The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (51 page)

Rob MacAulay easily conquered his amusement. The Lady Muriella had matured in the year since he had last seen her and was more beautiful than ever, even with her fine flaxen hair in untidy loose plaits and her skirts kilted up to reveal that her shapely lower legs and bare feet were mud-spattered. He had not recognized her when he had first seen her that morning and had followed her only because he thought it reckless for any young lass to be wandering alone on such unpredictable terrain.

In truth, she would make some man an enviable wife one day. If he had the slightest inclination to assume the burden of a wife, he might be interested himself, although she would present a challenge for any man who tried to domesticate her. It was no business of his, though. The only thing that concerned him was that she was either unaware of the danger she had been in or dangerously indifferent to it.

Speaking as evenly as he had from the start, he said, “I seem to have offended you. That was not my intent. People do speak of the MacFarlan sisters, though, and when they mention you, they talk of your fine memory and your love of folklore and tales of Scotland’s heroes. Forbye,
since you have such a good memory, I suspect that you remember me quite well, do you not?”

“If you know who I am, then you should behave more courteously.”

Glancing at the too-interested boy, Rob said quietly, “If you would like to throw a stick for Scàthach, lad, she will be delighted to accept your friendship. She has not had much exercise yet today, so you’d be doing me a good turn, as well.”

“Aye, sure,” the lad replied, grinning. Unstringing his bow, he rested it against a tree, quickly found a suitable stick, and heaved it away from the trees.

Scàthach chased it eagerly up the slope, tossed it high and caught it, then turned back. When the boy dashed off to meet her and throw the stick again, Rob said to her ladyship, “You do know that you were in danger up there, do you not?”

“If you know who I am, why do you not address me properly?”

“Because you are not behaving much like a lady just now,” he said.

Flushing scarlet, she gave him a look he was sure she thought ought to wither him where he stood. Her expressive sky-blue eyes flashed sparks, and her kissable pink mouth opened as if she meant to give him a piece of her mind. But she shut it again without saying a word.

Then, when he remained silent, having no reason to say more than he had, she drew a deep breath and said, “You have not changed a whit since last year.”

“So you do remember me.”

“Aye, sure, I do. You are Master Robert MacAulay of
Ardincaple. You came here last year with Ian. I did not think then that you were rude, just a bit tiresome.”

“And now you think I am rude. Why?”

She rolled her eyes as if his rudeness ought to be self-evident.

He glanced toward the boy, saw that his attention was wholly on the dog, and returned his own to the undeniably tempting but perilously naïve Lady Muriella. “Are you going to answer my question, lass? If you expect me to read your mind when you roll your eyes like that, you will soon learn that I dislike guessing games. If you want me to know what you think, you must tell me.”

“I think that I do not want to talk to you anymore. In troth, since no one invited you here, I think you should go home.”

“What makes you think no one invited me?”

Try though she did, Muriella could get no more than that out of the man. When she asked him if her father
had
invited him or even knew that he was on Tùr Meiloach land, Robert MacAulay said only, “You will have to ask Andrew Dubh.”

Irritated, and with curiosity aflame, she said, “If you will not talk to me, I see no reason to talk to you. You may therefore go where you will, but you should know that I mean to tell my father that you are roaming about on our land.”

“You may certainly tell him that,” MacAulay said. “Be sure that you also tell him where you were and that Dougal MacPharlain was on his land, too.”

Tossing her head a little, she said, “I have no reason to say that Dougal was there. I did not see him.”

“The boy did, though, and so did I,” MacAulay said. “You would be wiser, I think, to tell your father about Dougal before one of us does. For now, I will see you safely back to Tùr Meiloach, since you won’t promise to return on your own.”

“Would you believe me if I did promise?” she asked.

“Should I?”

Muriella hesitated. Something about Master Robert MacAulay suggested that lying to him might be a mistake.

Meeting his gaze, she saw to her consternation that a knowing twinkle lurked in the green depths of his eyes.

Her temper bristled. “I expect that even if I did promise, you would follow me to be sure I went home.”

“I expect I would, at that,” he admitted. “I do not know you well enough yet to know whether you keep your promises.” With that, he gave a low whistle, and Scàthach dropped the stick she was carrying and loped to his side.

Pluff followed more slowly. “Be we a-going back then?” he asked.

“We are,” MacAulay said. He waited only until Pluff had collected his bow and quiver, before gesturing for Muriella to lead the way.

Tempted though she was to press him for more information, she had seen enough of him to suspect that such pressure would be useless, so she strode on ahead of them. When they reached the tower gate, a guard opened it at once, but MacAulay showed no inclination to enter. He merely nodded for Muriella to do so.

“Will you not come inside with us then?”

“I have no reason now to seek out Andrew Dubh. But do not disappoint me, lass. Tell him that Dougal was on his land.”

Giving him a slight smile in response, and relieved that he had not reminded her to tell her father where
she
had been, Muriella passed through the gateway with dignity. When Pluff followed her, however, she said firmly, “You go and ask MacNur if he has tasks for you. I will talk with my lord father alone.”

“Aye, sure,” Pluff said, turning back to wave at MacAulay and Scàthach.

Deciding that since Robert MacAulay had left her little choice, she would see her father at once, Muriella went in search of him and found him at the high table in the great hall, talking with his steward, Malcolm Wylie.

In his fiftieth year, Andrew Dubh MacFarlan was still a fit warrior with only specks of gray in his dark hair. More gray showed in his bushy eyebrows, but the dark blue eyes beneath them shifted alertly at his youngest daughter’s approach.

“May I have a word with you, sir?” she asked, making her curtsy.

Andrew smiled then and said, “Aye, sure, lassie, whenever ye like.”

Muriella glanced at Malcolm, who said, “I must speak wi’ that young gillie, m’lord, but I’ll be within hail.”

Nodding, Andrew gestured to the stool beside him. “What is it, lass?”

Sitting on the stool, she said, “I met Master Robert MacAulay on the northeast slope, sir. Did you know that he has been wandering about on our land?”

“D’ye think I dinna ken who’s here at Tùr Meiloach, Murie-lass?”

“Usually you do,” she said, nodding. “But I should tell you that Master Robert and our Pluff both said they
had seen Dougal MacPharlain near the northeast pass, on our side of it.” Pleased with the way she had phrased that information, she was nonetheless relieved when Andrew simply nodded in response.

“One o’ the lads said he’d seen Dougal there,” he said. “Doubtless he seeks to know if we’re awake or asleep. But Rob will likely tell me more of him anon.”

“Why is he here?”

“For reasons of his own,” Andrew said. “Mag said that Rob had been seeking solitude, so Mag suggested that, whilst he and Andrena are away to Ayrshire, Rob might look after the wee cottage they’ve built for themselves.”

Muriella knew that the cottage was empty, since Andrena and Mag had gone to Dumbarton to show off their new wee bairn to her sister Lina and Sir Ian. They would then visit Mag’s two older sisters and their husbands in Ayreshire.

Thinking of her two sisters and their husbands stirred a new thought in her agile mind. “You are not thinking of arranging a marriage between me and Master Robert MacAulay such as the ones you arranged for Dree and Lina, are you, sir?”

“Ye needna fret, lassie, for I did offer just such a union to the man last year when he was here with Ian,” Andrew replied. “He turned me down flat.”

Stupefied, Muriella exclaimed, “But why? What’s wrong with me?”

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