Terri Brisbin Highlander Bundle

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘Verra weel, lady.’ Jean carried everything away, leaving the two of them alone now.

  Silence settled over the room and she waited for his next reaction or question. Before he did anything, Broc walked in and greeted her before speaking to Athdar.

  ‘I have made one of the chambers above ready for the lady,’ he said to Athdar. ‘And her belongings are there, awaiting her arrival.’ Then the man had the audacity to wink at her. Did he know he was too attractive for his own good? If he was not careful, a wise woman would see through his games and claim him for real.

  ‘Which chamber?’ Athdar asked, speaking for the first time since they arrived in the kitchen.

  ‘The far one,’ Broc answered with a laugh, as though sharing a private joke with his laird. ‘Shall I escort her there?’

  Certainly Athdar would escort her himself? If she’d thought so, she would have been mistaken, for he nodded then at Broc.

  ‘Aye. If you will?’

  ‘Come, lady,’ Broc said, holding out his arm to give her something to hold on to. ‘Glenna is waiting there to attend you.’

  He talked in a constant stream of words about nothing of consequence as they walked, tracing again the path she’d taken from Jocelyn’s alcove, but stopping in front of the third chamber. The door was open and Glenna worked at the hearth, starting a fire to warm the chamber.

  ‘Sleep well, lady.’

  With those words, he left her and closed the door.

  ‘It will be warm in here verra soon, lady.’ Glenna took off her cloak, the one she had not even realised she yet wore, and hung it on a peg by the door. ‘Let me help ye get under the bedcovers.’

  Isobel’s custom was to undress without the help of a maidservant, but she allowed this luxury because the fatigue of another sleepless night, along with a nervous day of hiding and expecting to be discovered before it was too late to send her away, assailed her at that moment. Now exhaustion flooded through her and the urge to do as Glenna suggested was irresistible. She stood while the girl loosened her braid and brushed the tangles free. Then she held up the covers and Isobel climbed in.

  Within minutes, sleep rushed up to claim her. Though she should have been restless and spent the night tossing and turning and worrying about being forced to leave, Isobel had the feeling that she was in the place she was always meant to be.

  Chapter Ten

  Though all the signs of an early winter were there, the next morning dawned clear and bright with little indication of impending doom or bad weather. Athdar was not fooled.

  As long as Isobel was under his roof, doom impended.

  When she did not come down to break her fast, he knew she must be exhausted and did not pursue it. He had duties and as long as he remembered those, it was better for him and his peace of mind. Always with an eye to the gates and waiting for the return of those assigned to escort his sister to the pass, Athdar accomplished many things. And the one thing he did not do was to ask after Isobel.

  Broc joined him in the yard, commenting on the miller’s progress and asking about other tasks and villagers yet unready. Athdar ignored the smirking expression that dared him to ask about Isobel and went about his tasks, deciding that he needed to take Broc over to where his men practiced their sword skills and let them beat some of the arrogance out of him.

  One of his oldest friends, the son of his father’s steward, they’d grown up together as boys and it was always assumed that Broc would serve Athdar when the time came for him to be laird just as Broc’s father had served Tavish MacCallum for decades. For a time, for a long time, Broc had lived with kin in a distant village, returning here only when his father took ill and then died.

  No longer the serious boy Athdar remembered from their youth, or the one he thought he remembered, Broc carried out his duties well. But somewhere along the way, he’d also become the inveterate womaniser and though he never forced himself on anyone, he also never committed to one woman and settled down. In a youth, it was to be expected, but now, these many years later...?

  Athdar ended up taking up a sword and they spent about an hour in practice. He did not look cowed when they finished, but a few new bruises showed and he was out of breath, so Athdar felt some satisfaction. Steward or not, sword and fighting skills were critical, so he did not feel any guilt for putting the man through some intense training.

  And yet, Broc yet wore the irritating smirk.

  ‘Fine!’ he yelled as they left the yard, the keep their destination. ‘How fares Isobel?’

  Broc laughed. ‘I thought you would never ask. She rose just before I came out to speak to you. She seems well.’

  ‘Shouldn’t the riders be back soon?’ he asked, glancing up to see the position of the sun in the sky. ‘Without the women to slow them down, they should be back.’

  ‘Aye. And especially with a day as clear as this one.’

  Athdar stopped before the door. ‘Is she in the hall?’

  ‘Nay. I forgot to tell you. She said she was going to visit with Laria until the riders returned. Said you could find her there.’

  Was he stating it that way simply to annoy him? As though Isobel was giving orders now? Athdar rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, staving off the need to kill his steward. Knowing Isobel was busy and out of his way...out of his sight and not able to constantly tempt him... Athdar went to the kitchen and took his midday meal there.

  * * *

  Called in many different directions, the rest of the day and daylight sped away and supper approached. With no sign of the riders, he considered sending more men out and would if the men did not return by late this night. Those he’d sent knew the roads and had the light of the full moon to allow them to travel at night.

  They should have returned by now.

  They had not.

  * * *

  By the time everyone gathered in the hall for supper, Athdar was worried. Had they encountered trouble along the way? He trusted those he’d sent as well as the MacLeries who travelled with his sister, so he would wait for word before believing anything else.

  One thing Broc had done correctly was to assign Glenna to serve Isobel and see to her needs until she returned to Lairig Dubh and so when he saw the maid returning from the upper chambers, he called to her.

  ‘Has the lady returned from Laria’s?’ he asked when she approached him.

  ‘Aye. She asked for a tray to be brought to her for supper,’ Glenna said.

  ‘Is she well?’ he asked. Why else would she eat in her chambers? he wondered.

  ‘I think she seeks to avoid your temper, laird,’ the girl said as a hint of laughter trickled out with her words.

  ‘She thinks I am angry with her?’ he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he was walking towards the stairway before he realised he’d taken a step.

  It took him no time at all to reach the top floor and find himself standing before the door of the chamber he’d sworn not to enter. Had he unconsciously indicated to Broc to place her in Mairi’s old chamber? Athdar hesitated for several minutes there, fighting off the old demons and memories without uttering a word. If Isobel stayed, he would move her...

  If she stayed?

  Hell, not even putting her in Mairi’s room lessened the hope or the knowledge that not only did she not want to leave, but he did not wish her to. Before that thought could finish, he knocked on the door.

  ‘Come.’ He lifted the latch and opened the door, forcing his feet to move into the room he’d not entered in years.

  ‘Athdar,’ she whispered once she saw that it was him. ‘Have the men arrived?’ She wore a plain gown with a woollen shawl around her shoulders. Her hair lay in loose waves of curls and floated around her hips with each step she took towards him.

  Part of him, the heart that had never healed after Mairi’s death in this room, was horrified that he noticed her appearance. Another part of him, the randy part that found her immensely appealing, pushed him to watch the way her eyes brightened when she
spoke to him and the way his heart pounded when he listened to her voice.

  ‘Nay,’ he said, clearing his throat and trying to concentrate on his reasons for coming to see her. ‘I fear they may have had to escort Jocelyn all the way through the pass.’

  ‘Are they safe?’ she asked, clenching her hands and twisting them. A worried frown marred the usual bright expression. ‘I should have been with them.’

  ‘Aye, you should have,’ he said, a bit sharper than he wanted to. ‘But, you are here and safe and my men and the MacLeries will have one less woman to worry over.’ She nodded. ‘If not this night, we will know by the morn.’

  She shook her head but did not look reassured. ‘Will you send more men?’ Isobel met and held his gaze. ‘On the morrow?’

  ‘I sent a man out ahead of them, two days ago. He will reach Lairig Dubh and let Connor know of their early departure.’ He should not have, but he reached out and touched her hands. ‘They will be safe.’

  A trembling smile lifted the corners of those tempting lips and she nodded as she laid one of her hands over his. ‘Thank you for your words. Especially when you have every right to be angry with me.’ She acknowledged his original reason for coming here just as he remembered it for himself.

  ‘I am not angry with you, Isobel. I do not understand why you engaged in such subterfuge or why my sister helped you.’ He paused when she started to object. ‘Or why my sister inspired you to such behaviour,’ he finished, convinced completely that Jocelyn and Isobel had conspired—either openly or in secret—for her to remain behind.

  Something inside pushed at him to be honest with her. Something strong forced the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  ‘I am not unhappy that you wished to remain here.’

  Isobel looked up at him, unable to believe the admission he’d just made to her. ‘You are not?’ He shook his head and his stern expression softened just the scantest of bits. ‘But you are angry?’

  He let out a breath and released her hand. Walking back to the door, which she noticed he seemed to glance back to every few seconds, he shrugged.

  ‘I should be. You purposefully misled your mother, my sister and me. Although I think my sister knew or prodded you in this matter.’ The stern look was back in his brown eyes, making them darken to almost black. But the attractive dimple in his cheek twitched and she knew now he fought back a smile. ‘Still, I am glad you are safe.’

  ‘And glad I am here?’ she asked, not wanting to miss the chance to see his reaction. He stood now in the frame of the door and shook his head once more. In regret?

  ‘Since no one offers me such a challenging game of chess, I suppose I am.’ She could tell he would give her nothing more than that, but it pleased her. ‘I came up here to invite you down to the hall for dinner. If you remain up here, they will all think you are more prisoner than guest.’ Athdar extended his arm to her. ‘Worse, they will know I subjected you to my terrible temper.’

  ‘I do not remember your temper flaring at me in the past. But I thank you for that warning—I will have a care for overstepping your hospitality,’ she said and she meant it.

  Isobel had heard tales of his temper from kith and kin who visited here and she’d witnessed a few strange outbursts from him during his visits to Lairig Dubh, but never directed at her.

  But any man, be they laird or servant, could reach their limit and strike out. Though she knew her father had never lifted a hand to any woman, she’d also seen many a man who did. Embarrassing a man in front of others risked his displeasure and her being discovered here without the laird’s knowledge could be embarrassing.

  ‘Does this reluctance to anger me mean you will not defeat me in chess again?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing as he waited for her reply as though trying to discern the truth of her words.

  She walked to his side and placed her hand on his arm. ‘If losing to me again will anger you, then I could promise to let you win.’ She knew him to be jesting, as she was. ‘Truly, I feared you were angry and did not want to force my company on you in front of your people.’

  They walked down the corridor to the stairs and then down to the main floor. Before they entered the back of the hall where others had already gathered to eat, he drew her to a stop.

  ‘Isobel, we must have a care for your honour, now that you are here without my sister or your mother. So, before we go in, you should know...’ He stopped and faced her, his face once more serious. ‘We cannot meet for chess in the hall after supper. Well, not alone, we cannot.’

  Athdar was having a care for her reputation, though knowing her father as they both did, she did wonder if fear of him was the cause. Almost as though he’d read her thoughts, he laughed then and began walking once more.

  ‘Besides, if word gets back to your father that I did anything the least bit questionable regarding you, drawing and quartering would be less painful than what he would do to me.’

  They approached the table and Athdar led her to an empty seat next to his, and waited for her to sit. Those waiting greeted her and the meal was served. Strange, it seemed more companionable now without Jocelyn than when she was here. She wondered if Athdar felt pressured by her presence. She was, after all, his older sister, and had attained a position of higher power and wealth with her marriage to the MacLerie.

  Broc seemed more subdued at this meal than before, as did Athdar’s commander, Padruig. Their quietness made her realise that they were distracted, not inattentive. Looking around the table, she noticed a similar expression on the faces of several others there.

  Worried. They worried. Leaning over to Athdar, she spoke in a low voice so that only he could hear.

  ‘The men still out there—your people worry over them?’ she whispered.

  ‘Aye. Padruig’s son accompanied Jocelyn back. They wait for word.’

  She felt terrible, as though responsible for this delay, and telling herself she was not did nothing to assuage her feelings. Isobel realised that the woman next to Padruig must be his wife. Then she felt Athdar’s hand on hers under the table.

  ‘You are not the cause of their delay. If anything, you being here, talking with them, is easing their worry. Speak to Nessa there about your weaving.’

  He knew she liked to weave? Jocelyn must have shared that with him, for it was not something most men took notice of.

  ‘Nessa, did you know that Lady Isobel has a talent for weaving?’ Athdar asked.

  ‘My wife is one of the best weavers here,’ Padruig said, pride clear in his every word. ‘And our eldest is showing some of her skills, as well.’

  ‘Where is your loom?’ she asked, having not seen one here in the keep. ‘Has the wool been carded and spun yet? Or dyed?’

  Once they started talking, it continued for some time. Soon Isobel found the two of them alone at the table while the men had moved to one end of the long table and were now involved in some heated discussions—about what she could not tell.

  After some time, the table was cleared, the floors swept and the hall readied for the night—and still the men did not return. Nessa stood and bid her farewell. Walking over to her husband, she took him by the arm and pulled him aside, whispering to him with a glance or two over at Isobel. Then Padruig said something to Athdar who also looked over at her.

  She wanted to examine her gown for holes with the way the whole group began to look in her direction!

  ‘Glenna,’ Athdar called out. The young serving maid came at his call. ‘Take Lady Isobel back to her chamber.’

  As she began to follow the maid away, dismissed with a simple command, he spoke again. ‘I will send word when the men arrive.’ It pleased her that he understood she worried over their safe return.

  ‘My thanks, laird,’ she said.

  As she returned to the chamber above, she realised two things. In spite of its inauspicious beginnings, the day had some good results—the best one being Athdar’s admission that he was glad she’d not left. And she believed th
at he was beginning to see her as something other than too young or too this or too that, or just as Rurik’s daughter. Between their kiss and the way he touched her hand under the table and his attempts to ease her worries, she suspected he was thinking about her in the way she wanted him to do so—as a woman.

  She’d been so exhausted the night before that she had fallen deeply asleep within moments of settling into the bed, but this night it took more time. Time enough to realise that Glenna shared her chamber, sleeping on a pallet near the door. And that only convinced her more that she was correct about Athdar’s attitude towards her.

  * * *

  Isobel felt as though she’d slept for only minutes when the knock came on the door, telling her that the men escorting Jocelyn and her mother had returned. She dressed quickly and hurried down to the hall to learn if the fates were going to be kind—to the men and to her plan.

  * * *

  Padruig grabbed his son and dragged him into what could only be a chest-crushing embrace. Athdar gave him a chance to privately greet Tavish, named after Athdar’s father, before asking the men to give their report. It did not take long for others to arrive at the hall—the men’s families as well as some of the servants. Athdar gathered everyone at the large table and let them eat and drink before asking them all the questions he had for them.

  Just as he was about to begin, Isobel arrived.

  She was sin personified walking across his floor, just woken and looking fresh from bed. Her hair was loose and tussled and it begged him to wrap it around his fist. From the way his body reacted at the sight of her, he knew he’d made the right decision in having Glenna share the chamber with her. When he glanced over at Padruig, the man winked at him as though reading the temptation Isobel presented to him on his face.

  He rose and offered her his chair. She sat and he noticed she smiled when she saw Padruig’s son next to his father. She must be as worried for news of her mother as he was, but she waited for him to ask the questions.

  ‘Are they safe?’

  ‘Aye, laird,’ Dougal answered. ‘They made it through before the worst of the storm hit us. Gavin travelled all the way when he headed back.’ Her body relaxed at the news and he let out the breath he did not know he was holding. Jocelyn was safe.