Temptation in a Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  Rosalia’s eyes widened and she heard herself swallow. She did not find joy in having the obvious confirmed. There was an awkward silence, and she gave a silent prayer of thanks when Aisling changed the subject.

  “Ye also met Declan?” She gazed at Rosalia and smiled as if they shared some great secret.

  “Aye.”

  “Declan is the youngest. I am sure ye already have an opinion, and it would probably be correct. Most of us are fairly harmless, though.”

  Rosalia smiled. “He is much like my brother, James.”

  “Ye have a brother?”

  “Well, he isnae my blood brother. We grew up together and he is my family.”

  Aisling gave her a knowing look. “I have three brothers. All of them rogues. Ye should have seen the time they gave Aiden when he courted me.”

  “Three brothers? I can only imagine if they are as protective as James. If ye donna mind me speaking as such, ye and Aiden seem verra happy and verra much in love.” Rosalia could not stay the slight ring of jealousy in her voice.

  Aisling’s smile broadened. “’Tis the truth. Why would I mind? Aiden is wonderful.” She paused. “Tell me. Do ye have someone, Rosalia?”

  “Nay,” she spoke softly, shaking her head.

  “How is it that ye came upon our laird?”

  “Ah, ’tis a verra long tale,” Rosalia hedged. A tale she did not really feel the need to share with Ciaran’s sister by marriage at the moment.

  “Ye know, Rosalia, I think we will be friends. Ye can speak to me freely.” Aisling gave her a warm smile and a little encouragement.

  Rosalia weighed her options. Aisling was Ciaran’s sister-by-marriage and he apparently trusted her. She supposed she did not have to speak the whole tale. Besides, she could use a woman friend. She’d never had one and it would be advantageous to have one now. With a new sense of resolve, she intentionally lowered her guard. “I was upon my horse and blacked out. Donaidh and Seumas discovered me and took me back to camp.”

  Aisling regarded her with a somber curiosity. “Surely there is more to the tale.”

  “Your laird tended to my injuries. He will take me to Glengarry when ’tis safe to travel,” she muttered uneasily.

  A soft gasp escaped Aisling. “Glengarry? What is in Glengarry? ’Tis verra far north in the Highlands.”

  “My family.” Shifting in her seat, Rosalia became slightly uncomfortable. She was not sure how much to disclose.

  “Why are ye so far from your family?”

  “My seanmhair lives in Glengarry and was a MacDonell before she wed.” Rosalia paused, glancing down at her hands. “I am an Armstrong and from Liddesdale,” she finally relented.

  Aisling had a look of attentiveness upon her face. “Liddesdale? I donna know that.”

  “’Tis verra close to England’s border.” Rosalia stirred uneasily in the chair.

  “And ye were riding alone from Liddesdale to travel to Glengarry? I envy your courage, Rosalia. I know the dangers of traveling. I cannae even imagine journeying with nay one to accompany me. Ye must have been verra frightened. I would have been verra frightened.”

  “Aye.” Rosalia smiled sadly.

  “It must be some tale to make ye go to such lengths. Does it have anything to do with your bruises?” Aisling held a sympathetic look upon her features, and when Rosalia did not immediately respond, Aisling slapped her hands on her thighs. “Ye know? I think I must rest again. Do ye mind assisting me to the bed?”

  Rosalia rose. “I donna mind.” She walked Aisling to the bed and propped up a pillow at her back.

  “My thanks. ’Tis much better,” she said, adjusting herself into a more comfortable position.

  “Do ye want me to seek Aiden for ye?”

  Aisling’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Ye arenae yet taking your leave, are ye?”

  Rosalia glanced nervously around the room. “I thought ye needed to rest.”

  “Aye, I need to lie down. I am nae dying.” She patted on the bed beside her. “Come. Join me and we will speak.” After a brief hesitation, Rosalia sat as straight as an arrow on the edge of the bed. “Donna be so formal. Sit and relax. Ye will be here for a while, and we need to get acquainted.” Positioning a pillow, Aisling gestured for her to sit down next to her.

  Rosalia moved herself further onto the bed and leaned against a pillow, placing her feet quickly to the floor. “My slippers. I will take them off.”

  “Donna worry upon it. Aiden crawls upon this bed with his boots on constantly. The bed will survive your slippers.” Aisling ran her hands through her tresses. “I cannae wait to remove myself from this chamber,” she groaned.

  Placing her feet back upon the bed, Rosalia laughed. “How much longer?”

  “I escape on the morrow.”

  Glancing around Aisling’s bedchamber, Rosalia saw it was smaller than her temporary bedchamber. Female touches were throughout the room, such as books and flowers, but she also noticed traces of Aiden. His boots and a sword leaned in the corner, making his presence seem so permanent. They both had a place they shared and called their own. Aiden and Aisling were fortunate to be wed and have a love match.

  “So what do ye enjoy doing?” Aisling asked, grabbing her tankard from the bedside table.

  “I enjoy riding. My horse, Noonie, enjoys it as well. He loves to splash in the loch.”

  “Well, he came to the perfect place. Look around ye. Water is everywhere. Luck is on your side. My horse, Aiden, doesnae like the water.” As if she caught her slip, Aisling chewed her lower lip.

  “Aiden?” Rosalia chuckled.

  “Aye. I will give ye the tale, but Aiden gets annoyed with me when I speak it. ’Tis just between us?”

  Rosalia nodded her head in agreement. How could she not?

  “I couldnae think of a name for my horse, which was a gift from my father. One day the beast halted and ceased to go further because there was a stream of water. For some reason, he doesnae like the water and refused to cross it. He wouldnae budge. I told him he was just as stubborn as Aiden and—well, there ye have it.”

  Rosalia brought her hand up to stifle her giggles, tears glistening in her eyes. “Och, what did Aiden speak to that?”

  Aisling shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “What could he speak? ’Tis the truth and he knows it.”

  Now Rosalia laughed with sheer joy. This actually felt quite nice. For once, she did not have to worry about what to say and could be herself. Thinking upon it, she never had another woman to speak openly with. Visibly relaxing, she sat back and started to enjoy the warmth of the company. “And what do ye enjoy, Aisling?”

  “Well, I know this may sound daft, but I so enjoy spending time with Aiden. We have so much fun and laughter together and enjoy sparring back and forth.”

  “It seems that way. I am joyful for ye.” Rosalia spoke with sincerity.

  “So tell me. How do ye like Glenorchy thus far?”

  “’Tis truly beautiful. I have ne’er traveled to the Highlands before, and there are many beautiful sights.”

  “And beautiful men.” Aisling chuckled.

  “Pardon?” Rosalia was caught off guard by her newfound friend’s comment.

  “Rosalia, I am wed, but I am nae dead. How do ye find our handsome Highland men or mayhap one particular Highland laird?” asked Aisling, raising her brow questioningly.

  Glancing down at her hands, Rosalia was sure she blushed. “Everyone is verra kind to me,” she hedged.

  “Mostly everyone is kind. Have ye seen the view upon the parapet yet?”

  Rosalia shook her head. “Nay.”

  “’Tis wonderful when the sun goes down. Mayhap our laird will take ye. Aiden willnae let me go there alone for fear of me falling to my death. I tell him he should have fear of me pus
hing him off.”

  They were laughing hard when Aiden walked into the room.

  He hesitated, measuring them for a moment. “I donna know if I should run or hide. ’Tis ne’er a good sign when Aisling… are ye plotting against me, Wife?” He spoke with a trace of laughter in his voice. Standing to his full height, he simply folded his arms over his chest and waited.

  “Ye are far too suspicious, Husband,” Aisling scolded him.

  “And I learned to be that way from my experience with ye,” he countered.

  Rising quickly, Rosalia felt out of place. “Donna let him frighten ye off,” said Aisling.

  “Nay, I should let ye rest.” Rosalia ambled toward the door and stepped around the huge mass that was Aiden.

  “Visit with me later? I will have your word,” Aisling ordered.

  “Ye have my word.” Nodding at Aiden, she walked out and shut the door.

  ***

  Ciaran sat behind his desk in the solar and reviewed the accounts with his steward to ensure everything was in order. The desk was one of his most prized possessions. Remembering the countless hours his father had sat behind this same piece of furniture studying the accounts, he wondered idly if his father would be pleased with his decisions.

  He stood, stretching out his legs as he closed the books. Praising his steward, he was pleased with his competency. Everything had been kept in meticulous order while he was at court, and he was thankful to have dependable men. His coffers were full; his walls still stood; and everyone was safe. Now if he could only have his reckless brother—well, not be so reckless. Perhaps then he could finally focus on his own life.

  Ciaran was hesitant to admit that Rosalia consumed his thoughts. He was not even sure why. The lass had been through much and he had yet to hear a single complaint—well, other than about the chamber he had assigned to her. Her courage and determination were like a rock inside her. Without a doubt, she had a purpose and would travel to Glengarry with or without him. Her strong stubborn streak drove him mad.

  She reminded him a lot of… himself. Regardless, he had no time for foolish fancies. His vow to his father was unbreakable. He would see to Declan before settling himself with a wife—a duty he would complete, even if it killed him. There was no promise, however, that blood would not be shed in the process. Leaving his solar, Ciaran walked through the great hall and stopped suddenly in his tracks.

  Sitting in the laird’s chair, his chair, on the dais was Declan. His head was rolled back, his eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted. One hand was on his tankard and he was already in his cups. If he was already passed out at this time of day, Ciaran was going to kill him. There would be bloodshed in the middle of the great hall, no less.

  “Declan!” he bellowed. A few choice curses might have escaped his mouth.

  Raising his head, Declan broke into a leisurely smile.

  “Come,” Ciaran bit out, gesturing for him to follow. There was no time like the present to speak with his brother about his reckless behavior.

  “I just did, my liege.” Pushing back Ciaran’s chair, Declan extended his hand to a serving wench who stood up from under the table. Glancing up at her, he flashed a smile of thanks and patted her bottom as she hurried off. “And how is his lairdship?” Declan slurred, raising his tankard in mock salute.

  Ciaran approached the table in disgust. “I havenae even returned a day’s time. Ye are already a drunken sot and wenching within my walls.”

  “Now, Brother… I ensured that your walls stood strong while ye were at court doing,” he flicked his fingers with an air of indifference, “whatever ’tis ye do. Ye could at least be grateful.”

  He was going to kill him. “Grateful?” Ciaran’s voice hardened ruthlessly. “Declan, ye are destroying yourself. Ye wench and drink until ye pass out. Mayhap one day ye will even get yourself killed,” he spat.

  Declan waved him off. “Nay, my lairdship. How can I be killed when I have your greatness to protect me?” A flash of humor crossed his features.

  “Keep as ye are doing and I will surely be the one to kill ye, Brother.” Ciaran spoke through clenched teeth.

  He waved him off. “Now donna go and get your kilt all twisted, Brother.”

  They stared at each other through a heavy silence. Declan needed to wake up. One day he would hurt himself. Maybe not intentionally, but Ciaran could not chance having his dim-witted brother cause harm to someone else as well. He was a threat to himself and others, and the most dangerous part was that he did not even know it. While Ciaran was deep in thought, Declan made the mistake of speaking.

  “Ye know? I have been thinking, your greatness,” he said, tapping his finger to his chin.

  “Well, there is a first time for everything,” Ciaran retorted in cold sarcasm.

  Declan ignored his brother’s words, a small smile tipping the corner of his mouth. “I should find me a sweet lass who will tame my wild heart,” he slurred.

  “Declan, I donna think any lass would be up to that challenge.” Ciaran’s response held a note of impatience.

  “Nay? What of Rosalia?” His eyes grew openly amused.

  Ciaran laughed to cover his annoyance. “What of Rosalia?”

  “Think ye she would tame my wild heart?”

  “Nay, I donna. I think she might place a dagger through it. Ye leave off Rosalia,” he ordered, speaking in a tone that made the fiercest of his men jump quickly to do his bidding. “I suggest ye find your path, Declan, with much haste.” Turning his back on his brother, Ciaran growled. With mounting frustration, he sought Aiden.

  When Ciaran knocked on his brother’s bedchamber door, Aiden bid him enter. Ciaran swung open the door to see his brother was sitting on the bed with Aisling—with his boots on. Ciaran was surprised she was not bellowing at her husband for that, considering she hounded him about everything else.

  “Aisling, ye look well,” said Ciaran, grabbing a chair and placing it beside the bed.

  “As I’ve told Aiden repeatedly, I feel well enough to escape my chamber.”

  “And ye will go out on the morrow as we discussed,” Aiden chided her.

  She rolled her eyes and Ciaran redirected his attention to assist his brother. “The new MacGregor is a strapping laddie. I see he has your red tresses. With much luck, he has your ire as well.”

  Aiden coughed and Aisling folded her arms over her chest. “And what does that mean, my laird?”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I only mean to say he will be a fierce MacGregor warrior.”

  She visibly relaxed. “Aye, as is his father.”

  Ciaran coughed. “There is that.” He tried desperately to suppress his laugh. Now was probably not a good time to mention that he could take Aiden to task with one hand tied behind his back. “Did ye meet Rosalia?” he redirected.

  “Aye. She came and we spoke,” said Aisling.

  He nodded. “My thanks. I am sure it was comforting for her to have a woman to speak with.”

  “Rosalia may speak with me anytime. I like her a lot.” She studied him intently. “She has been through much.”

  “She told ye?” he asked, surprised.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I am sure I donna have the entire tale, but it must have been terrible enough to have her attempt to travel to Glengarry alone, especially as a woman. Do ye plan to take her to Glengarry then?”

  “Aye, when ’tis safe for travel.”

  There was a heavy silence during which Aisling had a look of determination upon her face. Ciaran suspected this did not bode well for him. Why did he get the feeling this was the calm before the storm? “Rosalia said she met Beathag.” And there it was. Folding her arms over her chest, she waited for him to respond.

  Why did Aisling always make him feel as though he was being scolded by his mot
her? He had to admit that her actions took him by surprise. She’d become quickly defensive of Rosalia, and he detected a hint of censure in her tone. “And what did she speak of?”

  Aisling leaned back, studying him. “Ye should have shielded her more from your leman,” she suggested, simply raising her brow.

  When Ciaran glanced at Aiden for help, his brother only shrugged his shoulders helplessly. It was a sad day when a MacGregor was more afraid of his wife than his laird. “I told Beathag we are done,” Ciaran said, not comfortable explaining his actions to Aiden’s wife. After all, he was laird. He didn’t need to give an explanation to his sister-by-marriage, but he was not in the mood to be lectured—or tortured. Reluctantly, he chose the easier path.

  “Then ye are free to take Rosalia as your leman,” Aisling simply stated.

  “What?” he gasped. “Rosalia willnae be my leman. She is… What I mean to say is… She is—”

  “And what exactly is she, my laird? Since ye placed her in the lady’s chamber, I take it she is to be your wife,” said Aisling as she retorted tartly.

  “My wife?” he choked out.

  “Aye,” she said with a smug look upon her face. “Ye care for her.”

  “Aye,” he answered hesitantly. “She has been through much.”

  “But yet ye place her in your mother’s chamber, and I cannae help but wonder why that is.” She gave him a pointed look.

  Ignoring the mocking voice inside that made him wonder why he’d placed Rosalia in that particular chamber, he repeated to himself that she was injured and he wanted her to be comfortable—nothing more. “Aisling, she will be with us until we travel to Glengarry. I placed her in the most comfortable chamber since she will be with us for some time. Donna read more into this. There willnae be a wedding, so put away your scheming ways. As ye both know, I made a vow to Father to see to Declan.” He swung his gaze to Aiden. “Cannae ye keep your wife controlled?”

  “Controlled, my laird? Ye have obviously ne’er been in love. I have as much control of Aisling as she has upon me,” he said.

  “And that isnae much,” she said, elbowing Aiden in the side.