Chapter One

      She was not the usual type of woman to catch his eye, but she had.

      Aidan MacLerie decided to stop and quench his thirst at the well in the middle of the village on his way back to the keep. His men had continued on up the hill to the wives and families who awaited their return while Aidan paused. This place was one of his favourites for finding companionship of the female kind and he’d rarely been disappointed.

      He dipped into the bucket and watched her approach over the rim of the cup as he drank from it. She did not walk as much as saunter, her lush hips swaying as she crossed from the path to the well. She carried a bucket in her arms, pressing against breasts he imagined were as shapely as her hips. From the kerchief she wore to cover her hair, he knew she was a married woman, or mayhap his other favourite—a widow.

      Widows were fair game for his attentions. And they were experienced in lovemaking and the way of the world around them, so they held no illusions about the place any affair held in his life. She glanced up and smiled softly at him, making his body harden and ready itself for pleasure.

      Oh, aye, she would be different from his usual bedmates, but pleasure would be theirs. She would be his.

      ‘Good day,’ he said, smiling back at her and standing as she moved closer to the well. ‘Here—’ he reached out for the bucket ‘—allow me to fill that for you.’

      ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said in a voice that sent spirals of desire through him. Feminine with earthy, lush tones that matched the rest of her. She would cry out his name in that voice soon as he filled her and as he led her to reach her own release. He distracted himself by tossing the well’s bucket down and then pulling it up when it filled.

      ‘You know who I am?’ he asked. Aidan did not remember ever meeting this woman before.

      ‘Aye, my lord,’ she said, taking the now full bucket from him. ‘You are the earl’s eldest son.’

      ‘Aidan,’ he said. He needed to hear his name spoken by her mouth. His cock stood, his flesh tingled and his blood seethed in anticipation. ‘My name is Aidan.’

      ‘Aye, my lord,’ she said. She began to back away, nodding in courtesy, but he had no intention of allowing her to escape before he discovered her identity.

      ‘You have me at a disadvantage, mistress. You know who I am, yet I do not remember meeting you.’

      ‘We have never met, my lord. I am Catriona MacKenzie,’ she answered. She met his gaze and he took note that she was older than he’d first thought, possibly older than he.

      ‘How did a MacKenzie come to be in Lairig Dubh?’ The MacKenzies had been adversaries of the MacLeries for a long time until Aidan’s brother-by-marriage, Rob Matheson, had forced both clans to negotiations that eased the tensions between the two most powerful clans in the Highlands.

      ‘I married Gowan MacLerie.’ Simple and direct and it might have dashed a lesser man’s hopes. But not his.

      Gowan was one of Rurik’s men and a good deal older than both Aidan and his wife. And he was a skillful trainer of warriors who was often away from Lairig Dubh at the earl’s other holdings. He smiled then, the possibilities expanding with every moment. Not willing to let her get away yet, he stepped closer and took the bucket from her and motioned for her to lead him.

      ‘Allow me to carry this for you,’ he said.

      She looked as though she would argue for her lovely mouth pursed and her deep-blue eyes flashed like ice. But after a very short hesitation, she turned and led him down one of the smaller paths that headed towards a cluster of cottages. And Aidan took advantage to study Mistress Catriona MacKenzie as she walked in front of him.

      Wisps of dark brown hair escaped her kerchief and Aidan fought the urge to pull it free. He wondered if her hair would fall below that beautiful arse of hers and sway as she walked. Reaching down and using the bucket to cover his actions, he tugged his trews loose to allow for the erection that was not going to ease. At least not until he’d found a way to get Mistress MacKenzie in his bed, naked and writhing and open to his touch.

      She turned down a path to their left and stopped before the last cottage. Glancing around, he listened for any sign that others were nearby. Although he did not usually seek out married women, he did not ignore them either and this was one he’d decided to pursue. He would be discreet and not embarrass her or her husband unnecessarily, but he would have her.

      Soon.

      She turned to face him, holding out her hands to take the bucket. Instead, he put it down and took one of her outstretched hands in his, lifting it to his mouth. A slight tug gave away her nervousness, then she acquiesced.

      ‘My thanks for your assistance, my lord,’ she said, trying to put a distance between them that his grasp made impossible.

      ‘Until we next meet, mistress,’ Aidan whispered.

      He kissed the top of her hand and then turned it over and placed his mouth on her wrist. He met her gaze and slowly touched the tip of his tongue to the place where her pulse beat close beneath the skin there. Her surprised gasp echoed in the stillness around them.

      Aidan released her hand, trying not to stare at her breasts as he noticed the way her nipples had tightened and were visible through the fabric of her gown. He smiled and did not hide it, as she crossed her arms over her chest and drew her shawl up on to her shoulders to cover herself.

      Turning without another word to her, he strode back along the path towards the well, memorising the way as he went. Aidan could read the excitement in her body and hear it in the way her breathing became shallow and quick. His next visit would be under the cover of darkness, so he paid attention to the number of paths and cottages and other details. By the time he arrived back at the keep and reported to his father, his plans for this newest seduction were set.

      Mistress Catriona MacKenzie would be warming his bed, or he would warm hers, very, very soon.

      * * *

      Cat stood like a statue, unable to move or to look away as the young lord strode down the path. The skin of her wrist was warm and moist from the touch of his mouth and tongue. Bold and brash, Aidan MacLerie had kissed her as though she was a young girl and as though she wanted his attentions.

      Which she did not.

      Still, she watched until he passed out of her view and a wicked part of her hoped he’d turn back to look at her once more. Those cat-like amber eyes of his never wavered while he studied her. She’d seen the earl one day and now she knew that his son had inherited the father’s good looks and colouring, especially those eyes. She shivered now, but feared examining the reason too closely.

      Cat lifted the bucket from where he’d left it and carried it inside. Tossing her shawl aside, she poured some of the water in the waiting jug on the table and the rest into the waiting cauldron in the hearth. She moved about the room, gathering together the ingredients for the stew she would make for their evening meal, trying all the time to ignore the feelings that pulsed within her. Once the meat and vegetables were in the pot, she tugged off her kerchief and laughed.

      Boredom must have driven him to flirt with her at the well. Boredom plain and simple. For, truly, what other reason could explain it? She was older than he was—almost six years stood between them if she had heard correctly. She was married to one of his father’s men. And, no matter if her body trembled and her skin and blood seemed on fire from his