Highland Master (6 page)

“Nay, not even for a moment. I ken the mon. He visited Banuilt many times when my husband was still alive. I have also heard what has been said about him by his own men. My husband may have been passionless, humorless, and so pious he would make a nun feel like a sinner, but he was e’en of temper and ne’er raised a hand to me. I kenned, from the first moment I met Sir John years ago, that he would think nothing of beating his wife. Most of what his men say about him confirms my first thought—that Sir John is quick to anger and quick to inflict pain when he is angry.”

She had grown into womanhood under the rule of such a man, and she refused to step back beneath the hard rule of another. It was not something Sir Brett Murray needed to know, however. Triona had to admit she would also feel a little embarrassed if he knew how she had suffered under her father’s rule.

Triona looked to the side when Brett rested his other hand beside her head. It brought his body so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of him. She looked from his hands to his face, frowning in response to the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“I think we had best return to the manor now,” she said, yet did not seem inclined to move despite how much she told herself she should.

“In a moment.”

He did not wait for her to think long on what was about to happen but just kissed her. Brett brushed his lips over hers, savoring their soft warmth. He quickly recognized that she was not a woman well experienced in kissing, and silently cursed her husband. For her sake only, however, for a part of him was pleased that he might be able to give her something her husband never had. A woman married to a man for six years who did not know how to kiss was a woman who had suffered a cold bed, and he could show her heat, he was certain of it.

Triona trembled and then fought to go still. His mouth on hers was so warm and surprisingly soft for such a big, hard man. The way he stroked her lips with his, teased them with his tongue, had a fire starting low in her belly. Before she even thought about what she was doing, she grasped his jupon in her hands to cling tightly to him. The way he nudged at her lips with his tongue confused her for a moment, and then she cautiously parted her lips.

Shock swept through her when he plunged his tongue into her mouth and began to stroke the inside. Nothing had ever made her feel so alive, so excited yet afraid at the same time. She wanted more, wanted to get even closer to him, and yet also wanted to pull away and run. It was almost too much to endure.

When he pulled away, she stared at him, dazed. Then he tilted his head a little and smiled. It was such a satisfied, manly smile that she was torn out of her bemused state quickly enough to make her head spin. Triona fought to pull her dignity together, stiffened her spine, and pushed him back away from her.

Giving him a look she hoped told him exactly how improperly he had behaved, Triona marched off toward the manor. She would have liked to have left him with some sharp, scathing words, but she feared her voice would reveal how very far from angry she was. The fact that she could even walk steadily astonished her, because her whole body still trembled from the force of all that his kiss had made her feel. Triona had never been kissed like that. Boyd had pressed his mouth to hers from time to time, especially when he was wooing her, but he had never put his tongue into her mouth. She would have wondered what the man was about, except that she had seen others kiss like that.

She arrived at the manor and was nearly to the door of her bedchamber before her heart stopped pounding and her blood cooled. She went inside and walked straight to the bowl of washing water. It was cold, but that was just what she needed. After splashing some of the chilled water on her face and pushing away the last of the heat in her blood, she wiped her face and then flopped down on her back on the bed.

The sensible part of her told her that any kissing of Sir Brett could not happen again, that anything that made her blood run so hot was dangerous and should be avidly avoided by any woman who wished to remain pious. A greater part of her wanted to do it again. That had been passion. That had been what made Joan blush like a maiden whenever her Aiden winked at her. That was what she had hoped to find in her own husband’s arms, only to be bitterly disappointed.

She was going to have to think about this, Triona decided. Think long and hard. The man was not going to stay at Banuilt forever, was not wooing her for a wife, and so she had to consider how kissing him would appear to her people. Joan seemed to think she worried too much about appearances, yet it was important. For her to be the laird the people of Banuilt needed, they had to respect her, and people often showed very little respect for women who went about kissing men who were not their betrothed or their husband.

And that kiss had made her want far more than just another kiss. There was an ache in her body that cried out for more. Triona was astonished that she would ever want to try bedding a man again, and yet she was sure that was what her body craved. She also could not stop wondering how it would feel to bed down with Sir Brett. What she needed to do was decide just how much she was willing to risk to enjoy another kiss, or more.

 

 

Brett grinned as he watched her walk away, her nicely rounded hips swaying with each angry step. Her kiss had been sweet, all he could have imagined it would be. Even better, there had been no ghost, no hint of Brenda’s specter. He had not even scented his old love’s perfume.

He took a few deep breaths to clear away the lust clouding his mind and began to walk toward the manor. Triona McKee had a lot of passion hidden inside her body, and he wanted to taste it all. Brett began to wonder just how long it would take to seduce her.

His conscience suddenly reared its unwelcome head and he softly cursed. Lady Triona McKee was a respectable widow, a laird, and a woman troubled by a neighbor who was trying to force her into marriage so that he could grab her lands. It would be unkind of him to play the game of seduction with such a woman. Triona had more than enough trouble to deal with.

The problem was, his body wanted her and did not care about such considerations. Brett doubted he would ignore any other chance he found to kiss her and hold her nicely curved body close to his. He tried to comfort his conscience by reminding it that he had no designs on the woman’s lands, would never force her into marriage to steal the laird’s seat from her, but he knew it would still be wrong to try to seduce her.

Despite her years of marriage, Brett was confident that Triona was innocent of a lot that could be shared between a man and a woman. That, too, tempted him. He wanted to be the one to show her all the pleasure they could share, pleasure he was certain her pious, passionless husband had never given her.

“And wasnae that a waste,” he muttered as he walked through the gates.

“What is a waste?” asked Callum.

Brett turned to see the younger man leaning up against one of the open gate doors watching him. There was a look in Callum’s eyes that told Brett he might well have seen him kissing Triona. There was a hint of anger there. It annoyed Brett to be condemned for his actions, even silently, and yet he also appreciated how Callum already felt the need to stand as Triona’s protector.

“I was just thinking that m’lady’s husband wasted his years with his wife,” Brett said. “She called him passionless, pious, and humorless. I suspect that describes not only her husband but her whole marriage. The man was a fool if I am right. He was wed to a fair wee lass who is none of those things.”

“She is, however, a good woman, one with a heavy burden to carry,” said Callum.

“I ken it.” He sighed and stared at the heavy wooden doors leading into the large manor house. “I ken, too, that she had a cold marriage and now has a bastard trying to force her into what would be a hard marriage with a hard mon.”

“Yet ye try to seduce her.”

“Nay, not yet. I but kissed her. I want to seduce her, but it appears my conscience is wrestling with my desires and I am nay sure which one will win yet.”

“At least ye ken it would be wrong.”

“By most people’s thinking, aye, but I am nay sure it would be wrong. She is, after all, a widow of five and twenty.”

“True enough, and such a one is often just the sort of woman a mon could comfortably sate his lusts on, but I believe Lady Triona is no worldly widow who could take a lover and be at ease with it.”

“I believe she worries over losing the respect of her people if she does take a lover, nay her own heart. She doesnae see that the people here all love her. To them she is Banuilt. She may have been little more than a child when she came here, but she quickly became all to these people. What happened during and after the fever tore through the village and manor only confirmed that in their minds and hearts.” He held up a hand to silence the words Callum was about to speak. “I will nay put that at risk for her, so I will make sure of my opinion ere I decide what to do. Just ken this—I badly want the lass and she wants me. Neither of us is too young or too innocent to nay ken our own minds. I will also ne’er promise her anything I cannae give and will make her understand that ere I do anything.”

“Fair enough, for ye are right. Ye are both grown and she isnae some virgin lass.”

Brett started for the manor and Callum fell into step beside him. “What did ye think of Sir John?” he asked.

“Arrogant bastard, and ye are right. If she is forced to take him as her husband, to save these people, she will find herself wed to a hard mon and one, I think, who will fully try to break her to his will. He will probably have nay trouble bedding her, but he sees her as nay more than a key to these doors.”

“Find out all ye can about him. He has powerful friends and she cannae get their liege laird to take her word over Sir John’s. He has to have a weakness, something we may be able to use to change their liege’s opinion of the mon. Proof of his crimes would be better, but anything to lessen his advantage o’er her will help.”

“That I can do. Dinnae worry. I needed but one look at the mon to ken that he would be poison for Banuilt and e’en more so for Lady Triona.”

Brett thoroughly agreed with that assessment. Sir John would crush Triona’s spirit until she was no more than a shadow of what she had been. He may not have the most honorable intentions toward Triona and her lush little body, but he was determined to see that she never had to suffer the hell that would be marriage to a man like Sir John Grant.

“Tri, I have been talking to ye for nigh on ten minutes and I dinnae think ye have heard a word I have said.”

Triona blinked as she looked at Arianna. Her cousin looked amused, not angry or insulted, and that was a relief. She knew she had been lost deep in her thoughts. The way Sir Brett’s kiss had made her feel continued to unsettle her, and she could not stop thinking about it. She could still feel the hot press of his mouth against hers, even though it had been three days since he kissed her. Such passion was unknown to her, and she was not sure she liked it. Yet, while her mind fretted over the alarming strength of the feelings his kiss had stirred within her, every other part of her savored them and wanted more.

Her confusion was not something she particularly wished to confess to. It was bad enough that Arianna already had a good idea of how carefully Triona had to watch her resources. They were in the great hall doing mending because the fire had already been lit. It was more practical to work where there was a fire burning than to waste good fuel by lighting a new fire in her sewing room. Arianna said nothing, but Triona knew her cousin noticed those small attempts to save resources. That and the serving of hearty stews instead of plain meat. Every woman knew how much that saved the contents of a larder.

“I am sorry,” she said, and carefully folded the shirt she had been mending. “Matters are so unsettled at Banuilt, as ye ken weel, and all those troubles ofttimes consume my thoughts.”

“I am nay surprised. These are verra fine lands ye have here, and ’tis distressing that one greedy mon would act so, just to steal them from ye and wee Ella. For this must one day be hers, aye?”

“I believe it should be, but Boyd left it all to me with a command that I see to a hearty dower for Ella. It was his to do with as he pleased, and as long as I swear fealty to our liege, I can sit here as laird. I brought a heavy purse to him when we were wed, and he used it to better what was nay much more than an old peel tower with a few additions. Naught too grand, but weel enough. The village was as it is now but nay truly thriving. If I had had a son, I suspicion that this would all be his, but I didnae.” She reached across between their seats before the fire and lightly touched Arianna’s stomach. “I ken I asked ye this once before, but do ye wish for a son?”

“I truly only wish for a healthy, living bairn,” Arianna said quietly as she stroked her stomach. “I cannae believe I have put the bairn at risk with my flight from Scarglas. ’Twas most foolish, but I was so angry and so humiliated that all I could think of was getting away from there, away from a place where I was certain everyone thought me the greatest of fools.”

“I dinnae think ye have risked the bairn, Arianna. Ye must be several months along, and I suspicion ye didnae have a hard ride to get here. Those guardians of yours would not have allowed it. It takes a lot to shake a bairn free of the womb once it is settled in.”

“I lost a bairn once when I was wed to Claud.” Arianna sighed. “There was ne’er another. I thought I was barren, that mayhap losing the bairn had hurt something inside of me.”

“’Tis obvious that it didnae.”

“True, but that doesnae mean I should go riding about the countryside when I am with child. The fear of losing this bairn has been strong, but my fury at Brian wiped it from my mind.”

Triona smiled. “Nay, ye probably should not have come riding o’er hill and dale to come here, but if ye had hurt the bairn, ye would surely ken it by now, and truly, it isnae easy to shake one free of the womb. If ye had trouble breeding when ye were wed to Claud, it could have been his fault. He may have had a weakness.”

“That is what Sigimor’s wife, Jolene, told me when I was fretting about ne’er being able to give Brian a child.” Arianna saw Triona frown in puzzlement and explained the relationship of the Camerons and the MacFingals. “I am certain that, if I had e’er spent time thinking on who my husband would be, what his family would be like, and how a life with them would be, I would ne’er have pictured anything akin to the MacFingals and the Camerons. They are an odd lot. Ye just cannae imagine how odd at times. They do make life verra interesting, however.”

“Aye, I imagine so.”

“So, what is to be done about this Sir John Grant?”

“Struth, I dinnae ken what to do, and that is the trouble with it all. What he does is impossible to fight and impossible to prove. ’Tis all sneaking about and breaking things like some angry, spoiled bairn. We ne’er catch his men at it, so we really cannae go demanding justice. Despite how much his own people dislike him, I dinnae think they would betray him by giving us the proof we need. So for almost two years we have done naught but fight to get enough work done to survive, e’en as we spend far too much of our precious time fixing what new damage he has done.”

Arianna frowned. “Is it because he cannae abide a lass holding this land?”

“I am certain that is some of it, aye. He has verra little respect for women and thinks them weak-minded. And though I may be called the laird, we are nay fully a clan, nay like the ones to the north.” Triona set aside the rest of her mending and sighed. “Nay like the Murrays or the MacFingals. I am laird simply because I hold this land. Banuilt is close to the Lowlands and the Borderlands, so we also have a fair mix of people who call this land home. E’en a few true Highlanders. From what history I learned of this land, that has always been so. Many of the villagers are descended from drovers who passed through, liked it or found a lass, and once they had completed the business that had brought them this way, returned and settled in. There were even a few reivers who fled here and just stayed.”

“As I said, it is a beautiful place and has all that is needed to be a rich, fertile land. That is such a blessing.”

Triona nodded. “Boyd’s first wife’s forefathers kenned it. They also kenned ways to make what wasnae quite so perfect here even better. I have studied their writings verra carefully. Sadly, Boyd’s first wife’s father wasnae quite as clever, and Boyd had no interest in such things. None at all. The only thing he did care about was training with the men, hunting, and going off to dine with our liege laird or e’en to the king’s court.”

“But ye did care and ye did the work, aye? Mayhap that is also why he left it all to ye. It might also be why Sir John wants ye bad enough to do all this trickery and sabotage, to try to force ye to wed him.”

“I see that Nessie has been talking.”

Arianna grinned. “She was ranting about it all as she helped me with my clothes,” she said and then grew serious. “Ye must nay let him force ye into a marriage.”

“Were ye forced to marry Claud?”

“Nay, not as Sir John is trying to force ye. It was a marriage my family badly wanted me to make, and when I first met Claud, he was handsome and verra charming. I truly thought we could have a verra good marriage, e’en a loving one, in time. No one kenned about his wife, or e’en heard the talk of her being his mistress for years. His family hid that verra weel. They needed the dower I brought to the marriage.”

“As Sir John wants what I would bring to a marriage.” She grimaced. “And as Boyd wanted that coin I was bringing when he wed me. It would be nice to be wanted for oneself just once, to be taken as a wife simply because the mon cannae think of life without ye in it.”

Before Arianna could reply, Angus rushed into the room, stumbling to a halt in front of them. “Men at the gate, m’lady.”

“Grant?” she asked as she stood up.

“Nay. Sir Brett says it be her husband,” he replied and pointed at Arianna. “The mon isnae verra happy.”

“Och, nay?” Arianna stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Weel, ye can tell him that I am nay verra happy, either. Ne’ermind, I shall tell him myself.”

“Wait!” Triona grabbed her cousin by the arm when she started to march out of the great hall. “I think ye shouldnae meet him outside, where all can hear what ye may have to say to each other.” She waited until Arianna took a few deep breaths and calmed a little. “Go to the sewing room. I will send him to ye. Then ye may have privacy to sort this out.”

Arianna nodded and Triona walked beside her as they left the great hall, Angus following close behind them. Triona’s plan to keep her cousin’s marital discord private ended just outside the doors of the great hall. A tall, black-haired man strode in, coming to a halt the moment he saw Arianna, and then he glared at her.

Triona’s first thought was that her cousin had married a very handsome man. Then she saw the anger in his dark blue eyes. Afraid for her cousin, she looked at Arianna only to find the woman glaring right back at her husband, no hint of fear in her stance.

“Have ye lost all your wits, woman?” he demanded in a voice that echoed throughout the hall.

“Woman? Did ye just call me
woman?
” Arianna responded in a voice that was not much softer, yanking free of Triona’s grasp and walking right up to her husband.

“Why did that make her so angry?” Angus asked Triona, leaning in so he could be heard over the yelling that Arianna and her husband were indulging in. “She
is
a woman.”

“Angus, it wasnae the word, it was the way he said it,” Triona replied and sighed, wondering how she could get the furious couple out of sight of the people now gathering in the doorway or slipping up into the hall from the kitchens. “E’en the most sensible word can become an insult if ye say it in the right way, and he did.” She was a little surprised to see Angus look thoughtful as he slowly nodded.

“Och, now that is odd.” Angus frowned. “How can a mon forget a wife?”

“A very good question, but I think they shouldnae be discussing that right here.” She moved quickly to grab her cousin by the arm. “Arianna, this should be private.” She shook her cousin a little when the woman ignored her.

“What?” Arianna snapped, and looked at her. “I need to make this fool understand a few things.”

“I am sure ye do, but mayhap ye should make him understand in a place that is a wee bit more private. Ye are drawing a crowd,” she added more quietly.

Arianna looked around at the people avidly watching her and Brian fight, and then blushed. “Where is the sewing room then?”

Knowing the angry man staring at his wife would follow, Triona led Arianna to the sewing room, opened the door, and pushed her inside. Sir Brian followed just as she had known he would. Triona wondered if that grunt he made before shutting the door after him was the way he thanked her for showing them to a more private place. Then the shouting began and she sighed. They might be behind a closed door, but privacy was lost unless they finally lowered their voices.

“Ne’er seen Brian so furious,” said Brett as he stepped up beside her.

Triona looked at him and then looked at the door, frowning in sudden concern for her cousin. “He willnae hurt her, will he?”

“Nay. I would ne’er have let ye send them in there alone if I thought he would. The mon would ne’er raise a hand to her.” He winced when Brian bellowed something about foolish women not giving a man a chance to defend himself. “’Tis clear he has no trouble raising his voice to her.” His eyes widened at Arianna’s somewhat coarse reply. “Nor does she have any problem shouting right back. Marriage to a MacFingal has certainly given my cousin a lot more spirit than she used to have.”

“Weel, emotions are running high, I believe.”

“Och, aye, they certainly are.”

Triona turned to see a lot of her people plus Brett’s men and six new warriors all crowded around. “They may nay have the sense to keep their voices down, but this is a private matter between husband and wife. It would be nice if we left them to it, dinnae ye think so?”

Callum grinned. “Nay, but for ye we will do so.”

She watched everyone move away and then looked at Brett. “Is Callum your cousin?”

“Nay by blood. The connection comes through my father, who was fostered, and Callum was found and taken in by my cousin when he was but a boy. A long, sordid tale, but it turned out verra weel for the boy.”

“He is verra good to children. It has been a long time since I have seen the children here so taken with a mon they were nay kin to, and see that mon return all their attention and affection.”

“Aye, Callum loves them. When he was a lad he made an oath to be a protector of all children. His keep, left to him by his grandfather, fair swarms with them. ’Tis rare that we pass through any village or town where he doesnae collect another poor waif. And God help any mon or woman he finds who is being cruel to one.”

Triona began to express her admiration for Callum’s kindness when her cousin suddenly wrenched open the door and marched out. Arianna looked as furious as any woman she had ever seen, her skin flushed with anger, her eyes alight with it, and her small hands clenched into tight fists. It suddenly occurred to her that there was more behind her cousin’s anger than hurt that her husband had not told her everything about his past. Arianna was smart enough to ken that few men told their wives everything they had done before meeting them, and while forgetting to mention a previous wife was a bit extreme, it should not be tearing Arianna up as it was. Triona did not think all this high emotion could be fully blamed on the fact that Arianna was with child, either.

“We are nay done talking,” said Sir Brian as he stood in the door.

“We are for now,” Arianna snapped. “I just cannae talk to ye anymore.”

A look of something that resembled fear went through the man’s eyes as he watched his wife stride away. Triona had the strange urge to pat him and say something soothing. Then he scowled at Brett.

“She isnae listening to sense,” he complained.

“I think ye both need to take a wee breath,” said Brett. “Tempers are too high right now. Ye should step carefully, Brian. The lass is carrying your child, and raging at each other cannae be good for her.”