Книга - Yield to the Highlander

Yield to the Highlander
Terri Brisbin


CLAIMING WHAT’S FORBIDDENFearsome warrior Aidan MacLerie may be brave and unquestionably loyal to his family and clan, but his heart remains restless. Until he meets stunning Catriona MacKenzie. She’s a married woman, so he can never truly possess her, yet he seeks her surrender – one kiss at a time…When her husband from her loveless marriage falls on the battlefield Cat is left destitute, with her reputation in tatters. Aidan is the only man with the power to protect her now. All she has to do is yield to this powerful Highlander.









‘But you have not told me what you expect from me when you come here—if, as you say, you will visit each night.’


‘I expect nothing other than your good company,’ he said. And that was true. In that moment he did want only that.

A laugh escaped from her—a wonderful sound to his ears—and she gifted him with the smile he’d wanted to see. It was the first sign of joy in her face in weeks.

‘And you expect me to believe that? After you have all but promised to seduce me into your bed?’

She did not appear to be opposed to it, so he would bide his time. ‘I would not mind that either,’ he admitted.




AUTHOR NOTE


When I wrote TAMING THE HIGHLANDER in 2005 it was a stand-alone story and I never planned to write any other stories connected to the MacLerie Clan. I had no idea that I would become so wrapped up in their family that in the end I would write ten MacLerie romances—including two about their descendants in Regency times! So it is bittersweet to come to the last story, and somehow fitting that it should be about the heir of Connor MacLerie.

Aidan MacLerie has lived a charmed and privileged life and now must make decisions that will shape his future and that of his clan. Falling in love with the wrong woman is not the best choice he’s made in his life, but now he faces the consequences and his father’s ire.

I hope you have enjoyed watching these wonderful Highlanders and the women they love as much as I have enjoyed writing their stories.

Sláinte!


Yield to the

Highlander

Terri Brisbin






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


DEDICATION

During my writing career I’ve discovered those times when the empty page mocks me and torments me, daring me to fill it with words worthy of being read. In those dark times (and in the good times, too) two particular groups of writers have proved indispensable to me during my writing years—the Hussies and the Hermits.

To the Hussies—the Harlequin Historical authors—thanks for being my safe place in the craziness of writing and publishing these last years. Whether I need answers, advice, help with titles or just camaraderie, you provide it … 24/7/365.

To the Hermits—the wonderful group of writers who gather each year in Lowcountry SC to write on the beach—thanks for being there to help me recover, recuperate, revive and refocus!


TERRI BRISBIN is wife to one, mother of three, and dental hygienist to hundreds when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised, and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England.

Readers are invited to visit her website for more information at www.terribrisbin.com (http://www.terribrisbin.com), or to contact her at PO Box 41, Berlin, NJ 08009-0041, USA.

Previous novels by the same author:

THE DUMONT BRIDE

LOVE AT FIRST STEP

(short story in The Christmas Visit) THE NORMAN’S BRIDE THE COUNTESS BRIDE THE EARL’S SECRET TAMING THE HIGHLANDER† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) SURRENDER TO THE HIGHLANDER† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) POSSESSED BY THE HIGHLANDER† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) BLAME IT ON THE MISTLETOE (short story in One Candlelit Christmas) THE MAID OF LORNE THE CONQUEROR’S LADY* (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) THE MERCENARY’S BRIDE* (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) HIS ENEMY’S DAUGHTER* (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) THE HIGHLANDER’S STOLEN TOUCH† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) AT THE HIGHLANDER’S MERCY† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) THE HIGHLANDER’S DANGEROUS TEMPTATION† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad)

And in Mills & Boon


HistoricalUndone!eBooks:

A NIGHT FOR HER PLEASURE* (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad) TAMING THE HIGHLAND ROGUE† (#ulink_08e7c4db-6fd0-58eb-b957-cf5c535b5bad)

And in M&B:

WHAT THE DUCHESS WANTS

(part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages) THE FORBIDDEN HIGHLANDER (part of Highlanders)

* (#ulink_b34caad0-ceec-5814-a618-237c3737a59a)The Knights of Brittany† (#ulink_b34caad0-ceec-5814-a618-237c3737a59a)The MacLerie Clan

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Chapter One (#u9c0801be-5358-5af2-8cdc-523b7cc4d2f1)

Chapter Two (#u3895567e-a58a-5633-b36b-069fd1b7a29d)

Chapter Three (#uf8a490a7-2021-5b2c-8312-f71e24664155)

Chapter Four (#u54a62906-6db6-541f-9d10-727981a41cbc)

Chapter Five (#ub4f703ce-beda-57c6-9e02-e2594e5deadf)

Chapter Six (#u5a5beacb-4dd2-5641-af00-e844e0335017)

Chapter Seven (#u82385bfe-1cb9-5a32-9461-fd29f1b1853a)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

She was not the usual type of woman to catch his eye, but she had.

Aidan MacLerie decided to stop and quench his thirst at the well in the middle of the village on his way back to the keep. His men had continued on up the hill to the wives and families who awaited their return while Aidan paused. This place was one of his favourites for finding companionship of the female kind and he’d rarely been disappointed.

He dipped into the bucket and watched her approach over the rim of the cup as he drank from it. She did not walk as much as saunter, her lush hips swaying as she crossed from the path to the well. She carried a bucket in her arms, pressing against breasts he imagined were as shapely as her hips. From the kerchief she wore to cover her hair, he knew she was a married woman, or mayhap his other favourite—a widow.

Widows were fair game for his attentions. And they were experienced in lovemaking and the way of the world around them, so they held no illusions about the place any affair held in his life. She glanced up and smiled softly at him, making his body harden and ready itself for pleasure.

Oh, aye, she would be different from his usual bedmates, but pleasure would be theirs. She would be his.

‘Good day,’ he said, smiling back at her and standing as she moved closer to the well. ‘Here—’ he reached out for the bucket ‘—allow me to fill that for you.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said in a voice that sent spirals of desire through him. Feminine with earthy, lush tones that matched the rest of her. She would cry out his name in that voice soon as he filled her and as he led her to reach her own release. He distracted himself by tossing the well’s bucket down and then pulling it up when it filled.

‘You know who I am?’ he asked. Aidan did not remember ever meeting this woman before.

‘Aye, my lord,’ she said, taking the now full bucket from him. ‘You are the earl’s eldest son.’

‘Aidan,’ he said. He needed to hear his name spoken by her mouth. His cock stood, his flesh tingled and his blood seethed in anticipation. ‘My name is Aidan.’

‘Aye, my lord,’ she said. She began to back away, nodding in courtesy, but he had no intention of allowing her to escape before he discovered her identity.

‘You have me at a disadvantage, mistress. You know who I am, yet I do not remember meeting you.’

‘We have never met, my lord. I am Catriona MacKenzie,’ she answered. She met his gaze and he took note that she was older than he’d first thought, possibly older than he.

‘How did a MacKenzie come to be in Lairig Dubh?’ The MacKenzies had been adversaries of the MacLeries for a long time until Aidan’s brother-by-marriage, Rob Matheson, had forced both clans to negotiations that eased the tensions between the two most powerful clans in the Highlands.

‘I married Gowan MacLerie.’ Simple and direct and it might have dashed a lesser man’s hopes. But not his.

Gowan was one of Rurik’s men and a good deal older than both Aidan and his wife. And he was a skillful trainer of warriors who was often away from Lairig Dubh at the earl’s other holdings. He smiled then, the possibilities expanding with every moment. Not willing to let her get away yet, he stepped closer and took the bucket from her and motioned for her to lead him.

‘Allow me to carry this for you,’ he said.

She looked as though she would argue for her lovely mouth pursed and her deep-blue eyes flashed like ice. But after a very short hesitation, she turned and led him down one of the smaller paths that headed towards a cluster of cottages. And Aidan took advantage to study Mistress Catriona MacKenzie as she walked in front of him.

Wisps of dark brown hair escaped her kerchief and Aidan fought the urge to pull it free. He wondered if her hair would fall below that beautiful arse of hers and sway as she walked. Reaching down and using the bucket to cover his actions, he tugged his trews loose to allow for the erection that was not going to ease. At least not until he’d found a way to get Mistress MacKenzie in his bed, naked and writhing and open to his touch.

She turned down a path to their left and stopped before the last cottage. Glancing around, he listened for any sign that others were nearby. Although he did not usually seek out married women, he did not ignore them either and this was one he’d decided to pursue. He would be discreet and not embarrass her or her husband unnecessarily, but he would have her.

Soon.

She turned to face him, holding out her hands to take the bucket. Instead, he put it down and took one of her outstretched hands in his, lifting it to his mouth. A slight tug gave away her nervousness, then she acquiesced.

‘My thanks for your assistance, my lord,’ she said, trying to put a distance between them that his grasp made impossible.

‘Until we next meet, mistress,’ Aidan whispered.

He kissed the top of her hand and then turned it over and placed his mouth on her wrist. He met her gaze and slowly touched the tip of his tongue to the place where her pulse beat close beneath the skin there. Her surprised gasp echoed in the stillness around them.

Aidan released her hand, trying not to stare at her breasts as he noticed the way her nipples had tightened and were visible through the fabric of her gown. He smiled and did not hide it, as she crossed her arms over her chest and drew her shawl up on to her shoulders to cover herself.

Turning without another word to her, he strode back along the path towards the well, memorising the way as he went. Aidan could read the excitement in her body and hear it in the way her breathing became shallow and quick. His next visit would be under the cover of darkness, so he paid attention to the number of paths and cottages and other details. By the time he arrived back at the keep and reported to his father, his plans for this newest seduction were set.

Mistress Catriona MacKenzie would be warming his bed, or he would warm hers, very, very soon.

* * *

Cat stood like a statue, unable to move or to look away as the young lord strode down the path. The skin of her wrist was warm and moist from the touch of his mouth and tongue. Bold and brash, Aidan MacLerie had kissed her as though she was a young girl and as though she wanted his attentions.

Which she did not.

Still, she watched until he passed out of her view and a wicked part of her hoped he’d turn back to look at her once more. Those cat-like amber eyes of his never wavered while he studied her. She’d seen the earl one day and now she knew that his son had inherited the father’s good looks and colouring, especially those eyes. She shivered now, but feared examining the reason too closely.

Cat lifted the bucket from where he’d left it and carried it inside. Tossing her shawl aside, she poured some of the water in the waiting jug on the table and the rest into the waiting cauldron in the hearth. She moved about the room, gathering together the ingredients for the stew she would make for their evening meal, trying all the time to ignore the feelings that pulsed within her. Once the meat and vegetables were in the pot, she tugged off her kerchief and laughed.

Boredom must have driven him to flirt with her at the well. Boredom plain and simple. For, truly, what other reason could explain it? She was older than he was—almost six years stood between them if she had heard correctly. She was married to one of his father’s men. And, no matter if her body trembled and her skin and blood seemed on fire from his attentions, she was an honourable woman who took her promised vows seriously.

Cat laughed again and shook her head, deciding to just accept that it was the nonsensical flirtation of a young man with nothing better to do. Gowan was away and would return on the morrow, but she still had to prepare a meal for his son, Munro.

* * *

She carried out her daily chores and enjoyed a quiet meal at day’s end. It wasn’t until she lay on her pallet waiting for sleep to take its hold that she allowed herself to enjoy the impossible attentions of a younger man that would come to nothing more than the few minutes of excitement it had been.

Her life was not harder than most others who lived in Lairig Dubh. Gowan had offered her marriage and that had taken her from the terrible circumstances of her early years and given her an honourable place. He did not require much of her and she did not begrudge him anything he wanted from her. Being ten years older than her, he did not expect more children and he’d also long since stopped seeking her bed. With a son raised and part of the laird’s warriors, Gowan was a simple man who made few demands on her.

So, the playful flirting of one young man meant nothing, but it had made her smile. And she felt a pang of bittersweet loss, too, for it reminded her of the subtle joys of courting that she’d missed in her life. As she drifted off to sleep, it was not her husband’s face that filled her dreams, but that of Aidan MacLerie.

* * *

Yet those dreams were so heated and so filled with passionate bedplay that guilt filled her as she heard Gowan’s voice call out as he approached their cottage the next day. How could such a small, innocent encounter affect her so much?

Gowan’s return brought her normal life back and, over the next sennight, she could almost forget the way the earl’s son had looked at this soldier’s wife.

Almost.


Chapter Two

‘What do you think of this, Aidan?’

He’d long ago given the report of the results of his latest assignment to those here, so Aidan’s thoughts had drifted from whatever was the matter at hand to the lush figure of the woman he desired most. Glancing around at the clan elders and his father’s other counsellors, he had no intention of revealing his thoughts, though if he stood now the matter would be quite clear to everyone there.

Aidan tried to remember what the discussion had been when he caught Rurik’s eye. His father’s most loyal friend and the leader of all his warriors gave him a knowing wink. Also his godfather, Rurik knew of Aidan’s love of the fairer sex and Aidan had sought his advice several times when asking his father would have been too difficult or embarrassing. Rurik took it in his stride and, apparently, kept his eye on Aidan’s activities. Finally remembering the last topic, he looked at his father.

‘I think you should gather the newer soldiers together in one place and let some of the experienced commanders train them,’ he said, hoping his suggestion sounded like a reasonable one.

His father raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Tempted to say something, anything, to break the silence, he knew better than that. Connor MacLerie would consider his words and weigh the merits and disadvantages of any plan, whether his first-born son’s or his most trusted advisor’s. Aidan watched as his father met the gazes of one after another of his counsellors and then turned back and spoke to him again.

‘And who should I assign to this task?’ he asked.

Aidan rose then and went to fill his cup before speaking. Several names came to mind—all experienced, capable warriors—and he offered them. ‘Black Rob. Iain. Calum,’ he said.

‘Micheil,’ Rurik offered. ‘And we will need one more to work with the number of new soldiers we have, Connor.’

‘Gowan.’ The name escaped Aidan’s mouth before he truly thought it through, but it was right for so many reasons that he repeated it. ‘Gowan should be there.’

Aidan held his breath, waiting for his father’s decision. This task would take several weeks, if not almost two months, and it would keep Gowan far enough away that he could not interfere with Aidan’s plans for Catriona. It would give him uninterrupted weeks to follow her, weaken any resistance or hesitation she might have and seduce her and make her his. A smile threatened, one which would be hard to explain, so he took a deep swallow of his wine instead.

‘Rurik, what think you of Aidan’s choices?’ his father asked.

Rurik crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. A good sign or bad, Rurik gave no sign of his opinion for several moments. Then, with a nod, he confirmed them.

‘Give the orders and make the arrangements,’ his father said, putting down his cup and nodding to several of the men there.

Aidan held his breath, not daring to believe his luck in this. Within a day, two at the most, Gowan would be gone from Lairig Dubh and he could pursue the fair and lovely Catriona without interference. He watched as the men left and his father remained with Duncan and Rurik. A discussion about several upcoming visits by various noblemen in Scotland who wanted to be in the good graces of the Earl of Douran. It was nothing new for his father or for him—people who valued them only for their name, their connections or the power and influence they wielded.

A short time passed and Aidan listened without interest to who was coming or going, caring not as long as Gowan was gone from Lairig Dubh. Then his father nodded at his closest advisors and they left.

‘Send for Jocelyn, Rurik,’ he called out as the men walked to the steps leading down from this tower chamber.

Aidan took a deep swallow from his cup, now puzzled over what was to come. His father alone would not be of concern, but calling his mother here meant trouble was coming his way. They passed the minute or so of time waiting for her arrival in silence with Aidan fighting the urge to ask the reason. Soon, he could hear his mother’s footsteps approaching the top of the stairs and he rose to greet her.

Being forced to marry the Beast of the Highlands to save her family had brought Jocelyn MacCallum to Lairig Dubh. Capturing the heart of a man most thought did not have one had turned that marriage into a long and happy one. No matter whatever else happened, Aidan knew his father loved his mother with every bit of his heart and soul. It was there every time one glanced at the other, through good times and contentious ones.

Not that he ever expected to find such a thing as they’d found—he was more practical than that. But he did understand that his parents’ marriage and relationship was not the customary one in this time or place.

‘So, why did you summon Mother?’ he finally asked, wanting some kind of hint about the probably discussion ahead.

His father put his cup down and stood, walking over to the door, awaiting his mother’s arrival there.

‘To discuss your upcoming marriage.’

* * *

Connor watched his son as he spoke of the reason they waited for Jocelyn to arrive. It could not be a surprise to him, for the boy had reached marriageable age a few years ago. Any delay in finalising arrangements had been Connor’s weakness when faced with the pleas from his beloved wife to delay. So many of their kin had been married off recently, including their own daughter, that Connor gave in to Jocelyn’s request. Many offers and expressions of interest had been coming in since Aidan had reached ten years of age. A few bold noblemen had offered even sooner.

But it was time for his eldest and heir to marry and begin to take up more responsibility within the clan and to become an integral part of overseeing the MacLerie estates, businesses and armies. Watching as he slept his way through a never-ending, never-slowing stream of women, Connor knew his son was not going to slow down or take on more responsibility unless he married.

And mayhap not even then.

So, he could not, they could not, ignore it any longer. His son needed to settle down and focus his attentions on clan matters instead of those of the flesh only. Asking for Aidan’s suggestions on which men were best to send on the training mission was one way. Connor had already made his choices, but giving his son a chance to give his opinion had been his way of testing Aidan’s knowledge and wisdom.

Connor turned and watched as his wife reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the chamber door, smiling at their eldest as she caught sight of him there. Then her gaze met his own and the warmth of her love shot through him. As it always did.

‘So, have you told him yet?’ she asked as she passed Aidan and came to stand before him. Her tone of voice was even, but that did not fool him for a moment—she was still not accepting that this was the time for their son to marry.

‘I awaited your arrival, love.’

Aidan glanced from him to his mother. His son should be accustomed to the endearments that crept in when they were alone, but from his expression, he seemed surprised by it.

‘And you have what to tell me?’ his son asked.

‘Based on our preliminary discussions, there are three prospective marriages.’

‘Our?’ Aidan asked. Connor would have laughed at how his son mirrored his own posture—arms crossed over his chest, feet planted in a warrior’s stance—if he had not worn his mother’s stubborn expression on his face.

‘The clan elders, Duncan, Rurik. Your mother,’ Connor replied, nodding to Jocelyn, ‘who would not be kept out of any talks that involved your future bride.’

‘And? Who are the three women?’ he asked.

‘The first is Margaret Sinclair of Caithness,’ Jocelyn explained.

‘The earl’s grandniece?’ Aidan asked.

Rurik’s father was Earl of Orkney, whose claim was through a marriage that had not resulted in a legitimate heir to inherit the title. Well, there had been a son, Rurik’s half-brother, but his unlamented death some years ago ended their father’s ability to keep the earldom in the family. The Sinclair family would be next in line once Erengisl Sunesson passed. And a marriage between Aidan and Margaret would link the MacLeries to one of the most powerful families of the north. ‘Aye.’

‘And the second?’

Connor met Jocelyn’s puzzled gaze. Aidan’s disinterest in his choices for a wife was stronger than either of them had expected. He nodded at her to continue as he watched their son’s reactions.

‘Alys MacKenzie,’ Jocelyn said. With the MacLeries’ recent ties to the Mathesons and their powerful Highland allies, the MacKenzies, it made sense to consider a direct link with them.

‘Nay,’ Aidan said, shaking his head. ‘Not a MacKenzie.’

Jocelyn threw a glance in his direction, both of them surprised by his opposition at the mere mention of the lass.

‘’Tis early in negotiations, Aidan. Let all three names stand for now.’ Connor nodded to Jocelyn to announce the third name.

‘And Elizabeth Maxwell is the last.’ Elizabeth was the eldest daughter of the Border lord and their family had strong ties to the Berkeley family in England. A good way to extend the MacLerie reach into the other kingdom.

Silence filled the room and Aidan’s expression remained blank. Uninterested? Resigned? Which one Connor knew not. Then their son let out a long sigh and nodded.

‘So how do you plan to do this? Will I have any say in the matter?’ he asked them.

‘Your mother has convinced me that, since all three are acceptable matches to us, you should have the final choice.’ Connor walked to Jocelyn’s side. ‘Each of the three have been invited to visit Lairig Dubh, so that you might meet them and take measure of whether they suit you.’

‘When will these visits begin?’

‘I am not certain. After we attend your uncle’s wedding, I think.’ His uncle Athdar had claimed Rurik’s daughter when she boldly hid away in his keep last winter. Handfasted when he discovered her, for honour’s sake, the church wedding would solemnify the joining that was already proving fruitful.

Aidan felt the tension leave his body. He had some time yet. No matter that he knew it was his duty to marry, and marry well, for the best interests of his kith and kin, he really had not wanted to do it yet. He was enjoying his life and a wife married for alliances and treaties would make it difficult to pursue his own pleasures. And he’d become accustomed to doing what, and who, he wished.

But in this moment, Aidan gave an honest appraisal of his opposition to seeking a wife now. It was the same reason he wanted no MacKenzie on that list of brides—and her name was Catriona MacKenzie. Finding her at the well was a lucky chance, but he wanted time, and the opportunity, to discover what lay beneath that smile and behind those eyes. He wanted time, undistracted by the demands of his family, to seduce her.

‘After the wedding, then,’ he said, looking from his father to his mother. Aidan tried not to look too hopeful as he waited for his parents to decide.

‘I will have Duncan begin approaching the families now,’ his father declared, staring at him as though trying to search his thoughts. ‘The roads are clear now all across the land.’

Aidan let out the breath he did not realise he’d been holding. ‘If there’s nothing else?’

His father nodded. Aidan walked to his mother and kissed her cheek. As was her custom, and in disregard for his age, she ran her fingers through his hair and touched his face as she had when he was a wee bairn. ‘Will you be at supper?’

‘Aye, I will be there,’ he said.

With nothing else to say and other tasks to see finished this day, Aidan strode from their chambers and returned to where his friends trained in the yard. His body hummed with restlessness now and he needed to work it out. Since he would not approach Catriona until her husband left, that left the other physical release of a good fight.

Aidan laughed aloud as he reached the yard and called out his challenges. With the way his blood burned for her, it would be a long afternoon in the training yard.


Chapter Three

It had been two days since Gowan departed for this new assignment and Cat’s life returned to the normal one she lived when alone. Other than Munro’s presence at supper several nights a week, she would be on her own to both accomplish her chores and tasks and for any plans she wished to make. She could even be lazy and remain abed when the sun rose, if she chose to.

Stretching out on her pallet, her hands extending into the chilled air of the cottage, she remembered that unless she stirred the fire in the small hearth there would be no warmth for her. Now fully awake with no hope of claiming another hour or so of sleep, she pushed back the blankets and shivered as the cool morning air of the cottage surrounded her. With some haste, she lit a fire, threw in some peat after the kindling caught and tossed her shawl over her shoulders to warm her in the meantime as she went about her tasks.

Though he’d come for supper last evening, Munro never slept here or spent any amount of time here unless his father was present. The sigh escaped her before she could stop it. Gowan’s son had opposed their marriage from the day he learned of his father’s plans. That it was one of convenience mattered not to the young man, for his mother’s recent passing and without the presence of young bairns who needed Catriona’s care convinced him it was unseemly. From Munro’s occasional, intense stares, she almost wondered if there was something more there.

Shaking off her disquiet, she decided to take advantage of what looked to be a break in the unsettled weather of late winter and spend the morning clearing away brush and fallen branches from the small patch of land next to the cottage that would be her garden. When the weather finally warmed, she hoped to expand the area from what she had worked last summer to something larger. Laughing with Gowan over her pitiful crop of vegetables and herbs from last season, she’d vowed to improve this year.

Kind man that he was, Gowan suggested she speak to Lady Jocelyn, for the gardens at the keep thrived under the lady’s guidance. New to Lairig Dubh and not significant enough to warrant wasting the lady’s attentions, she’d declined the suggestion and, instead, took advice from some of the village women who had successful gardens.

She would prove herself a worthy wife in whatever way she could. Gowan’s actions had saved her very life and she could never be able to repay him for doing so. Not that she could explain that to Munro or anyone else without revealing her shame. So, she looked for ways to make his life comfortable and ways in which she could cause him no regret for taking her as his wife. The garden would be one of those ways to make him proud.

* * *

The morning passed quickly as she pulled and tugged at weeds firmly entrenched in the hard ground. Her shoulders and back ached at the honest labour, but her spirit was lifted by the amount she’d accomplished. Cat washed up and had a plain meal of soup and bread before going to help one of the women in the village who’d just given birth. Her attempts to keep feelings of emptiness at bay faltered each time she laid eyes on her friend’s newborn bairn. Even knowing it was never meant for her to be the one bearing children did not ease the tightness in her chest when she held the babe. She relied on keeping busy and filling her days to fight off the deep sadness of her barrenness.

As she was walking towards Muireall’s cottage, a chill trickled down her spine as though she was being watched. Glancing along the path ahead and behind her, she saw no one paying any attention to her. Gathering the sack of mended clothing in her arms, she continued along the way. Only as she passed the last cottage on the lane and turned on to a smaller one did she see him.

Aidan MacLerie.

The earl’s son stood watching her, frank desire in his gaze. He did not approach or speak to her, but he did not look away either. She nodded as she passed him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment and continuing on. The nervousness in her stomach, the tightness in her chest as she tried to breathe and the sweat that trickled down her neck and back were all signs to her that she was not unaffected by his attentions.

Cat forced one foot to glide smoothly after the other, torn between trying not to put more meaning into his presence than she should and ignoring the hope that he would speak to her. She turned to follow the smaller path—Muireall’s cottage was the third one—when he spoke.

‘Good day to you.’

She paused and nodded her head. ‘And good day to you, my lord.’ Daring a glance, Cat found him still watching her from his place. The skin on her wrist where he’d pressed his lips tingled now, reminding her of the inappropriate gesture.

‘Aidan,’ he said as he took one step and another towards her now. ‘You must call me Aidan.’

She shook her head and dipped into a shallow curtsy. ‘I could not do that, my lord. We do not know each other and you are the earl’s son.’

His eyes brightened and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth then. Why did she suspect she’d just issued some sort of challenge to him—one he was pleased to rise and accept? He reached her side and she glanced about to see if any other villagers were about. Seeing none did not ease her sense of nervousness. Cat thought the earl’s son might be even bolder if he knew they were unobserved.

‘So,’ he said as he lifted her chin to meet her gaze, ‘are you saying that if we were more familiar with each other, you could use my name with ease?’ Then he did not so much release her chin as he did instead caress the edge of her jaw until his fingers slid away down her neck. ‘I think we should become more acquainted, then.’

His touch ignited all sorts of feelings in her, but she understood they were the wrong ones. His position as the earl’s son and heir gave him much power over people like her—and she knew he had a stream of women eager to share his bed. But it could not be her. It could never be her. She would honour her word, her oath, to her husband. Her debt to Gowan cleared her mind, so she stepped back from him and shook her head.

‘I think our acquaintance is what it should be, my lord. I live in your father’s village and know my place. I know I cannot naysay anything you demand, but I beg you to leave me be.’

His gaze moved from her eyes down and she followed the path. During her plea, her hand had taken hold of his wrist. Shocked by the intimacy of such a thing and shocked more that she had touched him, a man other than her husband, Cat released her grip and stumbled back. Waiting those next few moments for his reprimand or retribution, she dared a look at his expression. It was not so much desire now as surprise.

‘I beg your pardon, mistress,’ he said, stepping off the path and clearing the way for her to walk on. ‘I meant only to make your acquaintance, having not known you before. I would never demand something that you are unwilling to give.’

Had she misunderstood? Had she just accused him of something he had not done? Her experience with men was very limited and any experience with teasing as this seemed to be was worse than that.

‘And I beg your pardon, my lord, if I offended you. My friend is waiting for me.’ She held up her sack as proof and could not help it if it felt like protection to keep him from getting so close again. ‘If I have your leave to attend her?’

‘Good day, Catriona MacKenzie,’ he said.

‘Good day,’ she replied, walking faster then. ‘My lord.’ That slipped out before she could stop it and it was met with his deep, masculine laughter.

What devil had made her tease him once more? Cat dared a peek once she’d reached Muireall’s cottage door and found him still watching her. She knocked and entered with a call to the woman inside. Hoping that the needs within the cottage would distract her from the man outside, she walked in and greeted Muireall, who sat on a pallet feeding her newly born son.

‘You look flushed, Catriona,’ Muireall said. ‘Are you well?’

‘Oh, aye, well enough.’ She put the sack of clothing on the table and began to separate the clothes according to size. When she noticed the silence, she met Muireall’s amused gaze. ‘Do you have any other mending to be done? Errands to run?’ she asked.

‘You are trying to make certain I do not take notice of the colour in your cheeks and your breathlessness.’ Muireall lifted the bairn and placed him on her shoulder. Rubbing his back, she rose from the pallet and walked to Cat’s side. ‘Something or someone brought the colour to your cheeks.’

‘Muireall, I am a married woman! I would never...’

‘Enjoy a bit of fun?’ Her friend laughed and reached out to touch Cat’s cheek. ‘You are a good wife to Gowan, but that does not mean you should never laugh or enjoy yourself.’

‘I owe him so much,’ Cat began before falling silent.

‘I know you believe that, but you brought joy back to Gowan’s life. That would pay whatever debt you think you owe him.’

Muireall was one of very few people who knew the truth of Cat’s life and how Gowan had saved it. But even she did not know all the details.

‘So, who brought that blush to your cheeks?’ her friend asked again.

Uncomfortable at how close to the truth Muireall was, Catriona laughed and took the bairn from his mother. Holding young Donald close and rubbing her cheek on the babe’s head, she fought the longing that bairns always caused within her. But Gowan had never promised her children, only a safe place to live and someone to care of her. No matter the longings, it was still a good offer and she did not regret accepting it. Not then, not now.

‘Has Hugh told you how relentless I can be when I want something?’ Muireall asked her. ‘“Like a dog on a juicy bone”, he likes to say.’ Her friend laughed as she took her bairn back into her arms, cradling his head and kissing him as she did. ‘So, who put that smile on your face?’

Catriona hesitated for a number of reasons. Then she whispered his name, thinking that to keep it secret was to give it power over her. ‘Aidan MacLerie.’

‘He is a brawny lad, is he not? He got his colouring from his father...and his size,’ she said, winking as she did.

Catriona felt her mouth drop open in reaction to Muireall’s candid assessment of Aidan’s...size!

‘I may have just had a bairn, but I’ll be dead before I stop noticing a handsome young man like him,’ Muireall admitted. One of the things she liked most about Muireall was her earthy, honest way of thinking and living. And she knew that Muireall loved her husband with all her heart and any noticing of brawny young men meant nothing in the face of that love. ‘I would worry about you if a man like Aidan MacLerie did not make you blush.’

‘Aye, Muireall, I noticed the lad,’ she admitted, smiling against her will at both the admission and the memory of that brawny, young man. Cat turned back to her task of sorting the clothing, hoping all the while that the topic was done.

‘Lad?’ Muireall laughed. ‘That lad became a man long ago!’

Cat laughed, then shrugged. ‘’Tis no matter to me.’

‘He will lead the MacLerie clan after his father. From what my brother says, young Aidan stands well in his father’s stead.’ Her brother Gair served as steward to the earl and would be in a position to assess the heir’s abilities, strengths and weaknesses.

Cat walked to the storage trunk next to the pallet and put the clothing away. Not having grown up here, she did not know much about the earl and his family. Not as much as Muireall did.

‘How many years does he have?’ she asked, curious about him now.

‘He has twenty-and-two years.’ So he was five years younger than she was. Munro’s age.

‘And not married yet?’ She avoided Muireall’s gaze now as she asked the question in what she hoped was a neutral tone. When her friend did not reply, it forced Cat to turn and look at her. Amusement sparkled in her eyes. Nay, more than that, merriment and troublemaking glimmered there.

‘I am curious,’ she admitted. ‘Nothing more than that.’

‘Ah, then you are alive! I had my doubts about you, Catriona.’

Muireall was a very special sort of woman—one who relished life and did not let a minute go by when she did not appreciate something or someone around her. Whether the sun shining after a storm, the smile of her child, the sound of her husband’s voice, she savoured it all. And that drew people to her like flies to honey...including Cat herself. Muireall had everything in her life that Catriona had ever wanted for herself and everything Cat had convinced herself that she could live without.

Mayhap she had isolated herself from everyone in trying so hard to be what Gowan needed and wanted? He’d never said exactly what he’d expected of her, not when he asked her to marry him and not any other time. She did what she thought a good wife, what a second wife who had no children to care for, should do. She cleaned, she mended, she cooked, she cleaned. She was attentive to him when he was at home. Was that not what she should be doing?

‘To answer your question, he should be married by now, but he has been resisting it. A young man doing what a young man does.’

‘Young women?’ she asked, slapping her hand over her mouth after saying something so...so bold.

From the way he flirted with her, his skills at doing what young men did were very, very good. And there were many women who would not object to sharing the bed of the earl’s son. But she was not one of them.

‘Aye, young women. Older women as well,’ Muireall explained. ‘They all seem to like him and he them. He seems to treat all of them with respect no matter how they begin or end.’ Her friend looked at her then. ‘Is that what you wanted to know?’

‘My thanks for easing my curiosity,’ she said, nodding to her friend. She had been curious. She’d heard the stories of his prowess with women and had never heard a bad word spoken about him. ‘Now, what else can I help you do? If you have any errands outside, this is a perfect day for them.’ Though Muireall glanced at her with a knowing eye, she retrieved a length of plaid from the pallet, clearly fighting the urge to tease Cat even more than she had.

‘I need water from the well,’ she said, holding wee Donald out to Cat. ‘But I need to walk a bit, so I’ll join ye.’

Taking him in her arms and holding him close, she watched Muireall wrap and tie the plaid to form a sling where the bairn could be carried close to her chest. Once Donald was secured snugly in the folds of fabric, Cat gathered up the buckets near the door and tugged it open. Stepping into the sun-warmed air, she waited for her friend and then they were off down the path to the centre of the village—and the well.

They greeted people as they passed, stopping several times for Muireall to show off the wee one to all who asked. Cat could not help herself—she kept peeking ahead and behind and alongside to see if the earl’s son waited there. With no sign of him, she let out a sigh of relief. She did not like questioning her response to him or suspecting she would enjoy more of his flirting attentions, so it was fine that he had gone.

The well in the centre of the village served not just the purpose of providing water, but also it was the main gathering place for any and all. News was shared. Gossip spread. Help was asked, offered or accepted by the well. On a fair and sunny day like this, a crowd gathered there.

Catriona carried the buckets and set them on the well. Muireall was welcomed by all the women, more one of them now that she’d given birth as most all of them had. The sharp sting of disappointment struck again as she watched the scene unfold. The concern about both mother and bairn, the soft caresses of his head, and shared stories and remedies for any affliction he might suffer—all just pointed out how much she was not part of this village family.

Though at first she’d welcomed Gowan’s travels in his duties for the earl, now she realised that it had isolated her from a more involved place within the village and clan community. Without her husband’s presence and with no other family there, she’d become even more the outsider than she was. Cat tossed the well’s bucket down and turned the handle to retrieve it, trying to ignore the way this need now filled her when it had not mattered only days or weeks before.

She called out to Muireall when she had the water she needed and began to walk back to the cottage, allowing her friend to enjoy some time with the others. Just as she reached the footpath, a group of men rode through the village. Warriors like her husband, they rode as though one with their horses, calling out to those they knew as they headed towards the keep up the hill.

Cat took one last look at them as they passed and then turned back to her own path. Without really knowing why, she glanced up one more time and found the last rider staring back at her.

Aidan MacLerie.

He did nothing to acknowledge her, but his dark, scowling expression frightened her. Had she insulted him then with her words? Would she or Gowan somehow bear the brunt of his displeasure? She did not know about him to even guess, but she offered up a prayer that she had not caused problems for herself or her husband in the few, playful exchanges with the earl’s son.

Time would tell.


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.


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.


Chapter Six

Once the weather broke and the storms finally ceased, the ground began to dry out. Villagers and those living in the keep all sought out the fresh air and began to emerge like ants from their nest. Though most duties could not cease simply for rain, those who could avoid going out in it had. And, as was the usual occurrence during forced time indoors, tempers flared.

His father insisted on fair challenges and fights to sort through disagreements among his warriors, so the fair weather brought forth many of those. Once the work was done for the day, those challenged and those defending gathered in the yard. Though he was neither, Aidan would not mind a chance to work out the tension in his body.

With the sun setting so early, there was not much light left. Aidan called out to Angus and Caelan when he noticed them by the fence and went to watch the first matches with them. Young Dougal, Rurik’s son, stood at the ready for the next match. He probably bore no one a grudge—the young man just loved to fight. With only Munro missing from their group, the fight began. It took no time at all for the crowds to gather and the betting along the outer fringes to begin, too.

But the murmurs that passed through the crowds just then had nothing to do with the men fighting within the fence there. Elbows nudged and heads leaned closer to whisper some bit of gossip about someone walking towards the keep. As he leaned away and looked to the person causing the comments, a sick feeling hit him like a punch in his gut, its sourness spreading into a very bad taste of bile in his mouth.

Catriona MacKenzie walked alongside the steward’s sister, heading for the keep. He noticed that she glanced behind her as people passed, clearly aware of the whispers and pointed staring in her direction. When those whispers and stares began to include him, he knew for certain that someone had witnessed that kiss.

One thing his father had taught him was that to give scandal attention was to give it life, so he returned his gaze to the men fighting. His attention remained elsewhere, wondering who had carried the tale. And if everyone knew what had happened. And if everyone thought that they had....

Bloody hell! They knew him and his ways—of course they thought he’d taken Gowan’s wife as his lover. A twinge of guilt assailed him as he knew that he would have if she’d said aye.

The discretion he’d planned, if that path had been followed, was impossible now. If he tried to correct the assumption that everyone now accepted, it would draw more attention than if he simply did not comment on it.

That plan lasted exactly four minutes—the length of time it took Munro to reach his side after entering through the gates. He hoped to explain things to his friend—after all, they’d shared a number of sexual conquests in their carousing nights and Munro would believe him.

It was the punch that connected with his jaw and landed him on his face and the taste of dirt in his mouth that convinced him otherwise.

‘Munro,’ he began as he pushed to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his face. ‘Come. Let us discuss this....’

He got nothing else out before the punch in the stomach knocked the air from his lungs and made speaking impossible. When Young Dougal grabbed Munro and held him, wrapping his arms around their friend and not allowing him to deliver any blows, Aidan caught his breath.

‘In the hall,’ he ordered. ‘Gair’s chamber. Now.’

Young Dougal had some sense for he dragged Munro around to the front of the keep and entered that doorway, not crossing paths with the stricken woman whose reputation was now being bandied about by one and all, embellishing the details as it passed. Aidan thought about how to proceed, how to stop this reckless talk before true harm was done, but he could come up with nothing.

Munro walked on his own as they made their way through the main floor of the keep, heading towards the chamber that Gair, the steward, made use of. It was one of few truly private places within the keep, making it a perfect place for the discussion to come. Once they were gathered inside, with the door closed and a servant outside to drive away the curious, Aidan faced Munro.

‘I know not what gossip you heard, but it is not true if it involves your father’s wife.’ Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for the accusations, planning to reveal nothing more than was necessary.

‘So, you say you have not been following Catriona? And you did not meet with her in the village two days ago?’ Munro glared at him, his posture daring Aidan to lie.

‘Following her? I spend time in the village. If I saw her and greeted her, ’twas only as much as anyone else who lives there.’ He evaded the question, but from the expression in Angus’s eyes, he knew not well enough.

‘And during the storms? ’Tis said you two were kissing in the village then. You were seen wrapped around her and her clutching you back.’

‘Aye, I did see her during the worst of the storms. She was making her way to some task and nearly fell into a rut in the lane. I righted her and she went on her way and I on mine.’

Munro looked stymied then. To question him further could be considered an insult, yet it was clear to Aidan that he wanted to.

‘Did you question her about these accusations? Oh, wait. No one actually accuses us. This is just gossip being spread with or without the truth mattering,’ Aidan said.

‘Aye, I did question her,’ he spat out. ‘First she refused to answer me and then she denied it. Do you deny it as well?’

‘She denied it because she has been only faithful to your father, Munro.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There is no proof.’

And that was his mistake, for Munro raised his head and met his gaze. He began to grind his jaws as he rose to his full height.

‘No proof? I think you had me invite you to supper that night just to press your suit. Now that I think on it, you have been in the village more than usual. And you have not mentioned another woman’s name in weeks and weeks. That means you are pursuing a new lover for your bed. Proof, Aidan? I have only to remember your ways to know that there is more to this than you or she is saying.’ Munro pushed him aside and strode from the chamber. When his friends looked to him to see if they should stop him, he shook his head.

‘Let him be.’

‘Aidan?’ Caelan asked the question without even saying the rest.

‘She is faithful to her vows,’ he repeated, telling them exactly what they suspected—it was not for a lack of trying on his part that Catriona MacKenzie did not share his bed.

‘What about Munro?’ Angus asked.

‘Leave him be. This gossip will die down soon enough. When all those who now watch us both see nothing, it will die down.’

Now, their expressions confirmed what he already knew—this gossip would not go away soon or well enough. Everyone who heard it would think Catriona guilty of cuckolding Gowan. She was an outsider, from lands and a clan who were, until only recently, their enemies.

So until Gowan returned and the matter could be dealt with as it needed to be—the misbehaving wife punished and the man issued a challenge—the gossip would do what gossip did.

It would spread.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since her life irrevocably changed and there was still nothing she could do about it. In spite of knowing she’d done the right thing, everyone in the village and the keep believed she had sinned and humiliated Gowan.

Munro dogged her steps and slept at the cottage every night. He also arrived at various times during the day—unexpected and unannounced—with the hardly hidden goal of catching her in some act. It was not just his presence, it was the way he spoke to her and glared at her. So many times she wanted to strike out at him, but she held her hand and hoped that Gowan would believe her even if his son did not.

The worst part was that Munro revealed that he’d sent word to his father to return and take care of this matter of honour. Her body trembled as the thoughts of what that would entail crept back into her mind. As her husband, Gowan had the right to punish her however he chose, though to kill her would require the chieftain’s permission. He could banish her or send her to a convent, but that would require money. As much as she wanted to believe Gowan would not seek such redress, Munro’s taunts and threats could convince her otherwise.

Muireall stood by her when none other would, but Cat had heard the harsh, whispered words between Muireall and her husband, Hugh, and knew her friend risked much by her support. The rest of those living in the village reacted the same—treating her like a traitor and shunning her.

The butcher could not give her the meat she asked to buy and offered her only the toughest cuts instead. The baker had no space in his ovens for her bread. The women stared or walked away instead of answering her greetings. When walking through the village, she lost her footing several times when bumped or jostled from behind as people rushed past her.

The strangest thing she’d noticed was how the men of the village treated her. Before, they treated her with the respect due the wife of kin. Now, more often than not, she met lustful stares of men who saw her as a loose woman, her rumoured association with the earl’s son being the only proof they needed. None ever approached her, but it did not stop them from following her with illicit desire in their eyes.

If she’d thought she was an outsider, a stranger in a place where everyone was familiar to everyone else, these last two weeks had proven how wrong she could be. Convinced that this would probably not change, no matter the course of action Gowan took with her, Catriona wondered if refusing Aidan’s advances had caused more problems than accepting them would have. She brushed that sinful thought aside and tried to make it through another terrible, miserable day.

When she arrived at the well with her buckets to fill and every bit of conversation stopped in one moment, Cat knew they’d been talking about her. She nodded her greetings to anyone who would meet her gaze—only one woman did—and walked to the edge to begin filling her bucket. Somehow, one of her buckets fell off the edge and into the water below.

Fell? As she glanced around and noticed the smirks alight on most faces, she did not doubt it was done a-purpose. She had no choice but to retrieve it, so she began the task of trying to capture it with the bucket on the rope and bring it back up to her. No one, not a one, offered any assistance. The heat of their glaring stares burned her and she fought back tears as she struggled with the bucket.

Tempted to give up, leave the bucket behind and retreat to the privacy of her cottage, Muireall surprised her by arriving and helping her. Cat shook her head and tried to make her friend go away because she understood the dangers that Muireall faced being connected to her. But, true friend that she was, Muireall remained at her side, pointing and joking at the bobbing bucket until Cat’s efforts met with success.

* * *

‘Come to supper tonight,’ Muireall said as they reached Cat’s door. ‘I made more than enough for one more mouth at the table and the children have missed your company.’ She waited until Cat had put the buckets down before taking her hand. ‘I have missed your company.’

‘’Tis best, I think,’ Cat explained. ‘I know Hugh objects...’

‘Bah on his objections!’ Muireall said with a laugh that was too strong and told Cat how strong the man’s protestations were. ‘You are my friend.’

‘Muireall, I know you are my friend. Still, I will not cause you more strife with your husband or his family.’ Glancing outside to see if others watched, she lowered her voice. ‘Gowan is on his way home, summoned by Munro. All will be settled then.’

‘Will he believe your words?’ Muireall asked. She’d never once asked if they were true, she simply believed Cat. ‘What do you think he will do?’

‘I know not,’ Cat admitted. ‘He is a patient and fair man, but he can be hard, too. Now when his honour is involved...’ She shrugged. ‘If Munro has convinced him to return now and to these accusations, I just do not know.’

If her friend sensed or heard too much of her despair, she would never leave. So, she forced a smile and hugged Muireall.

‘Go now! Who is with those bairns while you dawdle with me?’ Cat walked over and grasped the edge of the door, shushing her friend out.

‘You gave me no answer about supper.’ Muireall stopped in the middle of the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘And “no” had best not be what you say.’

‘Fine. I will come,’ she agreed. It would be the first enjoyable meal for her since...

‘You are worrying again.’ Muireall turned to leave, but glanced back again. ‘Worry not over Hugh. I am not.’

* * *

It became clear to her just a short time later that Hugh was a problem. When Cat arrived at her friend’s cottage, Muireall’s husband stomped out with a silent stare and as the bairns watched in shocked silence. Muireall welcomed her with watery tears and a brave smile, but Cat knew this would be the last time they shared together until Gowan returned and settled this matter.

Until Gowan returned, nothing could be changed or fixed.

* * *

As she fell into a troubled sleep that night, images of Gowan’s return filled her dreams. Cat prayed that the man who had saved her life once would be able to save her honour now.

But everything waited for Gowan’s return to Lairig Dubh.


Chapter Seven

Aidan answered his father’s summons when it came. Though he had expected to be called to answer for the rumoured actions long before this, he knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Knocking and then opening the door, he found his father, grim-faced, sitting in the chair he called his. His mother stood apart from him—not a good sign. Strife between the Beast and his mate was never good. Closing the door, he walked forward, kissing his mother and nodding and standing before his father.

The silence grew, stronger and more uncomfortable by the moment. It was a strategy, used by his father many times, and a successful one at that. He waited, as practised at this as his parents were. Oh, his sister Lilidh would crumble in tears after a few moments of her father’s hard stare. And Sheena, the youngest, would have trembled by now and admitted all sorts of sins, both real and imagined or planned. But he was the eldest and could play this game.

‘A married woman, Aidan,’ his father finally said. Not a question as most would ask, but a statement, a judgement against him already.

‘You have never taken an interest in the women I take to my bed before, Father,’ he said, choosing not to answer the question even if it wasn’t asked yet. At his mother’s gasp, he realised his error. ‘I beg your pardon, Mother.’ He faced his father again. ‘She said no.’

He’d never lied to his parents before. Oh, he’d told wild tales and twisted the truth when it suited his needs, but he had never lied. Would his father accept his word as truth now?

‘There are problems now, Aidan. Gowan carries out his duties well. He accepted whatever tasks or assignments I set before him. If others see that their wives could become the target of your efforts to fill your empty bed with a new lover...’ His mother gasped again and Aidan steeled himself for her displeasure even as his father attempted an apology of sorts.

‘I told you this was not a suitable matter for you to attend, Jocelyn. I said I would handle this myself.’ His father stood and approached his mother. ‘Your son is a man now and makes his own decisions. And he must stand by his actions as well.’

Jocelyn MacCallum, Lady MacLerie, was not a woman to be told her place. As a matter of fact, Aidan could not remember a place or a discussion where she did not go when the need or interest rose in her. Whether matters of kith and kin or king and country, she freely offered and sometimes forced her opinions into the decisions his father considered. Telling her that it was not her place was a challenge, plain and simple, and, from the dark expression on her face, one she was not going to let pass.

‘Not suitable for me, Connor? Truly, did you say that?’ His mother approached, finger pointing at him. She stood only as tall as his chest and he would like to say that he did not fear her. But he did, as did his father when her eyes flashed and her finger pointed. ‘He is still my son and if he has dishonoured a married woman in seeking to fill his bed, I would have my say.’

Aidan prepared for her stinging words and then he would speak privately to his father. It was the way they handled things between them. ‘Before you begin, let me repeat—she said no.’

He watched as doubt and then suspicion filled her expressive eyes, the colour his sister had inherited, and then as she realised what he’d said. ‘So you did not bed her?’





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