Margo Maguire (13 page)

Chapter 19

“W
hy were you going to send the lads to the blacksmith?” Lachann asked Catrìona. Angus had had a long day after the trauma of seeing Davy MacDonall injured, then spending the whole afternoon helping his friend’s mother.

“To give them the thrashing they deserve.”

In spite of her indifferent tone, he could tell she was still angry.

“Catrìona,” Lachann said, keeping his voice low and even. “Do they not have parents?”

“Of course they do. But—”

“Ramsay is hardly an appropriate disciplinarian,” he said.

Catrìona stiffened next to him. “He follows his orders well.”

“No, he does not. The man is a fool. Do not send any more children to him.
He
should be thrashed for standing by and watching Davy MacDonall being crushed by that cart today.”

“He said you moved it before he could get to you.”

“He’s a liar, then,” Lachann said. “None of the castle children should go near the man in future. As lady of the land, you might consider taking a more positive interest in them.” As Anna had done.

“Why, I know them all.”

“I am sure you do, Catrìona,” he said, though he had his doubts.

He managed to extricate himself from the woman’s grasp and send her into the keep without him. And ach, but his excuse had been lame—that he needed to speak with his men in the barracks. But the incident with the lads had put him off as much as her inappropriate interference with Ramsay had done.

He took the path toward his men’s quarters, but kept on walking past it, in the opposite direction of the old chapel.

Lachann understood the necessity of maintaining the authority of the laird and his family. And he knew discipline. But the lads in the tree were merely two children having a bit of fun. Their prank had been harmless. Catrìona had reacted as though they’d rained boiling oil down on their heads, rather than a few innocent twigs.

MacMillan parents had always meted out punishments according to the crime. At Braemore, Angus and Robbie would have been sent to the massive elm tree and instructed to rake up every leaf, twig, and branch on the ground ’round it, then clean up the entire area near the old chapel.

He did not like to think what the blacksmith would have done to them.

He scrubbed one hand across his face and wondered what in hell he was doing there, so far from everything and everyone he cared about.

Ach, right,
he reminded himself.
He was creating a protective barrier for Braemore, and securing a lairdship for himself.

Gesu,
but he’d never thought ’twould be so difficult, and he could not help but wonder whether there was any way to wrest the lairdship from MacDuffie without marrying his daughter.

He doubted that would ever happen, not when Cullen Macauley so obviously had the laird’s favor. And her thwarted seduction at the elm tree gave him to suspect Macauley had wheedled somewhat more than Catrìona’s favor from her. Lachann was going to have to fight for his position. Win the daughter, win the lairdship.

He suspected no amount of soldiering would win MacDuffie’s support.

Lachann stopped pacing. In the failing light of dusk, he saw Anna approaching from the stables. She did not see him as she came toward him, stopping once to pick up the white and black cat whose presence offended Catrìona when it wandered into the hall. But Anna obviously favored the wee beast.

Lachann could not hear Anna’s words, but the sound of her voice came to him, low and quiet. Pleasing.

She let the cat go and continued toward him, stopping abruptly ten paces away when she saw him. “Oh!”

“Anna.”

“I . . .” She looked past him, toward the keep. “I thought you’d gone in. With Catrìona.”

Lachann’s instincts told him to walk the other way, but he ignored them and closed the distance between them. She smelled of kitchen spices, and his fingers fairly itched to touch the thick flaxen braid that trailed down her back. He wanted to smooth away the fine blond tendrils that curled at her ears.

“No. I . . .” He hesitated, then looked up at the sky. “ ’Tis a fine night. Better spent out here than inside.”

“We’ve had some fair weather.”

“It must have been fine on your isle,” he said. “Tell me more about your
sluagh dubh
.”

Anna shook her head, and when she smiled, all the pent-up tension in Lachann’s body relaxed, all but in one very sensitive part, and he willed his unwelcome arousal to subside.

“I’ve said all I will on the subject.”

Lachann laughed, a sound unfamiliar to his own ears. She loosed something in him that was wholly agreeable. “Who would have thought the bravest person on Kilgorra would be a woman?”

“You jest. There are many courageous women on the isle. You only have to know Meg MacDonall. Or watch the wives who send their men out to sea in their birlinns of a morn to see that—”

“Aye, lass,” he said with a laugh. “I was only jesting. I am entirely impressed with the Kilgorrans I’ve met.” And captivated by her defense of them.

She appeared taken aback by her own blunt statement, and when she spoke again, her tone was apologetic. “ ’Tis just that I-I know most of them. And they are v-very—”

“Of course.” He caught a few wisps of the hair at her temple between his fingers and quickly found himself cupping her face in his hand. “But I doubt very much any of them have ever thought of asking to be taught to use a pistol.”

“Well, most—”

“I very much enjoyed the berries you left me on my arrival,” he said quietly in an attempt to put her at ease.

“I am glad to know it.” Her voice was hardly more than a reserved murmur now.

Lachann stepped closer as he lowered his head and tipped hers up. He closed the inches between their mouths, brushing his against the soft, sweet warmth of her lips.

Lachann felt her sharp intake of breath, but she did not pull away. Her eyes drifted closed, and so did his an instant later. He slid his hand ’round to the back of her head to capture her lips more fully.

She made a slight moan when he wrapped his fingers ’round the thick plait of her hair and pulled her deeper into the kiss. Ach, but she was as sweet as the berries she’d given him, and as innocent as her friend’s wee bairn.

Her body was soft and warm, and molded perfectly to his. And though Lachann knew this fruit was forbidden, he had no desire to stop. He would have pulled her fully into his embrace but for a sharp call that split them apart.

“Anna! Are ye there, lass?”

They both turned to see one of the menservants approaching. “Aye, Alex! I’m coming!”

Anna spun away so quickly that Lachann had to wonder if they’d actually shared that mind-searing kiss.

A
lex MacRae had come for her just in time.

“The mistress wants you in her bedchamber,” he said.

Somehow, Anna found her voice. “Aye. I’ll go to her right away.”

She left Alex near the servants’ quarters and went up the stairs to the great hall, where she stopped and pressed her hands against the cold stone of the wall. Her heart was beating like the wings of a moth, and she needed to gain some control before going up to Catrìona.

She took a deep breath, and though she tried to put that kiss from her mind, she could not. ’Twas at the forefront, and she feared ’twould likely remain there forever.

Anna had never felt anything so wondrous, and she could only imagine how much better it might have been had Lachann pulled her fully into his embrace. His touch had been gentle, but even now her body burned with a mad desire to feel all that leashed male power around her.

Her dreams of the man had not come close to the reality of his kiss. And she feared she would think of it every time she laid eyes on him.

She climbed the stairs to the bedchambers and braced herself to meet Catrìona’s demands.

Her stepsister sat at her dressing table with her hairbrush in hand. “ ’Tis about time.”

“My apologies, Catrìona,” Anna replied, hoping to assuage some of her stepsister’s annoyance at her absence of late. “I was running an errand for Flora.”

“You seem to have far too much time to loiter about.”

Anna felt her face heat. Catrìona could not possibly have seen her with Lachann. The path to the stable was not visible through the trees. She took the brush and forced herself to remain calm as she started on Catrìona’s hair. “What do you mean?”

“Do not play the fool, Anna,” Catrìona said with her usual ire. “You were gone two days to your horrid wee isle.
Two
days, and here we have guests!”

“You seem to have managed,” Anna replied in a far lighter tone than she felt.

“Not with my clothes. Not with my hair,” she spat. “Have you forgotten I have suitors?”

Ach, if only she
could
forget. “Your hair looked as bonny as ever when I saw you in the courtyard, Catrìona.”

The kiss had not made her forget the way Lachann had contradicted Catrìona to save Robbie and Angus from a beating at the hands of Mungo Ramsay. Anna could not imagine what the two had done to warrant such ill treatment, but her heart warmed at the thought of Lachann’s firm voice staying Catrìona’s hand.

Catrìona’s lips pinched tightly together at Anna’s mention of the courtyard. No doubt she was still annoyed by Lachann’s interference.

’Twas hardly a consolation that Catrìona would have to become accustomed to more such meddling once she wed him.

“What heinous offence did the lads commit that had you sending them off to the blacksmith for their punishment?”

“ ’Tis none of your concern.”

Mayhap not, but Anna dearly wished she knew what had transpired out near the chapel between Catrìona and Lachann. “You know Mungo Ramsay is a brute. He did not lift a hand to help MacMillan with the cart that hurt Davy MacDonall. Not even Kyla will ever allow him near her bairn—his own nephew.”

“What do I care of a worthless peasant’s opinion?”

“Naught, I suppose,” Anna replied, forcing herself to be gentle with the hairbrush. There were times when she wished Catrìona could be the recipient of Mungo’s brutality. Then mayhap she would understand not only the pain but also the humiliation of such treatment.

Anna was anxious for the morn, for the lesson Lachann had promised her. Mayhap it would take more than one session. . . .

Catrìona blathered about some imperfections in the way her laundry had been done, while Anna took a deep breath and tried to force Lachann MacMillan from her mind. It couldn’t possibly take more than one or two sessions for him to teach her how to wield a knife. And in any event, he had more important matters to deal with. She could not expect him to spend too much time with her.

Or to kiss her again.

“What is the matter with you, Anna?” Catrìona demanded. “Have you heard a word I said?” She shoved Anna aside, got up from her dressing table, and stalked across the room to the window. Her movements were grim and deliberate. She was clearly unhappy.

“Yes, I heard. Give me your sark and I’ll wash it again tomorrow.”

Catrìona picked it up from the end of her bed and tossed it to Anna.

“Is there anything else, Catrìona?”

Catrìona put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Did you see Cullen Macauley when you came in?”

Anna gave a shake of her head. “No one was about but the servants.” And one entirely too fascinating man from Braemore, but Anna had no intention of divulging any more information than was absolutely necessary. “Do you want me to ask one of the men to look for him?”

Catrìona pulled on a shawl. “No. ’Tis late.”

The lateness of the hour had not stopped Catrìona before. Everyone, except perhaps Laird MacDuffie, knew she slipped away from the keep on occasion to meet with her lover of the moment. Anna had never understood why she would do it.

Until now.

If Catrìona’s lovers kissed her as Lachann MacMillan had kissed Anna, ’twas no wonder her stepsister sought out such intimacies. ’Twould be so easy for Anna to let herself yearn for Lachann’s sensuous touch.

And absolutely disastrous.

Anna managed to get Catrìona to return to her dressing table. She plaited Catrìona’s hair and bound the end with a piece of ribbon. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go to—”

“The fire. ’Twill go out before the night’s half done.”

Anna knelt before the fireplace and added another brick. She made sure ’twould catch, then got up and started for the door. There were times when her servant’s role galled her. After all, Anna’s rank was no different from Catrìona’s. Her father, Gillean MacIver, had been laird of his own clan. Gudrun told her he’d been Laird of Kearvaig until his death, and the only reason Sigrid and Anna had left his lands was because of a falling-out with the wife of her father’s brother.

According to Gudrun, the rift had been due to jealousy, for when the uncle had made unwelcome advances toward Anna’s mother, his wife had blamed Sigrid and seen to it that Sigrid and Anna were driven from their own home. Sigrid had taken her wee daughter and her maid, and traveled to Kilgorra to wed MacDuffie, a man she’d met and liked well when he’d made an earlier visit to Kearvaig.