Page 22 of A Match Made in Heather

“That was a long time ago.” He returned the poker to the rack and dusted off his hands on his trousers. He sat back, resting his forearm across his bent knee, and avoided glancing at Arabel, not wanting to see the regret that surely played across her features. “I’m surprised you haven’t forgotten all about it.”

Matilda shook a bony finger at him. “And you, lad? Have ye forgotten all about yer life here in the highlands ’fore ye turned English?”

He grimaced at that not-so-subtle chastisement. “No, my lady. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Seems to me ye have, so long ye’ve been gone.”

“I didn’t leave the highlands,” he corrected, daring to glance at Arabel, but he couldn’t read the emotions on her face. “The highlands left me.”

Matilda cackled. “The highlands never leave a man’s soul! Dinna ye learn that growing up here? They stay with a man no matter where he goes, who he becomes.” She shook her head. “The boys in Kincardine are born with tartan in their blood.”

“With thistles pricking their toes,” Arabel put in, the soft jab more teasing than biting.

“And heather in their hearts,” he answered in a low drawl.

He heard her soft intake of air and knew she understood his double-meaning.Good.She needed to realize the effect she once had on his life. The effect shestillhad.

“Aye,” Matilda continued. “Your roots are here, lad.”

“On barren rocky soil?” he taunted, softening his blunt words with a faint smile. “You know how hard life is here, even for the best families. You would fault a man for seeking his fortune elsewhere?”

“You’re a highlander.” She leaned forward in her chair, her old eyes blazing. “Make yer fortune elsewhere, if’n you must, but don’t spurn the wealth God gave ye.”

The old woman was mad as a March hare. God had given him nothing here. “I have not, my lady.”

She let out ahumphand turned to Arabel. “And you, lass? Do ye believe him?”

“I don’t know what to believe about Lord Townsend,” Arabel offered with a bit of dissembling.

Garrick was certain she knew her own opinions in everything. Including him.

“You used to know a great deal ’bout him, that summer ’fore he left.”

Arabel stiffened, so slightly as to be unperceivable, but he felt her sudden tension, so aware was he of her. “Lord Townsend worked in the stables that summer when I stayed at Highburn. Of course, we often came into contact.”

“’Came into contact?’” Matilda shook with laughter. “Is that what the young ones these days call the way ye two were so infatuated with each other?”

Arabel turned scarlet in the firelight’s shadows. Garrick couldn’t help the grin that twisted his lips when she scolded, “Auntie, please! You are mistaken.”

She scoffed. “I’m old, lass, not senile!”

Garrick wasn’t so certain as he reclined against the pillow. Whatever Lady Rowland’s intentions for this conversation, the three of them were not going to bed anytime soon. And he didn’t trust her not to scale the curio cabinet to retrieve the pipes.

“I saw the way you looked at each other, speakin’ in whispers and smilin’ like a couple o’ cats who got into the cream. Do you think I dinna know when secrets were bein’ kept in my own household?” She shook a finger at both at them. “Young love’s too young to know it’s not being hid!”

“And old love’s too stubborn not to interfere,” he interjected pointedly.

“Somebody’s got to! Fine mess you’ve made of yer lives so far.”

He arched a brow. “I’m an earl. Some would say that’s quite a fine life.”

“Bah! AnEnglishearl.”

Beside him, Arabel choked back a laugh.

He muttered, “Better than a blacksmith’s son.”

The laughter died on Arabel’s lips.