by Mary Wine
She laughed. It was low but full of appreciation for how well he’d maneuvered her into entering his chamber. She swept into the center of the chamber and offered him a graceful courtesy.
“I concede the victory, Quinton.” She straightened up. “At least as far as getting me to enter yer chamber on me own.”
He flashed her a devilish grin, and its playfulness made him too handsome by far. That was a side of himself he didn’t display at the high table with his Highlanders watching. They expected strength in their laird, and Quinton gave them that.
“Then come here and give me my prize, lass.”
She felt a tingle of suspicion cross her thoughts, but the eager look of anticipation on his face was too much temptation to ignore. In his eyes, she could see complete devotion to her and what he wanted from her.
“What is the prize you believe ye have earned?” Her tone was husky and almost sultry.
“A kiss, of course. Isn’t that what every lad strains his wits to win from his fair maid?”
Her eyelashes lowered, and her cheeks burned with a blush. She heard his step on the stone floor and looked up to see him closing the distance between them. But the look in his eyes was mesmerizing, so full of desire and pleasure that she remained frozen in place. It made her feel beautiful. No words had ever sent such confidence through her.
“I would have my kiss, sweet Deirdre.”
He didn’t reach for her but waited for her to make the decision of whether or not to grant his wish.
Choice…
She reached up and slid her hands over the sides of his face.
“Then ye shall have yer reward.”
She stretched up, and he leaned down so that their lips might meet. Sweet sensation flowed through her, and everything else ceased to matter… again.
***
Her belly growled. Quinton laughed, his hands still toying with her hair. Her face was pillowed on his chest as he lay on his back in the bed. Draped over him, Deirdre didn’t find her empty belly reason enough to move.
Things were perfect as they were.
But her lover sat up and took her with him.
“We miss too many meals.” He tucked her hair behind her ears before standing up. “And ye need a dressing robe since I cannae seem to wait until after we eat to ravish ye.”
He pulled the door of the wardrobe open and grunted. She walked toward him and peered around him to see what it was that had gained his approval. A soft laugh passed her lips too.
“Amber does a fine job of tending to me.”
Quinton lifted the dressing robe that was hanging neatly beside his shirts and draped it over her shoulders. She shivered as the cool fabric touched her skin.
“It’s yer choice, but I think ye should give her the position as yer head of ladies.” He raised a finger in front of her nose and pressed it on top of her lips when she opened her mouth to argue.
“Do nae argue with me, Deirdre. No’ tonight. Or yer belly is going to remain empty, because I’ll kiss ye quiet the next time ye try to tell me why ye are nae staying here with me. Ye need ladies, Cameron women who will keep the gossips from slandering ye.”
That much was true. Walking about the castle alone would breed rumors.
The two candles were still burning on the table. Aided by their glow, she could see a longing in his eyes, which sobered her. The chamber was the only place where he might be himself. She understood that well enough, for she’d been the laird’s daughter her entire life, and she knew the burden being laird could be when you needed space to be yourself.
Their supper was still on the table, but something else caught her eye. She smiled and reached over to pick up the deck of playing cards that Quinton’s personal attendant had left out for his master.
“Well then, I demand that ye offer me the opportunity to claim a prize from ye.”
He grinned, wickedness shimmering in his eyes. “The opportunity is yers, but do nae confuse that with the fact that I will make ye fight for it.”
She sat down and split the deck before neatly shuffling with an experienced motion that was impossible to fake.
“I would have it no other way, Laird Cameron.”
***
The horizon was barely pink when Deirdre opened her eyes. Quinton placed a soft kiss against her lips as she did so.
“Why are ye dressed so early?” Her voice was gruff with sleep, and she rubbed her eyes to see him better.
He flashed that devilish grin at her in response. “Well now, lass. We cannae bicker if we are nae together.”
“I do no’ bicker.”
He waved a finger at her. “It’s a fact that ye are every bit as stubborn as I am. I suppose it’s time I recognized that and accepted the fact that I would nae be drawn to ye if I did nae respect ye to stand up to me.”
She sat up as he began walking toward the door. “Quinton, we need to talk…”
“If that is how ye feel, Deirdre, I suggest ye resist the urge to run away because ye think I do nae treasure ye. Come sunset, I will be happy to do me best to convince ye that I do. Until then, I must see to me duties, and I’m hoping that ye’ll continue in the place I’ve honored ye with. The Cameron need a mistress like ye; the women need me to give them a woman who understands honor and the way life is here in the Highlands. Ye need to reconsider yer harsh stand on wedding me, for I believe it’s a fine idea.”
There were several quick glances in her direction as his men clearly heard the word “wedding.” She could feel their excitement, even if no one spoke.
“But I need love…”
One of his eyebrows rose. “I could no’ love any woman who I cannae trust. So, me men will no longer stop ye at the gate.” He winced but stood firm in his decision. “And I do nae care for the doubt that plants in me mind, but ye are very much like me, and I could no’ live without freedom, so I will give ye yers.”
His words were both a threat and a promise. She nibbled on her lower lip, contemplating the choice he’d just handed her. It was better than any gift, for it was the one thing that she truly craved.
Choice.
She ached to see love in his eyes. That need hadn’t left her, but Amber peeked into the chamber, and there was no time to mull over her thoughts. The day had begun, and Deirdre went to face it.
She did pause when she passed the cards that were lying on the tabletop. Some were still in even piles, but a few had fallen onto the floor, where they had been forgotten in a moment of passion the night before. The Earl of Liddell was a complex man, who she realized she did not truly know.
But he’d just challenged her to stay at Drumdeer and learn.
***
Deirdre lifted her head near sunset and listened to the bells beginning to ring along the walls.
“What is it?”
Amber worried her lower lip and moved to the window to look out. They were working in a study room in one of the east towers. Quinton’s mother had attended to all the women’s issues in that room, and there seemed to be a steady stream of Cameron women who were happy to have a mistress of Drumdeer to make decisions. Deirdre found herself struggling to maintain her confidence in her advice as they brought to her matters that would have major impact on the families involved.
She didn’t feel wise enough or experienced enough to be making such decisions.
“Someone is arriving, Lady Deirdre—a noble person. That’s why they are ringing the bells. The only other reason would be siege, but there isn’t a stream of people coming in from the village.”
Deirdre stood up and walked to the window, but she couldn’t see enough. She had to control the urge to climb up onto the battlements, where her sight would not be obstructed.
Women did not belong on the battlements.
Instead, she descended to the ground floor and went out to view the yard. Plenty of other people had come out to see who was arriving. Amber floated near her right shoulder, but Deirdre was becoming accustomed to the girl’s presence. Ambe
r did more than serve her: the Cameron girl kept the gossips quiet, because there was now a Cameron witness to what she did every moment of the day.
Amber suddenly gasped. Deirdre turned to see that the girl’s face had gone white, and her eyes were wide in shock.
“Who is it?”
“The… um… it is the Countess of Braunfield arriving—Mary Ross.”
Icy dread went through her. Deirdre was sure that her heart stopped beating in that moment. She felt suspended between breaths as she watched the columns of retainers ride into the yard. Their kilts were blue and green with gray woven in. The colors of the Sinclair clan. They were the highest of the Highlanders, and their earl a match for Quinton in both titles and holdings.
But the earl was not among the riders. She searched the flags flying from the lead rider’s poles twice, and only found Mary Ross’s shield on display.
That meant the countess had come to see Quinton alone.
Her heart stopped again, her memory offering up what Quinton had confessed about this woman. He’d loved her. Jealousy rose up inside her until she was sure that steam would come out of her ears.
“I’m sure she’s just caught out on the road… and needs shelter.”
There was a grunt from Tully. The older woman had come up from the bathhouse. “Say what ye will, but I’ll tell ye that seeing that woman here means no good for any of us. She’s a blackhearted thing, and I’ll no’ be sorry I said that either.”
Tully looked at Deirdre. “She’ll cause trouble; ye’ll see.”
Quinton appeared at the foot of the eagle tower. His captains stood behind him, presenting a solid wall of Cameron support for their laird.
“Oh, Quinton! It’s been forever since I set eyes on yer handsome face.”
Mary Ross didn’t ride a horse. Instead the woman alighted from a private chair that was suspended between two horses on long poles. The chair was kept private by thick tapestries. Protected inside the draperies, the countess appeared, looking as though she had just descended from the lady’s solar. Her hair was dressed perfectly, and her clothing fine. She was by far one of the most beautiful women Deirdre had ever laid eyes upon. Her complexion was flawless and her eyes a lovely blue like a summer sky.
Deirdre felt drab by comparison.
“How may I help ye, Lady Braunfield?”
Mary Ross didn’t return Quinton’s formal greeting. Instead the woman rushed right up to him and kissed him on both cheeks. She was like a cloud of silk wrapping around him, but what stung Deirdre was the smile on his lips when the woman moved aside enough for her to see it.
That was the blow that sent her walking away. Her stomach threatened to heave, and she knew that she couldn’t bear the sight another moment.
“Lady Deirdre… where are ye going?” Amber had to rush to keep pace with her.
“I am… I am going to bathe.”
Deirdre turned sharply and headed down the steps to the bath. At least misty eyes wouldn’t be noticed there.
But there was nothing she might do for the pain in her heart. It grew as she discovered being out of sight was worse than seeing Mary Ross embracing Quinton. Her mind was happy to concoct ideas of Mary lifting her face for his kiss.
Stop it.
She ordered herself to have the same trust in Quinton that he had for her. But it was not easy to convince herself when she had heard him confess that he had loved Mary Ross once. Jealousy consumed her as she tried to maintain her poise while she bathed.
It was far too difficult.
The bath maids did their job quietly, but there were quick looks cast between them when they thought that Deirdre wasn’t watching.
“Now go and take yer place, lady.”
Deirdre turned to stare at Tully. The older woman looked her straight in the eye with the length of wet toweling still in her fingers. Deirdre had lingered in her bath, but there was nothing more to keep her in the bathhouse now that her hair had been brushed out and dried in front of the fire.
“I said, go and take yer place, Lady Deirdre, for I find I like ye full well and would no’ see that blackhearted woman in the laird’s chamber.” The older woman was joined by the other maids; they stood behind her with firm expressions on their faces. It was the sort of respect she had hoped to earn, and she felt it deeply.
“Go up there and make him see how noble ye are. I’ve faith in me laird. He’ll no’ have that creature in his chamber, even if he cannae refuse to shelter her.” Tully nodded. “Be bold, Lady Deirdre.”
Did she dare?
Did she dare not?
Heat flickered inside her, and she suddenly discovered that she would rather spit in the eye of her rival than weep silently in the bed that Quinton had prepared for Mary Ross.
She would never sleep there again.
“Thank ye, Tully. Ye are wise.”
There were nods and muttering of agreement, but Deirdre didn’t linger to enjoy them. She climbed the stairs and walked through the dark hallways with her hair streaming behind her like a bride.
She was on her way to surrender to her choice of groom. Maybe that was whimsical thinking, but she meant it with every fiber of her being. Amber and the other girls followed, just like her bridesmaids.
But Quinton’s chamber was empty.
She stood inside for a long moment, listening to the roar of the river and searching the shadows for him.
“Look, lady… on the table.”
Amber pointed, and her finger wiggled with excitement. Deirdre heard her heart beating as she approached the single candle left burning on the table. A letter sat there, folded and sealed with the crest of the Earl of Liddell.
Her name was on the front of it.
Her hand shook as she reached for it, the empty room shattering her confidence. It would be so simple for Quinton to send her away with a letter.
So simple, because she was the one who had insisted on leaving.
Deirdre…
The countess brought word that the Earl of Douglas has died. I must attend his funeral and see the proper succession of his son.
I pray that ye shall be waiting upon my return. Please be here, in our chamber. The thought of ye in me bed will keep me warm. I swear it.
Quinton
“There… all is right.”
Amber read the letter over her shoulder and began chattering away in her relief. She sent the other girls to ready the bed, and Deirdre realized they were eager to make sure she slept there.
That was the respect she had wanted to earn from the Cameron women. Now all that remained was to win the heart of their laird.
She lay down in his bed, shifting about because it felt odd not to have been carried there.
She should have been more concerned with praying for Archibald Douglas but instead she discovered her prayers centered around Quinton and how soon he might return to her.
She’d be there. He could trust in that.
***
“Ye’re going to kill yer horse.”
Coalan was risking a great deal. Quinton snarled at his captain, but the man refused to relent. He looked at the road ahead and cursed. Still a half day’s ride to Restalrig, and then more time as he waited on the earl’s family to arrive.
It was his duty to see the passing of the signet ring to the boy’s hand, but every fiber of his being rebelled. Suspicion knotted the muscles along his back, but duty had always come before his personal desires.
Mary Ross had been the single deviation from that path. He looked back toward Drumdeer, indecision refusing to allow him to turn his attention to the duty that he should be focused on.
Instead, all he could see was Deirdre’s face when he had told her his heart was dead.
He’d been wrong.
***
“The Countess of Braunfield requires yer presence, Deirdre Chattan.”
Amber gasped, and Deirdre looked up from the marriage contract she was reading along with two older Cameron women. They both turned to glare at
the personal attendant of the countess. The woman wasn’t unimpressed with their displeasure. She lifted her pert nose into the air and sniffed loudly, as though there was a foul scent in the chamber.
“Ye should nae keep the lady waiting.”
There was a good measure of disdain in her voice, but Deirdre found herself staring at the woman’s attire more. She wore a silk overrobe with silver beads sewn around the square neckline. Her underrobe was simpler, but she had a silver signet circling her head.
“I will attend the lady when I have finished seeing the Cameron women who have come seeking settlement this day.”
The two women in front of her nodded firmly with approval, but the lady’s attendant sniffed again.
“Ye are no’ the Countess of Drumdeer, and yer word should nae carry any authority,” she announced.
“The laird said it did,” Amber insisted.
Deirdre stood and placed a gentle hand on Amber’s forearm to quiet the girl. Amber closed her mouth, but she made a low sound beneath her breath that made it plain she was not happy.
“I am attending to the duties given to me, and my answer has no’ changed. I will attend yer lady when I am finished with the things that need doing for the clan.”
The attendant narrowed her eyes. “Ye had best make haste. The Countess of Braunfield is yer better and should nae be kept waiting on the likes of you. It is yer duty to answer her summons promptly.”
Amber sputtered, but the lady’s attendant swept from the chamber with another sniff. The two Cameron women both shook their heads.
“There’s no respect in that one for her elders, and that’s a solid fact,” one of them muttered before turning back to look at Deirdre. “I’m right happy to see ye are no’ impressed with that sort of arrogance.”
The compliment was approved by the other woman, and Amber nodded as well, but Deirdre couldn’t dismiss the feeling of dread that had begun churning inside her stomach. Mary Ross was a countess, and many would give her deference without question. Quinton’s words surface from her memory, and she stood because connection did mean a great deal among the nobles. Mary had shunned Quinton in favor of wedding a more connected earl.
