by Lisa Plumley
‘Have a care before speaking on matters not of your concern, Lady Margaret,’ he warned.
His horse reacted to the tension in his body, moving skittishly beneath him. Deciding it was safer to speak to her from the ground, he jumped off and pulled the reins down, trying to calm the horse. She sat silently on hers, watching him. He glanced around to make certain no one could hear their words before speaking.
‘Do not call her whore, for she is not one,’ he warned. ‘Now, what is it you truly wish to know?’
For he sensed she had something to say on the matter and now was the perfect time to determine if she would abide by his intentions to keep Catriona. He knew he could convince her to stay, he just needed time.
‘You misunderstand me, Lord Aidan,’ she said, dismounting easily with no help. Her skills were admirable. Walking to his side, she placed her hand on his arm. His skin crawled beneath it.
‘I do not mind at all if you keep your wh— Woman after we marry.’
‘If we marry,’ he corrected.
‘I am not inclined to share in the...pleasures...of the marriage bed, so I would prefer you slake your lust for such things on her,’ she said directly. ‘I prefer a quiet life of contemplation and prayer.’
‘What of an heir?’ he asked.
‘I will do my duty as is expected of me, my lord,’ she ground out in the only fit of temper he’d seen her display, ‘but I will not like it. So, you can do what you must until I conceive,’ she said, shuddering in distaste or disgust, ‘then I pray you will find your way to her bed and stay out of mine.’
He almost laughed. Aloud. He had hoped to find a bride who would understand, but this was even better. A woman who did not want to explore the joys of the marriage bed. But, why not?
‘Do you come to this untouched, lady?’ he asked.
Her eyes narrowed and she threw her frozen gaze at him. The fury there at his question nearly singed his skin. ‘I would never dishonour myself and do otherwise.’
‘Then how do you know that you will be content in an empty marriage bed?’
‘My priest has counselled me that it is the way God would like marriages to be, filled with prayer and not lust. I would seek that in my marriage.’
Aidan kept his tongue behind his teeth now and kept all the comments he wanted to make silent. He nodded at her and offered her his foot to regain her seat.
‘I appreciate your candour, Lady Margaret,’ he said.
‘As I would appreciate your accommodation if our families agree to this marriage,’ she replied.
They rode back to the keep in silence and Aidan could not believe his luck in this matter of marriage. Should he tell his parents that he and Lady Margaret would suit and end the speculation over the other two women?
Could he marry such a woman as this? Cold-hearted, cold-natured, a woman who would place her devotion to the Almighty between them? What kind of sons would she bear him? His stomach soured at the thought of taking her to his bed. Considering his history of bedding any woman willing, it made him cringe at the irony of it.
After meeting the first woman, he was more certain that taking another woman as wife would just not be possible for him. He understood his duty, especially as first-born son of the chieftain and the earl, but he was growing to dislike it.
As he guided the lady to the keep, he realised that the one thing Cat feared the most—being thought of as a whore—would then be true, for she would be sharing the bed of a married man.
Fear struck him then, for he was being the veriest of fools. He loved Catriona and did not want to soil that love by sharing a bed with another, even if the other was his wedded wife. No matter if the other woman gave her permission or not. He wanted only Catriona and must find a way out of this madness before he lost her completely. But then, this was for naught if he could not convince Catriona to stay.
* * *
As the visit continued for several more days, Aidan only knew he needed to see Catriona. His father had forbidden him to do so while the Sinclairs were staying with them. So, he bided his time, strained his control and good nature to be a good and polite host and prayed they would tire of Lairig Dubh and leave.
After a fortnight, Lord Sinclair announced they would be leaving in another day to travel to visit other kin before returning home. Aidan could feel the end of this torture approaching.
Now the truly challenging work would begin—to find a way to keep Catriona at his side. He could not figure out whether the more difficult person to convince would be her or the Beast of the Highlands. For very few crossed his father and lived to tell of it.
Chapter Eighteen
Munro watched as Lord and Lady Sinclair and their daughter rode through the gates. Their visit had extended for just over a fortnight and he’d observed as Aidan did what he did best—charmed and cajoled and convinced. To anyone watching the scene that had played out over the last weeks, they would think Aidan infatuated with the woman who was but one possible bride for him.
But he could see through the falseness of the mask his former friend wore to the cold-hearted, conniving bastard beneath. No matter his protestations that he had not dishonoured his father’s wife, the way he took her to bed as soon as he could get her proved Munro’s suspicions.
He slammed his fist into the stone wall at his back.
He’d always known she would be trouble.
When his father returned with her, he’d been ten-and-four years and he yet mourned his mother’s death a six-month before. How his father could bring another woman into their house befuddled him...until his own growing body and young man’s urges made it all clear to him.
Catriona MacKenzie had the body of the Greek goddess he’d seen when Aidan showed him a book from the laird’s collection. When he spied Catriona wet from the water splashing while she washed clothes, with the fabric of her gown plastered over her curves, his body reacted for the first time as a man’s would and he understood why his father brought her home.
Over that first year, she had gained some weight and her figure filled out, creating soft, lush breasts, hips and legs that would welcome a man between them. And, to his disgrace, he had wanted to be that man.
And so, with every timid smile or soft word to him, he hardened in lust for his father’s wife. As the years passed, his desire for her grew until he could barely be in her presence without reacting. Whether his father recognised it or not, Munro knew not, but he found himself assigned away more and more. When he fell in with the laird’s son and his small group of friends, Munro travelled more and more.
But even the women drawn to Aidan MacLerie and those he took did not lessen the desire he had for Catriona.
Then Aidan began sniffing around her as he did so many others. Munro knew she would be weak and end up in his bed, just like the rest had. When the son of the powerful, wealthy, titled Earl of Douran wanted you in his bed, there was no way to refuse.
And worse, it would be his father who would wear the horns of a cuckold this time.
When his father had gone off on an assignment that would keep him away for some time, Munro kept a close watch on them both and his suspicions were confirmed by the rumours—Aidan had succeeded in his quest and taken Catriona.
Even now, his anger seared his blood and he wanted revenge on the man he once called friend.
For it was that friend who had caused Gowan’s death.
If Aidan had acted with honour, if he’d been a true friend, he would have walked away from her. But when he chased and then caught Catriona, Aidan had forced his hand and Munro had to summon his father home to deal with it. And that resulted in Gowan’s death.
He could forgive his former friend many things, but not that.
He moved along the battlement, watching below, and took a new position near the corner of the wall. S
tanding there, letting his anger brew, Munro could hear a couple of the other guards talking about Aidan.
‘He’s a lucky lad,’ one said.
‘A hot piece in his bed and a rich one in marriage. ’Tis not so bad a life,’ the second one said. A husky, lust-laden laugh followed. ‘I wouldna mind that one he has sharing my bed.’
‘Nor I,’ the first one agreed. The red haze of fury filled Munro’s vision.
‘But I hear it was not luck at all that got her there,’ the second one lowered his voice. ‘I heard he was the one who sent her husband away so he could have at her as he wanted.’
‘Shite!’
‘Oh, aye. And have at her he did, swiving her even while old Gowan lay dying in the woods.’
‘I would not mind swiving her,’ the first one admitted, his voice lowered now, too. ‘Not that he’ll give her up.’
‘Not that she’d have either of us after having him. ’Tis the way of things among their kind, lad,’ the second one advised. ‘He’ll need heirs and she canna give them to him. His father wants more than a whore as his son’s wife and he’ll make certain to get it.’
Munro was about to turn and crush them both against the walls when the commander called out to all of them.
* * *
He completed his duties that night in stunned silence—going through all the motions of guarding the walls even as his mind turned over and over the one thing the guards had said.
Aidan had been the one to send his father away.
All this time, Munro believed Aidan had simply taken advantage of his father’s absence to pursue Catriona. Now he knew the truth—Aidan was responsible for it all.
He’d sent Gowan away, pursued and seduced Catriona and then been there to take her in when his father died. Munro had reacted in anger, throwing her out of his house, just to give her a taste of how it would be without a man to protect her. And he’d always planned to be the one to do that—planning to offer her shelter once his anger cooled.
And that would put her in his control and then...
Well, then, he could have her for himself.
Instead, Aidan had been ready, probably expecting Munro’s reaction, and had given her a house and coin and made her his leman in fact before the whole village and clan.
He slept little that night, mulling over his choices in his mind. Munro only knew that it would not be right for Catriona not to know of Aidan’s machinations to rid her of a husband to get her in his bed. Especially since she’d fallen into his plan. And especially since she’d now be placed in the one situation she claimed she was not—any man’s whore.
But the sun’s weak light at dawn found him still awake and no closer to a solution than last night.
As he reported for duty this morning, he planned to simply confront Aidan and then he would make certain Cat knew the truth—Aidan was responsible for her downfall and her husband’s death.
* * *
Aidan joined his parents for the noon meal, as ordered by his father, and knew that there were more orders and directions coming his way. His father had spent last night’s supper extolling the virtues of Lady Margaret Sinclair to him. Tempted as he was to inform his father of the one virtue he liked about her—that she would let him keep Catriona without argument—he kept his tongue and words behind his teeth and let it all pass over him.
He looked for signs on his father’s face that would hint at the purpose of this call, but his father had perfected the blank stare decades before Aidan’s own birth. If his father wished to give nothing away, to friend or foe, he did not. So, the meal went on and his patience wore thin.
Aidan finished eating. His mother finished eating. His father savoured every mouthful of food or ale as though it was his last. It was at times such as this one when his father made everyone dance to his tune and Aidan knew the Beast of the Highlands relished it.
‘Connor,’ his mother said, ‘we have waited long enough. There is news, I know it, so just tell us what you plan to tell us. I suspect there are preparations to be made?’
He winked when his mother looked at him. They both knew his father’s methods, but she dared to question him freely. A habit years in the making and one that his father never put a stop to.
‘News of the Sinclairs’ arrival here early has spread and I’ve word from both of the other families that they will be here within days. So, Aidan, you will have the chance to renew your acquaintance with Alys MacKenzie and to meet Elizabeth Maxwell.’
He must have reacted at the MacKenzie name, for his father’s gaze narrowed at him then, realising why he might have raised an objection to one of that clan being considered for wife when she’d been named.
‘So, I expect you to spend time with each of them as you did Lady Margaret.’
‘I know my duty, Father,’ he said. ‘If you will excuse me now, I have things to see to.’ He began to stand when his father grabbed his arm.
‘Sit.’
Aidan took his seat once more, anger spilling into his blood.
‘You have duties to attend to here. Stay out of the village until the Maxwells and MacKenzies leave. I would not have them insulted by your attentions elsewhere.’
‘I have done whatever you’ve required of me these last weeks, Father. And I will do what is my duty when they arrive.’
‘Do not make me take action to ensure that.’
He sucked in a breath, even as his mother hissed.
‘Connor!’ she whispered. ‘That is not necessary.’
‘Is it, Aidan?’
His father could and would do whatever was necessary to ensure his intentions were carried out. He would take whatever actions he needed to take to protect his clan, and if that meant ridding his son of a leman who was in the way of his plans, he would. So, at this point, Aidan did the expected thing and acquiesced as he would have to until he could come up with his own plan.
‘Nay, Father. I understand what you expect of me.’ Seething inside from his inability to challenge his father in this matter, he stood then and pushed back against the unwelcome restraints on him. ‘Until the MacKenzies and Maxwells arrive, you know where to find me.’
He waited for his father to forbid him, but his mother’s whispered words in his ear must have had some effect. With the slightest of nods, his father relented. Aidan strode from the table through the hall, all the time trying to rein in his temper and forcing himself to remain calm. His father had formidable resources and Aidan needed a plan if he was to go against him.
But right now, right now he needed to see Catriona. He missed her, missed her sense of humour and her way of seeing things clearly even when he wanted to ignore the reality of what they faced. Mostly, he just needed her assurance that she would not leave him.
* * *
‘So, what do you think?’ Catriona asked Muireall.
Days had passed since she’d spoken to Ciara. She avoided the woman now, afraid that what she’d suspected was true. Days during which Aidan remained at the keep or elsewhere doing his father’s bidding and trying to decide which woman would be his bride. Her stomach quaked at that thought and threatened to erupt again.
As it did when she smelled any meat cooking. Or when she smelled certain herbs and flowers. Or when she woke in the morning.
At other times, she wondered if she was losing her mind, for she had no ill signs. Then an aroma would waft past her and it would begin. The vomiting, the dizziness, sometimes she even began to lose consciousness.
Two weeks of suffering had led her to do the one thing she did not wish to do—discuss this with Muireall. But, who else could she trust? Ciara’s first loyalty was to the laird, so she knew it was but a matter of time before she shared this news.
‘And your courses?’ Muireall asked. ‘Have they come at all these last years?’
‘Aye, but not often and never in any kind of rhythm.’
The healer told her she could never carry and Cat had believed the woman. And she never worried over getting pregnant because she could not. Over the years with Gowan, it became nothing to think on because he’d left her bed very early in their marriage. So, when Aidan took her to bed, she never considered the possibility.
‘Since Aidan began visiting you?’
‘Not once.’ The words echoed into the silence that gathered around them.
Now, she could think of nothing else.
‘Here,’ Muireall said, handing her a mug and waiting for her to sip the watered ale. It was about the only thing that did not make her sick. ‘Sit.’ It mattered not to her friend that they were not in Muireall’s house, for she took command when she felt the need. Like now.
Catriona did as she was told, but then she burst into tears. Tears she could not stop or explain. Those came often these last weeks. Muireall’s arm draped on her shoulders and her friend gathered her close.
‘Hush now, Cat,’ she whispered. ‘All will be well.’
‘What will Aidan say?’ Cat said.
Never thinking she would ever bear a man’s child, she wondered if Aidan would think she’d lied to trap him into this situation. Would he believe her? Would he want to acknowledge the child?
‘Do you still plan to leave Lairig Dubh? Or will you tell him?’
Cat sighed and sat back. Ciara had asked the same question of her, but that was before she knew the truth. After the shock of it, came the thoughts about a future together that could not be. He would marry elsewhere and, even if his child was seen to, it guaranteed no place for her. And in her heart, she knew she could not stand by and watch him marry another.
‘Leaving would be the simplest thing,’ she admitted. ‘But I think he deserves to know. I ask him for nothing more than that.’
‘He will never let you leave if he knows,’ Muireall said. ‘You know that, do you not?’
‘He asked me to stay as his leman and to move with him to Ord Dubh.’ She’d not shared that with her friend—or with anyone—since he’d told her. ‘He says married or not, he wants me by his side.’