Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Notorious in the West\Yield to the Highlander\Return of the Viking Warrior (30 page)

Soon, they stood in front of a cottage that was twice the size of Gowan's. A small enclosed yard sat next to it, clearly a garden, and it had two chimneys, telling her of two hearths. Although Cat wanted to remain there, Ciara released her arm, walked up the path and opened the door. ‘I pray you, come inside.'

Then she realised what this was about. The laird had arranged a new place for her, mayhap to serve the lady of this house? She had no objection to honest, hard work and would prefer to keep busy at tasks and chores than sit and contemplate her recent woes. She walked ahead of Muireall, noting the well-kept look of the cottage and, once inside, the clean, comfortable furnishings, nicely arranged in what looked to be two private chambers and the one larger one that served as both kitchen and common room. No byre to hold cattle or other livestock inside—that must be out behind the house, next to the garden. This was the house of someone higher than the usual villager.

But, the one thing missing was anyone who lived here.

Ciara walked to the table and motioned for Cat and Muireall to join her there. A parchment, a small jar of ink and a quill lay in the centre there. As she sat down, Cat continued to look for any signs of an inhabitant and found none—no clothing, no personal items, nothing.

‘Aidan and the laird asked my father to handle this matter, but he thought it best handled by me. “A woman's softer touch” or some such nonsense. Since he tends to be a bit more familiar with crop agreements and warriors sworn in service, I thought it would be kinder to you to do as he asked.'

‘Kinder? I do not understand,' she said, glancing from Ciara's kind smile to her friend's worried one.

‘Because of the results of your involvement with the laird's son, and now with your husband's death, you are left homeless and destitute. The MacLerie and Aidan wish to give you some assurances that you will be cared for.'

She wanted to argue that there was no involvement, but she could not dispute that the attention of the earl's son had dragged her good name in the dirt and caused her to become a pariah in the village.

‘This house, yours now, is granted in consideration of serv—your relationship with the earl's son. A small stipend will be provided for your care and the house's upkeep. If any bairns result, they will be taken care of accordingly.'

‘I cannot have bairns,' she blurted out when she should have corrected this woman's assumptions about what had or had not happened between them.

The smile on Ciara's face turned even softer then and a sadness entered her eyes. Cat saw that same reaction from any woman who'd had her own children—a mix of understanding, sympathy and utter sadness at what a lack of bairns would mean in their lives. She blinked, knowing that tears gathered and would fall, exposing her true feelings to this stranger, no matter her confidence in discussing such personal issues in the manner of a transaction.

‘To protect you and to give you some assurance that this is a binding agreement, Aidan asked me to prepare this for you.' Ciara held out the parchment, which lay covered in rows and rows of words Cat could not read. ‘Muireall, if you would?'

So, the earl's son either knew or suspected she could not read and had suggested Muireall's presence for just this situation. Gair's family had all benefited from his first training and now serving as steward to the MacLerie. Reading and writing had been taught to his brothers and his sister as well.

‘Why not take a look around?' Ciara suggested as they sat in the still and utter silence, waiting for Muireall to read the document that would determine her future.

She smiled, nodded and rose from the chair on shaking legs. Walking to the furthest place in the cottage, she entered one of the two private chambers.

A bedroom.

A large bed, too, off the ground on a wooden frame that must be rope-strung...and comfortable.

Several trunks and a small table with two stools sat in the corners of the chamber. A good-sized hearth that promised to keep out the cold and dampness shared a wall with the other chamber next to it.

This would be warm and dry and private.

The unavoidable fact that she'd been trying not to think about came crashing down on her—this house was for Aidan MacLerie's leman. A place where they could meet and where he could spend the night in her bed. With his lover.

With Catriona.

She swallowed deeply against every sort of image and thought that brought up.

And yet, where was the righteous anger that she should feel over this? The man had sent his cousin to barter like the fishmongers she'd seen selling their wares near the river. He'd never asked her. Turning around, seeing the whole of the chamber as it was meant to be, she now understood the strange discussion with Ciara.

‘Catriona?' She pivoted to find Muireall in the doorway, staring at her with a confused expression.

‘Have you read it? What does it say?' she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, but unable to hide the shivers that coursed through her body at the thought of spending nights here with a man she did not know.

Muireall came close and motioned her even closer. Leaning their heads together, her friend explained everything in a whisper.

‘He is publicly declaring you and claiming that you are his leman. This house...' she glanced around the chamber and then back at Cat ‘...this house is yours no matter what happens between you. The laird has given it to you. There is a settlement for you, he's calling it your “widow's portion”, provided by the earl in gratitude for Gowan's loyal service to help you save face. And there will be money every year for your care.'

Stunned by the generosity and the nerve, Cat could not even think of questions to ask.

‘And you said you did nothing with him?' Muireall asked.

‘He kissed me once and I slapped him.' At the doubt in her friend's eyes, she shook her head. ‘Nothing else. There is nothing else between us!'

‘Catriona,' Muireall began to advise her. ‘I have seen enough men to know a couple of things about them and about men like Aidan MacLerie.' She looked around to see if Ciara had moved from the table and drew Cat over to the window. ‘First, this, all this...' she waved a finger at the house ‘...this speaks of two things to me—guilt and desire. That he feels guilty about his behaviour speaks well of him. The desire is not a surprise considering him and considering you.' Muireall's gaze fell to Cat's breasts, which she'd always thought too large. ‘And he is willing to pay for his pleasure, not like most nobles.'

‘Muireall!' Shaking her head, she asked, ‘How many noblemen do you know?'

‘I have lived here my whole life and seen my share of them, Cat. And believe me, some don't pay, they just take. At least the young lord is looking to protect you and to provide for you. Better than most women can expect to be treated, at that.'

‘Are you suggesting I let him pay to bed me?' she asked.

‘I believe you when you say that nothing has happened between you. But...' she glanced out to the common room and lowered her voice again ‘...the arrangements he's made for you, they speak of his desire for you and his hope that something will. So, make no mistake in this—he wants you and he wants you in that bed.'

‘I will refuse this, him,' she said. ‘I cannot whore for him.' Cat stepped back and turned to go out and refuse these shackles. And she would have, if Muireall had not grabbed her wrist to stop her. ‘You think I should do this?'

‘There is not a word in that document that requires you keep the arrangement between you, or requires bedplay in exchange for this house. Nothing is promised by you at all. Only him. Aidan promises in it that this is all freely given for reasons known only to him and you.' Muireall let go of her hand and took a breath, shaking her head. ‘I am no solicitor and no peacemaker as Ciara and her stepfather are, but the wording is clear and concise. This is all yours once you sign that contract.'

It made no sense. Contracts were agreements in which each party got and gave. If he was giving this, he must expect something in return? Or did he truly feel guilty over her spiral down into disgrace because of his attempts to seduce her?

‘And if I refuse? If I do not sign it?'

Muireall shrugged. ‘I think that is what you need to ask Ciara now and Aidan when he arrives later.'

‘He is coming here?'

The smile that met her question made it clear how her friend viewed the situation and exactly what she though Aidan MacLerie expected to happen. A pointed glance across the chamber at the bed, that bed, and a tilt of her head confirmed it.

Even if everyone in the village thought she was his lover already and even though she faced a bleak future, she would not be paid to give herself to any man. She had faced death once to avoid it and she would have to find a way out this time as well.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Catriona understood what she had to do now. She walked back into the common room where Ciara and the damning document sat waiting for her.

‘I think this is something I should talk to the earl's son about before I agree to anything,' she said.

The lift of one eyebrow was the only sign of a reaction from Ciara. If she'd thought this a matter accomplished, she gave no sign of dismay at all.

‘I will await your word then, Catriona. Aidan said he would arrive here shortly so you can speak to him directly. All you have to do is sign this, or make your mark on this line, and return it to me.'

After pointing to the place to be signed, Ciara stood and nodded to both of them before walking to the door. Just before pulling the door open, Ciara turned back and smiled once more.

‘I have handled many matters, both personal and legal, for my cousin Aidan. But not once has he ever done anything like this for any other woman with whom he was involved. That makes me wonder why he is doing this for you?'

She could not speak, could not think, so she just watched as the young woman left. Muireall was about to close the door when Ciara rushed back and pushed against it.

‘I pray you not to be insulted, but if you wish to learn how to read and write, I would be willing to teach you. Stop by any morning if you are interested.'

Surprise seemed to follow surprise this day and that offer, an incredibly generous and kind one and not insulting at all, was the last one she could withstand. She moved across the room and sat down on one of the large, cushioned chairs there.

‘I must return home, Cat,' Muireall explained. ‘Are you going to wait here?' Cat nodded, not otherwise moving or speaking. So overwhelmed at this point that she could not, she could only nod when her friend kissed her cheek and took her leave.

And she waited to speak directly to the man who was at the centre of her downfall, but who might also be the one who could help her the most. Was he acting honourably as both Ciara and Muireall seemed to think? Was he making reparations for his actions? Could she trust her usually misguided sense of how men acted in something that could save or end her honour and possibly her life?

Chapter Nine

S
tanding before the house he'd arranged for her, Aidan felt as though he'd aged a score of years in these last weeks since first seeing Catriona at the well.

Then, bent on seduction, he had teased and followed her, expecting that she would, like all the others had, fall madly in love or lust with him and they would spend countless hours sharing pleasures of the flesh until his ardour for her cooled. And then there would be another. Even the thought of marriage had not changed his thinking on what his life would be like.

Her naked in his bed.

Then the repercussions he'd not considered had happened—she'd refused him, they'd been exposed, or his attempts had been—and she'd faced the censure of the villagers as a married woman cuckolding her very popular husband.

His harmless suggestion to send Gowan on a training assignment became a death warrant for the man. Not because of Aidan sending him off, but because the man died trying to return after hearing of the rumours. Rumours, not fact, had killed the man. Rumours that were his fault.

His father's eyes had widened when he'd explained what he wanted for her. Though he'd parted ways with women on good terms with a bauble or sack of coins to ease his way out the door, he felt he needed to do this even though she'd never shared his bed. It was the right thing to do....

Though he could not deny that he still wanted her.

Even knowing he'd caused her husband's death. Even knowing that it would seem like he was simply using her. Even though it would be better to turn the house over to her and walk away. At this moment, standing there, waiting to knock and go inside, his body readied to join with hers. His cock cared nothing for good intentions or bad ones. He knew it could be good between them and not just for him.

For he'd noticed that, as she went about her chores and errands, and other than the few times they'd exchanged words or spoke, she never smiled. Oh, a polite one here and there when greeting someone she knew, but the smile that curved those voluptuous lips of her mouth into a bow that begged to be kissed? Never one of those.

She had had a hard life, he'd discovered after seeking out more about her. Brought here about two years ago by her much older husband, she seemed to exist by serving someone else. Whether Gowan or his son or her friend Muireall, her needs never seemed to matter.

He laughed then, at himself mostly, for he stood here, in the dark, outside a house he'd given to a woman he'd never touched. He, the consummate womaniser, stood lusting over a woman who did not want him. But the worst thing? The worst thing was that he stood here with his stomach clenching and nervous sweat on his palms, waiting to knock on her door.

His feet moved without thought and, as he raised his hand to knock, Aidan realised how that would fail to do the one thing he'd hoped would happen—give her the protection that her living here in what everyone thought was his house would give her. No one would dare to treat her with disrespect. As his leman, the woman he claimed as his, none would mistreat her without worrying over the results. No other man would approach her. Now, in front of the door, he knew that a man did not knock on his own house or that of the woman he kept in his bed and under his protection.

He let his hand drop to the latch and he lifted it, easing the door open and stepping inside. In the almost pitch darkness, lit by one small lantern sitting above the hearth, he reached for the kindling and added some of the wood, chopped and piled by the stone hearth. Soon a fire began to chase away the chill of the cold room. It was only then that he spied her, sitting in a large chair in the darkened corner of this larger, open chamber.

Her head leaned back against the cushioning, tilting to the left. Her hair was loose and fell in waves, covering her shoulders and breasts. Her hands lay on the arms of the chair and she'd drawn her legs up under her. A sigh escaped her lips and she shifted—his body tightening in response to the sight of her there. Part of him wanted her to wake, but another part just wanted to savour gazing at her in such a state of repose. Aidan walked to the other chair and sat in it, trying not to disturb her.

Now he saw other things. The dark smudges that marred the skin under her eyes. The cheeks that seemed less full. The need to sleep now rather than after the evening meal. All signs of exhaustion and not eating enough. Grief and worrying did that.

And he did not like it.

He thought about carrying her in and placing her on the bed, but he feared waking her. So, he waited. The heat began to spread and warm the room. Watching her sleep, he wondered what her reaction would be? His cousin said she had refused to sign the paper that would give her clear ownership of the house and the settlement. Did she not want it or did she not want it from him?

A piece of wood in the hearth popped, sending sparks into the draught of air travelling up through the chimney while the sound echoed loudly enough that Catriona stirred. First her eyes fluttered open and then she pushed herself up to sit. He could tell the exact moment when she noticed him there. After a moment of confusion, her gaze cleared and she rose, curtsying before him.

‘My lord,' she said, in a voice husky from sleep. ‘I did not mean to fall asleep.'

Would she be compliant and polite now, weighed down by scandal and grief for her husband? The man Aidan had, for all other intents and purposes, sent to his death?

‘Catriona. You do not need to stand before me like a servant,' he said. ‘I pray you to sit again.'

He thought she might refuse when she paused for a few, very long seconds. Then she sat once more, her back rigid, the mahogany tresses of hair flowing around her with every breath she took.

‘I would have been here sooner to speak to you, but duties kept me away.' Now he stood and walked to the hearth. ‘You must have questions?'

‘What is this about, my lord?' she asked softly, her gaze not meeting his. ‘Why this? Why me?'

‘Catriona.' He waited for her to look at him. When she did not, he spoke her name again, louder. ‘Catriona.' Those deep-blue eyes filled with sorrow now met his and he ached to destroy every bit of sadness there. ‘I caused much of the pain you are suffering. I wanted you and wanted no one and nothing to stand in the way of that.'

‘So Muireall was right, then? This is about guilt and desire? Mostly guilt from the sound of it.'

He smiled. Muireall, like many MacLerie women, was intelligent and outspoken and, most times, correct in her assessment. ‘She is partly right. Guilt? Aye, guilt drove me to arrange with my father for this house and a settlement for you.' He stepped closer to her, crouching down so that their faces were at the same level. ‘But never doubt that desire played a bigger part.'

A lovely blush crept up from her neck to her chin and then into her cheeks, brightening her paleness.

‘I have never been alone with a man not my father or my husband or other kin,' she whispered. ‘Or spoken of such matters before.'

‘And I have never explained my desires to anyone before,' he admitted with a grin. ‘Actually, I have never had to talk about them with the woman I want—we usually went straight to bedplay and discussed very little at all.'

Another admission, but a true one. As her blush deepened, he realised that with most of the women he'd wanted or slept with, a wink or a kiss told her she was wanted and they ended up entwined in passion. He'd never wanted or had to discuss personal matters with a woman.

He wanted her. He got her. He had her.

‘And now?' she asked, her voice trembling.

‘Now, you own this house. 'Tis yours along with the settlement from my father.'

‘And the contract that your cousin presented to me? What does that mean? I ken you feel guilty about the rumours that spread. I ken that you overstepped, but 'tis not like you killed Gowan and owe me a widow's portion.'

Could she see the truth of it in his eyes? He looked away and took a breath. If she knew the truth, there was no chance of anything between them. If she knew he had been the one to send Gowan away, she would hate him for ever.

‘My father believed it the right thing to do since Gowan has served him for nigh on a score-and-ten years,' he said.

His father's shocked expression as Aidan had taken responsibility for something he'd caused flashed in his thoughts. Though feared and ruthless, his father also lived by a clear rule of right and wrong. This was the right thing to do for many reasons, some Aidan would not share now or ever with her.

Ciara's reaction was more comical. She had perfected Duncan's glacial expression while still young and that led to her being able to observe treaty and alliance discussions. She learned not to react, not to give away her feelings or opinions on any matter, large or small. Her experience deserted her a sennight ago when she was brought in and asked to handle this personal matter. Though it pleased him to know he could act as a man should act, it saddened him somehow to realise that no one expected him to do that.

‘And the other reason?' she asked, breaking into his reverie. ‘Has that faded away?' Neither from her words nor her tone could he tell if she would be pleased or not by the answer he gave.

‘I still want you, Catriona. God forgive me, I want you as I have not wanted a woman before.' It was the truth.

She trembled, then, at his words. Could she tell he would have stripped off her clothing and carried her to the bed if she but gave the word? The length of his shirt and plaid covered the strength of his erection from her sight, but he felt it and knew his words were true. He'd lived in a state of constant arousal since his first sight of her at the well.

There was, though he was loathe to admit it, something more and very different about her and his need and desire for her. He'd never wanted to forgo his pleasure in the past, yet he would wait if she said he needed to. He'd never wanted to explain his actions or take responsibility for them, yet she made him want to take the right path. Now, more than before, he would do what he needed to do to see things right by her.

‘But I will wait until you give the word. I know you mourn and you are ashamed. I know this is unexpected....'

‘It is too big,' she said, pushing up to stand. He moved back to give her room.

‘So only the size of it matters, then?' Another time, another woman would have heard the innuendo in his words, but not now and not Cat. ‘No matter. It is yours to do whatever you wish to with. Sell it. Give it. Live in it. The choice is yours. Sign it or not—just live here and make it your own.' He turned to face her as she paced along the hearth. ‘I just wanted to make things better for you.'

‘And for you, my lord? Is this not about having a house where you can visit your leman?' She glared at him now. ‘Tell me true, I beg you.'

He did not tell her. With just three long strides, he crossed the room and took her by her shoulders, drawing her to him. If she'd been afraid, he would never have done such, but there was no fear in her gaze. Staring at her mouth, he wondered if she would slap him this time.

He slid his arms around her and possessed her mouth with his. She tasted sweet, her mouth hot as she opened for him, hot as he plunged his tongue deep inside her. Aidan slipped his hands up to her head, tangling them in her hair and holding her mouth to his. Over and over, he kissed her, needing and wanting to be deeper inside her and letting his tongue do what his cock wanted to do.

She gasped for breath against his mouth when he lifted it from her and they shared the same air, their panting breaths echoing in the silence of the room. When he regained control, control that was stretched to nearly its breaking point by this artless kiss, he stepped back. No slap this time, but when Catriona lifted her hand and touched her lips, it threatened to rip any control away.

Before he could fail in his attempt to put this in her control, Aidan walked to the door and lifted the latch, letting the cold air pass over his heated body.

‘I want you, Catriona. As my leman, as my lover—what you call it matters not to me. I want to peel through the layers you have built up to reveal the woman beneath. I want to strip you naked and have my way with you. I want you to have your way with me,' he said, passion tightening his gut, his throat and his ballocks. ‘But it is your decision and it does not change that you own this house and receive that settlement.'

Her body shivered at his words. Good, for it told him that she was as affected as he was by the restrained passion between them. ‘That is the last time I will kiss you until you ask it of me.' Opening the door wider, he smiled at her.

‘On the morrow, buy what you need to make this house your own. Food, linens, clothing. Whatever you need.'

‘They will not accept my coin,' she whispered, the words of her shame slashing deep into his heart.

‘There is a sack of coins for your use in the small trunk there,' he said, pointing to the bedroom. ‘They will not dare to refuse
my
coin. And they will not dare to insult you while you live under my protection. Even if you cannot accept me, at least accept that which my name gives you.'

From the shaking nod, he could not tell if she would follow his instructions. He would be able to tell more when he visited the next night.

‘I will come tomorrow night.'

‘For what purpose?'

‘No matter what is truly between us, we must look as though this is what everyone believes it to be. When my duties permit it, I will visit and spend the night,' he explained, nodding his head at the smaller of the two rooms.

‘Everyone in Lairig Dubh will think I am your leman,' she said.

‘Just so.'

‘And will I be?'

‘Cat, I will try my damnedest to make that happen.'

He turned then, walking out before he changed his mind and pushed the matter. There would be time now, days, but mostly nights, when he could ply his wiles and seek her surrender.