by Tarah Scott
“You are positive no others hide nearby?” Iain addressed Thomas, but kept his attention on the twelve riders outside the gates.
“Our scouts detected none.”
Iain studied the men. “Their tempers are as dark as the clouds.”
“They have had time to bring it to a fine simmer.”
“Much like those of our own people.” When Iain had crossed the courtyard to the battlements to get a look at the Robertsons, a large group of MacPhersons had already gathered. “Open the gates after I’m below.”
Once allowed into the MacPherson stronghold with his men, David Robertson made no move to dismount and demanded the return of the criminal in much the same way his kinsman had.
“She will not be returned until I have heard the case,” Iain said, not bothering to tell them he’d already sent word to the brother Jillian belatedly admitted having.
The Robertson’s eyes narrowed. “You make a grave error in judgment.”
Iain smiled without humor. “Is that how William will see things?”
David’s hand flew to his scabbard, bringing with it a chorus of MacPherson steel drawn from surrounding sheaths. Not one MacPherson warrior relaxed his stance even when David’s hand grudgingly fell from his weapon.
David sneered. “Iain MacPherson thinks to approach William, leader of the entire Robertson clan, with such a petty matter? He will say the same; this is not your business.”
Iain shrugged. His kilt snapped in the wind as if begging David to try his mood. “So your kinsmen informed me.” Iain crossed his arms over his chest. “If you believe me incapable of standing by my word, then do what you will. But remember, I am not a forgiving man.”
David nodded. “And I am not a man to forget.”
A whisper rippled through the crowd behind Iain when David Robertson wheeled his horse around. He cracked the reins against his horse’s flank and galloped through the gate followed by his men.
When the gates slammed shut behind the last man, Iain turned back toward the castle. He stopped at seeing his captive among the crowd.
Uncharacteristic bemusement played in her features, but before he could speculate what she might be thinking, Maude stepped beside her and whispered in her ear. Sudden panic replaced her puzzled expression, and her attention flew to his face. He started in her direction as Thomas fell in step beside him.
“Is something wrong?” Thomas asked.
“Look there.” Iain nodded in the direction of the women. “See the look on the lass’s face?”
“It is strange,” Thomas agreed. “But then, they have all been acting strange of late.”
Iain stopped. “Strange?”
“I have wondered for some time what they are plotting.”
“What do you mean, plotting?”
“I have no notion,” Thomas said. “But knowing those clever females, it could be anything.”
“This strangeness does not, per chance, occur when referring to the lass?”
His cousin looked surprised. “I believe it does.”
With Thomas following, Iain set out for the women who were now making their way in a leisurely walk toward the castle. Maude’s voice was the first Iain heard as they approached.
“’Tis what we agreed. You must have faith in us.” The lass shook her head. “It is not a sound notion.
There is enough trouble for the time being.” Iain exchanged a glance with Thomas.
“Nay,” Maude’s voice rose, “I am telling you, Vi—” one of the women coughed loudly.
Looking back, Maude smiled at Iain, who matched step with them.
“What mischief are you up to?” he asked.
Angelic as any angel of heaven, Maude blinked up at him. Iain wondered if he had somehow been mistaken in suspecting her, then his gaze fell on the lass. She looked guilty as sin.
“Have you something to say?” he asked the lass. She lengthened her stride.
“If you have something to say, now is the time.”
“What would Vi—er, she be needing to say?” Maude interjected.
Iain caught sight of Thomas, who had turned his head to the side and was grappling with laughter. With a grunt, Iain refocused on Maude. “Mayhap you would prefer to explain?”
A trace of doubt crept into her eyes. “Nay.”
“Nay, what?”
Maude looked startled. “Nay, Laird.”
They had reached the kitchen door, and Iain stopped and allowed the women to pass ahead of him. The lass slipped ahead of one of the women. Iain reached for her, but almost grabbed the arm of the woman she had cut off. He dropped his hand and stepped aside until they had all gone inside, then braced his hands on either side of the doorframe and waited.
His captive sat at the table and began peeling the onions laying there, while the other women resumed preparations for the evening meal.
When it became obvious he was being ignored, Iain spoke up. “How long do you plan on waiting before answering me?” When no one answered, he added, “You had best beware, my lass. I think you know me capable of drastic measures.”
Her eyes riveted on him. Iain raised a brow, only to be rewarded with a twinge of irritation when her expression turned languid.
“The only thing going on, my lord, is preparations for the evening meal.”
“Nay, lass, there is much more than that going on. For one, you are now adding disobedience to your mounting sins.”
She looked startled. “What in the name of Hades are you talking about?”
Iain strained to hear her words when she began muttering incoherently. At great length, he realized she was not about to quit her personal ravings.
He crossed to the table and caught her wrist, wresting the knife from her fingers. “I said you were to cease working in the kitchen. That, my lass, is what
I meant by disobedience.”
“What other sins do you refer to?” she asked.
“You are hiding something from me.” She blinked, then her eyes narrowed. “Ladies.” The bustle of work came to a halt. “We must confess. The master has found me out. How very clever of you. Tell me, when did the answer come to you?” A dazed sense of reality washed over Iain.
“Was it the day you stole me from the abbey? Or perhaps it was somewhere along the way.” She tapped her lower lip with a forefinger. Iain was just beginning to register the perplexing question when she added, “I know.” Her eyes brightened with a seeming revelation. “It must have been the day we arrived at Fauldun Castle. Do you remember?” She gazed at him with rapt attention.
“Aye, love, I remember it well.”
“Then you agree?”
“Agree with what?”
She gave an encouraging nod of her head. “That was the day you understood.”
“Sweet, I have never understood you. Not now, not then, and I begin to fear I never will.”
“But, my lord,” she said, horrified shock coloring her expression, “I am an open book.”
“On the contrary, you are a closed volume, and even the quick peeks I have glimpsed befuddle me.” Her brows knit. “How distressing.”
“Distressing?”
She nodded. “First I find I have shaken your ability to woo a fair maiden, and now I discover you are at a loss to understand me. Are you ill?” She jumped up and placed a hand across his brow, then drew it away. “Nay. You seem well. I suppose, then, ’tis understandable you have the presence of mind to comprehend I am hiding something from you.” With that, she plopped back in her chair.
It had been years, but Iain recognized the heat of embarrassment that flooded his cheeks. Thomas stood in the doorway, laughter on his face.
Iain faced her and consigned his sanity to oblivion as he felt himself fall into the pools of blue that stared up at him. Christ, would he never cease hearing the crash of waves every time she looked at him? A silent prayer, the first since his mother’s death, went up that his heart would not be dashed against the rocks before he found out.
&n
bsp; Chapter Fourteen
By daylight, or moonlight, no other word could describe the scene before her. Magnificent. Victoria stood transfixed by the sight of the men who worked to break up the boulders that had rolled from the side of the mountain. She touched her cheek where warmth had crept up. Sweet Jesu. It wasn’t the group of men that held her attention, but one man in particular.
Her eyes remained on Iain McPherson, stripped to the waist, awl gripped in readiness for another strike at the rock he was breaking up. Every muscle in his chest strained with each powerful blow he wielded. The sound of metal striking stone rang off the mountainside, and a thrill went through Victoria. She remembered the feel of him close to her, but not until witnessing such power in motion had she appreciated the strength of that body.
He swung the awl once more and her resolve faltered. She’d just stepped from the trees into the clearing. A few quiet steps backward and she could melt back into the foliage. Iain turned in her direction. Victoria froze. For an instant, it seemed he looked through her, then his brows lifted in question, causing her heart to thud.
Iain set the metal end of the awl on the ground and leaned expectantly against the wooden handle. When she made no move to approach, he tilted his head in obvious invitation. She suddenly felt very much the captive, awaiting the good will of her master before entering his presence. Heat flooded her cheeks anew, and her first step in his direction was clumsy with the effort to still her shaking knees. Victoria steadied herself, then picked her way through the scattered debris.
“Morning, love,” Iain said when she paused a few feet away.
She ignored the leap of her heart at the gentle note in his voice. What had come over her? If she didn’t gather her wits, she was sure to muddle the whole thing.
Victoria nodded. “Good morning, my lord. I see you are hard at work.” She gestured at the rocks strewn about them.
Iain picked up a nearby cloth and wiped sweat from his chest. “One of the disadvantages of a mountain for a wall.” He flashed a grin as he discarded the cloth.
His smile disarmed her, and she couldn’t help smiling back. “’Tis an ongoing problem, I would suppose.”
“A few fall every year. Not so many as you would think.”
There was a moment of silence, then Iain lifted the awl as if to resume his work. Victoria searched her brain for some way of broaching the subject she’d come to discuss, all earlier plans having vaporized.
“Ah…” she began, and he lifted a quizzical brow. Courage, she told herself before saying, “I understand
you are to travel to the village.”
“Aye.”
Iain leaned the awl against the rock and walked to where a bucket sat.
Victoria followed. “I would like to accompany you.”
She waited as he lifted the ladle and poured a cupful of water over his face. He took a deep drink, then ran his hand across his face and smoothed his dark brown hair back before reaching for another cloth.
“Would you now?” He wiped his face with the linen, then tossed it aside and gave her his full attention. “Why should I take you?”
“It is untenable being held prisoner within these walls.”
“A prison of your own making.”
Victoria felt as if a match had been struck beneath her when he started toward the place where men were piling the rocks for removal. “Oh, if I were a man,” she said under her breath.
“What would you do?”
“I would not remain your prisoner. And I would make you pay for kidnapping me.” “Tit for tat?” he asked.
“Aye.”
“How would you suggest I make you pay for your recent foolishness?”
Victoria knew it was wiser to keep a reign on her temper, but temptation was too great. “Which recent foolishness do you refer to, my lord? The one where I tried to escape, or the one when I took one too many steps in the wrong direction?”
Iain surprised her by grinning. “There are quite a few to choose from, eh, lass?”
She gave a loud “hmph,” and he paused as if to allow her to add more wisdom to the conversation. “Or,” he went on, “shall we speak of the time you set out in the middle of the night and found yourself at the mercy of a man who would have taken what he wanted?”
Her heart skipped, but not because of the memory of the man who had followed her, but the one she had left standing in the doorway. The look on Iain’s face seemed to say he’d known that all along, and she realized her goal was fast slipping through her fingers.
“If I promise not to do any of those things while we are gone?” she asked.
“Promise?” Iain chuckled. “Lass, you cannot help yourself.”
“I can help myself well enough. Perhaps it is you who cannot help himself? Do you fear being unable to keep your word?”
He looked at her blankly.
“The vow you gave not to force me,” Victoria explained.
His confusion became open amusement. “If I intended to break my word, sweet, you would be tied to my bed.”
An image of that scene flashed before her eyes, inducing a quiver in her belly. For an instant, she wished Iain was close enough to lean on, but when his eyes grew curious, she fell back on her fury.
“You were more than a little out of control the other night,” she said.
“Out of control?” he repeated, then threw his head back and laughed so hard she wondered if perhaps he hadn’t already had an ale or two that morning.
He finally composed himself and regarded her with what seemed to be renewed respect mingled with shrewd understanding. “You have never seen me out of control—and if you are referring to the other night when I escorted you safely home, you should thank me for intervening. That was a nasty character following you.” Iain gave her a considering look. “Are you complaining?”
“Complaining?”
“Aye. Perhaps you would rather I had stayed?”
“Cad! You are a loathsome man.”
Iain’s brows shot up. “Not so loathsome as your admirer that night.”
“Loathsome and obnoxious.”
“Pretty way to speak to a man who you would ask a favor of.”
Victoria stopped. The abominable creature was right. “’Tis your fault,” she complained.
“Aye, I am sure you think so.”
“You have no intention of taking me?”
“It would be troublesome, chasing after you,” he said.
“I swear, I will give you no cause for concern.”
“Love, your very presence causes me concern.”
Victoria gave him a calculated look. “There is a simple way to solve that problem.”
Iain nodded. “True, but you are not cooperating.”
She clenched her fists and surprised herself by stamping her foot on the ground. “You know full well
I am speaking of releasing me.”
“That would not solve the problem,” he said with a definitive shake of his head.
“I suppose,” she said with a dramatic throw of her hands in the air, “were I to consent, you would gladly allow me to come with you.”
Dead silence followed until Iain asked, “Are you making an offer?”
“I will not give what you demand,” she said, cursing the whispered words, instead of the forthright statement she’d intended.
“I am willing to start with a token,” Iain said.
“A-a token?”
“Something small. I am not a greedy man.”
“Such as?”
“A kiss,” he said.
The impulse to deny the request was quelled by the strong desire to set foot outside the walls. “You would let me come in exchange for a kiss?” He nodded.
She regarded him. “Why? You have kissed me before.”
“True, but you have never kissed me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You want me—I could not.”
Iain shrugged.
Victoria stiffened. “So, it is to be bla
ckmail, then?”
“Perhaps. But as it is you who wishes to go, fair play dictates you pay for the privilege.” “Oh, I am paying,” she muttered.
“Nay, lass. You have not paid, not at all.”
Victoria knew he wasn’t speaking of stepping off holy ground, but of not heeding his warnings.
Iain stood looking at her. When she did nothing to answer the question, he turned.
“Wait.” She took a step after him. “You promise.
A kiss, nothing more?”
He faced her. “You know I am a man of my word.”
There was no disagreeing with that. For all his faults, he was an honest man.
Victoria approached to within arm’s length. He made no move to embrace her. The debate as to how to go about the business was raging in her brain when the thought occurred to her that he hadn’t lain down any rules. A kiss was a kiss. It would be impossible to reach his lips without standing on her toes, and in order to do that she would be forced to place her hands on his shoulders. A quick kiss on the jaw, however, would require no more than a perfunctory action.
Victoria took another step in his direction even as she glanced at the men who were still working. They were far enough away to have not heard the quiet conversation, but close enough to see the private exchange about to take place. A glance and a smile from one of them confirmed her analysis. She began the final, quick move toward Iain when his voice cut into her concentration. “Beware, lass.” Victoria froze.
“Though I would be pleased to have you kiss me anywhere you like, I must insist on a kiss to the lips. Anything else, no matter how pleasant, will result in a second attempt. If you feel the need to practice…”
Victoria looked up at him. At the gleam in his eyes, a tremor began in the pit of her stomach. “Your word, then? Only a kiss?”
He nodded. “I will not even touch you.” I will not need to; Victoria felt his thought as surely as if he’d spoken it.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, thankful he seemed unaffected when she leaned toward him. Her fingers shook. Nerves, she told herself. Never in her life had she initiated a kiss. How did one do it?
“Do not think to give me a quick peck and run away,” Iain said.
“Sweet Jesu, man, how many confounded rules do you intend to impose before this business is finished?”