Читать книгу Yield to the Highlander - Terri Brisbin, Terri Brisbin - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Aidan rode through the gates and past the keep, following the path to the practice yard where his friends waited for him. He’d not ridden out with the other men, but he returned with them after his encounter with Catriona. And returned unsettled by her comment. Before he could think on it and discover the reason, a friend called out to him.

‘Aidan!’

He turned to seek the source of the booming voice and saw Rurik’s son Dougal waving at him. Though younger by a few years, Dougal towered over Aidan and most everyone who lived in Lairig Dubh—except his father.

‘We were waiting for you,’ Dougal explained, waving for him to hurry his pace. ‘They want to challenge us.’

Aidan glanced at the others and knew he and Dougal could and would defeat them. Other than Young Dougal Ruriksson, as he was called here, he nodded at Caelan, Munro and Dougal MacLerie along with Angus MacCallum—a cousin through his mother—who all stood grinning like fools who itched for a fight. Knowing the skills and abilities of himself and Young Dougal and, even more importantly, knowing the weaknesses of the others, Aidan was convinced it was an even match, regardless of four against two.

He shrugged and nodded his acceptance and headed for the yard.

Dougal MacLerie, brother to Elizabeth and the friend closest to Aidan’s own age, walked alongside him as they entered the yard and picked their weapons from among the supply there. Younger boys ran around, trying to help them all, and news of the challenge spread through all the men training there. Soon a crowd encircled the large enclosure, coin and wagers changing hands as many watching offered their opinions about the match.

‘You have been spending more time in the village than is your custom, Aidan,’ Dougal said, lifting a sword and swinging it to get the best grip on it.

‘You know what that means,’ Caelan, Duncan’s son, added.

‘A woman,’ Angus offered. ‘Another bloody woman.’

They laughed for Angus’s unsuccessful attempts at seducing one of the women who worked in the keep’s kitchens were known to them all.

‘So who is it this time?’ Munro asked. ‘The widow who moved in with her brother, the smith? Surely not Old Ronald’s daughter?’

They all laughed at him as they took positions on the field, expecting him to reveal his newest interest. He always did. Just as Aidan opened his mouth to speak her name, the realisation sank in—Munro was Gowan’s son. Shite!

‘Who says there’s a woman involved at all?’ he asked, raising his sword and standing back to back with Young Dougal.

‘When is there not a woman?’ Munro called out to him.

The others nodded in agreement with him and then all gazes were on Aidan. Better not to stir this particular cauldron right now. Instead, he stopped talking about it at all and ran at the closest one—Caelan. And then mayhem, though somewhat controlled mayhem at that, descended and they were all too busy to talk at all.

Moving in a circle, with Young Dougal at his back, they kept the others a few paces back, tiring them and then, at his word, beating them into submission. He’d fought with Young Dougal at his back, much as their fathers had fought many times, and each time they were successful. Laughing as he knocked the last one standing to the ground, he held out his hand to Young Dougal and shook it when he grasped it.

‘Good fight! You will have to show me how you made that last move,’ he said to his fighting partner as his friends climbed to their feet and dusted the dirt of the yard from themselves.

‘Something my father showed me the other day,’ Young Dougal said.

Rurik was a legendary warrior and had led the MacLerie warriors into battle for decades. That he shared his knowledge of fighting with his son, as his own father had, did not surprise Aidan.

His friends did not remain disgruntled for long after their defeat. Not insulted that others had made coins off their loss, the men accepted his offer of ale in the keep. They stopped by one of the barrels that collected rain and washed. His mother would expect no less in her keep and everyone respected the lady’s wishes.

* * *

When they sat at table and had been served, done reviewing the fight and planning another test of skills, Aidan thought on Catriona’s words and the fear in her gaze as she spoke to him—nay, as she pleaded with him to leave her be.

Seduction should be a pleasant process—each one taking a teasing step forward and then retreating to allow the other’s invite to further the relationship. Seduction, he had always thought, should be fun and filled with even parts of laughter and breathless, hot pleasures of the flesh. Seduction might involve persuasion, but should never involve force.

Her words made him feel as though he had forced himself upon her and Aidan had never done that with any woman.

Oh, for a certain, some women he’d slept with needed more persuading and convincing than others, but each was as different as were the circumstances of his interest.

Had he misread the signs in her flirting? Had he ignored them in his desire to have her? Aidan took a couple of mouthfuls of his ale, only half-paying heed to the discussion going on around him. Thinking on their first meeting at the well, he pondered how best to approach her now. If for nothing other than his own need to know, he would speak to her, bluntly, and find out why she feared him so.

‘I told you it was a woman!’ Angus called from the other end of the table. Holding up his cup, he nodded at Aidan. ‘To your success in another bed in Lairig Dubh! May you soon begin to share some of it with me!’

Aidan caught sight of a serving girl scurrying off towards the solar and knew word of his exploits would be shared, among the servants who worked here, his family and anyone who would listen. Everyone knew he’d stopped visiting the lovely Sima some weeks ago. That was old gossip by now and everyone who was curious, but waited for the news of his newest conquest.

He almost hoped that his parents would begin talking about their search for an appropriate wife so that attentions would be turned in that direction. And he would be free to pursue Catriona without the prying eyes and loose tongues spoiling his efforts at discretion. Mayhap he would guide the gossip down that new path himself?

‘Have I told you yet that my parents seek a bride for me?’ he asked no one in particular. ‘They are considering potential wives at this moment.’

Silence reigned for a very long moment as that bit of news echoed through the hall. If he was correct, it would take until no later than supper this night for everyone in Lairig Dubh to learn of his impending marriage to...whomever his parents chose. That would give him the distraction he needed to find some time to speak to Catriona.

Glancing across the table as his friends mumbled their words of congratulations for his future marriage, he realised that the perfect way to see her again sat there before him, raising a cup to his happiness.

* * *

Catriona stirred the ingredients in the cast-iron pot over the fire once more, adding a bit more water so the thick stew boiling and bubbling within it would not burn on to the metal. The aroma of the vegetables and herbs spread throughout the cottage as it cooked. The freshly baked bread lay wrapped in cloth and the crock of butter waited next to it on the table. A plain meal, but Munro said nothing more was needed for him and the friend he brought to sup with them this evening.

The recently swept floor was clean and the pallet’s blankets were smoothed into place. She glanced around one more time as she heard Munro’s voice and approach on the path to her, their, door. Guests of her husband and his son did not happen often and they must be made welcome or her lack of manners would reflect on her husband. So, Cat tucked the loosened strands of hair back inside the kerchief she wore, smoothed down the skirt of her gown and stood up as the door opened.

Any words of greeting she’d planned to speak to Munro’s guest disappeared as she met the piercing amber gaze of Aidan MacLerie. Only when Munro frowned did she realise she must look like a gaping idiot. Dropping into a curtsy and bowing her head, she whispered a greeting as she should.

‘Good evening, my lord. Welcome to Gowan and Munro’s home.’

Munro nodded slightly from his place at his friend’s side, apparently pleased now with her welcome. He stepped inside and closed the door behind them. Still slowed by the shock of seeing the earl’s son inside her cottage, she did not move.

‘My thanks to you for your hospitality and allowing me to accompany Munro to supper,’ he said, his deep voice causing the most alarming reaction—gooseflesh rose on the skin of her arms at the sound. ‘And especially for being so gracious without much warning.’

Good Lord, she’d forgotten to offer him a cup! So much for hospitality and good manners, she thought as she tried to regain control over herself.

‘Would you like some ale, my lord? Or water?’ she asked, walking to the table and lifting a cup and waiting for his choice to fill it from one of the pitchers there.

‘I brought a skin of my mother’s favourite wine. I thought we could share it?’ he answered smoothly, holding it out to her. The dimple in his chin became more pronounced as did the amusement in his gaze when she finally gained the courage to meet his eyes.

‘That was kind of you,’ she said, reaching to take it from him. His fingers grazed hers, not by accident, she suspected, as he let it go. ‘And kind of Lady Jocelyn to share such a luxury with us.’

‘She may not know,’ he whispered to her before turning back to her stepson. ‘As an apology of sorts, Munro, for beating your sorry arse into the ground today.’

Uncertain of how Gowan’s son would take such a comment, she waited to see his reaction. After a short hesitation, he surprised her by laughing right in Aidan’s face. And, although she usually saw his sullen, disagreeable side, his amusement seemed genuine. Cat felt some of the tension in the cottage ease. Pouring some of the deep-red wine into two cups, she handed one to their guest and then one to Munro.

‘And you, Mistress MacKenzie? Where is your cup?’

Cat froze at his words. Would Munro pick up that he knew her already? Most around here were MacLeries, whether close or distant relation did not matter. Very few went by other names. Instead of waiting for Munro to point it out, she shook her head and held up the empty cup and filled it from the pitcher of ale.

‘Wine is too strong a drink for me, my lord. It goes right to my head. So I will leave it to you two to enjoy and drink the ale.’ At the darkening of Munro’s gaze, she turned to Aidan. ‘If you do not mind, my lord?’ She motioned to them to sit at the table, never waiting for his reply.

‘I do not mind at all, Munro,’ he said to his friend and not to her. He understood that Munro would take more offence to her declining such a gift. Wine such as that was too costly for their table. ‘I would not want to see your stepmother light-headed or otherwise affected this night.’

Had he actually spoken ‘this night’ more loudly or had she just imagined it? As though on another night such a reaction would be desired?

Shaking her head, trying to clear such thoughts, Cat took the bowls from the shelf and ladled the lamb stew into each. Though she’d planned that this would last for several more meals, she knew that these two, strong young men would empty the pot with their appetites. Since there really was no choice in this—to offer less than everything would be an insult to the lord’s son—she filled their bowls and placed them on the table.

Then with her own bowl half-filled, she sat across from the very man she’d been trying to avoid—avoid thinking about, avoid talking about and avoid talking to. If she thought this an innocent invitation from one friend to another, the merriment in his eyes as he met hers confirmed just the opposite. He’d planned this all, using Munro as the way to get here. Having no choice but to offer hospitality and company, Cat took the chunk of bread offered by Gowan’s son and dipped it in her stew.

This would the longest meal of her life.

* * *

Aidan tried not to laugh—first at the surprise on her face when she saw him and then at the way she tried not to allow him to see how affected she was by him. When he’d decided that the only way to know why she feared him so was to know her more closely, Munro seemed the obvious way to do that. It was not difficult to wheedle an invitation to his father’s cottage for dinner.

Now, as he and Munro talked about the day’s events, upcoming duties and plans to travel to several of the other MacLerie holdings, Aidan never took his attention from her. He noticed the way the edges of her mouth curved when she smiled, the way she savoured and chewed the succulent chunks of lamb and turnips and the way she tried not to stare at him.

At first, she seemed intent on staying apart by sitting on the other side of the table from him and Munro and even staying out of any of the talk. But her nervousness seemed to ease and she offered a few softly spoken comments to the conversation. He noticed that any attempts to ask about her own life before coming to Lairig Dubh were neatly directed to another topic or turned into questions about him or Munro even.

Aidan glanced around the cottage as they ate. He noticed it was plainly furnished, but clean. Similar in size to most of the cottages on this lane, he saw nothing that seemed to say this was her home there. Two trunks sat along the back wall. Munro had told him that although she’d been married to Gowan for about eight years, they’d only moved here about two years ago. That was time enough to make this her home and yet, it was not.

As the meal continued, he watched her as much as he could. And his body reacted when he realised that she, too, stole glances of him just as much. If she was fearful or reticent, her eyes never gave it away. Though he had enjoyed the shocked expression when they’d walked in, the soft smile she gave when he offered her the loaf of bread pleased him more.

He wanted to speak to her alone, but prodding Munro into inviting him here was the first step. Put her at ease with his presence and then further their acquaintance...hopefully much, much further.

Soon, too soon for his liking, they finished eating the simple but tasty meal and he could draw out his time there no longer. They rose as he did and he shook Munro’s hand, with words about their duties on the morrow. Walking to the door, he turned back and spoke to Catriona.

‘My thanks again for the warm welcome in spite of the lateness of the plans, Mistress MacKenzie.’

‘Any friend of Munro’s will find himself welcomed in his father’s home, my lord,’ she said, dipping into a curtsy before him.

He reached out and took her hand, guiding her back to standing instead of the cowering position she’d taken.

‘When you say “my lord”, I look for my father,’ he said, looking to Munro first. ‘Now that we are known to each other and seeing that I am friend to Munro, you may call me by my given name. I pray you, call me only Aidan.’

She tried to free her hand from his grasp, but he held it firmly as he waited for her reaction. His body tightened, his blood heated, as he waited to finally hear the sound of his name spoken in that earthy tone of voice.

‘Oh, my lord, I could not be so familiar with you. You are the earl’s son, after all,’ she said, laughing as she used her other hand to loosen his fingers from around hers. ‘It would clearly be disrespectful to do so.’ The lightness in her voice slipped when she turned to Munro, who wore a dark frown now. ‘Though since it is your request that I do so...I will ask my husband for his permission when he returns.’

Aidan nearly laughed aloud at how smartly she’d slipped his noose and reminded him once again that she had a husband. With a simple phrase, she placed that husband directly between them and in his path should he be pursuing her! He could not force the issue now without making Munro suspicious, so he nodded and smiled at her.

‘A wise woman who relishes the guidance of her husband,’ he said, nudging Munro with his elbow. ‘May we both be so blessed with wives as obedient as your father’s when we marry, Munro.’

He could only describe her expression as equal amounts of anger, satisfaction and... Something else swirled in those bright blue eyes. Something he could not identify, though he hoped it was anticipation. Deciding that leaving was the best thing to do at this moment, he lifted the latch and pulled open the door.

‘Good evening to you both,’ he said with a nod as he stepped outside.

Aidan did not turn back to look, though he wanted to savour every moment in her company. Part of him feared the door would slam in his face, but somehow part knew that she would never dare such a thing...at least not in front of Munro.

The way his groin tightened told him he wanted to see more of the slamming-door Catriona than the one who seemed to cling to polite behaviour. Though she hid herself behind the plain garb and manners of a goodwife, Aidan suspected that there was so much more to Mistress Catriona MacKenzie.

And after this meal together and after catching enticing glimpses of the spirit of the woman that lay hidden, he knew he wanted her even more.