Amanda Scott (30 page)

“I do,” Calder said. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a links hereabouts?”

“Aye, I do.” MacDrumin grinned. “Some complain about the trees, of course, but I think they add to the challenge. We’ll have a game when Ned—Rothwell, that is—gets here. He’s a dab hand with a golf club. Taught him myself.”

The conversation turned to other matters after that, and they managed to avoid controversial topics until Lady Maclean declared that she was going to bed. Bidding the gentlemen good-night, she took Diana and Kate up with her.

“Here is your bedchamber, my dear,” she said, opening a door at the end of a long corridor. “Where did you put Calder and Neil, Kate?”

“His lordship in the first room, near the stairway,” Kate said, gesturing, “and Neil is upstairs. Would you like a maidservant to attend you, Diana?”

“Thank you. I did not bring much with me, so if I am not soon going to look like something dragged through a hedge, perhaps I should give someone my things to wash and iron.”

An hour later, tucked into her comfortable bed with a small fire burning down to coals on the hearth, Diana found herself pondering the strong possibility that Calder might soon arrange for MacDrumin’s arrest. Despite the clear liking the two had for each other, she did not think Calder would ignore his clear obligation.

The law was strict, and even factors who were lax about the kilting law or the disarming were inflexible about duty. That was money owed to the Crown, and thus was a most serious matter. MacDrumin could go to prison for a long time.

She owed him much for hiding Lady Maclean from the same authorities who would put him in prison. Such a debt was too great to repay with mere thanks, and MacDrumin, though a cousin, was neither a Maclean nor a Stewart. He was chief of his own clan, related to Lady Maclean through two marriages. Moreover, Diana herself was to blame for Calder’s dangerous presence in Glen Drumin.

Somehow she would have to persuade him not to betray MacDrumin. Lying there, unable to sleep, she weighed the possibilities.

Calder had protected her more than once from the consequences of her actions and clearly was fond of her, though she did not think it was much more than that. No more than her feelings for him could be. That her heart pounded harder when he was nearby was unfortunate, since he was a Campbell born and bred. Had he been a member of any other clan …

But here her innate honesty stopped her thoughts. She could not finish one so patently untrue. When she was with him, nine times out of ten she forgot he was a Campbell. When he smiled at her, she nearly always wanted to smile back. The intense way he looked at her when she talked, as if whatever she was saying was of vast importance, made her feel the same as when the sun came out to lighten a gray day. Just the sound of his voice warmed her. A simple touch of his hand stimulated all sorts of unfamiliar sensations, and all those things acted to make her forget his antecedents. Remembering them now brought a lump of sadness to her throat.

Face to face with Black Duncan, she nearly always felt anger, resentment, and a strong urge to spit in his face, although she had never done such a vulgar thing in all her life. Just looking at Duncan made her want to defy him.

Red Colin affected her the same way, except that she felt more contempt for him. His mother was a Cameron, after all, and although a man took his father’s clan, not his mother’s, he ought to feel some connection to the latter. He certainly ought to have more sense than to serve the Duke of Argyll and the English government blindly. His mother certainly had taught him better than that as a child.

In contrast to her feelings about Duncan and Red Colin were her feelings for Calder. The first time she met him, she had felt a tug of familiarity, awareness of a bond between them. Something had drawn her to him, and invited her to trust him.

She had known, facing him in Edinburgh Castle prison, that he would not harm her. At Castle Stalker, though the first sight of him had filled her with fear, once she was face to face with him in his bedchamber, she had found herself trusting him again. She had never feared rape, although at the time, his position and her pretended one had made the possibility more than likely.

Remembering her feelings when he had told her he wanted his bed warmed, she felt herself blushing, wondering what it would have been like if she had simply obeyed him. She wondered, too, what would have happened if she had not knocked over the warming pan, if he had not burned himself, if she had not poured brandy all over him. He had cared more then for what Patrick Campbell would think were he to learn that Calder had
not
ravished her, than for his own needs and wishes. He had let her sleep, unmolested, by the fire.

Just thinking of that now sent tremors through her body.

Thoughts of his touch, his kisses, filled her mind, and she made no effort to repress them. Instead, she wondered if she could use her ability to stir his senses on MacDrumin’s behalf.

Hearing masculine laughter, she knew the men had come upstairs and were retiring to their bedchambers. Quick as thought, she got up and snatched up a plaid wool coverlet, draping it over her shoulders and clutching it tightly about her. Could she still trust him not to ravish her? She did not want that. She kept telling herself that she just wanted to use his interest in her to influence his actions. Would she have the nerve to approach him, she wondered, or would she prove a coward?

The maidservant Kate had provided had plaited her hair, and she paused long enough to brush the plaits into smooth ebony waves before moving to the door. Putting her ear against the wood, she listened but could hear nothing, and so she opened the door and peeped into the corridor. The glow of a lamp on the landing showed her that it was empty.

She had taken but three steps from her room when the door at the end opened and Thomas MacKellar came out, carrying a large ewer. Diana held her breath, but he did not look her way, turning instead toward the landing.

Barefoot, for she had brought no slippers, she hurried toward his lordship’s door, worried now that someone else might appear. Her attention fixed on her destination, she paid no more heed to Thomas until she reached the door. Then, and only then, did she remember that the stairway to the great hall doubled back upon itself. Looking that way, she saw Thomas descending, facing her. He was looking down, however, lost in thought, and she did not think he had seen her.

She rapped lightly, and then before her courage could abandon her, she lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

Calder looked up from a small table, where he sat writing. He frowned. “You should not be here, mistress.”

“It is not the first time I have been in your bedchamber, sir,” she reminded him. “I want to talk to you.”

“We should talk by daylight,” he said, getting to his feet with obvious reluctance. “Regardless of past moments between us, this is not seemly.”

“I don’t care,” she said, shutting the door. “What I came to say to you is important. I … I think you care a little for me, sir, and if that is so …” She let the words trail to silence, daring him to contradict her.

Looking rueful, he said, “Lass, just being near you makes me crazy. From our first meeting, my head has told me to do one thing, my heart another.”

“Your heart?” Her own pounded hard in her chest. She had not expected him to admit so much.

“Aye, my heart. Stay where you are, or I won’t answer for my actions. What would you demand of me now?”

Hesitating—for the suggestion that he could not control himself was flattering, and exciting as well—she said at last, “I don’t understand my feelings either, where you are concerned. One minute I can think clearly, the next not.”

“I know.” His voice was low in his throat, and again the sound of it stirred sensations in her body that were beginning to be familiar to her.

She stepped nearer. “Please, I want …” She hesitated again, watching him.

“Say my name, lass.”

“Lord Calder?”

“Nay, ’tis Rory. I would hear it from your lips.”

Certain now that she could persuade him to ignore what he knew about the laird’s illicit activities, Diana stepped nearer, releasing the tight hold she had kept on the coverlet draped around her. It fell open, revealing her lawn shift. Reaching toward him tentatively, she said, “Rory … please, sir, I would beg a boon of thee.”

He caught her hand in his, pulling it hard against his chest, holding her gaze with his own, his eyes like silver fire, his lips parted as if he anticipated kissing her. It was what she had wanted to see, but now, instead of feeling only satisfaction at her success, she felt a sense of confident expectation that threatened to overwhelm her. Nearly forgetting her purpose, she turned her face up to his, her lips parting in invitation as heat raced through her veins.

His lips claimed hers without further ado, burning with pent-up passion, his mouth hot against hers. She could hear his breath rasping in his throat, and when he released her hand to embrace her, she sighed with pleasure, pressing closer, paying no heed when he brushed the plaid coverlet aside impatiently.

“We’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “Are you certain you want this?”

She moaned in response, trying to think but unable to cool her passions enough to do so. Perhaps she had drunk too much of MacDrumin’s potent whisky, but she did not think so. It was not whisky that stirred her. It was Calder … Rory. In her mind, she saw the Gaelic spelling of his name,
Ruairidh.
The letters seemed to be outlined in flames, and those flames warmed her to her soul.

He kissed her harder, and then she felt his tongue parting her lips to explore the interior of her mouth. Her breasts seemed to swell, and she felt the hardness of his body against hers. Her shift was thin, making it feel almost as if his hands touched bare flesh.

“By my faith, what have we here? Fine goings-on, I must say!”

Startled, they jumped apart and turned as one to face MacDrumin. Neither of them had heard the door open, but clearly it had, for the laird stood framed on the threshold with his hands on his hips and his feet apart, looking grim. Behind him, Thomas MacKellar stood on tiptoe, peering over his shoulder, his expression a mask of astonished amusement.

Before Diana could think of a word to say, Rory said calmly, “We were discussing marriage, sir, that’s all.”

R
ORY MET MACDRUMIN’S STERN
gaze calmly, but in his mind’s eye he was seeing Argyll’s face. Surprisingly, he experienced a sense of steadiness, as if he had made an important decision, and more than that, a good decision. A glow radiated through him. Then he looked at Diana.

That his words had stunned her was evident. That she intended to conceal her astonishment was equally evident. He saw her swallow and bend down to pick up the plaid coverlet she had worn over her thin nightdress. For the first time he noted that she was barefoot, and he wondered if she was cold.

MacDrumin said evenly, “Marriage, is it?”

“Aye,” Rory said, taking the coverlet from her and draping it gently over her shoulders. “Sit on that stool by the fire, lass. You’ll catch your death.” Turning back to MacDrumin, he added, “We’ve made no decision, but the subject came up.”

“I’ll warrant it did.” MacDrumin chuckled. “You’re a bold lad, my lord, to think you can cozen her ladyship into favoring a Campbell husband for her daughter, but you’re a grand sight bolder to trifle with the lass here in your bedchamber, and then only
think
about wedding with her.”

“Did you have a purpose in coming here, sir?” Rory asked with one eye on Diana, who had flushed deeply at the laird’s words.

“Oh, aye. You said you like to play golf, and knowing you would not have clubs with you, I came to say you can have a look at mine tomorrow, and see what will suit you. I’ve quite a good collection. Played for the silver club at Leith, I have, and I go out with the Burgess in Edinburgh whenever I get to the city.”

“I’ll warrant then that you’re a better player than I am, sir.”

“Oh, I’m a dab hand, I am. Taught Ned to play just so I could get a game in now and again here in the glen. On the whole, the English don’t ken what they’re missing, but folk hereabouts don’t play much either. I’d suggest we play tomorrow, but the parson would have a fit and all if we did, so we’ll wait till Monday.”

Still keeping a close eye on Diana, Rory agreed, then said pointedly that he would take a look at the laird’s clubs the next day.

MacDrumin did not stir from his place by the door. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he looked at Rory again. A twinkle lit his eyes as he said, “Am I to understand then, lad, that you have promised to marry the lass?”

Wondering why he felt no sense of entrapment, since he understood MacDrumin’s meaning perfectly, Rory said calmly, “I am quite willing to make such a promise, yes.”

MacDrumin chuckled again, then said to Diana, “From what your mam tells me, lass, you’ve a devilish unfeminine habit of taking matters into your own hands. Still, your father’s dead and in his grave, and that brother of yours don’t know how to take you in hand. Moreover, I am that road myself, so I’ve naught to say. I’ll just take myself off now and let the pair of you sort it out.” He glanced at Rory, then back at her, adding with his impudent twinkle, “I’m thinking you may have broken off more of the loaf than you can chew, lad.”

When MacDrumin had gone, Diana drew a deep breath, clutched the coverlet closer around her, and forced herself to look directly at Rory. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought he would send me back to my bedchamber, but he didn’t. And why did you say you would marry me? You need not do so, you know. We have done nothing to necessitate so drastic a course, even if our families would allow it.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. Then, clearly choosing his words with care, he said, “MacDrumin left so we could get on with the second part of what he thinks he interrupted.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand, sir. I wish you will speak plainly.”

“I will then. It’s a matter of law, sweetheart. Scottish law allows several forms of marriage thought unusual in other countries, especially England. But half a century ago, when they created the Union, the English agreed to recognize all Scottish marriages.”