Highland Storms (14 page)

Marsaili was sure her face turned bright pink at this reminder of her ungraciousness during their first meeting. The teasing glint in his eyes didn’t help either. He knew he was discomfiting her and he was doing it on purpose.
The scoundrel!
But she wasn’t really angry with him and had to hide a smile. ‘Only because it was laundry day,’ she defended herself. ‘Any other time, you’ve only to ask.’

‘
That’s good to know.’ He changed the subject. ‘You’re up early too,’ he commented. ‘Should you be out here all alone? You might be abducted by a kelpie.’

‘
What nonsense. And I have Liath to protect me. Although …’ She turned an accusing eye on the hound who’d come to lie next to her, wagging his tail furiously at the laird. He hadn’t given her any warning that anyone was approaching. She sighed. ‘It would seem he’s not much use where you are concerned,’ she admitted.

Brice’s smile widened and he reached out to rub the dog’s head. ‘That’s because he’s a clever fellow who knows you’ve got nothing to fear from me.’ Liath took the opportunity to lick his arm, as if confirming this.

‘
Hmph.’ Marsaili didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed with his assertion. On the one hand, she should feel reassured if the laird had no designs on her virtue, but on the other … She felt her cheeks heat up again as her brain refused to continue that line of thought. So the man was handsome, what of it? There were many others like him and she was better off without a husband. She’d seen the way her mother was treated when she finally married someone. It had been hell.

Besides, a man like Brice Kinross would never be interested in marrying a servant, even a high-ranking one. No doubt his parents would choose him a bride from among their rich acquaintance. The most he’d want from Marsaili would be a tumble in the hay. And tempting as that might seem when she glanced at his gilded chest yet again, it wasn’t worth the consequences. As her mother had also found to her cost.

She’d do well to stay away from his lordship altogether.

Dear God, but his eyes are so blue! You could drown in them …

Brice couldn’t take his eyes off the woman this morning. He didn’t know why, but somehow she seemed different today. Softer and more vulnerable. Or perhaps the long swim in the lake had relaxed him and mellowed his mood.

He took in the glorious hair, a riot of honey, gold and copper curls, mixed with hints of ochre and flame. He had never seen hair like that before and he’d been wrong to dismiss it as plain ‘red’. It was no such thing. It was beginning to glint in the sun where a few wisps were drying in the morning breeze. A large part of it was still wet and tangled, however, and she was plying her comb as they spoke. Not an easy task, judging by the occasional tightening of her mouth as she fought to pull the comb through the long tresses.

That mouth was generous, but not overly so, with a dimple to one side. He’d only glimpsed it when she smiled at something Kirsty said the night before. So far she hadn’t smiled much around him, which was understandable, he supposed. The sun had only tanned her skin a little, mostly it was creamy and flawless. And those green eyes of hers seemed more vivid outdoors than inside the gloomy rooms of Rosyth House.

Without asking her leave, he hoisted himself onto the jetty beside her and held out a hand. ‘Here, give me the comb and let me help you or you’ll never finish.’

She turned a startled gaze on him and he heard her draw in a sharp breath. ‘What? No! I mean, you can’t …’

‘
Of course I can. I have four younger sisters. You’ll see, I’m a dab hand at disentangling stubborn knots.’

‘
Four?’ She looked at his outstretched hand and hesitated, then put the comb in it. He closed his fingers around both the comb and her hand for a moment and her eyes flew to his once more. He felt a surge of desire shooting through him, but suppressed it. She was promised elsewhere and she’d made it quite clear during his last visit that she wasn’t interested in being propositioned. He didn’t want to scare her away. Not just yet.

‘
Turn around and I’ll soon have your elf-locks sorted out,’ he ordered, and she did as she was told.

‘
What do you know about elf-locks?’ she muttered.

‘
Only that they’re very tangled, but beautiful nonetheless,’ he replied.

He began to comb out her hair, working methodically the way she’d done herself. The only difference was he could do it faster, since he didn’t have to do it by touch. He found that he liked handling her hair. Even when wet it was silky and smooth, and the colour continued to astound him as more of it dried. From where he sat, he also had a perfect view over her shoulder into her loosely fastened bodice. The top half of the perfect curves which were displayed made his fingers itch to reach around her and touch them for himself. Again, he resisted.

‘
I see you’re a practical woman,’ he commented.

‘
How so?’ Her voice sounded slightly dreamy, as though she was enjoying having her hair combed.

‘
You wear a bodice which is fastened at the front so you don’t need anyone’s help to don it. A shame, I could have acted as your lady’s maid.’

She sent him a suspicious glance over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. ‘And I suppose you’re well versed in that skill as well, what with all those sisters?’

He grinned at her. ‘Of course. Where else would I have learned?’

She snorted. ‘Where else indeed. Do you take me for a complete fool, my lord?’

‘
Call me Brice, please. At least when no one else is around. All this lord business still sounds strange to me. I’ve been plain Brice or Mr Kinross all my life until now.’

‘
But that would be … improper.’

She was still looking at him and bit her lip. He had a sudden urge to bite it himself, or nibble the soft flesh at any rate.

‘
No,’ he said, ‘it would be a kindness.’

‘
Hmm, perhaps I will then.’

He finished the last tress and pulled the comb through her hair from the crown of her head down past her nicely rounded
derrière
onto the jetty. ‘There, all done.’ He couldn’t resist picking a handful up and inhaling the flowery scent. ‘Mmm, lovely. What did you put on it?’

She pulled the hair gently out of his grasp. ‘Really, my … Brice, you shouldn’t do that. And it’s a mixture of heather and lavender soap which Flora made, if you must know.’

She was blushing and he realised for the first time that Elisabet had never done so even once when he paid her compliments. She’d always taken them as her due and just thanked him prettily. It made him wonder whether his father had been right after all. Had Elisabet ever loved him? Cared about his compliments? Perhaps he just hadn’t understood this before. He shook himself mentally.

Forget Elisabet. She’s irrelevant. Concentrate on enjoying life, living for the moment.
But it wasn’t easy. Still, he had to try so he pushed all thoughts of her away.

Marsaili was gathering up her things and he jumped off the jetty into the water to stand in front of her again. ‘Wait there,’ he said, ‘and I’ll fetch my drying cloth so I can escort you back to the house.’

‘
It’s not necessary. I have Liath.’

‘
Ah, but has he ever chased away a kelpie? You’ve no idea how he’d react to one.’

A gurgle of laughter escaped her and she shook her head at him. ‘You’re quite mad, you know. Either that, or you’re still drunk from last night.’

He laughed too. ‘Neither. Now stay put, that’s an order from your laird.’

‘
Yes, master,’ she replied sarcastically, but when he returned from fetching his drying cloth, which he’d left on a stone further down the shore, she was still there.

He held out his arm and bowed, as if he was a gallant escorting his lady to a ball. She smiled, but shook her head. ‘Come Liath,’ she told the dog. ‘I’m not walking anywhere with this madman on my own.’

Liath obeyed, but only after Brice started walking.

‘
Good dog,’ Brice said with a chuckle.

Colin Seton didn’t live in the big house. As factor, he had his own house in the township, although it was larger than any of the others with a stone flagged floor and proper furniture. That suited him fine. He barely noticed his surroundings in any case. His mind was always focused on the future, when he’d be the laird of Bailliebroch and in possession of a huge estate with suitable dwelling. The fact that there wasn’t much left of his former home didn’t daunt him – he’d soon have it rebuilt. He remembered every last detail of its architecture and had no doubt he’d be able to recreate it.

But it required money and his scheme for obtaining enough of that seemed to be going awry. He clenched his fists as he walked towards the entrance to the courtyard on his way to the estate office. Something had to be done about the new laird, that was for sure. His mere presence stopped Seton from achieving anything.

His brows lowered even further as he remembered the slight he’d received the night before. To put his own son higher up the table than himself, it was the outside of enough. The boy wasn’t even formally betrothed to the penniless girl he coveted. Seton had hoped that by delaying matters, he’d be able to talk Iain out of it altogether, but his son had proved surprisingly stubborn. Well, perhaps Seton would have to put up with Kirsty as a daughter-in-law, but in his own house he’d be the one highest up the table until the day he died.

He entered the house and walked along a corridor, glancing out of the windows now and then. Movement caught his eye and he stopped to stare when he realised what he was looking at. The new laird and Marsaili, walking close to each other, strolling up from the loch.
At this time of day?
Seton blinked in shock.

What was the whoreson up to now? Wasn’t it enough that he was interfering with the running of the estate? Did he have to try and insinuate himself into the ladies’ good graces as well? It was not to be borne.

They were laughing, he’d swear to it, even though he had trouble seeing clearly from a distance. And the laird wasn’t even fully clothed. It was a disgrace.

Seton felt bile rise up in his throat and his chest heaved. Marsaili was his. He’d wanted her from the first time he’d set eyes on her, when she wasn’t even fully a woman yet. He’d waited patiently and he was going to have her. No foreign whipper-snapper would take what was his, he’d make damned sure of it.

Yes, the laird had to go and then the damned dog. But how?

‘
Thank you for the escort, my … Brice. And your efforts as a lady’s maid.’

Marsaili felt suddenly embarrassed, standing so close to him, especially since the drying cloth only partially covered his still half-nude form. He’d made her laugh with nonsensical tales of Swedish trolls and other magical creatures, which he claimed were much worse than any Scottish kelpie. It made her realise he wasn’t always the stern taskmaster she’d seen before. He had a lighter side to him, one she couldn’t help but admire.

‘
Not at all, it was my pleasure. And although I enjoy being called “your Brice”, it might be best if you don’t say that within earshot of anyone else,’ he teased.

‘
It was a slip of the tongue, as well you know,’ she said and held up a hand in a mock threatening fashion, as if she was going to punch him.

He laughed. ‘Hmm, now don’t go giving me ideas.’ He wiggled his eyebrows at her and stared pointedly at her mouth.

Marsaili felt heat flooding her cheeks. ‘For shame, my … Brice. I won’t listen to you any more.’

‘
Oh, you wouldn’t have to listen,’ he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘Just close your eyes and I’ll show you.’ His voice was still husky, filled with some kind of promise that made Marsaili’s insides melt and actually almost persuaded her to do as he asked, but she pulled herself together and shook her head.

‘
I’ll do no such thing. And now you’d better go and dry yourself or you’ll catch your death.’

He sighed dramatically. ‘Very well, you cruel woman. I’ll see you at breakfast then. Make sure it’s not watery porridge this time, please, or I’ll tip it over your newly washed hair.’

He walked backwards a few steps, grinning at her, and she couldn’t help but smile in return even though he was again reminding her of her previous misdeeds.

‘
Lots of butter and honey, please, with cream,’ he added. ‘And I’ll need two helpings at the very least. Combing hair as long as yours is hard work.’

‘
Away with you!’ She shooed him off and turned towards the kitchen entrance, determined not to pay him any more heed. She couldn’t resist one last glance out of the corner of her eye, however, and was treated to the sight of his broad back, bare in the sunlight.

She sighed. He really was magnificent.

Chapter Twelve

‘
Right then, Mr Seton, I think we have a few things to discuss regarding the running of this estate.’

Brice had postponed the inevitable meeting with Seton until the second day in order to see how the man responded to his presence at Rosyth. So far the factor hadn’t countermanded any of Brice’s instructions, but he hadn’t helped by making sure they were carried out either. His expression at the
supper table the night before had been anything but
joyful and he seemed, if possible, even grumpier this
morning, as if Brice had mortally offended him.
Perhaps I have, just by being here
, Brice thought, but he had no intention of mistreating the man so his anger was a little premature.