Read Online The Devil Wears Tartan by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Ranney
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another courtyard, this one composed of yellow stone hewn into large squares and set into the earth.
But it was the object in the middle of the courtyard that held her motionless in wonder and surprise. A massive obelisk was erected there, its pyramid-shaped top pointing toward the Scottish sky.
She continued to walk toward the building, uncaring about her footing, her gaze fixed on the obelisk. As she reached the courtyard, a breeze plunged beneath her skirts, danced around the lace of her pantaloons, and brushed against her ankles. Davina placed her hand down flat against her skirts to keep them from becoming airborne. A moment later, the air was still, the courtyard bright and sun-drenched, the glare such that Davina had to shield her eyes with her hand.
How could an obelisk be here? But there it was, standing proudly in the center of a stone courtyard as if she were in Egypt instead of Scotland. Approaching it carefully, she stopped some twenty feet from its base and followed the red granite pillar withher eyes all the way to the tip. Slowly she walked around the base, studying the pictographs incised in the stone.
“It’s called Aidan’s Needle.”
She turned to find Marshall standing at the door to the building.
“It was carved at Aswan by order of Pharaoh Thotmes III in the fifteenth century B.C .,” he said. “The Romans removed it to Alexandria.”
“And you acquired it from there?”
“Actually, it was a gift to the Prince Regent from the Pasha of Egypt. The Prince Regent gave it to my father, who was happy to rescue it.”
“And he brought it here.” She placed her hand on the granite, surprised to find that it felt warm, almost alive. “It must have been a massive undertaking.”
He nodded. “It was. It weighs more than two hundred tons. The journey to Scotland required three ships and took two years.”
What a very strange place Ambrose was and how very odd that she’d no inkling of it before arriving here a day earlier. Yet in that short amount of time, her life had changed even more dramatically than she’d thought it would.
She looked around the courtyard. The obelisk was not the only strange ornament, although the other statuary certainly did not rival its height or dramatic impact. At the end of the courtyard were a pair of statues of men in stone chairs staring outward, their pose rigid, their pointed beards slightly curling at the end. On each head was a pointed hat with a serpent imposedon it, and both man and snake’s stare were fixed for all eternity toward Ambrose.
“Did you know,” she asked in the silence, “that Wadjet was considered to be the wife of Hapi in Lower Egypt? She was always depicted as a woman with a snake’s head.”
“How do you know that?”
“I read a great deal,” she said. She turned toward him. “I’ve always been fascinated with Egypt, but I’d never thought to see something as strange as an obelisk in my new home.”
He didn’t respond.
Her bridegroom seemed a different man this morning. A stranger, rigid and arrogant. He was simply dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt open at the neck. His hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it several times. His boots were well polished, the insides worn as if he also wore them for riding.
The look in his eyes, however, decreed him an earl. The distance in that gaze announced him a stranger.
She felt her face flush. What an utter fool she’d been to think that he might be eager to see her. But she didn’t move away, or seek an excuse to leave him.
“Did I do anything wrong?” she asked, wondering if she was being too direct with him. If she was, then he’d simply have to become used to her idiosyncrasies. After all, that was part of marriage, was it not? To learn the foibles and flaws of another person and accept them? “Why did you leave me last night? Is it because I wouldn’t tell you about my scandal?”
He looked startled at her question. “I would just assoon leave
But it was the object in the middle of the courtyard that held her motionless in wonder and surprise. A massive obelisk was erected there, its pyramid-shaped top pointing toward the Scottish sky.
She continued to walk toward the building, uncaring about her footing, her gaze fixed on the obelisk. As she reached the courtyard, a breeze plunged beneath her skirts, danced around the lace of her pantaloons, and brushed against her ankles. Davina placed her hand down flat against her skirts to keep them from becoming airborne. A moment later, the air was still, the courtyard bright and sun-drenched, the glare such that Davina had to shield her eyes with her hand.
How could an obelisk be here? But there it was, standing proudly in the center of a stone courtyard as if she were in Egypt instead of Scotland. Approaching it carefully, she stopped some twenty feet from its base and followed the red granite pillar withher eyes all the way to the tip. Slowly she walked around the base, studying the pictographs incised in the stone.
“It’s called Aidan’s Needle.”
She turned to find Marshall standing at the door to the building.
“It was carved at Aswan by order of Pharaoh Thotmes III in the fifteenth century B.C .,” he said. “The Romans removed it to Alexandria.”
“And you acquired it from there?”
“Actually, it was a gift to the Prince Regent from the Pasha of Egypt. The Prince Regent gave it to my father, who was happy to rescue it.”
“And he brought it here.” She placed her hand on the granite, surprised to find that it felt warm, almost alive. “It must have been a massive undertaking.”
He nodded. “It was. It weighs more than two hundred tons. The journey to Scotland required three ships and took two years.”
What a very strange place Ambrose was and how very odd that she’d no inkling of it before arriving here a day earlier. Yet in that short amount of time, her life had changed even more dramatically than she’d thought it would.
She looked around the courtyard. The obelisk was not the only strange ornament, although the other statuary certainly did not rival its height or dramatic impact. At the end of the courtyard were a pair of statues of men in stone chairs staring outward, their pose rigid, their pointed beards slightly curling at the end. On each head was a pointed hat with a serpent imposedon it, and both man and snake’s stare were fixed for all eternity toward Ambrose.
“Did you know,” she asked in the silence, “that Wadjet was considered to be the wife of Hapi in Lower Egypt? She was always depicted as a woman with a snake’s head.”
“How do you know that?”
“I read a great deal,” she said. She turned toward him. “I’ve always been fascinated with Egypt, but I’d never thought to see something as strange as an obelisk in my new home.”
He didn’t respond.
Her bridegroom seemed a different man this morning. A stranger, rigid and arrogant. He was simply dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt open at the neck. His hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it several times. His boots were well polished, the insides worn as if he also wore them for riding.
The look in his eyes, however, decreed him an earl. The distance in that gaze announced him a stranger.
She felt her face flush. What an utter fool she’d been to think that he might be eager to see her. But she didn’t move away, or seek an excuse to leave him.
“Did I do anything wrong?” she asked, wondering if she was being too direct with him. If she was, then he’d simply have to become used to her idiosyncrasies. After all, that was part of marriage, was it not? To learn the foibles and flaws of another person and accept them? “Why did you leave me last night? Is it because I wouldn’t tell you about my scandal?”
He looked startled at her question. “I would just assoon leave
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