I hoped my husband’s worries were for naught. I hoped Campbell’s men were merely en route to some other conquest. What, after all, would they be seeking here at Glenlochie? We had little to offer them. As improved as our provisions and our living quarters might have been, we hardly seemed worthy of a full-blown takeover. It was Ossian Lochs they wanted—Roses and Wilkie’s keep, given to them by her father the king.
I allowed the disquieting thoughts to fade into the background. I wanted instead to savor the effects of the night and to appreciate the momentary harmony of my home. In fact, both the pleasant, beautified state of our keep and the lingering aura of my husband’s astounding night-lit attentions were nothing short of miraculous. I had never, in all my twenty-one years, experienced such a profound sense of physical well-being.
It was late afternoon by the time I made my way to the kitchens where several of my sisters and all of the staff were busy at work. I could hear their laughter. The hall, although set for the evening meal, was empty. I took a moment to revel in the quiet scene that bustled at its edges. The fire was lit and I went to stand next to it. The doors to the kitchen had been propped open, and I could hear the busy, productive sounds of pots clanging and cooks’ discussions, my sisters’ voices among them. Clementine, in particular, had taken to her new pastime with dedication. Her plans for the nunnery had been delayed, at the orders of my husband, since he didn’t want to spare the men who would escort her at such uncertain times. She’d offered no protests, I’d noticed, and instead seemed more than content to spend her days in the kitchens. Baking had become her new obsession. I could hear Agnes’s and Ann’s voices, too. It seemed my sisters were glad of their new opportunities. The minute they’d been allowed to work, they had embraced the employment with something akin to happiness. Just as I had.
At that moment, they came bustling as one out into the hall, noticing me immediately.
“Stella!” Clementine said, beaming, coming to me. In her hands she held a platter. “You have to taste this bread. It’s fresh from the oven. And we’ve just finished churning the butter. I’ve added walnuts and grains to the dough. ’Tis simply divine.”
“It looks it,” I said, taking a bite of the piece she held out to me. But before I could compliment her or comment on how fine she looked with the new sparkle in her eye, we were confronted by the sudden presence of our father, Aleck and one of my father’s other senior officers, Hugh. The officers themselves strode into the room, while our father hobbled. With each passing day his frailty seemed to be compounding. He looked tired yet agitated, and his eyes were watery with age and the debilitating effects of his accelerating madness. I noticed immediately that my father was not leading his men, but following. This was no small detail. My father was all-powerful laird, no matter what his condition. He had either bestowed a new authority to Aleck, or Aleck had taken it regardless—either scenario spelled trouble, I could feel it to my bones.
My sisters began to retreat to the kitchen, pulling me with them. But I had had enough of running, and hiding. “Go,” I said to them, surprised by the authority in my voice. “I’ll stay.” Something had changed in me, and the small detail had distanced me somewhat from my sisters. I was married now, and they were still hoping. I was spoken for in a way that they had never been, by a man who was not only laird-in-waiting but also as masculine as it was possible for a man to be. My status had given me their respect, I realized. And it was true that I’d hardly seen them of late. I’d make a point to remedy that, I decided. But it wouldn’t be now. Reluctantly they backed away, standing near the open doors of the kitchen for a moment before disappearing within.
Aleck walked over, standing close to me. He reached to tuck a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear. The gesture was unsettling. Too familiar. Possessive. I didn’t like what it implied, nor the confidence it took to execute it. “So,” he drawled, “the women have taken control of the manor, it seems. Isn’t it quaint?”
“Aye,” agreed Hugh, a thug with long dirty-blond hair that was matted into long strands. His demeanor and size were similarly daunting to Aleck’s, but it was Aleck who held my attention. Something in him had changed. His confidence was laced with an aspect I could not name. Malice, perhaps. Achievement. His movements appeared unusually jaunty, as though he was excited about something, smitten with anticipation. Whatever it was he was celebrating, I couldn’t help thinking it would affect us—me, in particular—badly. I wanted to distance myself from him as quickly as possible, even more than I usually did.
He reached for the bread I still held in my hand, taking it and helping himself to a bite.
And his comment irked me. I didn’t want to cower from him any longer. I could feel Kade’s support from afar and my own empowerment. Once, only days ago, I might have stood there and taken any insult he might have tossed. But we were entitled to care for our home. Kade had convinced me of that with his disbelief over the fact that we hadn’t done so in the past. Ours was a clan that had been ruled by unhealthy rules for many years. Now I could see that it was normal to work and to prosper because of it. To ignore this truth any longer seemed downright wasteful. And I wasn’t so willing to accept the dictates of selfish, mad or dishonorable men any longer.
“We haven’t taken control of it, Aleck,” I said. “We’ve taken an interest in its upkeep. And we’re all the better for it. What is it you want?”
He leaned close to my ear, murmuring lecherously, “You know what it is I want, lass. Surely you’re not that oblivious. When are you going to make good on our...discussion?”
“What discussion?” I asked him, irritated. I tried to lean back from his nearness, but he only moved in closer, looping his arm around my waist. It comforted me to know that a small but extremely sharp knife was strapped to my thigh, hidden and undetectable. And I knew how to use it. I was armed for the first time in my life and I felt wildly comforted by my small weapon. In that moment, I felt not only grateful to my husband but closer to him than I had before, as though my knife provided a link to him, and a shared motivation.
“The one about your straying husband,” he said, pulling me against him. “And your freedom to seek satisfaction elsewhere.”
“I would hardly refer to it as a ‘discussion,’” I seethed, struggling against his grip. “Besides, you’re wrong. My husband hasn’t strayed. He assured me of that. And I believe him.” Aleck’s boldness angered me, coupled as it was with unrelenting force and this daft misinterpretation of the situation: he seemed to honestly believe that I was interested in a tryst. With him. In the wake of my recent enlightenment, I was irritated enough to lash out at him, unthinkingly. “As for your insinuations, Aleck, forget it! Put it out of your mind altogether. You’re the last person I would ever seek out, even if I had already—”
I realized my mistake as soon as I uttered it. I attempted to backtrack. But Aleck’s eyes narrowed with understanding. “Had already what?”
“Had already felt inclined to seek satisfaction elsewhere,” I said quickly. “Which I would never do, by the way. My husband provides more than enough satisfaction.” I hoped my indignation and the honest truth to that statement would put Aleck’s suspicions to rest.
But the strategic ambition and sudden understanding in his eyes sent bolts of icy fear through my veins. “He won’t force himself on you, will he? He’s too honorable for such treachery, isn’t it so?” Aleck was practically gloating with his dawning realization. He spoke quietly, with a note of gleeful disbelief, as though unintentionally voicing his thoughts aloud. “Those Mackenzies pride themselves on it. Honor.” This last word he said with some distaste, clearly not consumed by its premise, as my husband was. Aleck looked at me, studying my face, finding there the regret of my mistake. The turn of his calculating intent played clearly across his face. “Your marriage has not yet been sealed,” he said quietly. His hand slid farther, settling on the swell of my hip.
But I jerked away from him and was able to escape him. I ran to the
kitchens, taking refuge among my sisters and the kitchen staff. Aleck wouldn’t dare abduct me, or whatever it was he might do, so publicly. At least I hoped it.
And my hopes were confirmed, at least for now. Aleck did not follow me.
This was a very bad development indeed: that Aleck even suspected that my marriage to Kade was not yet truly sealed was not only disturbing, it was dangerous. I knew Aleck coveted the lairdship of our clan with every fiber of his being, and had from the time we were children, when he’d sought my affections even then. I’d suspected his betrayal and so had Kade. I’d wondered if Aleck had had a plan all along. And I’d wondered at the lengths he’d go to.
I needed more information from someone inside the ranks of our clan’s army. Someone who’d known the inner workings of the clan before Kade’s arrival, and before the threats of Campbell’s attacks. Someone who might sense a shift, or who might hear rumors from both sides of the divide. I had an idea of who that someone might be.
I found Bonnie, seated at one of the tables, folding the linens for the evening’s place settings. Even Bonnie and Maisie, of late, had taken an interest in the more mundane workings of the manor, when they’d seen how enthusiastic Clementine and I had become. Maisie, it seemed, had a flair for flower arranging. And Bonnie was clever with a needle and thread.
“Bonnie,” I said. “Can you lead me to Jamie? I need to speak to him.”
Several of my sisters overheard me, and moved closer. And Bonnie looked at me, taking her time to study the difference in me since we’d last had a real, sisterly conversation. I’d been preoccupied and had so far managed to avoid discussions on the more intimate details of marriage, which my sisters asked about at every opportunity. And here was another opportunity, which Bonnie, it appeared, intended to take full advantage of. Her mouth eased into a knowing smile. “Stella, I daresay marriage suits you to the extreme. What they say about Kade Mackenzie must indeed be true, and then some.” She lowered her voice. “Is it true? Is he as beastly as we’ve heard? You’ve hardly told us anything.”
I knew I wouldn’t get away with skirting her questions entirely. It was bad enough that Aleck suspected the secret of my marriage’s yet-to-be-consummated status. I didn’t want my sisters to suspect the same, especially since it was a detail I planned on addressing sooner rather than later. To hell with my husband’s oaths and his honor. There were bigger problems to consider than an outdated vow that I’d never even asked him to make in the first place; I intended to convince him of this at my very next opportunity. I needed to make my reply convincing. “Aye,” I replied, attempting to match the worldliness of Bonnie’s tone, “he’s exactly as beastly as a wife would want him to be.”
Bonnie’s eyebrows shot up. Hoping she was placated enough to allow us to change the course of the conversation, I said, “We’ll talk more of that later. But first, I have something urgent I must ask Jamie. Do you know where he might be?”
“Aye,” Bonnie said. “He had an idea for a new sword design, and he’s taken it to Caleb to see if he could fashion one.”
Maisie had come up next to me. She smoothed a wrinkle in the fabric of my dress, in a gesture of hopeful entreaty. “Could that have anything to do with the urgency of your question, dear sister?”
I had not forgiven her either for her betrayal or for her hurtful outburst. “Nay, dear sister. I asked to speak to Jamie, not Caleb. At present, my hope is to avoid Caleb. My husband has forbidden me to speak to him.”
“Of course he has,” said Maisie. “He knows of your desire.”
“He knows of our history, or lack thereof. That’s all there is to know. I’m married now, Maisie. There’s no future between Caleb and me. It wasn’t meant to be.” I realized it then: I meant the words as I spoke them, even though I hadn’t realized, fully, how I felt until this moment. I no longer yearned for Caleb. I yearned for only one man. The one I was now married to. The one I would share a bed with tonight. The one whose increasingly infuriating countdown numbered...fewer than eight full days.
I was furious enough—by both the countdown and my unresolved dispute with my sister—to brush her off. I began to follow Bonnie, who had already risen to accompany me to the blacksmith’s hut. But Maisie walked along with us. I looked at her as we walked, and she read my gaze but didn’t rise to it, nor did she comment on it. The trace of guilt in her was etched with the lingering traces of sorrow that her disappointments had introduced. My own damages, I could now consider, had been tempered just slightly by the security and comfort—among other things—that my husband had now introduced. Maisie wished for what I had: a husband—a Mackenzie, no less—whose growing devotion to me had been convincingly demonstrated. With that thought, I began to forgive her. Whether or not she’d had my interest at heart or her own didn’t really matter. This was more about my relationship with Kade than it was about Maisie. My sister couldn’t help herself. She was in love with a man she would possibly never see again, let alone have. A man who resembled my husband as only a full-blooded brother could.
But my husband didn’t want Maisie. He could have had her. She had been his for the taking, only to be refused.
He wants you, my father had said.
And Kade had confirmed it, more than once. Words spoken in the heat of the night, followed by the sensual, devastating pleasure of his claim and his desire as he confirmed his declaration.
I felt mildly flushed when my thoughts were interrupted. We were being approached by the very men we sought out. Jamie and Caleb. We were out of doors, but had only started on the path toward the tradesmen’s village.
I couldn’t help looking around the vicinity, to see if Kade might be around. We were near the manor’s picturesque rose gardens, at the side entrance. In the distance were the orchards, which sloped down a gentle incline to the loch below. I could see the small, moving figures of several gardeners pruning and tending to the trees, readying them for the winter. Mackenzie gardeners perhaps. Or our own, now newly trained and productive.
It was unlikely Kade would be in the orchards or nearby. His place was in the weapons sheds and the sparring yards, where he bested men one by one and slowly but surely earned their hard-won loyalty. Nevertheless, I wanted to make this quick. It wouldn’t do to be caught again in Caleb’s company. I could only imagine what punishment a second offense would bring.
Caleb’s appearance had improved somewhat after our last brief encounter. He had washed and put on fresh clothing. He didn’t appear quite so gaunt. His hair gleamed with strands of gold, and his white shirt suited the lightly browned skin of his face and his neck. His hands, as always, were dirtied with a perpetual film of soot. Once, this image of him, healthy and sunlit, would have clutched at my heart, inspiring me to follow him to the ends of the earth, no matter what the cost.
But now I felt little. Nay, I felt something. What I felt was the shadowy effects of Kade Mackenzie’s fingers in the most intimate place imaginable. I felt his biting teeth. I felt the hard heat of his body next to mine and the fierce, devoted greed of his kiss.
Caleb reached out to me, as though he’d forgotten Kade’s warning. Abruptly, I flinched back. Caleb’s hand dropped to his side, his expression hurt and confused by my odd response.
“Caleb,” I said softly. “Please. You mustn’t touch me. My husband is very...possessive. You must take his warning seriously. He meant every word of it.” I had a brief, outlandish desire to reach for Caleb’s hand, to hold his coal-blackened fingers in my own, not to feel him, but to inspire a repeated punishment at the hands of my jealous husband. But it wouldn’t do. Such an act might put Caleb’s life at risk. Tempers were too high. Danger lurked and war threatened. So I took a small step back from him.
And Jamie began the very conversation I had been seeking. “Stella,” he said, his eyes bright with urgency. “Mackenzie is in danger, and so are you. Aleck and his rebels have allied with Campbell. They plan to storm the keep at Aleck’s invitation. I’m loyal to your husband, as are enoug
h of us, we can only hope, to outnumber Aleck within our own ranks. You must tell your husband of this, and quickly. Have him summon his brothers and their armies tonight. Tell him the attack is coming.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, I began to make my way back to our private chambers. The evening meal was being served in the hall, and I briefly looked for my husband there, but he was nowhere to be found. I made my way to the back corridor—the only one that led to our separate wing. This corridor was always dark and quiet, removed as it was from the central, busier areas of the manor. I thought I might position some candles or some small torches to light the way, but I hadn’t yet got to it. The passage was dim, and I ran my fingers along the cold stone wall.
I wondered why Kade had retired early. But then I remembered he’d had maybe an hour of sleep the previous night.
I neared a segment of the passage that veered to the right. And as I turned the corner, I was shockingly confronted by the huge form of Aleck himself. Before I could react to him, he curled his massive arm around me, hugging me to him and simultaneously covering my mouth with his hand. It was a calculated, well-rehearsed move. He’d been thinking of this technique, practicing it, making sure he wouldn’t miss. He dragged me back the way I’d come, through a door and into a room, closing the door securely behind us. Then he released his hold. Panic clutched in my throat and I thought of screaming for help, but I knew the sound would barely penetrate through the thick wooden door. I recognized the place immediately as one of the rooms of the healing quarters. The air was thick with the medicinal smells of herbal concoctions, alcohol and the earthy notes of freshly cut roots. Relief washed through me when I saw Fee, one of the Morrison clan healers, standing next to a bed that had been laid with a clean sheet. Her small form was eclipsed by the bulk of Aleck as he hauled me to the bed and ordered me to climb onto it.
Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02] Page 23
