He waved at the stool. “Sit down, Kit. I told you you’re safe.”
The wariness was back. “I have no reason to trust young men.”
“Perhaps not, but you can trust me.”
When he made no move toward her, she sucked in a shaky breath and sat down again. “I look too much like my mother for Lady Maxwell’s convenience. My father loved my mother. He didn’t love my stepmother, but he needed a lady for his domains and he hoped that she might be a mother to me.”
“I’m sorry. You must have been so unhappy, and missing your mother besides.”
“Aye. It wasn’t too bad while Papa was alive. He and I always got along well, and Neil was away at school and university for a lot of the time. I escaped to the stables when I could.”
It sounded like a lonely childhood, but Quentin forbore from saying so. He gained the impression that Christabel Urquhart, Countess of Appin, was a proud wee thing. She’d loathe knowing that anyone pitied her.
Although his feelings were much more complex than mere pity. He took his hat off to her courage and daring. He feared for her. He hated to think anyone had hurt her.
Not to mention he was a man. She mightn’t like him to notice her myriad attractions. But how could he help it?
“The stables where Joseph Laing was head groom.”
“Aye. When…when things became impossible and I needed to run away, he was the only one I could turn to.”
“Did you have no family to help you?”
“My stepbrother is my legal guardian. If I left Appin as Christabel, he had the right to bring me back under his control. I needed to find a new identity.”
“So Kit the stableboy was born.”
“Aye. I didn’t want Laing to tell the laird and his lady here, but he said he had to.”
“Hamish and Emily wouldn’t send you back, once they heard your story.”
“No, they’ve been very kind. It was their idea for me to devote most of my time to the bairns.”
To keep Kit away from too many inquisitive eyes, Quentin suspected. The less time the new stableboy spent with the other servants, the safer she’d be.
“So tell me about Neil’s friend. I’m surprised he didn’t try and woo you. It would be easier gaining your consent to a marriage than trying to compel you into one, surely.”
A strange, frozen expression entered Kit’s eyes and renewed nausea stirred in Quentin’s belly. “Kit, are you all right?”
She shook her head as if she banished evil memories. Or at least attempted to. “He did try. As you say, easier all round if I lined up for my punishment without kicking up a fuss.” Her voice turned hard. “He was also handsome and charming. At least he was when he wanted something and he thought his winsome ways might get it for him.”
Quentin hid a wince at her description. And an unwelcome prick of jealousy. “I’m not like him.”
“No, you’re not.” She leveled an assessing gaze on him. “I knew when I saw how he treated his horses that he was a man with no kindness. He had a ready smile, yet any mount he rode was terrified of him. Horses, dogs and children feel safe with you.”
“Thank you.” He couldn’t help smiling, although nothing about her story pleased him. “I hope you feel safe with me, too.”
She didn’t smile back. “I don’t feel safe anywhere,” she said in a bleak tone that made his gut clench with painful compassion.
“So how did the wooing proceed?”
“He moved into the castle, and Neil made sure that his friend and I were alone more than propriety allows. He proposed a week after I met him.”
“And you said no.”
“Even if I liked him – and I didn’t – the last man I’d ever marry was someone hand in glove with Neil.”
“I can imagine.”