Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel (6 page)

Aileana returned Leah’s cloak to the peg by the door, determined to find a way to keep her hands busy. Just as she entered the main room of the kitchens, she heard a familiar voice that always made her smile.

“Come here, Aileana.” Margot stood in front of the long worktable, her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?”

She needed to feel her auntie’s arms around her. “I-I…”

“Speak up, lass.”

Drawn into a tight hug, Aileana let her head rest on Margot’s shoulder. She shivered with sadness. The careful control she’d kept on her emotions disintegrated and tears filled her eyes. Margot tsked and held her away from her body so she could see Aileana’s face.

“What happened?”

“Have you not heard the rumors?” She palmed the tears away.

Margot’s jaw tensed, but her gentle blue eyes showed nothing but compassion. “These little twits say many things, and if I took them all to heart, I’d find an early grave. Edme is waiting for us in the larder. Come…” She handed Aileana a basket. “We need help transferring some meat. We’re expecting MacKenzies tonight.”

Aileana gladly took the basket. Margot kept a protective arm wrapped about her shoulders as she led her down a narrow corridor and a set of stairs. Several cavernous rooms carved from stone were located partially underground. Cooler air greeted Aileana as she entered the largest cellar, wall torches providing enough light to see the racks of meat hanging on iron pegs hammered into the stonework. Edme stood before a wild boar with a knife.

“See who the young master brought back to us,” Margot announced as she encouraged Aileana to step deeper inside.

Edme turned around and smiled. “And where did ye think you’d be able to hide?”

“I’m so sorry,” Aileana sniffled, never able to hide her feelings from these two dear women.

Spinster sisters, they’d loved her unconditionally from the moment she showed up. Edme had gotten a wet cloth and cleaned Aileana’s face and hands while Margot worked quickly to put together a meal. They sat with her at the servants’ table, watching her eat so fast she was sure to have the worst bellyache of her life. But they didn’t discourage her. And only when she’d finished the last hot bannock did the questions start. That’s all she remembered from her first night in the MacRae keep. She woke up the next morn in bed with Edme, wrapped in clan plaid and pleasantly warm. And in the eight years she’d lived under their guidance and protection, not once had they raised their voices at her or beat her.

“The laird came to the kitchens looking for you,” Margot said.

“Acted as if ye were his own flesh and blood.” Edme put the knife down on the worktable and wiped her hands on the towel draped around her waist. “Did you run away because Broc asked for yer hand?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”

“Once Errol left to find ye, Broc requested a meeting with us. Imagine how flattered we were that he took the time to speak with us before approaching the laird.”

“But he doesna love me.” Aileana leaned on the wall to steady herself. “ ’Tis my fault. I’ve hidden the truth for too long. I wanted to protect you from the vile things Broc had done. I know you admire him.”

Margot looked to her sister first, then back at Aileana. “Has the man hurt ye?”

“Just my pride.” Anger welled up inside her. Keeping quiet had done more harm than good. “Whenever you weren’t about, and usually after the fool had drank too much ale, he’d lumber in and try to have his way with me.”

“His way?” Edme sounded furious.

“He touched me,” she explained so there were no misconceptions about the man. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“The deceptive arse had us both believing his intentions were honorable,” Margot said. “Wait until I see him again.”

“No, please.” Aileana shook her head. “I am the cause of too many problems already. Errol…”

Edme tilted her head sideways and stared unblinking. “You address the laird’s son too informally, child.”

“What happened on your trip home together?” Margot asked.

Aileana regarded her thin face. “Nothing of note,” she said. “We spoke of little, we were too desperate to make it back to the keep before we froze to death to think of anything else.”

She would never tell them about Sgùrr, or the kisses she’d just shared with Errol at the loch. But if she weren’t more careful about how she spoke of the laird’s son, someone might guess they were intimately connected. ’Twould be better to walk about with a blindfold on than be forced to look upon Errol’s handsome face and not be able to openly admire it. She’d have to remind herself multiple times a day to avoid him. Just a mere thought about Errol gave her gooseflesh.

“I believe you,” Edme said. “But that doesna change how I feel about the captain. Broc can never be trusted again. If you willna permit me to speak with him, then I will talk to the laird.”

“I beg you to give it some time first,” Aileana said. “Master Errol is familiar with the situation. And after the fight last night…”

Edme clicked her tongue. “You weren’t spared Muriel’s wagging tongue?”

“She speaks truthfully, Auntie.”

“Only when it serves her needs,” Margot shot back.

“I am the cause of the strife between the laird’s son and Broc. If I had come to you right away, none of this would have ever happened.”

Further explanation wasn’t required. Her aunties encircled her, wrapping reassuring arms around her. Aileana let their protective warmth sink in. How she wished life could always stay this way. But childish hope would not improve her situation.

“Aileana?” a masculine voice called from behind.

All three women turned, to find Errol standing in the doorway.

Aileana’s heart raced. What did he want with her? Hadn’t he tormented her enough today? She eyed his soft lips.

“Answer the master,” Edme said.

“You mustn’t keep him waiting.” Margot gave her a gentle nudge.

She sighed, then broke away. “Milord?” She curtsied.

“We must talk alone,” he said gruffly.

Oh God.
His tone suggested misery of some sort.

“Sir.” Edme stepped forward. “My work is nearly done here. I would gladly chaperone…”

“We don’t require supervision,” he said sharply at first. But then his stony expression softened. “The lass will be safe with me.”

“Of course.” Edme bowed her head.

“Come.” He gestured for Aileana to follow him.

Reluctant to leave her aunties behind, Aileana walked slowly into the corridor, fearing what he’d say next. But instead of talking, he simply gripped her elbow and steered her faster down the hallway, then turned into one of the less used cellars. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot, then turned around, his eyes smoldering with need.

“We never discussed the fight…”

“Don’t talk, Aileana.” His mouth crashed over hers, forcing her to swallow her words.

His strong hands settled on her waist and he tugged her into his chest. All the things she’d promised herself earlier, like staying away from him, had been for naught. The moment their lips met, desire sparked to life inside her. She’d mistaken it as a whim before—but once in his grasp again, her fingernails digging into the sleeves of his linen shirt, she knew it to be false. He withdrew long enough to suck in a ragged breath and she stared into the flames of his eyes. What did he want? Bedding her would solve nothing. And she refused to give up her maidenhood to a man who didn’t care deeply about her.

She had his protection. But the first and only man to ever make love to her would offer his heart. And they’d hardly spent enough time together to share even their most basic beliefs.

“I need more, lass.”

She shook her head vehemently. But it didn’t dissuade him; once again her protest was lost in an equally passionate kiss. He tasted of ale and meat—smelled of fresh linen and smoke. It frightened her how willing she was to taste and touch him with sweet abandon. Women were tasked with promoting everything moral. But she’d lost her way the moment he called her name from the doorway in the cellar. And judging by the looks on her aunties’ faces, they knew it well, too. What other reason would Errol seek her out?

After they finished with each other in the shadows of the storage room, she’d crawl to the chapel and beg forgiveness for her impure thoughts. For her wanton behavior. For wanting to lift her skirts and let this beautiful man do whatever it was men did to women in the dark. She’d heard the moans and groans in the corners of the great hall late at night, after anyone of quality went to sleep. Now she understood.

Errol’s skilled hands slipped below her waist and around her hips, cupping her arse and lifting her to his body. She instinctually wrapped her legs around his middle, locking her ankles behind him. Their gazes met, and she felt his rapid heartbeat against her own breast. Never thinking it possible that she’d have the same effect on him as he did her, it gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. Another sin of significance—pride. She’d been raised to be humble and silent in the presence of her superiors. But how could she submit to such pleasure without enjoying it, too?

“I have news, lass,” he whispered near her ear.

Chills spiraled down her body at the feel of his breath. “What news?” she asked.

“The kind that binds us together forever. The kind that requires a second and third taste of you before I share it.”

He dipped his head. Their tongues swirled together as he crushed her to him, his body growing more rigid by the moment, his erection pressing against her core.
Dear God, this couldna happen. Not here. Not ever.

She pulled away. “Please,” she begged. “We can’t keep meeting like this, doing this. My mind isna capable of anything else whenever you’re near me.”

He chuckled. “The sweetest confession I’ve ever heard.”

That confused her. He enjoyed making her suffer? “You’d keep me defenseless?”

“I’d keep you close,” he said, setting her on her feet.

Aileana considered their futures unchangeable. Errol had his place in the world. But she, the lowest born, had nothing but bleak prospects to look forward to. “You are noble,” she said. “I am a bastard.”

“Don’t speak that way.” He held his finger to her lips. “Your unfortunate birth is no concern to me. Only the woman standing before me matters.”

“Why?”

He rested his palms on her shoulders. “Broc asked my father for your hand in marriage this morning.”

She swayed a little, but managed to stay upright. So were these stolen kisses, then? Errol’s twisted way of saying goodbye before he turned her over to the great bearded fiend she no longer could stand the sight of? “I respect and serve the laird,” she said with confidence. “But I refuse to marry that man.”

“Rest easy,” he said, a sad smile on his face. “I spoke on your behalf.”

“Ye did?”

“Did I not promise to protect you?”

“Aye.”

“I never break an oath, lass—regardless of the consequences.”

“Thank you.” His blind allegiance humbled her.

“Doona thank me yet,” he said. “There’s more to tell.”

She looked away and hugged herself, feeling very much alone. ’Twould have been better if she had gotten lost atop the mountains or died of hunger and cold. Standing here trying to guess what Errol was going to say next terrified her. What future had his father chosen for her? Did he have the right to do so? Would she accept it, obey the man she owed so much to?

“Lass?” Errol tipped her chin upward. “In order to keep Broc from marrying you, I had to pledge your hand to someone else.”

“No.”

“There’s nothing you can do, the laird has spoken.”

“I will run again,” she threatened. “Isn’t my life my own?”

“Not anymore.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she swiped them away before they fell. She must remain strong. “Then who does it belong to?”

“Me.”

What more did he need to say to make her understand? His answer rang with finality. From the day Errol drew his first breath, his life had never been his own. It belonged to Scotland and his father, to the people that lived on MacRae lands. So taking control of his betrothed seemed natural. Why should she fear it? Women seemed much happier when they were married with children. The good Lord gave purpose to everyone. And being a wife and mother were the holy duties assigned to females. He’d read the passages in the Bible himself.

“What do you mean?” Aileana asked.

“We are betrothed now.”

Her bottom lip quivered. “It canna be. I am unfit to be your wife.” Aileana appeared like she desperately didn’t want to believe him. Her assessing gaze swept over him, no longer filled with desire. “You free me from one nightmare and deliver me into another.”

“Nightmare?” The cutting accusation lingered like smoke in the air. Stepping closer, he claimed her delicate hand. “Do you deny our attraction? Does the idea of being the future Lady MacRae turn your stomach? Don’t you want to share my bed, lass?”

She tried to jerk free, but he held her hand tighter. The poor lass had strong flight instincts. Perhaps that’s what brought her to his home all those years ago. Had she willingly fled her home? Had something tragic scared her away from her family? Although he’d like to know, he meant what he said earlier. Her inferior birth didn’t matter. What woman could resist the idea of becoming his bride?

“Tell me what concerns you.”

Her eyes flared. “I don’t command respect from the people who serve your family. I am little better than an outcast. Have you ever heard the way the women talk about me? The awful things they say? I’m a different man’s whore every week. When Broc started sniffing about the kitchens, they accused me of bewitching him, for what bastard could catch the eye of such a distinguished warrior?” She sighed. “And now I will suffer even more. Yer the object of nearly every maid’s favor.”

Errol’s arrogant grin surfaced. “Including you?” If only she’d smile again.

He wanted to hear her laughter for the first time, wanted to see the glint of merriment in her lovely, sad eyes. She may not be the woman he dreamt of taking to wife, but something about her kept bringing him back. And if he had his way, within a few days he’d have her flame-colored hair fanned out across his pillows and his cock buried deep inside her. He sucked in a ragged breath then, lust building inside him.

This time she succeeded in sliding her hand free of his grip. “Ye don’t need my praise, sir. From the look on yer face, you already know the answer.”

His smile broadened. “So you do like me?”

She rolled her eyes, then nodded.

“We’ve found common ground, then.”

It would take time to win her trust and affection. But he wasn’t finished sharing important news yet. His father had also decreed that the betrothal should be announced tomorrow. Not much time for a wee lass to adjust to her vastly changed circumstances. Part of Aileana’s allure lay in her untamed spirit—the need for freedom—whatever she considered it to be. Afraid she affiliated it with Sgùrr and the life she led alone on top of that godforsaken peak, he knew he’d have to work doubly hard to convince her otherwise. If it meant having her guarded day and night, so she wouldn’t bolt, so be it.

Though he preferred letting her be the girl she’d always been.

“What if I reject your offer?” she asked, determination pinching the spot between her lovely red brows.

“On what grounds?”

She swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “I am no MacRae.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “But in a short time you will be.”

“Only when I say yes.”

“Say it.” Fear of rejection overwhelmed him suddenly and he grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. Their faces were mere inches apart and he could feel her warm breath on his skin. “The time for games is over.”

“I am not teasing you, sir. How can you expect me to rejoice when I’ve had so little time? Let me share this news with Edme and Margot.”

Her request was acceptable. “Granted.”

She closed her eyes. “Thank ye.”

“Look at me, Aileana.”

She did.

“You will meet me by sunset at the entrance to the great hall. Before the commencement of the eventide meal.”

She bit her lip. “But I’m expected to help prepare the food, then serve it.”

He studied her curiously. Intelligence dwelled behind her expressive eyes. Yet somehow she maintained an endearing naivety that made him smile. She didn’t understand what marrying him meant. “Your duties are suspended, lass. Now the women will be expected to serve you like a queen. And if one dares to disrespect you in my presence, or within earshot of any of my captains, the punishment will be severe.”

“You’d do this for me?”

“You’ve forgotten what a devoted man I am, Aileana. But I blame myself. For too long I’ve shunned my responsibility and acted more a king’s fool than the laird’s son. People will talk behind our backs. What matters is how we present ourselves. Will ye embrace the idea of me becoming your husband? A united front will protect us, but if we appear disingenuous, the gossipmongers will feed on our weaknesses.”

Her tearful gaze surprised him. He wanted to comfort Aileana, but when he opened his arms, she retreated a step. “Not now,” she said. “May I go?”

“There’s one last thing I must tell you.” Sympathetic, he still couldn’t put off the truth any longer. “My father will announce our betrothal tomorrow night.”

“Of course,” she said, then walked around him and left the room.

Did she think him less affected by their situation? Hours ago he was a free man. There were still beautiful women he wanted to bed. Places he wanted to go. But all those selfish needs were buried the moment he pledged himself to Aileana, both victims of circumstance. Yet the more time he spent with her, the more he liked the idea of taking her as his bride. No other woman had inspired his fierce protectiveness to come out. And when he imagined Broc’s filthy mouth kissing her, it fueled his rage.

He made his way back to the great hall, where preparations were under way for the retinue that would arrive later this afternoon. Peace in the western Highlands was tentative. And with the crown solidifying its ties with the MacKenzies, anyone that served that clan faced the same threats they did. Plans must be made. Treaties and oaths must be renewed. For as long as Errol could remember, the MacRaes were considered the Mackenzies’ shirt of mail. And that kinship could never be broken. Tested, but never severed.

“Master Errol.”

What did Cameron want now? Hadn’t he fulfilled all his father’s wishes already? Just as Aileana requested, he too needed time alone to think. “Did I forget something?”

“Nay.” The man’s eyes were bloodshot.

Errol gripped his arm. “What is it?”

“Your father. Please, come quickly. He collapsed.”

The news pierced his heart like an enemy’s arrow. He flew up the stairs and into his father’s chamber, finding him sprawled unconscious on the floor, a trickle of blood stained his chin. Servants filed into the room. Errol knelt and gently lifted his sire off the ground. He carried him to his bed and Cameron whipped the fur aside. Positioning him on his back, Errol then arranged some pillows under his head.

“Bring the healer,” he barked at the closest maid. “And fresh water and linens so I can clean his face.”

Laird MacRae was not a young man. His illness had taken hold six years ago, starting with a hacking cough in the dead of winter. The following spring, he seemed to recover, but as the months passed, he lost his hearty appetite and weight—the first signs that death lingered. But consumption couldn’t cripple his da, the man refused to stay abed for more than a couple days at a time. Clan business required his presence, so he sat in the great hall like any laird, settling squabbles between his tenants and welcoming chieftains from neighboring lands.

But this moment had been fast coming. Errol gazed down at his father. He covered him with the fur and rested the back of his hand on his forehead, checking for fever, knowing the lung disease brought hot sweats and cold chills with it. Then he leaned close to the laird’s nose, listening to his breathing. Steady but slight. What relief he could find in that, he took willingly. His sire would live another day. But could he rule? His captains would have something to say about it, especially with MacKenzies on the way.

Although allies, any sign of weakness would force the MacKenzie laird to question MacRae defenses. And in Kintail, with the barbarous MacDonalds at hand, it was unacceptable. Lairds didn’t lead from their deathbeds. That’s what sons were for. And being his only child, Errol knew better than anyone what that meant. He might gain a clan and wife on the same day.

A maid returned with a bucket and the linens he requested. “Set the pail on the floor, lass.”

He dipped the cloth in the water, then sat on the edge of the mattress. With a cautious hand, he wiped his father’s face clean. He dropped the soiled linen on the floor and grabbed a fresh one. This time he folded it in half, then left the cool compress on his da’s forehead. At this point, all he could do was wait for the healer. She had black spleenwort and other herbs that could ease the laird’s discomfort and help him breathe better. Then it hit Errol. Maybe he should summon the priest. Perhaps prayers were needed more than remedies. Not caring who watched, he covered his father’s left hand with his.

“I don’t know if ye can hear me, Da, but I want you to stay. It’s too soon for ye to go.”

Errol could hear women weeping in the corridor, and was that Cameron murmuring verses? Damn the world for condemning such a good man to a slow death. Errol deserved punishment, not his father. He squeezed his hand, regretting not having told his sire how much he admired and loved him.

Sometimes words weren’t enough, but it would make all the difference to his da. “If you survive the night, I swear you’ll grow weary of how many times I say I love ye…”