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

by Angeline Fortin

  He lifted his head, brightening. “Aye. Rosebraugh has an excellent steward. ‘Tis true.”

  “There you go.” She beamed, happy to have been able to offer some actual consolation. Squeezing his knees, she leaned away to push herself up, but he put his hands on top of hers. Staying her.

  “Thank ye, lass. I dinnae ken how I would hae borne these last days wi’oot yer company.” Sincerity rang in every word. “Ye’ve been a bright light in an otherwise dark time of my life.”

  He leaned forward, his lips skimming lightly across her cheek until they rested on her temple.

  “You’re welcome.”

  With a heavy sigh, he released her and returned to the papers strewn across the desk. “Such a realization makes writing these all the more difficult.”

  “What are they?”

  “Letters relaying the details of my cousin’s death.”

  She winced and picked up one of the pages but after taking a moment to decipher his looping hand, saw that it spoke of Hugh’s death in Paris. Not on the battlefield of Culloden. She asked him about it.

  He shrugged. “Only a scant handful of men were aware of his return tae Scotland. Most of them died along wi’ him. The others willnae argue a fine point such as this.”

  “But why?”

  “Hugh ne’er publicly declared his politics,” he explained. “Ne’er took a side. In truth, politics were of little interest to him. If I can keep his presence on the Jacobite field a secret, the name of the Duke of Ross willnae e’er be associated them.”

  She understood what he was getting at. “And the other side won’t see him as a traitor or whatever.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And you? How will they see you?”

  “I’m nae an overly political or religious man.”

  “Don’t let Artair hear you say that.”

  His lips quirked. “I dinnae believe any king should rule merely because of how he expresses his faith in God,” he told her. “This whole thing has become little more than a religious war.”

  “Really? That’s not how I think history remembers it,” she said with a frown.

  “Och, it dinnae matter.” Keir whisked the subject away with a flick of his fingers. “Catholic versus Protestant. Neither of our choices for king has overly impressed me. Like Hugh, I was smart enough tae ne’er voice an opinion on the matter.”

  “So his name will remain unsullied?”

  “Aye. His name. And now mine.” He dropped back in his chair. Al knew he was shaken more than he let on.

  “Can I help?” she offered, trying to find a way to ease his burden. “I don’t have the best handwriting, but I’ll give it a shot if you want.”

  “Gladly, lass.”

  Retrieving another pen from the drawer, he spent a few minutes showing her how to use it and let the ink draw up inside of it. Her blotchy, ruinous attempts restored his ususal congenial humor.

  “My grandma had one of these.” She laughed. “Now I know why she kept it in a box and never used it.”

  “Ye mentioned her last night,” he said, resuming his seat and taking up his pen. “Yer grandmother and her farm. Is she still alive?”

  Constantly with the personal questions! But he’d had a bad morning and she didn’t mind talking about her grandmother. So, Al obliged him. Sort of.

  “You know, she hasn’t even been born yet, right?”

  “Ah, the time paradox ye spoke of.” He grinned back and tapped the base of his pen to his temple.

  “To answer your question, no. She died when I was sixteen,” she told him. “I loved her dearly. Loved being with her away… away from everything else. She encouraged me to read when—well, she always encouraged me. When I was a kid, I loved to go visit her. Her farm was my happy place.”

  “What did she raise?”

  “Oh, it hadn’t been a working farm since my grandfather was a little boy,” she corrected, concentrating more on her writing and trying to make it look as nice as his. Handwriting was a lost art. “But she had a bunch of cats living under the deck and an old horse out back.”

  “Where was this farm? In your colonies?”

  Al rolled her eyes dramatically. “The United States. That’s what it will be called once they gain their independence from England in oh, about thirty more years. No more king.”

  He nodded in approval. “More power tae them.”

  He asked her what had prompted their revolution and happy with the change of subject, she told him.

  Though they were interrupted twice by the absentminded Archie who ended up with nothing to say either time, the afternoon passed quickly.

  Chapter 20

  “What is that?” Al swallowed the bit of toast she’d been munching on for her breakfast late the next morning. Peigi was laying out a heavy-looking black dress for her to wear. Nothing like the light-weight linen dresses she had been wearing over the last couple days. It looked wholly uncomfortable… and hot.

  “Master Keir… I mean, His Grace, asks that ye wear it, miss. A surprise, he said.”

  Yes, he was full of those.

  Peigi’s eyes were wide with anticipation. “Ye’ll look lovely in it, I think. Yer hair will shine against the black.”

  “I’m sure one of the normal dresses will be fine no matter what we do, won’t they? It’s been awfully warm lately.” The past couple days had been warm for the end of April. She’d been hot even in the lighter dresses simply because of the corset and all the other layers that accompanied them. She’d die of heat-stroke in this one.

  “He did ask that ye wear it, miss,” Peigi urged once more.

  “Don’t worry, Peigi,” Al assured her. “I won’t let him blame you, but there’s no way I’m putting that one on today. I want the thinnest one we’ve got, with the shortest sleeves and the fewest layers.”

  The maid giggled as she listed off her criteria.

  “And I’d like my hair up and off my neck today, too.”

  She generally wore her long hair up in a ponytail or messy bun. While there were ribbons aplenty, they tended to slide right off her silky hair when she tried to tie it back or braid it. There was nothing else for her to use but combs or the stiff wooden bobby pins available now. Frustrated, she’d given it up after just a single attempt to do it herself.

  “If you don’t mind helping me again, that is?”

  “Nay, miss. I’m happy tae help ye wi’ it e’ery day. I told ye, ‘tis my job tae assist ye.”

  Wincing at the reminder, Al just nodded. She’d never had help taking care of herself, not even from her mother, since she was five. It was more difficult than she thought, accepting it now. “Thank you.”

  Forsaking even the corset and drawers she was slowly becoming accustomed to given how warm it already was, Al opted in favor of her own bra and panties. Covering them in a linen shift, she allowed Peigi to help her dress in a light linen dress of periwinkle blue with a simple ivory underskirt and only one petticoat. Though she knew her best hope of a life here without regrets meant embracing all it entailed, there were just some things the future did better. Undergarments was one of those things. The assumption that she could dress herself was another, but the maid was just too earnest and kind to deny.

  After Peigi announced her perfectly respectable, Al dropped down on the vanity bench and let Peigi brush out her hair. Trying not to squirm impatiently as she braided and twisted and pinned the long locks until they were all up and off her neck as promised.

  “Ye will tell the master I did insist upon the black?”

  “I will,” Al said, patting the girl’s hand assuredly. “He won’t blame anyone but me, I promise.”

  Peigi relaxed, her usual smile returning to grace her round face. Bringing over a wide-brimmed but flat straw hat, she placed it at a flattering angle over Al’s hair-do and pinned it securely. “I’m tae tell ye, also, Ma—His Grace requests that ye join him in the front hall as soon as ye’re ready.”

  “The front hall?”
/>   The maid beamed at her. “Aye, miss.”

  “We’re going out?”

  * * *

  “Ye’re nae dressed tae go oot,” Keir said with a frown when she reached the front hall.

  In contrast to the past several days when he wore little more than a simple linen shirt and a kilt, later adding a jacket and waistcoat for meals, Keir was once again dressed much as he’d been that first day she’d met him in the library. This time in a jacket of navy blue with a striped waistcoat beneath it. He wore a neckcloth tied in an intricate knot at the base of his throat and his thick black hair was once more bound at his nape. The only exception was instead of wearing stockings and shoes, he wore his shiny black knee boots and carried a tricorn hat tucked beneath his arm.

  He did indeed appear ready to go out.

  “I couldn’t wear that heavy thing,” she said. “It’s just too hot outside and even in here for that. Please don’t blame Peigi. She tried.”

  “That thing was a riding habit. I planned on us traveling today,” he told her.

  “Traveling on horseback?” she asked, lifting her brows in surprise.

  He nodded crisply to one of the younger footman hovering nearby and spoke to him in rapid Gaelic. He ran off eagerly to do his master’s bidding.

  “Let me guess,” he said after the man was gone. “Ye dinnae ride.”

  “I’ve never been on a horse in my life.”

  “Never?” he asked, offering his arm and leading her outside while Archie held the door open for them. The sun was already beating down on them, bouncing off the stone of the castle for enhanced solar effect.

  He might not have approved of her choice of dresses, but she was glad for the lighter gown. Though she didn’t think he really minded much. He’d watched her entire descent of the stairs with hungry, hooded eyes. Though she’d never been much of a lace gal and sometimes felt silly in the overly decorative dresses Peigi plied her with, the way he watched her when she was dressed up made her feel beautiful. And wanted.

  “Nae even the one on yer grandmother’s farm?”

  “What? Oh, no. Especially not that one.”

  Awaiting them were two saddled horses. One, the evil thing of Keir’s who she was so well-acquainted with. The other, dainty and brown, impatiently shaking out its long blondish mane.

  “I picked her just for ye,” he said. “She’s mild of temper, I promise ye. Ye dinnae want tae gi’ it a try?”

  “I don’t know.” Al tweaked at her earlobe and gnawed on her lip. She looked fairly nice. But… “Maybe. Someday.”

  With a low chuckle, he stroked his horse’s head, scratching it affectionately behind the ears. “How do ye travel then?”

  “You don’t really want me to go there, do you?”

  But he did, she could see it. As usual, his curiosity was limitless, his desire to learn everything about her time attractive in its own right.

  “Well, I can give you the long or short version. How long do we have?”

  As she spoke, a black carriage pulled by four bay horses came around the corner of the castle and stopped in front of them. A groom rushed forward to lead the two saddled mounts away.

  Keir opened the door and turned back to her with a broad grin. “It seems we’ll hae all day.”

  “Great,” she drawled unenthusiastically, grimacing as she squinted up into the closed interior.

  Archie shuffled forward to help her climb into the creaking contraption. She thanked him but he just clucked his tongue and shut the door on her.

  Keir reopened it and grinned up at her. “Do ye suppose he thought I wisnae going wi’ ye?”

  “Going where exactly?”

  “’Tis a surprise.”

  “You and your surprises. I think you’re doing this just to have a captive audience,” she grumbled.

  “We might hae had a enjoyable day on horseback.”

  “Don’t be a pain in my ass.”

  His laughter echoed off the carriage walls as he climbed in and sat opposite her, tossing his hat to the side. “Grieg,” he called out the window at the footman as he returned. “Dinnae forget tae hae Peigi be on her way after us wi’in the hour.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Why that sneaky bitch,” she sighed.

  “Bitch? Och, lass, if Peigi has been anything other than polite wi’ ye, I’ll hae her replaced immediately.”

  “No! No, it’s just that she knew about this all along. She should have said something.”

  “But I told her nae tae,” he said. “I wanted it tae be a…”

  “A surprise. I know.” She glanced out the small window as the carriage jerked into motion. The sun was already high in the sky. Those little windows didn’t look like they’d provide any sort of real air flow. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t like surprises?”

  “’Tis only fair, wee lassie, that I hae a share of them for ye when ye provide me wi’ so many every day.”

  “I can’t wait to tell you about the space shuttle,” she murmured under her breath. “There’s a surprise for you.”

  “So, tell me aboot yer modes of travel,” he said, settling in his seat and lifting one leg so that his ankle rested comfortably on his knee.

  “I should deny you the pleasure until you tell me where we’re going.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Do as ye will, lass. We can pass the hours instead wi’ me showing ye another way for a man and his lady tae while away the time in a closed carriage such as this.”

  She colored at the innuendo. “I think you’d die from shock if I took you up on that.”

  “From pleasure, lass. From pure pleasure. I can easily imagine how the day might pass.” He raked his warm gaze down her body. A shot of pure desire sent shivers down the same path. His eyes traveled up once more, and when he spoke, his voice had lowered in timber. “‘Twould be a most agreeable time indeed. Would ye like me tae elaborate?”

  Her eyes widened. She’d hadn’t thought he would continue to pursue this. No, she imagined he would tempt and retreat just as he had been doing for the past few days. A little verbal allusion here, a stray touch or caress there. But that was it.

  Could he tell she was tired of denying the attraction between them? That she wanted so much more?

  No matter the consequences?

  “I’d hae tae move o’er there wi’ ye, of course,” he went on quietly as if she’d provided some sort of affirmation. “Tae be next tae ye, tae feel the press of yer body alongside mine.

  “Then…” His eyes took her in her from top to bottom once more, full of appreciation, desire. Her breathing became shallow, as if she might not hear him if she took too deep a breath. “I’d caress yer cheek and turn yer face up tae time. I remember the feel of yer lips just beneath mine that night on the turret. Just a hairsbreadth away. I wanted tae kiss ye then. More than anything.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Nay, I wanted ye tae want it as much as I.”

  “I did,” she confessed.

  “Yet ye stepped away,” he reminded her, his eyes held hers.

  “Once,” she said defensively. “You stopped it several times.”

  He shifted, one hand coming to rest casually on his leg. His fingers tapped out a rhythm, then repeated it, before spreading out over his thigh.

  “Nay, lass. I merely waited for ye tae begin.”

  Finally she understood. She considered throwing herself at him now, but he leaned back and continued.

  “But I digress, where was I? Aye, I was aboot tae kiss ye. I’ve imagined the ways it might begin. Imagined even more aboot how it might end. ‘Struth, I find it hard tae believe I’ve nae done so yet. But if I were tae come o’er there now, if we were tae nae speak of travel and whatnot, I would take the kiss I’ve waited for. Aye, take it. I would wait for ye nae longer, lass. I would take yer lips and make them mine. I imagine the feel of them, soft beneath mine. The taste of them. Sweet and heady. I’d explore them wi’ my tongue. My teeth. But ‘twould nae
be all my pleasure, lass. Ye’d hae the taste of mine as well upon yer sweet lips. Kisses taken but given. I want tae feel yer tongue against mine. Kiss ye again and again until ye’re moaning yer pleasure, begging for more.”

  Just the words slowly rolling off his tongue in that deep Scottish brogue were enough to draw the moan from her. Al bit it back, her head swimming dizzily. She’d never heard anything so sexy, been talked to so bluntly.

  He shifted restlessly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees until he was but a foot away. His hands inches from hers. His gravelly voice grew softer.

  “Whilst I was kissing ye, I’d make the most of yer distraction and touch ye as I long tae. The sweet curve of yer neck, yer shoulder. Yer dress might slip off under my fingers so I might touch more of ye. Here.” He gestured to a spot on his chest. Across and down the center. “Here. I’d ken at last the silkiness of yer flesh. Further down, I might slip my hand tae cup yer sweet breast. Feel its bonny weight in my palm. Or perhaps I’d forgo that pleasure for now in favor of what lies below yer skirts. I’d slip my hand up yer skirts once more. Ye’ve fine legs, lass. Long and strong. I’d love tae hae them wrapped around me one day. I want tae be between them.”

  A shudder shook her from head to toe at his confession. Her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Still, he hadn’t even touched her! What could he do to her if he did?

  Whether it was because of him or the heat of the day, a light sheen of perspiration had broken out all over her body. Prickling at her skin. Beading between her breasts. She was pulsing with need and want, intensifying between her thighs.

  Unpinning her hat, she fanned her face with the wide brim, hoping for some relief.

  “‘Tis nae a verra big carriage though. I couldnae lay ye down and hae my way wi’ ye as I might like,” he carried on, but his breath was heavy now as well. His eyes as dark as a stormy night and just as tumultuous. “Mayhap I could lift yer skirts away and pull ye o’er me so ye could ride me. Mayhap I’d save that for another day and merely drop down into this wee space between us and discover what’s beneath them more intimately.”