He nodded slowly. “I do. Ye have journeyed far to be here, and Cormac is running wild.” He paused. “It could work for both of us, lady.”
She nodded slowly. It had been an inglorious start, but she could still salvage it, couldn’t she? As long as she worked hard, she could soon have so much coin that her parents’ worries might be over. She could save Loughton Hall.
She took a deep breath. “Very well, then. I accept your offer, Laird Greum Dubh.”
He smiled slowly. “Ye daenae have to be so formal. We daenae stand on ceremony in this part of Scotland.” His smile widened. “Perhaps we should both go to Cormac and tell him. My little brother is goin’ to get the shock of his life.”
Domhnall gazed around the great hall. It was teeming with his men, clutching their mugs of ale and laughing heartily. The din was so great that he could barely hear himself think.
There were ladies, too, dressed up in their finer attire as befitted a banquet with their Laird. Their kirtles were brightly colored in the finest cloth. He knew which ladies were married, by the fact that their hair was covered, with a wimple or veil. The unmarried ladies were free to wear their hair loose, and they indulged it, twining ribbons, jewels, and flowers throughout.
His gaze rested on Roseann, who was sitting a little apart from the others and staring into her ale. She looked uncomfortable. His face tightened. He had insisted that she attend this banquet, even when she had pleaded weariness.
“I have nothing to wear,” she had blurted to him, in a last-ditch effort to avoid the occasion. “All my gowns are lost, and I have nothing now that is fit for such an event.”
He had said nothing, then, leaving her to think that he had accepted her excuse. But he had gone away, ordering the dressmaker to come to the castle and bring her finest materials. He had chosen damask, in a shade of blue so bright it reminded him of turquoise. It had cost him, but it was worth it, to see her before him, now, in the new gown, the dressmaker had made for her.
She was beautiful; the blue suited her, as he knew that it would. Her amber eyes seemed to contrast with it. Her long, thick, curly dark hair fell down her back in dramatic ringlets, past her waist. She was the most beautiful woman in the room, by far. He knew that other men thought so, too, by the way they kept staring at her, with shining eyes.
He gulped down his ale, slamming the mug onto the table. He needed to speak to her before the bards and the musicians arrived when conversation was impossible.
He wove his way carefully through the crowd until he was by her side.
“May I?” he asked, indicating the chair beside her.
She looked surprised. He saw a pink flush rise up from her chest onto her neck and face. “Of course, Laird.”
He sat down, leaning closer towards her. The tops of her creamy breasts were almost spilling out of her bodice. With difficulty, he raised his eyes to her face.
“Ye look lovely tonight,” he said slowly. “I knew that ye would.”
Her flush deepened. “You have been too generous, Laird.” She gazed down at the gown. “This would have cost so much, and I cannot afford to repay you…”
He poured them both some more ale and then handed her the mug. She sipped it, staring around the room.
“It was a gift, Roseann,” he said quietly. “Ye daenae have to repay me, ye ken?” He paused, eying her over the brim of the mug. “Think of it as a bonus. Ye have been working hard with Cormac, and I can already see the fruits of yer labor with him.”
Roseann smiled. “He is such a bright, inquisitive boy! I know that you told me he was not eager for a tutor, but he was so bored and seems to be lapping up the Latin and philosophy…”
Domhnall smiled, too, thinking about the lad. He wasn’t just saying it to butter her up. She had been working hard, and Cormac was lapping it up, like a cat at a cream bowl.
It was a month, now, since her dramatic arrival at Coirecrag. A month in which she had been tutoring his brother. He sometimes couldn’t believe that it was so short a time. It seemed in many ways that Roseann Gibson had been here forever.
His heart tightened. She was leaving Scotland at first light tomorrow to return to her home. It was supposedly for just a few days so she could give them the first of her tutor’s wages. He was supplying her a carriage and three of his own men as guards. But would she decide, once she was home, to not return?
He suppressed an urge to reach out and take her hand. He knew what would happen if he did. She would blush furiously, so uncomfortable that it would not be worth it. Not in this company, at any rate.
He had been taking it slowly with her. So very slowly, that it was driving him a bit wild, causing him to have restless nights where he dreamed about her. He knew that she felt the attraction between them as strongly as he did, by the dilation of her eyes and the way that she trembled when he stood close to her. But she was a well brought up lady, who was ignorant of what could happen between adult men and women. He was sure of it.
The lady was as elusive as a woodland fairy, always slipping between his fingers, just when he thought he might finally seize his chance.
He stared at her lips, suddenly lost in a reverie about how sweet they would taste. He leaned closer towards her, his eyes avidly taking in ruby red lips so plump and so soft…
“Laird!” It was Fearghas, leaning over the table towards them. “The musicians are here, ye ken!”
Damnation! He jumped slightly. The musicians. He needed to greet them, then quieten the crowd. The duties of the Laird were always with him, even on a night like this.
“Just a moment, Fearghas!” he said quickly.
He had only turned away for a split second. But in that time, she had slipped away, pressing through the crowd. Escaping him once again.
His teeth clenched. Where was she going? Tomorrow morning, he was riding out before she was and would miss seeing her before she left. How would he get the chance to say farewell before she headed back to England and entreat her that she must return?
5
Roseann yawned, discreetly, as she exited the great hall. She was too tired to stay and listen to the entertainment. She had a very early start tomorrow for her trip back to England. She was sure she would be asleep as soon as she climbed into bed.
She glanced back. Domhnall was still sitting where she had left him, anxiously searching the crowd for her. A frisson of guilt swept through her. She shouldn’t have skulked off like that without saying good night. But he was the Laird with duties to attend to, and someone was always claiming his attention. She was sure he would forget about her within minutes.
She climbed the narrow stairwell towards her chambers. It was dark, but torches at various points along the walls lit her way. She picked up the hem of her gown so that she didn’t trip over it. It was longer than she was used to. Now she usually wore slightly shorter gowns more suitable to a long day spent at a desk.
She stared down at the gown. It was simply the most beautiful that she had ever owned. Domhnall had spared no expense. She felt guilty about that, too, even though he insisted it was a gift. But that didn’t stop her feeling like a princess as she walked along in it, feeling the luxuriousness of the rich fabric against her skin.
She flushed as she climbed the stairs, thinking about the Laird. Was it usual for such a man to give such expensive gowns to their tutors? She hardly knew. She had seen the ladies at the banquet whispering together, behind their hands as they stared at her. No doubt they were wondering why their Laird wasted such expensive cloth on an English woman.
She reached the top of the stairs, then hesitated. She would just go to Cormac’s chambers and check that he was sound asleep. It surprised her how proprietorial she had grown towards the boy in the short time that she had been at Coirecrag.
Cormac was lying sprawled on his bed, one foot out of his bed coverings, his eyes closed. He was sound asleep. Mairead, his nursemaid, was sitting in a chair next to him, working on some needlepoint. She smiled when she saw Ros
eann.
“My, ye look bonnie!” said the nursemaid, gazing at Roseann admiringly. “I daenae think I have seen a bonnier lass, ye ken.”
Roseann smiled. She liked Mairead.
“It is the gown,” she said modestly.
Mairead shook her head. “It is the lass in the gown, ye ken.” She smiled slyly. “And our Laird kens it too.”
Roseann flushed a little. “Good night, Mairead. Sleep well.”
She drifted back down the hallway towards her chambers, thinking about what Mairead had inferred. She knew that the Laird thought she was beautiful. It was there, in every glance, that he cast her way. She shivered, thinking about it.
She stopped suddenly. He was there, leaning against the wall, near the door to her chambers. He stepped forward slowly.
“What…what are you doing?” she whispered. “Why have you left your guests?”
He ignored her question, fixating on her with his magnetic green gaze. “I am doing something that I ken well ye want as much as I do.”
Before she could reply, he pulled her into his arms, and her words of protest died on her lips. The feel of his rock-hard arms around her was doing strange things that she could feel all the way down her spine.
His lips claimed hers. She felt the shock of it, then the sensation, as he opened her mouth. He wanted to devour her.
She simply had no idea what it would feel like to kiss a man.
But she knew now.
The kiss deepened as he pushed her against the wall. His hands grabbed her from behind, caressing her, almost kneading her flesh. A stab of intense desire shot through her, and with it, a slow trickling warmth spreading out of her most intimate parts.
What on earth was happening to her?
She heard him groan, low in his throat, almost like an animal in pain. He gripped her tighter, and she felt a hardness pressing against her stomach. Her eyes widened in alarm.
It was too much. Panting, she pushed him away. What would he think of her, now that she had let him do this? Her mother had always told her only loose women or whores welcomed a man to their beds in that way.
“Roseann…” he pleaded, holding out his hand towards her.
But she ignored him, fled into her chambers, and bolted the door firmly behind her.
Roseann gazed out the window of the carriage. They had just crossed the border from Scotland into England, with little difficulty. She couldn’t help but remember how different it had been only a month ago when she had been journeying in the opposite direction.
Her face flushed. She had left Coirecrag first thing this morning. The carriage was already waiting for her, and with three of his most trusted men to accompany her as guards. She hadn’t seen the Laird; she knew that he had already left the castle on his own business. Half of her had rejoiced, that she didn’t have to face him, after what had happened between them so unexpectedly last night. But the other half of her had been so bitterly disappointed, and tears had sprung into her eyes, as the carriage had started, and they slowly left the castle behind.
She kept gazing out the window, watching MacCain, who was riding on a horse alongside the carriage. No one would dare to molest her on this trip, not when they saw the three fierce-looking Scots who had been assigned to protect her.
She sat back in the seat. She had barely slept the night before, after what had happened outside her chambers. The Laird had grabbed her and kissed her with a ferocity that still took her breath away.
She closed her eyes. She had been so looking forward to this journey; she had been counting down the days until she could be home and hand over her hard-earned coin to her parents. She had pictured the look of shock and joy on their faces when they realized that it was true that there might just be a way to save their beloved home.
She touched the money bag in her pocket, filled with coin. Yes, it was still there. He had been more than generous; the bag held more than they had agreed upon.
She sighed. She should be happy. She was going home with coin. After all the drama of her arrival in Scotland, things had settled down, and she was back on track. Life was going well at Coirecrag. Cormac was a good boy if a little boisterous. She wanted for nothing.
She opened her eyes, staring at the roof of the carriage. She knew why she was so unsettled. Briefly, she touched her lips. They felt seared, as though a fire had swept over them.
That kiss.
She shuddered, remembering it in vivid detail how his lips had felt upon her own. How his lips had tasted. She felt giddy as if her head was spinning.
She still found it hard to believe that it had come to this. That only a month ago, after her shoddy treatment when she had first arrived at Coirecrag, she had wanted to leave the place desperately. She had thought that Domhnall MacBeathag was a barbarian and that Scotland was a wild place, full of blaggards and ruffians.
How wrong she had been.
The Laird had been eager to make up for his mistake. After she had accepted his offer, he had talked to her warmly every day that he was at the castle. He had given her everything that she needed to tutor Cormac and often stayed in the room to observe. He praised her learning and her methods, constantly telling her how well his little brother was progressing.
She had started to get to know others, too. Mairead had been friendly from the start. Now, she could talk to Domhnall’s men, appreciating their droll Scottish humor. The servants were friendly. It was only the other ladies who still eyed her with suspicion.
“They are jealous,” Mairead’s words withered when she had mentioned their coldness towards her. “Spiteful cats, who hiss and spit when they feel threatened! Take no notice of them, lassie. If ye have the regard of the Laird, that is all that matters.”
Roseann stirred. Yes, she had the regard of the Laird. So much so, that he had taken her in his arms and kissed her.
She had enjoyed it—so much she hadn’t wanted him to stop. But what did that mean? Was she a low woman, a Mary Magdalene? Would her parents know, as soon as they saw her, that she was a fallen woman?
She was confused. On the one hand, she believed that her virginity was a precious gift given only in holy matrimony, and what passed between two people in the marriage bed was sacrosanct. To do so beyond the bonds of matrimony meant an eternity burning in hell.
On the other hand, the kiss didn’t feel wrong; in fact, it felt so very right, as though she and Domhnall somehow fitted together. How could that be wrong?
She bit her lip. She just didn’t know what to think. She had grown so close to Domhnall that a kiss was even possible between them was amazing in itself. She admitted to herself a while ago that she had been wrong about him. He was a truly remarkable man.
Everyone at Coirecrag castle loved their Laird, from the lowliest pig hand to the loftiest noble. He treated his people well. He traveled far and wide through his villages, adjudicating disputes, and listening to complaints. He was a man of the people; he had an ease with them that many did not. And he was smart. She knew that it was because of his good management that Greum Dubh was so prosperous.
She was so lost in contemplation of the handsome Laird of Greum Dubh, that she didn’t notice the wheels of the carriage were slowing down until they stopped altogether. She peered out the window. They were in the middle of nowhere on a windswept moor.
“Is something wrong?” she called out in a high, thready voice.
There was a sudden flash of movement, and she heard shouting. Dear God, she thought, with a sickening lurch of her stomach. Something was happening. Was she destined never to see her home again?
6
Roseann held her breath. She didn’t know what was happening; she simply didn’t know what to do. Should she simply wait? Or should she push open the carriage door while she still had a chance, bolt over the moor, and run for her life?
Her heart pounded harder. That terrible first crossing over the border assailed her so vividly that she couldn’t help gasping.
The soldiers, she th
ought dimly. The renegade English soldiers.
She started to tremble violently, her teeth chattering in fear. It couldn’t happen again. It must not happen again!
Abruptly, she fell to the carriage floor, curling into a ball, as the memory of that awful encounter fell into her mind. She had tried so hard, but she couldn’t stop it thinking about it. She had tried so hard to push it out of her mind.
But now, it reared up like an apparition of doom, the memory taking her over, entirely…
It was as fresh in her mind as if it happened yesterday. At first, she had thought that they were friendly and only doing their duty when they had stopped them just over the border. She recognized their uniforms, after all. They were English soldiers. She was an English lady. They would be merely asking where she was journeying to, and then let them pass.
A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander Page 5