Mariel’s hand lingered in his as he straightened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “You’re from Scotland, correct?”
“Is it so obvious I’m no English?” He teased.
She gave an exaggerated stare that dragged from his chest up to his face. “Quite. I assure you, no Englishman was ever so tall as you.” Color rose in her cheeks, and she pressed her hand against the side of his arm. “Nor so strong.”
Kieran never had been one to fall prey to flattery, yet he felt himself warm at Mariel’s words.
Tempting though it was, he was not fool enough to think she was wholly interested in him alone. Beautiful women flirted when they wanted something, and clearly this one wanted to go to Scotland. He eyed her warily. “Ye said ye want to accompany me back to Scotland. Why?”
The playful grin melted from her lips. “I have no ties to keep me here.” Her gaze dropped to the garden below. “Everything I held dear is lost to me, and everyone I love is either gone or out of reach. I have no friends, and no one to care for me or about me. Not anymore.” The sadness he’d seen before burned deep in her luminous stare. “Going to Scotland will allow me a freedom I can never have here; a chance to start over.”
“Ye can go anywhere in England to do that. Why Scotland?”
She leaned closer to him, her mouth softening, and her gaze pleading. “I am in danger if I stay in England,” she whispered.
The lass’s head barely came to his chest. What kind of danger could she possibly be in? He took in her wide-eyed desperation and furrowed brow.
“Please,” she said softly. “I’m not safe anywhere in England.”
“What is it ye’ve done to bring on such danger?” He held his hands at his side, fighting the urge to reach out to her.
Her fingers pinched one another, and she inhaled what seemed to be a pained breath. “I owe a man more money than I could possibly pay, and he’s ruthless in his pursuit to collect what is owed.” Her head lowered as she glanced down at the ground. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that, but there’s something about you.” She met his gaze once more. “Something I trust.”
Her smile was apologetic and suddenly shy. As if proving his point, Mariel waved her hand in the air, and the shy smile became too broad and bright to be heartfelt.
“Enough of me. Tell me of Scotland. I’ve heard no other beauty compares to the Highlands.” A wistful note tinged her words.
“Aye,” he said. “It’s verra lovely. What ye see depends on where ye are. Skye, where I live, is on the coast, and there are deep blue seas lined with jagged cliffs. The wind blows so fiercely that the waterfalls on those cliffs flow upward and rise to the heavens.” He looked down at her and winked. “Ye’d probably blow away.”
“Skye,” she repeated. “Even the name is beautiful. Like one could spread their wings and fly into the crystal blue nothing.”
She drew an invisible pattern on his forearm with her slender finger. The movement was subtle and surprisingly intimate. No longer did his thoughts linger on the beauty of his homeland. Instead he found his gaze fixed on her parted lips. He wanted to feel her full mouth beneath his, and her slender body against him.
His finger rose of its own volition and stroked the hollow of her cheek. She tilted her face up toward his.
“Take me with you,” she whispered.
“What would ye do on Skye?” His voice was deep with desire.
She rested her hand on his chest, her fingers burning his flesh through the layers of cloth. “I could be your mistress.”
• • •
Mariel waited for Kieran’s ready acceptance, but it did not come. Had she misjudged his interest?
“I dinna need a mistress,” he said and eyed her warily.
Frustration pricked her. She had acted too quickly, was too blunt, and now she would lose him if she didn’t smooth this over.
Her eyes swept over his powerful frame. “I don’t doubt your lack of need,” she said with a smile. “But I know I could make you happy.” Her finger trailed down the smooth fabric of his leine, following the carved planes of his chest beneath. “Very happy.”
His hand folded around hers and stilled the teasing gesture. “I said no.”
He was slipping away. She let her hand drop to her side and regarded him with a composure she did not feel. “Are you newly married?”
Kieran gave a snort as though he found the prospect distasteful. “I am no married.”
“You have a mistress already, then?”
“I have no mistress either,” he replied.
Her heart tripped with fear. “You are in love.”
The corner of his lip lifted in a sardonic smile. “I dinna have time for love. Nor do I have time for a wife.” He gave her a pointed stare. “Or a mistress, aye?”
His rejection stung no matter the reasoning. She was suddenly grateful for the allotted time. There might be need for it after all.
If she had not already pushed him away, that is.
Mariel forced a chuckle to lighten the heavy mood. “Then perhaps I can console my broken heart with your friendship. Come. Let us go inside before my dear maid becomes anxious over my absence.” A statement all too true, unfortunately.
If he did not come now, she instinctively knew she would lose his interest forever. His rejection was not an option; her failure was not an option. Not with so much at stake.
No longer was Jack’s life the only one at risk, but now Kieran’s as well. If Mariel could not perform the task, the sympathetic Highlander would lose his life rather than his secrets. She met his dark eyes, and her heart flickered with sorrow.
Despite his obvious suspicion, Kieran pushed open the glass-paned door and motioned for her to walk ahead of him.
The uncomfortable warmth of the room was stifling as they left the cool silence of the night behind them. Yawning hearths glowed with red-hot embers on either side of a room lined in green silk; an opulent expense meant to block out the cold. Mariel’s palms tingled with sweat.
She covertly scanned the crowded room for familiar faces. A habit borne out of necessity.
Jane appeared at her side and held out a plain metal goblet of wine. Her cheeks were flushed, and her amber eyes sparked with what could only be rage. Apparently she had been informed of the new assignment as well.
“Thank you, Jane.” Mariel took the goblet with a smile, but would do no more than put the cup to her lips. It was never wise to lose one’s head while on assignment. “Kieran, would you like Jane to get you something to drink?”
“I dinna care for English wine.” His response was curt, an indication that he still bristled from her folly outside. She may have lured him to her side, but she was still far from her goal.
Jane bobbed a curtsey and disappeared into the crowd, doubtless to find another of Aaron’s men to relate Mariel’s progress.
Several unoccupied chess tables stood near a large window, and an idea came to her. “Do you play?” she asked, nodding toward the table.
Kieran’s eyes followed the direction she indicated. “Aye.” His response was flat, and his face unreadable.
“Then let us play.” She grabbed his hand to pull him in the direction of the table. His palm was calloused and hard beneath her fingers. For all his noble status as laird, the man worked hard with his hands.
Mariel sank with careful grace into the dainty chair. “Jane has my purse. Perhaps we could wager something of a different nature?” She did not meet his gaze as she positioned the board, setting the yellowed ivory pieces in front of her and the chipped onyx before him. Would he take the bait?
“What did ye have in mind?” Caution laced his tone.
“If you win, I’ll leave you alone since I fear that is what you desire.”
He did not protest. “And if ye win?”
Mariel settled back in the chair and surveyed the board. “If I win, you take me to Scotland. Both myself and my maid. All expenses covered.”
A frown tugged
at his lips. He would need a little goading.
“Afraid I’ll beat you?” she challenged playfully.
Kieran’s eyes narrowed as he settled in the seat opposite her. The delicate chair looked like a child’s toy beneath his massive frame. “Yer move.”
The tension in Mariel’s shoulders eased. Once she won the game and secured her passage to Scotland, she would have to come up with a way to win his trust enough for him to speak openly with her. That would be the difficult part. She knew from experience men did not part easily with their secrets. Their innermost thoughts were shared with other males of close acquaintance or the women they slept with. As Mariel was not a man, that left only one option.
She pushed her pawn forward two spaces. Kieran was not completely disinterested. She had not imagined the desire in his eyes. Her pulse fluttered with unaccustomed nervousness as she waited for him to make his move.
She must win this game.
“I hear King James is trying to establish his own Bible,” she said. Men typically liked to talk when they played chess.
Kieran grunted and pushed his pawn forward. He kept his large, tapered fingers planted on the piece and surveyed the board.
Mariel let her gaze wander over Kieran, noting the small creases lining his brow. He was a serious man, one with heavy responsibility. Though the clothes he wore were not ornate, they were sewn well and with fine material. He was a proud man of simple taste.
“Shakespeare is going to be presenting one of his plays for the king tonight.” She fingered the smooth indentions on her knight and moved it into position.
Kieran shifted his rook forward and did not respond.
Mariel slid her bishop across the board.
The dark wool of Kieran’s jacket stretched over his powerful arms as he nudged another pawn forward. Several white scars slashed across his hand.
She breathed out a sigh and captured his rook.
With a start, she realized the intensity of his stare was fixed on her. Not on the tops of her breasts like most men were wont to do, but on her face, carefully studying her.
She returned her gaze to the board and tried to focus on the game for the next several moves. One final nudge of her rook placed the piece within reach of his knight. The very knight that protected Kieran’s king.
“Ye can take the piece back if ye like,” Kieran said and indicated to the piece.
The move looked like a mistake on her part and left her rook open for capture.
She smiled sweetly. “That wouldn’t be fair.”
He was hesitant when he captured the sacrificial rook as if he somehow felt bad for playing on what he assumed to be an error she had made. His fingers curled around the defeated piece, and his eyes widened slightly. No doubt a realization of what he’d done.
Victory surged through Mariel like a balm for her ragged nerves. She’d accomplished her goal and won her passage to Scotland. Jack would be safe.
She slid her queen into position and lifted her fingers from the smooth chess piece. “Checkmate.”
Chapter Three
Kieran stared down at the chessboard in amazement, studying the pieces in an effort to discover an error. He found none. No one had ever beaten him at chess and certainly not in only nine moves.
Mariel appeared disinterested in her own incredible victory as her extraordinary violet gaze skimmed the room once more. She had done that throughout their game. Being in full view at court left her on edge.
Despite her distracted state, his guaranteed win had become his greatest defeat. And to a most unexpected opponent.
He had underestimated her and that arrogance now placed others at risk. Frustration tightened the muscles along the back of his neck. Bringing her to Skye was dangerous, not only for her but also for his people. Too many secrets filled his home. Too much balanced on the edge of discretion to make a stranger welcome.
Honor pressed Kieran. While he had agreed to take Mariel to Scotland in the unlikely event that she won, he had also made another promise to his people. One of greater import and severity. One that would be jeopardized by her presence in his home.
His ready trust had once been abused, and he paid for it still on a daily basis. He would not repeat that mistake again.
“I canna take ye to Scotland, Mariel.” He stood to leave, hoping she would not press her hand.
Hoping, but not expecting.
She rose quickly from her chair. Too quickly. Her look of nonchalance could not hide her anxiety. “Oh?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Did I not hear you correctly when you agreed to play?”
“Nay, I did agree to play chess with ye.” Though it had just begun, he knew the conversation would not go well for him.
“And did you not hear me when I told you the wager?”
“Aye, I heard the wager.” He’d heard but had not expected to have to honor it.
She motioned to the board. “Do you think I have in some way cheated?”
He gritted his teeth. “Nay, I dinna think ye cheated.”
“Then the men of court were correct.” She turned away from him. “Highlanders are not honorable men.” Her eyes met his as she glanced back over her shoulder. “I confess I thought more of you.”
Pride squeezed against reason and shoved common sense from his thoughts. He caught her hand and pulled her to face him once more. “The English are the ones who are nae honorable.”
One perfectly groomed eyebrow lifted at his words. “I’ve never had an Englishman lie to me the way you just did.”
“It isna lack of honor that keeps me from agreeing to this, but fear for yer safety. I dinna think ye understand how difficult life on Skye can be.” He eyed her soft, milk white hands and continued. “Ye would need to work hard to earn yer place.”
Mariel’s gaze wandered to the chessboard. “Perhaps you underestimate me, Kieran.”
He regarded her with silence. She was full of surprises, he would give her that.
Kieran studied her upturned face and, for the briefest of moments, allowed himself to entertain the idea of accepting her as his mistress. Having her in his bed would make him the envy of the Highlands. He kept his gaze from trailing down to her bodice, but he knew what lay there. The very idea of having her be his, of being able to pull her into his arms, of being able to kiss her, touch her—it was too damn tempting.
Kieran folded his hand around his defeated king and let the sharp edges of the chess piece bite into his palm as he tried to clear the images fogging his mind. Wanting her was a waste of energy. She could never be his.
He would never allow her to buy his protection with her body. Too recently he had seen what the abuse of man could do. And it made his body burn with rage.
He gave her an appraising look. “If ye are able to work for yer keep in Scotland, then why did ye offer to become my mistress?”
“Working for my keep in London is not possible. There are no options for a woman, save marriage.” Mariel rose up on her tiptoes and peered over the elaborate hairstyles of several women to where King James stood with his bushy beard and velvet frippery.
“King James and Queen Anne were married by proxy,” she said. “However, when our queen tried to depart for Scotland, she encountered storms and was unable to travel. King James was beside himself with misery and wrote sonnets in her honor. Unable to take her absence any longer, he gathered his men and set sail for Oslo where he plucked her from its barren shore and bore her safely to Scottish soil.” Mariel gave a little sigh. “Is that not the most romantic story you’ve ever heard?”
Kieran didn’t bother commenting on her diatribe. What a man’s passionate notion toward his wife had to do with Mariel’s offer to be his mistress made no sense. Besides, the king’s chivalrous effort seemed like a waste of men, time, and funds, but some fools considered themselves romantic. That James was such a fool came as little surprise.
“There is a woman by the door with blond hair in a pink gown.” Mariel continued without turning her
head. “Did you notice her when we came in?”
He glanced toward the door and immediately spotted the woman. The frivolous gown framed a curvy figure and drew attention to her heavy bosom while the arrogant tilt of her chin indicated how very important she thought herself.
He had not noticed her when he entered, but then what man would see the haughty blonde when he had Mariel on his arm?
Kieran felt her eyes on him, and he realized she was waiting for an answer. “I dinna see her when we came in,” he confessed.
“Then you are the only man who did not.” With a wry smile, she leaned closer to him. Her light scent tickled his senses and coaxed the arousal he fought to keep at bay. She spoke softly, her words meant only for his ears. “Do you see how King James looks at her?”
He turned and found the king staring at the blonde as though she were spit-roasted game and he a starving man.
“That’s his mistress, Lady Glamis,” Mariel explained. “His wife, for whom he’d made such a production of loving, is in another palace while Lady Glamis travels with him.” She tilted her head to the side, musing. “Not so very romantic, is it?”
“No all men are that way,” he replied carefully.
Mariel gave a small shrug that suggested she did not agree with what he’d stated but hadn’t the desire to argue. “Lady Glamis is free to come and go as she pleases, and when our king tires of her, she will do well for herself with the gifts he has bestowed upon her. Queen Anne, however, is doomed to a loveless marriage with a faithless husband. No,” she said with finality, “I’ll take a mistress’s freedom to a wife’s unloved misery any day if those are my only options.”
“Besides,” she added while he absorbed what she had told him. “Is it such a bad thing for a woman to want a man without the attachment of marriage?” She lowered her head and slanted her eyes up at him from beneath her long lashes.
• • •
Mariel knew her brazen question had been a risky move. However, she had not imagined the glint of interest in his eyes or the subtle way he glanced down her body when he claimed to have not noticed Lady Glamis. If she were going to seduce Kieran, she would have to slowly break down his hardened exterior.
Deception of a Highlander Page 2
