Highlander's Trials of Fire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  “What do ye say, Jonathan?” the Laird was saying. “Would ye like to spar with me now?”

  Jonathan, who was sitting in the oversized armchair by the fireplace, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Me Laird, ye say that because ye want an easy win, daenae ye?”

  “How dare ye!” Laird MacLagain boomed and Dougal, leaning against the mantle above the fireplace, barked a hearty laugh. “I am the Laird of MacLagain. It is a dishonor for me to seek a fight I ken I will win.”

  “Then why do ye bother the lad?” his brother asked, lifting a bushy brow. “When ye ken he will certainly lose?”

  The Laird took a large gulp of his drink and then brandished a broad smile. “I only wanted to test his mettle! He cannae be a war chieftain if he isnae willin’ to go up against the toughest of opponents. He’ll be killed before ye ken it.”

  “Perhaps if he were to best Dougal in a fight first,” Matthew spoke up. “Then the thought of fighting ye, Me Laird, wouldnae be so dauntin’.”

  After returning to the Castle, Matthew’s intention of sticking close to Jonet’s side for the rest of the day had been interrupted when a maid informed him that the Laird called for his presence. He had been reluctant to leave her at first, but after he had settled into the study talking with the rest of the men, Matthew was beginning to enjoy himself.

  Laird MacLagain and his brother were the same as they usually were. Talking in such booming voices that they shook the room, while always trying to get one up over the other. Matthew found it a rather amusing sight and he took up the role as the kindle to their disagreements, enjoying the competitive spirit that rose in the light of it.

  Jonathan, Matthew learned, took more of a supportive role. The Laird and Dougal were very inclusive, but Matthew found that Jonathan preferred to be quiet most of the time. He seemed to be watching all that was around him, and Matthew doubted anything passed him by unnoticed. He wondered, briefly, if he had been subject to his scrutiny when he had first arrived, nevertheless Jonathan, so far, spoke kindly to him.

  “Ah,” said the Laird. “Ye may be right. Now, Matthew, there was actually a matter I would like to speak with ye about.”

  “I have a feelin’ I ken what ye might say, Me Laird,” Matthew turned his eyes to the Laird. He had been waiting for this ever since Jonet agreed they could court. “Ye would like to ken how things are progessin’ between Jonet and I.”

  Laird MacLagain sighed. “She is me dear daughter and we have always been close, especially when she was younger. But now that she’s all grown up, she hardly tells me anythin’ anymore.”

  “I’m sure she speaks to Rinalda,” Dougal suggested. “She’s always with her.”

  “Aye, I’m sure she does, but Rinalda is as secretive as she is. I think they’ve formed a secret alliance of some sort.”

  Matthew chuckled. “Such is the bond between women, Me Laird. Especially between a Maither and her daughter.”

  Laird MacLagain sighed again. He drank deeply from his goblet until all his wine was finished with. As if by fate, a maid entered the room bearing a pitcher of what Matthew assumed was fresh wine. Matthew realized that the maid was Freya.

  She slipped silently around the room as she refilled the goblets to their brims, pandering to the Laird’s love for drinking. When she made it around to Jonathan, Matthew noticed that she lifted her eyes to look at him, her gaze growing longing, but Jonathan appeared to be too deep in thought to notice it. Perhaps, he did not always see everything that passed him by.

  Ah, well then. That is surpisin’. It seems Freya might have feelin’s for someone. Matthew resisted the urge to smile.

  Freya’s lips tightened a bit. She made her way over to Matthew and bowed her head, saying, “Forgive me, but I will have to fetch more.”

  “Aye, take yer time,” Matthew wondered briefly if there might have been something more in the look she had given Jonathan, but it had passed by so quickly that he could not be certain.

  “Now, tell me, Matthew,” Laird MacLagain said, breaking into Matthew’s thoughts. Matthew returned his attention to him, no longer paying the departing Freya any mind. “How fares yer relationship with Jonet?”

  Laird MacLagain did not seem to be the only one interested in Matthew’s response. Dougal lifted his brows in expectation and Jonathan’s gaze grew sharp and focused. Matthew felt a tiny bit of pleasure in his next words.

  “I think things have been goin’ marvelously between us. It seems she nay longer despises me so much.”

  Dougal laughed loudly. “If that is all ye need to marry a lass then I would have been married ten times over already.”

  “So ye think, Dougal,” Laird MacLagain smirked. “Though I dinnae think ye will ever find a woman like Annis. She was the only woman kind enough to overlook how ye look.”

  Dougal, as usual, was quick with his comeback. “Ye seem to forget that ye and I look very much alike.”

  “I doubt I am anythin’—”

  “Let’s nae forget,” Jonathan cut in, his voice more serious than Matthew had ever heard it, “that Matthew was sayin’ somethin’.”

  “Aye, right.” Laird MacLagain diverted his attention back to Matthew. “Do ye think she will consider marryin’ ye?”

  “It is too hard to tell. She is quite stubborn, as ye all should ken. Though, I admit that is one of her charms.”

  “Ah, would ye hear him?” Dougal grinned from ear to ear, shaking his head. “It has been some time since I’ve last felt such things. Now I only get such a rush whenever I’m huntin’.”

  “Ye dinnae get that rush when we’re sparrin’, Dougal?” the Laird asked. “Perhaps, once we are finished here, we should take it to the courtyard.”

  Dougal stood up tall, his response in the challenging tilt of his head and the Laird grinned in intense anticipation. Matthew chuckled to himself. At that moment, the door opened again, but it was not Freya who walked in. Another younger looking maid approached him with the pitcher.

  “Where is Freya?” he asked absently as she poured him his wine.

  The maid blinked, clearly not expecting to be issued a question. “She is currently assisting Miss Jonet with a matter in the scullery, Mr. McDulaigh.”

  “In the scullery?” Both the Laird and Dougal exclaimed at the same time. Jonathan only sat back with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face, appearing to be rather deep in thought.

  Matthew could not help smiling. He supposed they were all worried Jonet might create another mess in there, or worse. He lifted his goblet to his lips.

  He paused.

  It smelled the same as the one he had in his room this morning. Certainly, wine should not smell so raw and bitter? He swirled it in his goblet, studying the deep red color as if he would spot speckles of poison lurking at the bottom, but the liquid appeared quite smooth, even as every inch of his body told him that something was wrong.

  Sharply, he looked up at the maid, but she was already heading through the door. Before he could call out to her, she stopped and bowed at someone just out of sight before continuing. Jonet appeared in the doorway.

  “Good day, everyone,” she chirped. “I come bearin’ treats!”

  Matthew rose to his feet, but the maid was already too far away. He suppressed the unease swirling within him, focusing his attention on Jonet and her smiling face instead. In her hand, she held a tray of what appeared to be sweet cakes.

  Her father and uncle gathered close.

  “Did ye make these?” Dougal asked.

  “Aye, I most certainly did!” she said happily. Her eyes shone, casting a light through Matthew’s dark agitation.

  “All on yer own?” asked Laird MacLagain.

  At that, Jonet laughed nervously. Her eyes darted to Matthew, then back to her father. “Well, I have to admit that I got a little help. I dinnae think I would be able to do it on me own.”

  “I daenae doubt it,” Dougal murmured. He was eyeing the cakes as if he could not trust them.

  Jo
net narrowed her eyes. “Ye daenae think they look good, Dougal?”

  “On the contrary, they look too good. But I suppose how they taste is what really matters.” Without waiting for a response, he plucked one of the cakes from the tray and bit into it. Everyone seemed to stare at him with bated breath.

  When he took too long for Jonet’s liking, she pressed impatiently, “Well? What do ye think?”

  “I think…” Dougal made a show of swallowing, then grinning broadly. “These are one of the best cakes I’ve had in a long while. Ye really outdid yerself with this one, Jonet.”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Laird MacLagain scooped up a couple cakes into his large palm. Jonathan picked up a few as well, but he said nothing.

  “Hold on, come now!” Matthew protested when he saw they were taking it all. “Leave some for me.”

  “Actually, Matthew,” Jonet spoke up. “I have a special batch just for ye. But ye cannae have it right now.”

  “I cannae?”

  “Nay, there is somewhere we must go for now.” Jonet rested the tray on a side table and then returned to Matthew’s side. She grinned up at him, and, to his surprise, she tucked her arm into his. “I’d like ye to follow me, if you’d please.”

  “I thought ye two already went out for the day,” Jonathan spoke up. He munched slowly on his cake; his eyes unreadable.

  “And we will be going out again,” Jonet spoke firmly. “Is there something ye need me for?”

  He slowly shook his head, casting his gaze outside. “Nay.”

  “Very well then.”

  Matthew did not get the chance to decipher what had just happened before Jonet began whisking him away. He did not miss, however, the pleased looks of the Laird and Dougal.

  He kept a hand on his goblet though, to discard of it when he could.

  Chapter 18

  “Do ye intend to tell me where we are goin’ now?”

  The wind tousled Jonet’s hair, blowing annoying strands into her face. She brushed it aside, trying to keep a hold on the basket she had tucked into the crook of her arm. With a wide grin, she looked over at Matthew, who was regarding her with raised brows in question.

  “Ye daenae need to worry,” she spoke airily. “I am nae takin’ ye away to some secluded spot. I only thought it would be nice to take a trip down to the loch. It’s been a while after all.”

  “Ah, I see. And here I was secretly hopin’ that ye would take me away to a secret spot to do wicked things to me.”

  Jonet blushed furiously at the teasing nature of his voice. Though she knew he said it in jest, she could not help picturing them alone again, skin pressed against each other, lips fused, hands roaming…

  Her body responded entirely on its own. Without thinking, she veered Fenella away from him just a little bit, hoping he would not be able to see how oddly she reacted to his words. After all, it was not the first time they would be alone with each other. In fact, most of the time they were alone! Yet now, Jonet could not stop the lascivious thoughts from swarming in her head and she wondered if this was such a good idea after all.

  “Jonet?” he called. She glanced at him, then looked back ahead, noting his knowing tone. “Is somethin’ the matter? Are ye thinkin’ about somethin’ ye shouldnae?”

  “Why would ye even assume that?” she asked, trying to keep her voice under control.

  “It might be because ye are blushin’ so madly that I’m worried ye might catch a fever.”

  His words broke through her feverish haze of lust… somewhat. She huffed a laugh, casting a sidelong glance. “Ye would like that very much to be the case, wouldnae ye?”

  “I think we are both aware of what I would like.”

  “Aye, aye, ye want to marry me,” she drawled. “Ye think I am so beautiful and so kind and ye are so overcome by yer feelings that he can hardly keep it in.”

  “Nay. I only want to try those sweet cakes ye’re lurin’ me out here with.”

  Jonet gasped and he laughed loudly at the disbelief on her face. “Ye are really tryin’ to test me patience, arenae ye?” she hissed.

  He only waved her off. “Ye ken I like it when ye get mad.”

  Again, she blushed. It was outrageous how much power he had over her emotions. She had not truly been angry at him, but she had at least wanted to hold on to her mock irritation for a little while longer.

  The loch drew closer and, soon enough, they were dismounting their horses. Temper stomped furiously at the loss of his rider, but Matthew, to Jonet’s never-ending disbelief, calmed him with a stroking hand and a few soothing words. Aftewards, they continued on to the banks of the loch.

  “Oh, I have been meanin’ to ask ye,” she spoke suddenly. Freya had helped her prepare this picnic basket and had so wonderfully provided the blanket they would sit on. Of course, Jonet had not even given a blanket any thought.

  “What’s that, me love?” he asked absently, helping her to lay the blanket.

  The endearment made her forget her question. She paused, but when he glanced up at her, she shook away the warm feeling that had come over her.

  Goodness, it has been so long that I daenae ken how to act around someone I like anymore.

  “Jonet?” Matthew’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was already settling down on one end of the blanket. “Ye say ye wanted to ask me somethin’?”

  “A-ah, right.” She sat opposite him. “It is about the wine ye threw out when we were on our way to the stables. Ye dinnae like it?”

  “Oh, the wine?” Matthew waved his hand dismissively. “I dinnae realized that I carried it out with me and so I thought to get rid of it.”

  “Oh, is that it? With the way yer face looked, I thought ye were displeased with how it tasted. I think it would break me Faither’s heart if he thought ye dinnae fancy his favorite wine.”

  Matthew chuckled. “I find it hard to think anythin’ could break the Laird’s heart. Other than matters concerning ye and Rinalda, of course.”

  Jonet sighed. “I nearly forgot ye and Maither have gotten so close already.”

  “Ye daenae like that?”

  “It’s nae that I daenae like it…”

  It’s that everythin’ seems to be going so perfectly. I cannae help but wait for somethin’ bad to happen now.

  As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she shoved it aside. She had promised herself that she would not be sucked back into that dark vortex of negativity. With Matthew by her side, things felt possible again.

  “Ye daenae have to worry, Jonet,” Matthew spoke with an easy grin. “I will ask her more about ye when ye were a wee lass only when ye are nae there from now on.”

  Jonet only sighed. “That doesnae make me feel any better. But, anyhow, now that we are here…” Jonet brought the basket toward her and withdrew the sweet cakes she had wrapped. “I told ye that I would pay ye back for the sweet cakes ye got for me so here ye are. I hope ye like them.”

  “Ye ken ye daenae need to pay me back for anythin’, Jonet. I did that because I wanted to.”

  “Aye, so consider this a token of me gratitude.”

  Matthew took one of the cakes she offered him. Jonet held her breath, watching him intently as he took a large bite. He chewed slowly for a few moments and when he broke into a smile, her heart melted.

  “This is magnificent, Jonet!” he exclaimed. “Ye truly made this?”

  “Well… I had a bit of Christal’s help.” More than she was willing to admit to him. “But I’m happy it dinnae end in a failure like all me other attempts. I’ve always wanted to do well at cookin’ but I daenae think I have the talent for it.”

  “That is only one of yer many charms,” he smiled.

  “I suppose only ye would see a flaw like that as one of me charms. Come to think of it, I havenae had one meself yet.”

  As she picked up a cake, he asked, “So little faith in yer own cookin’ that ye dinnae want to risk it, did ye?”

  “Precisely.” It truly was a
s good as he said it was. Jonet reminded herself to buy something nice for Christal when she had the time. It had been a little while since she had ventured out into the village, but with her current conviction on the rumors circulating about her, she supposed a visit was long overdue.

  They enjoyed the calming breeze, offset by the afternoon sun. Within a matter of hours, the sun would set and Jonet was suddenly hit with the urge to stay out here longer than she had planned to. She wanted to watch the sky burn orange with Matthew by her side.