A Hellish Highlander

by McQueen, Hildie

  She returned back into the garden, her stomach jittery. “I am almost finished with my tasks. Do ye require something from me?”

  “Aye,” Elspeth said, walking behind her. “New gowns have arrived, two for me and one for ye. The seamstress wishes us to try them on.”

  Every time Elspeth got new dresses made, she ordered one for Ceilidh.

  Her wardrobe was growing to the point that she sometimes felt uncomfortable about it. However, she loved each of the beautiful gowns and would be hard-pressed to give any away. Already, she’d donated all but two of her older dresses to village poor.

  The two dresses that remained, she wore for chores and gardening or whenever she rode a horse.

  “Truly?” Ceilidh couldn’t help but smile widely. “The blue one?”

  “I believe so,” Elspeth replied. “I have not seen them as yet. I decided to come and find ye so we could do so together.”

  When Elspeth grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the house, Ceilidh did not resist and, together, they raced into the house, through the great room where people were gathered and up the stairs.

  By the time they reached Elspeth and Malcolm’s chambers, they were breathless. The seamstress looked up and gave them a questioning look. “Is all well Lady Ross?”

  Elspeth made a shooing motion with her hands. “Julianne, when we are alone, please call me Elspeth.”

  The seamstress pulled out a gown. “Lady Ross, here is the first of yer gowns.” She pulled a beautiful ivory gown that Elspeth had ordered for a summer festival celebration and both of them let out a gasp.

  Ceilidh neared the dress, not daring to touch the fabric with her dirty hands. “It is breathtaking.”

  “Go and bathe,” Elspeth ordered. “Ye cannot try on anything in that state.” She looked Ceilidh up and down. “Ye’re dirty.”

  “I can see them. I will not touch.”

  Elspeth pulled on a cord and, within moments, a maid appeared. “Have a bath drawn for Lady Ceilidh. Do so in the kitchens. She will be down momentarily.”

  “I do not wish to go back through the great room,” she admitted, considering that the last thing she wanted was to run into Ian.

  “Go down the back corridor then,” Elspeth instructed as the seamstress pulled out a second gown. This one was in muted tones of grey.

  Finally, a beautiful blue creation was held up for inspection and Ceilidh wanted to weep with joy. It was so very beautiful.

  Both forgot about the bath, too fascinated by the wonderful creation.

  It was a few minutes later that, finally, Ceilidh made her way down to the bath.

  Moira, the cook, gave her an annoyed glance. Although the woman was rough around the edges, she was kind and one of the few people there at the keep that Ceilidh had grown to care for.

  “Ye should not be traipsing about my kitchens with those dirty shoes.” She gave Ceilidh a pointed look and motioned to behind a set of screens. “Yer bath is ready. There was perfumed oiled added to the pitcher. Use it to rinse yer hair.”

  “Thank ye.” Ceilidh gave her a toothy smile. “I cannot tell ye how excited I am about this bath. Afterward, I can go try on a new dress.”

  Despite her eye roll, Moira’s lips twitched. “Yer water grows cold.”

  Minutes later as she sunk into the hot water, Ceilidh sighed with contentment. It never ceased to amaze her how wonderful her and Elspeth’s lives were now and how fortunate she was that her friend insisted she join her there at Ross Keep.

  She washed slowly despite the fact that she was anxious to return upstairs. She hadn’t gone near the gown, preferring to wait until she could touch it. With a cloth, she washed away the garden dirt and then sunk further down so that she could rinse her hair and wash it.

  The kitchen was surprisingly empty when Ian entered. However, the screens were up and he grinned. His mother must have been alerted to his presence and had a bath ready for him. Admittedly, he would have preferred to eat something first, however, the idea of a warm bath was just as alluring.

  He walked around the screens and yanked his tunic up over his head. Once that was done, he pulled his boots off and then pushed his breeches down. Totally bare, he looked to the hearth where a large cloth was hung so it would be warm for when he got out of the water.

  Taking one step forward, he froze at hearing a gasp.

  From the tub, a pair of eyes and a nose hovered just above the water. Wet hair plastered to her head, she attempted to sink further down.

  “Why are ye in my bath?” He had said the first thing that came to mind.

  Of anyone else in the keep, it was the one woman he did not wish to see at the moment. Not only that, but he stood before her bare as the day he was born.

  When her gaze moved between his legs, his body reacted and his staff twitched. Ian dove for the closest cloth and shielded himself. The small patch of fabric barely provided any coverage.

  “This is my bath, not yers,” Ceilidh replied, having lifted up just enough for her mouth to come above the water. “Leave now.”

  “I am not dressed.”

  Her eyes widened. “Dress at once then.”

  “I can turn my back and allow ye to finish.” Ian wasn’t sure why he didn’t dress and leave. Probably because a part of him wished to catch a glimpse of the beautiful woman’s body.

  For a long moment, she was silent, her eyes narrowed until they were but slits. “Ye are not a good man, Ian. Ye are without honor.”

  “Because I mistook yer bath for mine? My mother always has a bath ready for me when I return.”

  “Not this time,” she quipped. “If ye leave, I will finish with haste. Tis not as if ye wish to be in my presence.”

  His chest constricted at her words. “Ye saved my life. I can never repay what ye did for me. I hope ye know that.”

  Her right eyebrow rose. “By ignoring my existence? Is that how ye show yer appreciation?”

  “No, I have been sent away…”

  “Do not toy with me.” In her anger, Ceilidh rose up until the tops of her breasts lifted above the water. “If ye do not wish to speak of what happened between us, tis fine. But do not lie to me.”

  “It is not what ye think.” At the view of her full breasts, his thoughts returned to the time they’d been alone in the forest. She’d been perfect, so soft and pliant under body as they’d kissed each other breathless. It was only the fact he was not fully recovered from his battlefield injuries that had prevented him from taking her as his own. He became fully erect, his sex hardening behind the now much too small cloth.

  “Ye have no idea what I think.” Her voice rose and she sat up higher when pointing a finger at him.

  When his gaze fell to her chest, she gasped and sunk into the water. “I will leave momentarily. If ye wish to stand there like a naked statue, then do so. I do not care what ye do.”

  “I will cover myself.” He looked to the larger cloth. With only one hand, he would have to drop the cloth he held before being able to reach for it. “Will ye look away?”

  There was a challenge in her eye. “I have seen every part of yer body.”

  He met her eyes and set his jaw in an effort to intimidate her. “Not like this.” Although tempted to remove the cloth and show her, he kept from it and instead looked down to where he held the cloth.

  Ceilidh’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She swallowed visibly. “Turn around then. I will hurry and promise not to look.”

  He believed her. It wasn’t as if any woman could be attracted to a man who was as lacking as him, regardless of being battle ready and able to hold a sword up in battle. He was scarred and with only one arm, he was sure making love to him would be disgusting to a woman like Ceilidh.

  That she’d been willing to kiss that one time was due to how kind she was and probably because she’d felt sorry for him. Since his injury, pitying looks and comments were something he grew to hate.

  He heard the trickle of water being poured and then there was sloshing as she c
limbed from the bath. It was quiet for a few moments and he wondered what she was doing. She mumbled softly and he peeked out of the corners of his eyes toward the hearth.

  It was the best decision he’d ever made. She dried quickly, her lithe body with curves in the right places became still when she turned to ensure he wasn’t looking. He made sure to look straight ahead. With quick movements, she pulled a chemise over her head, allowing him to take one last look as the peaks of her breasts and soft curves of her hips disappeared under the folds of fabric.

  Within moments, she was fully dressed and dashed past him. Just before disappearing on the other side of the screen, she met his gaze.

  There was hurt in the beautiful blue-green pools. “I had hoped we would be friends or…” She gave a light shrug. “I suppose it matters little to ye.” Her gaze swept over him, hesitating at where he held the cloth.

  It could have been that he wished it so, but there seemed to be appreciation in her gaze. Before he could know for sure, she was gone.

  “Ian, whatever are ye doing there? And without a stitch of clothing?” His mother gave him a disapproving look as she rounded the screen. “Ceilidh was quite upset. She is not that kind of a woman.”

  All he could do was walk where the larger cloths were and took one. He expertly wrapped it around his waist by holding one edge down with the portion of arm he had left on the left. “I did not know she was here. I thought it was my bath.”

  “What did ye say to make her cry?”

  “She was crying?” he gawked. “Why would she be crying?”

  Moira shook her head. “I am saddened that my own son is so daft.”

  He frowned but did not say more as two lads hurried in to empty the bath.

  “Once ye bathe, ye will eat. And perhaps in the next day or so, I will explain to ye the very obvious.”

  Ian let out a long breath. “I am hungry.”

  “Bathe first,” his mother ordered and stalked around the screen.

  Ceilidh wiped away the tears and hurried into Elspeth’s chambers. Her hair dripped and her clothing was plastered to her still damp body.

  Upon Ceilidh entering, Elspeth turned and grinned. “Is this not the most divine creation?” She looked beautiful in the ivory gown.

  “Of course it is.” Ceilidh attempted to match her friend’s excitement. “Did I miss ye trying on the other?”

  “Ye did, but I can put it on again for last meal.” Elspeth motioned to the hearth. “Hurry, dry yer hair. Once Julianne finishes with this, she can ensure any stitching needed for yers is done. We will both wear new gowns tonight.”

  Thankfully, Elspeth mistook her bright nose and wet hair to being overly excited about the new gown, so she did not ask any questions. In truth, Ceilidh wanted to avoid last meal.

  The picture of Ian’s nude body stayed forefront in her mind’s eye. He was perfection. Despite scars and a missing arm, it did not diminish one bit the attraction she felt for him. She’d thought herself prepared to see him and confront him, but circumstances had taken a horrible turn and now it was impossible to face him and feign nonchalance.

  Had he realized how much his presence had affected her? Although she’d seen his body before while nursing him back to health after he’d been left for dead at a battleground, this had been vastly different.

  This time, he exuded health and vigor. He was battle-honed and without a hint of weakness. An indescribable aching had surged as she’d fought to keep from moving closer to Ian and reaching for him. Her fingers itched to trace over the rippling muscles of his chest and stomach.

  Ceilidh mused that the incident could be considered humorous, if not for the mortification of being discovered in a bath.

  “What are ye thinking of so deeply?” Elspeth asked, peering at her intently. “Are ye unwell?”

  Ceilidh jumped on the opportunity to miss last meal. “In truth, I feel ill. My head is spinning.” It was the truth. Her head was spinning. She gave Elspeth what she hoped was a hopeful expression. “I need to rest. I will miss last meal. Can we wear our new gowns tomorrow?”

  A maid entered and giggled upon seeing Ceilidh. “Moira wishes me to tell ye that Ian did not mean to walk in on ye.”

  Elspeth’s eyes rounded and she whirled to look at her. “What happened?” She yanked Ceilidh to the bench by the bed. “Tell me everything.”

  “I cannot. It was most mortifying.”

  Her friend never let her curiosity rest and she looked to the maid. “What did Ian walk in on?”

  “The mistress bathing,” the maid giggled. “He was completely nude.”

  Not only Elspeth, but also Julianne, the seamstress, dissolved into fits of laughter. Ceilidh tried her best to remain angry, but her lips began to twitch until she, too, began to laugh.

  “It was not at all comical,” she insisted, trying her best to look serous. “This is horrible.”

  “Nonsense,” Elspeth said. “Ye could not have planned it better. Now ye will wear the new gown and we will ensure ye look beautiful. And of course, ye will ignore him completely.”

  “Of course,” Julianne added and Ceilidh wondered why the woman was suddenly taking such an interest in her love life.

  *

  The room went silent when Lady Ross entered the great room at last meal. Ian looked up to see the appealing woman blushing from the attention. Laird Malcolm Ross stood, pride evident in his stance at seeing the beauty that’d he’d made his wife.

  Behind Lady Ross, Ceilidh entered and his eyes rounded. Dressed in a pale blue gown that matched her eyes, she seemed to float into the room, head held high. Although her dress was simpler than that of the laird’s wife, it suited her perfectly, molding to every curve like a soft breeze.

  Her golden hair had been swept up and into a simple style that enhanced the graceful neck and Ian could only imagine pressing his lips against the soft skin.

  Immediately, men began to murmur and Ian did his best to ignore the mumblings.

  “Did she not nurse ye to health?” One of the guards nudged him. “How much touching was involved?”

  Despite the urge to snap at the man, Ian knew it was best not to show his ire. Guardsmen grew bored during long periods of work and would take advantage of any sign of weakness to goad another constantly.

  “I was too damned sick to know. Perhaps she took advantage of me and I am not aware.”

  The men laughed and he slid a second look to where Ceilidh sat. She kept her gaze lowered, speaking to the other women gathered around her table. Not only did she not look in his direction when her gaze lifted, but she seemed to have forgotten all about their earlier interaction.

  Chapter Nine

  Munro Keep

  The amount of chaos over the wedding ceremony was enough to drive Gisela to hide under her bed. Everywhere, maids rushed to and from chambers. Her mother was agitated and frenzied over her dress not fitting quite right and then insisted her hair be taken down and combed again. She hadn’t exactly helped with the wedding in any way so far, as had been the excuse for them to remain.

  Gisela peered out the window to the courtyard where guards put up long tables for visitors who would not fit inside to join in the wedding feast. Carts piled high with chopped wood were being unloaded for bonfires later in the evening.

  “I should go help in the kitchen,” Gisela said, still looking out. “I am being of little use in here.”

  Her mother’s wide eyes took her in, scanning from her head to her feet. “Oh, no!”

  If there was a spider on her, she would have to throw it out the window. “Where is it?” Gisela looked down to her bodice.

  “Ye have not dressed yet. Yer hair is a mess.” Her mother looked about to faint. “Why are ye standing there looking like a pauper’s pet mouse?

  “This dress is more than suitable.” Gisela hesitated and touched her hair. “I do need to do something about my hair, I suppose.”

  When her mother screamed, both she and the maid jumped. “Get her dressed.
Do her hair. We need someone else in here to help.”

  “I will do it,” the maid said, seeming relieved to not have to continue to do Lillian’s hair.

  Gisela gave her an apologetic smile. “Thank ye. A simple braid is fine.”

  “Absolutely not,” her mother called from the doorway. “We are the laird’s family and cannot embarrass him.” She made a motion with her hands, calling someone to her. “Ye, yes, ye. We need help with my daughter’s preparation for the wedding. Fetch a maid or two.”

  “Mother, really. I have been dressing myself every day. I am already dressed.”

  “No, ye are not.” Her mother rushed to the wardrobe and pulled out a dress. “This is what ye are wearing.”

  The forest green dress was beautiful, but the bodice would be much too revealing since it was obviously made for someone with a much smaller bust.

  “Where did ye get that?” Gisela shirked away when her mother neared with it. “It is not mine.”

  “I asked Lady Munro for a dress for ye and she was gracious enough to find it. It was left behind by a very wealthy widow.”

  Once she put the dress on, Gisela had to admit it fit beautifully. The gown was made of fine fabric and the color suited her olive complexion, however, she wasn’t sure how to keep her breasts from spilling over the top.

  “We can push them down,” the maid offered. It was obvious she fought not to laugh.

  Lillian looked to explode with glee. “Nay! I have no doubt after today, ye will be overcome with men wishing to court ye.”

  “Mother, do not dare bring the subject up today. This is Verity’s day.” Gisela gave the maid a stern look. “Loosen the stays. I will pull the top up and ye will bind me in.”

  Finally after a few moments, her breasts were contained. She couldn’t take a full breath, but that was preferable to looking like a tavern wench.

  “There…now…that’s better.” Gisela sounded out of breath, but she didn’t care.