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As Christmas neared, the house filled. Beth was kept so busy she didn't have much time to worry about Ian, but the thoughts were there, niggling at her. Hart had assured her he'd have a new bowl for her to give to Ian by Christmas, and Beth was warmly grateful to him and Eleanor for their efforts.
Ainsley's four brothers, the McBrides, arrived en masse, Ainsley crying out like a girl as she flew down the stairs to fling herself first at one, then the next. Steven McBride, the youngest brother, came in his regimentals, able to obtain only a few weeks' leave. He was twenty-nine, handsome, tanned from foreign suns, and instantly the center of the female guests' attentions.
Next came Sinclair, the tallest of them with a booming, deep voice--the barrister, who lived mostly in London. The Scots Machine, Ainsley had said his fellow barristers called him, for his tenacious grilling of witnesses at the Old Bailey. He rarely failed to get his conviction.
He might be a machine in court, but Sinclair was also a harassed father with two children--Andrew and Catriona--who immediately turned the nursery into a circus, complete with tents and tightrope walking. Nanny Westlock's face had been tight since their arrival.
Elliot McBride, a former soldier who had been kept nearly a year in a terrible prison in India, arrived with his new wife, Juliana. Elliot had scars on his face and kept his hair shorn, but he'd softened somewhat from the last time Beth had seen him. Married life looked well on him.
Patrick was the eldest, fifteen or so years older than the other McBrides. He'd been father to them when they'd lost their parents, raising the three boys and Ainsley the best he could. Ainsley clung to him for a long time, and then to Patrick's wife, Rona.
Isabella and Beth, by tacit consent, took over a few of Ainsley's tasks to allow Ainsley to spend time with her beloved family. Still more tasks when Eleanor's father, Earl Ramsay, arrived, so that Eleanor could fuss over him.
Ian, despite his avoidance of crowds, seemed to take the filling house in stride. When he wasn't taking his children out for walks or riding with Cameron and Gavina, he spent it closeted in the sitting room with Daniel. He'd occasionally pass a late evening in the billiards room with the McBride brothers. Beth would look in and see Ian and Elliot smoking in silence while Sinclair and Steven did most of the playing and talking. Ian also quietly won much money from the other three.
Daniel was the Mackenzie who gave Beth the most concern. He'd become as obsessed as Ian over whatever they were doing in the sitting room, bolting down the stairs whenever mysterious packages arrived at the door. In fact, while Ian would emerge from the room from time to time, Daniel remained behind. There was no question of unlocking the door and taking a peek on the rare occasion both left the room, because Daniel had sent for parts for a new lock and installed it himself--and he kept the only key.
Three days before Christmas, Beth came upon Daniel and Bellamy facing each other in a dim back corridor. Bellamy and Daniel both had fists raised, and Daniel sported a large and multicolored bruise from his forehead to his jaw.
Chapter Ten
"Daniel! What on earth?"
Bellamy lowered his fists and stepped away from Daniel, his stoic expression in place.
"Oh, hello, Auntie," Daniel said with his usual brisk cheerfulness. "Bellamy's giving me a few lessons in boxing. I need them, as you can see."
"I do see. Bellamy didn't give you that, did he?"
Bellamy looked faintly alarmed, but Daniel laughed. "Nae, not Bellamy. Lad down the pub. The barmaid's been me mate for years, but her new intended didn't see it that way."
Barmaid. Beth's maid Katie had related the gossip about what had happened in the village since their last visit. "Ah, yes. She's marrying the blacksmith's boy."
"Aye, biggest lad in town. We went a round or two before he knocked me down. Best boxer I ever faced. I came home and asked Bellamy to show me what I did wrong."
"And what did he do wrong?" Beth asked Bellamy.
"Didn't guard right." Bellamy stepped forward, the servant disappearing, the fighter emerging. He held up his fists, arms slightly bent, knuckles loose. "In fighting like that, if your hands are too close to your face, your opponent can shove your fist right back into your own eye, and then get under your reach while you're trying to decide what happened."
He demonstrated by slowly thrusting his beefy fist at Daniel's upraised one, pushing Daniel's back at him. Then Bellamy followed with his other fist, underneath to Daniel's face, right where the bruise was.
Daniel sighed in resignation. "Fair point. Thank you, Bellamy. Hello, Dad."
Cameron came down the hall like an angry bear, the picture softened somewhat by his daughter riding on his shoulders. Gavina saw Daniel, squealed in delight, and held out her arms.
Daniel caught her as she tried to dive off the taller Cameron, then Daniel swung her around, making her squeal all the more.
"Brawling in the pub?" Cameron felt himself torn between exasperation and worry, and also the pang of realization that his son had grown up. Cameron had been brawling in pubs at sixteen, chasing barmaids, fighting for their favors. Danny had gone from babe in arms to tall university lad so quickly. Gavina would grow as quickly, gone before he knew it.
"Not in the pub," Daniel was saying. "In the yard behind. No one was hurt--only the pride of Daniel Mackenzie."
"I heard," Cameron said, retaining his fatherly growl. "Blacksmith was worried I'd fetch a constable to arrest his son for pounding you. I told him it was no more than you deserved. You leave the local barmaid alone, Danny. Trouble only comes of that. Ye don't piss in your own nest. Beg pardon, Beth."