The Intended (49 page)

Joanna glided silently down through the
kitchen, and then paused with a sigh by a locked larder. The gentle
nudge of the dog’s nose against her hip made the young woman’s
heart leap in her chest. Shaking her head as the corners of her
mouth lifted in a wry smile, she crouched down to pet the gentle
beast. All the dogs in the castle were quite accustomed to her, but
shaggy Max was the only one that ever came to her. Accepting a wet
kiss on the chin, Joanna gave the dog’s head an affectionate pat.
Wordlessly, she straightened and continued her search for more
food.

The heavenly smells of bannocks and roasted
mutton still hung in the air, making her mouth water, but to her
dismay there was nothing else left over that she could find. High
in the rafters, she could see the dark shapes of smoked meat, but
she didn’t dare be so bold as to steal anything that would raise a
hue and cry. Hearing Max sniffing in a dark corner, Joanna spotted
two balls of cheese hanging from strings on a high pegboard, just
out of the dog’s reach. Gratified at the chance to add something
different to her spare diet, she reached for them.

“I am certainly sorry you’ll have to shoulder
the blame for both of these,” she whispered with a smile to the
happy dog. “But you can only have one.” Rolling his share playfully
along the stone floor, Joanna placed the other in the pocket of her
cloak.

The dog leapt across the kitchen after it,
but suddenly stopped short, and the deep growl emanating from his
throat sent Joanna scurrying for cover. Quietly, she moved into the
deep shadows behind the giant fireplace, to the narrow door that
led down into the root cellars. From there she could get into the
labyrinth of passages beneath the castle, but she paused for a
moment, her hand on the panel, ready to run if the need arose.

“What are you hiding there, you mangy cur?”
The man’s voice was deep and strangely gentle. “Just you and the
hearth fairy, eh?”

Joanna pressed her face against the warm
stone of the chimney as she listened. From the dog’s friendly
panting and the man’s deep-throated chuckle, she could tell the
newcomer had already won over the animal’s affection.

“Och, I can see already you are in for
trouble. A thief you are, is that it? A piece of cheese. A capital
crime, if that cook finds out, lad. Hmm. I’ll not throw it for you,
you slobbering beast.”

Joanna knew she should go, but she couldn’t.
Curiosity was pulling at her, driving her with a desire to put a
face to that voice.

“So, you want to play! You want me to chase
you, is that it?”

He had to be one of the new laird’s men. She
could imagine him leaning against the edge of the long heavy table
in the center of the kitchen.

“‘Tis too late in the night, you beast. Very
well. Bring it here, and I’ll throw it for you. But once only, do
you hear me?”

The dog’s low-pitched growl was now playful,
and again the man’s deep chuckle brought a smile to her face.

“Smart too. For a Highland cur!”

So they’re Lowlanders, she thought. Scowling
now, Joanna edged forward slightly and peeked at the man in the dim
light of the dying fire. Just as she had imagined it, he was
sitting on the edge of the table with his back to her. At the
moment, he was preoccupied with wrenching the ball of cheese out of
Max’s mouth.

“Now, don’t force me to get rough with
you!”

She studied his broad shoulders. The warrior
was larger, by far, than any of the men her father had kept in his
service. The red of his tartan was muted and dark. As he stood up
for a moment, she drew back, but he only crouched over the dog
again. He was certainly a giant, and not just for a Lowlander. His
long dark hair was tied with a thong at the nape of a strong neck.
In wrestling with the dog, he turned his face, and she got a quick
glimpse of his handsome profile. Suddenly, she was aware of a
strange tightening in her chest. Drawing back further, she felt her
face flush with heat. What was wrong with her? she thought,
fighting for a breath.

What did it matter that the man was handsome,
she thought with annoyance. What difference did that make to her, a
ghost! In the dark of the kitchens, it was easy to let imagination
control reality. In the light of day, he might be the ugliest man
in Scotland, though she would never see it. Darkness. Perhaps it
was the place for both of them, she thought angrily. Who knows, in
the gloom of this chamber, he might not even see her deformities.
Bringing a shaking hand up before her eyes, she gazed at it
momentarily, and then pulled her hood forward over her face.

Nay, no one was that blind.

“As your laird, I order you to share that
cheese. Och, you are a pig. You’ve eaten it all.”

Laird! Quickly, Joanna drew back behind the
hearth. Her face grim, she slipped through the panel and into the
blackness of the passageway. Feeling her way down the stone steps,
she continued past the wooden door that led into the root cellars.
Silently, she made her way through the winding, narrow passages,
down more carved stone steps, and through wide, cavernous openings
until she was far from the kitchens. Climbing to the top of another
set of steps, Joanna stopped, trying to catch her breath, and
leaned back heavily against a rough-hewn wall.

Laird! She wished she had never laid eyes on
him. It would be ever so much easier to mourn his death if she’d
never seen him. The poor soul, she thought, starting to move
quickly along the tunnel again. He wouldn’t have a chance against
the evil that surrounded him.