A Highland Folly by Jo Ann Ferguson

Until then, Lucais had been one of the most logical persons she had ever met. Could it be that the Highlands drained away all good sense? That was a simple explanation for all the silliness she had endured since she’d come here.
    â€œI said I had no excuse.”
    When he gave her a lopsided grin, Anice laughed. She appreciated his honesty after the uneasy questions she had received from Mr. Tawes on her way to take Mr. McNab’s ferry across the river. If Killiebige’s mayor had been as sincere with the English government instead of trying to gather their favor at the same time he vowed to his neighbors that he would keep the road from being built, the glen would not be torn as it was.
    And you would not have met Lucais . She did not try to silence that thought. Attempting to keep her rebellious mind in check had been futile, especially when the thin sunshine slicing through the clouds burnished his black hair with blue fire. His mud-splattered coat accented the strength of each motion while he tied his horse’s reins to a tree near the gates.
    â€œShall we, Anice?” he asked, offering his arm.
    â€œAs you can think of no excuse not to join me, yes.” She put her fingers on his arm. Her memories had not played her false, for his muscles were as hard as she recalled from when he had carried her to Ardkinloch. “I have not heard any explosions today.”
    â€œNot from gunpowder at any rate.”
    â€œAre you having trouble?” Anice did not want to think of trouble as they walked past neatly trimmed bushes that seemed so unlike the wild heather and brightly hued saxifrage along the river. Few plants had a chance of surviving within the walls of Ardkinloch, for the family had a tradition of bringing the sheep in. For safekeeping, she had been told, although she doubted anyone would be raiding the flock in this civilized age.
    â€œThe men are frustrated with the lack of welcome in Killiebige,” Lucais replied. Pausing in the middle of the road leading toward the front of the stone house that was so grand it seemed out of place here, he gave her a wry grin. “I had warned them, but I suppose they had to see the truth for themselves.”
    â€œYou must truly hate it here.”
    â€œIs it that obvious?”
    She smiled as his lips quirked. Keeping her hand within his arm, she matched the easy pace he set toward the house. “In some ways, you seem more at home here than I believe I ever shall. Yet in others you have a Town polish that Neilli longs to have her brother obtain.”
    â€œSuch a polish is often gained at the high price of submerging one’s true thoughts and feelings.”
    â€œWhich you seem to have become a master of.”
    He glanced at her and away, but not before she saw his lips tighten. She considered saying she was sorry, but she had no idea what she had said that would cause him to put up this icy wall between them. Even as they reached the front door of the massive stone house, she had not decided whether an unsatisfactory apology or silence would be best.
    Lucais was as taciturn when he lifted the knocker and rapped it twice before stepping aside. When she looked at him, he did not meet her eyes. Instead, he was glaring around, not with curiosity but with some other emotion she could not discern. He was becoming a greater puzzle all the time.
    The door swung open to allow her to enter a magnificent hall. She was sure several of the largest rooms in Ardkinloch would fit within this space that was empty save for a splendid staircase that was so wide, a carriage and four could have driven up it without hitting the banister on either side. The polished wood floor shone in the faint light coming from the narrow windows above. Paintings hung on the walls, but the shadows concealed any hint of what the subject might be.
    â€œGood afternoon,” said a footman in dark green livery. “May I help you?”
    â€œI am Anice Kinloch. I