Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3)

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Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) Page 8

by Angeline Fortin


  Artair seemed unamused by her answer, though a sharp snort from Keir ended in a cough.

  “Alone?” Artair pressed. His eyes drifted only a tiny bit south before lifting again. It didn’t creep her out too much. His gaze was not lustful, merely appreciative and it seemed more as if he simply couldn’t help himself. A family of rakes.

  She nodded. “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “That is unfortunate. Hae ye seen much of our fair Hielands on yer travels then?”

  “No, not much at all,” she said, glancing askance at Keir. “A bit of the moors, your fine dungeon…”

  Keir chuckled but Artair maintained a straight face.

  “Enough pestering the lass, Artair,” he said. “She’s here wi’out family or connection. As I said, I’ve taken it as my duty to protect her. From all threats, including being wearied by endless questions.”

  She raised a brow at that.

  “Except those delivered by myself, naturally.”

  “Of course,” she agreed with open sarcasm and for the first time a full smile blossomed on Keir’s lips. Again her insides fluttered and she was thankful for Artair’s presence as it kept her from making a fool out of herself.

  Oblivious to the flirtatious undertones, Artair only nodded. “Of course. Mayhap I can offer some more uplifting company beyond a threat, however.”

  “Looking for a new audience for yer preachings?” Keir asked and turned to Al. “You’ll hae tae forgi’ Artair, lass, he’s an awful stick in the mud. A vicar, no less.”

  “Really?”

  Like his brother, Artair was a handsome man with about the same height and coloring. He was lean rather than muscular. While he seemed subdued in manner, he didn’t possess the pious quality she’d noticed in the few men of the cloth she’d met in her life.

  “Aye, wi’ two parishes. One in Dingwall and another at Rosebraugh.”

  Rosebraugh again. The name seemed to be everywhere, the two families firmly intertwined. She felt a fresh stab of remorse for having played a part in causing them all such grief.

  Odd though that they would all seem more broken up about Hugh’s apparent death and not their father’s. All she’d seen for the Earl of Cairn thus far was anger and frustration.

  “I am sorry to hear about your father’s disappearance. You must all be so worried.”

  Artair looked at Keir and both men shrugged. “I do hae a care for Father’s fate. I should be most saddened if the worst were tae happen.”

  High sentiment.

  “Just as I am saddened by Frang’s loss,” he added, looking far more aggrieved then.

  There it was again. “Frang?”

  Keir seemed to read her discomfiture. “Frang was our other brother, born between myself and Artair. He died in the battle.”

  She didn’t feel like he was saying everything. Still, he also seemed suddenly sad, all traces of humor washed away as he stared blankly out toward the firth.

  “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “’Tis a terrible blow tae lose a brother,” Artair said quietly. “’Tis why we worry so o’er Hugh… and Father. Another loss would be difficult tae bear.”

  “I see.”

  The old retainer who’d announced Ceana into the dining room the previous night shuffled across the graveled path calling Keir’s name. He roused himself from his mournful silence to answer.

  “Aye, Archie?”

  “Aye, laddie.”

  “Ye needed me?”

  “Oh? Aye.” He rheumy eyes clouded for a moment before he brightened and held out the folded paper in his hand. “A message came for ye.”

  She wondered how long ago it had come and how many stops and starts the obviously forgetful old man had taken on his path to the gardens.

  Sending the old man on his way, Keir cracked the wax seal and read it, a frown drawing his dark brows together. “Mathilde has news, or rather nae news a’tall. Hawick has seen nae record of Father being killed on the battlefield nor among the few prisoners being held in Inverness. He is checking into those taken south.”

  “‘Tis something at least.”

  Keir glanced Al’s way as if he heard the silent question. “Mathilde is another of Hugh’s sisters. She’s wed tae the Earl of Hawick. Upon my request, she’s trying tae hae Hawick find oot more when they go next tae Edinburgh.” He crumbled the note in his hand. “Twill nae be easy though. He’ll nae want tae help.”

  His brother nodded in agreement but she was baffled. “Why not?”

  “Hawick supports the Sassenach king on this issue, lass.”

  “Oh, he’s English then?”

  “Nay, but he’s a Lowlander so he might as well be.”

  “He’s Scottish but he fought for the other side?” she asked. Hadn’t Culloden been a battle between Scotland and England? “I don’t understand.”

  “Och, Keir,” Artair broke in, “ye cannae expect a lassie tae understand politics.”

  Her expression could have smote him to a pile of ashes but he was oblivious to it, just as he seemed to miss so much.

  Having seen the look, Keir’s lips lifted into a smile that quickly faded away. “The Hanoverian army was made up of Lowlanders as well.”

  “You fought your own countrymen?” She’d never heard that before. Had it been some sort of civil war?

  Again, Artair piped in. “Och, lassie, the Lowlanders are nae countrymen of ours.”

  “You’re all Scottish, aren’t you?” she asked, puzzled by his fervency. She didn’t turn to him for an explanation, though. He’d probably pat her on the head and tell her not to worry. Her eyes were on Keir.

  “Most Lowlanders more foreign than nae. A mix of Saxon, Anglo, Norman. Some of them are e’en more Flemish than Scot,” he said. “Nae like the Hielanders, a’tall. They see the Hieland chiefs as barbaric and tribal.”

  “I can’t imagine how they could make such a mistake.”

  That sexy smile kicked up once more, lifting away the last of his sorrow. “A Hielander is true tae his roots, lass. The Gaels and the Celts. They maun see us as savage merely because we embrace the ways of our ancestors but ‘tis a sight better than becoming like the Sassenach, taking up their ways and customs.”

  “Wait, didn’t you say something earlier about your grandmother being French?”

  He chuckled and gave her a wink. “Aye, and the other one was English. ‘Tis nae only what’s in our blood but what is in our hearts, lass. And I’m a Hielander true.”

  She envied him his sense of place and purpose, even if it had led him into a bloody battle. She was proud of being an American but knew it wasn’t in her bones like that. His nationalism was rather charming.

  “I should write a reply ‘ere the messenger leaves.” His eyes lingered on her indecisively.

  She rolled hers in response. “Go. I can entertain myself for a little while at least. I’m a big girl, you know?”

  A grin tilted the corner of his mouth and he bowed with flourish. “I am put in my place. Verra well, Big Al. Verra well. I will see ye at dinner.”

  “Mayhap I can provide ye some company in my brother’s absence?” Artair asked, as they watched Keir stride away. “Over luncheon?”

  Her stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d truly eaten.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “If ye care for an education in Hieland philosophy, I’d be happy tae provide that as well.”

  Al winced. Maybe not so wonderful.

  Chapter 13

  She hadn’t expected to like him.

  Al stood silently in the door of the library watching Keir scribble furiously across a sheet of paper. So utterly absorbed in the task, he didn’t notice her presence or even the plate of food forgotten at his elbow. Pausing only long enough to jab his pen into a bottle of ink, he resumed his writing. The way he so accurately poked the nib into the tiny bottle without looking told her the gesture was a practiced one.

  Yet another in a
long list of surprises in the past twenty-four hours. Wonderful hours that somehow washed away the misery of the days before. He’d spent the previous night managing to make her feel beautiful, delicate.

  Today, with his attention never swaying from her, hanging on her every word, he’d made her feel like the most captivating woman on earth.

  She, who’d never managed more than a few lines of casual conversation with a stranger, had whiled away a shocking number of hours talking to him nearly nonstop and with ever-growing ease. That alone was most unusual for her. Over that time, she’d begun gazing more into his eyes than at his gorgeous body. Started feeling more than mere lust, but respect as well.

  Yes, she liked him

  Perhaps too much.

  It would be all too easy to get sucked into thinking the past day would become representative of all the days ahead for her in this new world. That he would be like that every day. Attentive and interested. That it could last forever.

  Fantasies and fiction might work out that way, but she knew too well reality wasn’t always so generous. He’d gotten what he wanted from her. He now knew the truth of what had become of his cousin. There was nothing more he needed from her that a few more questions wouldn’t cover.

  Soon she would be on her way. On her own once more. She had no desire to take a love-sick heart along with her.

  Gently, she tapped on the doorframe, rapping more firmly when his focus remained on the page before him.

  He jerked his head up with a frown that melted away into a heart-stopping smile when he saw her in the door. “Al, lass, there ye are. Where hae ye been?”

  “Having lunch with your family,” she told him, entering when he motioned her forward. “You should have been there, it was wonderfully hostile. Maeve was shooting daggers at me the whole time.”

  He started in alarm but she raised a hand with a chuckle. “Figurative ones, not literal ones. Though I will assume from your reaction it was an actual possibility. I’ll watch my step around her.”

  He didn’t deny it but nodded. “I shouldnae hae left ye alone wi’ them. I apologize. I was sidetracked by other correspondence.”

  “It’s fine. I can take care of myself.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He relaxed in his chair with a smile. “Nevertheless, ‘twould be best if ye avoid Maeve as much as possible. She’s descended intae near madness since her son was killed. We will dine alone in the future.”

  The future? “It’s all right, but about the future…”

  “Please sit. Join me.”

  He pointed to the chair adjacent to his desk, but she shook her head. It could wait.

  “No, I can see you’re busy and have things to do. Really, I just wanted to thank you for defending me like you did this morning.”

  “”Twas naught tae be thanked for.” He whisked the gratitude away with a twitch of his fingers and studied her thoughtfully. “However, we may need to find a wee bit more proof that Hugh perhaps ‘died.’” He gestured to the chair once more time. “Please, sit.”

  Because she didn’t really want to leave his company, she sat as directed. “Do you have any ideas about what to say?”

  “Nay, but none of them, Maeve in particular, will accept a mere disappearance for long.”

  “And the truth is out of the question?”

  “Aye, unless ye hae a yen tae feel the flames licking at yer toes,” he joked. “Maeve isnae as enlightened as Hugh or e’en Ceana. She would ne’er rest until she saw it done.”

  She shuddered at the thought. “No, thank you.”

  “Ye’re safe here, lass. I promise ye. ”

  His assurance warmed her and yes, made her feel secure. “Thanks, but that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

  As it had been this morning, his attention was completely hers. Patient, no indication that he was in any hurry to resume his writing. It was perhaps the most flattering and heady behavior she’d ever experienced in a man’s presence. Suddenly, she didn’t want to talk to him about leaving Dingwall and glanced around the room for inspiration. “You know, there must be thousands of books in here. Do they get read, or are they just for show?”

  “Are ye asking if I can read, lass?” he jested. “I thought ye’d already satisfied yerself on the issue of my barbarism. But tae be clear, aye, I can read.”

  “I know… I wasn’t…” She flushed. “Oh, you can be a very frustrating person sometimes.”

  “I’m only joshing, ye ken,” he said. “Though ye’re a bonny sight when yer feathers are ruffled.”

  If it were possible, she felt her cheeks grow even hotter under his warm gaze. Scratching the back of her earlobe nervously, she pressed on, “Listen, I was just wondering… That is, I’m not a prisoner here any more, right?”

  “Of course, nae.” His playful grin fell into such a deep frown, his thick black brows nearly hid his eyes. He watched her broodingly. “Dinnae think such a thing.”

  “I didn’t… or at least, I wasn’t sure.” She paused with a sigh, her shoulders slumping forward slightly. “I was just thinking if I’m not a prisoner or whatever, that I should be going on my way. I mean, I can’t stay here forever, right?”

  Keir stared at her in silence for so long, Al began scratching at her earlobe again. “Why nae?”

  Because of him. Because of the danger of living too close to fantasies was that reality never measured up.

  “Ye dinnae need tae leave, lass,” he said, when it became clear she wasn’t going to speak. “Ye can stay here as my guest for as long as ye care tae.”

  “No, I couldn’t possibly.”

  That pensive look dropped again as if she were a puzzle he was trying to work out. “Do ye want tae leave, lass? Ye’ve nae where tae go here.”

  She glanced away once more, scanning the bookshelves blindly. “I told you, I’ll figure it out. And there’s no reason for me to stay. You’ve gotten what you needed from me already.”

  “Hae I now?”

  Her gaze shot back to him at the suggestive comment. His brow lifted a notch, his blue eyes twinkling. Heat flooded her face and she looked away. Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she pressed on. “I’m used to being on my own. It’s a future thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Nay, I dinnae. Explain it tae me.”

  “Feminism,” Al told him, mocking herself inwardly. She’d never been much of a feminist. Solitude had invariably been the result of circumstance rather than choice. “Women in the future like to be independent. Take care of ourselves.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal.

  “Wi’oot a man to hae a care for ye? To provide for ye?”

  No, she wasn’t a huge feminist but the idea that a woman in some way needed a man to take care of her did rankle a bit.

  “Oh come on, Keir, what could a man possibly do for me that I can’t do for myself?”

  This time when he lifted his brow so expressively, it took a second longer for his implication to sink it. When it did, she reddened once more but couldn’t help laughing.

  “I know for a fact I do that for myself better than any man could manage.”

  The shock on his face was well worth the frank statement. She wasn’t sure but she thought he might have blushed as well before he too smiled. Not with forthright humor but with a devilish grin.

  “Ye ken, that sounds like something of a challenge, lass.”

  Before she could respond, Keir pushed himself out of his chair, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Shall I prove that a man can do better?”

  He lifted her foot, holding her firmly by the ankle in one hand as his other slipped up her calf. Al jumped at the gentle caress, trying to kick him off before he even reached her knee. Slapping both hands down, she pinned his hand against the top of her thigh with a shaky laugh.

  “Wow, you really are a rake, aren’t you?”

  Stilling, he stared up at her. “Is that what ye think of me?”

  “Hey, I’m just going off what you’ve already s
aid.” She lifted her hands defensively.

  “I dinnae say…”

  “It was heavily implied. But it’s okay. I’m sure being a rake isn’t your worst quality.”

  “I’m nae rake!” he retorted, yanking his hand away and rocking back on his heels. “I cannae believe ye think so little of me. I’ve had no more lovers than any other man might.”

  “You must know a lot of rakes then.”

  “Lass,” he protested in a thickening brogue, “I am nae rake.”

  “Aren’t you?” she asked, perhaps a little wistfully as he climbed to his feet. The better to glower down at her properly, she thought. But what was wrong with being called a rake? All the books she’d read made them sound marvelous, after all. “I’ll bet you’re even pretty good at it.”

  Both brows shot up at that, then that wolfish gleam lit his eyes once more. “‘Struth, a rake can gi’ a woman pleasure beyond her wildest imaginings. She’ll carry the memory of their night together wi’ her for years tae come,” he said softly, taking her hand and tugging her to her feet. “I admit, I could do that for ye.”

  Of course he could. Damn him. She just didn’t want to be another number. But even more than that, Al realized she didn’t want to be disappointed if the experience didn’t measure up to her fantasies. With that in mind, she stepped away from him.

  “He can make them weep for him, make them wild,” he continued, closing the space again. “But he beds one woman wi’oot knowing her from the next.” Releasing a shaky breath, she took another step backward, but still he followed. “Mayhap he takes her wi’oot care for her feelings.” He closed the gap between them until she had to tilt her head all the way back to see him.

  His warm eyes moved over her face like a physical caress. His fingers flitted across her cheekbone, her temple, and around the shell of her ear without ever quite touching her, though it was enough to set her aquiver. She longed to lean into him. To have his strong arms close around her.

  And more. So much more. Brains and brawn. The whole package was undeniably attractive. She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to. But she had to.

 

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