by Willa Blair
“MacDuff.” Jamie’s tone was flat.
“Aye,” Taney agreed, his excitement at carrying the news falling away to match the seriousness of the expressions on both their faces. “The MacDuff and his men. They say the pass is blocked and they canna get through.”
“Wonderful,” Ellie said. “If the pass is blocked, they may be with us till spring comes again.” Her mind skipped to the thought of housing and feeding so many men through the winter. Jamie’s eyebrow arched even higher. A slight crinkle in the corner of his mouth recalled Ellie to his situation. “Aye, ye Lathans, too. Though I’d rather see ye here than MacDuff and his men.”
“I had hoped as much,” Jamie replied drily.
Ellie rewarded his droll humor with a quirk of her lips that failed to reach her eyes, then sighed and turned back to Taney. “Go tell Sawney I’ll be down in a moment.”
The lad took off at a run.
Jamie eyed her, head tilted to the side, questioning. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. The MacDuff is my problem.” She moved to the door, then turned back to where Jamie stood, watching her. “Thank ye, though, for yer offer. The day may yet come when I will need yer help to deal with him.”
“Then ye shall have it.”
Ellie nodded, satisfied, and headed downstairs.
****
Donal watched with interest as Ellie greeted her returned guests in the great hall. Jamie arrived right on her heels—a show of support? Had they been in a meeting? Or was it just a coincidence of timing?
Either way, Jamie’s appearance at Ellie’s back seemed to disturb the MacDuff. He gave her a frown, still shaking snow from his hair and shoulders. His men moved toward the fireplace as Ellie confronted him.
“The pass is blocked?”
“Aye. From the looks of it, it’ll stay that way until the weather clears.”
Ellie opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it as if she’d thought better of it. Finally she spoke. “Then ye’re welcome to yer quarters in the south tower. They’ve no’ been disturbed since ye left earlier today.”
Donal hid a grin. Ellie’s expression didn’t look welcoming to him.
The MacDuff nodded. “We’d appreciate something hot to eat. And a dram or two to warm us. It’s bitter cold out there.”
“Aye, of course,” Ellie replied, blushing. “Sit by the fire. The kitchen will have something out to ye in a moment.”
“Will ye no’ sit with us?” MacDuff asked politely enough on the surface, though Donal heard the lash of command in his tone.
“Nay, I canna,” Ellie replied, backing up. There it was again. That hint of fear that slipped out from behind the anger she kept tightly under wraps around MacDuff. Donal nearly stood to go to her, but Ellie turned and moved toward the kitchen. She left the MacDuff glaring after her. He looked irritated enough for Donal to suspect he saw her anger. Donal hoped he didn’t see the fear.
In a moment, MacDuff turned his glare on Jamie. “Ye Lathans are here for the duration as well, aye?”
“So it seems,” Jamie answered mildly. Donal kept his seat, not wanting to escalate the tension. He suspected Jamie used his low tone to work with the warmth of the fire in the hopes of calming the MacDuff down. Jamie kept his hands open at his sides and his stance easy. Finally, the MacDuff did the same, lowering the set of his shoulders. He waved toward the hearth.
“May as well get warm, then, aye? That dram can’t come too soon.”
Jamie nodded his agreement and gestured toward the nearby chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll go find the whisky.”
MacDuff turned to the fire. Donal had no doubt he was used to being waited on. Jamie had taken advantage of that to distract him.
Jamie turned toward the kitchen, catching Donal’s eye as he did. Donal rose and went to join him.
“Well done,” Donal told him quietly as they left the hall and walked down the corridor to the kitchen. “Ye played him like a Highland fiddle.”
“I merely used his expectations against him. The mark of a good negotiator...”
“Ye are that...occasionally.”
They stopped at the threshold to the kitchen. Ellie sat facing the door at a long wooden table, a bottle and several pewter cups at her elbow and a track of fresh tears bright on her cheeks. Behind her, kitchen staff scurried about and fragrant steam rose off of a kettle on the fire.
“Oh dear,” she groaned when she noticed them.
Donal nearly jumped out of his skin when Jamie’s elbow connected with his side. But he set his feet in motion and went to kneel by Ellie. “What’s amiss, lass?”
“I canna go out there.”
“’Tis yer hall, ye can go anywhere ye please,” Donal told her, mystified by her tears. He glanced around to enlist Jamie’s support. Where had he gone? Ach, he’d absconded with the bottle and cups while Donal’s attention was on the lass. And left Donal to deal with her weeping? He’d pay for this.
“Ye dinna understand,” she began. Donal shook his head.
“Nay, I dinna think I do. Tell me.”
“The MacDuff wants my land, my clan. To get them, he’ll use me...and I fear his patience is running out.”
“Ye dinna wish to marry him?”
Ellie looked at him like he had three heads, wide-eyed, mouth agape. “Nay. Never.”
“Then dinna do it. Ye’re laird here. Ye have told him nay.”
“I’ve told him nay. But how do I prevent him? I have no protection...save ye.”
A punch to the gut would have hurt less and left Donal with more breath in his body. He had not considered this aspect of her clan’s vulnerability. That another laird would take her body to gain her lands and her wealth. Honorable marriage was one thing. Forcing a woman in order to compromise her was quite another.
Ellie watched him with brimming eyes, waiting, no doubt, for him to say aye, he’d save her from MacDuff, and from any other man she didn’t want. But could he make such a promise? What would he do when she finally found a man she could accept? Would he stand by and let another man have her?
Suddenly he was right back in the solar with the sensation of her lips soft under his, his need for her barely controlled.
Then another thought occurred to him. That bastard Jamie had set this up. Donal knew he was crafty, but had never considered how crafty he could be. He’d pushed Donal toward Ellie so Donal would be taken in by her tears. So that her tears would soften him toward her and make him willing to stay by her side, to guard her from the harm that seemed to be threatening her from all sides. So that she would sign the godforsaken treaty! With a growl, Donal stood and paced past her toward the kettle in the hearth. The cook saw him coming, took one look at the expression on his face, and darted to the other side of the room as fast as her generous size would let her.
When he turned around, Ellie’s face was in her hands. Silent sobs wracked her shoulders.
Ach, look at her.
Aye, perhaps Jamie had taken the whisky out to the MacDuff to give Ellie time to compose herself. He was always more attuned to others’ feelings than Donal would ever be.
She needed more time.
Donal gestured to the cook. “Did Ellie ask ye to feed the MacDuff and his men?”
The cook nodded.
“Call yer serving lasses and get whatever’s in that kettle out to them, then. I’ll no’ have him coming in here looking for it.”
The cook scurried to do his bidding and in moments, they were alone. When Donal turned back to Ellie, her shoulders had stilled and she had wiped the tears from her cheeks. Ah good, the storm had passed, then?
Finally she looked up at him and nodded. “Thank ye for doin’ that,” she offered. “I hadna thought, but ye had the right of it. MacDuff would send a man in here if he wasna served quickly enough.”
“He’ll no’ be doin’ that. Jamie took the whisky out to him.”
A broken chuckle escaped her. “MacKyrie whisky is potent. Jamie had best take car
e.”
For more reasons than the whisky, Donal thought with a grimace. Jamie and his meddling...aye, Donal would get him for this.
Ellie stood and came to him, a little smirk playing around her lips. Then she leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “That’s for ye both.”
Jamie was not the only master negotiator in the place. Ellie still tried to draw him in with her attentions. Two could play that game. His arms went around her even as the thought crossed his mind he shouldn’t be doing this. He fisted his hands in her hair and laid her head against his shoulder, struggling to comfort her, not ravish her as he strongly wanted to do. Then she sighed and melted against him, her arms going around his waist, her hands on the small of his back. His buttocks tightened with their proximity. She moved in his arms, her warmth searing him where their bodies touched. If he didn’t stand away from her...now...he was going to kiss her again.
His hands seemed to move of their own accord, tilting her face up to his. Her breath whispered across his lips. Donal lowered his mouth to hers with all the haste of a man who hurried to do what he knew he should not. But her kiss was so sweet, her body so warm and right in his arms, he couldn’t stop himself. As he deepened the kiss, Ellie opened her mouth to him, moaning into his. He pulled her even closer, as unwilling to let this moment end as he was to let it go further. Then Ellie’s hands drifted from the small of his back down the curve of his backside and he remembered he held no blushing virgin in his arms. He played with fire with a woman who knew what to do with a man. He broke off the kiss, then pulled her grip from his backside and clasped her hands together under his chin. He dipped his head to drop a kiss on her knuckles, then released her and stepped away, hoping his arousal would not be completely obvious to her.
“Ye need no’ do this, lass. I will protect ye from MacDuff. I dinna ken who’ll protect ye from me.”
“What if I dinna wish to be protected from ye?”
Donal gritted his teeth. She was hell-bent to drive him insane with need.
“Perhaps ’tis I who need protection from ye, lass.”
“What? A big strong warrior such as ye needs protection from a mere lass? Never.”
“Ye underestimate yer appeal, Ellie. Dinna try me again, or I may no’ have the will to resist ye.”
For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her this evening, she smiled.
Chapter 7
As she went about her chores the next morning, Ellie could still feel the heat of Donal’s hard body under her palms. Last night, she’d cracked the reserve he wore around him like armor, and instead of drawing back from her, he’d admitted he might not have the will to resist her much longer. Her pulse surged at the thought. And his kiss! His unique taste stayed with her. She wanted many more of his kisses, and more than that. Donal had been on the edge of going far beyond kissing her but had reasserted his iron control at the last moment.
She’d made progress getting through to him. He’d as much as told her he could not defend against her forever. Aye, he was determined to tread carefully around her, though there could be no question that he liked and wanted her. Even respected her, though she could do with a little less respect from him, and more passion. If only he would come to know her well enough to realize laird was just a title. One she wore with pride, but also with reluctance. One that did not make her better than him or out of his reach. One that he could attain with her, if only he wished to.
Nay, she had to put that out of her mind. One step at a time, Ellie. Dinna overreach or ye’ll push him away. That thought stopped her. Nay, she didn’t want to push him away. She wanted to draw him nearer. But if he resisted her advances, she’d have to be more subtle. If she could. Donal offered a temptation she would be hard pressed to resist.
She entered the kitchen in time to hear Cook muttering under her breath as she punched down a mound of bread dough.
“Goodness, Cook. What’s amiss?”
Cook’s head jerked up and her face colored. “Ach, good morning to ye, lass. I was runnin’ through me mind what stores we still have available to us. All these big braw men are making quite a dent in our larder. If ye have some time, we would be well advised to take account.”
How she’d keep her mind on beans and barley she had no idea. The memory of Donal’s face as he admitted she could break through his tightly held control kept returning to the forefront of her mind. She could barely keep herself from spinning around and laughing. Wouldn’t Cook wonder at that? Ellie shook her head. She must keep her mind on the clan’s well-being. “Of course I’ll help ye.”
Cook covered the dough with a damp rag, wiped her hands with another, and muttered, “Come along.”
“Oh dear.” Ellie’s optimistic mood fled. Suddenly, Donal was the last thing on her mind. Or next to last. Breaking her fast, the errand that had brought her here, fell to last. Cook rarely fretted over the larder. She could feed an army with scraps if she had to. “How bad is it? What do ye think we need?”
“Fresh meat most of all. Fish, too.” Cook led her down the back stairs into the kitchen’s cellar. Well below ground, it stayed cool year-round. But the large blocks of ice they kept in the deeper part lowered the temperature there even more. Jugs of milk and cream, eggs, butter, and cheese were stored among them, as was meat, fish and fowl, fresh killed and salted. “That shouldna be a surprise. Ye ken we’ve plenty of flour, oats, and root vegetables stored away down here.”
Ellie reached out to stroke one of the cats that kept rodents away from the food stores. The sleepy tabby mouser curled up atop a stack of bags that held oats. He rolled over to expose his belly for a rub. Ellie complied, looking around the cellar while she took care of the cat. Cook wisely fed the cats, which meant they often visited the kitchen and the cellar, knowing their next meal would soon appear. They might find something Cook provided, or a rodent that made its way this far into the keep. She kept the meat and fish stores securely wrapped and covered in straw to keep the cats from getting at them. Those bundles were nearly gone.
“There’s enough for a day or two,” Cook continued, moving the straw aside to show Ellie, who left off petting the cat, intending to join her. But the mouser had other ideas, batting at her fingers as if to say, Who told ye to stop?
“Ye’ve spoiled this cat, Cook. He sleeps all day. Now he wants me to keep petting him.”
Cook laughed. “Ah, that one. He’s a charmer, he is. And more deadly than he looks. Watch those claws.”
Ellie pulled her hand away after a final rub, reluctant to give up stroking the cat’s silky fur.
“But if someone doesna go hunting soon, either we’ll have to slaughter one of the coos or I’ll be feeding all of ye gruel for every meal. No one will like that.”
Ellie enjoyed a thought, just for a moment, of feeding gruel to Lachlan MacDuff at every meal. It might drive him from her keep all the sooner. But she would not do that to the Lathans, nor to her own people.
Ellie stepped away from the cat, who had resumed his nap, and tallied the bags of grains stacked against one wall. Aye, enough to make gruel to keep them going for most of the winter. On the other hand, it might be the last straw to convince Lachlan the MacKyries needed saving—no matter what his own plans were. She didn’t want that, but she would not slaughter one of their herd of Highland cattle, not yet. She wished to keep it intact, at least until later in the winter when fresh beef would be needed more than now. Cook had the right of it. “So I need to send the lads out to hunt, aye?”
“Why don’t ye give all those men something useful to do? I’ll wager they’re a might better at the hunt than our lads. Let ’em earn their keep.”
Of course! The solution to several problems, not the least of which was getting the MacDuffs out of the keep, if only for a few hours, so she wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder, skulking from place to place to avoid Lachlan. Ellie went to Cook and kissed her cheek. “Ye’re a genius, ye are. That’ll keep them from getting into mischief, won’t it? That�
��s brilliant.”
Cook dimpled at her laird’s praise. “I do have an idea or two rattlin’ around in my head, lass.”
“Aye, I ken ye do, and I thank ye for this one. We could also send some of the lads to the burn to fish, but I’d rather keep them inside until the hunters return.”
Suddenly a fragment of a dream came back to Ellie. An arrow in flight, burying itself in a tree a hair’s breadth from a dark head. A man? Or a lad? The rest of the dream would not come back to her. What had happened next? She shook herself, unsure if it had been part of a Seeing or just a dream.
“That’s wise,” Cook told her. “I’d hate for one of them to be mistaken for a deer or a boar. In those thick woods, the hunters would never ken until it was too late.”
Ellie nodded in agreement. “I’ll go tell Micheil to organize the hunt. Won’t he enjoy giving orders to our visitors? I fear he’s been feeling outmatched since the Lathans arrived.”
“Aye, no doubt. Most of them are twice his size and half again his age. Go tell him then. Let him have his fun. The sooner they go, the sooner I’ll ken what we’re having for the evening meal.”
****
MacDuff scowled out the window cut into the side of the stables. The view of the bailey revealed nothing to him that he wanted to know. Such as the whereabouts of the MacKyrie. When he claimed the MacKyrie laird along with her clan and its wealth, he’d tear her towers down, stone by stone. They held too many places to hide, and Ellie must’ve used them all this morning. He’d yet to encounter her, even at the midday meal.
Aye, she’d succeeding in avoiding him. She had on previous visits, too, but her absence this time worried more than angered him. Was she with those Lathans? He hadn’t seen any of them, either. They’d best leave her be, if they knew what was good for them. If even one of them touched her, he’d have the man’s head, kill the lot of them, then find their keep and destroy it, too.
He studied the man across the aisle from him. All these MacKyries were young, except for a handful who were very old. Either way, they were useless. They couldn’t fight, they couldn’t farm. They’d be no good in his mines, either—most were too old and weak or too young and weak. Only a few were of a size and age to be useful in the tighter shafts.