Highland Heat (23 page)

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t wise up.

***

Deirdre had decided she detested horses.

Or at least riding them.

Two days later, she was close to attempting to kill the Earl of Douglas if the man didn’t end their journey. Of course, the retainers who rode with him would no doubt make that task impossible, but her temper burned hot enough to make her think about it.

At last, Restalrig came into sight. She’d only heard about it from those who went to court to serve the queen. Her father had forbidden such a service, believing the court to be a den of vipers and sin that would corrupt her.

Melor Douglas had been raised at court, so she found herself agreeing with her father.

The towers of the fortress rose several stories into the air, with thick walls enclosing them. The village was built up around it into what was more of a city. Merchants had signs hanging above their doors to advertise their wares. Wagons pulled around corners to make way for the earl’s men, and people leaned out of upper-floor windows to watch them as they passed.

The earl didn’t stop but rode straight through the gates of his castle, taking her along with him.

Deirdre growled. Locked within another stone fortress. It was vexing enough to kill her. But at least she was able to slide from the back of her mare. She gave the creature a kind pat for the service it had given her, but she admitted that she was happy to be standing on her feet.

Maybe her stomach would settle now, but it was unlikely, considering how dire her circumstances were. She couldn’t seem to recall what it felt like to be at ease, without tension knotting her shoulders and making them ache.

“Welcome to Restalrig.”

Deirdre turned around to discover a huge man standing behind her.

“I’m Troy Douglas, and me uncle has charged me with yer care, Mistress Chattan.”

He didn’t sound any more pleased with the task than she liked hearing it. He had dark hair and green eyes. He grinned when she stared at his eyes.

“Got those from me mother; she was Irish. Which accounts for why she named me Troy; the Irish have a whimsical nature, and my father was infatuated with her.”

Troy extended his arm. Deirdre sighed but began walking, because the idea of being forced into the tower disgusted her.

“My uncle claims ye have a way of slipping out of castles without being noticed.” Troy offered her a hard look. “That will nae be happening here, for I have no intention of having to tell me uncle ye are missing.”

“Of course no’. I am, after all, a person of such importance.”

Troy laughed, his face splitting with a smile that made him quite handsome. “Well now. We cannae be arguing with what the earl wants.”

Deirdre scoffed at him. “I’ve argued with the place one earl put me in, and I will no’ hesitate to do the same with yer uncle.”

“I’m beginning to understand why my uncle told me to see to ye.”

Troy took her deeper into the castle and then up a set of steps built against one of the walls that enclosed it.

“I personally have no liking for locking a woman up who has committed no crime, but I must obey me uncle.”

Deirdre froze, unable to force herself to continue walking toward another cell. “Where are ye taking me?”

Troy stopped, distaste evident on his face. “No place as bad as what ye are thinking.”

But she would be going to wherever he was intent on taking her. She could see the resignation in his eyes. She forced her feet to begin moving once more, but her neck felt like there was a noose around it.

“This is the countess’s solar and gardens. She is nae at Restalrig , so ye may reside here, providing ye do nae destroy her finery.” Troy offered her a hard look. “I’d have to rethink me kindness if ye did that sort of thing.”

“I am nae a child who needs lectures on her behavior,” Deirdre growled at him.

The brute only laughed in response. “Oh, I’ve noticed ye are a woman grown. Have no doubt about that.”

He winked at her before turning to leave. The snort she let out only ensured that the last sound she heard from the man was his chuckling.

Deirdre turned to face another solar. It was grand and furnished with finery, but she didn’t care for it. Instead, she discovered herself longing for the one in the eagle tower. Everything in front of her appeared gaudy by comparison.

But there was an open door on the far side. She walked toward it, curious as to why she had not been shut in. Beyond the doorway, she could smell rosemary and heather. There was another door set into the wall, but it was closed. A set of narrow stone steps led upward, and she climbed them, to discover herself on the top of one of the square towers.

It had been transformed into a garden. Plants grew in planter boxes, and there were even two large trees in the center, providing shade to a pair of benches placed there. She went to the edge, where there was a four-foot wall to keep anyone from stepping over the edge. It was a sheer drop down to the yard below, nothing but smooth stone.

Two birds sang from somewhere in the tree, making her turn around and face the garden once more. It was like a dream—a place of beauty and tranquility hidden inside her imagination, in spite of all the reality that surrounded her.

“My wife insisted on having this built.”

Deirdre jumped and stumbled into the wall that edged the garden; Archibald Douglas laughed and pointed at the wall.

“I made sure that was included so no one would fall off.”

He walked into the garden and sat down, looking haggard. She stared at the lines marking his forehead and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Age is a bitch that I hate,” he announced bluntly. “Much like the choices that are needed to build empires.”

“Is that what ye’re doing by keeping me here, building yer empire?” she asked.

Something flashed in his eyes. “Exactly.” He grunted, but it was more a sound of approval than annoyance. “I told Laird Hay that ye were a rare woman. Ye’re clever.”

“If I were clever, as ye say, I’d never have fallen for yer nephew’s lies.”

The earl shook his head, but a look of longing appeared in his eyes that silenced her.

“We were all innocent once, lass.” His words were edged with regret. “Now ye understand what the world is really like. Some crumble when they get kicked in the jaw, but others pick themselves up and become stronger. They take the sting and pain and use them to fortify themselves.”

There was a glow of appreciation in his eyes that sent prickles of nervousness through her. He was the sort of man who kept what he liked, and she’d rather have his disgust than impress him enough to be of interest to him.

“I want to leave this fortress.” Deirdre stepped forward. If he was going to admire her strength, maybe she’d get what she asked for.

He grinned at her. “I see why Quinton likes ye.”

“He does nae like me much at all.” The words were past her lips before she thought about them. A sudden protective urge took control of her, and the way the earl was watching her doubled it.

“Ye’re the first woman he’s called mistress since his bride ran off six years ago. I recall it well ye know. Mary Ross had his heart in her little hand, and she crushed it in front of all for a man who had an older title than Quinton’s. Mary is quite the cunning little bitch. Her husband is old enough to be her grandfather, but she spreads her thighs for him because of the connections it brings to her kin. I wonder if ye are nae very much like her, enticing Quinton to make amends with yer father. Ye might be worth a great deal to the man.”

Fear clenched her belly as a gleam entered the earl’s eyes. Six years was a very long time for a man as powerful as Quinton to have avoided finding another bride with a dowry and connections. She couldn’t help but feel complimented, even if her pride still smarted at being called a mistress. But she was sickened by the greed flickering in Archibald Douglas’s eyes. She’d never thought to be used against Quinton, and she hated the man in front of her for making it plain that he would use her to press Quinton.

Well, she wouldn’t let that happen without a fight. Deirdre scoffed at the Earl of Douglas.

“Ye’re going to be disappointed. The gossips at Drumdeer can say what they will. That doesn’t mean those words came out of Quinton Cameron’s mouth.”

Archibald snickered at her.

“I know what he said. I make it my business to know everything about my fellow earl, and I trust me sources. Quinton is a powerful man, and any woman who can snare his attention is worth having in my possession if I’m lucky enough to come across her.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! I am no’ Quinton’s mistress just because he said such a thing. I’ll be the one deciding if I’m any man’s mistress. Make no mistake about that.” She tossed her head. “I sneaked out of his castle after he said that, so think on that before ye decide I’m his woman. No man likes it to be known that a woman left him, especially an earl. I wager he’s thinking he’s well rid of me.”

“I bet he’ll be riding up here to see what it will cost him to have me give ye to him. That’s the only reason I’m even waiting on deciding what to do with ye. Quinton has many things that I want.”

The earl’s words were hard and sharp, just like the look in his eyes. He’d order her throat slit if it brought him enough gain. Even seeing that truth didn’t make her cower. She lifted her chin and stared straight at him. If she was going to die, she’d face her fate with courage.

The earl pointed at her and stood up. “That’s exactly why I think I’m right. Ye’re fearless, just like he is. Melor does nae deserve ye, because he was too blinded by his lust to no’ see that wedding ye would have been a better strike against the Lindsey than just taking yer virginity.”

“I should no’ have even given him that.”

The earl snorted with amusement. “But ye did, and the fact that Quinton still wanted ye tells me he will be riding up here to negotiate with me. He’s interested in ye, and no’ just the things that would come with contracting ye through yer father. That’s why I took ye from Laird Hay. I’m going to wait a bit to see if Quinton comes for ye.”

The earl became silent, contemplating her from narrowed eyes.

“And if he does nae?” she demanded. It might not have been the wisest thing to ask, but her temper refused to allow her to accept his treating her like a thing to be traded for his personal gain.

“Ye’re still Chattan’s eldest daughter. Ye have uses. I just need to decide which is best for me.”

“My dowry went to the church, because Connor Lindsey took my sister Brina, who was promised to it.”

The earl shrugged. “And ye think that will stop me from having it back if I wed ye to one of me kin? The church knows that maintaining balance with the right men is essential to its survival, Deirdre Chattan. They’d give me compensation. I’ve no doubt about that. But I’ll be waiting to see what I can get from Quinton first.”

“It will be naught. He will nae come for me; he has too much pride to chase a woman who scorned the place he offered her.”

She fired her words at the earl’s back. He didn’t turn around but continued walking until he disappeared down the steps. She heard the door at the bottom open after he pounded on it and then close.

Quinton couldn’t come for her—he mustn’t.

She covered her mouth, her knees refusing to hold her up as horror flooded her. Pain slashed across her heart as she faced the terrible reality of what escaping Quinton might mean. The Earl of Douglas might even kill him once he was inside the walls of Restalrig. It wouldn’t be the first time some powerful laird had died while sleeping beneath the roof of another powerful laird. Too much of history was written in the blood of those who were murdered so another family might rise to power.

“
Do nae come…
”

She whispered the words, and it felt like they were branded into her soul. But her heart hoped that he would.

And that sent tears down her cheeks.

***

Quinton cursed and then cursed some more. The door hit the wall because his men entered his study so fast. Coalan looked around, searching for any threat before he abandoned the fighting stance he’d taken.

“That limp-cock bastard Douglas has her!” Quinton crumpled the letter in his hand and threw it violently across the room.

“That son of a mongrel bitch is waiting to see what I will give him for her!”

Coalan picked up the letter and placed it back on Quinton’s desk. “I’ll tell the boys to make ready to ride.”

“I did nae tell ye to do that.” Quinton was snarling, but Coalan faced him with a calm expression that only infuriated him more. “What makes ye think I’m going up to Restalrig?”

“The look on yer face,” Coalan announced. “My laird.”

He pulled on the corner of his bonnet and headed for the door. Quinton felt like the man had delivered a solid punch to his unprotected belly. He sat back, trying to breathe while his men left.

The letter remained, and Quinton ground his teeth as he stared at it.

Damn Douglas for the bastard he was, and damn himself for a fool the pain in his chest declared him to be.

Not since Mary Ross had shown her true colors had he felt even a twinge from his heart. He swore again. Viciously and long. Mary Ross, with her perfect face and delicate body, had enthralled him. He’d set eyes on her, and she’d begun a dance that kept him mesmerized by her charms.

It had never crossed his mind that her mother might have taught her every trick known to womankind to snare him. He’d been grateful after she’d run away from him, and determined never to let a woman control him again.

The letter refused to be dismissed. It drew his attention like an open flame.

Just like Deirdre…

Her face haunted him, as did the scent of her hair. He found it hard to look at the eagle tower now and swore every time he awoke in the middle of the night searching for her.

Damn him for a fool.

He stood and grabbed his sword. He was going. Coalan was right, and that pissed him off too, but he crossed the room and threw the door open. Coalan already had the Cameron retainers assembling. They did it with the swiftness he expected of his Highlanders. Coalan stood, looking too sure of himself, or at least too confident for Quinton’s unstable emotions.