Highlander Mine (19 page)

“I’ll thank you for nothing,” I said, regretting the childishness of my surly reply.

“You can at least thank me for one thing,” he teased.

I did not slow my pace, nor even look at him.

“Actually,
two
things.”

Nay, I would not indulge him, nor respond to him at all. He was attempting to lighten my mood, to accept his infuriatingly sensible decree. So I would. I’d return to my chambers, where I would proceed to securely lock the door and forget about Knox Mackenzie. I would concentrate on my duty as a sister. My journey. The darkness, the hunger, the despair that would surely color the days and nights of my immediate future. I would forget all the twinkly beauty of the night and the loch and
especially
the man.

“Two very
lewd
—”

I stopped abruptly and turned to face him, my hands on my hips, a gesture my mother had often attempted to scold me out of, but never quite succeeded. Knox’s expression was calm and faintly mischievous. He was no longer smiling, but he looked...happy. “Must you?” I seethed, turning from him to resume my bid to escape before I was reduced to tears or pleas or some humiliating combination thereof.

“My sincere apologies. I promise I will redeem myself.”

“There is only one way you can redeem yourself, and since you have avowed that you are too ‘romantic’ to indulge me, then I believe this conversation is well and truly over.” I continued to march up the hill.

He kept pace, watching me with that bemused fascination, as if I might have been a mermaid that had crawled up from the loch.

We were nearing the manor and there were people about. When we reached its grassy lawn, I turned to face him. I knew Knox would likely leave me here, to wander farther, around the corner to where the closest door of his den was located.

Our moment had come to an end. Our sweet, sweet passion was dissipating in the populated shadows of the Mackenzie manor. Tomorrow we would pretend this had never happened. We would forget. We would act as we were supposed to act, feign graciousness and carry on with our lives as a laird and his barely welcome visitor.

“Good evening, Laird Mackenzie,” I said graciously.

Slowly, he leaned closer, placing the lightest, most stealthily erotic kiss I had ever experienced—and I’d now experienced enough, damn him, to know erotic—right on my mouth. His tongue licked my lips lightly, dipping between them, lingering, tasting with closed-eye rapture as though utterly overcome. And then, after a moment of sweet, laden hesitation, he pulled back. “Good evening, milady,” he said, bowing to me in a nobleman’s gesture of courtesy.

With a last glance, I turned from him and as I walked away, the lingering picture of his face as I took my leave stuck in my mind: he’d appeared younger than usual, bereft, his features touched once again by the sorrow that had all but left him by the shores of the moonlit loch.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
CONTINUED
MY
lessons in the morning, dedicating all my time and energy to preparing and teaching.

The children were improving at all their practices quickly. Edward was becoming proficient with the Latin verbs, and Greer had taken a renewed interest in calligraphy, now that she could decorate her writings with the pictures she was so very talented with. Her mother discouraged this unnecessary frivolity, but I assured Katriona that the drawings were harmless, that the lass would likely outgrow her imaginative fancies over time.

This was clearly untrue. The child possessed a gift I had never before witnessed in someone so young. Her drawings were uncannily true to life, her proportions of line and dimension astoundingly correct. And the artistic flair she gave the realism only added to the beauty. I planned to try to placate Katriona soon, just before I took my leave of Kinloch. I would make a genuine attempt to enlighten her to the extent of her daughter’s talent. Whether or not she chose to listen was beyond my control.

Katriona had softened toward me somewhat. She could see that her children were progressing in their studies already. And she was appreciative of what I had so far done with them, I could see that. Still, there lingered a wariness in her that involved more than a hint of distrust.

I supposed I could hardly blame her. I was a stranger, with a wild, violent past and a waywardness that I could do little to tone down, even though I tried. My nephew also possessed this point of difference from his noble playmates. We worked on this. We discussed it in the evenings and we did our best to play our roles. For the most part, we succeeded.

I also did my best to avoid Laird Knox Mackenzie. In the light of day, I was as embarrassed by my euphoric responses to him as I was needy for more. He did not summon me to visit him again and I was grateful. We ate at the same table during two evening meals, but I made a point to sit as far from him as I could. I avoided eye contact even as he’d watched me throughout. Several times, I’d had to make a concerted effort not to sigh or flee or cry from the funneling heat of his subtle attention, which delivered a channel of sparks that he fired out of his eyes and directly into every erogenous zone I possessed. At the end of each meal, I took an early leave of the camaraderie, safely retreating to my private guest chambers, where I could predict my own actions and control my own mind. Knox Mackenzie had a powerful effect on me, aye, and one I was resolved not only to evade, but to conquer. And I was glad now that he had not given in to me. He had been right, of course. If he had relented to my wanton requests, I would now be not only a tainted woman—which was, if I was being honest to myself, hardly an issue with my unconventional background already coloring my reputation beyond all repair—but also bound to him in an irrevocable way.

It was best if I kept a very large, safe distance between myself and Knox Mackenzie until it was time for me to return to Edinburgh. And the date of my departure was growing closer. The money, I expected, would be paid to me soon and as soon as it was, I would steal away to the boathouse, down the river and into the night. I was almost glad of the distraction this provided. Plans and tactics allowed my mind a reprieve from the scorching memories of Knox’s kisses. His hands.
His mouth.
These reminiscences were, at times and especially in his presence, extremely difficult to corral. I couldn’t help replaying the tender beauty of his touch in my thoughts, over and over. And the memories, despite my attempt to put them out of my mind, seemed to infuse my body with a light, radiant awareness. Of itself, oddly. Of the soft smoothness of my own skin. Of the curl of my hair and the touch of the sun upon my face. Of my own pulse, which I felt not just in my heart but in the tips of my breasts and in my intimate, secret place.

It was disconcerting. I was existing in a state of elusive, understated arousal. I remembered every sensation. Every flutter. I was awake in a way I had never before experienced.

But I forced myself to forget.

I felt as though I was being haunted by a fiery ghost whose hair was as black as midnight and whose big, perfectly formed body was equal parts lure and liability. While my body was convinced, even as I fought against this base, burgeoning insight, that he was everything I had never known I’d wanted, delivered in one flashy-eyed, wide-shouldered, blue-blooded package, my mind knew better.
His
desire had been founded on a falsely given story. Everything about me was in fact a lie. We were not a match, and we never would be. This is what I concentrated on when I thought of Knox Mackenzie, as I worked and planned and avoided him as best I could.

It was Friday morning, and the Mackenzie clan was preparing for the arrival of their esteemed noble guests. Several members of the Munro clan would arrive this evening, as well as a number of Buchanans, Machardies, Macintoshes and Macallisters. Workers were busy preparing the grand hall with decorations and flower arrangements, and delicious scents from the kitchens hinted at the feast that would greet the visitors.

The children and I decided to hold our lessons at the far end of the orchards, where it was quieter, where we weren’t in the way of the ranks of Mackenzie clan staff.

I had brought a simple picnic of bread and cheese and dried meat, as the noonday meal would not be served today, so the grand hall could undergo its transformation for the festivities of the evening. The children, too, were excused of their afternoon tasks since even the soldiers and farmers were immersed not only in their regular work, but also in the art of presentation, it seemed. As I already knew, the Mackenzie clan conducted their everyday activities with precision and meticulous attention to detail, and appearances, to the eyes of guests, were also important. The keep was being cleaned, groomed and organized above and beyond even its usual splendor. Admirable, I thought.

The day was mild. I was practicing French conversation with Greer as Edward and Hamish solved several pages of written sums I had prepared for them. Both were seated at large, smooth stumps, which worked well as makeshift desks. And both finished their work as the sun was high overhead, an hour or two after noon, I guessed. I served them some of the food, then let them wander and play.

“Amuse yourselves as you wish while I check your work. Don’t go too far, in case there are mistakes you need to fix.” I let Greer draw while I perused the boys’ arithmetic and I could hear their voices in the near distance. Greer wandered off to join them. After I had taken little notice of the three of them for some time, my attention was diverted by their raised voices.

An argument had broken out.

Edward was shouting and sounded agitated, almost in tears. I walked in their direction and could see them through the tree branches before they noticed me.

Pricks of panic pierced me as I saw what they were doing.

Not again.
They were playing cards. Betting with money. Not only that, but with Edward’s most prized possession: the finely made bone-handled knife that had once belonged to his father. It was laid on the grass in the betting pile, surrounded by silver coins and trinkets typically found in young boys’ pockets. A fishing hook. A whittled stick. A small, perfectly rounded skipping stone.

“You cannot have it!” Edward shouted.

“You lost it fairly, Edward,” Hamish explained. “I told you the rules. You understood the risk you were taking. There’s nothing worse than a sore loser.”

“You cheated!” Edward picked up the knife and held it against his chest. “I won’t give it to you.”

“You haven’t
given
it to me. You’ve lost it in a fair game, Edward. There’s every chance you could win it back. What else have you got to bet with? We’ll play again.”

It was then that I stepped in, desperately hoping that this damage wasn’t irreparable. These tricks were too ingrained in Hamish, too much a part of his upbringing. He was having trouble recognizing what was acceptable in polite society. He had once again forgotten to play his fictional role.

This crime, I knew, was more severe than that with the dice. That had been forgiven as child’s play, but this was organized, educated gambling. It could ruin everything. I had to
leave
Hamish with this clan. If they thought him a thief and a swindler, they might banish him from their keep. Thievery was not taken at all lightly. I had thought we had conquered our lapses and were past this life of dishonesty, but old habits, I knew, were difficult to break. Especially for a willful nine-year-old boy.

“Hamish,” I said gently, forcing a calm tone. “Where did you learn to play that card game? Where did you get those cards? And where are your manners? You know we don’t gamble.”

“He knows how to play
many
card games,” Edward insisted. “He’s shown me. He pretended to be ignorant, but he’s not. I know it. He’s too skilled to be a beginner.” Edward was an astute, clever boy who was not about to be told what to believe. He ran off, in the direction of the manor, no doubt to complain to his mother and his laird, and anyone else who would to listen. I could not blame him for this. To get nearly swindled out of one’s dead father’s hunting knife was no small thing for a boy like Edward, who spent much of his time lost in fantasies reliving the stories of glory, pining for his loss, and basking in the oft-given praise that he was the spitting image of his noble warrior father: a fine boy, with dark hair and green eyes, just like
his.

“Edward!” I called. “Wait! I’m sure this can be resolved easily. Of course your possessions will be returned to you!”

But he was gone.

“How do you know so many card games, Hamish?” asked Greer innocently. “And dice games, as well. Where did you put the snake eyes? Do doctors in Edinburgh gamble?”

“Of course not,” I chuckled, doing my best to smooth this over. “Hamish had a friend in Edinburgh who had some shady associates, that’s all. These things happen from time to time in the big city. ’Tis of no concern to us here, is it, Hamish? Give me those playing cards. We won’t be needing those anymore.” I knew for certain we hadn’t brought playing cards with us. These had been fashioned. Out of parchment and ink. He’d made them.

I was irate, aye, but it was not the time or place for severe admonishment. That could be given once Hamish and I were alone. This would best be handled with earnest disbelief and light bemusement. I would need to be as shocked as everyone else at the playful experimentation of my nephew—nay, my
brother
—whose creativity had once again led him in directions that must be scolded and curbed. Laughingly, I would apologize sincerely, then quickly attempt to put the indiscretion behind us all. I could only hope that undue fuss would not be made. It would take skill to skirt this gracefully, I knew. Katriona would be even more suspicious of us than she already was. She might not be so forgiving this time. I might lose my position of employment.

That, of course, hardly mattered. I would, very soon—perhaps even tomorrow—make my way south. Then again, if Hamish’s crime was treated as such, to be punished with more severe consequences or even banishment, then we would be back to square one. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. And I was glad that the guests, who were due to arrive at any time, might distract Laird Mackenzie from making unnecessarily harsh decisions over the games of an innocent child.

I had become too relaxed, perhaps, in this idyllic place. I’d let the ease of Kinloch lull me into a false sense of security. For the past few days, I’d almost felt I’d
belonged
here, as a real teacher with real talent for it, fulfilling a real purpose beyond mere survival. I could see now that allowing myself these feelings of well-being had been foolish. I was playing a role, as was Hamish, and I had not reminded him adequately, nor stressed often enough how important our vigilance was.

Greer was climbing a tree nearby, an activity her mother would definitely not have approved of. I allowed it, so I could speak to Hamish without being overheard.

Hamish handed me the cards. His angelic face was the picture of remorse. He’d coveted the weapon owned by his new friend and had forgotten the rules. I took the cards, shoving them deep into my teaching bag, resolving to burn them at my very first opportunity.

“I’m
sorry,
Ami,” he said. “I forgot. Again.” Fat tears pooled in his eyes.

I kneeled down in front of him and cupped his face in my hands, wiping his tears with my fingers. “It’s not your fault, Hamish,” I whispered to him. “You should never have been exposed to any of it. You’re a good lad. You’re smart and brave and honorable. You are the best person I know. One day you’ll be a great soldier. Don’t you give another thought to any of this. I’ll fix it.”

“I won’t do it again, Ami,” he sniffled. “I promise I’ll try harder. When can we see my mother?”

The tacked-on question hit me like a spear through the heart. God, how I missed her. Defensively, I’d all but blocked her out of my mind as I’d navigated the new and somewhat choppy waters of Kinloch. But now, in the face of Hamish’s sorrow, my fear for her safety came flooding back to me in a torrent of anguish. Her sunny hair and her laughter. Her survive-at-all-costs outlook, which had given me much of my strength. Her sacrifice, in the hopes that she could right our sinking ship.

My own tears fell, but I brushed them away. “Soon. We’ll see her soon.”
Once I find her, and have faced the danger that might finish us both.
“We’ll all be together again.”

“I don’t want to go back to Edinburgh,” Hamish said. “I want to stay here.”

“Aye. We’ll stay here. When the time is right, we’ll send word to her, and she’ll come to Kinloch and live with us here. But we must be careful, and remember our story.”

“Is my father dead?”

The question jarred me. It took me a few seconds to recover, and respond. “
Nay,
Hamish. Of course not.”

His quivering lower lip and shining eyes nearly undid me. I smoothed away a fresh tear from his sun-kissed cheek. And I gave him my full honesty, as he deserved. “I don’t know. I know he was expected back from his trip a week or more before we left. He might have run into some trouble along the way. I don’t know. Your mother doesn’t know. That is why she waits.”