by Lynsay Sands
Suddenly aware that his fingers still curled in the girl’s fair hair, Keeran withdrew his hand and straightened. “We should put her to bed,” he growled in a soft voice. “She cannot sleep here all night.”
“I’ll wake her and—”
“No,” he said sharply when she started forward. “There is no need to wake her. I shall carry her abovestairs.”
“But—”
“You will have to light the way,” Keeran interrupted. He really didn’t need her to light the path for him. As with all nocturnal beasts,
Keeran’s eyesight was exceptional in the dark. But, as he had hoped, his suggestion had soothed the old woman, assuring her that he expected her to accompany him, as was proper.
After a brief hesitation, Mrs. MacBain nodded reluctantly and picked up a candle from the table beside the door.
Satisfied that he would get his way, Keeran bent and gently scooped Emily into his arms. She was a soft and light bundle, her breath a warm caress against his neck as she sighed sleepily and cuddled against him. Keeran inhaled as he straightened, his chest squeezing at the scent of her. She smelt of sunlight and flowers, she smelt of life, and he felt a yearning stir within him. He wanted to drink of that life, to bathe in it and perhaps redeem the soul he was sure he’d lost.
Mrs. MacBain cleared her throat. Reminded of her presence, he turned toward where she waited by the door and carried Emily forward.
“I asked her if she was married,” Mrs. MacBain said as she led him out of the library and along the hall toward the stairs to the bedrooms.
To Keeran, that comment came out of the blue. The question had never occurred to him. Now that she had brought it up, however, he suddenly felt himself tense in anticipation of the answer. A murmur of protest from the girl in his arms made Keeran realize that his hold had tightened possessively around her. He forced his muscles to ease as he asked, “Is she?”
“Nay.”
This news was something of a relief to Keeran, though he couldn’t say why. What matter was it to him whether Emily was married or not? He had just convinced himself of this when Mrs. MacBain added, “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” he echoed, this time unable to deny the fact that this news had an effect on him. He didn’t at all like the possibility that she might belong to another.
“Aye,” Mrs. MacBain answered. “She was on her way to marry the earl of Sinclair when the ship ran into the storm. It was her uncle’s wish.”
Keeran glanced down at the woman in his arms. The earl of Sinclair? His very skin crawled at the idea of that elderly degenerate touching this fresh young woman. He knew the man, had known him since the fellow’s birth. The Sinclair had been a cruel, heartless child and had grown into no better of a man. The old bastard had already beaten several wives to death, yet persisted in finding new victims. Keeran didn’t at all like the idea of the fragile young woman he carried being the next victim on The Sinclair’s list.
“She doesn’t wish to,” Mrs. MacBain went on as she gripped a handful of the plain cloth of her long skirt and lifted it out of the way so that she could lead the way up the stairs. “And now that her uncle is gone, there is no one to make her. But she fears she may be forced into it does the earl learn she still lives. She needs somewhere to stay for a bit and sort the matter out.”
Keeran was struggling with this news when she added, “I hope ye don’t mind, my laird, but I told her she might rest here a bit till she sorted the matter out.”
Keeran heard the trepidation in her words and knew she was concerned that he would be upset by her invitation for Emily to stay. Several hours earlier he might have been. He certainly hadn’t been pleased with the chit in his arms when his rest had been disturbed by the work she had set into motion in his home. Now, however, holding her warm body close in his arms, he began to wonder why he had been so upset. So, the castle would be a pleasant home for a bit. He should enjoy it while he could, rather than bemoan that it would end soon enough. Besides, he didn’t wish to see the girl married to The Sinclair. He would rather kill the man first.
“Ye did say some time ago that we were to think of the castle as our home, my laird,” Mrs. MacBain hurried on. “And ... well... if this were my home, I would allow her to stay, so I—”
“I am no longer Laird, ” Keeran reminded her grimly as he carried Emily up the stairs behind the housekeeper’s swaying skirts. It was the only comment he intended to make on the woman’s action.
Emily was dreaming of being encased in strong, hard arms that made her feel as safe as a babe. It was one of those rare dreams when you actually knew you weren’t awake. In her dream, she was reading in the library when her host returned. She set the book aside and smiled a polite greeting. Keeran MacKay smiled back, a soft smile, his eyes warm as they took in the white gown she wore. Before she could speak, he had crossed the room and scooped her into his arms to hold her close against his strong chest.
“My lord! I mean, sir,” she corrected herself on a gasp. “This isn’t proper.”
“Do not berate me, my little beauty. I cannot help myself. Your loveliness, your wit, the way you have set my home to rights. All of it has set my heart aflame. You are the perfect woman for me, my little dove. I want to marry you, cherish you, and keep you safe from the arms of the lascivious earl of Sinclair.”
“Oh, my lord,” Emily breathed, her heart full to bursting at his passionate proclamation.
“I am no longer Laird.”
Emily blinked her eyes open and stared at the face mere inches from her own. Keeran MacKay. He was holding her in his arms. Only the warm expression was missing. His face was cold and hard. He could have been a marble bust. At least, he could have been were he presently as pale as he had been the first two times she had met him. At the moment, he was flush with color. Very flush, really. She hoped it wasn’t from carrying her. Carrying her?
Emily realized they weren’t in the library. Keeran was carrying her, not just holding her in his arms, but actually carrying her abovestairs. This wasn’t part of her dream. Alarm suddenly coursing through her, she glanced a little wildly about to see that they were trailing Mrs. MacBain up the stairs. She wasn’t dreaming anymore.
Chapter Three
“No.”
Emily’s gaze shot to Keeran’s face. His expression was stern and his arms tightened around her as he shook his head. He must have guessed by the way she had tensed that she was about to struggle and request to be set down.
Realizing the peril she would put them both in by struggling now, Emily forced herself to remain quiescent in his arms. Still, she was terribly uncomfortable there. It was one thing to dream that he had swept her into his arms and quite another to actually be in them. The reality was that after years of having proper behavior drummed into her head, Emily was terribly uncomfortable allowing a virtual stranger to carry her about. In truth, she was even embarrassed by her dream now that she was awake. Why on earth would her sleeping mind think she would welcome the attentions of her host? The answer to that was simple enough. Emily knew herself well. She was aware that she’d been terribly lonely every moment since the death of her parents. She had yearned and yearned for years for someone to love her.
At first, Emily had worked very hard to gain that love from her uncle. She had behaved herself at all times and worked hard at her studies, knowing that her nanny and tutor would inform him. She had hoped that he would be pleased, but if he was, he had never let her know. He had never even let her know that he realized she was alive. John Collins, her father’s brother, had dumped her at her deceased parents’ country estate, never to bother with her again until her twentieth birthday. That’s when he had sent for her to be brought to London to attend her engagement party. To say that the news of her engagement had come as something of a surprise was an understatement. And it hadn’t been a pleasant one. The earl of Sinclair didn’t exactly live up to Emily’s childhood dreams of the perfect husband. In truth, he was worse than her wildest nightmares
. She could only be grateful that the negotiations had apparently taken two years, from her eighteenth birthday till her twentieth. It was the earl of Sinclair who had told her that. Licking his lips as he tried to peer down the neckline of her gown, he’d said her uncle was a greedy man who had dragged the marriage negotiations out over two years in an effort to keep as much of her inheritance as he could. The Sinclair had said the words in such a way that his admiration was obvious.
“Here we are, sir.”
Mrs. MacBain’s voice intruded on Emily’s thoughts, and she glanced to that kindly older lady to see that they had reached the top of the stairs and traversed the hall while she had been lost in thought. They now stood outside the door to the guest room she’d been using and Mrs. MacBain was holding the door open. The older woman’s eyebrows rose as they landed on Emily. “Oh. Ye’re awake.”
“Yes.” Emily flushed, once again embarrassed to be in her host’s arms. But when she began to shift in his arms, he merely tightened his hold a tad and strode forward, carrying her into her room and directly to the table where Mrs. MacBain had served her breakfast that first morning. He bent to deposit her in a chair at the table, then straightened and turned to his housekeeper.
“Hot cocoa.”
Mrs. MacBain blinked in confusion. “Hot cocoa?”
“I would imagine a cup of warmed cocoa would help our guest get back to sleep,” he pointed out. “Make it two cups please, Mrs. MacBain.”
“Two cups?”
Emily couldn’t help but notice the suspicion that crossed the older woman’s face and the way she hesitated. She seemed torn between obeying her employer and remaining in the room where she no doubt felt she was needed to maintain the propriety of the situation. Men simply weren’t supposed to be alone in a lady’s room. It wasn’t done. Still, Emily would be glad of the chance to speak to her host and finally thank him for saving her life and offering her shelter. Also, she had no wish to see the woman annoy her employer in an effort to protect Emily, an effort that surely wasn’t needed. Keeran MacKay didn’t appear the sort to attack her at the first opportunity, else he would have done so already. She had been in his home for two nights now without coming to harm.
Offering a reassuring smile to the housekeeper, she patted her hand and said, “We shall leave the door open, Mrs. MacBain.”
The housekeeper glanced toward Emily uncertainly, then nodded and left the room. The moment her footsteps faded down the hall, Keeran MacKay finally took a seat and turned his attention to her.
His gaze seemed almost a physical touch as it slid over her features. Emily found herself unable to meet it, and glanced around the room before recalling that she wished to thank him. “I am sorry I fell asleep. I did try to stay awake. I wanted to speak to you, to thank you for saving me.”
“You are most welcome.” He looked terribly uncomfortable with her gratitude, so Emily let that subject drop and moved on.
“I also wished to apologize for what I said yesterday. Mrs. MacBain explained that it isn’t your fault that—”
“Apology accepted,” he interrupted, apparently equally uncomfortable with her regret.
With that, Emily didn’t really know what else to say. Silence descended upon them, enclosing them in an oddly intimate quiet that the lack of light in the room only seemed to increase.
Emily glanced toward the candle Mrs. MacBain had set on the table by the door. It and the light spilling in from the hall were the only illumination to be had, leaving most of the room in darkness. Standing abruptly, she moved to collect the candle and started lighting several of the other candles spread around the room as she tried to think of something to talk about. In the end, however, it was he who broke the silence.
“Mrs. MacBain informs me you were to marry The Sinclair,” Keeran said abruptly.
Emily’s steps slowed, a grimace crossing her face. “Yes. My uncle arranged it.”
“But your uncle is dead.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Will you be able to bow out of the wedding without fear of scandal?”
A little sigh slid from Emily’s lips as she lit the last candle. Then she retraced her steps to the table and sank back into the seat he had set her in earlier, letting her shoulders drop dejectedly. “I have pondered the matter and fear I may not.”
That realization was an unpleasant one that she had been trying to ignore. Emily had been taught well. A young woman alone in the world could not hope to avoid scandal if she broke off an engagement that had been arranged for her and agreed to. It seemed her choices were between marriage to the earl of Sinclair or ruin. Neither event seemed acceptable to her. But she could see no other option open to her.
Emily glanced toward her host, surprised to see displeasure on his face. She had to wonder if he too disagreed with marriage between the classes. That seemed the only reason to her that he might be dismayed at her possible nuptials. Not wishing to think about the future she was struggling desperately to find an alternative to, Emily shifted the subject to the changes she had in mind for his castle. Her host seemed rather annoyed and reticent on the subject at first, but soon ventured his opinions and desires on what should be done. When that conversation expired, they moved on to another and another.
Keeran MacKay had a keen mind and a sharp wit. Emily enjoyed talking to him So much so that once or twice the thought crossed her mind that she wished it were him she was supposed to marry, rather than the earl of Sinclair. Were she to marry a young, handsome, and kindly man like Keeran MacKay, rather than the unpleasant earl, she would have gone to her betrothed willingly and without reservation. And her future wouldn’t have seemed so bleak.
Emily wasn’t sure what made her glance toward the door. A sound perhaps, or simply movement spotted out of the corner of her eye?
Turning her head, she spotted Mrs. MacBain standing in the doorway and she smiled at her in greeting, then tilted her head to peer at her curiously. The housekeeper appeared to be frozen to the spot, her expression stunned as she stared at her employer. Emily turned to glance at Keeran, bewildered to find that he was merely smiling softly. There should be nothing surprising in that. He had been laughing at a jest Emily had told him, when Mrs. MacBain had drawn her attention. It had taken a good deal of effort to get that laugh out of the man, but Emily had been determined to bring a smile to his lips. The sadness she had sensed in him from the first made her own heart ache somewhat and she had wanted to lessen it for him, if only for a moment or two.
“Well.” Mrs. MacBain seemed to snap out of her amazement and continued forward with the tray bearing two cups of hot cocoa. She glanced around the chamber as she walked and scowled at the mess it remained. The woman had wanted to have some of the workers clean this room as well today, but Emily had argued against it. She would rather see the main floor set to rights first. She’d started this project in an effort to make things nice for her host as a thank you, not to make herself more comfortable. Besides, she only slept here; most of her waking time was spent below, so she also benefitted more from concentrating on that part first. The guest room could be seen to afterward, though she might not be here to witness it by then.
“Tis fine,” she said now to the housekeeper and received an affectionate, if exasperated, look for her efforts.
“Tis not fine, but ye’re a stubborn lass, so I’ll let it go,” the woman said.
Emily saw the curiosity cross Keeran’s face, but he didn’t comment or ask what they were speaking of; he simply sat quietly as his housekeeper set the cups of hot cocoa down. The woman hesitated then and Emily knew she was considering what she should do next. Propriety required that she stay, but it was obvious from Keeran’s expression that he would order her to go if she tried. Besides, Mrs. MacBain had worked just as hard as Emily today. The woman must be as tired as she was.
Reaching out, Emily patted the hand holding the empty tray and smiled at her reassuringly. “The door is open, and we know you are nearby. We will be fine.”
What she really meant was that she would be fine. Mrs. MacBain nodded solemnly. “Aye. O‘ course ye will. And no doubt ye’re so tired that ye’ll drop right off to sleep once yer done with yer cocoa.” The last was said with a speaking glance toward her employer.
Emily bit her lip to keep back her amusement at his disgruntled reaction to it. It was obvious he was unused to his employee speaking to him in such a way.
“She is only concerned about propriety,” Emily said soothingly once the woman had left the room.
Keeran made a face, but didn’t comment. Instead, he stood and moved toward the door.
Afraid he was about to close it after she had promised the older woman that it would remain open, Emily was on her feet at once and hurrying after him.
“Oh, but I said we would leave it open,” she protested, catching at his hand to stop him.
“I was only going to be sure she wasn’t lurking in the hallway outside the room,” he assured her and continued forward, drawing her along with him.
“She was tired. I think she has probably gone to bed,” Emily commented as they both peered out to find the hall empty. When Keeran didn’t comment, she turned to glance at him and found him staring down at their still-entwined hands. She flushed deeply and would have released him, but he closed his fingers over her own, holding her.
“So warm.”
Those almost reverent words raised curiosity in Emily, but she pushed it aside as she realized that, indeed, compared to him she was a raging furnace. The hand holding her own was cool in comparison. Not unpleasantly so, rather like a nice breeze on sun-baked skin, but it was surely a sign that the man had just returned from outdoors and had caught a chill on his journey back from wherever he had dined this night.