Highland Storms

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘Yes, very bad,’ she breathed, opening her mouth for his tongue to explore. At the same time, she couldn’t resist running her hands up his broad back and shoulders, her fingers burned by the heat of him through his shirt.

  She’d never liked whisky herself, but the tang of it made his kisses taste like heaven. Marsaili couldn’t understand it. She ought to have been repulsed and disgusted, instead she couldn’t get enough.

  His hands moved down to caress her behind, pushing her against him. She felt the evidence of his desire, but even that didn’t frighten her as much as it should have done. A wanton part of her wanted to rub herself against him like a cat and she was just about to do so when a low growl from Liath brought her to her senses. Brice must have heard it too, because he broke off the kiss. They both froze and listened.

  Someone was coming up the spiral staircase.

  Brice glanced around him and tried to make his brain function. The heady combination of too much liquor and Marsaili in his arms didn’t help, but he managed to assess his options somehow. They were on a small landing which didn’t lead anywhere except to Marsaili’s room, since it was at the very top of the tower. There was only one thing to do, as far as he could see. He propelled Marsaili into the bedroom and shut the door as quietly as he could, sliding the stout bar into place. He saw her open her mouth to protest, but put a finger on her lips to shush her. They both knew he shouldn’t be in here, but he wasn’t staying long and no one would ever find out.

  The steps could be clearly heard since whoever it was didn’t even attempt to mask his or her progress. Marsaili stared at the door as if in a trance, her eyes huge with fear. Brice could see she knew who was coming and that it obviously wasn’t the first time it had happened. He clamped his teeth together hard. Well, it will be the last, he vowed.

  Liath was still growling, the sound growing in volume until it seemed to rumble round the small room. Brice gave the dog a pat of approval, then moved silently to stand behind Marsaili. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. He could feel her trembling, but she relaxed slightly and leaned into him as if she trusted him to keep her safe. This made him draw in a sharp breath, but he didn’t stop to analyse the protective instincts she was awakening. Time for that later perhaps.

  A kick on the door announced the visitor’s arrival outside. ‘Marsaili? I know you’re in there so don’t pretend you’re not. And that infra … infr … infernal animal too.’

  Seton. Brice wanted to bare his fangs and growl, the way Liath was doing right now. A wave of anger washed through him, but he tried to keep it at bay. The man was obviously still drunk and there was no way Brice could confront him at the moment. That would compromise Marsaili beyond return. He hugged her closer and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. He was surprised to realise she fit against him perfectly, her soft curves moulded to him. It was as if she’d been made for him and him alone.

  Seton’s slurred voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Don’t think you can ’scape me … Y’know it’s futile. You’re mine. Always have been.’ Seton laughed, a humourless cackle. ‘Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. Sh’d thank me. Be a whore like your mother oth’wise. I made that lelly-liv … lily-livered priest come see the widow. He’d told me ’bout your father years before.’

  Marsaili’s chest rose and fell quickly, showing Brice that the man outside the door was distressing her with his disclosure. He put a finger on her mouth again to indicate it was better not to reply. Engaging a drunk man in conversation only prolonged it, in his experience, and it was the last thing they wanted.

  Seton gave one last bellow of frustration and thumped on the door with his fist. ‘Sleep well, vixen. When you’re mine, I’ll be keeping you ’wake at nights, see if I don’t …’

  The words trailed off and the door shook as if something heavy had fallen against it. Brice guessed Seton had passed out on the landing and he probably wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. He swore inwardly, but dare not take the risk of rousing him, however, so he couldn’t possibly leave that way. He was left with only one option.

  Well, two, but he wasn’t so far gone he’d contemplate the second one.

  He pushed Marsaili gently out of his embrace and she turned to frown at him, consternation and anxiety clear in her lovely green eyes. Brice bent close to her ear and whispered, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll leave now and I’ll send someone to fetch Seton and carry him back to his house.’

  ‘But what if he wakes when you step over him?’

  ‘I’m not leaving that way.’ He smiled and couldn’t resist giving her one last kiss. ‘But if you ever tell a soul what I’m about to show you, I’ll have your guts for breakfast.’ He was only half joking, since his father had impressed upon him the need for absolute secrecy.

  Her eyes opened wide again, but in surprise this time, as he walked over to a small garderobe built into the outside wall. Searching with his fingers, he found the hidden catch and pushed at the stones on one side. It required some force, but with a scraping sound, they finally moved back to reveal a narrow opening which obviously hadn’t been used for quite some time. Cobwebs fluttered at the top and a slightly mouldy smell wafted into the room, together with a cold draught.

  Marsaili blinked, but he gave her no time to comment. He just smiled and waved, then stepped inside and onto the hidden staircase and closed the door behind him. After standing still for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the faint light, he made his way down the steep steps with a slight feeling of regret.

  He knew he’d made the right decision. Although spending a night with Marsaili would not have been a hardship in any way, he knew it would have had consequences. Consequences he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept as yet. He needed to think and with Marsaili in his arms, his brain didn’t seem to work at all. Not to mention all the whisky sloshing round inside him. He was therefore very grateful to his ancestors for having the forethought to provide him with an escape.

  Quite what he was escaping from, however, he couldn’t decide.

  Marsaili spent a sleepless night, going over what had happened in her mind and staring at the wall where the secret door was located.

  Had Brice used it before? Had he entered her room while she was sleeping? The thought made her shiver, but she didn’t think so. For one thing, Liath would surely have given some sign of Brice’s presence. Even if he never growled at the man, he always greeted him with at least a tail wag and that would wake Marsaili.

  But what did she really know about Brice? How could she be sure he was to be trusted? Now she was aware of the hidden door, there was nothing to stop him using it if he was bent on seduction. And the thing which scared her most was that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist.

  I wanted him.

  There was no disguising the fact that she’d completely lost her head while he kissed her. She had been ready to act the wanton, to forget all her principles and allow him to do whatever he wanted. In no way had she stopped his hands from exploring at will. Instead she had reciprocated, running her hands over those broad shoulders, the taut muscles of his arms and …

  Dear God, what must he think of me?

  She had sworn never to let a man treat her the way they’d behaved towards her mother. First her father, Farquhar Kinross, and then a string of others had used Janet, until that old goat Simon Grant decided to marry her. And he’d only done it to have a housekeeper and someone he could knock about whenever he felt like it. Marsaili felt loathing for her step-father well up inside her, but quelled it. He was dead, no point dwelling on the past.

  I can’t let it happen to me.

  She had to make it clear to Brice that she was not like her mother and never would be. As soon as possible, she would seek him out. She had to make him stop playing games with her because she didn’t trust herself not to respond.

  Brice emerged from his chamber around noon and headed straight for the loch. The water was decidedly fresh, but it woke hi
m up and cleared some of the cobwebs out of his fuzzy brain. It couldn’t cure his sore head, however, but he knew it was just a question of waiting it out.

  A hearty meal of cold left-over roast meat with bannocks helped, and a tankard of ale went some way towards easing the pounding behind his eyes. He didn’t really feel ready to deal with the world though, so when Marsaili came over and requested a private word with him, he frowned at her. She was probably going to question him about the secret passage and he wasn’t in the mood for explanations.

  ‘Can it wait? Only I’m not exactly at my best right now and I was planning on returning to my room for a while.’ He put up a hand and massaged his scalp, which felt good.

  ‘It won’t take long, I promise. I … just wish to discuss something briefly.’ There was an anxious look in her eyes, which was unlike her, and he noticed there were dark circles underneath them as if she’d slept badly.

  He swallowed a sigh. ‘Very well, follow me.’

  He led the way into the old laird’s book room and shut the door after she had passed through. She stopped almost immediately and turned to face him.

  ‘How many rooms in this house have doors like the one you showed me last night?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m not going to tell you that. It’s a secret shared only by my father and brother and I shouldn’t have shown you the one in your room either. It was only because necessity forced my hand. I hope you haven’t spoken of it to anyone? I did warn you to keep it to yourself.’ He glowered at her, his head starting to ache more fiercely again. He’d thought he could trust her, but perhaps not?

  ‘No, of course I didn’t mention it, but you must see it doesn’t make me feel very safe.’

  He tilted his head to one side and pretended to misunderstand. ‘On the contrary, it ought to be immensely reassuring. If Seton ever comes calling again and succeeds in battering your door down, you can disappear into thin air and he’ll be none the wiser.’

  She took a step towards him and pointed at him, green eyes narrowed and shooting sparks. ‘It’s you I’m worried about, not Seton. He won’t get past the door and even if he did, Liath would deal with him. You, however, there’s no stopping. I doubt my dog would attack you even if I told him to, the traitor.’

  He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her from under hooded eyelids. ‘And what makes you think I’d come sneaking into your room at night? I’m a well brought up young man. I usually wait for an invitation.’

  Marsaili snorted. ‘Like you did last night?’

  He allowed himself a grin. ‘As I recall, you opened the door when I knocked and although I’ll admit to pushing you inside later on, that was to protect your reputation, not destroy it.’

  She glared at him. ‘So that’s why you kissed me?’

  He laughed, even though it hurt his head. ‘No, I kissed you because I couldn’t resist and because I felt like it. You didn’t tell me to stop so I assumed my advances weren’t unwelcome.’

  ‘Well, they are, so kindly desist in future. I’m a respectable woman and you can’t bamboozle me with your charm, the way you do everyone else.’

  ‘Hmm, would you like to put that to the test?’ he asked, stepping closer and running a finger sensuously along her lower lip while he stared into her flashing eyes. He saw them open wider in dismay when he pointed out, ‘You haven’t moved away from me even now.’

  She shook him off and turned her back on him. ‘Don’t, please. I … would be grateful if you would keep your distance from now on. Go and practise your wiles on someone else. I’m sure there are plenty of girls around here who’d be only too pleased to warm your bed.’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t want them.’

  She threw him a glance over her shoulder. ‘That’s not what I’ve heard. I was told you think all women are the same and none worth bothering with for long, but you’ll have any who offer you temporary amusement.’

  It was Brice’s turn to frown. He recalled saying something of the kind jokingly, perhaps to one of the other men, but he hadn’t meant it to reach female ears. He attempted a nonchalant tone. ‘Well, you can always try to change my mind, you know,’ he challenged. ‘Could be I just haven’t met the right woman yet. That’s what my father thinks anyway.’

  ‘Maybe I can’t be bothered,’ she countered, pronouncing the last word with considerable sarcasm.

  He chuckled. ‘No, maybe I’m not worth wasting your time on,’ he agreed. ‘Was there anything else or can I go back to bed now?’

  ‘You haven’t promised to leave me alone yet,’ she pointed out, peering at him suspiciously.

  ‘Indeed.’ His grin widened, but he didn’t say the words she was waiting to hear.

  She made an impatient noise and flounced to the door. ‘Oh, you’re impossible. Just keep away from me, do you hear?’

  ‘Yes, madam, loud and clear.’ He executed an exaggerated bow, but didn’t stop smiling. ‘Too loud, in fact. Ouch.’ He put up a hand to his aching head again.

  In exasperation she yanked open the door with unnecessary force and stepped outside, but in the next moment she came flying back into the room as if she’d rebounded off something. She let out a little cry of surprise.

  Brice looked past her and groaned. ‘Great timing, as always,’ he said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marsaili fought to keep her balance. She’d collided with someone who had his hand up, ready to knock. A stranger who looked as astonished as she must do herself. Dark grey eyes blinked at her from under darker brows and deep brown wavy hair that was slightly too long. She’d bounced hard off a wide chest, but although the man was a bit on the stocky side, he wasn’t fat, just thick-set and muscular.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, ‘but I was looking for Brice Kinross.’ He looked up and caught sight of Brice. ‘Oh, there you are.’ A smile spread across his features. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were entertaining a … er, lady.’

  The way he hesitated over the final word made Marsaili see red. ‘If you don’t mind, sir, I’m the housekeeper here and we were having a discussion about provisions,’ she informed the man, staring him straight in the eyes to see if he dared to dispute this. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but she could tell he wasn’t convinced because his eyes were still laughing.

  Brice smiled and came forward to envelop the man in a bear hug. ‘Ramsay, it’s good to see you. And Alex and Ida too? Well, well, we are honoured indeed.’

  Marsaili glanced behind the man called Ramsay and noticed belatedly that he wasn’t alone. A teenage boy with masses of wildly curling black hair and merry honey-brown eyes was grinning at them all. Dimples either side of his mouth gave him an impish look, which was reinforced by his gangly, lean frame and turned up nose. Holding his hand was a small girl aged about four or five, with hair as blonde as Brice’s and serious blue eyes.

  Marsaili drew in a sharp breath. Brice was a father? She didn’t know why, but somehow this had never occurred to her before.

  ‘Gentlemen, may I introduce Miss Marsaili Buchanan, my housekeeper, as she mentioned. Marsaili, this is Ramsay Fergusson, my uncle, and a young friend of ours, Alex Adair, both come from Sweden for a visit if I’m not mistaken. And last, but not least, Ida.’ He hunkered down and held out his arms. ‘Hello, my sweet. Do I get a greeting?’ The little girl smiled at last before running towards him. Brice lifted her high up and swung her around, making her shriek with joy.

  ‘Higher, please, higher!’

  Marsaili felt as though there was a knot pulling her insides tight until they hurt. Since Brice wasn’t married, this had to be an illegitimate daughter and she couldn’t help but wonder about his relationship with the girl’s mother. It was obviously good, if she allowed the child to travel this far to see her father. Surely Ida hadn’t travelled alone with two men though? Marsaili craned her neck to look out of the door again and caught sight of a young girl sitting on a bench in the great hall. A nursemaid or the mother?

  The man calle
d Ramsay interrupted her thoughts by joking with Brice.

  ‘You should know we’ve come for a visit. You sent for us,’ Ramsay laughed. ‘Although come to think of it, you don’t look quite at your best today, so perhaps you’ve forgotten? Should I hazard a guess as to what you were doing last night?’ He sent Brice a teasing glance.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ Brice shook his head, then grabbed it as that clearly hurt. ‘Damned harvest feast. The villagers practically forced me to partake in some drinking game. What could I do but humour them? I didn’t want them thinking their laird a coward or worse.’

  Ramsay laughed again. ‘I doubt they had a hard time persuading you. But I’m pleased you’re in tolerably good spirits, unlike the last time I saw you.’

  A shadow passed over Brice’s features, but he quickly masked the pain Marsaili glimpsed in his eyes. ‘I’m fine, apart from a splitting headache of course.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. I’ve brought you some letters, but perhaps you’d rather read them later when you stop seeing double.’ Ramsay dug out half a dozen letters from a satchel and handed them over.

  Brice flicked through them, glancing at the writing as if he knew each and every one. When he came to the last two, however, he froze for an instant, then held them out to Ramsay, his mouth tightening. ‘These you can burn. I don’t want them.’

  ‘Are you sure? It might help to read what Elisabet and Jamie have to say –’ Ramsay began, but Brice interrupted him.

  ‘I’m not interested in any more excuses. Besides, it’s in the past. It doesn’t matter any longer.’

  Marsaili knew Jamie was Brice’s brother, but wondered who Elisabet was. She was obviously someone who had hurt Brice in some way, judging by the way his eyes darkened at the mention of her name. Ida’s mother? A woman he loved? The thought sent more sharp pain knifing through Marsaili’s innards, but she gritted her teeth against it. Why should it matter to her whether Brice loved someone? She didn’t want him anyway. To stop herself from thinking about the matter further, she concentrated on her duties as housekeeper.