Yield to the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Then she realised what this was about. The laird had arranged a new place for her, mayhap to serve the lady of this house? She had no objection to honest, hard work and would prefer to keep busy at tasks and chores than sit and contemplate her recent woes. She walked ahead of Muireall, noting the well-kept look of the cottage and, once inside, the clean, comfortable furnishings, nicely arranged in what looked to be two private chambers and the one larger one that served as both kitchen and common room. No byre to hold cattle or other livestock inside—that must be out behind the house, next to the garden. This was the house of someone higher than the usual villager.

  But, the one thing missing was anyone who lived here.

  Ciara walked to the table and motioned for Cat and Muireall to join her there. A parchment, a small jar of ink and a quill lay in the centre there. As she sat down, Cat continued to look for any signs of an inhabitant and found none—no clothing, no personal items, nothing.

  ‘Aidan and the laird asked my father to handle this matter, but he thought it best handled by me. “A woman’s softer touch” or some such nonsense. Since he tends to be a bit more familiar with crop agreements and warriors sworn in service, I thought it would be kinder to you to do as he asked.’

  ‘Kinder? I do not understand,’ she said, glancing from Ciara’s kind smile to her friend’s worried one.

  ‘Because of the results of your involvement with the laird’s son, and now with your husband’s death, you are left homeless and destitute. The MacLerie and Aidan wish to give you some assurances that you will be cared for.’

  She wanted to argue that there was no involvement, but she could not dispute that the attention of the earl’s son had dragged her good name in the dirt and caused her to become a pariah in the village.

  ‘This house, yours now, is granted in consideration of serv—your relationship with the earl’s son. A small stipend will be provided for your care and the house’s upkeep. If any bairns result, they will be taken care of accordingly.’

  ‘I cannot have bairns,’ she blurted out when she should have corrected this woman’s assumptions about what had or had not happened between them.

  The smile on Ciara’s face turned even softer then and a sadness entered her eyes. Cat saw that same reaction from any woman who’d had her own children—a mix of understanding, sympathy and utter sadness at what a lack of bairns would mean in their lives. She blinked, knowing that tears gathered and would fall, exposing her true feelings to this stranger, no matter her confidence in discussing such personal issues in the manner of a transaction.

  ‘To protect you and to give you some assurance that this is a binding agreement, Aidan asked me to prepare this for you.’ Ciara held out the parchment, which lay covered in rows and rows of words Cat could not read. ‘Muireall, if you would?’

  So, the earl’s son either knew or suspected she could not read and had suggested Muireall’s presence for just this situation. Gair’s family had all benefited from his first training and now serving as steward to the MacLerie. Reading and writing had been taught to his brothers and his sister as well.

  ‘Why not take a look around?’ Ciara suggested as they sat in the still and utter silence, waiting for Muireall to read the document that would determine her future.

  She smiled, nodded and rose from the chair on shaking legs. Walking to the furthest place in the cottage, she entered one of the two private chambers.

  A bedroom.

  A large bed, too, off the ground on a wooden frame that must be rope-strung...and comfortable.

  Several trunks and a small table with two stools sat in the corners of the chamber. A good-sized hearth that promised to keep out the cold and dampness shared a wall with the other chamber next to it.

  This would be warm and dry and private.

  The unavoidable fact that she’d been trying not to think about came crashing down on her—this house was for Aidan MacLerie’s leman. A place where they could meet and where he could spend the night in her bed. With his lover.

  With Catriona.

  She swallowed deeply against every sort of image and thought that brought up.

  And yet, where was the righteous anger that she should feel over this? The man had sent his cousin to barter like the fishmongers she’d seen selling their wares near the river. He’d never asked her. Turning around, seeing the whole of the chamber as it was meant to be, she now understood the strange discussion with Ciara.

  ‘Catriona?’ She pivoted to find Muireall in the doorway, staring at her with a confused expression.

  ‘Have you read it? What does it say?’ she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, but unable to hide the shivers that coursed through her body at the thought of spending nights here with a man she did not know.

  Muireall came close and motioned her even closer. Leaning their heads together, her friend explained everything in a whisper.

  ‘He is publicly declaring you and claiming that you are his leman. This house...’ she glanced around the chamber and then back at Cat ‘...this house is yours no matter what happens between you. The laird has given it to you. There is a settlement for you, he’s calling it your “widow’s portion”, provided by the earl in gratitude for Gowan’s loyal service to help you save face. And there will be money every year for your care.’

  Stunned by the generosity and the nerve, Cat could not even think of questions to ask.

  ‘And you said you did nothing with him?’ Muireall asked.

  ‘He kissed me once and I slapped him.’ At the doubt in her friend’s eyes, she shook her head. ‘Nothing else. There is nothing else between us!’

  ‘Catriona,’ Muireall began to advise her. ‘I have seen enough men to know a couple of things about them and about men like Aidan MacLerie.’ She looked around to see if Ciara had moved from the table and drew Cat over to the window. ‘First, this, all this...’ she waved a finger at the house ‘...this speaks of two things to me—guilt and desire. That he feels guilty about his behaviour speaks well of him. The desire is not a surprise considering him and considering you.’ Muireall’s gaze fell to Cat’s breasts, which she’d always thought too large. ‘And he is willing to pay for his pleasure, not like most nobles.’

  ‘Muireall!’ Shaking her head, she asked, ‘How many noblemen do you know?’

  ‘I have lived here my whole life and seen my share of them, Cat. And believe me, some don’t pay, they just take. At least the young lord is looking to protect you and to provide for you. Better than most women can expect to be treated, at that.’

  ‘Are you suggesting I let him pay to bed me?’ she asked.

  ‘I believe you when you say that nothing has happened between you. But...’ she glanced out to the common room and lowered her voice again ‘...the arrangements he’s made for you, they speak of his desire for you and his hope that something will. So, make no mistake in this—he wants you and he wants you in that bed.’

  ‘I will refuse this, him,’ she said. ‘I cannot whore for him.’ Cat stepped back and turned to go out and refuse these shackles. And she would have, if Muireall had not grabbed her wrist to stop her. ‘You think I should do this?’

  ‘There is not a word in that document that requires you keep the arrangement between you, or requires bedplay in exchange for this house. Nothing is promised by you at all. Only him. Aidan promises in it that this is all freely given for reasons known only to him and you.’ Muireall let go of her hand and took a breath, shaking her head. ‘I am no solicitor and no peacemaker as Ciara and her stepfather are, but the wording is clear and concise. This is all yours once you sign that contract.’

  It made no sense. Contracts were agreements in which each party got and gave. If he was giving this, he must expect something in return? Or did he truly feel guilty over her spiral down into disgrace because of his attempts to seduce her?

 
‘And if I refuse? If I do not sign it?’

  Muireall shrugged. ‘I think that is what you need to ask Ciara now and Aidan when he arrives later.’

  ‘He is coming here?’

  The smile that met her question made it clear how her friend viewed the situation and exactly what she though Aidan MacLerie expected to happen. A pointed glance across the chamber at the bed, that bed, and a tilt of her head confirmed it.

  Even if everyone in the village thought she was his lover already and even though she faced a bleak future, she would not be paid to give herself to any man. She had faced death once to avoid it and she would have to find a way out this time as well.

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Catriona understood what she had to do now. She walked back into the common room where Ciara and the damning document sat waiting for her.

  ‘I think this is something I should talk to the earl’s son about before I agree to anything,’ she said.

  The lift of one eyebrow was the only sign of a reaction from Ciara. If she’d thought this a matter accomplished, she gave no sign of dismay at all.

  ‘I will await your word then, Catriona. Aidan said he would arrive here shortly so you can speak to him directly. All you have to do is sign this, or make your mark on this line, and return it to me.’

  After pointing to the place to be signed, Ciara stood and nodded to both of them before walking to the door. Just before pulling the door open, Ciara turned back and smiled once more.

  ‘I have handled many matters, both personal and legal, for my cousin Aidan. But not once has he ever done anything like this for any other woman with whom he was involved. That makes me wonder why he is doing this for you?’

  She could not speak, could not think, so she just watched as the young woman left. Muireall was about to close the door when Ciara rushed back and pushed against it.

  ‘I pray you not to be insulted, but if you wish to learn how to read and write, I would be willing to teach you. Stop by any morning if you are interested.’

  Surprise seemed to follow surprise this day and that offer, an incredibly generous and kind one and not insulting at all, was the last one she could withstand. She moved across the room and sat down on one of the large, cushioned chairs there.

  ‘I must return home, Cat,’ Muireall explained. ‘Are you going to wait here?’ Cat nodded, not otherwise moving or speaking. So overwhelmed at this point that she could not, she could only nod when her friend kissed her cheek and took her leave.

  And she waited to speak directly to the man who was at the centre of her downfall, but who might also be the one who could help her the most. Was he acting honourably as both Ciara and Muireall seemed to think? Was he making reparations for his actions? Could she trust her usually misguided sense of how men acted in something that could save or end her honour and possibly her life?

  Chapter Nine

  Standing before the house he’d arranged for her, Aidan felt as though he’d aged a score of years in these last weeks since first seeing Catriona at the well.

  Then, bent on seduction, he had teased and followed her, expecting that she would, like all the others had, fall madly in love or lust with him and they would spend countless hours sharing pleasures of the flesh until his ardour for her cooled. And then there would be another. Even the thought of marriage had not changed his thinking on what his life would be like.

  Her naked in his bed.

  Then the repercussions he’d not considered had happened—she’d refused him, they’d been exposed, or his attempts had been—and she’d faced the censure of the villagers as a married woman cuckolding her very popular husband.

  His harmless suggestion to send Gowan on a training assignment became a death warrant for the man. Not because of Aidan sending him off, but because the man died trying to return after hearing of the rumours. Rumours, not fact, had killed the man. Rumours that were his fault.

  His father’s eyes had widened when he’d explained what he wanted for her. Though he’d parted ways with women on good terms with a bauble or sack of coins to ease his way out the door, he felt he needed to do this even though she’d never shared his bed. It was the right thing to do....

  Though he could not deny that he still wanted her.

  Even knowing he’d caused her husband’s death. Even knowing that it would seem like he was simply using her. Even though it would be better to turn the house over to her and walk away. At this moment, standing there, waiting to knock and go inside, his body readied to join with hers. His cock cared nothing for good intentions or bad ones. He knew it could be good between them and not just for him.

  For he’d noticed that, as she went about her chores and errands, and other than the few times they’d exchanged words or spoke, she never smiled. Oh, a polite one here and there when greeting someone she knew, but the smile that curved those voluptuous lips of her mouth into a bow that begged to be kissed? Never one of those.

  She had had a hard life, he’d discovered after seeking out more about her. Brought here about two years ago by her much older husband, she seemed to exist by serving someone else. Whether Gowan or his son or her friend Muireall, her needs never seemed to matter.

  He laughed then, at himself mostly, for he stood here, in the dark, outside a house he’d given to a woman he’d never touched. He, the consummate womaniser, stood lusting over a woman who did not want him. But the worst thing? The worst thing was that he stood here with his stomach clenching and nervous sweat on his palms, waiting to knock on her door.

  His feet moved without thought and, as he raised his hand to knock, Aidan realised how that would fail to do the one thing he’d hoped would happen—give her the protection that her living here in what everyone thought was his house would give her. No one would dare to treat her with disrespect. As his leman, the woman he claimed as his, none would mistreat her without worrying over the results. No other man would approach her. Now, in front of the door, he knew that a man did not knock on his own house or that of the woman he kept in his bed and under his protection.

  He let his hand drop to the latch and he lifted it, easing the door open and stepping inside. In the almost pitch darkness, lit by one small lantern sitting above the hearth, he reached for the kindling and added some of the wood, chopped and piled by the stone hearth. Soon a fire began to chase away the chill of the cold room. It was only then that he spied her, sitting in a large chair in the darkened corner of this larger, open chamber.

  Her head leaned back against the cushioning, tilting to the left. Her hair was loose and fell in waves, covering her shoulders and breasts. Her hands lay on the arms of the chair and she’d drawn her legs up under her. A sigh escaped her lips and she shifted—his body tightening in response to the sight of her there. Part of him wanted her to wake, but another part just wanted to savour gazing at her in such a state of repose. Aidan walked to the other chair and sat in it, trying not to disturb her.

  Now he saw other things. The dark smudges that marred the skin under her eyes. The cheeks that seemed less full. The need to sleep now rather than after the evening meal. All signs of exhaustion and not eating enough. Grief and worrying did that.

  And he did not like it.

  He thought about carrying her in and placing her on the bed, but he feared waking her. So, he waited. The heat began to spread and warm the room. Watching her sleep, he wondered what her reaction would be? His cousin said she had refused to sign the paper that would give her clear ownership of the house and the settlement. Did she not want it or did she not want it from him?

  A piece of wood in the hearth popped, sending sparks into the draught of air travelling up through the chimney while the sound echoed loudly enough that Catriona stirred. First her eyes fluttered open and then she pushed herself up to sit. He could tell the exact moment when she noticed him there. After a moment of con
fusion, her gaze cleared and she rose, curtsying before him.

  ‘My lord,’ she said, in a voice husky from sleep. ‘I did not mean to fall asleep.’

  Would she be compliant and polite now, weighed down by scandal and grief for her husband? The man Aidan had, for all other intents and purposes, sent to his death?

  ‘Catriona. You do not need to stand before me like a servant,’ he said. ‘I pray you to sit again.’

  He thought she might refuse when she paused for a few, very long seconds. Then she sat once more, her back rigid, the mahogany tresses of hair flowing around her with every breath she took.

  ‘I would have been here sooner to speak to you, but duties kept me away.’ Now he stood and walked to the hearth. ‘You must have questions?’

  ‘What is this about, my lord?’ she asked softly, her gaze not meeting his. ‘Why this? Why me?’

  ‘Catriona.’ He waited for her to look at him. When she did not, he spoke her name again, louder. ‘Catriona.’ Those deep-blue eyes filled with sorrow now met his and he ached to destroy every bit of sadness there. ‘I caused much of the pain you are suffering. I wanted you and wanted no one and nothing to stand in the way of that.’

  ‘So Muireall was right, then? This is about guilt and desire? Mostly guilt from the sound of it.’

  He smiled. Muireall, like many MacLerie women, was intelligent and outspoken and, most times, correct in her assessment. ‘She is partly right. Guilt? Aye, guilt drove me to arrange with my father for this house and a settlement for you.’ He stepped closer to her, crouching down so that their faces were at the same level. ‘But never doubt that desire played a bigger part.’

  A lovely blush crept up from her neck to her chin and then into her cheeks, brightening her paleness.