Highland Storms (22 page)

Brice sobered. ‘After the marriage, you’ll have to tell your father I’ll be the one keeping the money safe for you. He’ll have no claim to it.’

Iain nodded. ‘For sure.’

‘
So is that agreed then?’ He held out his hand and Iain took it and shook it firmly.

‘
Aye, it is.’ Then he snatched up Kirsty and whirled her around. ‘Now can I tell him to get lost?’ he laughed.

‘
No, I will. Be gone with you, Brice, and wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you.’ Kirsty’s eyes were sparkling with happiness and Brice shook his head at the sight.

‘
What a pair of lovesick fools,’ he said, but he took the hint and made himself scarce.

Chapter Seventeen

Back outside the stables, Brice stood for a moment, debating whether to seek his bed or join the revellers for a while longer. Before he could make up his mind, a voice rang out and he saw someone walking towards him from the direction of the
ceilidh
. Seton.
Damn!

‘
There you are,
laird
.’ The last word was said in a sneering tone, as always, but Brice ignored this. His main priority was to steer the factor away from the stables, or he might stumble on Iain and Kirsty the way Brice had done. Then all hell would break lose.

‘
Were you looking for me?’ he said and went to meet the man halfway.

‘
Yes, some of the men want you to join a little game. I hope you have a taste for whisky?’

‘
A drinking game? Why not.’ Brice had been thinking of seeking a cure for his restlessness with a dram or two of the local brew, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it in company with Seton. If there were to be others present, however, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. ‘Lead the way,’ he said and pretended not to notice the other man’s smirk.

He soon found out what Seton had been grinning about. The game consisted of seeing how many cups of whisky a man could down and still walk along a narrow beam, which had been set up between two trestles, without falling off. The cups weren’t huge and held only about three mouthfuls. But since most of the men present had already had more than their fair share, they lost their balance at the first or second attempt. Seton was as agile as a cat, however, and got as far as six, as did Brice and his childhood friend Rob.

Following his seventh cup, Seton’s luck turned. Although he almost made it to the end, he misjudged his last step and went tumbling off. ‘Damn it all!’ he bellowed, predictably a sore loser. He’d landed on the grass with a thump and swore long and hard while rubbing at various parts of his anatomy. Someone helped him up and he went and sat slumped on a bench.

There were shouts of, ‘Robbie, Robbie!’ and slightly less raucous ones of ‘MacCoinneach, MacCoinneach!’ as Brice and the other man took their turn. Both succeeded, making Seton glare from one to the other as if they had offended him personally. When Rob failed his next attempt, Seton just nodded. He then watched with narrowed eyes as Brice tipped his eighth cup down his throat and climbed up to attempt the balancing act yet again.

‘
Eight, eight, eight!’ the onlookers chanted. ‘MacCoinneach, MacCoinneach!’

Brice hid a smile. He was confident he could do it and he had the advantage of having been more or less sober when they started the game. There were two other factors in his favour as well – he was used to the even stronger Swedish
brännvin
and he’d had to balance on many a beam in rough weather while sailing to China.

‘
Go mon, go!’ The voices grew louder, egging him on. He didn’t want them to think he was showing off though, so he took it slowly, weaving a bit and pretending to almost lose his balance a couple of times. When he finally reached the end of the beam, the cheers were deafening. He accepted the congratulations and slaps on the back, but noticed Seton didn’t come forward. The man had closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

Brice didn’t care. ‘Thank you all,’ he shouted. ‘If I can find the way, I think I’ll seek my bed now. Goodnight!’

A few of the women called out to him as he made his way towards the house and he wondered if any of them would have offered to accompany him. He wasn’t tempted though. He didn’t want to acquire a reputation for seducing the local girls.

An image of Marsaili suddenly rose in his mind’s eye and he stumbled slightly.
Damn it, but I don’t want her either. Do I?
He stopped for a moment in the great hall as his head was spinning. He wasn’t blind drunk, but neither was he sober and he cursed Seton, hoping the other man would wake up with a sore head. After his week of carousing in Gothenburg, Brice had vowed never to get into such a state again, but he’d had no choice tonight.

Thoughts of Seton brought him back to thinking of Marsaili. Was she really all right? What had the whoreson said to her to make her so angry? Perhaps he ought to check?

‘
Fool,’ he muttered to himself. ‘She doesn’t need you.’

But was there really any harm in making sure?

Marsaili found it hard to go to sleep as the thoughts chased each other round and round inside her tired brain. Just as she was finally beginning to relax, however, there was a soft knock on her door. She sat up, instantly alert, and panic washed over her like a sudden cold squall, while her lungs constricted with agitation. Glancing at Liath, she noticed he wasn’t growling. She frowned at him.

A low whisper came through the door. ‘Marsaili? Are you all right?’

Her heart did an odd double beat, but she breathed a sigh of relief that it was Brice’s voice and not Seton’s. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she called softly. ‘Thank you.’

‘
Are you sure? Only … I noticed you and Seton had some sort of altercation. Would you like me to have words with the man? He’s in my employ after all.’

Marsaili hesitated. She didn’t doubt Brice could make Seton stop harassing her, but she knew the factor wouldn’t leave it at that. He’d take some sort of revenge on Brice and for some reason she couldn’t bear the thought of that.

‘
Marsaili? Talk to me.’

She took a deep breath. It seemed as though he wouldn’t go away until he’d seen for himself that she was unharmed, but she knew opening the door probably wasn’t wise. Still, if it made him leave faster … She lifted the heavy bar and found him outside, frowning. The moonlight from a narrow window gave his features a strange glow.

‘
I didn’t realise this was a fortress,’ he said. ‘Are we expecting invaders?’

Marsaili felt herself flush. ‘I … this part of the house is, uhm … a little isolated. And I wouldn’t want anyone to walk in unannounced in case it gave Liath the wrong idea.’

He looked past her at the big dog, who gazed back adoringly and thumped his tail against the coverlet. ‘Oh, hello boy.’ Brice smiled and turned back to Marsaili. ‘It’s nice to know you’re protected. Should it be necessary, I mean.’

She nodded. A strong smell of whisky emanated from him and she wrinkled her nose even though he didn’t appear particularly inebriated. Had he been swimming in the stuff, she wondered? Either way, caution was probably the better part of valour so she gripped the door and said firmly, ‘Indeed. Now as you can see, I’m perfectly fine so perhaps you should go back to the
ceilidh
? I need to sleep if I’m to be up in time for my duties tomorrow. I’ll bid you goodnight.’

Without warning, he reached out a hand and stroked her cheek with two slightly rough fingers. ‘I thought everyone would have a rest day after working so hard this week. You deserve one too.’

His fingers were barely touching her, but she was aware of nothing else. The contact made her skin tingle and the breath catch in her throat. She wanted to wrap her own fingers around his strong wrist and pull his hand closer. The fumes of whisky, combined with the fresh smell of
the outdoors and his own unique scent, washed over her.
It was intoxicating. Closing her eyes, she managed to
resist the impulse to touch him, but she didn’t tell him to leave.

He must have taken this as an invitation, because the next thing she knew his mouth was on hers. Butterfly kisses, slow and languorous, were dotted across her lips, each one lasting a little longer than the next. He was gentler than the last time he’d kissed her, and only placed his hands very lightly on her shoulders. If possible, she found this even more enticing. She knew the sensible thing would be to push him away and close her door, but she didn’t want to. Not yet. She was playing with fire, but it felt good. Wonderful, in fact, and she didn’t want him to stop.

‘
This is a bad idea,’ he murmured against her mouth, then contradicted himself by putting his arms around her to pull her against his hard, lean body. Although it was an echo of what Seton had done to her earlier, Marsaili felt none of the revulsion or panic the factor had caused. On the contrary, having the length of Brice touching her almost from neck to knee fired her blood.

‘
Yes, very bad,’ she breathed, opening her mouth for his tongue to explore. At the same time, she couldn’t resist running her hands up his broad back and shoulders, her fingers burned by the heat of him through his shirt.

She’d never liked whisky herself, but the tang of it made his kisses taste like heaven. Marsaili couldn’t understand it. She ought to have been repulsed and disgusted, instead she couldn’t get enough.

His hands moved down to caress her behind, pushing her against him. She felt the evidence of his desire, but even that didn’t frighten her as much as it should have done. A wanton part of her wanted to rub herself against him like a cat and she was just about to do so when a low growl from Liath brought her to her senses. Brice must have heard it too, because he broke off the kiss. They both froze and listened.

Someone was coming up the spiral staircase.

Brice glanced around him and tried to make his brain function. The heady combination of too much liquor and Marsaili in his arms didn’t help, but he managed to assess his options somehow. They were on a small landing which didn’t lead anywhere except to Marsaili’s room, since it was at the very top of the tower. There was only one thing to do, as far as he could see. He propelled Marsaili into the bedroom and shut the door as quietly as he could, sliding the stout bar into place. He saw her open her mouth to protest, but put a finger on her lips to shush her. They both knew he shouldn’t be in here, but he wasn’t staying long and no one would ever find out.

The steps could be clearly heard since whoever it was didn’t even attempt to mask his or her progress. Marsaili stared at the door as if in a trance, her eyes huge with fear. Brice could see she knew who was coming and that it obviously wasn’t the first time it had happened. He clamped his teeth together hard.
Well, it will be the last
, he vowed.

Liath was still growling, the sound growing in volume until it seemed to rumble round the small room. Brice gave the dog a pat of approval, then moved silently to stand behind Marsaili. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. He could feel her trembling, but she relaxed slightly and leaned into him as if she trusted him to keep her safe. This made him draw in a sharp breath, but he didn’t stop to analyse the protective instincts she was awakening. Time for that later perhaps.

A kick on the door announced the visitor’s arrival outside. ‘Marsaili? I know you’re in there so don’t pretend you’re not. And that infra … infr …
infernal
animal too.’

Seton. Brice wanted to bare his fangs and growl, the way Liath was doing right now. A wave of anger washed through him, but he tried to keep it at bay. The man was obviously still drunk and there was no way Brice could confront him at the moment. That would compromise Marsaili beyond return. He hugged her closer and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. He was surprised to realise she fit against him perfectly, her soft curves moulded to him. It was as if she’d been made for him and him alone.

Seton’s slurred voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Don’t think you can ’scape me … Y’know it’s futile. You’re mine. Always have been.’ Seton laughed, a humourless cackle. ‘Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. Sh’d thank me. Be a whore like your mother oth’wise. I made that lelly-liv … lily-livered priest come see the widow. He’d told me ’bout your father years before.’

Marsaili’s chest rose and fell quickly, showing Brice that the man outside the door was distressing her with his disclosure. He put a finger on her mouth again to indicate it was better not to reply. Engaging a drunk man in conversation only prolonged it, in his experience, and it was the last thing they wanted.

Seton gave one last bellow of frustration and thumped on the door with his fist. ‘Sleep well, vixen. When you’re mine, I’ll be keeping you ’wake at nights, see if I don’t …’

The words trailed off and the door shook as if something heavy had fallen against it. Brice guessed Seton had passed out on the landing and he probably wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. He swore inwardly, but dare not take the risk of rousing him, however, so he couldn’t possibly leave that way. He was left with only one option.

Well, two, but he wasn’t so far gone he’d contemplate the second one.

He pushed Marsaili gently out of his embrace and she turned to frown at him, consternation and anxiety clear in her lovely green eyes. Brice bent close to her ear and whispered, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll leave now and I’ll send someone to fetch Seton and carry him back to his house.’

‘
But what if he wakes when you step over him?’