Margo Maguire (8 page)

What if he
had
kissed her? The very idea caused her to breathe a little shallower.

Is this what happened when a woman lay with a man? Did her body yearn for his touch, his caress? Anna tried to think of something else, anything to divert her attention from the man’s incredible appeal. She did not want this, did not want to feel aroused by MacMillan or any other man.

Yet her heart warmed when she thought of how quickly he’d reacted to Kyla’s distress on the pier, and his masterful dealings with Birk at Janet’s cottage. Birk was not a small man, yet MacMillan had pulled him off her and lifted him to his shoulder while Anna had lain on the floor, looking up at his tightly muscled legs with his plaid swirling about his knees.

She’d never seen a more sensual sight.

’Twas something Catrìona would soon have the right to appreciate at her leisure.

Anna shuddered at the thought of Catrìona ogling those mighty limbs and, for a moment, wished her stepsister would choose Macauley instead.

But that would be the worst thing possible for Kilgorra. After the devastating pirate raid that occurred last summer, the islanders realized they needed a strong leader. They needed to be able to defend the isle against raiders. But they did not want Cullen Macauley to take the laird’s place.

It all rested upon Catrìona.

Anna had never understood Catrìona. They were supposed to have been sisters. Catrìona was six years older than Anna and knew what it was to lose her own mother. She should have understood Anna’s grief. She should have helped her through it.

But she’d taken perverse delight in tormenting Anna in every possible way, from intentionally burning her arm with a hot ember when no one had been looking, to pushing her out of a small curragh when Catrìona had received permission to row her wee sister ’round the harbor.

The fishing boats just happened to have been returning at the time, and someone had seen Anna flailing about in the water. They’d fished her out of the frigid sea, and of course Catrìona had blamed Anna’s clumsiness for the “accident.”

Anna had not been able to contradict Catrìona’s version of what had happened, but to this day, she had a healthy respect for—mayhap ’twas more a fear of—the open sea. Gudrun had helped her to master her fear to some extent, but not enough for Anna to consider taking her curragh ’round Scotland’s coast and trying to sail to the Norse lands.

Anna had grown up, and so had Catrìona, whose second greatest delight seemed to be ordering the servants about.

Her first pleasure was trysting with the occasional sailor who came to the isle to trade, and a few foolish island men like Eòsaph Drummond. The thought of Catrìona taking her pleasure in Lachann MacMillan’s bed turned Anna’s stomach.

Wee Douglas whimpered softly next to Kyla, and Anna quickly went to the bed and picked him up to keep him from waking his mother. ’Twas pointless to dwell on Catrìona’s marital choice. Anna had naught to say about it.

“Ach, my bonny lad,” she whispered as she settled the bairn next to her on her own blankets. “Can you not let your poor mam sleep just a bit?” Anna did not think the bairn was hungry, for Kyla had fed him not long ago. ’Twas likely he was just restless and out of sorts in the unfamiliar cottage.

Douglas smiled and cooed, batting his wee hands at the air. Anna used to think she’d like a few bairns of her own, but she knew better now. ’Twould take a man to accomplish that, and she knew of no marriage that had either lasted or been happy.

The last thing Anna wanted was a husband. Her heart’s desire was to leave Kilgorra—leave the isle that had been her prison home these past eighteen years—and find her mother’s family. If only she had the wherewithal to leave, she would go in a minute.

But first she would have to convince Kyla to come with her.

Chapter 11

I
n the predawn light the next morn, Lachann allowed himself to imagine he could see Braemore from the window of his bedchamber. He knew ’twas only a fleeting fancy, but he also knew that Braemore lay to the southwest. Exactly the exposure of his window.

He turned away and pulled on his clothes. Kilgorra would be his home, and he would learn to love it as he’d loved Braemore. He would develop friendships here as deep and as full as those he’d enjoyed within his own clan.

And there was no reason his family and friends could not visit the island. If they were to be allies, Lachann would want his brothers to become familiar with the place.

Sometime during the night, between his moments of restless sleep, Lachann had decided he could win Catrìona from whatever influence Macauley had over her. ’Twas only a matter of being pleasant with her. More pleasant than Macauley.

Anyone with an ounce of sense would know she ought to be more interested in the suitor who had already promised a significant bride price for her.

Mayhap her attention to Macauley was merely a strategy to make Lachann desire her more. Lachann could play her game, but he preferred a more straightforward approach. In all things.

The sun’s rays were just beginning to cast their light across the white peaks in the sea far below his window, so Lachann decided ’twas not too early to go down to the great hall in search of his future bride. He met no one in the gallery, and in the great hall he saw the last person he ought to feel any interest in.

Anna knelt before the large fireplace near the dining table, sweeping out the ashes from last night’s fire. As she stood, she startled at the sight of him.

“Ach! I did not hear you come in.”

“I did not realize my steps were so light,” he said. “You appeared to be lost in thought.”

A streak of dark gray ash graced her chin, and Lachann resisted the urge to move closer and rub it away with his thumb. Her shapely brows dipped over her blue-green eyes. “Aye. I was thinking of my friend, Kyla . . .”

“Her husband found—?”

“Ach, no,” Anna replied, and her frown of worry was as pitiful as any he’d ever seen.

He would have liked naught but to smooth it away. With his lips.

“I made sure she stayed hidden away from him because I know what he would do.”

Lachann reminded himself ’twas none of his concern. Nor was the hint of a dimple that appeared in the lass’s cheek every time she spoke.

He glanced toward the staircase. “Has Laird MacDuffie come down yet?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “The laird and his daughter are not early risers. And he has been suffering frequent headaches lately. If you care to break your fast, our cook will be pleased to—”

“Simple fare will do.” Lachann did not doubt the old man had been having headaches. With the amount of whiskey he consumed, who wouldn’t?

Anna started for the stairs that led to the kitchen, and Lachann followed. “Flora always has porridge ready for the servants. If you don’t mind that, I’ll bring a bowl to you.”

“Aye, porridge will do, but I’ll just take it in the kitchen,” he said. He didn’t think Duncan would be happy about him going down to eat with the servants, but Lachann had never been one to stand on ceremony.

And when he became laird, there were going to be numerous changes. The household might as well become accustomed to his ways now.

Lachann followed Anna down the stone steps and considered the inefficient design of the keep. ’Twas archaic. The kitchen should be much closer to the hall and on the same level at least. Else the servants—like Anna—had to struggle with heavy trays as they made the climb up to the hall.

At least the kitchen was large and well appointed.

The cook—Flora?—was an auburn-haired woman at least a decade older than Lachann, and she gave him a look of surprise when he ducked under the lintel and entered her domain. “Be at ease, woman.”

“Anna?” she whispered anxiously, her cheeks blushing madly.

Anna laughed, and a tightness between Lachann’s shoulder blades eased slightly. He had not even realized the spot was so taut. “Our guest has come for a bowl of your famous porridge, Flora.”

“Famous, hmmpf!” Flora scoffed. She stood at her table looking unsure. “Only porridge, Laird?”

“Aye,” he said simply, though he was not yet laird. ’Twas a struggle to keep his eyes from following Anna as she moved on bare feet about the kitchen. She poured milk into a saucer, and when she set it on the floor by the door, the black and white cat came running silently to it.

Lachann found himself captivated by the sight of Anna’s fingers sliding into the wee beast’s fur, petting her while the cat purred loud enough to be heard all through the kitchen.

He swallowed thickly and turned to Flora, who took a bowl from a cupboard and spooned some of the hot, thick mash into it. She glanced in Anna’s direction, but the younger woman had moved on and was busy collecting water into her bucket from the kitchen cistern. Flora wiped her hands on her apron, then took the bowl and handed it to Lachann hesitatingly.

“Thank you.”

“Wait,” Anna said, putting down her bucket. She took the bowl from Lachann’s hand and ducked down to a low cupboard near the stove. She took out two small bags, then sprinkled some of their contents onto his breakfast. She returned the bowl to him with the hint of a smile in her eyes.

Lachann looked into it. “What did you add?”

“A few spices. Taste it and see if you like it,” she said. She picked up her full bucket and disappeared up the stairs.

Lachann must have stood watching overlong, for it wasn’t until Flora spoke to him that he realized he’d been staring. “Sir?” she asked. “Would you care for tea as well?”

He declined on his way to the door, where he stepped outside into the chilly morning sunlight. The waves were crashing upon the rocks below, and the sound was both invigorating and disquieting.

Lachann knew something of ships and the open sea, for he’d gone years ago with his cousin Iain MacQuarry on his trading runs to and from Ireland. Iain’s crew had been well trained and well armed in case of troubles.

Pirates had come, but only once during Lachann’s single season with his cousin. A pirate ship from the outer isles had attacked MacQuarry, who’d refused to yield to the rogues’ demands. There’d been a vicious battle, but Lachann’s cousin had prevailed because of some heavy guns and a well-trained crew.

Lachann intended to train the Kilgorrans in much the same way. If all went well, he would order another brig like the
Glencoe Lass
to be built for the purpose of guarding the isle’s seaways.

But too much rested upon Catrìona’s whim. Lachann did not appreciate having come this distance only to find his intended bride being wooed by a Macauley. He would set matters right as soon as he got a feel for the isle and began recruiting its men.

He walked ’round to the garden and sat down in a sunny spot, where he took his first taste of the porridge. ’Twas far more flavorful than what was served at Braemore, and he appreciated the additions Anna had made.

He also appreciated the gentle movement of her body as she’d worked efficiently in the kitchen, then hastened up the stairs to the great hall. He might have sworn off beautiful women after Fiona, but he was not unaffected by the sight of one.

’Twas clear Anna was more than just a bonny parcel. It had been quite obvious to Lachann that the collapse of her friend on the pier had taken her completely by surprise. In spite of that, she’d reacted swiftly and capably, acting with confidence in her every move.

Lachann hardened his heart. Determined to keep his thoughts focused and far from the kind of trouble the comely maid would bring him, he considered what to do. Demand that MacDuffie banish Macauley from the isle?

Nay. His pride would not allow it. Lachann was going to vanquish Macauley this time in his own way. He would marry Catrìona and become laird of his own realm. No man would take that from him.

Lachann heard a footstep behind him at the same time as a most unwelcome voice rose above the crashing waves below.

Lachann’s stomach clenched when he turned and saw his adversary approaching.

“You’re up and about early, MacMillan,” Macauley said.

Lachann continued eating, as though Macauley’s presence had no effect whatsoever. “What are you doing here, Macauley?”

“Waiting for the cook to prepare a decent breakfast for me.”

Lachann ground his teeth. He’d just as soon take his dirk to the man’s throat as sit there and look at him. “You are more a fool than I’d thought, Macauley,” he said. “What are you doing on Kilgorra?”

Chapter 12

A
nna did not know what she could possibly have been thinking, yattering at Lachann MacMillan in the great hall and again in Flora’s kitchen. Her mind had been full of thoughts of him when he’d come upon her so quietly in the hall, and she hoped she’d adequately covered her inappropriate musings by speaking of Kyla.

And then she’d given special attention to his porridge. Her behavior had been perilously close to flirtatious.

Never before had she done such a thing, and she had no intention of repeating it. Lachann MacMillan had naught to do with her, and the sooner he married Catrìona, the better ’twould be.

She hurried down to the pier with her basket of provisions, enough to last for several days on the isle. Kyla would be safe there for as long as Anna could keep her there. Birk would not dare come for her, as he might do at the castle. He was terrified of the
sluagh dubh,
and Anna knew Kyla had never corrected his misconception about the wicked spirit.

She heard children’s voices as she headed back up toward the castle. Among the trees at the beginning of the path, she discovered Angus MacLaren battling his young cohort, Robbie Kincaid, using wooden swords. The young castle maid, Glenna, looked on in awe of their prowess, adding to each lad’s bravado.

Anna laughed. “Shouldn’t you be up at the castle by now, Angus?”

“We’re goin’, Anna!” Angus shouted with a dramatic flourish of his weapon. “But first, I must defeat my enemy and run him through!”

“Ah! I thought Robbie Kincaid was your friend!”

“Nay!” Angus growled. “He is a pirate from Lewis who’s come to steal our whiskey!”

Glenna frowned. “I thought ye were fightin’ fer my honor, Angus MacLaren!”

Angus lowered his sword and turned to gape at Glenna. “Yer
what
?”

Robbie took advantage of the moment and slid his own sword between Angus’s arm and chest, “killing” him. “Ye know better than t’ turn yer back on yer enemy, Angus!”

“W
hat am
I
doing here?” Macauley’s tone was flippant. “Same as you, I imagine, MacMillan.”

“Aye?” Lachann stood and faced his rival, but he forced himself to relax. “Looking for yet another wife? Did you think this time you wouldn’t have to steal her?”

Macauley bristled. “Fiona MacDonald came to me willingly—”

“What happened to her, Macauley?” Lachann growled.

Macauley put his hands on his hips and spoke in an offhanded manner. “She sickened and died.” There wasn’t a trace of sorrow or regret on his face.

Gesu,
but he was callous. “Died of what?”

“She was
my
wife, MacMillan,” he said, “and a private matter. So ’tis not your concern.”

Lachann’s dirk was strapped to his calf. At this distance he could draw it and throw it, skewering Macauley where he stood. And yet the heat of emotion no longer drove him.

He started to leave, but stopped dead still at Macauley’s next words. “ ’Tis said the MacMillans have become the wealthiest clan in the northwest.”

Lachann turned to face him. “So now the Macauleys have taken to listening to rumors?”

“Only the important ones.”

’Twas disturbing to know that his family’s enemy had been keeping track of MacMillan fortunes. That knowledge reinforced Lachann’s suspicion that Cullen had learned of his plans to wed Catrìona and take control of the island.

And that was the reason the bastard had come.

“Here is an important one, and not a rumor, either,” Lachann said as he walked back to stand two paces from Macauley. “If you interfere with my plans here, I will kill you.”

Macauley’s insouciant expression faded slightly at the threat, but he said naught as Lachann took his leave and headed for the stable. While he meant what he said, Lachann wasn’t one to waste time with useless talk, and the encounter with Macauley had not only been useless, it had left Lachann with a sour taste.

He had much to accomplish, and he assumed Duncan and Kieran had already left the castle for the southern coast. Deciding ’twas time he followed his own orders and visited the farms in the highlands south of the village, he started for the stable but stopped when he saw Anna and her injured friend slowly making their way toward the castle gate.

Anna had washed her face clean, and she carried her friend’s bairn in her arms, along with a heavy satchel slung over her shoulder. The friend appeared none too steady on her bare feet, but Anna led the way, step by step. Mayhap she was taking the lass home.

Which might well be disastrous.

Lachann did not—could not—allow his misgivings to sidetrack him. Besides, he was in a foul mood and did not care to impose it upon anyone. He needed a great deal more information about the isle before firming up his plans and speaking to Laird MacDuffie about what he intended to do.

“C
an you make it down the hill, Kyla?” Anna asked her friend. All she wanted was to get Kyla to Spirit Isle. There, she and Douglas could stay for a couple of days and not have to worry about Birk.

And mayhap when they were finally over there, Anna could stop ruminating on Lachann MacMillan and the shivery sensations he elicited with his touch. Or the welling in her chest when she recalled how close his lips had come to touching hers.

She needed to remember he was going to be her laird, and nothing more.

“Aye, I can walk,” Kyla replied. “Birk didn’t cripple me.”

“No, thank the Lord.”

“But I should go home.”

“No. Not yet.” They both knew Birk would not be sober for a few days, and he was a danger to Kyla while he was drunk.

’Twas clear that something had to be done about him, but to date, his father had been able to do naught, and pleas for assistance from the laird had gone unanswered. Laird MacDuffie had taken to sleeping at all hours of the day and leaving the management of his household to his daughter. He took no interest in the affairs of the village, and there was no other Kilgorra man who would intervene. They all believed ’twas up to a husband to discipline his wife however he saw fit.

Anna feared Birk would kill Kyla one day, for his outbursts of temper seemed to grow worse by the month. One day, he would knock her down a flight of stairs or into the sea. . . .

There had to be something Anna could do. She just had not thought of it yet. “The birlinns will be out already.” Though Birk was not likely to be among the fishermen. “We ought to be able to get to the isle without anyone knowing we’re gone.”

“Anna . . .”

“I wish you would not argue with me about leaving.”

“I fear ’twill only make Birk angrier if he cannot find me for days.”

Anna swallowed hard.
This
was why she would never marry. She knew of no man she would ever trust to have such power over her—power to beat her whenever he felt the urge. The power to dictate where she would go and with whom. The very thought of being trapped the way Kyla was made her shudder.

But then there was the sweet bairn in her arms—and Anna would never have a child of her own. It caused an ache that she quickly tamped away.

“You must decide, then,” Anna said, frustrated with her friend. “Come to the isle with me, or go home to Birk.”

“Anna, one day someone is going to figure out that there’s more to Spirit Island than they ever thought.”

“Even if they did, do you really think they would risk an encounter with the
sluagh dubh
to find out?” Anna asked, confident that the long-standing tales of the horrible, restless spirit would keep every Kilgorran away.

Years ago, one of the Kincaids had gone to the isle and something had happened to him. He’d come back a beaten-up wreck, blathering about a malevolent spirit that had tormented him within an inch of his life. Anna suspected the man had always been a wee bit cracked in the head, for there was no horrible spirit on the island.

Or perhaps someone had pulled a prank on him.

Nevertheless, the superstitious islanders believed Anna and Kyla had learned how to placate the imaginary wraith and keep it from coming to the main isle, so they were never discouraged from going there.

“If you want to go home, I’ll walk you up to your cottage,” Anna said, though it hurt to say it. “Mayhap Birk will be contrite when next he sees you. He usually is.”

As they walked through the castle bailey, they heard Mungo’s hammer in the blacksmith’s shop, so they circled ’round behind the building and left through the castle gate.

“I do not like the way Mungo watches me with Douglas,” Kyla said once they’d reached the path. “ ’Tis as though . . .” She shook her head.

“What?”

“Sometimes I think he would take Douglas from me. Mayhap harm him.”

Anna did not know everything Mungo was capable of, but she did not think he would have any interest in a bairn—even if ’twas his nephew’s child. He was far more interested in watching Catrìona and doing her bidding, even when she ordered him to discipline the castle children.

She shuddered at the thought of it. “Come on. Let’s get as far away as possible.”

They’d walked less than halfway down to the pier when a single horse approached from the castle. Anna knew who it would be. Her heart gave a little trill of anticipation in her chest, but when she looked up, Lachann MacMillan merely slowed his horse slightly when he reached them.

L
achann was sorely tempted to stop and offer his assistance to Anna and her friend, but he heard Duncan’s voice in his head quite clearly, reminding him that the lass was a servant in the house he would soon rule. Her problems were not his, and if he made them so, he could very well alienate Laird MacDuffie and his daughter.

In spite of Duncan’s admonitions, Lachann stopped and dismounted.

“I’ll take that for you.” He took the satchel from Anna’s shoulder and put his arm ’round Kyla’s waist to assist her down the path.

Duncan and his advice could go hang. ’Twas not in Lachann’s nature to let a woman in this condition struggle on without assistance. He would have lifted her onto his horse, but he feared hurting her even more.

“Where are you going?” he asked Anna. “Shouldn’t you stay where—”

“Just down to the pier. Kyla will be safe.”

“On a boat?”

Anna hesitated before answering. “No. I’ll take her to our island.”