Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  “And we need you.” The deep grooves carved in Glinda’s features eased. “’Tis not a true clan without its laird.”

  Pleased with the cook’s compliance, Aaron proffered a faint smile. “I do not claim to be infallible by any means, but I vow I shall be naught like Brodie MacRae.”

  “You were never like your father,” an aging male seated in the midst of the hall spoke up. “I remember the lad you were, and I see the man you’ve grown in to. In truth, you take after your grandfather, Connall.” The elder waved a gnarled hand at those seated around him. “We know you tried to help as much as you could while Brodie lived. And though you’ve put off facing your clan far longer than you should’ve, we are also aware that you’ve tried to look over us from afar. You cannot run from your troubles forever, lad. Sooner or later, you must face them like the rest of us. As long as you stand with us, we shall stand with you.”

  Bolstered by the older man’s words, Aaron nodded his understanding. Saints, if anything, he felt more ridiculous for his senseless behavior. “I cannot promise to be the laird you deserve or, mayhap, even the one you want. But, I am willing to try…if all of you will have me.”

  As several of the clan members exchanged glances, he expelled a shaky sigh, determined to keep his gaze trained on the hall. Others continued to stare at him, gauging the sincerity of his assertion. Before long, most of the gazes in the hall flickered to Glinda, as if they sought the old cook’s guidance with the matter.

  The silence stretched on, mounting Aaron’s unease. Despite the cool air, beads of sweat formed on his brow and he tugged at the restricting collar of his tunic. Shifting from one foot to the other, he strove to not fidget under the strain.

  ’Twas why he doubted his abilities as laird. At times, his lack of confidence hindered him, guiding him to make poor or rash decisions.

  Glinda’s arms fell at her sides and she hobbled closer. Wisdom shone in her sharp, beady eyes. “No one’s infallible, lad. Remember that. We shall always stand with you as long as you stand with us. So, aye, we shall have you, if you shall have us.”

  Relief spread through his limbs, leaving him lax and weak in the knees. Grateful, he agreed without a scrap of hesitation, “Always.”

  She nodded her approval and a rare smile bloomed over her features which stirred the hall into a gush of cheers and excited chatter.

  This—the understanding, the unyielding support and encouragement—’twas precisely what he’d missed. How absurd of him to have thought he could survive without his clan.

  Aaron took a seat beside his brother and smiled at how right it felt to join his clan for a meal. Reaching for a piece of fresh bread on the table, he nodded at the others seated around him. Mayhap, he should’ve pulled his head from his arse sooner.

  Aye, he’d not forgotten his brother’s words. Though, he suspected they came from another source. A source whose absence bothered him.

  He darted a questioning look at Connor. “Where’s Mairi?”

  His brother’s grin slipped, which drew Aaron’s immediate notice and sent a frisson of alarm speeding through him.

  “She’s taken to her bed, ailing with a cold.”

  He fumbled with the bread, and the crusty fare slipped from his hand to drop in his bowl of porridge.

  Leaning closer across the table, Gertie rushed to assure him, “’Tis naught to fret over, lad. I saw her at first light this morn.”

  His gaze swung to the old healer. “Is she all right?”

  “Aye, of course.” Gertie nodded. “I’ll check on her in a bit and administer another potion.”

  Concerned, he slid his chair back to rise, scraping the legs over the floor.

  “Nay, give her a chance to sleep before you go running up there disturbing her,” the old woman softly chided. “’Tis what she requires right now. Give her a day or two and she’ll get over the worst of it.”

  Saints, he’d known she might take ill, traipsing about without her head covered.

  Give her time to rest, like hell. Once everyone dispersed from the hall, he intended to check on her himself, whether she was still angry with him or not.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A soft stroke brushed over Mairi’s cheek, stirring her into consciousness. While she was fond of the gray cat, the beast sought attention at the most inopportune times. Blindly, she raised her hand to swat at Ash’s furry tail but swiped at warm skin, instead. She peeled her eyes open and focused on Aaron who stood over her bedside.

  Even ailing from a cold and angered with the man, the sight of his stern, handsome features caused a hitch in her congested chest. One corner of his mouth lifted with a grin at her obvious surprise which hastened the thrum of her pulse.

  Swallowing against the dryness in her mouth, she shifted to sit up higher against the mound of pillows. Quick to offer aid, he straightened the cushions behind her.

  With a grudging frown, she muttered, “Thank you.” Wincing at the scratchiness in her voice, she cleared her sore throat. “What are you doing here?”

  Suddenly aware she must look a fright, she yanked the covers higher over her chest and the foul-smelling poultice Gertie practically doused her in. Regardless of her congested state, the offensive odor managed to waft up her clogged nose.

  Aaron eased down on the edge of the bed beside her. “Once Connor and Gertie informed me you were ill, I had to see for myself.”

  “Why?” Scowling, she sniffled. “So, you can gloat at my misfortune?”

  The smile slipped from his mouth. “Nay, never. In fact, when I entered the hall to speak to my clan, ’twas your face I sought out. When you were not there—”

  “You spoke to your clan?” she grated out in a garbled rush.

  By the Saints, was this the same man she’d fiercely quarreled with the day before? The same man who would not budge in his resistance to lead?

  His grin returning, he rose to pour her a goblet of water which she readily accepted. She downed the cold liquid, soothing her parched throat.

  Mumbling her thanks, she passed over the empty tankard and waited for him to explain.

  Aaron settled on the bed once more and his dark, pensive gaze met hers. “You were right. All of you—my brother, Niall, you.” Reaching out to grasp her limp hand resting at her side, he held on with a tight grip. “I have been utterly remiss in my duties and because of it, my clan has suffered. I was too selfish to lay my own feelings aside, and care for the people who’d cared for me and Connor when we needed them most. The MacRaes have weathered the same hardships that I have, and not once have they wavered in their duty to me or my brother as I’ve faltered in mine to them.”

  His thumb brushed circles inside her wrist, causing an odd flutter in her belly. The slight touch affected her more than she cared to admit.

  He studied their joined hands. “I question the man I am these days. I’m unsure of so many things, but I refuse to disappoint those closest to me any longer.”

  A gleam entered his eyes, a spark she’d not noticed since her arrival—hope, mayhap.

  “I’m uncertain if I can ever truly be worthy of my clan.” He lifted a shoulder with a shrug. “But, I’ve asked them for a chance and they’ve accepted.”

  Astounded, she could hardly believe her ringing ears. “In truth?”

  “In truth.” He nodded.

  “’Tis wonderful news,” she rasped out.

  Disentangling their hands, she sprang upright to throw her arms around his neck. Heedless of the foul-smelling poultice that most likely seeped through her woolen nightshirt or her running nose, she clung to him, pleased that he’d chosen to honor his duty as laird.

  Aaron wrapped her in the warmth of his arms. Leaning in close, he spoke near her ear. “I could not have done it without you.”

  Sniffling, she pulled away and stared at him in bewilderment. “I’ve done naught.”

  “Here, lie back and rest,” he suggested.

  He helped situate her against the pillows and tucked the furs
to her chin. A playful grin curved his lips and eased the lines of worry from his features, giving him a youthful appearance. With his wretch of a father, she doubted he’d been given many opportunities in his life to experience such a lightness of heart.

  “And, aye, you’ve done much more than you think. With everyone’s efforts, ’twas enough for me to pull my head out of my arse.”

  A gasp slipped out of her and she gaped at the man.

  He tilted his head and quirked an inquisitive brow. “Where do you suppose Connor heard such a turn of phrase?”

  Snapping her mouth shut, she shook her head. “’Tis anyone’s best guess with that lad.”

  Hearty, rich laughter worked from his throat, the sound appealing to her ears. Against her better judgment, her gaze drifted to the sinews of his corded neck.

  His humor subsiding, he lifted his hand to brush the backs of his fingers over her warm cheek. “I’m truly sorry, Mairi. I never meant to hurt you in any manner. I can only hope you might come to forgive me.” The sheer depth of his dark eyes bore into her. “I cannot fathom a life without you in it, nor do I wish to try.”

  For a moment, she could not form an adequate reply. She searched his earnest gaze, struggling to grasp his meaning. Alas, the potion Gertie had given her earlier left her mind in a fog and her head swimming. What was he saying to her?

  She opened her mouth to inquire but Ash chose that instant to squeeze in between them and announce her presence with a loud meow. Mairi almost groaned when his hand fell away from her cheek.

  Aaron shifted around to sit at the head of the bed and patted his bent knee. “I’d wondered where you’d gotten to, you silly beast.”

  Anxious for her master’s affections, the cat climbed into his lap, nuzzling her furry head against his chest with a sweet purr. Her tail flicked back and forth, slapping Mairi in the face.

  Sputtering hair from mouth, she swatted at her temporary companion in annoyance. So much for undying loyalty from the animal. ’Twas apparent Ash’s allegiance lay with Aaron.

  Chuckling, he plucked the plump cat from his lap and placed her on the bed. With a point of his finger, he ordered, “Lie down.”

  The blasted animal sank down on its belly and flopped over on its side, pressing against Mairi’s thigh. The cat’s loud, snorting purrs resounded through the still bedchamber.

  She shook her head at the beast’s obedience. Then again, the cat was not the only female who yielded to Aaron’s commands. Had she not followed his order to lie back moments before?

  When the bed shifted beneath her and Aaron rose to his feet, she shot him a questioning glance.

  Aaron brushed his finger over her cheek once more. “Seek your rest for now. You’ll heal much faster.” He added a soft smile. “No doubt, Gertie shall be up soon with Glinda’s pottage.”

  Too soon, he removed his warm touch and strode for the chamber door, while the words he’d spoken to her continued to drift in and out of her hazy mind.

  “Wait,” she croaked out, eager to question him.

  Pausing in the doorway, he peered over his shoulder with a grin. “Rest, Mairi. I’ll return to check on you soon.”

  Before she could inquire after the meaning of his words, the door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving her alone with his traitorous, purring cat.

  *

  ’Twas well after the clan bedded down in the hall or in the comfort of their own cottages when Aaron chose to venture from his own makeshift bed in the solar. Since he’d surrendered use of his brother’s bedchamber, he’d taken to sleeping on a pallet of furs before the hearth each eve. Alas, the peace of sound slumber abandoned him that night. With his mind centered on Mairi, he could not dispel thoughts of her long enough to catch a blink of rest.

  As had become his habit, an unrelenting desire to see the lass and ensure her wellbeing kept him awake, tossing and turning, for several hours. Despite visiting her earlier in the night, along with several others, the unshakeable urge pressed at him until he relented.

  ’Twas impossible to discern which he favored more—a mothering hen or a lovelorn youth.

  After numerous repeated glances over his shoulder, he skulked down the dim corridor until he reached the safety of his chamber. He hardly wished for any of the clan to catch him in the act. Too many already suspected he harbored strong feelings for Mairi. ’Twas no need to add any more kindling to the fire.

  Not to say the members of his clan were amiss in their assumptions. Though, “strong feelings” was a fairly tame expression to ascribe his true sentiments.

  Aaron paused outside the door with his hand on the latch. Shaking his head, he briefly wondered when the devil he’d acquired a penchant for stealing into ladies’ bedchambers in the dead of night. Of course, ’twas no mere lady on the other side of the door.

  ’Twas Mairi—the woman he’d fought tooth and nail to not care for, but to no avail. He could no more dismiss her from his life than he could his clan. And frankly, he was mad to even try.

  Once he slipped inside the chamber, his gaze immediately darted to the low-burning flames, thankful his younger brother had not bedded down in front of the hearth. Not that he blamed the lad. Hell, mayhap he would’ve, too, if he thought Mairi would not awake and shout at him. Or worse, kick him in the bollocks again.

  A series of loud, gurgling snores rent the air and Aaron barely contained his laughter. Padding closer to the bed, he peered at the prone woman. Sprawled flat on her back, she’d fallen into a deep slumber with her mouth gaping open. Her tussled, raven hair lay askew over the pillows, while the nose-wrinkling odors of Gertie’s medicinals clung to the air surrounding her.

  Ash’s gray head popped up from the other side of Mairi’s thigh. Her sleepy, green gaze found Aaron in the dim chamber at once. Stretching her front legs, she released a faint mew. Careful to not wake Mairi, he hushed the wee animal with a finger to his lips. With any luck, her cold would soon improve after a few eves of sound sleep.

  Noting the dying embers across the room, he crossed the chamber and crouched near the hearth to build the fire. He added another thick log and several smaller pieces of firewood that would burn throughout the night until the morn. Stoking the flames higher, the heat licked against his cool skin.

  “Aaron.”

  The hoarse moan of his name startled him upright. Peering cautiously at the bed, he halfway expected to find Mairi staring at him. Instead, her legs moved restlessly beneath the furs and she turned on her side. To his utter relief, she remained fast asleep and unaware he stood in the chamber, observing her with a watchful eye.

  With quiet steps, he inched closer to the bed while his heart kicked a frantic drum in his chest. How the devil could he leave her bedside now when she’d called for him in her sleep?

  Damn it. Of course, he could not leave her.

  Resigned, he softly padded over the stone floor and slipped into the chair alongside the bed. How long he reclined in the seat, studying her slumbering features, Aaron could not say. But then again, how could he resist?

  Since the fateful day she’d bumped into him in the herb garden at her brother’s keep, the lass had never strayed far from his thoughts. In fact, she damned near dominated them. In spite of the time and distance parting them, she remained a central focus in his mind, tormenting him with the constant reminder that she could never truly be his. And yet, there she was, in his keep and in his bed.

  But, for how long?

  Once the last remnants of gray clouds vanished the day before, the sun had emerged with a vengeance, beaming high in cloudless, blue skies. ’Twas only a matter of time before the passage opened, permitting safe travels. Any day, MacGregor would march on his door, demanding his sister’s return. ’Twas as inevitable as his love for Mairi. He’d let her go once, but could he do so again?

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the fourth day of her imposed confinement in Aaron’s bedchamber, Mairi struggled not to yank the hair from atop her head. She could not bear to
stare at the four walls any longer.

  When she’d arisen that morn, she donned the warm clothing some of the clan’s women allowed her to borrow. Eager to step foot from the chamber and join the hall to break her fast, she’d managed just two steps outside the chamber before Gertie and Aaron waylaid her.

  The old woman had crossed her fleshy arms over her sizeable bosom and shaken her head. To Mairi’s vexation, Aaron agreed with the blasted woman.

  Not that she disparaged the woman. Thanks to Gertie’s vile poultices and potions, most of the congestion in her chest has loosened. Aside from a running nose, little of her cold lingered which increased her frustrations that she must remain in her chamber.

  The only way Aaron appeased her riled temper was the promise of a bath. She almost shouted in glee when he arrived a short while later with a handful of men, hauling a large, wooden tub inside the chamber and several buckets full of steaming water from the kitchens.

  Sinking down in the warmth, she released a sigh of sheer contentment. The heated water lapped over her chest, loosening her stiff muscles and soaking into her skin. The fragrant herbs Kate added to the bath pervaded the air, lulling Mairi with the pleasing scent. Feet away from the tub, the roaring flames in the hearth crackled and popped, chasing away the chill in the chamber.

  ’Twas a tranquil setting, or at least it should’ve been, if only she could shake the thoughts circling like a hawk in her mind. Of course, Aaron stood square in the midst of every single one of them.

  Throughout the course of her four-day stay in the chamber, the man had scarcely strayed far from her bedside. Though, his shift in moods after the first day had entirely thrown her off balance. ’Twas hard to reconcile the drastic differences in his disposition since her arrival nearly a fortnight before.

  What bewildered Mairi more was that he’d taken to overseeing her care. From bringing her fare from the kitchens to dispensing Gertie’s potions, he’d remained by her side, determined for her health to improve. Each morning, she’d awaken to the sight of him sound asleep in the chair at her bedside, cuddling his beloved cat in his lap. All the while, his dark, searing looks and chaste touches snared straight through her heart.