She’d share the noon meal with her father and their guests and then ensure she was always in another’s company.
Her three suitors and her father all stood as she approached the laird’s table.
‘I’m pleased you’ve come to join us for the noon meal, Mairi,’ her father said with a smile.
‘Thank you, Father.’ She smiled at each of them and nodded her thanks to Ranald, as he rose from his seat beside her father and moved to the far seat beside Ewan, on her father’s other side. Her protector sat in his place at the end of the trestle and a huge sense of relief swamped her. Not because her personal guard took his usual place, but because now she wasn’t alone there would be numerous people and things to distract her and keep her uncertainties at bay.
With a pointed look at her father that he was unaware of, Mairi silently promised she’d concentrate on her suitors, starting now, and choose her husband wisely.
Promise given, she looked at the man occupying the seat to her father’s right. Goblet in one hand, dark-haired Ewan spoke on a serious matter, if the stern expression clouding his handsome features was any indication. While he was pleasing to look upon and there was a sense of strength about him, there was also a sense of insecurity and loneliness. Almost as if he had to fight for attention, but dared not share any achievements with another for fear of lessening his own success. Had he not been gifted by praise from his father for feats accomplished? Or was it that he’d been given mountains of praise for every accomplishment both large and small and wanted it, craved it, all the time?
Before she began her silent assessment of her other two suitors, at this time Mairi’s heart and mind had already placed Ewan in last place as the man she chose to wed.
Her gaze shifted to the man who’d moved seats for her. Ranald Barclay was also pleasing to look upon, but the sight of his fair countenance inspired calm rather than a sense of excitement. He was attentive and patient and a soothing note coloured the tone of his voice. Ranald would prove a great ally in times of trouble and confusion, much like her father. But was she best to choose a man who offered comfort and steadiness for her clan’s sake alone, or was she selfish in her desire to choose a husband who could take care of Gordon’s people and who exuded a hint of danger that spurred her heart to greater speed?
Ranald’s face broke into a smile and a burst of laughter from the man on her left almost shook the mortar dust from the walls.
Angus Hay had a way of making everyone smile with his humour and friendly banter. He wasn’t a man who feared laughing at himself, a quality Mairi found endearing. Like the others, he was pleasing to look at, his dark brown hair, liberally streaked with grey, gave him a mature look that his always-smiling amber eyes and curved lips counteracted by making him appear younger. Would his great sense of mirth, fishing skills and self-mockery be enough to ensure Clan Gordon’s future? She really did not know.
Did her father prefer one man over the others? She took in his smiling face and again her heart squeezed tight. Watching him with all three suitors, he seemed to get on well with them all. If he had a preference, would he tell her if she asked or would he leave the decision solely in her hands?
Which of the three men did Duff prefer? The query slipped into her mind much like the slippery fish had slipped from her hands two days ago on the loch. She’d come close to asking him his opinion by the burn earlier today. Her heartbeat quickened at the memory. Again she told herself his opinion didn’t matter. But still she found herself looking at him from beneath her lashes.
Dark and far too pleasing to look upon, her protector made her feel safe whenever he was near, yet seemed to add an unfamiliar pressure on her heart and a warmth low in her belly. Security and fire all at once. Duff.
It wasn’t safe for her to think of him by his name even when he wasn’t near. It was far too easy for her to conjure his image from memory when she was alone in the dark. Especially when she was alone in the dark. It was too easy to wonder how his strong fingers might feel tracing the curve of her cheek and his palm sliding around to cup her nape as he his mouth lowered over hers. Mairi hid her flinch of surprise when a servant stopped before her to refill her goblet. She smiled her thanks, truly grateful for the interruption, and turned her mind from dark wishes to the present.
Peppered salmon dripping in a butter sauce and served with carrots, green beans and garlic-drenched leek was the main dish of the noon meal. Conversation while they ate centred about the feast planned for the following day. Mairi shared a trencher with Angus, and the man’s smile at having provided the victuals from Loch Gordon did not leave his face until the last morsel of fish had been consumed.
Mairi, her father and Douglas had discussed and planned all the events and necessities long before her suitors’ invitations had been given. Cook, along with the kitchen maids and servants were well equipped to prepare the food, and many of the castle folk had been well versed in the setting up of several activities, both within the bailey and across the drawbridge on the wide patch of green grass without.
‘Clan Gordon has not held a feast day in more than eleven summers,’ her father said quietly to his guests. ‘We must make it one to remember.’ He held his goblet aloft. ‘Tomorrow’s feast, in honour of my beautiful daughter.’
Warmth fired in her cheeks at her father’s toast. She met his blue gaze and saw something she couldn’t remember seeing before. Pride. Was he truly proud of her, despite what she’d done so long ago? A lump formed in her throat. How she wished she’d done what he’d asked of her.
Oh God. She lowered her gaze and took a sip of her watered wine but couldn’t swallow it passed the ball of guilt clogging her throat. She held it in her mouth and remembered the tear-soaked days that had followed. The never-ending days of torment and her vow to always do as her father said no matter what she thought or felt. She believed she’d upheld her oath ever since and would continue to do so forever more.
Mairi’s reminder allowed her to swallow her wine. She lifted her lashes in time to see the men return their empty goblets to the table. What would they think of her if they knew she had caused the deaths of both her mother and her brother? Would they still be keen to win her hand?
‘I would ask a favour of you, Mairi.’
She shook off the worrying thought and looked at her sire. ‘Anything, Father.’
‘Our guests are a competitive lot,’ her father said with mock seriousness, ‘And I have promised to show them around the activities we have planned for the morn.’
‘‘Tis only fair that all of us view the layout of each contest,’ Ranald said.
‘Aye,’ Ewan said. ‘We will all be at our best knowing exactly what we need to do.’
‘You may look all you like, lads, but it’ll make nae difference when I win,’ Angus said with an exaggerated sigh.
Scoffing sounds, muttered denials, and grins abounded.
‘The games should prove interesting,’ her father said. ‘But I have yet to count the barrels of wine and ale in the basement.’
Such an easy task and something she’d planned to do several days before. Instead, she’d counted stones and spent her time in the basement spying. ‘I will take care of the wine and ale, Father.’ It was wonderful to see him smiling.
‘My thanks, Mairi,’ her father said as he stood. ‘Duff will accompany you,’ he added, glancing toward her personal guard, who nodded.
Alone in the dark with her protector? ‘Father, I can count the barrels without an escort,’ she said hoping her smile appeared real and her voice didn’t betray her panic.
‘I know you can, Daughter,’ he said, giving her the large iron key for the door. ‘But as you are completing the task for me, I will feel better knowing you are not alone.’
‘But I—’
Her father’s stern look was enough to stop her saying more. ‘When you three are ready,’ her father said, turning from her.
Chairs scraped against the timbered floor as her suitors sprang from their s
eats and excused themselves with a, ‘Lady Mairi,’ and a bow.
She watched them follow her father to the hall’s exit and disappear outside, suddenly wishing she was leaving with them. But she wasn’t and she had a task to fulfil. A duty. She could do this. She just couldn’t bring herself to look at her personal guard. Thought it better not to. Then perhaps she could pretend he wasn’t going below into the basement’s cool darkness with her.
Mairi stood and strode to the staircase. Not only did the steps lead upward to the sleeping chambers, but they also continued down into the basement where much of their food was stored and the castle dungeons were located. She stopped by the slim shelf that housed several used candles and flint for the purpose of checking the supplies. She lit one candle and fleetingly thought to go above and fetch her cloak, for the vaulted space below was cold even on the warmest of days. But she thought it wiser to get the task done as quickly as possible, else she’d have even more time to think about being alone with the one man she shouldn’t be alone with.
She slid the key into the hole and turned it until she heard a loud a click. She slipped the key into the deep pocket in her gown and reached for her lit candle. The flame bent and flickered as she carried it to the door, only to find that her personal guard had opened it for her.
The door slowly creaked outward and a blast of chill air rushed up to greet her. She cupped the threatened flame and without a word of thanks to her protector, she stepped through the doorway and down the stairs, her footfalls echoing in the dark.
The cold seemed to have a mind of its own and knew precisely where to find her most vulnerable spots. Her exposed face and bare hands were obvious, but she felt the chill more in the hidden places where it brushed her nape and circled her ankles. She ignored the tiny shiver that ran halfway down her back and told herself not to be so weak. But she couldn’t help wishing she’d left her hair out and hanging free to cover her neck and shoulders.
The opposite wall boasted three doors, all with iron grills centred high in the wood. To her knowledge, only two of the rooms had been used in her lifetime. Both to house the men caught hunting in her father’s forest, for a short time before her father had heard their sorry tales, invited them to eat at his table and then had set them free.
Ageing barrels of wine from Burgundy and Gascony sat in neat rows shadowed by the stone staircase. She left the last step and cupping her flame, turned to walk along the line, counting as she went. Ten full barrels of full-strength wine was more than enough to see them through tomorrow’s feast, and likely the rest of the year. The watering down of the beverage saved many a sore head and prolonged how often her father bargained for more.
Mairi turned on her heel and headed to the rear wall, the chill deepening the further she went. The small warmth lighting the centre of her palm helped her stave off another shudder as she reached the smaller timber casks of ale made within Castle Gordon.
She knew she wasn’t alone, but pretended she was. It was best this way.
She’d never taken to the bitter taste of ale, preferring watered wine, but many of Clan Gordon’s men had. She counted fifteen in the first row on the floor, then doubled it due to the casks stored on top. A second row mirrored the first, giving them a total of sixty-one small barrels of ale, including the single cask sitting alone. More than enough to see that no one perished of thirst.
A smile tugged at her mouth at the thought. But she remembered where she was and who was with her and the smile never formed.
Her duty done, Mairi turned about ready to return to the crowded hall above. She needed to surround herself with people, lose herself among many. The wick suddenly spluttered and died, plunging the basement into darkness. The toe of her boot caught on something unseen, she lost her balance, dropped her candle and collided with a solid wall of leathered heat.
Her cheek pressed into the soft leather of his vest. Her chest moulded against him. Her open palms were flat against the same hide but a little lower, pulsing in the centre, wanting to test and search what lay beneath them. She held them still and drew in a long, slow breath scented with leather, pine and a hint of spice. And danger.
The steady thud of his heartbeat in her ear proved they could stand no closer and sent her heart to racing. His heat seeped into her, the cold no longer her care. A sense of rightness and of peace, yet of forbidden excitement and swelling anticipation coursed through her. The dark was so full she didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. Did it matter?
Large, warm hands easily circled her upper arms and gently flexed as if to move her away, but instead did nothing but hold her.
‘Do you test me?’
Like liquid silk, his voice ran down her spine.
She did test him. She shouldn’t, but she did. It was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She should move away, but …
‘And myself.’
She rode the wave of his expanding chest. Sensed his head lowering closer. Felt the warmth of his breath along the side of her face and corner of her mouth. His heart raced, as did hers. His hands tightened about her arms and released. Tightened and released. ‘Christ!’
Duff’s torment hit her like a physical blow. Her eyes flew open. He stepped away. Released her. Mairi shuddered with the loss. She stood in the darkness and wrapped her arms around herself, cold to the bone, desperately trying to see him, but the blackness was too great.
‘We must …’ He fell silent. ‘This … must never happen again.’
Mairi had no idea what this was either. Knowing Duff struggled to name the tide of emotions swamping them made her feel less adrift in the constant push and pull.
‘There are only two days remaining before you name your husband from the men your father has deemed worthy.’
His words sounded firm and sure, but knowing he felt this too, fought the same tempest within, spiked her delight and dread in equal measure. How could she possibly—
‘We must honour your father and his wishes.’
Mairi stilled and then took a step back. Father. Her father deserved to be honoured in all things. Despite not knowing he was aiding her, Mairi’s father would help her to win the fight against whatever this was that drew her to her personal guard, and away from her duty.
Chapter Eighteen
Duff sipped from his cup, silently wishing the evening meal was done. Wishing he’d never accepted the role as Mairi Gordon’s temporary personal guard. Wishing he could take her fully in his arms and feel her flush against his body once more.
She turned her head at something one of her suitors said and the candle’s glow gleamed golden in her hair. Hair that smelled of wildflowers. Hair that had brushed up against the underside of his jaw.
Feeling her against him, leaning into him, had been far more arousing than he’d allowed himself to imagine. Knowing she wanted to stay within his arms made his wanting far more dangerous. Lured by the temptation of her lips, lips he couldn’t see, but had memorised to perfection, he’d lowered his head and felt the softness of her cheek against his. All he’d needed to do was angle his head down a fraction more and the corner of his mouth would have aligned with hers.
But that desperate want and primal fear had given him the strength to move her away and to let her go. Standing there in the darkness, and not being able to see her, didn’t matter. He’d known exactly where she was and he’d wanted more than anything to draw her back into his arms and claim her lips with his own.
Never in his twenty-six years had he suffered such a hunger. And now watching her being courted by three other men opened a hole in his stomach so large he didn’t ever believe he’d feel full again.
‘What about you, Duff?’ Alastair Gordon said. ‘Will you take part in any of tomorrow’s games?’
Duff looked at the man who was wholly responsible for stopping him for reaching for Mairi again, and for returning him to senses.
‘My thanks, Laird Gordon,’ Duff said, not sure if he was thanking him for being included in the conver
sation or for saving his honour. ‘But I’d prefer to watch.’
‘Well, that’s fine by me, Duff,’ Angus Hay said. ‘You can stand by and watch me kick Ranald and Ewan’s arses.’ Angus laughed along with the rest of the table, but his cheeks quickly reddened when he realised he’d cursed in front of Mairi. ‘God smite me. I beg your forgiveness, Lady Mairi.’
Duff witnessed Mairi’s struggle not to laugh and her efforts only made him want her more. This was the first time he’d seen her like this and he wanted to see her joy more often.
‘You are forgiven, Angus,’ Mairi said and ducked her head to hide her smile.
Duff forced himself to look away from her and turned to gaze out into the crowded hall. Iain sat at the front of one of the head tables, his eyes firmly fixed on Mairi. Duff had only suffered from wanting Mairi for a handful of days. He couldn’t imagine surviving such a powerful want for any great length of time. Couldn’t fathom what it must be like to see her every day, yet not be near her or to hold her. Duff now understood Iain’s anger and frustration at swordplay. It stemmed from a desperate want and a ravenous desire for Mairi that neither he nor Iain would ever have fulfilled.
‘‘Tis late and I am off to seek my bed,’ Alastair Gordon said, and gained his feet. ‘I suggest the rest of you retire soon so you have nae excuses while competing against one another the morn.’
Chuckles and half-hearted protests followed. Duff looked at Mairi as she stood, taking her father’s lead and retiring for the night.
Duff rose from his chair and fell in behind father and daughter as they walked arm in arm about the table and across the hall.
‘My thanks for counting the barrels, Mairi,’ Alastair said as they climbed the stairs.
‘It was nothing, Father.’
Did she speak of the task or of what had happened between them while below in the dark? Duff clenched his fists.
The uncertainties and the wishing and wanting were all something Duff had never had to deal with before. The only thing he’d been uncertain about in his life was who he was. The only things he’d wanted and wished for was to know his origins so he could marry and have a family of his own.
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