Never Kiss a Laird

by Byrnes, Tess

  The long, manicured, tree-lined drive that led up to the Castle came into view, and Hugh directed the team towards it. As he neared the Castle, a groom appeared on the steps. Springing gracefully from the curricle, Hugh handed the reigns over to the groom with a smile and a thank-you. Before he reached the front door, it was thrown open, and his butler greeted him warmly.

  “It’s a chilly morning, sir. I have had a fire laid in the library, and Mrs. Cameron will have a luncheon ready for you as soon as you have changed.”

  “It is as if you could read my mind, Carr,” Hugh replied warmly. His great coat was damp and cold, and his stomach had been complaining for the last hour. He shrugged out of the fitted garment, and then trod quickly up the Grand Stair to change his raiment. Turning down the long gallery that led to his suite, he ran into his housekeeper, Mrs. Cameron, who approached with an arm full of linens. She was a round, comfortable woman somewhere in her mid-fifties, who ran the Castle very efficiently.

  “My lord,” she bobbed a curtsy, tsk-ing at the Earl’s appearance. “You look wet-through! The mist on the moors is very treacherous, my lord. You’d best change quickly into something dry before you catch your death.’

  “I don’t fear the moors, Mrs. Cameron,” Hugh replied easily. “If the mists were dangerous I never would have survived my boyhood.” He smiled at his house-keeper, who had been fussing over him since the day he was born.

  “Well, who lives the longest will see the most,” the pessimistic woman replied repressively. “Oh, and when you have had your luncheon, Sir, I must to talk to you about an unfortunate situation with one of the staff,” she continued diffidently.

  Hugh paused, his hand on the door handle. “Oh?”

  Encouraged, Mrs. Cameron continued. “It’s Bridget, my lord, the second upper house maid. I’ve had to turn her off without a character.”

  Hugh, who knew that a situation at the Castle was a very desirable position for a village maid, and that without a good reference the chance of attaining another one was pretty dim, looked concerned. “Was that really necessary, Mrs. Cameron?”

  “I was left without any choice,” Mrs. Cameron defended herself before the Earl could speak. “She forgot herself with one of the carrier’s lad from that delivery we had from London. I can’t have that kind of an example before the other maids. They are good girls, and their families expect that they will be around respectable folk at the Castle.”

  “I trust your handling of the staff, Mrs. Cameron. I appreciate the notice, but I have never interfered in your domain.”

  “I just thought you ought to know,” the housekeeper informed him, using a time-honored phrase. She bustled away down the hall with her load of linen, leaving Hugh to change into dry clothes, and return to the crackling blaze in the library hearth.

  But after an hour before the fire, and with a satisfying meal under his belt, the Earl felt restless and the thought of a lazy afternoon spent reading, or going over the estate accounts, did not appeal at all. Looking out the leaded windows of the library, the sky almost looked like clearing, and shards of sunlight were breaking through the grey clouds. His keeper had warned of an approaching storm, but there was no sign of it at present. The hounds lounging before the fire raised their heads, and looked longingly at their master.

  His expression softened at their hopeful looks, and deciding that Rufus could use a good gallop, he pulled the bell and requested that a groom saddle his stallion and bring the horse around.

  Mounted on Rufus, the Earl urged him into a gallop, and with his two hounds racing along behind him, he gave the horse his head. The animal lengthened his stride, racing along under the gathering grey clouds. Occasionally the clouds parted enough to allow a shaft of golden sunlight to break through, but as the Earl got farther from the Castle, these sun breaks were fewer and fewer. He slowed Rufus, and headed him up a rocky path that lead to an outcropping that allowed a spectacular view of the moors. This had been a favorite play area when he was a child, a series of shallow caves nearby making the perfect background for fighting dragons, or defending the realm with the crusaders. As he looked out over the grey horizon, Hugh saw a rider mounted on a dainty brown mare picking its careful way across a rocky burn down on the moor, the skirts of her riding dress whipping about in the Scottish breeze.

  Just then, a loud crack of thunder overhead resounded overhead. Rufus attempted to rear, and it took Hugh a moment to get the frightened horse under control. When he was able to, he looked to see how the other rider had fared. The dainty brown mare had reacted much as Rufus had, and Hugh watched appreciatively as the rider stayed atop the startled beast as it reared on its hind legs, pawing at the air. When all four legs were on the ground, the rider leaned forward and Hugh could see her patting and calming the animal. A flash of lightning filled the sky, followed only seconds later by an even louder boom.

  Hugh turned Rufus, and as the storm gathered and worsened, he raced his stallion across the moor towards the other rider.

  “Hey, there!” he called as he approached, but the wind whipped his words away. He was only fifty feet away when the young rider looked up from the difficult task of just staying seated on her stamping and rearing horse and noticed his approach.

  Hugh pressed forward until he was close enough to bring Rufus alongside the brown mare, and grasp the bridle. Hard rain drops began pelting down and Hugh squinted against the assault and looked over to meet the blue eyes of his lost, red-haired spitfire.

  Sally, elated by the first good gallop she’d had in ages, had been taken totally off guard by the first loud sounds of the approaching storm. The sheer exhilaration of riding across the starkly beautiful moors had made her forget her ills for the first time in weeks. It had taken every bit of her horsemanship to keep her seat under control as crack upon crack of thunder frightened the animal, and when Hugh grasped Beauty’s bridle, her overwhelming feeling was gratitude that her horse would not be injured.

  With the wind starting to pull red-gold tendrils from her tight chignon, and the delight of her ride still lingering, she turned upon her rescuer a glowing countenance. Her smile was bursting with joy, a tinge of appreciation, and she looked so beautiful that she took Hugh’s breath away.

  “Thank you, sir!” she called over the rising storm. “Beauty is not used to these Scottish storms!” She smiled widely as the wind grew louder.

  Recalling his wits, Hugh grinned back. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he roared. “Follow me!”

  He wheeled Rufus around, and urged him into a gallop, the two horses racing side-by-side back to the rocky outcropping, and the shallow caves there. As they reached the edge of the moor, Hugh leapt from the saddle, and then reached up to help Sally down. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he grasped her waist, and lifted her easily from the high saddle. Overcoming a desire to leave his hands where they rested, Hugh released her, took the reigns of both horses, and pulled them into one of the shallow caves.

  Sally followed, looking around with fascination. She found herself inside a stone chamber in which both she and her companion could easily stand. It seemed to go back quite a ways, but it was too dark to tell for sure. When they were ten feet into the cave the sounds of the storm were dampened, and both horses quieted quickly.

  “We can wait out the eye of the storm here,” Hugh told her. His dark hair was wind-blown, and in the dim light of the cave, the planes of his face showed in sharp relief. His brown eyes met hers intently, and his face had a harsh appearance. He was tall, and well-built, and Sally knew a moment’s hesitation that she should not have followed him so blithely into this remote and hidden spot. Then he smiled, and she felt foolish. The smile transformed his face, and Sally found herself responding to it.

  “This is fantastic,” Sally marveled, turning in a slow circle. She rubbed her arms briskly in the cold, damp air. “Thank you for coming to my aid, again, sir,” she acknowledged, with a mischievous smile. “My maid informed me that I was not a
s polite as I should have been yesterday.”

  She looked over at the tall man to see his reaction, and was relieved to see an appreciative grin on his face. “For my part, ma’am, I acknowledge my disgraceful actions in, er, manhandling your person.” He bowed formally, and Sally grinned.

  “In that case, I believe we are even, sir. And I am truly grateful for your help just now. I have never seen Beauty react to a storm like that before, but in truth it sounded as if the thunder was breaking directly over our heads.” She looked at her rescuer as she spoke.

  “It can seem that way when you are out on the moors,” Hugh agreed. “May I know your name, ma’am? Even though there is no one here to make correct introductions,” he smiled.

  “Yes, of course,” Sally replied. “It’s Sally Den,” she stopped, appalled that she had been about to give him her real name. Her first test in her new role and here she was blurting out her name!

  “Den?” he repeated, confused.

  “Den - ling - ton,” she sputtered out syllables almost at random.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Miss Denlington,” Hugh bowed formally. “And if I may make myself known to you, I am Hugh McLeod.”

  “That’s an appropriate name for someone who rides across the Scottish moors in a thunder storm,” Sally opined.

  “Och, begorra,” Hugh obliged in a heavy brogue, making Sally laugh. “That explains me, but what brings you to our moor?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  Treading warily, Sally cursed herself for not having a story ready for just such an occasion. It made sense that people might ask her why she was staying in Thorne, but in her desire to execute her plan and escape her untenable situation at home, she had not bothered to come up with a reason for her presence in the small village. Thinking quickly, she replied, “I am staying with an old school friend. She, uh, is unwell and cannot travel to London at present, so I determined to come visit her.” Surprised and pleased by her own quick wits, Sally smiled broadly at the Earl.

  “I am acquainted with most of the local families,” Hugh replied. “With whom are you staying?”

  Sally’s temper started to rise. What business was it of his? Hugh saw a spark forming in her blue eyes, and was not surprised when she spoke more sharply. “I’m sure you cannot be interested in my arrangements, sir,” she said repressively.

  “Oh but I am!” Hugh contradicted blithely. “I cannot but feel that it was remiss of you to venture out without a groom in unknown country, and with a storm brewing. I am surprised that your host would have allowed it.”

  “I assure you,” Sally retorted, her quick anger rising, “that I am perfectly capable of looking out for myself. Your comments on my behavior are completely without interest to me.” She stopped, self-consciously aware that she had indeed been most grateful for the gentleman’s assistance. Beauty could have shaken her off, and then both she and her horse would have been in dire straits. Unbeknownst to Sally, this internal debate was transparently depicted on her unguarded countenance, and when she finally looked up, she saw such amused understanding in Hugh McLeod’s brown eyes, that she felt her spurt of annoyance die out.

  “That was rude of me,” she apologized with a graceful smile. “I truly am grateful for your help with my horse. I love her dearly, and would not want her to be hurt on the moors. And your help yesterday as well,” she added in a grudging tone.

  “At your service,” Hugh bowed deeply. “And the name of your school friend?”

  Sally pressed her lips together at his persistence, but held on to her temper. “You would not know her,” she temporized. “She is a, er, a shut-in!”

  At that moment a crack of thunder, the loudest yet, broke immediately over the cave. It set the horses whickering nervously, and the Earl pulled them a little farther into the relative calm of the cave. Tethering them in the dark recess therein settled them down, and Hugh moved to the opening of the cave to gauge the weather.

  “These thunder storms can pass as quickly as they come on,” he called to Sally. “We should be able to make a dash for it soon, with no worse effect than a good drenching.”

  Sally came forward to stand next to him, looking out over the grey moors. The sky was dark, and after each clap of thunder, a fork of lightning would shoot through the sky. The view was stark and grey, but magnificent. A gust of cold, February air blew at them, and Sally began to shiver.

  The Earl looked at her with concern. “You look chilled to the bone,” he noted. Reaching for her hands, he held them in his own, and she clung to them savoring the warmth that radiated from his gloved hands. He looked at her red-tipped nose, her chattering teeth, and the damp fabric of her riding dress. She looked entirely adorable to him and he fought an impulse to pull her into his arms. Her lips would feel cool and soft, but would warm up quickly, the Earl mused. He saw that she was looking at him quizzically, and gave himself a mental shake.

  “Let me give you my jacket, Miss, Denlington,” he offered, starting to strip off his green riding jacket.

  “On no account in the world!” Sally exclaimed. “You will catch your death. Why should I have two coats, and you none?”

  Hugh paused in the act of undressing, and looked at her with exasperation. “I am several times your size, ma’am, and can weather the cold much better than you can.”

  Sally compressed her lips. The act stopped her teeth from chattering, but was motivated by frustration. If one more person thinks they know better than I do what is good for me, I just might scream, she thought to herself. Aloud she said, “I believe I will not die from being a little cold, sir.”

  “Don’t be a little fool,” he responded impatiently.

  A crack of thunder almost obscured his words, and as another gust of frigid wind assaulted them, Hugh took her hand and pulled her further into the little cave.

  She wrenched her hand free, and turned slowly to face him. Sparks darted from her blue eyes, which had narrowed alarmingly. “A fool?” she repeated in the purring voice that her brothers had learned from experience to fear.

  Hugh met her eyes, thinking how enchanting she looked when she was enraged. He threw up his hands, laughing. “My apologies,” he acknowledged. “That was most ungentlemanly.”

  Sally nodded her head regally, but the effect was spoiled as she shivered convulsively in the wintry air.

  “Come,” the Earl coaxed. He opened up his jacket, and pressing his chest to Sally’s front, wrapped the coat around her shoulders as far as it would reach. “This is a little unorthodox, but I can’t just stand here and watch you turn into an icicle.”

  Sally stiffened, but the heavenly warmth emanating from the soft, linen shirt Hugh McLeod wore under his jacket was too delicious to resist. Snaking her arms under his jacket, she wound them around his waist to clasp her hands behind him, resting her cheek on his chest. Still shuddering with cold, she nestled into the warm body, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Hugh’s arms held her tightly, and as his warmth seeped into her, the shivering slowly stopped.

  Overhead the thunder continued to boom, but seemed to be getting farther away. Sally knew she should move away, but felt an incapacitating reluctance to move. She became aware that Hugh McLeod’s hands were slowly caressing her back, and that the chest underneath her cheek was moving up and down a bit faster. Her mouth felt oddly dry, and her own heart rate seemed to be picking up a bit as she leaned back and her eyes locked with a pair of molten brown ones.

  “You are so beautiful,” Hugh murmured, as he lowered his head slowly and Sally raised hers to meet his searching mouth. Hugh’s lips pressed hers apart, and when his tongue touched hers, Sally instinctively pressed back with her own. One of Hugh’s hands slid up to cradle Sally’s head, gently angling her so that her mouth met his more completely, and she couldn’t repress a moan. How could those skillful lips that were pulling at her lower lip, the tongue that was circling with her own, cause sensations to course throughout her entire body? Sally marveled, completely unable to stop herself.

&n
bsp; Hugh’s hand slipped a little lower, caressing the soft round of her buttocks, and electricity seemed to shoot through her body all the way to the sensitive tips of her breasts. Sally’s breath came more quickly, and Hugh released her mouth, nibbling along the side of her neck to a place beneath her ear that seemed oddly connected to her very core. She pressed her breasts against the hard chest below his linen shirt, feeling that her own jacket was very much in the way. A throbbing sensation was beginning between her legs, a distracting and foreign sensation that seemed to fill her body with a need to move, a restless energy that pushed at her very skin. She groaned aloud and dug her fingers into the hard broad shoulders, and Hugh captured her mouth once again.

  His hand came up and caressed her breast, his thumb moving over the pebbled tip that pushed against her jacket. Sally’s hands moved down Hugh’s back, feeling the muscles beneath the linen shirt, as they reached the top of his breeches, she felt him tense. He deepened their kiss, and Sally moved impatiently within his hard embrace, urgently trying to satisfy her need, but not exactly sure how to.

  A crack of thunder stopped their movement momentarily, and Hugh raised his head.

  As if the spell had been broken Sally abruptly released the warm body, and stepped backwards quickly, eyes wide in wonder, one hand pressed to her reddened lips. Her body still hummed with the reverberations of the feelings Hugh’s touch had aroused in her.

  Sally met Hugh’s amazed gaze unflinchingly. She couldn’t in conscience rail against his ungentlemanly behavior, when her own actions had been so far from ladylike. Instead of kissing him back, she should have fainted, or had strong hysterics, she told herself, wondering why she had responded in the way she had.

  “Miss Denlington,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “Sally.”