by Gill, Tamara
Boyd felt his temper rise at the blasted O’Cain clan. Could they never be anything but a thorn in his side? He picked up his ale, downing his drink. "Did the cattle have Macleod markings?"
"Aye, they did," Douglas confirmed. "’Twould look as if they have availed themselves of sheep as well."
"I wonder if it was the same three men I saw on my ride this afternoon. Although I wouldn't think they could travel that distance so quickly."
The English lass’s words caught Boyd’s attention, and he turned to her, something very akin to alarm curdling in his gut. "You went out on a horse today?" Boyd stood. "Who took Maya lass out on a ride this afternoon? Doona think to keep your tongue quiet, or you'll find yourself out on your ass." Although he had not stated they should not take her away from the safety of the castle wall, to do so without his approval was not acceptable. She could have been killed. Fallen off her horse, anything. The thought of her mangled, dead body cold in the grave sent a chill down his spine. He could not bear that. Not even for a woman he cared little to nothing for.
One of his promising guardsmen stood, wiping his mouth. "I took her for a ride along the river. She wished to go, and we couldna allow her to go unaccompanied."
Boyd turned to her, pinning her with a glare. The stupid lass was going to get herself killed. As for his men, he would deal with them on the morrow. "You wanted to go out for a ride about the estate. This isn't England, Sassenach. Here, you'll end up spiked on the end of a sword, or that of a man's, when he's taking your innocence from you."
She gasped, standing to face him. "How dare you say that to me. I was perfectly safe. Thomas had a sword, and the castle was never out of my sight. God forbid that I enjoy some time out of the castle walls. I don't know how anyone can live here, locked away like sacred relics."
Boyd had to agree somewhat. They were locked away most of the time, but it was only for his people's safety. The clan, wide-eyed and quiet watched their interaction. Boyd glared at them before turning back to her. "You are not to leave the castle grounds again. ’Tis not safe. Not even for guests of the Macleod."
She snorted at his reply. Snorted! Then sat back down, shrugging one of her delicate shoulders and making Boyd see red. The lass would end up over his lap with a tanned hide if she did not respect his rules.
"I cannot live here for months and only walk in the vegetable garden or look out over the ocean. I asked you if you would take me out to visit the fields, but you never do. I will not be a prisoner here."
"You can always leave."
Her mouth opened, a perfect O, and Boyd pushed down the need to cover her sweet lips with his own. It would serve at least in one way in shutting her up. Blast the lass for making his blood run hot, his temper soar. "’Tis not safe for you here. You are not to go out again without my knowing or my accompanying you." He turned back to his clansmen. "Doona have me hearing of you taking Maya lass out of these grounds again. She's under house arrest."
"The hell I am," she said, standing again, placing herself up close to his face. Her attempt at authority was lost somewhat since the top of her head only came up to his chin.
"The hell you are not. Doona fight me on this, lass, or I'll lock you in your room."
"You wouldn't dare,” she hissed, her sweet breath kissing his lips.
Oh, yes, he would dare. The English lass was foolish to think otherwise. Boyd bent down, scooping her up and over his shoulder before starting for the staircase. She squealed, ranted against his back, and he slapped her on her ass in warning.
He may have allowed his hand to dwell there a little longer than what was wise, but what was he to do? To have her in his arms, or at least over his shoulder, was a pleasant turn of events. She punished his back with multiple punches, several that were not a bad effort with her limited strength.
His clansmen laughed and shouted their approval as he started up the stone staircase. The lass swore at his people, words that even he had never heard before. He chuckled, enjoying himself immensely.
"Stop your hissing, lass. Were you not taught manners when you were growing up?"
She growled, and he grinned. "This is manhandling, and I'll not stop 'hissing' at your treatment of me. Now put me down!"
"Nay," he said, reaching the second floor. He strode down the hall toward Maya's room, entering her private space.
He strode over to her bed, glad to see her room was well kept. Her needs, at least indoors, were cared for to his standard. An abundance of animal furs lay on her bed, which would keep her warm at night.
Boyd threw her onto the bed, and she bounced. Her gown rode a little high on her leg. He could see her knees, the sweep of her leg, the gateway to pleasure that lay between them. If she noticed her lack of decency for the moment, she did not say, merely glared up at him, color riding high on her cheeks.
The sight of her on the bed, as if she were waiting for him to join her, crawl over the many furs, push her legs apart and settle there made his cock twitch.
"You will stay here," he said, forcing his attention away from her alluring legs, "until you can behave yourself and not gallivant about Scotland as if you have not a care in the world. I doona want to have to bury you, lass. Or explain to your English family how you died in Scotland under my watch."
Her breasts rose and fell with her labored breaths. Boyd clamped his jaw, turning away from her and striding from the room, slamming the door shut and throwing the bolt across to keep her locked in.
He could hear her rants muffled behind the wood, and he stood there a moment, taking deep, calming breaths.
He'd not had such an alluring woman under his roof for a hundred years, certainly not one who pulled his interest, made him want things he'd had no right to want anymore.
The letter to his cousin would settle the lass, give her company, and with any luck, keep her out of harm's way. Jeane Macleod would be here by supper tomorrow night, and Maya Harris would no longer be his problem. A good thing. For everyone.
Chapter 7
The laird had Maya freed the following morning but under strict orders to remain in the Great Hall and keep herself occupied with either reading or sewing.
Maya had chosen to sew the laird’s tunics that needed repairing, taking great pains to ensure the clothing was in a lot worse condition than when it had been handed to her in a wicker basket.
She smiled down at the button she was sewing on the incorrect side of his top. She chuckled at the thought of him trying to fit it through the hole that was also on the same side as the button.
She would pay him back for locking her up like a prisoner. She'd gone for a horse ride with an armed guard. How dangerous could that be?
The sound of a cart and horses pulled her attention away from her sewing. Maya walked to the door, staring out into the bailey as a carriage rolled to a halt. Suppose if one could term the vehicle as a carriage. It wasn't very fine. It looked to have wooden wheels that no doubt felt every stone and rut on the road. No glass windows, only blinds that were tied away at the top.
A woman jumped down with the help of Boyd, who came to greet her. His smile and pleasure at seeing the young woman catching Maya off guard.
She'd not seen him smile before, and to do so left her insides a hot mess.
He kissed the woman's cheek, their words low, and she could not catch what he said to her, but she laughed at whatever it was. They turned toward the door and saw Maya.
The laird's visage physically changed, all pleasure wiped from his features, and Maya felt the loss of his happiness to her very core. Why did he dislike her so much? She would be his friend if he only let her. She did not want anything from him. How hard was that for the man?
He gestured to Maya as they came to stand before her. "Jeane, this is Maya Harris. Her family sent her here for a possible union with me, but unfortunately, I have informed Maya lass that we will not suit."
Maya shut her mouth with a snap, glaring at the neanderthal Scotsman. Did he have to be so honest? So bl
unt! And so full of shit.
"Do not tease your cousin, Macleod, I'm not here for your hand, no matter what my family may wish," she said, no longer having to keep to Mrs. Fletcher's story of why she had turned up at Druiminn in the first place. Not now that she and Boyd had come to an agreement the first night they met.
As much as she would like to put Boyd at further ease with the truth of her arrival here, she wasn’t sure how he would react to knowing that she was from the future. Even with the laird's history with the Fae. From what history stated, he disliked the Fae, and rightfully so. They did steal his wife, after all, but to have a woman claiming to be from the twenty-first century? He would demand she leave when she could not. Not without the tapestry. There was little doubt in Maya's mind that he would think her being here was a trick being played on him by the Fae. He would loathe her presence even more then, and that would equal her to being royally screwed.
"’Tis so nice to meet you, Maya. I was delighted to receive the missive from Boyd to come and keep you company." The woman left Macleod's side and came over to Maya, linking their arms and walking her back indoors to the Great Hall. "I just know that we're going to be great friends."
For all of Macleod's brutish ways, locking her in her room for one, his suggestion to bring his distant cousin to stay had been a good idea. From all accounts, the woman was sweet-natured, a happy, young woman pleased to be of service to her laird cousin.
"I hope so. I'm glad that you're here too. The past week has been less than ideal."
"Oh, really? What has happened?" Jeane pulled her over to the chairs that Maya had been sitting on before her arrival.
"There is no one else here. Other than the female servants, I'm the only woman. And not to be disrespectful to the laird, but his conversation skills are not that forthcoming." Maya tried to be nice, the least offensive she could be about Jeane's cousin, but Macleod had been a quiet, non-talkative host from the day she arrived.
She had months left to be here. She could not endure weeks and weeks on end of no one talking to her.
Jeane reached out, patting her leg. "Well, I'm here now, and you can speak to me as much as you like. From the missive I received from Macleod, you may walk around the grounds outside the bailey so long as he is present. We shall endeavor to do so each day."
Maya threw Jeane a dubious look. "I doubt the laird will want to accompany us every day on a walk. He'll be telling you too soon that you'll have to stay indoors to be limited to the back of the castle that looks out over the ocean."
Jeane raised her brows. "Och, doona worry about that. He will accompany us. He knows better than anyone that to be locked up in a dank, dark castle will drive you mad. He will escort us, or he'll have two women causing him mischief. For all of his strength, his power in this land, Macleod desires peace at home. And so to keep it, he'll walk with us. Doona doubt my word. Now," she said, clapping her hands, pulling a maid from somewhere behind a column in the hall. "We wish for bread and cheese and tea."
The maid ran off to do Jeane's bidding. Maya smiled, relaxing back in her chair, enjoying the woman's company immensely already. Being stuck in sixteenth-century Scotland may not be so bad after all.
Not with Jeane Macleod by your side.
Inviting his cousin to stay had been a colossal mistake. Boyd had done his best over the past month to keep himself occupied enough not to have anything much to do with his cousin or his guest, Maya. But this evening, he was hosting a celebratory bonfire to thank his people for their hard work over the summer before the cold Highlands winter set in.
With the preparations for the night of revelry, he'd been able to keep Jeane and Maya busy with chores, and for the past few weeks, they'd not bothered him with wanting to take long, unwelcome walks about Macleod lands like a pair of frolicking eejits.
Did they not know that he had many things to attend to on any given day? His people did not want him strolling about his lands as if there was nothing more pressing to do than look about like a pompous laird too proud to care about the running of castle life, his people’s needs and wants.
Maya must have learned this absurd need for walking when growing up in England. No Scottish Highlander would ever take up such a ridiculous pastime.
He bathed and dressed in a fresh tunic and tan trews, wrapping his leather belt and attaching his dirk. His jerkin lay over a chair, and he slipped it on, finishing off his dressing with a shawl of tartan in the Macleod colors over his shoulder.
Tonight they would drink, listen to music, and enjoy the last two months of summer. By the time he stepped out into the bailey, the music was playing. People were dancing, and the bonfire stood set and ready for lighting.
"Aye, Macleod, will you do us the honors?" one of his clansmen called out, holding up a torch that was already alight.
He walked over and took the torch, turning to face the wooden structure about to go up in flames. "Thank you all for your hard work and loyalty to clan Macleod. Enjoy this night, for there are many days ahead of hard work to make this year's crop one of our best."
Cheers went up, and Boyd threw the torch on the pile of wood, standing there a moment to watch as the flames took hold, licking the timber to a roaring flame.
He stepped back, the heat of the fire prickling his skin. He looked past the bonfire, and through the flickering sparks, he spotted Maya. Her appearance as bright as the moonlit night, her skin white and glowing under the night sky. Tonight she wore a deep-red kirtle, her hair falling about her shoulders, and flowers seemed to have been braided through her dark, long locks.
She was talking to Jeane, laughing and drinking wine, her cheeks flushed from pleasure. She was so beautiful that for a moment, he debated going to the lass, asking her to dance. The idea of making the rest of her body flush in satisfaction, in pleasure, threatened to buckle his knees. He could not look away, nor could he act on the need that grew wilder with every passing day.
He spent half his time avoiding the lass so that he didn't have to want her as much as he did. When she was out of sight, he could push her from his mind.
But tonight, seeing her in a pretty gown made him doubt his resolve.
Why, he could not fathom, he hardly knew the lass, and yet… There was something about her that drew him. Oh, there was little doubt she was comely, a pleasing lass with a body that would make any man salivate, but his attraction was more than that. It went beyond his control. And that was what scared him the most.
He was married. Neither he nor Sorcha were dead. Sorcha may live in another realm, but that did not change the fact he'd promised himself to her until death parted them.
To act on a need, on a desire that went soul-deep, went against everything he was as an honorable man...
Maya looked about the bailey, and her eyes met his through the flames. He did not miss her heated, satisfied inspection of him. Boyd breathed in a deep, calming breath. He would not touch her.
He would not.
"Macleod," his head guardsman said beside him, pulling his attention away from Maya. A welcome reprieve that would settle him and stop him from fantasizing about a Sassenach.
"Douglas," he returned. "Are you enjoying the bonfire?"
"Aye, and I'll enjoy Samhain even more, for all the hard work will be done by then."
Boyd chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Any more news on Clan O’Cain? Have they been spotted on Macleod land again?"
"Nay, not as yet. But I doona think they'll know what's good for them. They'll be back, and when they are, we'll be ready for them."
"Kill them and bury the bodies. I doona want them returning to O’Cain lands. The laird Dougall will figure out soon enough that his clansmen were dealt with."
Douglas frowned, rubbing his jaw. "You will have trouble if we kill them. Mayhap we just injure them enough that they will not be back these ways anytime soon."
Boyd had been fighting with the O’Cain clan for years, and he was fatigued of it. His long life, over 127 years, was too long. He
was weary of all the conflict, the petty thieving, and raiding. It was time he took a harsher stand. He would and could not allow his clans peoples’ hard work to be thieved without any punishments. Clan O’Cain needed to know that Clan Macleod would not abide their crimes.
"Kill them. That's an order,” Boyd repeated.
He walked off, speaking to his clansmen and giving the lasses compliments he knew kept them swooning over him. If he could not touch them, at least he could show appreciation with the spoken word.
"You're flirting with them all. Is the laird allowed to do such a thing?"
Maya lass.
He sighed, steeling himself to look at her. To gaze upon her natural beauty without the urge to pull her into his arms and show her what happens when no words were necessary. He had thought to keep away from her tonight. Hell, he’d been avoiding her since the day she arrived. To have her this close muddied his mind and his resolve.
"There is no harm in a pretty compliment for the ladies fair.” She chuckled and squealed a little when Thomas swooped in behind her and stole her before him for a reel. Boyd narrowed his eyes at the lad, not willing to have Maya for himself, but he’d be damned if he’d allow anyone to have her either.
She would return to England a maid, or whoever ruined her would have Boyd to face. He ignored the taunting voice in his mind over what his punishment would be should he be the one to ruin her in his bed.
Chapter 8
Maya squealed as strong arms wrapped about her waist and pulled her into a Scottish reel around the bonfire. The night was simply a perfect evening.
Not a cloud in the sky took away the moonlight, the air smelled clean and fresh, the people full of gaiety, laughter, and hope. Maya reveled in being here, of being lucky enough to have time traveled and landed in a location that looked after her, cared and protected her.
She could have been unfortunate to have traveled back to any time and place. The idea didn't bear thinking of.
