Temptation in a Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hear me, Rosalia?”

  “Aye,” she answered, defeated.

  After a hushed stillness, her father spoke. “Do as your mother commands and all will be well.”

  “Aye, Father.”

  Rosalia pulled herself to her feet and started to clear the table, pausing to wipe her bloodied nose. Glancing up, she saw James, the captain of her father’s guard, standing frozen at the entrance of the great hall. His grave expression told her all too clearly what he had witnessed. Rosalia face reddened with humiliation, and she kept her eyes down to the task at hand.

  She spent the remainder of the day avoiding him. Several times he tried to capture her attention, but she pretended not to notice him. Rosalia recognized that her behavior was childish, but frankly, she did not have the energy to deal with James. Between worrying about her future and preparing for Lord Dunnehl’s visit, she was exhausted.

  Rosalia was finally crawling into bed for another restless night when a familiar voice whispered her name through the door. It was senseless to ignore him. She donned a blanket and opened her bedchamber door. Sneaking a quick peek and observing no one in the hall, she walked out quietly and gently closed the door.

  All she needed was to have a servant catch her sneaking about. Then she remembered that Ealasaid, the cook, was the only servant in quarters, and she silently chuckled.

  Ealasaid was like a grandmother to her, and James, irksome as he was, was her best friend. Never did she have a romantic notion about him, unless she counted the time she made him kiss her to see what it was like. What a terrible kiss. Sharing a romantic kiss with someone who was like a brother was not something Rosalia desired ever to repeat.

  Nightfall had arrived some time earlier and the main torches were extinguished. There were only a few lit, but she could have found her way even in the dark, having walked this path so many times. Climbing the steps to the parapet, she called his name.

  “God’s teeth, woman, hush! I am here. Remind me ne’er to take ye into battle. The enemy would hear ye trampling from a distance before ye even got close enough to draw your sword,” said James with a trace of laughter in his voice. “Be thankful I havenae yet taken my sword to ye.” He smirked, tapping her playfully on the arm. “Howbeit the fates have tempted me so.”

  Rosalia pointed a finger at him. “Annoying man—be truthful. The many words that spew from your cheek would put your enemy to sleep. Ye wouldnae even have to draw your sword. Ye would simply bore them to death,” she said, satisfaction pursing her mouth.

  She watched him through the torchlight, his ash-blond locks reflecting the light. Unsheathing his sword, he leaned it against the stone wall. His expression stilled and grew serious. “Are ye hurt, Rosalia?”

  She glanced away and out into the darkness. “’Tisnae as bad as the others. My head aches, but I shall be fine.”

  James approached her and his eyes widened with concern. Raising his hand, he turned her head toward the torchlight. Gently brushing her cheek, he sighed.

  Clutching her blanket, Rosalia stared out into the darkness. With a shiver of vivid recollection, she recalled the attractive man with the charming smile. “I saw a man at court. I couldnae breathe, and my heart was beating so fast when he looked at me. I have ne’er felt that way before. He was the most handsome man I ever laid eyes upon.”

  Her musings were interrupted by his smirk. “Donna speak untruths. Ye know I am the bonniest man ye have ever laid eyes upon.”

  She swatted at him. “Cease, ye rogue.”

  “Did ye speak with him?” he asked her searchingly.

  Rosalia shook her head. “Nay. When he heard Mother scolding me, the smile he offered was only one of pity.” She spoke regretfully, pausing a moment to remember him. “Did ye hear, then? They want to offer my hand to this Lord Dunnehl. Do ye know him?”

  James hesitated, measuring her for a moment. When the sound of laughter approached from a distance, he reached out and touched her arm. “The guards come. Quickly, back to your chamber.”

  ***

  After a night of tossing and turning and a tiring day of preparing for Lord Dunnehl’s arrival, Rosalia would be paraded like livestock. Perhaps he would think her midriff too big and she would be unacceptable for breeding—one could only hope. Shaking her head, Rosalia willed away her dark thoughts. She pulled at her gown and rechecked her hair. There was nothing further she could do. The time had come, whether she was ready or not.

  Taking a deep breath, Rosalia hesitantly approached the great hall. The sound of her mother’s laughter made her face turn grim. It was obvious she was trying to impress the man by showing him the fine tapestries. There may be nothing left in the coffers, but they had the finest of wares. Her mother was quite proud of that fact.

  Glancing up upon her approach, Lord Dunnehl ambled toward Rosalia in a leisurely manner. “My lady, a pleasure to see you again.” He gave her a low bow and she extended her hand. “Your beauty is exquisite. Clearly, she gets it from you, Lady Armstrong.”

  “So ye have said,” Rosalia mumbled under her breath, trying with all of her strength not to roll her eyes.

  “You flatter me, my lord,” said her mother, her eyes glowing with enjoyment.

  “Are you injured, my lady?” he asked Rosalia searchingly.

  When she clamped her jaw tight and lifted her brow, her mother quickly explained, “She fell from her mount.”

  “Most unfortunate. My apologies for your discomfort.”

  While her mother uttered meaningless chatter, Rosalia quietly reflected.

  “Rosalia would love to show you the gardens, my lord.” Her mother gave her a pointed look.

  “The pleasure would be mine, my lady.”

  He extended his arm, and Rosalia cleared her throat awkwardly. “Ye and Da are joining us?”

  “Surely ye donna require a chaperone. Lord Dunnehl wishes time with ye. A walk in the garden will do ye some good. Besides, the captain of my guard is on watch out there if ye want for anything.” Her father narrowed his eyes at Lord Dunnehl.

  Having no choice, Rosalia reluctantly took his arm. As they entered the gardens, she glanced up as James walked the parapet. “Have ye… you traveled far, my lord?” She wished her mother would not insist she mask her Highland brogue. It made it much more difficult to carry on a conversation, and she was nervous enough.

  “After court, I traveled to my Northumberland home and came from there.”

  She was instantly wide awake. “I find the courtly appeal fascinating. I understand King James is attempting to tame the Highland barbarians. I personally donna… do not think they are barbarians at all. They fight amongst themselves to keep land that has been rightfully theirs for generations. I admire their courage and their honor,” she spoke eagerly.

  “And what does a woman know of courtly matters? I can assure you, my dear, those men are barbarians. Why don’t we speak to the matter at hand, shall we?” Lord Dunnehl stopped and inclined his head, holding out his hand for her to sit on a bench. He glanced up at the parapet before he took his seat next to her.

  Taking a deep breath, Rosalia tried to command her emotions to order. “And what matter is that?”

  “I am aware you speak freely. Your father has said as much. I do not seek such qualities in a wife. However, I am in need of a wife and you are in need of a husband. More so, I am in need of an heir and I am not getting any younger. We will have an open marriage, and you will be free to do as you will as soon as you provide my heir. I understand the coffers are low, and I am willing to bargain with your father.”

  Her jaw dropped and she gave him a sidelong glance of utter nonbelief for speaking so bluntly.

  He chuckled nastily and forcefully pulled her head toward him. Vehemently, he smacked his lips upon hers. As Rosalia felt bile rise in
the back of her throat, he finally broke the kiss. “You may bring that fire into our bed… and I will show you how thoroughly I can put it out. I like my women with some spirit.”

  Breathless with rage, she sprang from the bench and slapped his hands away. “I believe ’tis enough, my lord. My sire awaits us in the great hall.” She flashed him a look of disdain and stormed off.

  He quickly caught up with her. “I shall have speech with your father on the morrow. I wish to wed quickly and return to London. I know you will be looking forward to our marriage bed as well, my dear.” His gaze rested on her breasts.

  He was the foulest of beasts.

  Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough. When they entered the great hall, Rosalia thundered past her mother, her temper barely controlled. “I must retire. I bid ye good sleep.” Hefting her skirts, she ran up the stairs to her bedchamber and slammed the door.

  ***

  Rosalia awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. How could her mother expect her to wed such a man?

  Fierce pounding upon her door made her jump. “Rosalia, open this door at once! I will not ask again,” ordered her mother in a clipped tone. Pulling herself from the bed, Rosalia unlatched the door and stepped back as her mother pushed through the doorway. “Lord Dunnehl has offered for your hand and we are most pleased.”

  “Aye, I can see with my own eyes how verra pleased ye are with this match,” she bellowed.

  Her mother was surprisingly calm.

  “Come, Rosalia, your father awaits us in the study.” She lifted her hand and gestured for her daughter to follow.

  Rosalia trailed after her mother in a trance-like state. The first part of her life had been horrid, but she refused to have the last part of it be the same. This was one fight she could not, would not lose. When she entered the study, her father was seated behind his dark wooden desk. He gestured for them to sit and folded his hands in front of him.

  There was a heavy silence.

  Sitting forward, he peered at her intently. “Rosalia, as ye know, Lord Dunnehl has offered for your hand and has returned to his home. Once he comes back with the bride price and the banns are posted, ye will be wed in the chapel. He wants to take his leave shortly after to his home in London.”

  She clenched her jaw, fighting for collectedness.

  “Rosalia, you will absolutely adore London. There are many advantages to living there. Once you provide Lord Dunnehl with his heir, you will be free to do as you will. That is all he seeks from you,” said her mother with a proud smile.

  Rosalia glanced back and forth between the two of them in awe. It was apparent they waited for her response, and she was more than happy to oblige.

  ***

  James knocked once and called her name. When she did not answer, he made another attempt. “Rosalia, how do ye fare?”

  She slammed her trunk shut and tried not to flinch. “James, I cannae have speech with ye at the moment.”

  “Are ye unwell? Let me in.”

  “Mother and Fath—”

  “Are below stairs. Let me in or I will break down this door, Rosalia. Now,” he ordered with a warning in his voice. She unlatched the door and he swung it open. He strode in and glanced around, studying her chamber. “What was that shuffling I heard?” he asked suspiciously.

  She gave him her back and could not find the strength to look at him.

  “Rosalia…” He reached out and touched her arm. When she winced, he stepped around her and pushed the hair back from her face. “Och, lass, what has befallen ye? Look at me, Rosalia.” His voice caught in his throat.

  “’Tis naught. I am fine.” She closed her eyes in a futile attempt to hold back her tears. “’Tis my own fault. I spoke in truth to Mother and Father. Father…”

  He embraced her lightly while she sobbed.

  She pulled back slowly. “James, I must be alone. Ealasaid brought a tray and I only wish to go to bed. We can speak on the morrow. Please, James,” she said, gazing at him with despair.

  He hesitated, his face full of anguish and concern. “Aye, lass, ye rest. Do ye have a salve for your bruises?”

  “Aye, I have some. Please, I must get rest,” she insisted.

  Finally able to convince James to take his leave, she approached her trunk. Carefully and slowly, she lifted her bundle and placed it on the bed. She sat down and removed her clothing, wincing where it rubbed her ribs. She pulled her dirk from her sack, drawing strength from the feel of it in her hand. She could do this. She had to. It was the only way. There was no turning back now. She leaned over the washbowl and placed the dirk at the base of her neck. One glance at her bruises in the reflection of the water gave her all the confidence she needed. She closed her eyes and cut deeply.

  A clump of hair fell into her hand. She tossed it into the fire. She made another deep cut. Her hair was so thick. Why had she thought it would cut easily? She gathered the remaining hair clippings and threw them into the fire. Lifting her arms, which felt as though they were strapped with heavy weights, she bound her breasts and ribs the best she could. The strips she made from her old day dress worked perfectly, but the task took forever. She finally managed to pull on her tunic and don the trews James had given her to practice swordplay. A sharp pain radiated through her side, and she had yet to pull on her boots. She sat down, inhaled deeply, and bent to fasten them.

  When Rosalia positioned herself upright, she fought a wave of nausea. Giving herself a moment, she packed the food from the tray Ealasaid had so graciously brought her. Holding her breath, she bent to secure her dirk inside her boot. Once she threw on the hat she had borrowed from the stable boy, her disguise was complete. She hesitated, taking one last glance around her bedchamber. She would not miss it. What was there to miss?

  Opening the door, Rosalia glanced down the hall. Thankfully, James had listened to reason and left her alone. She discreetly descended the back stairs to the stables. There was no one about, but she could not be too careful. The stable master, Duncan, would be in the kitchens with Ealasaid. The two of them were inseparable.

  Noonie stomped his feet and whinnied upon her approach. “Shh… we will go for a ride, Noonie, but ye must be quiet.” Rosalia managed to saddle her horse and attach her bundle. Grabbing a couple of woolen blankets, she securely fastened them to the saddle. A sharp pain attacked her ribs and she mentally willed it away. There was no time. She needed to move.

  She was about to pull Noonie from the stall when she heard a whimper. “Magaidh…” She placed her head to Noonie’s, knowing in her heart she could not take her pup. Although Rosalia’s heart was breaking, Magaidh would be much safer here with Duncan.

  Leading Noonie from his stall, she crept through the back of the garden. The guards would not see her from this angle. She was sure of it. Rosalia made her way to the edge of the forest. The air was warm and the moon was full. She should be able to travel a fair distance this eve.

  Standing to the left, she pulled Noonie’s mane, the command for him to kneel. Praise the saints for Duncan’s training. Rosalia pulled herself upon the horse’s back. The pain was excruciating but she managed to secure her seat. Another swift kick and they were off.

  When she reached the path toward the loch, she turned north. She would continue to ride into the Highlands, knowing her mother and father would never search for her there. She would seek her seanmhair in Glengarry and pray she would take her in.

  Seanmhair was never permitted as a topic of discussion. She often wondered what Father’s mother had done, but in her heart Rosalia would always love her. Seanmhair would send messengers upon occasion who would seek her out and deliver notes or gifts. It seemed Rosalia was never far from her grandmother’s thoughts—well, she prayed that still rang true.

  At least she managed to get a few hours’ head start. When she could no longer hold her s
eat and every bone in her body ached, she needed to stop. She would pause only a moment to rest and then continue on her way. Rosalia led Noonie into a small clearing. This would have to do. As she tugged on his mane to kneel, she slid from his back and fell hard to the ground with a heavy thud. That was the last she remembered before she welcomed the blackness.

  Three

  For well over a fortnight, Laird Ciaran MacGregor of Glenorchy had ridden his men hard to flee the madness of the English court. Now back in Scotland, they were all restless and tired, but bound and determined to reach Glenorchy in just a few more days. Ciaran could not wait to return home, sleep in his own bed, and eat at his own table. When his mind filtered back to his leman, Beathag, his memory of her warm thighs and ample bosom made him shift in his seat. He sorely missed Glenorchy. He would continue until he or his men dropped.

  After he had had to spend what felt like an eternity at court, his reckless brother had best have everything in order upon their arrival. Fortunately, the bloody Campbells could not have caused too much grief in his absence since they were in attendance at court as well. The greedy lot continued to hold King James’s ear, but Ciaran refused to play such games.

  However, he was somewhat relieved that his liege held both clans accountable for the skirmishes; at least his head would not be alone on a pike. Expressing his intense displeasure, King James warned them to keep peace in the Highlands or suffer the consequences of their actions. Ciaran had no concerns with his liege’s demands as long as the bloody Campbells stayed away from his land and his people.

  Aiden slowed his mount and reined in beside him. “My laird, we have been riding for hours this day. Do ye nae think we should stop and rest the horses?”

  “What is wrong? The horses are fine. Do ye wish to stop and rest?”

  “Well…” Aiden murmured, shrugging his shoulders.

  Ciaran gave him a pointed look. “What is wrong, brother?”