Lewis sat down with his drink. He was irritable and hungry after his exertions of the afternoon, so his patience had worn very thin.
“I might have been rude, Father,” he conceded, “because I was very angry. I did my best to be polite but she irritated me beyond bearing. Perhaps I was not as courteous as I might have been, but I find her a most disagreeable young woman.There—you can shout, scream, and punch me if you like but I will not change my mind.”
At that moment Lewis looked down at his mother and saw that her expression had changed. She had a faint mischievous smile on her face. She too knew the girl and disliked her as much as Lewis, but she objected to his rudeness.
Lewis held up a hand to stop his father from speaking again. “However, Father, I will write her a letter of apology. I agree that I was wrong in that respect but I stand by my observations about her character. Now, if you do not mind, I am hungry and need to eat.” He turned away and made for the dining room, but his father forestalled him again.
“I am having a ceilidh next Saturday,” he said flatly, “and you will be there. I will be inviting all the young ladies in the district and you will dance with every one of them.”
Lewis bit down his anger. “Very well, Father,” he replied. “I will be there and I will dance with every lady according to your orders. I suppose you want me to marry one of them too? On first acquaintance? Perhaps you should invite the priest too.”
David Crawford’s face turned purple with anger, but he said nothing more. However, Laura got up and followed him out.
“Son, why are you resisting all your father’s attempts to find a wife for you?” she asked anxiously. “Is there someone else? Someone you are not telling us about?” Then she blushed and looked down at her hands. “You are not one of those men with—unnatural desires—are you?”
“Decidedly not, Mother!” he scoffed, and laughed. “I am just not ready. I am free, young, enjoying myself. I do not want to be tied down to a wife and children yet. You and father will have your grandchildren before too long, I promise, but not yet.”
“I still think you are hiding something,” she replied, then walked away.
Lewis went upstairs to his bedroom, wishing he was seeing Crissy that night. He was still hungry, so he had a tray brought to his room, but before he had finished his food he had nodded off to sleep.
Crissy was troubled by similar thoughts. She knew nothing about the ceilidh, but she wondered how many of the prospects that David Crawford had brought round had caught his eye. Not the last one for sure, and she had been the loveliest. She laughed as she thought of it, but when she heard the next day about the ceilidh that coming Saturday, her heart sank.
6
The Ceilidh
Lewis managed to sneak in one more assignation with Crissy before the ceilidh. As before, he had brought some items of the luxury food she would never have enjoyed at the castle, and she ate with relish while he sat watching her, smiling. She took pleasure in things that he took for granted, like wine, which she loved but could never afford on a servant’s wages. He wanted to buy her dresses so that her lovely figure could be seen and admired by everyone, but most of all he wanted to give her a child.
He smiled as he thought of it; a little boy or girl with chestnut hair and blue-gray eyes, or fair hair and brown eyes.
“Why are ye smilin’?” she asked as she drained the last drop of her wine. They were in the cottage again, once more snuggled under the blankets.
“I was daydreaming about our children,” he murmured, “and wondering what they will look like.”
She sighed and gazed at him across the table. “I wish ye widnae torture yersel’ like that,” she said sadly. “It is a dream, Lewis. It will never happen, an’ the only reason I havenae pit an end tae these secret meetings is because I am too weak.”
“You do not want to be with me?” His tone was deeply anxious.
She looked into the beautiful brown eyes that she loved so much and cupped his face in both her hands. “I want it mair than onythin’ I have ever wanted in my life, sweetheart, but it jist cannae be. A laird an’ housemaid—it is no’ right.”
Lewis shook his head. “I am a man, you are a woman, and we are both free. There is nothing in the Bible or anywhere else that says we cannot marry.”
She stood up. “Lewis, take me back,” she begged, her eyes glittering with tears. “I willnae meet ye again. Find a nice lassie at the ceilidh an’ marry her. We are no’ meant to be thegither. Tak me back, please.”
“I love you, Crissy,” he said, softly but firmly. “I would give my life for you. Let us elope. We can go south to the Lowlands. There is no war there anymore.”
“But ye will lose everything—” she began. She was beginning to weaken, and in her heart she wanted to weaken, but it was wrong.
“I do not want the estate or the lairdship if it means losing you. Listen...” He gripped her upper arms and looked into her eyes. “Let me get this stupid ceilidh behind us, then we can plan properly. We can wait for a full moon then go, run away where nobody knows us, and be married. We can go to a little inn somewhere and make a baby. It will be so wonderful. ”
“You are sich a dreamer, Lewis.” She laughed softly. She had given way again, because as soon as he smiled her resolve melted away like warm butter. She knew what she should do, but every time she tried it she failed. No matter how many times she told herself that she would succeed next time, she never did, probably because in her heart of hearts she did not want to.
So, they did not go back to the castle just then. They lay down on the mattress and talked, but soon it was not enough. She pulled up his kilt and took his length in her mouth. Then moved her head up and down, faster and faster till he was almost there. Then she grasped with her hand till he exploded, spilling his seed onto her hand with a low moan. She kissed him softly, then sighed.
“We should go,” she whispered at last. “If I am back too late somebody will notice.”
Lewis groaned. “One night we will stay out all night and nobody will be able to say anything, because you will be Lady Crissy Crawford!”
She smiled, but said no more. If only it could be so easy!
Lewis was dreading the ceilidh so much he thought of it as a disaster waiting to happen. He tried to avoid thinking about it, but the more he tried, the more it nagged at him. Time seemed to go by in a flash, and all too soon it was Saturday. The weather was dreich and miserable, but the banquet hall was festive and warm, blazing with twenty chandeliers and thousands of candles which cast a warm benevolent light on everything and everyone.
Crissy was serving drinks that evening, circulating between couples and groups of people with glasses of wine and whisky, apologizing when they bumped into her, even though it was not her fault. However, she was an expert at this, and wove her way through the guests with the suppleness of a cat. She knew that Lewis was in the room, but she was determined not to look for him, because if she saw him talking and laughing with another woman, especially a beautiful one, she knew that she would be overcome with jealousy.
She could not help but admire the stunning dresses of the women, however. They were colored like jewels: emerald green, sapphire blue, ruby red, turquoise green and amethyst, gold and silver, all trimmed with intricate lace and braid.
The glitter and glow of gemstones were everywhere, in pendants, earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, even on the silver brooches the men wore which were studded with mauve and amber-colored Cairngorm stones.
Then she saw Lewis coming into the banquet hall dressed in a kilt of his family tartan with a cutaway black velvet jacket and silver buttons. A sword in a silver scabbard hung by his side. He looked magnificent with his gleaming red hair brushed back from his face, showing his sharp cheekbones and warm brown eyes.
Only one thing spoiled the picture, and that was the sight of a brown-haired, pretty woman by his side, holding onto his arm and looking up at him with stars in her eyes. Crissy felt sick.
/> She was too busy to stop and stare, though. The crowd on the floor grew thicker and it became more and more difficult to move. At last, the inevitable happened. One of the ladies, who was slightly the worse for wear, stepped back and collided with Crissy, spilling six glasses of wine over both of them; the glasses shattered all over the floor.
Crissy reacted with characteristic presence of mind and apologized to the woman, whose lovely sage green silk dress had been completely ruined, then began to pick up the sharp shards of glass and put them on her tray. With a jab of unholy glee, she realized that it was Rina Donald, the woman Lewis despised so much.
She was just getting to her feet again when she realized that the woman intended to hit her, and then several things happened very fast. Crissy instinctively jumped backwards to dodge Rina’s fist, bumping into the man behind, who swore at her. However, the blow never landed because Rina’s arm was caught in midair by Lewis’s strong hand, which had shot out to seize it just as Rina was drawing her arm back to strike.
He pulled her around to face him none too gently, and Rina found that the eyes looking down at her were no longer warm and friendly, but had chips of ice in them.
“Mistress, I hope you were not going to strike my housemaid?” he growled. Rina shrank back and he let go of her hand.
“She bumped into me—look at my dress!” Rina cried.
“No—you bumped into her.” Lewis’s voice was soft and menacing. “Apologize, please.”
“M’laird, I—” Crissy began, but Lewis, not taking his eyes off Rina, held his hand up for silence. By this time a hush had settled over the whole room.
“Mistress, apologize, please,” Lewis repeated.
Rina was outraged. “I will not. She is a servant! She should say sorry to me!”
“I already did!” Crissy protested.
“She did,” said the woman standing next to her. Crissy glanced gratefully at the guest, who gave her a brief smile. Nobody liked Rina.
“Very well then Mistress Donald,” Lewis said pleasantly, “I am afraid I have no choice but to ask you to leave.”
Rina Donald’s mouth dropped open and for a moment she stared at Lewis, then at Crissy, who held her eyes till she dropped her gaze. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she bowed her head.
“I am sorry I was clumsy, girl,” she said quietly.
“Thank ye, Mistress,” Crissy said with a smile, her face flaming. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life. When she had picked up the glass, she hurried to the kitchen. Morag, seeing how upset she was, gave her a glass of warm milk and asked Crissy to tell her about the incident, which she did.
“The Young Laird is a good man,” Morag observed. “He has a kind heart, an’ it will be a lucky lass that gets him.”
“Aye,” Crissy said tonelessly. “I had better get back, thank ye for listenin’ Morag.”
Morag smiled. “Any time, hen.”
As she was going upstairs Crissy saw Lewis standing halfway up. “Are you quite well, sweetheart?” he whispered anxiously. “I was proud of the way you handled a bad situation.”
She shook her head. “I jist want the night tae be ower, Lewis,” she answered, her voice miserable.
“It soon will be,” he said soothingly, wishing he could take her in his arms. “The lady I am with is a friend of the family who has no interest in me at all, so do not worry. Remember that I am only playing a part in a play tonight, whatever you think you see.”
She nodded and tried to smile. He risked a chaste peck on her cheek then took the stairs to the banqueting hall two at a time.
The whole incident had shaken Crissy to the core. She and Lewis belonged to different worlds and a great gap was fixed between them. Perhaps that was as it should be.
She took one last look into the banqueting hall and saw Lewis standing, talking to the woman who was not supposed to be interested in him. They were laughing together, looking as though they were thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, and presently Lewis led her onto the dance floor.
Crissy had seen enough. She pretended to have been too upset by the incident in the ceilidh, pleaded a headache, and went to bed, where she threw herself down on her mattress and sobbed her heart out.
7
The Proposition (earlier that morning)
Crissy was unaware of the conversation that Lewis had had with his father that evening, but even though she had not been drunk, she woke up with a pounding headache and a feeling of leaden depression. She could recall the events of the evening before with perfect clarity, and cringed at the thought of the wine spilling on the beautiful silk dress of that hateful guest. Even the memory of the shattering glass hurt her ears, so clearly she could recall it.
Her first duty of the morning was to set the firewood in the grates in every room, and she always began with the bedrooms so that they would be warm for the sleepers when they woke up. It was not yet light, so she carried a candle, and she was noiseless as she flitted from room to room.
When she got to Lewis’s chamber she hesitated, preparing herself. She decided that she would keep her light away from the side of the room with the bed on it, since she did not want to see him or speak to him. Everything was just too painful at the moment. She doubted whether he would remember much, though. Ewan and David had to drag him out.
She heard him first, his soft breathing in the darkness seeming louder in the silence all around them. She resolved that she was not going to look at him, but bent to concentrate on her task. When she had finished, she stood up, took a deep breath, and began to make for the door, but somehow she found herself standing by Lewis’s bed, looking down at his sleeping face.
He had drawn his blankets up to his chin against the cold, a childish posture that made her smile, and the arcs of his long dark eyelashes made flickering shadows on his prominent cheekbones. She looked at his mouth with its sensual lower lip and felt her body respond to him at once. She saw a smile twitching the corners of his mouth and she smiled too, wishing she could lie down beside him and cuddle up to his warm hard body, where she had always found a haven. She was sure that she would never find shelter there again.
Outside in the passageway someone had dropped something on the floor and the sound brought her back to Earth. Hastily, she scooped up her baskets of firewood and left.
An hour later Crissy trooped thankfully down to the kitchen for her breakfast, and had just finished her porridge when Fina, her closest friend, came downstairs and beckoned her, leading her upstairs. Puzzled, Crissy followed her and was surprised to see the butler, Gerald McEwan, at the top of the stairs.
“The laird wants to see you, girl,” he said in the patronizing tone upper-level servants often used to those under them. Crissy followed him up to the laird’s office, her heart thumping so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. The butler admitted her and she advanced into the room that was lit with dozens of candles, feeling the deep pile of the carpets under her feet and seeing the satiny shine of polished wood everywhere. She was not responsible for cleaning this part of the castle, therefore she had never been here before. It was magnificent.
She had never seen a picture of a living person before, only dead ones, and the portrait of David Crawford which stared down at her from the wall gave her chills down her spine. It had a gorgeous gold-leafed frame with ornate carvings of fleurs-de-lys and cherubs on it. However, the eyes had a sinister quality; their gaze seemed to follow her around the room, and after one glance, she tried to avoid looking at it. She felt its glare on her though, every second she stood before David Crawford, for he did not invite her to sit down.
The laird was sitting behind the desk and was scrutinizing her, his sharp-featured face taking in every detail of her from her head to her feet.
How much does he know? she thought, as she made a deep curtsey.
She looks like a frightened doe, David thought. He almost felt sorry for her, but not quite. He was determined that this woman would never be his daughter-in-
law. Still, she was a pretty thing with long, fair hair, and large gray-blue eyes. He could see why Lewis’s eyes had strayed towards her.
“Sit down, girl,” David said. Crissy did so, but she perched nervously right on the edge of her seat. “I am sure you are an intelligent young lady and you know why I have summoned you. You want to marry my son.”
Crissy shook her head vigorously. “Naw M’laird. He wants tae marry me,” she said firmly. “I telt him again an’ again we dinnae belong thegither but he willnae take naw for an answer. He should marry some nice girl that he likes of his ain station. I am a housemaid. I cannae read an’ I cannae give ceilidhs an’ dinner parties. I am better aff where I am, M’laird. I have nae wish tae be a lady.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, wondering when this torture was going to end.
The laird considered this for a moment, looking at her thoughtfully. “So you have no interest in my son?” he asked at last.
“I didnae say that, M’laird,” she answered. “I love him wi’ a’ my heart an’ he loves me, but I dinnae want tae ruin his life.”
“Do you not think it better if you leave, then?” the laird asked. “If you are here he can never move on with his life. You will be a constant reminder to him of what he is losing, and will stop him being able to meet any other young ladies.” He paused to let that sink in for a moment.
“An’ where will I go, M’laird?” she asked, looking up. “I have nae home near here an’ a lassie cannae go trampin’ through the Highlands tae get tae Largs in the Lowlands a’ by herself!”
“I can give you money,” the laird said, his voice soft and wheedling. “For your transport. What about ten gold sovereigns and a valuable necklace with a diamond in it?”
Crissy could not believe what she was hearing. She was astonished that the laird was so eager to get rid of her that he would offer her what seemed to her an absolute fortune just to get her out of Lewis’s way.
Seduced By The Noble Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance Page 4
