Cassandra inspected her features in the dim looking glass. If she wasn't the shallow, vain girl she'd been a few months ago, who was she? Yes, she was Lady Cassandra Antrucha, but somehow the name didn't seem to bolster her up as it had used to.

"Are you ready?" Lavinia's quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

Turning from the mirror, Cassandra smiled. "Yes." Straightening, she smoothed imaginary wrinkles in her gown. "But you shouldn't be up." She raised a brow at her sister. "I'm still not sure we should be going anywhere."

"You and Ethan both." Lavinia laughed, and the sound seemed fuller and more robust than it had been the day before. "Really, you needn't worry so much. This visit isn't going as I'd planned." She made a wry face. "I had hoped you could have more time to yourself to rest. You'd be surprised what wonders the moors can do for the disgruntled soul."

Cassandra looked away from Lavinia's prying gaze, wondering if those big, dark eyes had seen her inner turmoil. She had tried to keep herself steady over the past week, but the reality was, she was almost out of her mind with boredom. She had taken Lavinia's household duties upon herself—with Eliza's assistance, of course—and tedium had ensued.

In some ways, she found herself missing the bustle of London. Oddly enough, the thought of the busy city made her yearn to return home. She'd been glad to rid herself of it, but now, locked inside the cottage for more than a week, she was beginning to have second thoughts. She wanted more, but what that 'more' was, she didn't know, and it was driving her to distraction.

"Ladies, the carriage has arrived." Eliza's voice at the door startled Cassandra, jolting her back to reality. How could she have been so foolish and selfish? Life wasn't about being happy.

Thrusting her shoulders painfully back, she followed Lavinia out of the room, throwing on her cape as she went. Lavinia needed her help, and helping Lavinia was probably all she would ever do. Even if her mother hadn't concocted a plan to force her into a marriage, London no longer held a place for her. Nowhere did.

Ethan handed her into the carriage, but she hardly took notice. A strange thrill of excitement passed through her heart as the horses began to move. She was going, and it didn't matter where. A stifling weight lifted from her heart. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed to get outside the view of the cottage until now.

The drive was not overly long, but it was too dark to admire the countryside, so she simply stared out the window at the moon. The roads of Scotland seemed to be as untamed as the rolling moors, however, and she was thoroughly jostled and bounced before the carriage came to a stop before a towering building.

It could have been said that the Fergus's lived in a castle. 'Mansion' wasn't quite the proper word to describe the towering structure: somehow, it didn't seem to capture the history behind the jutting turrets and stone alcoves. Whatever word was used, it could never fully convey the beauty of Fergus Manor.

"I'm so glad you've come!" Irene met them at the door, beaming. "Charlie and Graham were just beginning to discuss such boring things that I feared I might fall asleep."

Warm candlelight surrounded Cassandra as a servant approached to take her cape. Her eyes swept the foyer from the polished, stone floor to the ceiling high above her head. Crazily enough, the outside of Fergus Manor—beautiful as it was—couldn't compare to the beauty of the rooms within.

"Say no more, little sister. I know all too well how tedious you find me." Charles Fergus smiled fondly down at his sister. "You must be Lady Cassandra Antrucha." His gaze fell on her. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you." He gallantly took her hand, pressing it firmly before releasing her.

"Don't let him fool you, Cassandra. He is anything but pleasant when his breakfast is late." Irene whispered just loud enough for her brother to hear.

Charles cleared his throat, shooting a mock-angry glare in Irene's direction. "Irene, you shouldn't talk so much; you've made me forget my manners." He smiled. "Lady Cassandra, allow me to introduce a dear friend of mine, Lord Graham McRoberts." He extended his hand with a flourish, and Cassandra noticed the tall man behind their hosts for the first time.

Masked in the shadows cast by the candles, the man's features were indistinguishable. He stood straight, and there was something about the tilt of his head that made him appear to be listening intently—and not just to the conversation at hand. He was oddly alert as though being at ease was the last thing on his mind.

Slowly, he moved forward. The way he walked reminded her of a cat who wished to play with its prey before devouring it. The thought sent an odd shiver down her spine which vexed her.

Flickering candlelight revealed skin bronzed by a foreign light, for surely, such color couldn't come from the rays of Scotland's much-absent sun. His hair was longer than most London gentlemen's, and he wore it tossed to the side with an air of carelessness. The roll of his shoulders as he walked spoke of confidence, perhaps even arrogance. Oh, yes, this was a man who didn't waver in his excellent view of himself.

"It is a pleasure to find such a lady in Scotland." Graham McRoberts took her hand and bowed over it with all the ease of a practiced gentleman, regarding her with mocking eyes darkened by the gloom of their surroundings.

Without knowing why, Cassandra snatched her hand away and raised a brow. Something in those eyes nettled her, and there was evident challenge thrown into the work of her eyebrow. As if he knew exactly what was behind the gesture, the corner of his lips lifted in a lopsided, arrogant grin, and she knew immediately that she and this Lord Graham McRoberts were not going to get along.

"Well, I believe we have kept the staff waiting with our dinner long enough. Shall we proceed to the dining room?" Charles's voice cut through the crackling tension as though he hadn't noticed anything was off between his guests.

"Yes, please." Irene laughed, looping her arm around Cassandra's. "I took an unplanned ride this afternoon, and my appetite couldn't be larger!"

As Cassandra's gaze broke from the tall stranger's, she snapped back into reality. The almost palpable tension she had felt in Lord McRoberts's eyes was gone, and she realized that no one else seemed to be affected. She was the only one who had noticed, and for that, she was grateful. Her guests would think her incredibly ill-mannered if she didn't watch herself.

"A ride?" She looked at Irene with suddenly perked interest.

"Oh, yes." Irene smiled at her. "I enjoy a good ride once in a while. Although, Charlie is always urging me to go more often. He says I spend entirely too much time in our gardens and that I need more exercise." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, horseback riding is hardly a form of exercise for me. The horse is doing most of the work."

Cassandra smiled. Riding. The thought made her achingly wistful. She hadn't felt this 'off' in years, and she suddenly knew why. Back in London, she rode everyday. Especially on days where she was annoyed or bothered by something, and since she had come to Scotland, she had had no vent for her feelings.

"Do you like to ride?" Irene's question pulled her back to reality, and she realized she was seated at an exquisite circular table.

Lavinia suddenly broke out into laughter. "Does she? My dear Irene, back in London she practically lived off the back of a horse. It was the one thing she couldn't go without, and she never allowed anyone to go along with her, either."

"Wonderful!" Irene's eyes sparkled. "You must come and ride any of our horses whenever you want. They should be ridden more often." She shrugged. "Neither Charles nor I are very keen on riding. If we need to go somewhere, we take a carriage. It's far less troublesome."

Take a carriage? And miss the wind blowing in your face, washing over you like a draught from the Fountain of Youth? Absurd! Insane! Cassandra barely stopped herself from expressing her opinion or Irene's favored mode of travel. It was hardly a comment to make at the dinner table, and the ears of those surrounding her might wither in shock at her language.

"I couldn't possibly impose in such a manner." Cassandra cleared her throat politely. Oh, yes you bloody can, idiot! Her mind screamed.

"Impose? No such of a thing!" Irene grinned. "Honestly, you'd be doing us a favor. They need more exercise than we're willing to give them."

"In that case," Cassandra smiled a wide, genuine smile, her heart pounding with ecstatic joy at the thought of a ride in her near future. "I would be delighted to be of service to you."

"Ah, perhaps you can convince Irene to venture out with on occasion." Charles said with a chuckle. "Her nose is too often stuck in the pages of a book."

"I can't help it, dear brother, if my intellectual pursuits far surpass your own." Irene grinned, raising a brow. "The physician always did say that it was a pity your brain wasn't the proper size for your enormous head."

"And your nurse, little one, failed to teach you the proper respect for your elders!" Charles teased.

Despite their taunts, it was easy to see that the pair were enormously fond of each other. They had endured the loss of parents and love in each other's company, and it was plain to Cassandra that they would stop at nothing to protect the other. The sight had her wishing she had had a brother to watch over her the way Charles did Irene.

"Charlie, I'm surprised at you." Ethan raised a brow. "Surely, your age should have disposed your childishness by now! Such an old man should be more concerned in the production of an heir than teaching a willful sister her place!"

Charlie sent a glare in his friend's direction. "I should have thought a Brodi would be more respectful to a Fergus by now. Perhaps, I'll have to teach you a much needed lesson tomorrow."

With a heavy, theatrical sigh, Ethan rolled his eyes. "I believe such a feat would only be accomplished in dreamworld."

"Not even there!" Irene interrupted before her brother had a chance to respond. "For I fear his subconscious is flooded with images of a more. . .delicate nature." She grinned wickedly at her older brother who blushed profusely.

"Do forgive my sister, Lady Cassandra. She spent far too much time learning from the French." Charlie cleared his throat meaningfully.

Cassandra smiled, her eyes flitting around the table. She hadn't had this sort of familial experience since. . .she couldn't think of a time. A bitter taste arose in her mouth. Her mother had taken that from them all, and she, Cassandra, had contributed to it.

She smiled politely—though she felt like spitting like a sailor to clean her mouth. Perhaps she made some comment, some dismissal, but she couldn't remember doing so. She only knew that the conversation at the table picked up, and other things were spoken of. Ethan and Lavinia joined in readily, laughing and joking as though they had done it all their lives.

Eying her plate, she suddenly had no stomach for food. Lifting her wine goblet, she took a healthy sip to cleanse her mouth. When she looked up, Graham McRoberts's eyes were on her, scrutinizing her in detail. There was something almost familiar about their steel gray depths, and she felt exposed before him. It was as though he were reading every secret she possessed, but he wasn't impressed.

In fact, she realized suddenly that he was the first man who had not looked at her with the heat of astonished attraction. There was no desire in his gaze, no approval. For the first time in her life, she was being scrutinized not for her looks or figure, and it almost bothered her. She didn't know how to respond to him. She was at a loss.

True, Ethan had never been attracted to her, but she had seen the glimmer of male admiration in the depths of his eyes when he'd first laid eyes on her. This man, this stranger, seemed unfazed by her. He wasn't looking at her with the interest of a man entranced by something new. Rather, his gaze settled on her as though she were familiar, expected.

Gritting her teeth, she straightened. Glaring pointedly at him for a brief moment, she quickly turned away. There was nothing to interest her in him. He was a foolish nobody, and she would likely never cross paths with him again. As she turned away with all the poise of a monarch, however, she caught a glimpse of a grin pass over his lips. He was amused by her blatant disgust with him. Amused.

She would get through this dinner, she told herself. She would show him that he had no effect on her. But she couldn't help herself from remembering his gaze: the way he had looked at her without being impressed. And the stirring his eyes had caused within her only furthered her irritation.

---------

Hmm. Who is this new guy? So mysterious. . . He does seem to have quite the effect on dear Cassie. I definitely look forward to future conversations between these two!

So I had this terrible moment on Thursday when I was out with my friends for ice cream. You know those times when someone starts teasing you about someone you kind of, sort of like? Ugh. It's the worst! But it's even more terrible when that person is sitting right next to you!! I'm pretty sure I was blushing beet red, but he probably didn't see, right? Oh, gosh. I swear, I'm going to kill my brothers one of these days! I'll just crack one of these times. It'll be ok, I've got 'one embarrassment too many' as my defense. . .Hehe. I'm pretty sure if looks could kill, they'd already be dead, but don't worry too much, they're still breathing. . .for now.

I should really stop rambling now. I'm making myself blush just thinking about that situation. Not that you guys really want to hear all this. . .or read, as the case may be. Yeah, I should stop now. Gah.

Oh! Look for new posts on Saturdays from now on! And this is me, leaving, because I've already written a small book down here. :P Until next Saturday!!