Niall was conversing intently with Duncan—again. Ever since Duncan had arrived, the two of them had been inseparable. Niall had told her repeatedly that Duncan’s keen horse sense was far superior to anything he had ever seen. He sought his counsel often, and Duncan always welcomed Niall’s eagerness to learn. With a pang of regret, she was aware that it would not be long before Duncan and Ealasaid took their leave and traveled to Ealasaid’s sister. She enjoyed their company and would sorely miss them.
As she opened the door to the stable, she saw Declan with his head placed to Aiden’s and speaking in hushed tones. Under normal circumstances, she would have been quite surprised to see a man engaged in conversation with a horse; however, she had become quite accustomed to Declan and his many speeches with Aiden. He jumped when she reached out and patted Aiden on the neck.
“And how is Aiden this morn?”
One corner of Declan’s mouth twisted upward. “Didnae anyone ever tell ye nae to sneak up on a man?”
Rosalia’s eyes widened. “I wasnae sneaking.”
He looked as though he did not believe her. “Escaping the walls, my lady?”
“Most definitely. I cannae stay indoors any longer lest I go daft. I think Ciaran is ready to throttle me.” She laughed.
He chuckled. “I think Aiden is ready to throttle Aisling as well. Did ye ever think it just might be something to do with ye women?” He winked at her.
Seeing the amusement in his eyes, she swatted him in the arm. “Ye better cease. Ye know how Aisling gets her ire up when ye speak of us that way.”
“And why do ye think I do it?” he said, smirking.
Glancing over Declan’s shoulder, Rosalia noticed his horse saddled in the other stall. “Are the men practicing their swordplay in the bailey?” she asked in an innocent tone, scratching Aiden behind the ears.
He rolled his eyes. “I know. I know,” he said, holding up his hands in defense. “I donna feel like practicing my swordplay this day.”
“Why? ’Tis much warmer.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I donna really want to speak upon it,” he hedged and a melancholy frown flitted across his features.
“Well, mayhap ye will speak on it with Ciaran when he searches for ye to find out why ye donna practice with the men.” She raised her brow, folding her arms over her chest.
“Och, Rosalia. Aisling and I donna agree on much, but ye and Ciaran are sounding and acting much the same.” He shook his head in amusement.
“I only look out for ye. Ye know Ciaran will come searching for ye. Why donna ye practice your swordplay and be done with it? Why do ye want to battle him?” she asked, wanting to put all of the pieces together.
He paused briefly. “I go to the village,” he said with quiet emphasis.
“The village? For what purpose?”
“Rosalia,” he warned, half seriously.
“Donna Rosalia me. Why do ye go to the village?” She cocked her head to the side and waited for him to respond.
Running his hand through his hair, he moaned. “Ye and Aisling ne’er cease. And they wonder why I donna wed,” he mumbled under his breath but loud enough for her to hear. “Ye donna understand. This day is difficult for me.” He looked away from her.
“How so?” Declan had been practicing his swordplay with the men and ceased overindulging in ale, but as of late, he was always seen with his tankard full. If there was a chance she could pull the reason from him, she would try.
He fingered the latch on the stall. “My mother died on this day,” he finally spoke solemnly with sadness upon his face.
From her prior conversations with Ciaran, Rosalia knew that Declan and his mother had been very close. She was sorry for the loss he still carried with him.
“Ciaran doesnae want me to wench or get into my cups within his walls and I havenae—well, I havenae wenched. I donna want him to know I take my leave to the village. He will think I am back to my ways and I am nae. I need this one day. I will have your word ye willnae tell him,” he ordered, pointing his finger at her.
She shook her head in frustration. “And what of when Ciaran searches for ye and cannae find ye? He isnae daft, Declan.” He attempted to speak, but she raised her hand, cutting him off. “Ye know, I think ye misjudge Ciaran. I donna think he would battle with ye on this. Ye have done what he asked of ye for several months’ time. Why donna ye just tell him? Surely he would understand.”
A corner of Declan’s mouth quirked with annoyance and he rubbed his brow. “’Tisnae that simple, Rosalia. I donna need another lecture from him. I have had enough of them to last my life. He will think I am back to my ways. Besides, he knows Mother died on this day and he shouldnae seek me out. I will have your word ye willnae tell him. If he asks ye, tell him ye know naught. I will return on the morrow.” He entered the stall and she blocked his way out.
“Declan, donna put me in this place. I cannae tell untruths to Ciaran.”
He shrugged, amused at her attempts to obstruct the stall door. “Then tell him what ye will.”
She did not need to start a battle between the brothers. They had been getting along so well. “I willnae tell him, but if he asks me…”
He waved her off. “Tell him whatever ye wish. Just give me my day, Rosalia,” he said, pushing past her and leading his horse out of the stall.
“Ye will have a care. I will have your word, Declan MacGregor,” she yelled after him.
“Ye have my word. I shall see ye on the morrow,” he said, giving her his back and waving his hand in the air.
Men.
She glanced at Noonie and yearned to take him for a ride. Niall and Duncan would both have her head if he would return a muddy mess. She would need to find something else to occupy her. She carefully lifted her skirts and was making her way back across the bailey when someone grabbed her abruptly from behind.
“Didnae I tell ye it wouldnae be long before ye were outdoors?” asked Ciaran, whispering into her ear.
Pulling out of his hold, she turned around and swatted at him. “Aye, ye did. Howbeit I wish to stay out all day. I can nay longer bear the inside walls,” she moaned.
“Then donna. Let us ride to the village. I am sure Noonie wants to run,” he said, leading her back to the stable.
She stopped and avoided his eyes. “Umm… I didnae really want to go to the village this day. Do ye think we can ride around the loch instead?” she asked hopefully. “Mayhap there wouldnae be too much mud.”
“I suppose. There shouldnae be too much mud if we stay to the rocky path.” He gave her a warm smile. “Go and change into your trews and I will see to our mounts.” Taking a quick glance and observing only a few men in the bailey, she stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips to his. When she pulled away, he gave her a smoldering look that thawed the winter chill. “Go and change,” he choked out.
She made haste and donned her trews, her mind plaguing her about Declan. It tore at her insides not to speak the truth to Ciaran, but she would be bound to tell him if he asked her. She would have to pray he did not.
***
Rosalia arrived back at the stable, and Ciaran thought it was a shame she still needed to wear her cloak. He so enjoyed the view when she wore only her trews. Dresses should be outlawed. Men did not realize what they were missing. He handed her the reins and smiled. “Your mount, my lady.”
Noonie’s prancing feet almost stepped on Rosalia’s, and she jumped away from him. “My thanks, my laird. I think our mounts are both anxious to take their leave.”
“Aye. Keep a tight rein on him and donna yet give him his head lest he runs with the wind. Are ye sure ye donna want to ride to the village?” he asked, mounting his horse.
“Quite sure,” she said quickly. “I think the loch will be fine. I just need to escape these walls.”
When he received the missive from the Earl of Argyll, the bloody Campbell, he was not fooled for a moment by Campbell’s denial into believing his people were safe. King James demanded peace in the Highlands, but Ciaran would do what he must to make sure no further harm befell his clan.
Rosalia grunted as she held a tight rein on Noonie, but Noonie continued to prance. “Ciaran, I think we must return. He pulls too much on my hands.” She held up her hand, showing the imprint of the rein imbedded into her red palm.
He dismounted and approached her. He was not ready to take her back—they needed the outdoor respite. “I donna think we need to return. Ye will ride with me and we will lead Noonie.”
“Are ye sure? I donna want to trouble ye,” she said as she dismounted from Noonie.
He smiled. “I am sure. I am nae ready to return. Ye will ride with me. Come,” he said, holding out his hand to her. When she paused and still did not move, he raised his brow and folded his arms over his chest. “Rosalia, I will have the reason for what troubles ye.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “Donna be absurd, my laird. ’Tis naught troubling me.”
“Then why do ye nae want to ride with me?” he asked, his eyes sharp and assessing. There was a heavy silence, but that was fine with him. He could be just as stubborn. He would simply stand here until she spoke the tale.
She huffed and stared at her hands. Noonie’s reins held much interest to her. When he did not budge, she blurted out, “How will ye get me on your mount?” She colored fiercely.
“What do ye mean?” He stared at her, perplexed.
Rosalia glanced away from him and started to twirl Noonie’s reins between her fingers. “Your mount doesnae kneel, and ye cannae simply lift me on him,” she said quietly.
“What? I donna understand what ye speak.”
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his gaze. “Ciaran, your mount doesnae kneel, and I willnae be able to get upon his back,” she said with a flush upon her face.
He was momentarily speechless in his surprise. So that was the truth of the matter. He could not understand why she believed the size of her frame bothered him. This issue was becoming old, and he would settle this once and for all. He strode toward her and bent down slightly. Before she was able to figure out what he was about, he tossed her over his shoulder. He chuckled as she yelped.
“Ciaran! Put me down! Ye will hurt yourself,” She wiggled within his grasp.
“Will ye cease? Your fidgeting is going to make me drop ye.” Bending his knees, he playfully pretended he was going to let her fall.
She squeaked.
He laughed and pivoted her from his shoulder into his arms. “Ye underestimate my strength and your self-worth, my lady,” he murmured, brushing his lips to hers.
“Ciaran, please put me down,” she begged.
“If ye insist.” He gently dropped her to her feet and placed his hand to her cheek. Hearing her breath quicken, he knew he had to kiss her. He bent his head slowly forward, but she pulled away from him before he had the chance, giving him a slight smile of defiance.
“Come, my laird. We are wasting precious light,” she said, approaching his mount.
He grabbed her waist and easily lifted her onto his mount. “Ye see? Ye worry for naught.” Swinging up behind her, he placed his arms around her and grabbed the reins. With Noonie in tow, they rode up the mountain pass as he started to think this was not one of his best ideas.
She was too close.
He could smell her lavender scent and feel her body nestled between his legs. The gentle rocking motion of his mount tightened his groin. His arms pulled her closer. She felt so damn good. He shifted his weight, his groin heavy and painful with lust. Her cut tresses allowed easy access to the creamy expanse of her neck, and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her softness. The lass was so disturbing to him in every way imaginable. Every day, he found his feelings intensifying, and every eve, he fought to stay them. Damn, how he wanted her.
Curse his reckless brother.
That idea barely crossed his mind before another followed. He would wait until the last possible moment to tell her. He had no choice. By the end of the sennight, they would take their leave to Glengarry.
***
When they returned to the stable, they released their muddy mounts into Duncan and Niall’s care. Ciaran took his leave to review the accounts while Rosalia sought Ealasaid’s company in the kitchens. She had been taking every opportunity to spend time with her as of late. Who knew how many chances she would have left?
Rosalia walked into the kitchen and inhaled deeply. “Do ye have any biscuits, Ealasaid? I smell something wonderful.”
Ealasaid chuckled. “Ye always know when and where to find them. I just made a fresh batch there,” she said, pointing to the table. “I would grab them right quick before the laird’s brother gets to them.”
Nodding her thanks, Rosalia pulled out the bench at the table. “Aye, Aiden would have them finished before we even reached for one. What would I ever do without ye, Ealasaid?” she asked, sitting down on the bench and grabbing for a biscuit.
Ealasaid patted her on the shoulder and sat down beside her. “Ye may have to find out soon, my sweet lass.” She smiled warmly, but her eyes held a glimmer of something attune to regret.
Rosalia put down the biscuit, trying to swallow the lump that lingered in her throat. “What do ye mean?”
“Lass, we have overstayed our welcome. We are grateful for Laird MacGregor’s hospitality, but we must journey to my sister’s.” She smiled with compassion.
“Why? Ye donna have to take your leave. Ciaran would understand if ye wished to stay,” Rosalia pleaded in a panicked tone.
Ealasaid’s eyes were intelligent and she gave her a knowing look. “Rosalia, ye know we couldnae stay,” she said quietly. “Ye have been through much, my sweet lass, but ye have your whole life yet ahead of ye and I have a feeling it will be verra bright.” Ealasaid paused, studying her for a moment. “Tell me, will ye take your leave for Glengarry or will ye stay?”
Now that was the question. Rosalia had no idea how to respond. She had begun to understand her own needs and recognized the fact she needed Ciaran. Needed? Who was she fooling? She wanted Ciaran. They had reached the point where their relationship needed to be resolved or defined, but she hesitated, not wanting to admit the inevitable.
“Ye love him,” said Ealasaid with smug delight. “I can see it in your eyes, lass.”
She did not know which frightened her more, the realization that the words Ealasaid spoke were true or the fact that she could not yet admit her true feelings to Ciaran. She had known there was something special about him from the first moment she saw him at court. She clung to that memory and would never forget a single detail of his compassionate smile. He was the kindest and most handsome man she had ever met.
Ealasaid pulled her from her quiet reflections. “Lass?”
“I donna know what to speak to that,” she simply stated.
Ealasaid raised her brow. “Lass, will ye take counsel from an old woman?” She paused, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Ye clearly love him, Rosalia, and I think he is a fine and honorable man. I suggest ye speak openly to him and tell him what ye truly want and how ye truly feel. Donna make him guess. Sometimes when ye speak with men, ye must speak bluntly lest they think they know how ye feel. And believe me,�
� she chuckled, “ye donna want them thinking on their own. Trust me on this matter. I have had many years to discover this.”
Speak her feelings to Ciaran? She would never have enough strength within her to speak to such a matter. Although he showed her affection, he spoke no words of love. It was obvious he cared for her, but that was all it was or would ever be. His vow was his bond. He would not break it. Besides, Rosalia did not think her pride would ever recover if he denied her.
“Ealasaid, I know ye mean well, but I cannae speak to that,” Rosalia said in a tone that was final but, unfortunately, not final enough to fool Ealasaid.
“Donna make this more complicated than it needs to be. Do ye wish to stay at Glenorchy or nae?” Ealasaid raised her brow searchingly, waiting for a response.
Rosalia rubbed her temples and lowered her voice. “I care for Ciaran and, aye, love him. I donna wish to stay if he doesnae return the same feelings for me.”
A grin passed over Ealasaid’s features before she quickly masked it. “How do ye know how he feels if ye donna speak to it?”
Rosalia sighed. “I know he cares for me, but he speaks nay words of love. I donna want my poor heart to suffer if he doesnae feel the same. I donna think I could bear it,” she said solemnly.
“And how will ye ever know if ye donna speak to it? I have seen the way he looks at ye, lass. I think ye may be surprised by his response. I think ye make an error in judgment by nae telling him how ye feel and ’tis worth the risk ye take. If ye think upon it wisely, ye will agree,” she said as she patted Rosalia’s hand. Ealasaid rose, placing biscuits in a basket.
Rosalia pulled herself to her feet, taken aback by Ealasaid’s advice and feeling more uncertain than ever. What if Ciaran did not share the same feelings? She had a quick and disturbing thought. What if he did? She stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, and her stomach was still clenched tight when Ealasaid cleared her throat. She was clearly aware of her dilemma.
Temptation in a Kilt Page 21
