Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2)

by Constance O'Banyon

  They rode back to the castle in silence. Arrian went immediately to her room, glad for the solitude. She needed time to think about what had happened to her today. She felt so guilty and wondered how she could ever face Ian.

  Warrick turned his horse away from the castle and rode across a wooden bridge and down a well-worn path. In the distance he could hear the roar of a waterfall, and he galloped Titus in that direction.

  He dismounted and stood at the edge of a cliff, watching water rush over the high embankment. Sprays of mist settled on his face and hair, and he closed his eyes, hoping the cleansing water would heal his soul.

  For so long he had felt no emotion other than hatred and revenge. Now a door had opened within him, and a tide of feelings he did not welcome overwhelmed him.

  He had to force himself to forget how soft Arrian's lips had felt beneath his. He did not want to think about the silkiness of her hair or the clean scent of her velvet skin.

  She must not become too important to him. She was a tool, a means to an end. Perhaps he would make her love him and use her newfound desires to bind her to him. Only then would he send her back to Ian, who would be cheated of her love.

  His eyes closed against the light rain that had begun to fall. He must take care not to become a victim of those innocent blue eyes.

  The next morning, when Arrian came downstairs, she found Warrick waiting for her in the breakfast room. She had been dreading the thought of facing him after what had happened between them the day before.

  But he smiled at her and held at her chair while she sat down. "Try the muffins, they're delicious."

  She picked up a teacup, staring at it because she could not look at him. How could he act as if nothing had transpired between them?

  He placed a scone dripping with creamy yellow butter on her plate. "Did you sleep well?" he inquired.

  "I . . . yes, I did."

  "I wondered, Arrian, if you would like to go riding again today."

  She would have liked nothing better than to go riding with him. "I'm not sure if that would be wise," she said.

  "I thought you might like to go into the village with me.

  Before she could reply the door opened, and a woman dressed in a yellow riding habit entered, looking first at Warrick and then at Arrian.

  Warrick came to his feet. "Louise, I hadn't heard that you'd returned."

  Louise moved up to him, standing so close her breasts brushed against his chest. "I missed . . . home."

  Arrian looked at the woman who, though not beautiful, was certainly striking. Her hair was brown, and she was dressed in the latest fashion. Her yellow habit was just the right color to call attention to her soft brown eyes.

  Warrick turned the woman to face Arrian. "May I present Mrs. Louise Robertson, a neighbor and longtime friend. Louise, this is my . . . er . . . wife, Lady Arrian."

  With rage in her eyes, Louise Robertson stared at the young beauty, but she managed to smile at Warrick. "So it's true. You have taken a wife—and so young." She touched his arm and spoke in a familiar tone. "I was sure you would wait for me—apparently you have not."

  His smile was reserved. "Now, what would have given you that notion, Louise?"

  She ran a gloved finger across his chin. "I can think of several reasons."

  Arrian quickly came to her feet, unwilling to sit through such wanton behavior. "If you will both excuse me, I'll leave you to your reunion."

  Warrick caught her hand. "No, don't go. There is nothing we have to say that you can't hear."

  Louise pouted. "I had hoped you would lend me your expertise. A gentleman will be arriving this afternoon with several horses he wants me to purchase. I know so little about good horseflesh, I need a trained eye so that I won't be cheated. Could you not come to Longwood and help me?"

  Arrian moved to the door. "Yes, go with her, Warrick. Anyone who doesn't know good horseflesh when they see it would surely need help."

  Louise Robertson stared after Lady Arrian as she went out the door. She wasn't certain, but she might have just been insulted.

  Warrick smiled to himself. "I'll go with you, Louise, but I cannot stay past noon."

  Louise gazed into his eyes. "Are you really married, Warrick?"

  "Very married."

  "But they say the lady is a Maclvors. Can that really be true?"

  "No, Louise," he said with some satisfaction, "she is a Glencarin."

  Arrian paced the length of her room, venting her anger. How dare that woman carry on so brazenly in front of her, and how dare Warrick allow it? After all, he was her husband and—

  She dropped down on a chair, trying to gather her thoughts. Why should she care what Warrick did with that woman? He was nothing to her.

  Why then did she feel this restlessness of spirit—and why was it tinged with a sense of betrayal?

  13

  For five days Arrian did not see Warrick. She imagined him with Louise Robertson, and for some reason she didn't like the thought of the two of them together. She spent her time walking around on the grounds, visiting the stables, and gazing off into the distant rippling waves of the North Sea.

  Today she was feeling particularly restless as she walked through the courtyard to the back of the house. She was appalled at the neglect of the gardens. At one time Ironworth must have been a magnificent castle, with its beautiful view of the mountains and sea. How could Warrick care so little for his property?

  She saw Mrs. Haddington doing the wash and walked in her direction. Since the wedding the housekeeper had been respectful but distant.

  "The snow has all melted and the weather is warm, Mrs. Haddington," Arrian said, trying to make polite conversation.

  The housekeeper paused at her task and wiped the soap suds from her hands. "It seems so, m'lady."

  Arrian sat on a wooden bench, thinking how good the sun felt beating down on her. "Have you heard anything from your daughter? I'm worried about my aunt."

  "Barra’ll not write. We'll know what's happened when she returns, and I don't know when that'll be."

  "I was just wondering what Ironworth Castle must have been like at one time, Mrs. Haddington."

  "Twas once grand, m'lady, but it fell to ruin when the old chief settled most of his money on Lady Gwendolyn."

  "Warrick had told me about that."

  "Now my lord toils ta hold us together. Those who canna go out on the fishing boats become shepherds. All his lordship's money goes ta buy sheep and help them in the village."

  Arrian remembered her aunt telling her about the duties of a chief. It seemed that Warrick cared more about his villagers than his own comforts. That thought touched her heart. "I have not yet visited the village, but I hope to soon."

  "Meaning no disrespect, m'lady, but you'll no' find our village ta your liking."

  "You don't like me very well do you, Mrs. Haddington?"

  "It no for me to say if I like or dislike you. I have'na' found you to be of a bad nature, but I dinna like what you're doing to his lordship."

  "Mrs. Haddington, I would say I was more sinned against than sinned."

  "Well, as to that I dinna ken." Her eyes became accusing. "Ye're a Maclvors."

  "Mrs. Haddington, my name is DeWinter. I did not ask to be brought here, and I do not want to stay."

  "Like as not you'll tear his heart out before ye're done."

  Arrian realized she should not talk so intimately with a servant. The woman didn't seem to care that she had been forced to marry Warrick. Of course the housekeeper would know that they didn't share the same bedroom and had no real marriage.

  With a resigned sigh, Arrian turned to walk away.

  "M'lady?"

  Arrian glanced back at the woman. "Yes, Mrs. Haddington?"

  "I have found ye to be of a sweet nature. And no' demanding. I shouldn'a be saying this, but I like ye better than that Louise Robertson."

  Arrian smiled. She had just received high praise indeed from the housekeeper. "Thank you, Mrs. H
addington."

  "If that one had her way, she'd stand in ye're place."

  Arrian walked away, not wanting to think about that. Perhaps Warrick was sorry for their hasty marriage. Well, she thought angrily, it served him right. All he had to do was let her go, and he could have Louise Robertson.

  Arrian had eaten a solitary dinner in her room, and loneliness lay heavy on her heart. She was still worried about her aunt, and she wondered what her parents and Michael were doing. Surely by now they would know that she was a prisoner at Ironworth Castle.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and Mrs. Haddington entered. The woman's eyes seemed to have lost much of their hostility.

  "His lordship asks if you'd join him in the sitting room."

  Arrian came quickly to her feet, seething with anger. "Indeed I shall."

  "If you'll go right down, m'lady, he's waiting."

  Warrick watched Arrian enter in a flurry of cranberry-colored taffeta. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. It was obvious that she was angry with him. So, his waiting game had worked.

  He slowly walked toward her, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. "Each time I see you, you grow more beautiful. How can that be?"

  Her eyes flickered. She was accustomed to receiving tributes to her beauty. Most of the time she laughed them off, but it was different now. She had a feeling Warrick was true to his convictions and never offered a woman his good opinion unless he meant it.

  She turned away from him. "I suppose you and Mrs. Robertson spent the last five days together."

  His eyes flickered. "No. I have not seen Louise since that day I helped her select horses."

  "I have been restless, and too much in my own company."

  "Dare I hope you missed me, Arrian?"

  "I merely said I was lonely, my lord. There is very little here to occupy my time."

  He clasped her hand. "Then we shall just have to remedy that. Do you play chess?"

  "I have played on occasion."

  He led her to the chess board and seated her on a chair. She picked up a wooden pawn and touched several medieval lords and ladies.

  Warrick seated himself across from her. "I'll have to warn you, Arrian, I mastered chess at age twelve, and my game has steadily improved since then."

  She sighed. "I can only hope you will be merciful with me, my lord."

  He generously offered her the white, so she made the first move.

  Warrick smiled indulgently at her. "It isn't wise to move your knight and leave him unprotected, Arrian."

  He moved a pawn forward, his eyes challenging her. "You wouldn't like me to take your knight with a pawn would you?"

  She smiled at him. "No, my lord." She moved her queen, offering it to him as a temptation.

  "I suppose chess is much like war, Arrian. That's why it's a man's game. I don't believe a woman is capable of strategy. A man would never sacrifice his queen." He moved his bishop forward, taking her queen.

  "You are far too pompous, my lord. How shall I punish you?"

  Three moves later, Arrian slid her knight into place with mischief dancing in her eyes. "Checkmate, my lord."

  Warrick stared at her in astonishment. Then his eyes danced with humor. "You little devil. You deliberately offered me your queen as bait."

  Her eyes were shining with triumph. "But Warrick, you pointed out that chess was a man's game. Will you surrender to a mere woman, my lord?"

  "Yes, my little trickster—I yield the game to you. But you were naughty to let me believe you were only a novice at chess."

  "I never said so."

  He took her hand and raised her to her feet. "You have taken the day, Arrian. I don't believe I'll play chess with you again until I find out how you did that."

  She walked with him to a table where Mrs. Haddington was laying out tea and brandy. When the housekeeper withdrew they sat on the wide sofa.

  "Truth to tell, I'm not really an expect chess player, Warrick. As a matter of fact, my brother beat me so often that my father took me aside one day and showed me those moves. Most people don't expect the sacrifice of a queen or to be checkmated by a knight. It's a ploy that will work only once. If we played again, you would surely win, for I do not play well."

  He laughed at her earnestness. She was so young and enchanting, he could only imagine what joy she brought to her family. There was no weeping and wailing as he had expected—she was everything that a wife should be.

  He watched her pour brandy into a glass and hand it to him. She then poured herself a cup of tea.

  "What other talents do you have that I don't know about, Arrian?"

  She placed her cup on the table and leaned forward as if she feared someone would overhear her. "I once rode the winning horse at a race in Raven worth."

  He pretended to be shocked. "Surely you jest. Not a lady such as yourself—for that matter, not any female."

  "I can assure you it's the truth. My uncle George had a horse entered for he had long coveted a win. The morning of the race my brother and I went to the stall to inspect his horse."

  "You were allowed to do that?"

  "Of course. It's our village. I am allowed freedom there that I wouldn't be allowed in London."

  "Go on."

  "Well, as my mother's maid, Elspeth, would say, the rider was in his cups. He couldn't stand, much less ride. Michael and I debated whether to tell Uncle George, because he had such high hopes."

  "I can see your dilemma."

  "Well, I determined that the jockey and I were about the same size. Against Michael's pleading, I donned the jockey's garb and shoved my hair beneath a cap. To my surprise, I won, which I had not counted on because I had to be led to the winner's circle, and I was afraid everyone would recognize me."

  The little charmer had Warrick completely entranced. "Then what happened?"

  "Well, I could tell that my uncle knew it was me right away. After recovering from the shock, he silently accepted the trophy and the twenty pounds prize money."

  "Did he give you away?"

  "Not he. In fact, Uncle George never mentioned it to me. However, for my birthday the next year, my mother and father could not understand why he gave me his trophy. Of course Michael and I laughed at his generous gesture, knowing how long Uncle George had coveted that win."

  Warrick found himself being drawn more and more under Arrian's spell. She had no notion how adorable she was as she spoke of her misdeeds.

  He had not known that he was lonely until Arrian came into his life. She made him yearn for that which he could not have, made him restless and dissatisfied.

  "Arrian, are you so unhappy here?"

  "It has been difficult, Warrick. But I pass my days knowing you will allow me to leave by August."

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "What if I asked you to remain?"

  She looked into his eyes, wondering if he were speaking the truth or playing some kind of cruel game.

  He pulled her against him and held her for a long moment. He half expected her to move away, but she didn't. Was she beginning to fall in love with him? His plan was to break down her resistance, but he had to go slowly so that he wouldn't frighten her.

  Warrick took her face between his hands and stared at her parted lips. "You have not answered," he whispered. "If I asked it of you, would you stay with me?"

  Before she could reply, he dipped his head and covered her lips with a burning kiss that trapped her breath and sent her heart racing.

  Arrian could not speak as his hot hand drifted down her neck to move lightly across her breasts. She trembled with emotions she did not understand. Then she pushed his hand away, feeling the need to escape.

  "No, my lord, I would never willingly stay with you. I must remind you again that I belong to Ian. Nothing you can do will change that."

  His eyes had lost their softness. "I was always one to take up a challenge, my lady."

  "I issued you no challenge. I merely entreat you to let me go free." />
  "That I cannot do."

  "I don't want you to touch me again."

  Warrick pretended seriousness, while thinking how desirable she was. "You didn't like my kiss?"

  "You have no right to take liberties with me. I don't belong to you."

  He decided to take another tactic. "How would you like to ride with me in the morning?"

  Her eyes brightened. "I would like that, my lord."

  "Then I shall wish you a good night."

  For some reason Arrian didn't want to leave him, but he had definitely dismissed her. "Good night, my lord."

  Warrick walked her to the door and raised her hand to his lips, his mouth lingering on her wrist. "Until tomorrow, my lady."

  Arrian felt warm inside. Her feet seemed to glide up the stairs. Each time she saw Warrick her resentment of him lessened. When he kissed her tonight she should have slapped his face. He was slowly wearing down her resistance, and she was slipping further into his grasp. Was she in peril?

  When she reached her bedroom she locked the door, wondering if she was locking Lord Warrick out, or herself inside.

  14

  Arrian was thinking of Ravenworth and how different this land was from her home. This was a wild land, untamed and challenging, not unlike the man who rode beside her.

  As they neared the village she watched the smoke that curled from the chimneys. She looked around with interest as their horses clopped along cobbled streets.

  They rode past shops and cottages of drystone walls with roofs of thatch and heather. Soon laughing children surrounded them, their windburned faces showing evidence of nature's wrath and a harsh sea.

  "Morning, m'lord," one precocious little dark-haired girl called out. "Is this your lady?"

  "Yes, she is, Laura. Why aren't you children in school today?"

  "We saw ye out the window, m'lord, and the Mr. Dickerson wasn't in the room, so we ran out to give ye greetings."

  Arrian had never seen this side of Warrick. He laughed with the children, calling each one by their name and inquiring about their families with genuine concern. The children looked at him with respect and an easy affection.