Hannah and the Highlander

by Sabrina York

  Something captured her attention then, something that wiped all thoughts of the cat, of her absent husband and the night they had shared, from her mind.

  “What is that smell?” she asked.

  Lana waved at a tray on the table next to her hearth.

  Hell. A full breakfast. With eggs and cheeses and … “Is that bacon?”

  Lana nodded and snagged the last piece, crunching into it with relish.

  “How did you get bacon?”

  A slender shoulder rose. “I asked. Morag is a dear, you know. She and her sister Una have served as Dunnet’s cooks forever and a day.” Lana poured two cups of tea.

  Hannah picked up a fork and helped herself to some of the fluffy eggs and then ate them all, despite Lana’s frown. “All I got were oatcakes.”

  “Hmm. I told Morag they make me ill.” A mischievous grin. “You should try that.”

  “Perhaps I shall.” She glanced at her sister, sitting there in the soft morning light looking so sweet and innocent and pure, and something rippled in her belly. It felt like concern. Though she’d been distracted last night at the feast, she hadn’t been so distracted that she’d been oblivious to Andrew’s hungry glances at Lana. Though Hannah knew she should hold her tongue, she couldn’t.

  “Lana?”

  She smiled; her face glowed with it. “Aye?”

  “I…” She sighed. “I canna help but worry.…”

  Lana quirked a brow and took a sip of tea. “Worry? About what?”

  “You.”

  A laugh. “I’m fine. Doona worry about me.”

  “I canna help it. You are here, under my charge. I would never forgive myself if…”

  “If … what?”

  “If anything happened.”

  Lana tucked her chin and fixed Hannah with a puzzled glance. “What are you talking about, dear?”

  It had to be said. And bluntly. “Andrew.”

  “What?” Lana blew out another laugh, this one of incredulity.

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, watches you, as though you were a plump rabbit and he a hungry fox.”

  “Are you saying I am plump?”

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. “You know what I mean. He intends to seduce you. I can see it.”

  Lana tapped her lips. A mischievous light danced in her eyes. “He is verra handsome.”

  Hannah clenched her fingers. “Aye. He is an attractive man, but I’ve met his sort before.”

  “His sort?”

  “The kind of man who flits from flower to flower, taking what he wants and then dances away.”

  Lana’s brow rumpled. “So am I a rabbit or a flower?”

  “Both.” A growl. “You should keep your distance from him. Papa would slay me if I allowed you to be compromised.”

  Her delicate chin firmed. “Hannah, if I’m to be compromised, or rather when, as I do hope it will happen at some point, it willna be you who allows it. It shall be my choice.”

  “Men like Andrew can be verra convincing.”

  Lana reached over to pat Hannah’s hand. “Darling, doona worry about me. I know how to handle men like that.”

  Hannah’s eyes flared. “What?”

  “I’m not a complete innocent,” she said with a sniff.

  “What-what-what are you saying?” Hannah’s heart thrummed.

  “I know how things work.”

  Och, Hannah did not like that knowing look. It was far too … knowing. “How do you know how things work?”

  Lana lifted a shoulder. “I eavesdropped on the matrons while they were carding wool.”

  “Lana Dounreay! You dinna!” It was easy to ignore the ripple of guilt that Hannah had done the same. This was a completely different circumstance. This was Lana.

  Her innocent lips curled into a wicked smile. One that made Hannah’s bowels seethe. “I discovered many things.” A wink. Holy hell. A wink! “Besides, I’ve been kissed before.”

  “What?” Hannah gaped at her sister. “Who? Who kissed you?”

  Lana pinkened. “Rory for one.”

  “Rory?” Good God. Hannah would flay him.

  “And Torquil.”

  “Torquil? The beekeeper?” Hannah gaped. Torquil had nostril hair.

  “Is there another Torquil? And Angus and Ewan and—”

  “Oh, do stop.” A ghastly thought occurred. “Lana, you havena … I mean there hasn’t been … You dinna…”

  Lana’s laugh was incongruous and a little irritating. “Of course not, Hannah. Doona be silly. They were all just kisses. Only kisses.”

  “Kisses can easily lead to something else.” She knew. Och, aye, she knew.

  “Doona fash yerself, Hannah. While I find Andrew rather attractive, and I wouldna mind a kiss from him—”

  Hannah eeped.

  “I prefer a man with dark hair.” Her eyes twinkled. “A man who isna … prettier than I am.”

  Aye. Andrew was pretty. And he knew it.

  “I still must ask you to guard yourself around him.”

  Lana studied her for a moment, taking in her concerned expression. “All right, Hannah. If it will make you rest easy, I shall.” Relief gushed through Hannah … until Lana added, “But I wouldna mind a kiss from him.”

  “Lana!”

  Her laugh echoed through the room. She patted Hannah again, though she was not mollified. “So tell me, Hannah, what are your plans for today? Your first day as a wife?” It was a clear attempt to change the topic, and Hannah allowed it. She didn’t respond, Keeping you from kissing Andrew Lochlannach, as she wished.

  She was very proud of her restraint.

  “Dunnet has notified me that Fergus is prepared to give me a tour of the castle.” She tried very hard not to allow a bite in her tone. “Would you like to come?”

  “I would love that.” Lana refilled their tea. “So Dunnet finally spoke to you?”

  Hannah sniffed. “Another letter.” She added honey and stirred with a clang that bespoke her irritation.

  “He does like those letters.”

  “Humpf.”

  Lana chuckled. “Why do you snort like that?”

  “I hate those letters.”

  “You hate them?”

  “Darling, he’s spoken but a handful of words to me in the entire time I’ve known him. And that man is my husband.”

  Lana waggled her fingers. “Words are overrated.”

  “Humpf.”

  “Is it not true that a man is measured by his actions, not his words?”

  Hannah glared at her sister, and not only because she was parroting back a maxim Hannah herself had often spouted. It was rather annoying to be in a fine fettle and have some logical and rational person attempt to calm one down. “That is hardly the point.”

  “It is precisely the point.”

  “Is it too much to ask that I have a conversation with my husband?”

  “If you want to speak to him, well, speak to him.”

  “In point of fact, I shall.” Hannah rose and brushed out her skirts. “Shall we go and find him?”

  “That would be lovely.” Lana hooked her arm in Hannah’s and they headed for the door. “I quite like him, by the way,” Lana murmured.

  “Oh? Has he spoken to you?”

  “Of course not.” Lana patted Hannah’s hand. “You know I see things differently.” It was true. When Lana described people she’d met, she spoke in terms of colors surrounding them, rather than their physical persona. Hannah had never understood that, but Lana was usually right in her assumptions about people and once she decided she liked someone she never changed her mind.

  Maybe Lana should have married Dunnet.

  Or maybe not.

  “Why do you like him?”

  “He is verra strong. Loyal. Brave.” Lana’s brow wrinkled. “I have a sense he’s been through great hardship.”

  “This is Scotland.” Everyone had been through hardship.

  “You should be patient with him.”

  “
I’ve never excelled at patience.”

  Lana didn’t respond. Probably because she knew this was true.

  With the help of a footman, they found Fergus in the morning room, a charming east-facing salon speckled with elegant Chippendales and comfortable divans. The factor was overseeing the work of a pretty young maid who was dusting a breakfront. Andrew, Hannah’s new brother-in-law, was with him.

  Apparently, it took the oversight of two grown men to assure the girl’s work was up to par.

  When Andrew spotted the sisters, he ceased his mooning at the maid and proceeded to moon at Lana. It was all Hannah could do not to growl.

  He affected a bow. “Good morning, my lady. Miss Dounreay.”

  “Good morning, Andrew. Fergus.”

  The factor bowed. “My lady. I have orders to give you a—”

  “Aye. A tour of the grounds.” Hannah had received those orders as well. “Do you know where my husband is?”

  Fergus frowned. “At this hour? Most likely in his study.”

  “Aye. And where is this study?”

  Fergus blanched, except for his scar and the tips of his ears, which showed a hint of pink. “Oh, ye canna go there.”

  Hannah blinked. A whisper of outrage skulked through her. “I would like to speak to him.”

  “He shall emerge by lunch.” Fergus attempted a smile. An unsuccessful smile.

  “I would like to speak to him now.”

  Fergus’ lips flapped. His gaze whipped from her to Andrew, who shrugged. The factor’s chin firmed. “No one interrupts the laird when he is working. And no one is allowed in the study.”

  “No one is allowed in the study?” Irritation bubbled through her. She’d never liked being told no. Never in her life had she been forbidden from doing something, especially something so … simple. She didn’t like the prospect of being prohibited from visiting a room in her new home, and on her first day in residence, no less. She shot a glare at Lana, whose eyes widened. She might have mouthed the words, Oh dear.

  “Alexander is a verra busy man.” Andrew offered a much more successful smile, but likely he’d had more practice. “When he’s not checking in with crofters, he spends most mornings closed up in the study getting through the bulk of the work. We’ve all learned not to bother him until later in the day. It is best if you wait for him to be available. In the meantime, may I show you around the castle?” He extended an arm.

  While Hannah was not pleased, she sensed the men would not budge on this. And the castle was so enormous, if she attempted to find this mysterious study on her own she would probably get lost. Clearly, the best approach would be to take the offered tour and discover the study along the way.

  It would, most likely, be the one room they didn’t show her.

  “I would love that. Thank you, Andrew.”

  Apparently, her brother-in-law was more devious than she gave him credit for, or perhaps he had deduced her intentions. For as he showed her around her new home, with Fergus trailing along, interjecting the few facts her husband’s brother had omitted about this room or that, there wasn’t so much as a glimpse of the mysterious study. There were certainly no rooms they skipped.

  But the castle was old, a meandering warren of hallways and wings. It would have been easy to deliberately skip one section or another with a visitor being none the wiser. Beyond that, Hannah had the distinct impression Andrew was leading her in circles. She resolved that she would make herself a map of the sprawling building and conduct a search on her own at some point in the future.

  She would discover Alexander’s secret hideaway and she would beard him there.

  When they finished with the tour of the castle—or, at the very least, when Andrew had tired of the roundabout—they moved on to the castle grounds. As Lana skipped toward the stables with Fergus in her wake, Hannah held back a bit. Andrew, perforce, slowed his pace as well, though it was obvious he very much wanted to hie after Lana.

  Too bad.

  Not only was Hannah determined to scuttle any opportunities for those two to be alone together; she also wanted to talk to Andrew. If she couldn’t speak to her husband, she could learn more about him from his brother. She hooked her arm in his and smiled up at him.

  He blinked in surprise. Why he blinked in surprise was a mystery. She had not been precisely curt to him this morning.

  Well, maybe a little.

  “Thank you so much for giving up your time for us this morning,” she purred.

  His Adam’s apple worked. He scuttled a glance around them and tried to untangle his arm. She didn’t allow it. “It, ah, it was my pleasure, my lady. We all want you to feel at home here.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And do you?”

  “Do I?”

  “Feel at home?”

  She studied him for a moment. “It is far too early to tell.”

  His lashes flickered. “Alexander has gone out of his way to make you welcome.”

  “I’m sure he has.” Redecorating her rooms, for one thing. “On that … May I ask you a … personal question?”

  Though the stable was shaded from the sun, cool and welcoming, Hannah didn’t step inside. Lana gave out a squeal as she discovered a clutch of newly born puppies squirming in one stall and rushed for it. Hannah preferred to remain where she was. This conversation was far too important.

  “You may ask me anything.” He said this without hesitation, but his cheeks went a little pale.

  “Your brother … he doesna speak much.”

  “Ach.” Andrew gusted a laugh and scrubbed his face. “That. Nae, he doesna. He never has.”

  “He writes me letters. About everything.”

  “He is far more at ease with the written word.”

  Her brow wrinkled at that, but she let her curiosity go in favor of her indignation. “I’m his wife.”

  “I’m his brother. I still get a letter every morning.”

  Hannah paled. She had this to look forward to? “Every morning?”

  Andrew grinned. “You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

  “I would much prefer a conversation.”

  “You may find it one-sided. Alexander is not a man of many words.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” She pursed her lips.

  Andrew’s chin firmed. “But doona make the mistake of confusing his silence with indifference. He cares. Verra deeply. About everything.”

  “I’m sure he does.” Remarkably, lightning did not strike her dead at the lie. Nor did the stable burst into flames at the dryness of her tone. Astonishing.

  Andrew set his hand on her shoulder. “Be patient with him. Alexander is a complicated man.”

  Now this was true.

  “Will he ever speak to me?”

  “Of course. As he relaxes. As he gets to know you. But he will never blether on. He’s not much of a bletherer.”

  That was some consolation, she supposed. She’d never cared much for blethering. But the occasional chat would be nice.

  As Lana finished snuggling the puppies and they moved on to inspect the mill, another question nagged at Hannah.

  “Andrew?”

  “Aye, my lady?”

  “Why did he marry me?”

  Andrew’s friendly expression closed down. “That, my lady, is a question you shall have to ask him.”

  It took great effort not to growl at Andrew’s disobliging response.

  Still, the sound she made, deep in her throat, could easily have been interpreted as one.

  * * *

  Alexander’s fingers tightened on the sill as he stared from the window of the turret down at the stable yard. His office was situated in the old solar of an ancient Lochlannach baron and took up the whole of the top floor of the tower. The room was circular and had windows on either side, so the laird could survey the north and south.

  Unfortunately, that meant he had a clear view of the stable yard. And Andrew. With Hannah.

  It was illogical for Alexander to be jealous of
his brother as he guided his new wife around the castle grounds. He could have done as much—he was her groom, after all—but fear had sent him scurrying from her bed and up into his office.

  Not that last night hadn’t been the most splendid experience of his life. It had. She had sated him in ways he’d not known he required sating.

  He’d awoken at dawn and stared down at her delicate features, stroking the lines of her face with a gentle finger, frightened to death that she would awake. That those eyes would flutter open and she would gaze up at him and speak. If she spoke to him, he would have to respond. The prospect made his blood go cold.

  Frustration and rage lashed at him. He hated the demon that clung to him with sharp, hoary claws. How he would love to be free of it, but he didn’t know how to break the chains.

  In his naivety, he’d thought after having her, loving her, the ball in his throat would dissolve, the words would flow. He had imagined that once they’d joined, they would be as one.

  That had not happened. The opposite, in fact. The closer he’d come to her, the more his emotion and need for her flowered, the worse his affliction had become.

  Ah, how he wanted to be with her, spend every moment with her. But therein lay the danger. He couldn’t guard his words forever. Sooner or later he would slip. Sooner or later she would discover the truth, or suspect it. He was frightened to death that when she found out about his past, his weakness, his curse, she would be revolted. She’d married him thinking he was a strong, indomitable protector. He dreaded the day when she discovered what he really was.

  So he’d slunk away to his tower office—a room that had once been his sanctuary but right now felt very much like a prison. Or maybe his fear was the real prison.

  He’d slunk away to hide from her, this magnificent woman who had so completed him the night before. He’d left her, ostensibly to work.

  But the work, or his concentration, at the very least, had evaded him.

  He could only think of her.

  And when he’d wandered to the window for a breath of fresh air, there she was, in the bailey, with Andrew. Chatting. As though conversation was not the most difficult thing in the world.

  Then again, to the two of them, it wasn’t.

  Alexander wanted nothing more than to spend time with her.