The Magnificent Rogue

by Iris Johansen

  Shock ran through her at the rudeness of the question. “No.”

  “That’s good. Then we all may be safe. Robert is no fool to endanger Craighdhu twice, no matter how much he wishes to bed you.”

  “He told you who my mother … who I am?”

  “Did you think he would not share such knowledge of a danger to Craighdhu with the man who defends her? I told him what an idiot he was.” He paused, then added deliberately, “But he assured me it was only lust, and Robert and I both know how fleeting that emotion can be.”

  He was trying to hurt her and succeeding admirably. She tried not to let him see how deep that thrust had gone home. “Then you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?”

  “I didn’t think so, until Robert and I talked to Deirdre and some of the townspeople this afternoon. You’ve been busy while we’ve been gone. Actually, you’ve done very well. You have a brain in your head and a gift for leadership.”

  “I’ve only tried to help,” she said.

  He shook his head. “You’ve been making a nest for yourself.”

  She met his gaze and knew she could not deny it to him as she had to herself. She had followed the instinct blindly, working, weaving a life in this place she most wanted to be. “Since there’s no child in the nest, there’s no threat to you.”

  “Not yet.” He smiled. “But I thought I should point out that I would be most displeased if you decided to lure Robert into that particular danger.”

  She felt a chill run through her. The threat was clear, and Jock Candaron a very dangerous man. “And what would you do if I chose to disobey your advice?”

  “Whatever my duty bids,” he said softly. “I always do my duty, Kate. It is a passion with me.” He turned his horse. “Now you must excuse me. Robert is waiting for me at my lodgings to discuss matters of business.”

  For the first time he had called her by her first name, foregoing the formal tide of respect. She knew it was deliberate. He wished to show her he had no more deference for her than he had for Norah Kerry.

  “You may not call me Kate,” she said through her teeth. “I prefer you to call me Kathryn, as my other enemies do.”

  He smiled. “I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, Kathryn. Such a joyous occasion …”

  She shivered as she watched him ride away. Duty for Jock could be anything from political machinations to a knife thrust. He would not allow her to—

  Good Heavens, what was she thinking? Jock had no right to forbid her anything. He might be the guardian of Craighdhu, but he could not enforce his will on her.

  The sudden rage flaming through her was white hot in intensity. It was not fair! Robert and now Jock mouthing these foolish fears. Couldn’t they see how unimportant she was to anyone in the outside world? Craighdhu was a universe in itself. She could live here in peace with Robert, their children around her. She could have everything she wanted, everything that had been denied her. It wasn’t right for her to be cheated this way.

  She stomped into her chamber to find Jean on her knees by the open leather chest, her arms overflowing with a rainbow of velvet and silks. “What wonderful gowns. Perhaps I won’t be as hard on Robert as I planned,” she murmured. “He’s certainly not stingy with the shilling. Powerful men usually hold their purse strings much closer than—” She stopped as she saw Kate’s flushed cheeks and blazing eyes. “They don’t please you?”

  Kate scarcely glanced at the finery in the trunk. “Such garments do not suit me. Take what you wish.”

  Jean shook her head. “I brought clothing aplenty with me. There was no sense in spending Gavin’s gold when I had all those gowns my father was forced to buy when he presented me at court.” She sat back on her heels. “And these gowns would suit you much better than those drab feathers you clothe yourself in.”

  “Feathers!” Kate slammed down the lid of the trunk. “I’m no weak, fluttering bird, and if I’m trying to make a nest for myself, it’s only because I wish to be happy. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Not of me.” Jean rose to her feet. “But men are more foolish than women. Sometimes when they cannot see, we must lead them until everything becomes clear to them.”

  The idea of Kate putting Robert on a lead was ludicrous. At the moment she would much rather put a noose around his neck. “He’s not so tame.”

  “Only when he wants to be.” Jean nodded at the chest. “And he’s already given you the weapons to use against him.”

  “I don’t want to fight him. I just wish to be left alone to make a life for myself.”

  Jean studied her thoughtfully. “I think that’s the last thing you wish. Why are you lying to yourself?”

  Because she was afraid she would be hurt again if she reached out and took what she wanted. The truth came to Kate out of nowhere, unbidden and unwelcome.

  Jean nodded. “I’ll have a tub brought up for your bath.”

  Kate shook her head. “Not now. I still have too much work to do. I have to supervise the setting up of the tables on the green, and the cooks tell me they need more mutton than they thought, and we need flowers for the—”

  “I’ll send for Deirdre. She’ll enjoy ordering everyone about.” A slight edge sharpened Jean’s words. The one time Jean and Deirdre had met had not been a cordial occasion. Deirdre had no use for helpless females, and Jean’s charm had reaped only a bounty of tactless criticism.

  “Deirdre has her own work. I can’t—”

  “I’ll send for Deirdre,” Jean repeated firmly. She gave Kate a commanding glance over her shoulder as she moved toward the door. “Give me a little time, and I’ll make you into the woman you should be.”

  “I’m the woman I should be now. All of this finery will not make me more so.”

  “Weapons,” Jean said again.

  Kate frowned. “Why should you wish to do this?”

  “Many reasons. Because it’s always a good thing to let men know our power. Because your contentment may have an effect on Gavin’s and my happiness.” She smiled, and it was not the enchanting smile she used to beguile the world. “And perhaps because I’m beginning to have a true fondness for you.”

  The door closed behind her.

  A ripple of warmth tempered the rage and hurt Kate was feeling. She and Jean were different in nature and thinking, but she was beginning to have a fondness for Jean as well. She turned and slowly lifted the lid of the trunk.

  I have a fondness for most textures.

  She remembered Robert’s words as she reached out with a tentative finger and stroked the nap of the yellow velvet gown on top.

  Jean meant for her to make herself into a woman Robert would not be able to resist, to lure him back into her bed in spite of his objections. She could have told her that was not possible. She had tried to make Robert belong to her before and only been hurt.

  But at that time she had been a child, chasing after a dream. She had changed. She was a woman now, with a woman’s strengths and a woman’s goals.

  Even if the path Jean suggested was possible, such blandishments were not Kate’s way.

  Still, the lady of Craighdhu should at least be presentable.

  Textures …

  As Kate came down the steps, Gavin blinked, and then a slow smile lit his face. “You look beautiful, Kate. Is all this splendor in my and Jeanie’s honor?”

  “Of course.” She quickly glanced away from him as she touched the crimson velvet of her skirt. “Jean said I must dress as befitted her wedding, and would not be satisfied with anything but this gaudy color. She says it suits me.”

  “Ah, Jeanie is the clever one. I should have known. She’s right, as usual. It’s a fine bold hue for a fine bold lass.”

  “You look very fine yourself.” He looked more than fine, Kate thought affectionately. An amethyst-bejeweled silver thistle embellished the wide MacDarren sash that crossed his chest and half hid the sparkling white of his linen shirt. His jauntily plumed hat sat slightly askew on his red hair, giving him an a
ir of rakish insouciance that was at odds with the eagerness he was trying to hide. Dear God, he was scarcely more than a boy, not even able to see through the mask worn by the woman he loved. How was he to evade the evil that would follow him when he left here? Trying to hide her fear with a mock frown, she let her gaze wander to his bare knees exposed by his green, purple, and dark blue kilt. “But will you not get cold in that skirt?”

  He flinched. “Kilt. Women wear skirts, men wear kilts. How many times must I tell you that—” He stopped as he saw her smile. “Och, you were teasing me.”

  “A wee bit.”

  “Well, I could wear nothing else on such an occasion. It would not be fitting.”

  “It will be less fitting to freeze your nether parts on your wedding night,” she said teasingly.

  “You need not worry, my blood is running too hot to even feel the chill tonight.” He looked beyond her up the stairs. “Where’s Jeanie?”

  “Getting dressed.” She grabbed his arm as he started up the steps. “And you’ll see her at the church and not before.”

  “I couldn’t run up and show her how grand I look?” he coaxed.

  “No, but you can come to the cellar and choose the wine to serve at your wedding feast. We’ve set up tables on the glen in back of the castle with food fit for a king, but I’ve had little experience in selecting wine. You must help me.”

  “Oh, very well.” He moved grudgingly away from the stairs and followed her down the hall, through the scullery to the door leading to the storage cellar. “But not wine. Ale. Heather ale.”

  “Wine.” She lit the candle on the table beside the door before preceding him down the winding steps. “This is a very special occasion.”

  “Which is why we should have the ale.” He went past several rows of wine and paused before a large box filled with pottery jars. “Ah, here we have it. These bottles of ale were prepared last year. The spirits should be more heady than the strongest wine.”

  “But I don’t think—” She gave in when she saw his pleading expression. “Oh, very well. It’s your wedding.”

  A brilliant smile lit his face. “Aye, that it is.”

  She felt a surge of affection mixed with apprehension as she looked at him. He was bursting, exploding with happiness, giddy and daft as a baby bird just out of the nest. She wanted to reach out, protect him, plead with him to take the safest route.

  He lifted his brows. “You’re looking at me as if I were a corpse, not a bridegroom. What’s wrong, Kate?”

  “Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I just want everything to go well for you.”

  “It will go well.” He stooped to pick up a few bottles of ale. “How could it not? I have Jeanie.”

  The woman whose depths he had not even fathomed yet. “I … believe Jean loves you very much, but she is …” She trailed off as she realized she could not betray the girl. He was so besotted, he probably would not believe her anyway. She asked brusquely, “Are you going to carry this box upstairs, or should I call a servant?”

  He continued to study the bottles. “Do you know, heather ale isn’t what it seems. On the surface it’s smooth as silk, but underneath there’s strength and a bite.” He lifted his gaze to her face. “I love the one as much as the other.”

  She stiffened as she searched his expression. He was not speaking of ale, and he was not the naive boy she had believed him to be.

  “I’m not a fool, Kate,” he said gently. “Do you think I could love a woman as much as I do Jeanie and not know her true nature? She’s had a hard life, but someday she will trust in me enough to let me have all of her.” He stooped and picked up two jars of the ale. “I’ll take these with me. Robert is at Jock’s lodgings, and maybe if I can get him drunk enough, I can persuade him to show up at the church for the wedding.”

  “Do you think there’s a possibility he won’t?”

  He shrugged. “He was angry. Robert doesn’t forgive lightly. We’ll have to see.” He moved his shoulders as if shrugging off a burden and turned and moved toward the steps. “Come along. We’ll send a servant for the rest of these bottles. It’s almost sundown.” His soberness had vanished, and he almost bounced up the steps. “Did I tell you about the bagpipes?”

  “Bagpipes?” She hurried after him, alarmed. “No bagpipes, Gavin.”

  “Jeanie told me you’d made no arrangements, so I took care of it myself. I know it’s not customary at weddings, but this isn’t your usual wedding. They have a fine stirring skirl, and I want to hear it when I see my Jeanie coming toward me.”

  “What about the lute?” she asked frantically. “The lute has a lovely romantic sound to it. Just right for a wedding.”

  Gavin shook his head. “The bagpipes.” He frowned. “I just wish I could pipe her to the church myself. But I’m so excited, I fear I could not do her justice, so I’ve asked Tim MacDougal to do the honors.”

  She had not even known Robert’s agent could play the bagpipes. She had a sudden picture of the small gray-haired man with his pursed, tight mouth and the permanent crease between his eyes, the furthest anyone could envision from a musician. She had worked so hard to make this wedding beautiful, and now it was going to be a disaster. “Will you not reconsider?”

  “You’ll see, it will be splendid.” Gavin beamed. “Tim is almost as good a piper as I am.”

  Robert turned with a frown as Jock opened the door of his lodgings. “Ian was just here. Did you know that there was a message from Bobby MacGrath from Edinburgh while we were gone?”

  Jock shook his head and threw off his cloak. “What did he have to say?”

  “Not enough. Alec is still at court. When he first arrived, he spent two days in the royal dungeons.”

  “Occupied with his favorite sport, no doubt. Do we know who was the subject of his attention this time?”

  Robert shook his head. “James is being very secretive. The guards were sent away, and Bobby hasn’t been able to find out who the woman was. He says he’ll continue to try.”

  “Woman?”

  “That’s all Bobby knows. It was a woman whose body was taken from the prison after two days of torture.”

  “Pleasant.”

  “Bobby said he’ll keep an eye on him while he’s in Edinburgh, but Alec appears to be doing nothing at present but acting as James’s dear companion.”

  “I can’t see any connection in this to our affairs.”

  “Neither can I.” Robert shrugged. “But Alec has surprised us before.” He threw himself in a chair and reached for the goblet of wine he had poured before Jock had entered. “I want you to go back to Ireland tomorrow.”

  Jock nodded. “I thought you might. Gavin?”

  “Find a haven for him.” He leaned back wearily. “If there is such a place.”

  “I’ll do my best. It may not be enough.”

  “I know.” He sipped his wine. “What a fool he is.”

  “He’s not alone,” Jock said. “I’m not at all sure I should leave you and go off to Ireland.”

  Robert said coldly, “I don’t want to hear it, Jock.”

  “But it would not be my duty to leave it unsaid,” he said mockingly. “I should stay and protect you from the harm looming on the horizon. By the way, I just returned from visiting your enchanting countess.”

  He stiffened. “Why?”

  “You see how protectively you bristle? Very dangerous.”

  “Why?”

  “I only delivered the gift you brought her from Ireland,” he said innocently. “What else would I be doing? And we both know she doesn’t need your protection. As we saw this afternoon, your lady-wife has managed to inveigle her way into the hearts of everyone on Craighdhu while we’ve been gone.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I’m sure that’s what some people said of her mother’s winsome ways.”

  “Kate’s not like her mother.”

  “No, she burns much brighter.”

  A faint smile tugged
at Robert’s lips as he remembered how Kate had burned down Sebastian’s cottage. “More than you know.” He looked down into the depths of his wine. “She’s hungry. All of her life she’s been starved, and now she wants to taste everything around her. How can you blame her?”

  “I can blame her.” Jock paused. “If she gobbles up Craighdhu.”

  “I won’t let her do that.”

  “Or you.”

  Robert was silent. It was not Kate’s fault, but he felt as if he were being devoured by his emotional obsession.

  “I notice you’re not answering,” Jock said. “Could it be because it’s—”

  “Robert!” It was Gavin, and he was pounding on the door. “Jock! Open the door. I have two bottles of the best ale in all of Scotland.”

  The wail of the bagpipes sang wild and sweet, triumphant yet melancholy, as it soared over the courtyard.

  Kate stood on the stone steps staring in amazement while Tim MacDougal slowly circled the courtyard wringing such melodies as Kate had never imagined possible from the dreaded instrument. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the scene in shadow and light, rose and darkness.

  She swallowed to ease the tightness from her throat and watched Jean take her place beneath the canopy of MacDarren’s plaid carried by four kilted clansmen. She looked more like a fairy-tale princess than ever in her gown of ivory-colored brocade. Her long silver-blonde hair flowed free to her waist as was the custom, her only hair ornament a wreath of spring flowers. Thirty clansmen in traditional kilts and carrying burning torches formed a guard on either side of the canopy.

  “Kate, come on,” Jean called impatiently, an eager smile illuminating her delicate features. “Would you have me late for my wedding?”

  “No, of course not.” Kate hurried down to take her place behind the canopy as the procession began to file from the courtyard over the drawbridge. Ahead of her the streets were lined with townspeople, and in the distance the bell of the church began to sound, blending with the wild, splendid fanfare of the pipes.

  She could see the mist-shrouded mountains in the distance, their reflection mirrored in scarlet in the sea.