Dark Side of the Laird (Highland Bound) (4 page)

“And sometimes, we have to let fate lead us.”
Ewan looked serious as he studied me.

“Huh.” I patted Ewan’s arm
and forced a smile. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Pep?”

“Never mind.” I left Ewan in the great hall and made my way toward the kitchens.

Walking through
the kitchens, the scent of bread baking and stew simmering normally would have made my mouth water, but not today. I was still too nauseated from my encounter with Isabella. I smiled at the women chopping carrots and onions, kneading dough and stirring up concoctions in bowls, as I made my way to the back door and into the gardens, more disturbed now than I’d been before talking to Ewan.

When I was tossed back in time, I’d made the best of it—okay, more than made the best of it. I loved being here with Logan. Yes, I missed modern conveniences,
like showers, Starbucks, soft toilet paper and condoms, but I was willing to give those things up in order to be with him. Willing to offer my advice—albeit in a concealed sort of way—on ways to do things better, such as the green house, or washing hands and covering one’s mouth when coughing.

The sun was out, defying the chill the wind that blew at a brisk pace.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath of fresh air. I’d thought Scotland’s scent was clean and fresh even in modern times, but five hundred years in the past, it was even better. Almost like breathing in one breath could heal any ailment.

The chattering of the c
lanswomen broke my short interlude. A dozen or more of them were bent over the last of the garden crops to be harvested, their hands covered in dirt, baskets full of radishes, carrots and other root vegetables.

“There ye are,” Cook said, a frown on her face as she approached.
Her hair fell around her face in gray batches from her bun and a smear of dirt spread across her nose. “We’d gotten used to your help and we thought now that a lady had arrived ye’d be up visiting with her instead of down here with us.”

I smiled at her and took the basket. “Y
ou’ve no reason to fear me not coming to help. No matter who is visiting, I’m always willing to do my part. Besides,” I said, “I really do enjoy your company, too.”

Cook frowned, she’d not said she enjoyed my company, but I knew that was what she meant. The woman was hard, well-worked, but beneath her bluster, she had a big heart.

“Well, get on with it then. Onions need to be picked.”

“With pleasure.”

I headed toward the rows of onions, and bent down, ready to dig in the dirt for the thick bulbs. The woman beside me, nudged me with her elbow.

“That’s the laird’s betrothed, that woman, is it not?”

How to answer? I shrugged.

“’Tis. I heard her say so this morning after Mass.”

I didn’t want to sound like a jealous wench, or lay claim to the laird. Our relationship was a quiet one. We knew the clan suspected, but neither of us had come right out and said it openly.

“I hadn’t heard it was official.” I pulled a white bulb from the ground and stuff
ed it in my basket.

“She says ’tis only a matter of time.”

“Hmm.” I did not want to be having this conversation. At all.

“Whoever ends up married to him will be a lucky woman,
” she sighed, then cleared her thought. “Of course, I only hope that we’re lucky in gaining a mistress.”

“I’m sure his lairdship will do what’s best for all of you.” God, I hoped he d
id—and that what was best was me.

“Or what the king orders,
” the woman answered, sounding almost as depressed as I felt.

Another dreadful reminder that I may not have a choice in this future after all.

I tucked another onion in my basket, pretending my eyes were watering from their scent and not because I felt like I was once again floundering with no place to belong.

Chapter Four

Logan

W
ith Emma out of earshot I took two menacing steps toward Isabella, closing the distance between us. The scent of her perfume assaulted me—strong and spicy. I found my nose offended when I’d gained so much pleasure from the light, floral scents of Emma.

“I kne
w ye’d come around,” she purred, reaching out and sliding a manicured nail down the length of my arm.

I jerked away in reaction, gritting my teeth.

I wanted to throttle her. Wanted to take her by the upper arms and shake the life from her. Without a doubt, I knew that if I touched her, I would end up doing damage, so I kept my fists clenched at my sides.

“Ye kn
ow nothing. Stay away from Emma,” I growled.

A flash of fear sparked in her dark eyes, but she masked it before
I had a chance to truly examine it. “Oh, darling, ye couldn’t possibly—”

I grunted.
“Dinna use your feminine wiles on me. They have no place here, and I’ve no use for them.”

She pouted, going for sultry, but it only made me think of a spoiled brat.
How many men had she won over with her ploys? How many suffered?

“Logan—”

“Laird,” I interrupted her, wanting to take her down a notch or two. “I’ve not given ye leave to be so informal.”

“But we are to be married,” she whined
and gave a slight stomp of her foot.

“Nay, my lady, we are not.”
I kept my voice level and serious.

“The king says—”

“King James says a lot of things. Think ye are the first to have been brought here?” I questioned, venom dripping from each word, as I leaned closer to her face, letting her know just how damn serious I was. “Think there are not many who have walked this path before ye? And yet I remain a bachelor.”

She swallowed, searching my eyes for the truth, and she’d find it there, for certain she would, because I let it shine through.

“This time will be no different,” I said, lips curling into a cruel grin.

There was one difference—I’d never had to deal with a woman before like I did with Isabella. Never had to be so mean-spirited.

The woman had the nerve to raise her chin, her shoulders straightening. “Ye’re so confident. So sure of yourself,” she spat, fire blazing daggers from her eyes. “Ye may be the Guardian of Scotland, the bearer of some great secrets, but ye’re also a man. A man who has to obey his sovereign like the rest of us.”

“Aye,
” I drawled out.

“Your sovereign says ye’ll be married to me.”

I narrowed my eyes studying her. She could have been beautiful if she weren’t such a cold-hearted bitch. There was something about this woman that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. She was cunning, but she was also a permanent resident of MacDonald’s pocket, and that man wanted me dead.

“I see no contract, my lady. The king has left Gealach. He’s left ye here. And he did not leave any betrothal documents behind.”

She blanched, her face going whiter than the snow that was likely to fall in the next couple of weeks. “He will return,” she said quickly.

“Aye.” I shrugged. “But when? Sometimes months, years go by between his visits.”

Her mouth fell open and she slammed it closed, bristling beneath the surface. It wouldn’t be too long before the real Lady Isabella revealed herself. Her body grew rigid, and she stared up at me with as much venom as I’d seen in her uncle when he’d glared at me from within my dungeon walls before he broke free. Her eyes, they were similar to his, and come to think of it, she looked more like MacDonald than I’d thought. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find out that Lady Isabella wasn’t a niece of MacDonald’s at all, but a daughter. The bastard had been trying for years to get me to marry one of them, uniting us. But I knew the true reasons for his offer—he wanted my position so he could slay the king.

And he would go about any means doing it—even if it meant using his own flesh and blood.

A flood of pity filled my gut. The lass standing so stoic and vicious before me was nothing more than a pawn. Used by her family to gain what they needed, wanted.

“What do ye want, Isabella?” I asked her with all sincerity knowing full well, whatever answer I got was going to be far from the truth.

“To do my duty.”

I sighed. It was a lost cause, and I couldn’t waste my anger on her, there was much to do. “We all have duties, my lady, but we all also have choices.” Something I’d learned from Emma. She’d struggled with choice for the majority of her adult life. Emma had revealed to me that we were all products of our choices, for even when it seemed we weren’t in charge of our lives, we still had choices we could make within those bounds.
Emma was intelligent, with a heart that was bigger than life itself, and when she’d arrived, she’d been so frail. Beaten down and told she was worthless. I knew better from the start, there was something inside that told me she was special. Beyond the intense urge I had to spread her thighs, I respected her so much, loved her beyond measure.

Isabella scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Choice is a word men use. Women have no use for it.”

“Sounds as though ye’ve been listening to too many ignorant men.”

“I should take offense to that.”

“If it pleases.”

She glared at me. “Why do ye speak to me this way?”

“What way?” I backed off, no longer needing to threaten her or invade her space, at least not at the moment.

“Ye were cold to me afore, and now ye’re being…” She chewed her lip. “’Tis a trick?”

Good God, had no one ever been nice to her before?

“’Haps ye will come to find out in life that not everything is always so black and white,” I said. “Sometimes, there can be a middle ground.”

“To what are ye referring? If ye’re speaking of our marriage, then there is no gray, nor is there black or white. There is only one color—the king’s will.”

“Ye are that loyal to King James?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” That flicker of fear reared in her eyes once more.

“Need I spell it out?”

“Suppose ye do.”

“Ye’re a MacDonald, my lady.”

“And my uncle is very close to the king.”

“Aye, but is he loyal?”

“How dare ye question his loyalty!” Whatever wall she’d dropped a moment ago was racked back up and this time with barbs as she thrust herself toward me in a move that might have been menacing if she was closer to my size.

“’Tis a question that begs an answer.”

“I
and
my family are most loyal to the crown.”

Lady Isabella was a lot more clever than I gave her credit for before. Indeed, she was a pawn, but her thoughts may have been so darkened that she may never come back to the light. She never mentioned James’ name, only king and crown. And MacDonald believed himself to be entitled to both of those.

“Seems ’twas my mistake,” I said with a quick bow. “Will not happen again.” I backed away a couple of feet and swept my arm toward the stairwell. “After ye, my lady. I’ve many duties to complete today.”

She humphed, raising her chin even higher as she gave a wide skirt around me.

“Mistake, indeed. See that it doesna happen again. Often wolves hide in sheep’s clothing. One would not want to mistake ye for a traitor,
my
laird
. And to be clear, if need be, King James made it clear he would be happy to take that whore off your hands.”

T
he viper was back. I reached for her, grasping her arm just above the elbow and pressing on the spot there that would make her arm tingle uncomfortably. “Mind your tongue,” I ground out.

She tried to wrench free, but I didn’t let go. If she wan
ted to voice threats, best she understood who held the upper hand.

“Mind your tongue,” I repeated, slower this time.

Isabella opened her mouth to reply, but bit the tip of her tongue instead. What vile words was she about to hiss?

I let go of her, glaring fiercely. “On with ye, now.”

She grumbled, whirled away and lifted her skirts higher than was necessary as she took to the stairs, revealing black-knit hose that if I’d seen them on Emma, I might have dragged her back upstairs. Mayhap that was the woman’s intention, to entice me.

She’d be in for a rude awakening, as
I was not to be enticed by anyone but Emma. Only she could quench my thirst. Only she could move me in ways I never thought possible.

I listened until the sound of Isabella’s slippers on the stairs disappeared, then I returned to both our doors, making sure they were locked. Isabella had revealed much during our short exchange, especially that she was not to be trusted. Sent here, no doubt on a mission, to discover the secrets, or at the very least to marry me to bide her time in finding them. Marrying me also gave her uncle access to me. Not that I would grant it—if for some unearthly reason I did marry her.
Nay, not in this lifetime, the next, or eternity would I say vows with that woman.

I whirled on the nearest wall and crashed my fist into it
, pain radiating up my arm as my knuckles split against the stone. A roar of anger, frustration, pain ripped from my throat. I stared up at the ceiling, not seeing it, chest puffing, heart pounding.

From the moment James had crossed my threshold gifting me with the news of our blood ties and offering protection in exchange for his own, my life had not been my own. I was utterly out of control as much as I wanted, needed to govern my own destiny. At every turn, some new intrigue gave birth to itself. Not a moment
of peace, except for when I was in Emma’s arms and now he wished to wrench that from me as well.

I stormed down the stairs. No place in mind that I was to go, but knowing I couldn’t stand there any longer, not with the stench of Isabella’s bitterness and my own brother’s betrayal so ripe in the air.

And then I was there, without realizing my intent, the hidden alcove that stared out onto the gardens. I slipped inside the narrow, darkened recess and sat on the stone bench in order to see out the thin slit in the two foot thick walls. The gardens were filled with clanswomen working, and I looked from one to the other until my eyes caught the glimmer of fiery hair.

Emma.

She was crouched before a patch and rooted through the dirt, upending what looked to be onions. I swelled with pride watching her, seeing how those around her looked on her with respect and even something akin to friendship. She’d found her place here, even if she lamented often that she didn’t think she had. My people loved her, just as I did.

They would want her for their mistress, I was sure of it. I watched her swipe at her face as she went. Tears brought on by irritation from the onions, or some other
aggravation?

My heart pulsed harder, and the keen urge to rush outside and pull her into my arms, demanding who had done her wrong was powerful. And I would have done it
, too, if it weren’t for several reasons, one being that I was fairly certain her frustration with Isabella was the reason behind her tears and I had no answer for her there. I was just as frustrated.

My conversation with the traitorous witch had gone
nowhere. I didn’t want to speak to Emma about it until I could offer her some measure of comfort. With one last longing look in her direction, I left the alcove in search of Ewan.

One thing was for certain, Isabella’s presence only meant imminent danger to the clan. We needed extra lookouts and the dear wench needed a body guard—or rather a spy
—to relay all her dealings to me.

There was no way in hell she as going to win. I am the Guardian of Scotland. I guard the king’s secrets and I guard them well.

And damn if I was going to let anyone take Emma away from me. They’d have to claw through my dead body and then my devil spirit before they did. I would remain victorious.