Highlander's Prize (25 page)

“So now that ye have the information ye wanted, Brother, get ye gone,” Nareen insisted.

His lips twitched again, and satisfaction appeared in his eyes. “Ye judged me correctly, Nareen.” He kept his eyes on Clarrisa as he spoke and actually reached up to tug on the side of his bonnet before he disappeared.

Another ripple of sensation traveled through her, but this one was warm. Many would label her a fool for enjoying the man’s approval, but she did.

“Men,” Nareen muttered. “I fail to understand what God was thinking when he created them.” One of the maids sputtered. She was young and stared at her mistress.

“When there are no men about, we may be truthful at last,” Nareen informed the girl. “They have no tolerance for it, though. Best ye remember that.”

Clarrisa laughed. “Your brother might be an exception. I believe he was amused by my insults.”

Nareen shrugged. “Possibly. But he’s here so rarely, I forget he is entertained by me more than he is offended.”

The maids had placed two large kettles on hooks and pushed them into the hearth where they’d built a fire. Water was beginning to boil and escaping over the top. The drops sizzled on the sides of the hot metal. Another set of footsteps was heard on the stairs, and Nareen waited while a woman entered with a clàrsach.

Clarrisa stared at the small harp. “Really, you need not pamper me. I am not a princess.”

“Ah… but ye need no’ tell anyone such and deprive us of the chance to listen to our harper while we work.” The women in the solar laughed good-naturedly as Nareen began to unlace the back of her gown.

A woman set the wooden harp on a small table and pulled a stool up close to play it. She drew her fingers along the strings, producing a magical sound before she began to expertly use the different tones to produce a melody. The chamber began to fill with the sounds of the clàrsach. Clarrisa discovered her toe tapping in time with the tune. There was nothing barbaric about the clarsàch. Yet another thing she’d been raised to believe of Highland customs that wasn’t proving true. More than one English noble had attempted to outlaw the clarsàch because it was deeply rooted in Celtic tradition.

“Pleasing, is nae it?” Nareen muttered. She took the dress when it was lifted off Clarrisa and twirled around in a circle in time with the tune. The blue wool fluttered before she allowed one of the maids to take it from her and hang it up.

Clarrisa battled against the urge to hug herself and keep her underrobe on.

“Do nae be so modest. We’re all women here.”

Clarrisa looked at the chamber door. “I wish there was a bar there.”

Nareen laughed. “Because of me brother? Aye, I know the feeling of wanting to ensure he cannae sneak up on ye.” She came forward and helped lift the over robe up from the front. “Do nae worry. I’ll deal with him. Besides, Kael has as much boldness as arrogance. He’ll no’ resort to peeping. There is one of the few things I am sure about when it comes to me brother’s nature.”

Clarrisa laughed softly. Nareen raised an eyebrow, doubling Clarrisa’s laughter. “I actually feel sorry for your brother now. You are a good match for him.”

Nareen scoffed. “Do nae. He’s a true rogue. Whatever I might do to him, he’s earned it in one way or another.” There was a sizzle and a splash as the hot water was added to the tub.

“Now in with ye, before it cools. Hot baths do nae remain hot very long here.”

Clarrisa realized she was becoming more at ease without her clothing. She stepped into the tub while contemplating the wicked thought. It was really more of an idea, one that had to do with her confidence.

She admitted to enjoying her body. Such a confession would surely gain her a judgment of being sinful, but it was no less true. In spite of a childhood spent being instructed to abhor pleasure of the flesh, no shame prickled across her conscience as the maids helped to bathe her.

It
had
been
delightful
to
be
in
Broen’s bed.

Tears burned her eyes, and she drew in a stiff breath to dispel them. She had done what was best. That knowledge seemed of little comfort, but she’d continued to remind herself of her reasons and hope time would ease the pain of parting. It wasn’t right that she longed for a man she’d known for so little time.

But
he
knew
you
more
intimately
than
any
other…

She held off the tears until Nareen and the maids were gone. Wearing another dress she did not own, she stood in front of the window, looking out at the day. She had no idea what to do with herself.

***

Lytge Sutherland growled, “Can no one complete a simple task these days?”

His eldest son peered at him without comment.

“Mind the way ye judge me with yer eyes, Norris. The day will come soon enough when ye’ll have to be thinking how every little choice will affect ye and yer holdings.”

“I was nae judging ye.”

“But ye were nae agreeing with me, boy,” Lytge insisted with a soft growl.

Norris sat forward. There was an unmistakable maturity about him, and his body was definitely a man’s. Lytge took a large swallow of ale, wondering where the years had gone.

“Aw… do nae say it, Norris. I’m in a foul temper, but I’ve no’ changed me mind on wanting only honesty between us. There are lairds aplenty who will shine me ass and tell me it smells of spring heather, but no’ many who will speak the truth.”

“Well now… A few more weeks into spring and with the right lass for company, ye might get yer backside to smell of heather.”

The maid serving the high table dropped her pitcher, spilling amber ale across the polished surface of the wood. His father pounded it with his fist, sending the wide-eyed girl fleeing from what she perceived as her laird’s displeasure.

Norris waited, an eyebrow raised as his father glared at him. “Maybe no’ that lass. She’s a bit skittish still. Give her a few years to gain some confidence. I’ll see what I can do to help her along.”

Lytge sputtered before losing the battle to hide his amusement. “Ye’re a wicked boy, Norris. I hear the priests battle between them to see which of their number is forced to suffer yer confessions.”

“It’s more a matter of which one of them gets the enjoyment of the entertainment I bring to their dull duties.”

Lytge sucked in too much ale and choked. “I’m going to end up building them a new wing to the cathedral to save yer soul from damnation.”

Another maid arrived to wipe up the mess, this one showing more cleavage than the last. She leaned over while cleaning, offering Norris a clear view of her breasts, before taking her soiled linens away with a sway of her hips.

“Someone has to give these lasses the attention they crave.”

“Well, that one will have to find another tonight,” Lytge grunted. “I need ye to ride down to MacNicols land and fetch that York lass here. She’s got connections to powerful men.”

Norris lost his teasing demeanor. “Broen MacNicols is a good man, one I trust. If he has the lass in his keeping, the king will nae succeed with his scheme.”

“It is too risky to leave the matter open. Better to have her here, where we control whom she lies down with.”

Norris’s expression darkened. “Say what ye mean, Father. If ye distrust the man, be plain with me. If ye’re hinting at me taking her as a bride, say so. Ye are nae the only one who craves honesty between us.”

Father and son faced off for a long moment before Lytge lowered his voice.

“I distrust the situation. Broen MacNicols is free from his contract with the MacLeod lass. He stepped up and stole the York lass, for which I’m grateful. Besides, maybe I’m thinking of wedding the lass meself. Old Lindsey cannae boast such a blue-blooded wife, and I would enjoy putting the man down.”

“And Broen MacNicols has no reason to leave the lass untasted.” Norris chuckled softly. “Are ye sure ye trust me to deliver her untouched?”

Lytge leaned forward with a smirk on his lips. “No’ if ye’re any true son of mine. But if it troubles ye, as I said, maybe I’ll wed her meself. I can sure think of more vexing ways to needle old Laird Lindsey. Wedding a royal-blooded lass would be one slight I’d enjoy giving.”

Norris threw his head back and laughed. Plenty of his men watched, but they knew to stay below the high table. Men of his father’s station always had to fear a spy, even from among their own clan members. All it would take was a cousin who had been married into another clan at some point to turn one of the loyal retainers into a source of information during a family feast while the ale flowed freely. So his father and he kept their conversations private.

He pushed back from the table. “As ye command, most respected Father.”

Lytge rubbed his hands together while watching his son stride down the hallway.

Norris was pure Highlander, the long pleats of his kilt swaying as he walked. His men fell into step behind him, their scabbards empty because swords were forbidden in the hall. That fact hardly reduced them to being harmless. He chuckled softly and reached for his ale. He was proud to know his retainers hid dirks and other small weapons on their persons. They were Highlanders, which meant they were always ready to defend themselves and their clan. But he was an earl and knew well how to make sure his family fortune was maintained. He’d set his secretary to drafting a letter to Henry Tudor of England demanding a fair dowry for the York bastard. The new king might be irate over the demand, but he’d pay up or risk seeing Lytge wed the girl to one of Henry’s rivals instead of keeping her so far north.

Aye, that would do the trick, all right. Henry would rather have the girl secure in the Highlands, making an ally of the Sutherlands rather than breeding up another generation of Yorks to hassle Henry in his old age. If her children were Highlanders, they’d spit on the throne of England.

The serving wench returned, this time offering him a view of her ample chest as she filled his goblet. She didn’t shy away from looking him in the eye while she served him and offered him a smile full of suggestion. Perhaps there were benefits to having a grown son to see to some of the important matters, after all.

“Come serve me in me study, lass…”

Her eyelids lowered, and her cheeks brightened. “As ye like, my laird.”

Oh, he liked. Lytge felt a surge of satisfaction moving through him that made him feel twenty years younger. He envied his son the conquest he was embarking on, but also grinned at the idea of his lad rising to the challenge. An English lass would no’ be simple to lure into bed, but Norris was a master of seduction. A skill he’d learned from his father, Lytge was proud to know. The serving lass appeared only moments after he sat down behind his desk. Her linen cap was missing, and her hair lay like shimmering moonlight across her shoulders. Beneath his kilt, his cock hardened.

Yes, everything was going to be perfect.

Including his afternoon.

***

“I will freeze in this dress.”

Kael Grant looked up but only grinned at his sister’s disgruntlement.

Nareen snarled softly, earning a chuckle from her brother. The silk dress rustled when she moved. The soft, delicate shoes looked like they belonged on the feet of a fairy, and she discovered herself longing for wings to help her avoid feeling the chill of the stone floors in the hallways.

“We’ve guests tonight, ones worthy of pomp and circumstance,” Kael reminded her.

Clarrisa used measured steps to move closer to him to reduce the amount of sound coming from her garments. She’d failed to understand just how much work it was to be a queen. Just walking across the court was an effort, and if you failed, the gossips would be sure to repeat your lack of grace.

“Then where is your finery, Laird Grant?”

He frowned. “This is me best kilt, woman. Do nae they teach ye in England what finery looks like in the Highlands?” But his doublet was still only made of leather and the sleeves were hanging behind his back.

“What me brother is saying in his normal brash manner is that he thinks Highlanders above such things as pomp. At least when it comes to clothing,” Nareen announced from the doorway. Frustration edged her tone as she joined them with the same careful stride Clarrisa had adopted. “Which is grossly unfair,” Nareen accused her sibling. “If I have to suffer these ridiculous clothes, so should ye.”

Kael reached out and cuffed her gently on the chin. “One of us has to be ready to keep Norris Sutherland from ravishing the pair of ye.”

“Some proper clothing would assist better,” Clarrisa announced. Her dress was beautiful, and she’d honestly never worn one to equal it. It was made of jade silk and the back of it flowed behind her. Wide cuffs of lace were set to the sleeves, while more of the rare embellishment ran around the neckline and down the center of the bodice. Even if you made the bobbin lace yourself, it was made with gold wire floss. Hundreds of hours would have been needed to produce the amount adorning the dress. A border of velvet edged the bottom of the gown, too.