Yield to the Highlander. Terri Brisbin
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’Tis not playtime now. Catriona’s foot is hurt.’ As Cat watched, her friend peeled the children off, one at a time, and put them back in their places with a kiss on their small faces.
With a poke and a prod, her ankle was checked with a thoroughness that any healer or physician would be proud of and declared all was well. And the time it took for Muireall to do that gave Cat the opportunity to gather her wits and calm herself. Now, the blanket was too warm, so she rose, folded it and placed it back on the trunk where it belonged. When she turned back, Muireall stood there before her.
‘Are you well?’ Cat could hear the sceptical tone underlying the words.
‘I was out of breath from running to get out of the rain and then tripped. I am well now, though.’ Cat leaned over to glance and nod at the children. ‘What can I help you with today?’ she asked. If she’d thought her friend would be diverted, she was wrong.
‘So explain to me how a near fall into a puddle leaves you looking well kissed?’
* * *
He lost track of how long he stood there in the teeming rain. His body ached from her brief but arousing nearness and from the hot taste of her mouth. Every moment of the brief encounter refuelled his desire for her.
The way her eyes had widened as he clutched her to him, avoiding the muck and cold of the puddle. The way her mouth had dropped open as she met his gaze. The way she had tasted as his tongue explored her mouth for that brief, brief caress. His body bucked again, his cock full and aching to be within her, as he thought on the kiss.
And, though her reaction was not the one he wanted, Aidan finally saw the fire that always lay banked within her gaze. The slap had surprised them both—the flare of shock and then anger had turned her eyes to an icy blue. His cheek yet stung from the sharp reproach for his behaviour. That she had done it did not anger him.
’Twas her words that bothered him as they put his entire campaign out between them. Seduction was simply a game to play while waiting for the more serious parts of his life to commence. While waiting to take on more duties and while waiting for that much-discussed wife. It was what men, especially young men, did. But now, in the cold, steady rain that helped to cool his ardour, it seemed tawdry and small-minded.
Especially for the son of Connor MacLerie. For the man who would some day rule over the vast lands of the MacLerie clan.
No matter that he wanted her and would bed her if she came willing, this game had to end. He would no longer contrive to meet up with the lovely Catriona MacKenzie in the village, on the roads or in the keep. No matter that the kiss had fired his blood in an unfamiliar and exciting way. None of it mattered for the woman had refused him.
He wiped the rain from his face and walked back to where he’d tethered his horse. Vaulting on to its back, he gathered the reins in his hands and guided the animal through the muddied lanes and up the hill to reach the keep. With a call to the guards on duty at the gate and on the walls surrounding the yard and keep, he entered his home.
His fascination with Gowan’s wife would be a thing of the past. His attempts to seduce her had gone unnoticed and would remain just some harmless fun between them.
Just some harmless fun.
His father would have tasks for him. His mother would wish to discuss his thoughts on the potential brides. As he climbed the steps to enter the great hall, leaving his mount with a boy in the yard, he realised that the one objection to any of the women named—he did not wish to consider a MacKenzie bride because he was pursuing one of her kin—was now moot.
* * *
The butcher’s son was delivering supplies to the keep and was not happy about it. Young Ronald, named for his father and his father before him, had the unhappy duty of following the cart to the kitchens and unloading it. Being only ten, it was a torturous assignment for it kept him from splashing his way through every puddle in the village during a storm such as this one.
Finally finished and dismissed by his uncle, Young Ronald ran from the keep, jumping over the rivers of water that traced patterns and grooves down the hill to the village. Knowing his friends would be waiting by the end of the lane, he raced through the mud, almost losing a shoe to the sticky, gooey mud that sucked at his every step.
He spied what looked to be a deep puddle off to the side and would have raced through it, but a woman and a man stood next to it. Veering around the small house in his path, he came out the other side just in time to see the man grab the woman up and kiss her.
Shuddering and grimacing against the horror of it, he waited for them to move on so he could plunge into the puddle, which now looked deep enough to call a pool. A moment later, the woman slapped the man holding and kissing her and pushed away.
Good that, it meant they would leave sooner and he could have the puddle all to himself. Better, he knew if he told his oldest sister Meg about who was kissing whom in the shadows during the storm, she would reward him with a warm tart. Or one of her special pies. Sighing over memories of how his sister’s baking tasted and smelled, he stepped closer to get a look at who these two were.
The man was the earl’s son. Kissing women—Young Ronald could not help that he grimaced again—seemed to be something Aidan MacLerie enjoyed for he was always in the village visiting this one or that one. He shrugged and was ready to leave, for the young lord kissing a woman was so commonplace it would get him no reward at all, when the woman turned and he saw her face.
Old Gowan’s wife.
Old Gowan was one of the earl’s best soldiers. He’d even showed Ronald how to wield a sword—well, a wooden one—and shown him how to duck a blow. He knew Old Gowan and he knew Old Gowan’s wife. And sure enough, that was her that Aidan MacLerie kissed.
Meg would probably give him an extra tart for this news!
The two left, each going in their own way, giving Young Ronald an open path to the puddle. As he jumped and landed in the centre with both feet, the water exploded around him and rushed in waves over the side of the big hole that formed it. Now, more empty than not, it would take time to refill.
So, he wiped his face and ran off to find his friends, the secret he carried forgotten for the time being.
Chapter Six
Once the weather broke and the storms finally ceased, the ground began to dry out. Villagers and those living in the keep all sought out the fresh air and began to emerge like ants from their nest. Though most duties could not cease simply for rain, those who could avoid going out in it had. And, as was the usual occurrence during forced time indoors, tempers flared.
His father insisted on fair challenges and fights to sort through disagreements among his warriors, so the fair weather brought forth many of those. Once the work was done for the day, those challenged and those defending gathered in the yard. Though he was neither, Aidan would not mind a chance to work out the tension in his body.
With the sun setting so early, there was not much light left. Aidan called out to Angus and Caelan when he noticed them by the fence and went to watch the first matches with them. Young Dougal, Rurik’s son, stood at the ready for the next match. He probably bore no one a grudge—the young man just loved to fight. With only Munro missing from their group, the fight began. It took no time at all for the crowds to gather and the betting along the outer fringes to begin, too.
But the murmurs that passed through the crowds just then had nothing to do with the men fighting within the fence there. Elbows nudged and heads leaned closer to whisper some bit of gossip about someone walking towards the keep. As he leaned away and looked to the person causing the comments, a sick feeling hit him like a punch in his gut, its sourness spreading into a very bad taste of bile in his mouth.
Catriona MacKenzie walked alongside the steward’s sister, heading for the keep. He noticed that she glanced behind her as people passed, clearly aware of the whispers and pointed staring in her direction. When those whispers and stares began to include him, he knew for certain that someone had witnessed