Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) (13 page)

She nodded.

“Answer me.” He striped her thighs with a series of quick, harsh slaps.

“Yes! Yes!” She writhed beneath his hand, wishing he’d stop, wishing he’d play with her body forever.

“Good.” He stopped and rolled off the bed then went to the door.

“You’re going to leave me like this?” She was a ball of frustration. A stinging, sore ball of frustration.

He looked back at her and laughed. “It’s time to dress for dinner. I’m orderin’ us a bath.”

Alice scrambled to cover up.

The tub arrived first, a great, round thing like half of a giant barrel, lugged by a guardsman. Then several sturdy-looking maids hauled in steaming water, which they dumped into the tub. As they left, they cast longing glances at Dugald, giggling at him—and at her, Alice noted with some resentment.

After they’d left, Dugald secured the door, stripped and swung one brawny leg then the other into the bath. Then he beckoned her over. She lowered herself in with care, wincing as the hot water hit her sore haunches, and arranged herself in the meager space left. The water slopped up to her chest, but only Dugald’s lower half was covered.

“Why were they laughing at you?” she asked.

He shrugged, sending wavelets toward her. “Who?”

“Those maids. And I do not care for the way they were looking at you.”

“I doonae ken, but…um, everyone kens me around these parts.”

She eyed him. “Just how well do they know you?”

He grinned. “Some ken me better than others.”

She stiffened her back. “Is this going to present problems for me?”

“It shouldnae.”

Alice sighed.

“Doonae borrow trouble, lass. I’ll ensure that no one insults ye.”

And with that she had to be content.

* * * * *

“Dugald refers to you as his nephew, but I cannot say that the two of you look as though you share a single drop of blood,” she told the laird later at supper. They sat in the castle’s Great Hall, a modest room compared to Kilbirnie Castle, which had reminded Alice of paintings she’d seen of palaces. This cozy firelit room, in contrast, was smaller and more friendly, seating p’raps a score of men and women at round tables. Families with children sat at some, while others seemed to be packed with castle guards. Here and there someone stuck out as clearly Kilburn, with the height, pale skin and dark hair that seemed to characterize her husband’s clan. The MacReivers were a more varied lot.

Laird Edgar laughed. “’Tis true. My father was a redhead and my mother fair-haired like myself. Or so I’m told. She died bearing me.” He glanced at Dugald.

“That doesn’t seem to be uncommon.” Alice picked at her food, wondering about her future.

“That’s the way of it, alas.” Dugald stared at his plate.

Laird Edgar shrugged. “Matters have improved greatly in my lands since the Kilburns and the MacReivers…allied. We are a healthier clan. We eat better, and consequently there are more live births.”

“And so the clan increases.” Dugald sipped ale. “But doonae be surprised, wife, if you doonae increase. As I said, many Kilburns have but one or two bairns at the most.”

“I thought that milaird and milady had several,” she said. “Hence the need for a governess.”

“Aye, there are four of them. But milady is a Sassenach and milaird’s mam was a Cameron. They be prolific breeders. You and me…we may be different.”

She put down her fork and stared at him. “Or so you hope.”

He compressed his lips. “Aye, I do. I doonae want to lose ye,
mo dòchas
.”

“Like Elsbeth.”

“No one is going to lose anyone,” Laird Edgar said firmly. “Elsbeth was wonderful, a good friend to us all. And Mistress Alice is different, though equally charming.” He turned to her. “You seem hale and hearty enough.”

“I am,” she said cheerfully, banishing her fears. “And plenty of women have babies with no problems. Are there not enough Kilburns?”

Dugald leaned back in his chair. “Aye, we’re a strong clan.”

“I can second that,” Laird Edgar said, a wry note in his voice.

Alice glanced from one to the other. “I sense there’s a story behind this.”

“There is. Our clans had feuded for many years until one night, one of the more, er, less controllable Kilburns killed many of my men. I was but ten at the time,” Laird Edgar said, his voice perfectly even. “I was left with no option but to ally with Clan Kilburn.”

“Does that trouble you, milaird?” she asked.

“Not at all. But for the carnage, I believe that was the best thing that ever happened to me. And honestly, to my clan. I loved my father, but he had no notion of how to properly run…well, anything. I believe I‘m a good leader—”

“Here, here!” Dugald raised his tankard.

“And if I am, it is because of everything that milaird Kieran and this one have taught me.” Laird Edgar gave Dugald a playful punch on the shoulder.

“Och!” He pretended to fall off his chair to one side.

Alice laughed. “So, who are these less controllable Kilburns?” She remembered the Tupping Threesome with the whore in Glasgow and unconsciously raised her hand to her neck.

Edgar eyed her. “Methinks you are already well acquainted with at least one.” He raised his tankard at Dugald, who winked.

Hmm. So Laird Edgar was reluctant to reveal the truth. No doubt he felt that the information was too much for her tender female ears.

And no doubt she’d find out upon reaching Kilburn Castle.

The day dawned misty and cold, and Alice picked her warmest clothing for the ride to Clan Kilburn’s lands. Though she’d been told that the way was short—p’raps an hour or two—so many unexpected events had taken place during their journey that she wanted to be prepared for all possibilities, and dressed accordingly.

But her fears weren’t realized. Instead, after a hearty breakfast of porridge and sausages, they set out for Kilburn Castle in time to arrive before noon. However, she found her good spirits dampened by the increasing fog and Dugald’s mood. He’d grown quiet as the morning progressed.

She finally guided Mary abreast of his mount and said, “Talk.”

He turned to her with a lifted brow.

“You are troubled.”

He sighed and stared at a point in the air between his horse’s ears. “The time draws near when I must tell milaird about Malcolm. I also must speak with his mam.”

“Ohhh…I understand. If there’s anything I can do, maybe tell his mother that he died trying to protect me—”

“That would be a help, aye. Thank ye.”

As they neared Kilburn Castle, the trail they’d been following through the woods widened and the trees grew more sparse until they were riding across a meadow dotted with fluffy white sheep and occasional patches of snow. Both canine and human shepherds tended the flocks, which also included a cow or two.

The enormous, three-sided fortress was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Its huge gate was open and a drawbridge thrust forth like a giant tongue across a moat. In the distance, Alice could see folk hurrying in and out of the castle.

As they neared the crofters’ huts near the castle’s base, goats heralded their presence with their distinctive aroma. Closer still, chickens clucked and scratched for bugs. Puppies and kittens tussled with children in the byways while the adults worked. Alice could hear the clanging of a smithy, while the huts’ open doors revealed women spinning and weaving. Strings of dried herbs draped doorways, and garden plots were lined with tidy rows of late vegetables. They even passed fishponds.

They approached the ice-rimmed moat, on which seabirds and ducks swam and quarreled, then crossed it with Alice looking at everything all the while. She could see Clan Kilburn was prosperous. Everyone seemed clean, well-fed and happy.

Except Dugald, whose frown increased with every step of his horse’s hooves.

She sighed, aware that the next couple of days would be trying. She’d meet her laird and lady. And the children, her charges. She hoped they’d be agreeable.

They crossed the drawbridge and dismounted, with a grateful Alice praying she’d not have to ride a horse again for a good long time. She petted Mary’s mane and said goodbye. “I won’t be seeing you for a while, girl.”

Mary’s ears flicked back and forth and she turned her head, no doubt searching for a cozy stall with a full manger.

“Och,” said a deep male voice. “Cousin, have ye brought us a governess who talks to animals? She’ll be good with the bairns, especially Isobel.”

Dugald turned. “Milaird.” He embraced a midnight-haired giant, fully as tall as he and even more broad.

“Another Sassenach lass! Dugald, what were ye thinking? We’ll be overrun!” Laird Kieran bent his head toward Alice.

She quailed as a petite, dark-haired lady elbowed the giant in the side. She had an hourglass figure and a ring of keys—the chatelaine’s keys—at her waist. “Hush, Kieran, you’re frightening the girl. Welcome, Mistress Derwent, to Kilburn Castle.”

“You must be Lady Lydia.” Legs stiff, Alice curtseyed awkwardly.

Dugald cleared his throat. “She’s actually Mistress Kilburn.”

Both milaird and milady turned and stared, first at Dugald, then at Alice.

Finally milaird spoke. “That was quick work.
Meal a’ naidheachd
to ye both.” He gave Alice a courtly bow.

“Yes, congratulations.” Lady Lydia looked a bit dazed, but soon recovered. “And do come inside. You must want a bath. Does she have clean clothes?” She eyed Dugald with a stern gaze.

“Yes, Lady Kilbirnie was very kind,” Alice said.

A crease appeared between milady’s dark brows. “You were supposed to buy her proper clothing,” she said to Dugald. “Not take from the Kilbirnies, cousins though they are.”

“I did, but we were attacked on the road.” Dugald glanced at milaird.

“Oh, dear.” Milady sighed. “There they go again.”

“What, milady?” Alice asked.

“Dugald and Kieran talk without speaking. ‘Tis most irritating.”

“They must know each other well.”

“Like brothers. Come.” She led Alice to one of the three towers that sat at each point of the triangular, high-walled bailey. One, the closest to the sea, was a ruin, its parapets crumbling. The others seemed to be in good repair and in use. “The old keep.” She pointed to the ruin. “Never enter it—’tis forbidden, and very dangerous.”

They walked through one tower’s open doors. “This is the Laird’s Tower,” Lydia said. “We—the family—live here, with storage above. The third tower is the Garrison Tower, where our personal guards and the castle servants reside. That’s where the kitchens are and the Great Hall, where we take our meals.”

Alice drew a deep breath. “And the children?”

“They live with us, of course. We have a floor in the Laird’s Tower and Dugald lives above. You’ll live with him, since you’re handfasted. Otherwise I was planning you’d live in the nursery.”

“I’m sorry about the change—”

“Not at all. It’s as though…I hope I am not too forward to say it’s as though I’ve gained a sister—or at least a friend—rather than a governess.” A slight blush staining her cheeks, Lady Lydia finished her thought in a rush and peered at Alice through a lock of curly hair that had come loose.

Alice pressed a hand to her heart. “You’re so kind. I’m overwhelmed. I’ve been overwhelmed, I think, since Dugald hired me.”

“And how did that come about?” Lydia led the way to Dugald’s rooms, which were across an entry hall and up two flights of stairs. “He sent us a message that was rather short on detail.”

“We met at a mop fair.”

“Yes, ‘twas my idea to send Dugald to the Glasgow mop fair. I felt sure he’d find the right governess there. And he got a little more than he had bargained for, hmm?”

Alice managed an uneasy laugh. “Getting handfasted wasn’t anything either of us expected.”

Lydia laughed. “I need not ask why the handfasting came about, though I must say I am surprised. Surprised but pleased.”

“I want you to know, milady, I’m not…um, loose.” Following Lady Lydia, Alice climbed the stairs.

“I know that. Dugald would not have hired a lightskirt to teach our children. And I can see by your manner and appearance you’re well-bred.” Lydia fixed Alice with intelligent brown eyes. “But I have observed that if one of the Kilburn men wants something—or someone—they usually get it. Or her, as the case may be.”

“Indeed, I would not have… ’Twas an odd situation,” Alice said, finishing lamely.

“I can guess that there’s a story here. The attack on the road?”

She nodded her head, wondering if she should tell the story to Lady Lydia, or if the news should properly come from Dugald.

Lady Lydia scrutinized her again. “Your mouth has gone tight and your eyes sad. I think we shall allow Dugald to talk of that particular event. But I trow that the…um, stress of the events threw the two of you together?”

Relief flooded Alice. Lady Lydia understood. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I was sure we were going to die.”

“Oh, my. Well, I am sure we will hear the whole quite soon.” Lydia opened an iron-bound wooden door and ushered Alice inside. The room was spare but adequate. On one wall was a small hearth with kindling already laid for a fire. In the center of the room, its headboard against one wall, a four-poster bed was draped with heavy, dark-red bed curtains. Having been told over and over about the harsh Highland winters, Alice was pleased to see them. She walked over and tested the mattress, which seemed comfortable. Tapestries covered much of the stone walls along with only a single narrow wardrobe and a small table on which sat a bowl, a ewer and some linen towels. Alice gathered that was where Dugald washed. Rugs lay on the smooth wooden floor.

“Expected or not, your handfasting does require that this place be made more livable.” Lydia frowned as she looked about the room. “You’ll need another wardrobe, I am sure, and a dresser. The garderobe is down the hall—”

Alice gasped.

Lydia grinned. “Precisely my reaction. I remember the moment well. Kieran had told me that I’d be living in a medieval castle, but I never grasped it until I first used…uh, the facilities.”

She managed a chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll adjust. I have been living on the road for a few weeks.”

“Ah, yes. A bath, I am sure, would be welcome.”

“Actually, I enjoyed one at MacReiver Castle.”

“I should have guessed. Our foster son is a fine host. So your journey today was short, but that riding habit must certainly want attention.”

Alice glanced down. Though her beautiful green habit had been cleaned at Kilbirnie and no longer stank of the Beans’ cave, the long weeks of travel had taken their toll on it. “Yes, it does, but I fear I must wait until the rest of my luggage is brought up.”

“In that case, let us speak of the children. Shall we go downstairs and enjoy a spot of tea? I asked Dugald to bring some back.”

“I could have been drinking tea every morning?” Alice huffed. “That wretch. He never told me.”

Laughing, Lydia led Alice to the solar, one floor down, where they found a servant dusting. “Ah, Fenella,” Lydia said. “Would you be so kind as to bring elevenses? And a cup for yourself. This is Mistress Alice, the children’s new governess, and she’ll want your opinion as well. About the children.”

“Welcome to Kilburn.” Fenella, a chubby older woman dressed in gray, smiled and left.

“Fenella runs the castle most ably. She leaves me little to do except tend to the children, but now that we have four, we felt we needed a bit of help.” Lydia gestured toward a window embrasure.

Alice sat on the cushioned stone bench set in the nook. “Where are the children now, milady?”

Lydia settled herself into a nearby armchair. “Marian, the baby, is asleep, as is my four-year-old, Carrick. And I must admit that I am not sure where Isobel and Ranald might be. They’re eleven and seven, and a handful, especially Isobel. They are probably out riding.”

“Have they had lessons before, milady?”

“Yes, of course, until I was close to bearing Marian. In about my seventh month, I became very tired and, I’m afraid, let matters go. We still read with them when they go to sleep, and Kier teaches Ranald his sums, for he will one day manage the clan. Mathematics is crucial.” Lydia’s glance was sharp.

Alice nodded. “I understand. Master Ranald must learn everything he will need to know when he becomes laird. I will ask milaird what that is.”

“Carrick also. Kier was born the second son but nevertheless is laird. It is unpleasant to consider, but anything might happen.”

Alice tapped her booted toe on the polished wood floor. “So it’s more important for the boys to learn, but the girls…”

“I hesitate to say that book learning is unimportant, but many of the skills you’ll teach Isobel are less tangible. Yes, we wish her to learn watercolors, drawing and French conversation, but she must also gain the skills necessary to act as a laird’s consort. For she is affianced to Edgar, Laird MacReiver, and she will bear many responsibilities. Managing a castle is not easy.”

Alice had never thought that a lord’s wife—or a laird’s—carried many responsibilities, but Lady Lydia seemed accomplished, and the keys at her waist said that she was a busy woman. P’raps matters here in the Highlands were different from in England, where a lord’s wife had but two duties—produce an heir and a spare.

“She will certainly need to learn mathematics, far more than merely simple sums. Dugald’s letter said that you are the daughter of a professor and quite learned.”

Alice swallowed. “Learned would be an exaggeration, I fear, compared to many I have met. My father was a chemist, so mathematics has been an interest and of course I understand Latin and French. We brought watercolors and charcoals from Glasgow and the children will enjoy them, I think. Whilst we were riding this morn, I saw many beautiful vistas to paint.”

Fenella brought in the tea tray and Alice said, “Milady, you seem to have special concerns about Isobel. What manner of child is she?”

Fenella snorted and exchanged a glance with Lady Lydia. “If I may, milady…”

“Certainly.”

The housekeeper poured tea and handed a cup to Alice. “Young Lady Isobel, unfortunately, knows exactly who she is.”

“Plato felt that self-knowledge was most important. He often quoted Socrates on the subject.” Alice sipped her tea slowly, savoring the hot, strong brew.

“Neither of those gentlemen were acquainted with our Isobel, the daughter of a laird who has been affianced to a laird all her life.” Lydia took her teacup from Fenella with a smile.