Читать книгу Yield to the Highlander - Terri Brisbin - Страница 13

Chapter Five

The man was everywhere.

For someone of such a high position and with duties to see to, Cat had no idea of how Aidan MacLerie managed to be in the village so much. Or how it was always as she made her way through her days and chores and errands.

When she went to get water at the well, she spied him nearby.

When she washed clothing by the side of the stream, he sat on horseback some yards away.

When she visited the miller and the bakehouse or the butcher, he would cross her path unexpectedly.

Each encounter was brief and, if any exchange of words was possible, it was only a polite word of greeting. He always greeted any other person in the vicinity, too, so it did not look untoward to others. But the heat in his gaze was only for her and she knew it.

This morn had dawned dark and dreary with rain coming in fierce, windy waves, interspersed with only brief respites of calm. Few of the villagers braved the weather, but she’d promised to help Muireall again and she could not let something as predictable as rain stop her. As she darted along the muddied paths, holding her skirts above the worst of it and pulling her arisaid over her head to keep the torrents from soaking her too quickly, she never noticed him in front of her.

Cat hit the wall of his muscular chest and stumbled off the lane. The length of her skirts and the arisaid tripped up her feet and she careened towards a large puddle off to the side of the path. Tangled in layers of cloth, she had no chance to save herself from landing in the cold, filthy water there. She scrunched her eyes closed, pulled in a ragged breath and prepared herself for the shock of the frigid pool.

She never hit the water.

His strong arms encircled her, holding her only inches from the surface of the puddle, before pulling her up and against his body.

‘Have a care, Mistress MacKenzie,’ he whispered as he put her on her feet and righted her cloak, exposing her face to his. ‘Running with your head so low can be dangerous.’

Cat tried to take a breath, but could not. His hands surrounded her still and she could feel the heat escaping from his body. She raised her head so she could see him from under the edge of the woollen cloak and found his gaze a penetrating one instead of the usual amused one. She tried to think of a humorous response to his admonishment so she could be on her way, but all thoughts of placating him vanished when his mouth took hers.

Hot. Hard. Wet.

Thoughts fled. Breathing stopped. The rain and everything else disappeared.

He pulled her closer then, tilted his face and possessed her mouth, sliding his tongue deep within and tasting her.

After a single, reckless moment of complete oblivion, she realised what he, what they, were doing and she pushed her way out of his embrace, wiping the back of her hand across her lips.

But that kiss could not be undone. The boldness she expected from this brash, lusty young warrior, but she should have better protected herself from this kind of embrace and kiss. This kiss spoke of entitlement and forbidden passion and dishonouring herself and her vows of faithfulness. This kiss led to more. This kiss led to....

Cat lifted her hand and delivered a stinging slap to his face. The sound of it echoed in the air around them as the shadow of her hand imprinted in red on his cheek. He blinked several times before letting his hands drop from her shoulders.

‘How dare you!’ she said, looking around to see if anyone witnessed this illicit gesture. ‘I do not know what gave you the idea that I would violate my vows to Gowan, but I will not. I am an honourable woman and I owe....’ Her eyes burned and she prayed that the rain would disguise the tears she felt pouring forth. She took a step back and lowered her voice.

‘You may think that you have the right to claim whatever woman catches your eye...and you might have that right, but I beg you to look elsewhere, my lord,’ she warned. ‘I will not be a willing party to your misguided, youthful escapades.’

He’d not spoken a word. He’d not moved or in any way reacted to her slap or her words. Cat understood that there was really nothing she could do if he decided to have her, but she hoped her objections would matter before he took another step in his apparent plan to seduce her.

Suddenly aware of what she’d done, she once more lifted her skirts and ran, this time with an eye on the path ahead and without daring to look back at him. As she made her way to Muireall’s, she glanced through the heavy rain to see if anyone was about and could have seen them. The paths and walkways seemed empty and she prayed no one had been about.

Arriving out of breath and soaked to the skin by her haste, she knocked on her friend’s door. Cat allowed only a momentary pause before opening the door and she closed it behind her immediately, leaning against it as though it would keep him out.

As if anything would keep him from a place or a thing...or a person...he wanted. She shivered from the cold of the rain and from the heat that yet raced through her from that simple but forbidden touching of two mouths.

‘Here now, Catriona,’ Muireall said, taking hold of her and pulling her towards the hearth where the children huddled.

The heat of the fire there kept the dampness of the storm from spreading inside. Cat allowed Muireall to lead her there and to pull the wet woollen cloak from around her and replace it with a dry blanket. Soon, a cup of heated broth filled her hands and she tried to stop the trembling that shook her now.

‘What happened?’ her friend asked. Muireall’s hand steadied the cup and guided it to her mouth. ‘Drink more before you answer. You are still shivering.’

Cat sipped the broth and peered over the rim of it at the three little faces staring at her from their places. The eldest, a boy, was the caretaker, gently but firmly guiding his two younger sisters to a safe distance away from the fire’s heat. The older girl rocked the nearby cradle while humming a tune that Cat had heard Muireall sing many times. The younger daughter leaned against her sister, her thumb being suckled noisily while she gazed at Cat.

A pang of loss struck her as she watched those bairns and tried to regain her control. She would never have children. She could never have them. No matter how much she wanted or prayed it to be so, she would not conceive and bear her husband babes of their own. At other times, she could keep the emptiness away, but the old feelings forced to the surface by the tumultuous kiss now grew stronger.

Tears threatened once more and these would be witnessed and unexplainable. So, she took a deep breath and let it out. Then she drank the rest of the broth before offering the cup back to Muireall. Hoping for the courage she needed, she smiled and nodded.

‘My thanks for your gentle care.’ She allowed the blanket to fall from her shoulders and straightened on the stool. ‘I lost my footing and almost landed in a puddle the size of the loch. I thought my ankle twisted.’ A small lie to keep her friend from getting close to the truth.

‘Let me see it.’ Muireall was on her knees before Cat in an instant. The bairns took it as a sign they could play and they climbed on her back, throwing their arms around her neck and pulling her over. ‘Ah, my wee urchins! ’Tis not playtime now. Catriona’s foot is hurt.’ As Cat watched, her friend peeled the children off, one at a time, and put them back in their places with a kiss on their small faces.

With a poke and a prod, her ankle was checked with a thoroughness that any healer or physician would be proud of and declared all was well. And the time it took for Muireall to do that gave Cat the opportunity to gather her wits and calm herself. Now, the blanket was too warm, so she rose, folded it and placed it back on the trunk where it belonged. When she turned back, Muireall stood there before her.

‘Are you well?’ Cat could hear the sceptical tone underlying the words.

‘I was out of breath from running to get out of the rain and then tripped. I am well now, though.’ Cat leaned over to glance and nod at the children. ‘What can I help you with today?’ she asked. If she’d thought her friend would be diverted, she was wrong.

‘So explain to me how a near fall into a puddle leaves you looking well kissed?’

* * *

He lost track of how long he stood there in the teeming rain. His body ached from her brief but arousing nearness and from the hot taste of her mouth. Every moment of the brief encounter refuelled his desire for her.

The way her eyes had widened as he clutched her to him, avoiding the muck and cold of the puddle. The way her mouth had dropped open as she met his gaze. The way she had tasted as his tongue explored her mouth for that brief, brief caress. His body bucked again, his cock full and aching to be within her, as he thought on the kiss.

And, though her reaction was not the one he wanted, Aidan finally saw the fire that always lay banked within her gaze. The slap had surprised them both—the flare of shock and then anger had turned her eyes to an icy blue. His cheek yet stung from the sharp reproach for his behaviour. That she had done it did not anger him.

’Twas her words that bothered him as they put his entire campaign out between them. Seduction was simply a game to play while waiting for the more serious parts of his life to commence. While waiting to take on more duties and while waiting for that much-discussed wife. It was what men, especially young men, did. But now, in the cold, steady rain that helped to cool his ardour, it seemed tawdry and small-minded.

Especially for the son of Connor MacLerie. For the man who would some day rule over the vast lands of the MacLerie clan.

No matter that he wanted her and would bed her if she came willing, this game had to end. He would no longer contrive to meet up with the lovely Catriona MacKenzie in the village, on the roads or in the keep. No matter that the kiss had fired his blood in an unfamiliar and exciting way. None of it mattered for the woman had refused him.

He wiped the rain from his face and walked back to where he’d tethered his horse. Vaulting on to its back, he gathered the reins in his hands and guided the animal through the muddied lanes and up the hill to reach the keep. With a call to the guards on duty at the gate and on the walls surrounding the yard and keep, he entered his home.

His fascination with Gowan’s wife would be a thing of the past. His attempts to seduce her had gone unnoticed and would remain just some harmless fun between them.

Just some harmless fun.

His father would have tasks for him. His mother would wish to discuss his thoughts on the potential brides. As he climbed the steps to enter the great hall, leaving his mount with a boy in the yard, he realised that the one objection to any of the women named—he did not wish to consider a MacKenzie bride because he was pursuing one of her kin—was now moot.

* * *

The butcher’s son was delivering supplies to the keep and was not happy about it. Young Ronald, named for his father and his father before him, had the unhappy duty of following the cart to the kitchens and unloading it. Being only ten, it was a torturous assignment for it kept him from splashing his way through every puddle in the village during a storm such as this one.

Finally finished and dismissed by his uncle, Young Ronald ran from the keep, jumping over the rivers of water that traced patterns and grooves down the hill to the village. Knowing his friends would be waiting by the end of the lane, he raced through the mud, almost losing a shoe to the sticky, gooey mud that sucked at his every step.

He spied what looked to be a deep puddle off to the side and would have raced through it, but a woman and a man stood next to it. Veering around the small house in his path, he came out the other side just in time to see the man grab the woman up and kiss her.

Shuddering and grimacing against the horror of it, he waited for them to move on so he could plunge into the puddle, which now looked deep enough to call a pool. A moment later, the woman slapped the man holding and kissing her and pushed away.

Good that, it meant they would leave sooner and he could have the puddle all to himself. Better, he knew if he told his oldest sister Meg about who was kissing whom in the shadows during the storm, she would reward him with a warm tart. Or one of her special pies. Sighing over memories of how his sister’s baking tasted and smelled, he stepped closer to get a look at who these two were.

The man was the earl’s son. Kissing women—Young Ronald could not help that he grimaced again—seemed to be something Aidan MacLerie enjoyed for he was always in the village visiting this one or that one. He shrugged and was ready to leave, for the young lord kissing a woman was so commonplace it would get him no reward at all, when the woman turned and he saw her face.

Old Gowan’s wife.

Old Gowan was one of the earl’s best soldiers. He’d even showed Ronald how to wield a sword—well, a wooden one—and shown him how to duck a blow. He knew Old Gowan and he knew Old Gowan’s wife. And sure enough, that was her that Aidan MacLerie kissed.

Meg would probably give him an extra tart for this news!

The two left, each going in their own way, giving Young Ronald an open path to the puddle. As he jumped and landed in the centre with both feet, the water exploded around him and rushed in waves over the side of the big hole that formed it. Now, more empty than not, it would take time to refill.

So, he wiped his face and ran off to find his friends, the secret he carried forgotten for the time being.