The Country Wife (5 page)

“There are many reasons to mistrust a nobleman,” she said stiffly and carried the pail of wash water outdoors to empty it.

Sighing, Callum rose and followed. She busied herself with her evening chores, shooing the chickens from the small fenced garden.

“Did you put in the garden yourself, lass?” he asked by way of making conversation.

“Nay, my fa—” She stopped herself in time. “My husband did most of the work.” She faltered as she uttered the lie. She was uncertain why she felt it necessary to do so except that he mustn’t know she lived here on Tollis Hill alone. As the new laird, he’d not want a valuable piece of land to be run by a mere woman. He’d want able-bodied men who could bring a profit.

“Where has your man gone?” His dark eyes were shadowed so she couldn’t read them, but she sensed a tension in the slant of his body as he waited for her answer.

“He’s…gone off to market.”

“Shouldn’t he have returned by now?”

“I-I…not yet. He said he’d be gone a fortnight.”

Callum stood before her, his hard gaze boring into hers. “What is your husband called?”

“Thom, Thom Hardy. Are you satisfied now? Or have you a hundred more questions to plague me with?”

“Coincidentally, your father was called Thom Hardy.” His gaze bored into her.

“How did you know that?” she stammered.

“I found his bible in the chest where you keep his clothes.” He shrugged as if his deed was of no consequence.

“You went through m-my father’s things?” Lilli straightened and glowered at him. “You had no right to do such a thing.”

“Aye, ‘tis sorry I am, lass.” He didn’t look sorry, Lilli thought.

“This time I will not forgive you, Laird Callum MacAlister.” She uttered his name and title venomously then planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “A fine way you’ve repaid me for my hospitality.”

“Why are you so angry?” he asked quietly.

As suddenly as her anger had come, now it fled, leaving her cautious and uncertain. She turned away from him, seeking to regain her wits, a hard thing to do with Callum so close beside her. Her head spun. As Lilli Hardy, surely she would protest at such an invasion of her father’s belongings. She just wasn’t sure anymore. Maintaining a false identity was harder than she’d imagined it to be.

Chapter Five

Lilli fled to the barn with the excuse she must tend to the milking of Blarach. She thought she was free of Callum and his relentless questions, but a sound made her look up. Callum stood watching her.

“What do you want from me now?” she demanded, rounding on him.

“Can I help you, lass? Two hands will make the tasks go quicker.”

Nonplussed by his offer, Lilli could only stare.

“Close your mouth, woman,” he said good-naturedly. “You’ve the look of a dunderhead about you.”

“And so I am at the thought of a nobleman doing such chores as are required around a croft. I’d guess you’d not even know how to go about things.”

“You can teach me. I learn quickly enough.”

“Humph!”

“Will you not give me a try without dismissing me so?”

Lips pursed, she regarded his grinning face. “All right, my laird, if you’ve a wish to play at being a crofter, I’ll show you. Have you ever milked a cow before?”

“Not yet, but I’d think it a good skill to learn.”

“Aye, it will stand you in good stead if you’ve no peasant to fetch your milk for you.” Before he could retort, she held out the milking stool and a wooden cog. “Her name is Blarach.”

Obviously stung by her superior attitude, he took the stool and settled himself beside the cow that rolled her head to look at him over her shoulder, placidly chewing her grain with wide bovine teeth.

“She’ll not bite, will she?” he asked cautiously.

“No, she’ll not bite,” Lilli answered and could barely hold back a swell of mirth. In the few days they’d been there, she’d become quite proficient in milking the cow. Some inner devil stole her natural empathy so she stared down her nose without an ounce of patience. Seated on the stool, Callum’s knees rose on either side of him.

“Go on. She’s waiting for you to begin,” she urged him piteously.

Callum regarded the cow’s udder and the dangling teats. He’d seen many a peasant manage this task. He had no doubt he could do it. So thinking he would just take the bull by the horns or the cow by the teats, he reached for an elongated nipple and tugged gently. Blarach rolled her eyes.

“She’s…she’s not cooperating,” he said somewhat helplessly.

Lilli gurgled with laughter. “I have no trouble, m’laird,” she answered pertly.

He gritted his teeth and tried again. He’d not fail in front of this insolent girl. He tugged more forcefully, eliciting a bellow of protest from Blarach. Her tail swished across his face. Behind him came the muffled sound of laughter.

“All right, old girl,” he muttered. “If you’ve a wish to play the game that way.” He wasn’t sure if he was referring to the cow or the impudent girl. He jerked on one of the teats and was rewarded with a stream of milk.

“God’s grace, I’ve got it now!” he exclaimed just before Blarach’s hoof lashed out and sent the stool flying. Callum sprawled in the mud and dung, the bucket flew upside down, flinging the precious, hard-won milk into his face

“Close your mouth, m’laird. You’ve the look of a dunderhead about you.” Lilli echoed his earlier words. Her laughter was no longer contained. It rang around the stalls until even he had to laugh.

Rising, he brushed at his breeches and dabbed the milk from his face with his sleeve and his rich chuckle blended with hers. His gaze met hers and her laughter died away. Her breath caught in her throat, and stillness grew between them, a waiting hush of expectation that seemed to communicate itself to him for he took a step forward and reached for her.

“No, don’t,” she cried, but when he drew her into his arms and bent his head to capture her mouth, her lips were soft and waiting for his touch.

“Lass,” he murmured hoarsely.

She swayed against him and he tightened his hold, crushing her to him. She was daintier than he’d supposed, but the soft fullness of her breasts against his chest fired his passion. Her scent, sharp and fresh as the sweet mountain air came to him. His hands caressed her back moving upward to tangle in her glorious hair and finally to settle at the back of her head so he might have better access to her soft, wondrous mouth. His tongue demanded and gained entrance.

He plundered, drinking in the taste of her, breathing the warm headiness. All the longing she’d aroused at the fireside came to him and he gathered her into his arms, carrying her to a fresh mound of hay. His body was stiff with need, throbbing with a consuming passion greater than he’d ever felt. He gave no thought to his earlier vow. She’d invited him with her glance and now he was prepared to take what she offered.

Except that she wasn’t offering. Her nails slashed across his cheek, her foot lashed out, landing a numbing blow to his thigh. An inch or two closer and he’d have no need of a woman ever again. Callum drew back, his reflexes still fuzzy with desire. Lilli took that moment of indecision to leap to her feet and take up a pitchfork, brandishing it beneath his nose.

“So much for a nobleman’s honor,” she cried derisively.

“You wanted it, too,” he raged, aware of how foolish he must look rolling in the hay.

“No, I didn’t!” She tossed her head in denial. “You forced yourself on me.”

“You kissed me back. You looked at me.” He leaped to his feet and faced her, his face a study of male outrage.

“Is every woman who glances at a man inviting him to ravish her, then?” she demanded.

“Aye, when she looks at a man the way you looked at me.”

“I didn’t! I was but laughing at you for your bungling and your arrogance.”

“But then you stopped laughing—” He was beginning to feel even more confusion. How had he thought her demeanor an invitation? Yet, it had been. He’d sensed something within her. “You looked at me the way a woman looks at a man when she—”

“A woman can look if she’s a mind, but I have no wish to mate with you,” she stated with perfect logic. “You can’t even milk a cow! What good are you?”

“I was about to show you.” He knew how illogical he sounded.

“Don’t you raise your voice t’me, Callum MacAlister.” Warningly, she raised the pitchfork. “I don’t care if you are the new laird. I’ll not be spoken to in that manner.”

Callum felt his anger melt away. Straw clung to her clothes and hair, yet she stood as regal as a queen, a warrior queen brandishing her pitchfork that way. His humor returned and he bent to brush at his clothes.

“We’re a fine pair,” he said. “All covered in hay and milk.”

“I am not covered in milk,” she replied haughtily. “I didn’t spill what little I gathered.” She set the pitchfork aside and sauntered past him, looking over her shoulder with evil glee. “Humph!” She offered her final condemnation of him.

He watched her stomp off toward the cottage with her skirts swinging provocatively, her slender ankles flashing and her hair brushing the tops of her hips with every haughty stride. Sighing, he turned to Blarach.

“Now, you miserable creature. You’re going to give me enough milk to feed the wee bairn or one of us will not leave this byre upright.” He settled on the stool, righted the pail beneath the cow’s udder and reached for the teat. A satisfying stream of milk poured forth and soon he’d settled into a rhythm that quickly filled the bucket. He wished
Miss High and Mighty
herself was here to see him now. She’d have to admit that noblemen were not to be so lightly dismissed.

Chapter Six

Triumphantly, he carried his pail of milk into the cottage and set it before her. He arched his brow mockingly and his grin was cocky. Not for anything would he have admitted he sought her approval; still he couldn’t help but swagger a bit. She looked up from feeding Rose and sniffed with disdain. Instantly, he knew she was about to sharpen her rapier tongue on him.

“Is that all you’ve gotten?” she scolded. “I’ll have to milk her again myself.”

“Well, if that’s not ingratitude, I don’t know what is. You’ve the heart of a stone.”

“Did you think to impress me with such a small showing?” Golden brows curved derisively over soft green eyes. “It’ll take more than that to dazzle even the simplest of country maids, and I’m not simple.”

“Nay, you’re not simple but you’ve the devil’s tongue about you. Besides I’ve no need to dazzle the likes of you,” he snapped unthinkingly and saw her eyes turn cold and flat with anger at his unintended offense.

“Nor I the likes of you,” she shot back. “Now take your helpless self away from me so I might do my chores.” She stuck her dainty nose into the air and turned back to Rose, cooing and laughing at the baby as if they were the only two souls in the room. Any words of apology he might have uttered died on his lips.

He stalked out of the cottage and climbed high up on Tollis hill to watch the clouds scudding across the sky. The temperature had dropped so he shivered in his thin shirt. Still, he was loath to return to the croft and Lilli’s slashing tongue. Instead, he settled on the wet ground beside the burn, cursing her mightily until he grew tired and rested his head on one arm and dozed fitfully.

“Are you daft?” Her words rang in his head, echoed through his dreams and brought him upright. She stood over him, hands on her hips, one foot tapping impatiently. Her flashing eyes were even more scornful than before and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming and she’d turned into a beautiful wraith that would always bedevil him. But she stepped forward briskly and touched his forehead.

“You’re a grown man, are you not? Haven’t you the sense not to sit on the wet ground in the rain. I suppose you think I’ve nothing to do but nurse you from your fevers.” She barely took a breath in her rebuke of him and he felt the old anger well as he leaped to his feet.

“Enough!” he roared, causing her to draw back in surprise. “Cease your carping, woman!”

His words lost momentum as he reeled dizzily. He shivered with ague and felt his knees buckle. She stepped forward and caught him against her slight frame.

“Leave me alone,” he mumbled, trying to push her away.

“Aye, and let you fall here in the mud,” she snapped. “Then who would carry you back to the croft? Come on with you now.”

She angled him back along the path. He stumbled trying to carry his own weight but was forced to lean on her more and more until he wondered how she didn’t buckle under the burden of him. She scolded him every step of the way, but her voice was strangely soothing, her concern for him comforting.

She put him to bed and spoon fed him some of her clear broth and stood over him threateningly while he gulped down a whole cup of a noxious, bitter brew.

“And you’ve only yourself to blame for laying on the cold wet ground when you’re barely over the fevers,” she replied, serenely ignoring his scowls and curses.

Still she tucked the covers around him and rested her hand on his forehead briefly before turning away, and he wished she would stay, touching him again in that gentle way while her sparkling eyes and words stung him.

He watched her move around the cozy cottage and remembered how he’d kissed her in the byre and tried to bed her in the hay. The memory of her scent filled his head even now and he lay thinking of the taste of her. She’d awakened a rare passion in him and he wanted to assuage it with her. No other woman would do, he was certain. Grinning, he drifted into a dreamless sleep with the memory of her soft mouth against his.

* * * *

Buttery sunshine poured through the window warming his face, giving him life. Callum opened his eyes and gazed around the neat cottage. The floor had been recently swept and all the plenishing put in order. Wee Rose rested in her makeshift bed, her face serene, her lips moving as if to suckle. Thanks to Lilli’s efforts, color had returned to the tiny face and the baby cheeks had plumped a bit.

He moved his head, searching for the slender form that moved so effortlessly from one task to another, giving comfort and nourishment. Disappointment swept through him when he saw the cottage was empty.