‘That was kind of you,’ she said, reaching to take it from him. His fingers grazed hers, not by accident, she suspected, as he let it go. ‘And kind of Lady Jocelyn to share such a luxury with us.’
‘She may not know,’ he whispered to her before turning back to her stepson. ‘As an apology of sorts, Munro, for beating your sorry arse into the ground today.’
Uncertain of how Gowan’s son would take such a comment, she waited to see his reaction. After a short hesitation, he surprised her by laughing right in Aidan’s face. And, although she usually saw his sullen, disagreeable side, his amusement seemed genuine. Cat felt some of the tension in the cottage ease. Pouring some of the deep-red wine into two cups, she handed one to their guest and then one to Munro.
‘And you, Mistress MacKenzie? Where is your cup?’
Cat froze at his words. Would Munro pick up that he knew her already? Most around here were MacLeries, whether close or distant relation did not matter. Very few went by other names. Instead of waiting for Munro to point it out, she shook her head and held up the empty cup and filled it from the pitcher of ale.
‘Wine is too strong a drink for me, my lord. It goes right to my head. So I will leave it to you two to enjoy and drink the ale.’ At the darkening of Munro’s gaze, she turned to Aidan. ‘If you do not mind, my lord?’ She motioned to them to sit at the table, never waiting for his reply.
‘I do not mind at all, Munro,’ he said to his friend and not to her. He understood that Munro would take more offence to her declining such a gift. Wine such as that was too costly for their table. ‘I would not want to see your stepmother light-headed or otherwise affected this night.’
Had he actually spoken ‘this night’ more loudly or had she just imagined it? As though on another night such a reaction would be desired?
Shaking her head, trying to clear such thoughts, Cat took the bowls from the shelf and ladled the lamb stew into each. Though she’d planned that this would last for several more meals, she knew that these two, strong young men would empty the pot with their appetites. Since there really was no choice in this—to offer less than everything would be an insult to the lord’s son—she filled their bowls and placed them on the table.
Then with her own bowl half-filled, she sat across from the very man she’d been trying to avoid—avoid thinking about, avoid talking about and avoid talking to. If she thought this an innocent invitation from one friend to another, the merriment in his eyes as he met hers confirmed just the opposite. He’d planned this all, using Munro as the way to get here. Having no choice but to offer hospitality and company, Cat took the chunk of bread offered by Gowan’s son and dipped it in her stew.
This would the longest meal of her life.
* * *
Aidan tried not to laugh—first at the surprise on her face when she saw him and then at the way she tried not to allow him to see how affected she was by him. When he’d decided that the only way to know why she feared him so was to know her more closely, Munro seemed the obvious way to do that. It was not difficult to wheedle an invitation to his father’s cottage for dinner.
Now, as he and Munro talked about the day’s events, upcoming duties and plans to travel to several of the other MacLerie holdings, Aidan never took his attention from her. He noticed the way the edges of her mouth curved when she smiled, the way she savoured and chewed the succulent chunks of lamb and turnips and the way she tried not to stare at him.
At first, she seemed intent on staying apart by sitting on the other side of the table from him and Munro and even staying out of any of the talk. But her nervousness seemed to ease and she offered a few softly spoken comments to the conversation. He noticed that any attempts to ask about her own life before coming to Lairig Dubh were neatly directed to another topic or turned into questions about him or Munro even.
Aidan glanced around the cottage as they ate. He noticed it was plainly furnished, but clean. Similar in size to most of the cottages on this lane, he saw nothing that seemed to say this was her home there. Two trunks sat along the back wall. Munro had told him that although she’d been married to Gowan for about eight years, they’d only moved here about two years ago. That was time enough to make this her home and yet, it was not.
As the meal continued, he watched her as much as he could. And his body reacted when he realised that she, too, stole glances of him just as much. If she was fearful or reticent, her eyes never gave it away. Though he had enjoyed the shocked expression when they’d walked in, the soft smile she gave when he offered her the loaf of bread pleased him more.
He wanted to speak to her alone, but prodding Munro into inviting him here was the first step. Put her at ease with his presence and then further their acquaintance...hopefully much, much further.
Soon, too soon for his liking, they finished eating the simple but tasty meal and he could draw out his time there no longer. They rose as he did and he shook Munro’s hand, with words about their duties on the morrow. Walking to the door, he turned back and spoke to Catriona.
‘My thanks again for the warm welcome in spite of the lateness of the plans, Mistress MacKenzie.’
‘Any friend of Munro’s will find himself welcomed in his father’s home, my lord,’ she said, dipping into a curtsy before him.
He reached out and took her hand, guiding her back to standing instead of the cowering position she’d taken.
‘When you say “my lord”, I look for my father,’ he said, looking to Munro first. ‘Now that we are known to each other and seeing that I am friend to Munro, you may call me by my given name. I pray you, call me only Aidan.’
She tried to free her hand from his grasp, but he held it firmly as he waited for her reaction. His body tightened, his blood heated, as he waited to finally hear the sound of his name spoken in that earthy tone of voice.
‘Oh, my lord, I could not be so familiar with you. You are the earl’s son, after all,’ she said, laughing as she used her other hand to loosen his fingers from around hers. ‘It would clearly be disrespectful to do so.’ The lightness in her voice slipped when she turned to Munro, who wore a dark frown now. ‘Though since it is your request that I do so...I will ask my husband for his permission when he returns.’
Aidan nearly laughed aloud at how smartly she’d slipped his noose and reminded him once again that she had a husband. With a simple phrase, she placed that husband directly between them and in his path should he be pursuing her! He could not force the issue now without making Munro suspicious, so he nodded and smiled at her.
‘A wise woman who relishes the guidance of her husband,’ he said, nudging Munro with his elbow. ‘May we both be so blessed with wives as obedient as your father’s when we marry, Munro.’
He could only describe her expression as equal amounts of anger, satisfaction and... Something else swirled in those bright blue eyes. Something he could not identify, though he hoped it was anticipation. Deciding that leaving was the best thing to do at this moment, he lifted the latch and pulled open the door.
‘Good evening to you both,’ he said with a nod as he stepped outside.
Aidan did not turn back to look, though he wanted to savour every moment in her company. Part of him feared the door would slam in his face, but somehow part knew that she would never dare such a thing...at least not in front of Munro.
The way his groin tightened told him he wanted to see more of the slamming-door Catriona than the one who seemed to cling to polite behaviour. Though she hid herself behind the plain garb and manners of a goodwife, Aidan suspected that there was so much more to Mistress Catriona MacKenzie.
And after this meal together and after catching enticing glimpses of the spirit of the woman that lay hidden, he knew he wanted her even more.
Chapter Five
The man was everywhere.
For someone of such a high po
sition and with duties to see to, Cat had no idea of how Aidan MacLerie managed to be in the village so much. Or how it was always as she made her way through her days and chores and errands.
When she went to get water at the well, she spied him nearby.
When she washed clothing by the side of the stream, he sat on horseback some yards away.
When she visited the miller and the bakehouse or the butcher, he would cross her path unexpectedly.
Each encounter was brief and, if any exchange of words was possible, it was only a polite word of greeting. He always greeted any other person in the vicinity, too, so it did not look untoward to others. But the heat in his gaze was only for her and she knew it.
This morn had dawned dark and dreary with rain coming in fierce, windy waves, interspersed with only brief respites of calm. Few of the villagers braved the weather, but she’d promised to help Muireall again and she could not let something as predictable as rain stop her. As she darted along the muddied paths, holding her skirts above the worst of it and pulling her arisaid over her head to keep the torrents from soaking her too quickly, she never noticed him in front of her.
Cat hit the wall of his muscular chest and stumbled off the lane. The length of her skirts and the arisaid tripped up her feet and she careened towards a large puddle off to the side of the path. Tangled in layers of cloth, she had no chance to save herself from landing in the cold, filthy water there. She scrunched her eyes closed, pulled in a ragged breath and prepared herself for the shock of the frigid pool.
She never hit the water.
His strong arms encircled her, holding her only inches from the surface of the puddle, before pulling her up and against his body.
‘Have a care, Mistress MacKenzie,’ he whispered as he put her on her feet and righted her cloak, exposing her face to his. ‘Running with your head so low can be dangerous.’
Cat tried to take a breath, but could not. His hands surrounded her still and she could feel the heat escaping from his body. She raised her head so she could see him from under the edge of the woollen cloak and found his gaze a penetrating one instead of the usual amused one. She tried to think of a humorous response to his admonishment so she could be on her way, but all thoughts of placating him vanished when his mouth took hers.
Hot. Hard. Wet.
Thoughts fled. Breathing stopped. The rain and everything else disappeared.
He pulled her closer then, tilted his face and possessed her mouth, sliding his tongue deep within and tasting her.
After a single, reckless moment of complete oblivion, she realised what he, what they, were doing and she pushed her way out of his embrace, wiping the back of her hand across her lips.
But that kiss could not be undone. The boldness she expected from this brash, lusty young warrior, but she should have better protected herself from this kind of embrace and kiss. This kiss spoke of entitlement and forbidden passion and dishonouring herself and her vows of faithfulness. This kiss led to more. This kiss led to....
Cat lifted her hand and delivered a stinging slap to his face. The sound of it echoed in the air around them as the shadow of her hand imprinted in red on his cheek. He blinked several times before letting his hands drop from her shoulders.
‘How dare you!’ she said, looking around to see if anyone witnessed this illicit gesture. ‘I do not know what gave you the idea that I would violate my vows to Gowan, but I will not. I am an honourable woman and I owe....’ Her eyes burned and she prayed that the rain would disguise the tears she felt pouring forth. She took a step back and lowered her voice.
‘You may think that you have the right to claim whatever woman catches your eye...and you might have that right, but I beg you to look elsewhere, my lord,’ she warned. ‘I will not be a willing party to your misguided, youthful escapades.’
He’d not spoken a word. He’d not moved or in any way reacted to her slap or her words. Cat understood that there was really nothing she could do if he decided to have her, but she hoped her objections would matter before he took another step in his apparent plan to seduce her.
Suddenly aware of what she’d done, she once more lifted her skirts and ran, this time with an eye on the path ahead and without daring to look back at him. As she made her way to Muireall’s, she glanced through the heavy rain to see if anyone was about and could have seen them. The paths and walkways seemed empty and she prayed no one had been about.
Arriving out of breath and soaked to the skin by her haste, she knocked on her friend’s door. Cat allowed only a momentary pause before opening the door and she closed it behind her immediately, leaning against it as though it would keep him out.
As if anything would keep him from a place or a thing...or a person...he wanted. She shivered from the cold of the rain and from the heat that yet raced through her from that simple but forbidden touching of two mouths.
‘Here now, Catriona,’ Muireall said, taking hold of her and pulling her towards the hearth where the children huddled.
The heat of the fire there kept the dampness of the storm from spreading inside. Cat allowed Muireall to lead her there and to pull the wet woollen cloak from around her and replace it with a dry blanket. Soon, a cup of heated broth filled her hands and she tried to stop the trembling that shook her now.
‘What happened?’ her friend asked. Muireall’s hand steadied the cup and guided it to her mouth. ‘Drink more before you answer. You are still shivering.’
Cat sipped the broth and peered over the rim of it at the three little faces staring at her from their places. The eldest, a boy, was the caretaker, gently but firmly guiding his two younger sisters to a safe distance away from the fire’s heat. The older girl rocked the nearby cradle while humming a tune that Cat had heard Muireall sing many times. The younger daughter leaned against her sister, her thumb being suckled noisily while she gazed at Cat.
A pang of loss struck her as she watched those bairns and tried to regain her control. She would never have children. She could never have them. No matter how much she wanted or prayed it to be so, she would not conceive and bear her husband babes of their own. At other times, she could keep the emptiness away, but the old feelings forced to the surface by the tumultuous kiss now grew stronger.
Tears threatened once more and these would be witnessed and unexplainable. So, she took a deep breath and let it out. Then she drank the rest of the broth before offering the cup back to Muireall. Hoping for the courage she needed, she smiled and nodded.
‘My thanks for your gentle care.’ She allowed the blanket to fall from her shoulders and straightened on the stool. ‘I lost my footing and almost landed in a puddle the size of the loch. I thought my ankle twisted.’ A small lie to keep her friend from getting close to the truth.
‘Let me see it.’ Muireall was on her knees before Cat in an instant. The bairns took it as a sign they could play and they climbed on her back, throwing their arms around her neck and pulling her over. ‘Ah, my wee urchins! ’Tis not playtime now. Catriona’s foot is hurt.’ As Cat watched, her friend peeled the children off, one at a time, and put them back in their places with a kiss on their small faces.
With a poke and a prod, her ankle was checked with a thoroughness that any healer or physician would be proud of and declared all was well. And the time it took for Muireall to do that gave Cat the opportunity to gather her wits and calm herself. Now, the blanket was too warm, so she rose, folded it and placed it back on the trunk where it belonged. When she turned back, Muireall stood there before her.
‘Are you well?’ Cat could hear the sceptical tone underlying the words.
‘I was out of breath from running to get out of the rain and then tripped. I am well now, though.’ Cat leaned over to glance and nod at the children. ‘What can I help you with today?’ she asked. If she’d thought her friend would be diverted, she was wrong.
‘So explain to me how a near fall into a puddle leaves you looking well kissed?’
* * *
He lost track of how long he stood there in the teeming rain. His body ached from her brief but arousing nearness and from the hot taste of her mouth. Every moment of the brief encounter refuelled his desire for her.
The way her eyes had widened as he clutched her to him, avoiding the muck and cold of the puddle. The way her mouth had dropped open as she met his gaze. The way she had tasted as his tongue explored her mouth for that brief, brief caress. His body bucked again, his cock full and aching to be within her, as he thought on the kiss.
And, though her reaction was not the one he wanted, Aidan finally saw the fire that always lay banked within her gaze. The slap had surprised them both—the flare of shock and then anger had turned her eyes to an icy blue. His cheek yet stung from the sharp reproach for his behaviour. That she had done it did not anger him.
’Twas her words that bothered him as they put his entire campaign out between them. Seduction was simply a game to play while waiting for the more serious parts of his life to commence. While waiting to take on more duties and while waiting for that much-discussed wife. It was what men, especially young men, did. But now, in the cold, steady rain that helped to cool his ardour, it seemed tawdry and small-minded.
Especially for the son of Connor MacLerie. For the man who would some day rule over the vast lands of the MacLerie clan.
No matter that he wanted her and would bed her if she came willing, this game had to end. He would no longer contrive to meet up with the lovely Catriona MacKenzie in the village, on the roads or in the keep. No matter that the kiss had fired his blood in an unfamiliar and exciting way. None of it mattered for the woman had refused him.
He wiped the rain from his face and walked back to where he’d tethered his horse. Vaulting on to its back, he gathered the reins in his hands and guided the animal through the muddied lanes and up the hill to reach the keep. With a call to the guards on duty at the gate and on the walls surrounding the yard and keep, he entered his home.
Yield to the Highlander Page 4
