Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Notorious in the West\Yield to the Highlander\Return of the Viking Warrior (34 page)

She poured some water into a pot and put it on to heat. Her one luxury, the one thing she spent her pennies on that was not a necessity, was a special tea from the healer. The healer's herb garden was the best in Lairig Dubh and she provided Cat with betony leaves that steeped into a wonderful concoction.

Taking out a leaf and crushing it into a battered metal mug, she poured the steaming water over it and set it aside to brew. With a drop of honey to sweeten the taste, she went looking for something to eat and found the oatcakes left from the day before wrapped in cloth. A simple way to break her fast, but she wanted nothing more this morn. Making her way not to the table but to the cushioned chair, she sat down and sipped the tea.

Her body, though not well rested, felt alive for the first time. There was not a place on her he had not touched last night. He'd pleasured her so many times and so much that she lost herself in it. She should be tired. She should be exhausted, but she was not. Truth be told, she wanted to run laughing along the lanes and share the joy she'd had with anyone who would listen. She wanted to tell Muireall that she understood now what she'd meant.

But she would do none of those things for to do so would make them all question whether or not this affair had begun before Gowan's death. They would look askance once more, in spite of Aidan's protection, and she could not bear that.

And now? Now what would she do?

Even the betony tea did not soothe the slight of his wordless leaving. Looking around the empty house, the truth struck her—this is how a man treated his leman.

No explanations, no excuses, no leavetaking. None of that was necessary when a man paid a woman for her time. He did not answer to her, but she did to him.

That stung even more.

Oh, Cat had accepted that he was not hers and would never be, but the truth of her circumstances was harder to ignore in the cold light of day. A night of passion spent did not grant anything more than that. Many questions turned over and over in her thoughts and the betony tea provided no clarity. She allowed herself only until she finished, before deciding that she would seek out Muireall and offer her help this day.

The sharp rapping on the door surprised her, for no one had come to call on her since she'd moved in just days ago. Walking to open it, she found a wee lad who stood there, holding out a flower torn from some bed.

‘The laird's son bid me bring this to you and say...' He paused, shuffling his feet in the dirt there and shaking his head as he whispered to himself.

‘What is your name?' she asked, crouching down so she could look him in the face. His mop of red hair stood on end and a thick sprinkling of freckles on his face reminded her of the miller's oldest.

‘Alasdair,' he said, before returning to his whispered words.

‘Aidan MacLerie sent you here?' Her heart lightened in that moment. Mayhap it was better than she thought? ‘He sent this flower?' She brought the blossom, one that grew along the paths in the forest, to her nose to smell its scent. Aidan must have passed them on his way out this morn.

‘Aye, he did. And he said...' His face filled with misery then and tears threatened to spill. ‘I have forgotten the rest, mistress.'

Catriona reached out and lifted his chin so he would look at her and not the ground. ‘You do remember the words, Alasdair. If you take a deep breath and let it out, the words will come back to you now.'

‘Do ye think so?' His bright green eyes showed his doubt, but he shrugged and nodded. ‘I could try.'

Cat smiled and urged him to, knowing it was really just a way for him to calm down and then he might remember whatever message Aidan had sent to her. ‘Go on with you now. Try.'

With all the seriousness of a warrior going into battle, he sucked in a breath that filled his wee chest almost to bursting and then pushed it out with great force. So great a force that she nearly coughed in response. But she waited as the smile grew wider across his face and he nodded.

‘He said to bid ye to visit his cousin this morn. And he will speak to ye further on in the day.'

He let out a shout and jumped up and down, clearly thrilled with himself for carrying out his duty. She stood then and smiled at the boy.

‘I will tell Aidan that you carried out your task well, Alasdair,' she promised.

She bade him to wait a moment and went into the house and found the last oatcake. Boys his age were hungry every moment of every day and he snatched it out of her hand with a quick word of thanks. He reached the end of the walk where it joined the lane and turned back to her.

‘Just call me if ye need a message sent back to the laird's son, mistress. I am good at carrying them and will find him for ye.'

Wee Alasdair did not wait for an answer, for he stuffed the last bit of oatcake into his mouth and ran off, holding a penny in his fingers which Aidan must have paid him for his services.

The day grew brighter then, no matter the clouds that rolled overhead and threatened that the springs rains would fall. A smile blossomed on her face as she looked at the single flower in her hand.

He had left, but he had thought of her.

And he placed a task before her—a reminder, a request more, that she visit Ciara and learn to read and write. Aidan said it would be hard work to learn her letters and numbers and she did not doubt that.

Now, though, with the possibility of a future ahead of her, she realised that knowledge and a skill like that could give her opportunities once Aidan married. So learning with Ciara could help her to be on her own. Right now, this morn, that felt right to her.

She finished dressing and went to begin a new part of her life then—one in which she could make decisions for herself. One that included some joy.

And one in which there would be a large measure of passion.

Chapter Thirteen

A
idan walked towards the keep, regretting with every step that he'd left without seeing her smile this morn. And though he had taken her without ceasing all through the night, his body ached for her even now.

Catriona was everything he'd hoped for in a lover even if her innocence in bedplay was clear. She opened to him and he brought her to release and to pleasure for what must be the first time in her life. Her body answered his every touch and he had so much more to show her. How it should be between a man and woman. How pleasure should be shared and should be for both of them. His blood surged and his cock rose in spite of how many times they'd joined all through the night.

Duty, his father, summoned him to his side this morn. When his parents left for his uncle's wedding, Aidan would stand in his father's place. And make judgements in his stead. Today, he would hear disputes and resolve them, just as he would once he took over control of Ord Dubh.

He passed through the gates and waved to the guards. When his friends saw him and followed, he wanted to sing out Catriona's praises to them, but he held the words. Though ever eager to share stories of their prowess with each other, somehow, exposing her to them felt...wrong.

So, as they recognised the signs he could not seem to hide on the morning after a good bout of sex and asked for the details, he brushed them aside.

‘Just tell us her name?' Angus said.

‘You are daft!' Caelan said, smacking Angus on the side of his head. ‘Everyone knows who she is. He's been after her for weeks.'

‘I was not sure which of the rumours spoke true of it, but I can tell from your stride that you have been well f—' Angus stopped and changed the word when Aidan glared at him. ‘Well tupped.'

Aidan stopped then and looked at them. ‘Speak of this, of her, to no one lest Munro hears of it. And I will not have it said she dishonoured her vows before Gowan's death.'

He needed them to know that truth. Something within him would not allow her to be shamed by his actions.

‘Munro kens of the house you gave her,' Dougal said. ‘Everyone kens.'

Aye, everyone would know every move he made, that was the way of things. And what they did not, his father would anyway.

He'd counted on everyone knowing, to ease her way and to keep her safe from harassment. But he did not wish to speak of her openly with his friends. Not in the way they usually shared details of their conquests and their bedding of this woman or that one.

‘My father waits on me,' he said, walking towards the keep then. ‘Do you wish to watch?'

Though the others strode off, not interested in anything but fighting and swiving or talking about doing those things, Young Dougal walked silently at his side into the keep. Dougal, unlike Angus, knew when to keep his mouth shut and Aidan liked that about him. Entering the great hall, Aidan found both of their fathers at the high table, though Rurik sat at one end while his father sat in the centre with his mother next to him. With a nod of his head, his father directed him to the other side.

The disputes heard this morn were not serious in nature, but they needed the chieftain's wisdom and his support of whoever won the argument. One farmer claimed another had stolen livestock. A man asked approval for a marriage between his son and a woman from outside the clan. About ten matters in all needed to be heard.

He bowed to his mother as he walked up the steps and then took the seat next to his father. When he looked at Rurik at the other end of the table, the man's gaze narrowed and then he nodded. A flurry of exchanged glances between his parents and Rurik ended with them all looking at him with some awareness in their eyes.

Did he wear the fact that he'd finally shared Catriona's bed like a garment? The good thing was he saw no censure in their glances, but he suspected they would have words with him about it soon.

* * *

The morning passed slowly as villagers and men sworn in service and merchants came before the earl to settle their disputes. Though not with each, his father had asked for his counsel as much as he did his mother, so Aidan thought he must be meeting his father's expectations. When the session was done, it was time for the noon meal.

As the servants prepared the table and then brought forth platters of cheese and roasted quail and other meats, his father called him to speak with him and Rurik. His mother was too busy directing the servants to notice.

‘So, 'tis a thing done then?' his father asked him.

He did not pretend not to understand the question.

‘Aye.' He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the taller, stronger, older Rurik's stance.

‘No matter that she has taken you to her bed, arrangements are moving forward for finding you a suitable wife. Think not to delay it because you've found a pleasing place between her legs.'

Anger filled him then, but he held it in check. So, his father thought this was no different than all the other women before her? He could not blame him or anyone else who thought this was the same as his past behaviour. But it wasn't. He didn't know how this differed, but it did.

‘I know my duty and she knows her place, Father.'

‘It is easy enough to forget once the chase is done and the quarry is in your grasp. Success in capturing what, or whom, you wanted and pursued at such a cost as she did can lead to a loss of control over your feelings, Aidan. Do not let yours run loose and unbridled.'

‘As I said, I know my duties and she her place.'

His father's only reply was a curt nod, while Rurik grunted. Aidan knew not if it was in approval or something else.

His mother called them to table and Dougal joined his father there. They ate then, speaking mostly about their journey, who would accompany them and what tasks would be most important during their absence. All they waited on was for the warmer air to allow the snow in the higher passes to melt and they would be on their way.

All through the meal, his thoughts wandered to that house on the far side of the village. How had she looked when she awakened? Had her paleness been replaced by the rosy blush she wore as he pleasured her? Would she sink back into the demure, unassuming demeanour or would she remain the woman who boldly took her pleasure and screamed out her delight throughout the night?

Did his message arrive? The boy was so excited by the offered penny that Aidan wondered if he'd even heard the words he wanted said to Catriona.

Did she seek out Ciara for lessons this morn? Was this day like any other to her or had last night's intimacies changed her?

‘Aidan?'

His mother's voice broke into his thoughts. The silence around him let him know everyone noticed his distraction.

‘Aye, Mother. What did you say?' A few deep chuckles down the table confirmed they'd all noticed.

‘Join me in my solar before you leave the keep, if you will?'

She rose then, as did everyone at the table, when the lady left. Others walked away then for all had duties to be seen to. With a word to Dougal that he would seek him out later, he followed his mother across the hall to the chamber she called hers. They entered and he waited until a servant poured wine into cups and served them before speaking.

‘How can I serve you, Mother?' he asked, taking a sip of the wine and taking note of the shelf of books there.

‘Tell me about this woman you have set up in the village,' she said. ‘I met her once under the worst circumstances.'

‘Why do you question this? I have had women in the past and you never raised a concern,' he said. Drinking some of the wine, he turned to face her.

‘You have never arranged a house for any of them. That speaks of an ongoing arrangement between the two of you,' she explained. ‘I am concerned because of the upcoming negotiations on your behalf.' The same issue his father had raised. When he began to say that, she held her hand up and waved him off.

‘More than that, it makes me ill to think you are preying on an unfortunate with no choice in the matter. Taking advantage of her misfortune after her husband's death to get her into your bed.'

‘What have I ever done that you would think me so cruel as that?' he asked. ‘What has Father said of the matter?' Anger at being characterised as someone low enough to do what she accused him of made his voice rise.

‘Your father said you are old enough to see to your own matters now.' His mother walked to the table and put the cup down.

So, his father had warned her off, yet she still meddled. That was a weakness of hers and one she would never change.

‘And yet you trust me not to see to them?' He placed his cup next to hers. ‘Be advised that the house I arranged is hers regardless of what happens between us. A settlement on behalf of her husband's service to Father will make certain she is never in poverty again. Does that satisfy your concerns, Mother?'

‘Sometimes we defend the actions we take because we know they were for the wrong reasons. Or we sense our own mistakes, but are not ready to acknowledge them,' she said quietly.

She approached him then, placing her hand on his arm.

‘Just have a care in this. You have a few choices to make in the coming months and I would not see her harmed because you mistook your father's assistance as permission.'

'Twas natural, he supposed, for his mother to worry over the women who lived in the keep or the village. As lady and countess, they were under her control and supervision. Well, usually 'twas only the women of the keep, but the Beast's mate had extended her control and he'd allowed it. Nothing about the MacLeries was done according to the usual custom of things.

He nodded. As he turned to leave, he caught sight of a book on her shelf there. An old one that he thought he remembered from his childhood. Filled with letters and stories and prayers, it had beautiful colours and images throughout its vellum pages.

‘May I borrow this?' he said, lifting the book from its place.

‘This is not what I would have expected you to borrow. Mayhap the book of battle strategies? Something about Carthage?'

‘'Tis not for me,' he said. ‘Catriona is learning her letters and numbers and I would share it with her.'

‘Take it then,' she said. He glanced again at his mother's face, for her voice had shaken then. ‘She can borrow another one if she would like.'

Aidan found a piece of oilcloth and wrapped the precious book in it to keep it safe. He had no doubt that Cat would enjoy seeing it. He kissed his mother's cheek as he left, deciding to see if Cat had gone to his cousin's after all.

If he realised that he'd almost never visited any of his previous bedmates during the day, he did not remember. And he did not see the shocked expression on his mother's face as he pulled the door closed.

* * *

Aidan arrived at Cat's house and tethered his horse outside her door. He heard no one moving about inside, so he went in and found it empty. She must be still at Ciara's or, more likely, at Muireall's, so he gently placed the book on the table and turned to leave. He smiled when he noticed the flower he'd pulled from beside the road now sitting in a cup of water there on the shelf above the hearth.

The softest snore echoed through the air, catching him unaware. Walking softly to the doorway, he found her curled up on the bed, sleeping. On her side, with one hand tucked under her face, she looked relaxed, though dark circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes. Had she slept the morning through then and not gone to Ciara's?

Nay, the gown she wore spoke of her dressing. The worn and dusty leather shoes by the bed told him she'd left the house. Some aromatic brew sat steeping near the fire, so he knew she'd had something to drink this morn. Walking to the pot and lifting the lid, he inhaled and recognised the smell of betony—his mother's favourite tea when she was aching or overwrought. He dropped the lid harder than he'd planned and he heard her stir behind him on the bed.

‘Aidan?' she said, her voice still thick with sleep. She pushed up on her elbow and ran her hand through her hair, dragging it out of her face.

And he wanted her. Now. Again and again.

In the dark of night. In the light of day. It mattered not.

He wanted her.

‘I did not mean to disturb your rest, Cat,' he said softly, trying to make himself believe the words as he uttered them. ‘Are you well?'

It had been cruel of him to keep her up through the night with little sleep, but, try as he might, he could not feel guilty about it. Part of him, the randy lad below his belt, urged him to take her now. He resisted, knowing she needed to rest if she was still abed. If not grief, then becoming accustomed to this new place, would keep her from resting well for some days.

The first step he took proved difficult, his cock hard and aching. Why could he not control this overpowering need for her? He'd lusted after many women, but this was something too strong, too different.

She pushed up to sit and let her legs slide over the edge of the bed. He swallowed hard as the skirt of her gown caught beneath her and exposed her shapely legs to him.

‘I pray you, pardon my laziness,' she said, standing next to the bed and pulling her shoes on. ‘I would have been ready to greet you, but I did not expect you until later.'

His pride swelled as she blushed then. She thought he'd arrive at night to bed her.

‘I doubt you have had a lazy day in your whole life,' he said, with a laugh. The dark, enigmatic expression that filled her gaze for only a moment surprised him. ‘I meant no insult by it, Cat. You answer to only yourself now, so if you are tired and sleep, so be it.'

‘I do not know how to be on my own, Aidan. I have always answered to someone else's demands on my time.'

‘Then you need to set things to be done on your own time. Your errands and chores are yours to command.' She studied him silently and he could have believed she agreed with him, save for her doubting expression. ‘If you would like, you can hire someone to help you. There is coin enough for that.'