Gently, regretfully, he let his mouth fall away from her nipple, staring down at her full breasts. They were as beautiful as he had imagined. Sloping and creamy, with rosebud nipples at their center. He knew that they would haunt his dreams tonight.
Sighing, he fixed her bodice, so she was no longer exposed. He stepped away from her, feeling even this small distance was torture.
“Ye will come to my bed when we are back at Coirecrag,” he whispered huskily. “I will treat ye properly when we have the time and do it well. I promise ye this.”
Her amber eyes were gleaming, and she was panting softly. He reached out to grab one soft, dark curl, caressing it gently between two fingers.
“Laird.” A rough voice behind them.
They both jumped, turning as one. It was MacCain. The man looked grim, and his eyes were troubled.
“I daenae wish to interrupt ye,” said the man, “but ye’d better come quick. There’s trouble afoot.”
8
Domhnall cursed under his breath. MacCain had already turned, running back towards the carriage. Drawing his sword, he ran after him, grabbing Roseann’s hand, pulling her roughly.
“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her fiercely. “I will protect ye. But if there’s any trouble, and I cannae for any reason, ye run. Do ye hear me?”
He glanced back at her. Her amber eyes were as round, and her face was pale. But she nodded quickly.
He saw what trouble MacCain was referring to, even before they reached the carriage. A group of English soldiers had come upon them and were now circling the carriage slowly. His men were bailed up by two of the English, under the sword.
“What seems to be the problem?” he called, affecting a nonchalance that he didn’t feel. “Who is the leader here?”
A man stepped forward, his cold eyes sweeping over him disdainfully. “I am the commander,” he said, in a clipped English accent. “And who are you?”
Domhnall took a deep breath. “I am Domhnall MacBeathag, the Laird of Greum Dubh, on the Scottish side of the border.”
The man sneered. “I am well aware of what side of the border you hail from,” he snapped. “Your manner of speech gave you away, from the minute you opened your mouth, sir. You are the leader of this traveling party?”
Domhnall nodded. “I am. We stopped to stretch our legs, nothing more.” His eyes narrowed. “There is no law against that, surely?”
The man stiffened. “You are on the English side of the border, now, Scot. Any band of Scottish who stops on these roads should expect to be questioned…”
Suddenly, the soldier’s gaze wandered to Roseann, who was standing close behind him.
“Madam,” he said stiffly. “You are with this party?”
Domhnall tensed. He knew what was going to happen next as soon as the man heard her voice.
“I am, sir,” Roseann replied, feigning a firm voice. “I am journeying to my family’s estate, located on the outskirts of Berwick.”
The man looked astonished. “You are English? An English lady?” His head swiveled to Domhnall. “Why is this lady traveling with a band of Scotsmen? Answer me, man!”
Domhnall felt his blood start to boil. But before he could answer, Roseann stepped forward.
“I am employed by the Laird of Greum Dubh,” she said, raising her chin. “I stay at Coirecrag castle as a tutor. The Laird and his men are kindly escorting me back to my home, where I will stay for a few days, before returning to my post.”
The man looked shocked. “You work for this barbarian? You live in his castle?”
“I would be careful what ye say,” said Domhnall, in a deceptively mild voice. “Ye daenae want to be insulting…soldier.” He spat the last word out, glaring at the man.
His eyes flickered over to his men, who were all watching him like a hawk. All he had to do was give the signal, and they would attack, taking the soldiers who held them by surprise. The English wouldn’t know what had hit them. They would be lying on the ground, in a pool of blood, before they even drew another breath.
He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t do it yet, not unless it was absolutely necessary. There was always a price to pay for bloodshed. Better to try to talk his way out of this rather than risk it, at least for the moment.
“The Laird is a good and fair man,” said Roseann, defiantly, her large eyes blazing. “You will not find a better Laird. He is no barbarian, sir.” She paused. “If that is all there is, then we can be on our way, can we not? My father is expecting me, sir. He will not be happy if he hears that I was waylaid on my journey, and I am sure that your superior officer would not be happy to hear of it, either.”
The man took a step back, rather looking as if he had just been slapped across the face. “As you wish, lady,” he said through gritted teeth. “If I have your assurances that you are indeed traveling willingly with this party, then I shall delay you no longer.”
Roseann nodded imperiously. The man gave them a lingering dark look, before abruptly calling his men. They mounted their horses, riding off down the road without a backward glance.
Domhnall started laughing. He glanced at Roseann warmly. “Ye gave him short shrift, lassie! I daenae think the man has ever had a woman talk like that to him afore!”
Roseann smiled faintly. “I know how to talk to men like that. They are pompous fools, most of them, with an inflated sense of their own power and importance.” But he could see that she was frightened.
He stepped forward, staring down at her. “I am proud of ye, lass. Ye are a fearsome woman when ye need to be.” He hesitated. “So, ye no longer think me a barbarian, then? Ye are happy to be in Scotland at my castle?”
She nodded slowly. “I am happy.”
He nodded, glancing at her sharply. “And ye will return to me? Ye will nae send me back an empty carriage when the time comes to leave yer folk?”
She nodded again. “It was always my intention to come back, Laird. Cormac needs me. There is much that I need to teach him, still.”
Domhnall exhaled slowly. He had been more worried than he cared to admit that she wouldn’t come back. That she would find the comforts of home and family, after all the travails of her journey to Coirecrag, too tempting. He could never forget that he had accused her of being an English spy and held her under house arrest, in the first few days. He wasn’t at all sure that she had truly forgiven him for it.
But it seemed that she had. She had stood up to the English soldier, defending him, saying that he was a good and fair Laird. He knew that she had been afraid when she had done it, but that had not stopped her.
She is a rare woman, he thought, not for the first time.
He took another deep breath. “So be it, then, lass. I shall let ye continue on yer journey, and I shall backtrack and continue on mine.” His gaze lingered on her. “Until we meet again, lady.”
“Until we meet again,” she repeated, her face flushing.
He wanted to kiss her farewell. But his men were watching them, and he knew she would feel uncomfortable with it.
One day, I shall kiss her freely, he thought fiercely. One day I shall kiss her, and everyone shall ken that she is mine.
Roseann stepped down from the carriage. Her father and mother were waiting for her; they had obviously received her letter and had been watching for her from the house.
“Oh, my dearest,” said her mother, coming forward to embrace her. “It seems so long since I have seen you!”
Roseann smiled, returning her embrace. “It has been a long time for me as well, Mother.” She stepped back, observing the older woman’s face. “You look tired. Are you well?”
“Oh, my usual complaints,” said Lady Croilton dismissively. “My joints still ache with the cold, but you do not want to hear the trials of an old woman.”
“My dear daughter,” said her father, embracing her. “Come inside, out of the cold. We have food and warm mead waiting for you beside a roaring fire.”
She followed them into the
house. It wasn’t until they were all seated that she allowed herself to fully relax and look around at her beloved home, for the first time in over a month.
It is the same, she thought warmly. It is exactly as I have pictured it, in my mind, before I go to sleep, so many miles away.
Her mother passed her a goblet of mead. “Tell us all about your new life, Roseann. Is the Laird of Greum Dubh a good man?”
Her father was watching her keenly.
Roseann took a deep breath. “He is. He is a fair and good man. All of his tenants and servants and his nobles love him dearly.”
Her father sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It is all that I could have wished for,” he said, closing his eyes. “I have been worried sick since you left, telling myself that I have sent you into the dragon’s den…”
Roseann smiled. “Scotland is a beautiful place, Father.” She paused. “It did take me some time to adjust, but I am happy there, now.” She thought of the Laird, kissing her, holding her in his arms. Her face flushed slightly. She couldn’t think about such things when she was sitting with her parents.
“And your charge?” asked her mother gently, bringing her back to the present. “He is a good boy and minds you well?”
Roseann nodded again, taking another sip of her mead. “Cormac MacBeathag is a boisterous boy, full of energy, but he is bright, and he attends his lessons well.” She paused. “He reminds me a little of Nicholas at that age, even though they do not look at all alike.”
Her father shifted on his chair. “That is all that you can hope for, I suppose, when you are tutoring.” His smile faded. “It still makes me sad, daughter, that you have been reduced to it, though. That our failing fortunes drove you to such dire circumstances.”
Roseann leaned forward in her chair. “Do not think of it in that way, Father. It is not a humiliation for me. In fact, it keeps my mind engaged. I feel useful in a way that I could not if I was sitting around weaving tapestry.” Her face brightened. “I have something for you…”
She reached down, taking out the money bag, heavy with coin. Her parents’ eyes bulged a little as she set it down on the small table between them.
“My first month’s wages,” she said proudly. “There is even a little more in there than what was agreed on. The Laird is a generous man.”
Her father slowly leaned forward and picked up the bag. His eyes filled with tears. “I cannot believe that you have done this, Roseann. That you have sacrificed so much to bring this to us and to save our home.” His face fell a little. “But I am afraid that it is all too late. Your generous gesture has all been for naught.”
“Father?” she gasped, leaning forward toward him. Her head swiveled from one to the other. “What are you talking about?”
Her parents exchanged looks.
“What is it?” she gasped again. “Please, for the love of God, will you tell me!”
Her mother sighed deeply. “We have heard from London. Your Uncle Henry’s creditor has lost patience with us…”
“Lost patience?” she whispered, shaking her head. “But you have told them that you are about to receive good coin? That soon, the coin will be flowing, and that they shall be repaid every penny?”
“We have informed them,” sighed her father. “But unfortunately, it makes no difference to them. They want every last coin that they are owed, and it is a substantial amount, Roseann. More than we can come up with in the time that they have given.”
Roseann felt her head spinning. This couldn’t be happening. She had just given so much coin to her parents. She had been so proud of her achievement.
She took a deep breath. “I will speak to my Laird,” she said quickly. “Perhaps he will give me an advance on my wages, enough to cover what is owed…”
“Roseann,” said her father, his eyes grim. “It is far too late for that. Loughton Hall will be sold.” He smiled briefly. “The one good thing to come of it is that you do not have to go back to Scotland, my dear. You need never make that terrible journey again.”
9
Roseann peeked out the window. The rain had started overnight, pelting down with such force that small pools of water were gathering over the landscape. She pressed her nose against the glass pane. The weather seemed to be echoing her own feelings.
She saw MacCain, and one of the other Laird’s men, getting the carriage ready, scurrying backwards and forwards through the rain. Today was the day that she was supposed to return to Scotland. She hadn’t told the men yet, that she wasn’t returning. She had tried two times, but her courage – and her heart – had failed her, as soon as she had opened her mouth to speak.
Her heart started to beat a little faster. Domhnall would be waiting for her back at Coirecrag. She had promised him that she would be returning. She shivered and blushed, remembering their kisses and the way he had caressed her. He had reassured her that she wouldn’t go to hell for doing such things, but the simple truth was that it was only because it was him that she was willing to take such a risk. He made her feel things that she had never imagined, not in her wildest dreams.
She pressed her face harder against the glass, her eyes filling with sudden tears. And now, she was never going to see him again.
The thought caused her so much pain that she gasped. How was it that she could have grown so attached to him, in so short a time? She had only known the man a month, and at the start, she had intensely disliked him, thinking him a barbarian. But then, he had thought her an English spy and placed her under house arrest. It was no wonder she had been a little prejudiced against him.
It wasn’t like that, now. It wasn’t like that at all.
She sighed deeply, restlessly turning away from the window. She shouldn’t be thinking about her own feelings anymore, or what she wanted. Her family was in crisis. If they didn’t come up with the coin that was needed to cover her late uncle’s debts, then Loughton Hall was going to be possessed. They would all have to move out to different lodgings and watch their ancestral home be sold off to the highest bidder.
She shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about but think about it she must. It was looming over them, like the sword of Damocles, threatening to cut off the only life that they had ever known. Who were they, if they did not reside at Loughton Hall?
Roseann sighed, pacing the room, trying desperately to think of a way forward, a way that could save them. But as hard as she racked her brains, an answer would not come to her. She had suggested that she ask the Laird for a large loan against her salary, but her father had stiffened, saying that he would not put his only daughter in debt to such a large amount. He had been adamant. It was bad enough that she was working as a tutor to a Scottish Laird, never mind that she owed him such a substantial figure.
The door opened. Lady Croilton walked into the room, carrying a jug of mead in her right hand and two goblets in the other.
Roseann stared at her, surprised. “Do we have something to celebrate?” Her heart lurched, even at the slight possibility, that there could be some good news, at long last.
Her mother smiled. “Sit down, Roseann. You have been haunting this house like a ghost ever since you got back.” She poured them both some mead, handing her daughter a goblet. “We have not talked alone, just the two of us, and I think that we should.” Her voice was determined.
Roseann sighed but did as her mother commanded, taking a chair in front of the fire. Her mother sat opposite, sipping her drink. Then she turned to her daughter.
“You have not told me much about the Laird of Greum Dubh,” she said slowly. “You have been very tight-lipped about the man.”
Roseann flushed. “What do you mean, Mother? I told you the afternoon that I arrived.” She sipped her drink. “He is a kind, good Laird to his people, and he has been generous with me. The coin that he gave is much more than was agreed…”
Her mother waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, yes, I know all that,” she said quickly. “But that is just what he is, rather than who h
e is. Anyone can tell me those things.” She gazed at her sharply. “How did he treat you? Tell me what your impressions of him are.”
Roseann gazed at her mother, a little stupefied. What did it matter anymore what she thought of the Laird of Greum Dubh? Her parents had decreed that she would never see him again. And more to the point, why did her mother want to know what she thought of him, anyway?
Her heart heavy, she took another sip of the mead. It was warming; she felt herself growing numb as if her limbs were made of lead. For a moment, she watched the flames flickering in the fireplace, gold and red, almost licking the chimney before she replied.
A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander Page 7