The Trouble with Highlanders (20 page)

“I hope the earl is well.”

The head of house scoffed softly. “I believe his stomach is soured by the endless prattle of his guests. I confess I've used the task of informing ye of supper's change in order to escape the demands of young Mistress Fraser. Half the maids in the bathhouse have suddenly gone ill. When she set herself to inspecting the kitchens, the cook took to sharpening his knives.”

Daphne felt her eyes widen, and she raised a hand to stifle a small sound of amusement that tried to escape her lips. Asgree didn't miss her lapse in discipline.

“Go on, laugh. Lord knows I want to. That lass is presumption wrapped in a siren's form.”

“Still. I shouldn't be judgmental. I am hardly without me own sins,” Daphne offered.

Asgree moved forward to inspect the lace Daphne and Isla had been making. “Ye have polished skills, something some lasses like to talk about more than prove.”

The compliment warmed her. The older woman shifted her attention to Daphne's face, studying her for a long moment. “His lairdship asked me where ye would like to take yer supper. Which chamber?”

And it seemed Norris would not be the only one at Dunrobin wondering what her choice would be. It really wasn't a decision. She'd stepped onto the path she was set on the night before.

“I would return to the laird's chamber.”

Asgree's eyes brightened, and she nodded. She turned and pointed the maids toward the doorway. Then she paused, waiting until they left.

“A fine choice,” she offered and left the solar on silent feet. It had been a long time since anyone with any authority had approved of her, and Daphne discovered herself stunned. She stood still, allowing herself to savor the moment, for she admired the head of house. Asgree was no fool and knew one when she saw one.

Isla was brimming with excitement too, worrying her lower lip once again as she waited for Daphne to decide it was time to leave the solar.

“Well then, I suppose I shall bathe and make sure those working in the bathhouse are properly thanked for their service.”

It was a small thing, one that fate might decide to take away from her at any moment, but for today, Norris had set her above the other women in the house. Daphne planned to make sure she did not abuse the position.

Sandra
would
not
be
so
kind.

Daphne shook her head, pushing her thoughts aside. The sun was setting, and she would not waste the night, for it was hers to share with Norris. With her lover.

***

Sandra Fraser was waiting on him.

Norris didn't know which was worse, sitting at the high table while her brother droned on endlessly about the merits of the Frasers or the certain knowledge that the moment he followed his father's example and left the high table Sandra would waylay him.

The woman held no appeal. She might be a beauty, blessed with a body most men would have no trouble desiring, but all he could see was the calculating look in her eyes.

Sandra Fraser was a cunning bitch, and she'd set her sights on him. It wasn't the first time he'd been the target of such. Maybe sometime, many years ago, when he'd been young enough to be impressed with his own power, he'd have enjoyed it. Becoming a man had tempered his ego, and it was a fact he was very pleased with. Too many viewed him as a man who had everything, when the truth was, no one had it all. He had privilege and position but no freedom to wed the woman he wanted. A common man had no land of his own but could follow his heart.

At the moment, Norris envied every retainer wearing his father's colors. Sandra Fraser wouldn't be waiting on them. No, she was a coldhearted jade. She was waiting on him but casting sly looks at some of his men. Not only would she rule his house like a shrew, he'd have to put a watch on her else wonder if her children were his.

Asgree appeared at the kitchen door and made her way toward the high table. Norris discovered himself watching her, his anticipation rising as she made a steady progress toward him. She stopped and lowered herself before climbing up the side steps to come behind him and Laird Fraser. He lifted his hand, and Bari made a low sound of frustration but closed his mouth anyway.

“Mistress MacLeod has decided to accept yer invitation. She awaits ye.”

He didn't think three words had ever filled him with such joy. Daphne was waiting for him. He stood up, gaining a grunt from Bari.

“Can nae yer mistress wait until we've finished?” he whined. “I hear she's new. Is she that talented on her back?”

Norris cast a hard look at his guest. For once, he abandoned diplomacy completely, allowing the other man to see his true emotions. Bari Fraser swallowed roughly. “Mistress MacLeod is a woman I respect,” Norris informed him quietly. “While ye are near me, ye'll do the same or keep yer opinion to yerself.”

Bari wasn't accustomed to being told to mind his words. It was clear that the man ruled with absolute power on Fraser land. It was also clear Bari put his own desires above the other members of his household. He'd never suggested inviting Sandra to the head table to see if she and Norris found each other pleasing. No, Bari Fraser was more concerned in finding out what sort of alliance he'd gain when Sandra was handed over to Norris to occupy his bed.

Aye, he knew well that was the way of most noble marriages, but he wanted something else, and it was waiting for him but a few stories above his head. Norris headed out of the great hall through the side entrance. He had no desire to listen to Sandra do her best to impress him or to hurt the girl's feelings on the off chance she wasn't as cold as he'd judged her to be.

Asgree was there, beyond the doorway.

“Shall I send supper up?”

“Aye, and then give yer staff their leave.”

Asgree lowered herself and left. Norris looked up and muffled a curse. Sandra had taken the opportunity to close in on him. She sank down into a graceful courtesy, her velvet dress pooling like water. The color suited her perfectly, and every hair on her head was artfully arranged. Nevertheless, he felt not even a twinge of attraction.

“Forgive me, mistress, but I'm set to retire for the night.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and her gaze slipped down his length. “It is nae very fair of ye to tease me so, Norris.”

He had to reach out and stop her before she pressed herself against him. “I've teased ye not at all.”

She pouted and shrugged in the face of his harsh tone. “For certain ye are accustomed to being so harsh with the women who fall under yer spell, but I was hoping ye might consider being just a wee bit tender with me.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and aimed a pleading look at him. She reached right out and stroked his neck. The touch disgusted him because of just how practiced it was. He could see her judging his response, no hint of reaction in her own eyes. He might have been a stallion for all she cared. Her mind was on the matter of making him her conquest. So very different from the way Daphne's eyes filled with hunger when she touched him.

“Good night, Mistress Fraser. I suggest ye find someone else to offer ye tenderness.”

Her eyes widened, and her expression became hard. “I do nae care if ye keep yer mistress. Me brother has made it clear he would like a match between us. I hear the MacLeod girl is barren, that she has nae bled in a very long time. Ye need heirs. Besides, she has not even a silver penny to her name. Let us come to an agreement. I'll give ye yer heirs, and neither of us shall be jealous of where we find our pleasures. I can be discreet, I assure ye, Norris.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

Sandra lifted her chin stubbornly. “As if ye are as pure as Saint Peter. Daphne MacLeod is a sack of bones.” She boldly stroked the swells of her breast above the edge of her bodice. “Do ye nae long to have a pair of tits ye can rest yer head on when yer cock is spent?”

“Enough!” he barked at her. “I suppose there are men aplenty in this world who will take a liking to yer bold tongue, but I am nae one of them.”

He left her behind, glad to be finished with her. What chilled his blood as he climbed the stairs was the fact that he might well find himself battling his father when it came to contracting a bride. What twisted his gut was the worry that Daphne wouldn't be content as his mistress.

For the first time in his life he was tempted to use his position for his own purposes. The temptation was intoxicating with the relief it offered. Relief from worrying when Daphne would leave Dunrobin. There were plenty of men who wouldn't have bothered battling the urge. But his father had raised him to consider his position a duty, not a privilege. He'd shouldered that duty more than once, performing as expected rather than as he wished. However, tonight he wondered if he'd ever be able to let Daphne go.

***

“What did Sandra say to ye?” Norris appeared only a few moments after Isla had taken her leave. Daphne had just pinched out several of the candles, leaving the chamber in semidarkness. It suited Norris, though. Or perhaps it suited her mood, for it made the moment seem intimate and hidden away from the sharper edges of reality.

So
much
easier
for
her
to
slip
into
her
fantasy
world
where
she
need
only
please
herself…

“It doesn't matter.” She reached for the pitcher of wine Isla had left and poured some of it into a goblet. She held it out for Norris. He took it but didn't lift it to his lips. Instead he set it back on the table.

“It matters if ye are intent on distracting me from learning the answer to me question. Isla says Sandra refused to let ye leave. Why?”

“It was a matter of little importance. Be careful ye do nae encourage me to make demands of ye whenever something displeases me. Better that I retain enough of me wits to know the difference between sense and foolishness.”

Daphne moved closer to the fire, letting the heat fill the long dressing robe Isla had produced for her to wear once her dress was unlaced and hung in the wardrobe. She laughed softly, gaining a raised eyebrow from Norris.

“I was noticing how easily I have become accustomed to being undressed in yer presence.” The words felt wicked on her tongue, but she laughed again. “Father Peter is sure to have something horrible to say about it.”

“A situation easily remedied by yer remaining here, where Father Peter can nae demand yer attention.”

It was mad the way his words made hope flare up inside her. She hadn't realized just how frightened she was until he put her mind at ease.

Norris cursed softly behind her. “So that's what the bitch said to ye.”

Daphne jerked her attention around toward him. “I said naught.”

He'd unbuttoned his doublet and tossed it over the back of a chair. His collar was open, making him look rakish, but he shook his head. “What I saw in yer eyes, 'tis the truth that I did nae recognize it.”

Confusion held her in its grip as he closed the distance between them. He cupped her chin and stared into her eyes.

“Never once, even when I pulled ye out of Morrell Comyn's clutches, have I seen fear in yer eyes. Until tonight.” He held her chin when she would have turned away. “That bitch threatened ye.”

It wasn't a question, and she couldn't hide her emotions. She never had been able to mask her true feelings with him. “It does nae matter. I've made me choices and understand ye are nae bound to me.”

He slid his hand up her face, and tenderness filled his green eyes. “I am surely bound to ye, Daphne, and God forgive me, but I am happy to see ye fear to be parted from me, for I do nae think I can bear having ye leave me. I swear I will never wed Sandra Fraser.”

He sealed her mouth with his, the kiss slow and deep. She reached for him, desperate to feel him pressed against her. Nothing else mattered. Nothing at all.

***

Something woke Daphne. She opened her eyes and stared at the canopy stretched out above Norris's bed. His arm was draped over her chest, one large hand cupping her breast. The air was still cold, the fire reduced to ashes long ago. Only the barest amount of light teased the horizon. She should go back to sleep, but her belly ached. It was dull but persistent, and when she shifted her legs, she realized her thighs were wet.

She sat up, staring in horror at the soiled sheet. It was a terrible waste of such fine cloth. Even in the dark, she could see the stain. Norris jerked, jumping to his feet in a motion that betrayed just how powerful his body was.

“What is it?” He turned his head, clearly listening for the bells, but only the morning birds could be heard.

“I'm sorry… I didn't mean to wake ye.”

He sat down and rolled his shoulders. “Ye may wake me early anytime, lass. I am sure we shall find something to do with the time.”

“Nae.” She pushed against him when he tried to pull her close. He settled for pressing a kiss against her neck and growling softly against her hair.

“We can nae, Norris.”

He caught her hand and carried it to his member. The flesh was hard and hot in spite of the coolness of the morning air.

“We surely can…”

“I'm bleeding, and I've ruined yer fine sheets.” She stood up, going to the garderobe to fetch a linen. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forbade herself to cry. It was a prayer answered. The very thing she had desired. She should be happy. Yet she sniffled.

“Here now, Daphne… do nae be so distraught.”

Norris scooped her up and carried her back to bed. He tossed the soiled sheet aside, spreading the top one over the mattress.

“I'll ruin that one too,” she warned.

“I do nae care.”