthwick,” Tysen said, surprised at himself for the show of formality, the touch of arrogance in his own voice. “This is my daughter, Meggie.”
“I am Erickson MacPhail, Laird MacPhail, of Hyson’s Manor. I am pleased to meet you, my lord, and you, little miss.” He bowed to both of them, then straightened and looked out over the water. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding. “This has long been one of my favorite look-outs. So many porpoises. As a boy I swam with them.”
“Really?” Meggie stepped away from her father, stepped toward this unknown man. “You really swam with them? What happened? Did they hold you underwater? Flatten you?”
Erickson MacPhail smiled down at her, and it was a charming smile, open and friendly. “Oh, no. Porpoises are some of God’s friendliest creatures. They welcome you, nudge you to play, stay with you.”
“Oh, Papa,” Meggie said, turning back to her father, her eyes shining, “I should love to do that. May we? To-morrow, perhaps, if it is warm and sunny?”
“The water is always cold,” Erickson said, grinning from her to Tysen. “You cannot stay in for very long or you will turn blue.”
“Ten minutes, Papa? You taught me how to swim. It can’t be colder than the Channel, can it?”
“Possibly,” Tysen said, and felt something quite fresh and spontaneous blossom inside him. “Swimming with porpoises,” he said. “I think I should like that as well.”
“I saw you standing here and supposed you must be the new baron.”
“Yes,” Tysen said easily, eyeing the man who was constantly trying to catch Mary Rose alone and maul her. What sort of a man swam with porpoises, then tried to ravish a young lady? He was well made, fine-looking, he thought objectively. And dishonorable? He would know soon enough. “Meggie, why don’t you go down to the beach and stick your fingers in the water? See how cold it is.”
Meggie, excitement in every skipping step, was off.
“Pay attention to the path,” Erickson MacPhail called after her. “It’s an easy winding downward, but there are some sharp points.”
Meggie waved but didn’t slow. “If she takes a spill,” he said, “she won’t be hurt, just scratched a bit. You are an Englishman. Everyone has heard about it, but I wished to see for myself.”
Tysen was watching Meggie’s descent. He saw her skirt catch on a rock, pull her over, then he heard her laughter, sweet and clear in the evening air.
“I am just a man,” Tysen said finally, looking back at the man who was probably several years younger than he was. Yes, Erickson MacPhail was handsome, also very well dressed. But there was dissatisfaction written around his well-shaped mouth, Tysen saw. Frustration, perhaps. Resentment? But why? “I hail from southern England, near Eastbourne in a small town called Glenclose-on-Rowan.”
“I have been all over England. I found Brighton a lovely place, Eastbourne as well. You are part of the Sherbrooke family. Your eldest brother is the earl of Northcliffe?”
“That’s right.”
“I remember walking over the land where the Battle of Hastings was fought. It was moving, that spot, perhaps even atmospheric, but it is not Scotland. There is no land more beautiful, more filled with glorious memories