It Happened One Bite (10 page)

“Kettering?” Aiden raked a hand through his hair, all the while looking at her as though she’d sprouted a second head. “Ye canna be serious. Ye doona ken the first thing about the man.”

“Ye’re the one, Aiden, who has been beggin’ me ta try and catch a man’s eye. That’s all I’m tryin’ ta do.”

“Blaire—”

She so wished that she could cry on command as Sorcha could. She blinked her eyes rapidly, the way she’d seen the youngest witch in their coven do many a time. Apparently it was good enough.

“Are ye gonna
cry
?” Aiden leaned back against the squabs, completely appalled.

Blaire shook her head and huddled further under her plaid, hoping he couldn’t see through her ruse. “Aiden, promise me ye willna toss Kettering and Blodswell from Briarcraig. Or I’ll never get the chance ta see if somethin’ could come of this.”

At that moment, the carriage rumbled to a stop. Aiden frowned a bit as he reached for the door. “I willna throw them out. No’ yet anyway, if it’s so important ta ye.”

She didn’t trust her voice not to give her deception away, so she nodded instead.

“Just doona cry, all right?”

Blaire nodded again.

Aiden opened the carriage door and stepped out into the bright Highland sunlight. Blaire followed his lead. She shaded her eyes with her hand to take in the sleepy village before them. Strathcarron seemed desolate, not quite as desolate as Briarcraig, but bleak just the same. The clearances must have hit the region hard. Of course, they had hit most of Scotland hard. Living in Edinburgh, the Lindsays hadn’t been affected too badly. But they’d seen an influx of Scots looking for work and shelter in the city, and those people had all come from villages such as this one.

Aiden pointed to a tiny pub and inn at the end of the street. “Why doona ya start over there, and I’ll head over ta the blacksmiths.’”

It was as good a place as any. Blaire started down the frozen street, clutching her plaid closer about her shoulders. A frigid wind from a loch at the southern tip of the village threatened to freeze her in her steps. She shuddered and increased her gait until she reached the safety of the taproom.

Blaire rushed inside the building. A small group of locals sat around a couple of dingy tables. Their mouths dropped open when their eyes landed on her, and one man dropped his pint into his lap. Apparently it was never too early to start drinking in Strathcarron. Then again, a pint might keep the chill from one’s bones.

She smiled tentatively at the assembled men whom she’d taken by surprise. “Mornin’.”

A short, ruddy faced man pushed his seat back and rose to his feet. “Hello, lass. Are ya lookin’ for someone?”

An old man beside him chuckled. “I could be someone.”

Blaire stepped forward, ignoring the last comment. “I
am
lookin’ for someone. A great many someones. My brother, Captain Lindsay, has inherited Briarcraig Castle, and we are hopin’ ta hire locally.”

“Mother o’ God,” the old man’s eyes rounded in horror.

“Briarcraig?” another muttered.

The ruddy faced man shook his head. “No one goes near the castle, lass. Place is haunted.”

Silly, superstitious Scots. Blaire smothered a laugh with her fingers. “Come now,” she began again. “I’ve slept in the castle the last two nights and have neither seen nor heard any evidence of ghosts. Surely, ye big strappin’ Highlanders are no’ squeamish of a couple old tales.”

No one said a word. It had to be the most quiet this taproom had ever seen.

“Or do ye think a lowland lass is more brave than the lot of ye?” she goaded the villagers.

“Hirin’ locally, ye say?” A young, smooth-faced man stood up from one of the nearby tables. “What positions are ye lookin’ ta fill, Miss…Lindsay, is it?”

Blaire nodded to the youngest man of the group. “It is. And we are in need of…well, everythin’. Maids, footmen, a butler, a cook, a housekeeper, a groom or two.”

“I’m Malcolm, and my Glenna and I would be happy for the opportunity.” And he meant it. Blaire could see a bit of optimism in his eyes.

Her heart soared as though it had wings. With the amount Aiden had come into, they could help others who were in need. The people of these parts could use some good fortune themselves. “Can ye be by this afternoon?”

“Aye.” Malcolm nodded. “And my mother can cook.”

“Wonderful.” Blaire smiled at the taproom at large. No more of Aiden’s mutton stew. The smooth-faced Malcolm was fast becoming her favorite Highlander. “Anyone else?”

Behind her, the door opened again, bringing with it the icy Highland air that had nearly chilled her to her bones. Blaire glanced over her shoulder and shouldn’t have been surprised to see Aiden standing in the threshold. “The blacksmith isna there.”

The ruddy faced man stepped toward her brother. “I’m Hamish. Do ye have need of my services, lad?”

“Ye’re the blacksmith?” Aiden’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t expected the smithy to be drinking so early in the day and not at his place of work. But this was not Edinburgh, not in the least.

“Aye. And ye are?”

“Captain Lindsay.” Aiden’s gaze swept across the room, taking it all in.

“Well, Captain,” the old man began, “do ye really have the funds ta staff that castle of yers?”

A hundred times over at least.

Aiden nodded his reply. “As long as there are men and women lookin’ for honest pay for honest work. The castle has been vacant for so long that there’s a lot to do.”

“That,” Malcolm said proudly, puffing out his chest, “willna be a problem, Captain.”

Blaire led a troop of new maids over the threshold of the great hall. Gathering the necessary servants had not been as difficult as she’d originally thought. As soon as the villagers realized Aiden and his money were real, fears about haunted castles evaporated like mist from the loch.

After a quick dispersal of duties, Blaire led Mrs. Fraser toward the kitchens, relieved Malcolm’s mother had agreed to come on as their cook and even promised she could have dinner prepared for all their guests that very evening. The old woman so exuded confidence in her abilities that Blaire believed every word from her mouth.

As they reached the kitchens, Brannock burst through the door and barreled right into Blaire. She gasped and put him out from her, shocked at his disheveled appearance and scratches that marred his neck and arms. “What the devil happened ta ye?”

The youngest Lindsay shrugged, as though he had no idea what she was going on about. “I was just hopin’ ta meet the staff Aiden said ye hired.”

“Do ye mean ta tell me Aiden saw ye like this, all covered with slashes, and he dinna do anythin’ about it?” The injuries looked swollen and angry, turning redder by the minute.

“Oh, that.” Brannock glanced down at his own arms. “I dinna have the scratches then.”

“Brannock Lindsay, what exactly did ye do ta yerself?”

“Bruce dinna like the new home I made for him. That’s all, Blaire.”

That damn cat. “Brannock,” she began, but the new cook held up her hand, silencing Blaire’s words.

“I have always said, Miss Lindsay,” Mrs. Fraser put in, “that lads doona feel bumps and scrapes the same way we do. My sons could’ve lost legs or arms, and they’d have kept at whatever held their interest.”

Blaire shared a commiserating look with the new servant and shook her head. “Does it no’ get easier as they get older?”

“Wish I could tell ye it does,” the older woman replied with a shrug, “but I’d be lyin’. But if they catch the ague, ye’d think the world was comin’ ta an end.” She looked Brannock over. “Come along, lad. We’ll get an ointment for yer injuries.”

Brannock’s mouth fell open as the cook began to tow him toward the great hall, and Blaire held in a laugh. She’d never seen the boy handled so swiftly before.

“Blaire, do ye ken why Lord Kettering is crawlin’ around on his hands and knees in the cellar?” Brannock called, trying to extricate himself from the cook’s hold.

“Crawlin’ on his hands and knees?” Blaire echoed, stalking toward the servants’ staircase that led to the lower level. What in the world was the baron doing on his hands and knees in the cellar? She’d scoured the room from top to bottom looking for clues about the man. Had she missed something? What was he looking for? She nearly tripped down the steps in her haste to reach Kettering.

She rounded a corner, and before she could stop, Blaire barreled right into Lord Blodswell’s backside as he blocked the cellar from her view.

The earl spun around in a flash and kept her from falling. “Are you quite all right, Miss Lindsay?” He set her from him.

She paid him no attention but strained her neck to see around his broad shoulders, hoping for a glimpse of Kettering. What was he searching for? Blodswell, however, was again in her way, continuing to block her view.

A moment later, Baron Kettering was at his friend’s side, a look of concern on his ruggedly handsome face. “Blaire?”

“What are ye doin’ here?” she choked out, for lack of anything intelligent to say.

A slight smile appeared on Kettering’s face. “Is it possible you missed me, Miss Lindsay?”

His twinkling dark eyes completely disarmed her. “I-I…”

“Did you have any luck in Strathcarron?”

Blaire gestured toward the empty cellar. “Did ye have any luck in there, my lord?”

Aiden chose that moment to call from the top of the stairs, “Is there a soiree goin’ on in my cellar?”

Blodswell stepped around Blaire and started for the steps. “Ah, Captain, so good to see you this afternoon. I was hoping to speak with you.”

“With me?” Aiden mumbled.

“Yes. I’m quite impressed with your property, what I’ve seen of it anyway. May I impose on you to show me around? I adore the medieval feel.”

Aiden grumbled something unintelligible but finally said, “Very well. Where would ye like ta begin?”

“Oh,” Blodswell gushed as he climbed the steps, “I think I should like to see the library, Captain. Always the most fascinating things are found in libraries, don’t you agree?”

Blaire couldn’t remember the last time her brother had cracked open a book. Not to mention that the library at Briarcraig was in a most horrible state of disrepair. She would have giggled about the situation if she didn’t realize that she was unexpectedly, once again, all alone with James. Suddenly, he seemed to take up most of the space in the small confines. As he stepped closer to her, the smell of citric shaving lotion and a freshly smoked cheroot wrapped around her. She had to stop herself from closing her eyes and simply enjoying his scent.

Strong
. She was supposed to be strong today. “What are ye doin’ down here?” She straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

He watched her for the longest while, and she had the strangest feeling he was gazing at her neck. What an odd place for a man’s eyes to linger. But he had mentioned her neck earlier this morning, as well, hadn’t he? “I, um, I’ve lost something, and I thought perhaps I’d left it in here.”

Nothing was in the room. She’d searched it over more than once. “What are ye lookin’ for? Perhaps I’ve already come across it.”

“Like my watch fob?”

She knew a blush stained her cheeks. No, not like his watch fob. Whatever he’d lost this time, she hadn’t absconded with it. “I could help ye look,” she offered.

A charming smile graced his face, and Blaire felt warmth wash over her. “Would you truly help me, Blaire, if I asked it of you?”

Look for whatever he’d lost? The opportunity to discover his secrets? She nodded.

“Hmm. I wonder.” His eyes took on a far-off gleam.

Blaire wasn’t at all certain they were talking about the same thing. “I’ll be happy ta help ye find whatever ye’ve lost, James.”

“What if I want
you
more than what I was looking for? What then, Blaire?” he asked as he took a step toward her. “Would you still be as amenable?”

***

His intent had been to disarm her, to remove some of the guardedness that was her constant companion. But James found himself just as stripped. She gazed up at him with those shimmering grey eyes, open and trusting. And James wanted nothing more than he wanted to take her in his arms.

Yet she spun away from him after a moment. “What is it that ye’re looking for?” she asked. He heard the tiny quaver in her voice, the hesitance. Her back stiffened. Obviously, she heard it, too.

Initially, he’d been looking for a way to enchant her. But once again he was the one suddenly and completely disarmed. “Blaire,” he began softly as he stepped up behind her. He hovered within an inch of her body, knowing full well that if he pushed too far, he wouldn’t get to inhale her scent, to enjoy her.

“James,” she whispered softly, still facing away from him. Then her body backed into his, almost as though a magnet drew her to him. She fit him. Her forehead nestled beside his chin, her back against his chest.

He slid one of his hands around her waist, where he opened his fingers wide and pulled her bottom even tighter into the saddle of his hips. God, she smelled so good. Felt so good. With his free hand, he brushed aside the tiny tendrils of raven-black hair that had escaped the knot at her neck to cascade over her shoulders. And then he placed his lips against her tender skin.

She tasted like all the things he’d forgotten because he’d gone so long without, like freshly baked tarts. Like sugar in one’s tea. She smelled like sunshine and the clean air after a quick spring rain. Her gasp sounded like the winter wind, quiet but cutting. She looked as delicate as a flower in spring, yet she felt like firm, hot,
human
flesh in his arms.
Willing
human flesh.

He nearly cursed aloud when his incisors descended. He couldn’t help it. His body associated all pleasures of the flesh with a meal, the ultimate sharing of one’s self. But if she knew, she wouldn’t be so warm or willing.

There was no doubt in James’ mind that she was in his arms because she wanted to be there, rather than because he’d enchanted her. She liked him. She wanted him, too. He could nearly taste her desire.

Her hand came up to cover his upon her belly but not to push it away as he momentarily feared. Instead, she threaded her fingers with his and gripped him tightly. Her hand shook slightly as she leaned her head to the side at the insistence of his questing lips. He groaned against her skin, his incisors gently abrading the sensitive skin.

James fought his most basic instinct to take from her. He fought it for as long as he could. He could bring her pleasure. He would cause her no pain. He would seal his mouth over her pulse point, take all of her pleasure inside himself, and give her his own in return. It would be most wonderful. He nipped at her with his teeth. Then sucked gently. A prelude of what was to come.

“James,” she cried as she spun in his embrace, her arms rising to wrap around his neck. Her lips sought his. He lifted his head for no more than a moment and took her offering, sipping at her lips gently and then nipping her lightly. The metallic taste of copper flooded his tongue, and he froze.
What had he done?

James caught her face between his hands and stared down at her. Her eyes were limpid pools of silver, dark as a storm-laden day. With her eyes half-closed in pleasure, she barely saw him. “Doona stop,” she whispered, her lips seeking his again.

He’d bitten her. He’d nipped her hard enough to draw blood, and she was coming back for more?

“Did I hurt you?” he breathed against her lips.

She shook her head quickly, affirming the negative.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t intend to do that.” At least not there. Not like this.

“Do I look ta ye like someone who might break, James?” she whispered, a grin turning up the corners of her kiss-swollen lips. A tiny drop of blood beaded up on her mouth, and he bent to kiss her, to draw it into himself.

“You look like someone who wants to be loved,” James admitted.

That
made her draw back.

“This has nothin’ ta do with love.”

“It doesn’t?” He probably looked like the worst sort of fool, but in his experience, women wanted to be loved. That made his seductions easier to conduct.

“It was just a
kiss
,” she said as she stepped out of his grasp. James felt the loss immediately. He reached to draw her back to him. But she stepped farther away and then raised her hands to tuck the stray tendrils of hair back into a loose chignon.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs above them. “Blaire!” the youngest Lindsay bellowed from the top of the servants’ stairs.

She stepped into the doorway and called back to him, “What do ye want, Brannock?” She sighed.

Was she disappointed? In him? That their brief interlude was over? Never had James felt such warring emotions, not since he was a green lad.

“Ye’ll never believe who’s here!” the boy called back.

Blaire started up the steps. But James wasn’t about to let her go alone. He followed so closely behind her that his view all the way up the stairs was her sweet little bottom. She ignored his presence. When they reached the kitchen, Brannock was standing at the top.

“Who is it, Bran?” she asked with a sigh.

“What happened ta yer neck, Blaire?” the boy asked. “Do ye need some of Mrs. Fraser’s ointment?”

“My neck?” she mumbled, covering her neck with her palm. Her frantic eyes met James’.

He turned her toward him and gently uncovered her neck. He’d left a purple love-mark upon her skin. It shone like a bright beacon on a clear night. He was a damned idiot. He quickly tugged the pins from her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, and then drew some of it forward to cover his marks.

“It looks as though that spider did bite you after all, Miss Lindsay,” he said to appease Brannock, who looked on with a worried tilt to his eyebrows. “I’m so glad I was there to kill it for you.”

Brannock snorted. “
Blaire
needed a man ta kill a spider for her? I find that hard ta believe.”

Blaire cuffed his shoulder. “Mind yer manners, Bran,” she hissed. “And ye shouldna go around bellowin’ anymore. What will the servants think?”

“Sorry,” the boy muttered, though he looked far from it.

“Now what were ye yellin’ about? Did ye say someone is here?”

The boy nearly bounced on the edge of his toes. “Ye’ll never guess who.”

“Oh for pity’s sake. Please tell me it’s no’ those Fyfe twits already.” She rolled her eyes, which made James bite back a smile. Amazingly, she had no idea how charming she was.

“No.” Her brother shook his head. “Ye’ll never guess who it is.”

“If ye willna tell me who, then will ye tell me
where
our guest is?”

“He’s in the great hall. I told him I’d get ye. And it’s no’ a secret. I just wanted ye ta guess again.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Ye want me ta guess again? And ye doona think I’ll ever figure it out?”

Brannock bounced on his toes.

Blaire sighed, but there was devotion in her eyes. “Well then, is it Wellington come ta bestow an award for Aiden’s bravery at Quatre Bras?”

The boy choked on a laugh and shook his head.

“Elspeth and Caitrin and the others?”

Again the lad shook his head.

“For the love of God, who
is
it, Brannock?” James asked, realizing his tone was a little too sharp as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

The lad sobered a bit and looked at his sister. “It’s Mr. MacQuarrie.”

Blaire looked puzzled. “Alec MacQuarrie is here? Why on earth would he come ta Briarcraig?” She stormed down the corridor with her brother in tow.

Who the devil was Alec MacQuarrie? James followed closely behind the pair. But he came up short, a tiny pain erupting in his chest when he saw Blaire fly into the arms of another man just inside the great hall.