The Laird's Forbidden Lady (15 page)

He was teasing her. Had to be. ‘Served him right.’

‘‘Tis no laughing matter. She cursed auld Willie McLaughlin and he died within the week.’

A year ago was when she had had her accident. The thought of the old crone’s curse being responsible sent prickles racing across her shoulders. ‘Superstitious nonsense.’ Yet she shivered.

‘Believe what you will, my lady.’

She huffed out a breath. Now he’d gone all stiff and starchy again. She glanced up ahead and saw they’d reached the top of the rise. Her
aching calves and thighs were looking forward to a downhill incline.

In the valley below them, a croft sat beside a small burn, longer and lower than the one they’d just left and as small as a doll’s house. They had a good distance yet to go and Marie Flora was waving at them impatiently.

Worry consumed Ian. Its cold breath licked at his brain, at his gut, deep in his chest.

You abducted Albright’s daughter,
Grannie had said, repeating what the soldiers had said.
Are you mad? He’ll hang ye and anyone helping you.
The old witch had shut the door in his face. A face that probably looked guilty, because while he hadn’t abducted her, he had spent the night with her in his arms. And he would have liked to do a hell of a lot more than that, after their kiss.

The force of what he had felt for this
Sassenach
girl was quite different to anything he’d ever experienced in his life—and he and Drew had sampled their share of females in their wild youth. Women far more experienced in tempting a man than Lady Selina. Hell, he’d even considered marriage to a warm comfortable widow he’d been seeing for years, until Selina’s letter had arrived and turned his life upside down.

Thank God, he’d had enough control not to ruin her last night.

But she was ruined. Somehow the soldiers knew Lady Selina was with him. Or they suspected it, anyway.

The only way to avoid it was to marry her. Acknowledging the truth was like taking a fist to the gut. He didn’t want to think about it.

The very idea left his head spinning. He couldn’t afford a wife, certainly not one of her calibre, a woman used to nothing but the best. And Albright’s daughter, to boot. But he was beginning to feel as if there might be no other option, just as Angus had suggested.

The cottage at the bottom of the glen drew ever closer. William McKinly was a proud, stiff-necked man. If he would take payment for their lodging instead of seeing it as charity, Ian wouldn’t feel so bad about accepting food and drink. But he wouldn’t and that was that.

Before he realised what she was about, Selina left his side and cut across the side of the hill, heading for a burn. Cursing, he followed, watching as she stood on the bank, looking down at the water. What the hell was she about now?

Did she have any idea how delicious she looked in her wild gypsy skirts, with her dark hair hanging in a tangled mane down her back? She looked like a lass well bedded, that’s what she looked like. Even if she wasn’t.

The constant arousal that he’d been dealing with since she’d kissed him of her own free will
and a night spent curled around the softness of her curves, her scent filling his nostrils, hardened to rock.

He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms, kiss those lovely lips and plunge into her heat. Know her, the way a man wants to really know a woman. And if he was honest, it seemed it might be only a matter of time before he gave in to the torment of lust.

Well—apparently he’d made the decision. He could only imagine what she was going to say.

‘Don’t fall in,’ he said, reaching her side.

She gave him a mock glare. ‘I’m not that clumsy.’

She wasn’t clumsy at all. She was graceful, even with the small hesitation in her step that appeared when she was tired. Small and delicate like a wee faery. And all he could think about was getting her in his bed. And there was only one way to accomplish it. Marriage.

It seemed that the seed planted by McIver had taken root.

He watched her balance on a rock, crouch and scoop the water in her cupped palms, sipping delicately as water trickled through her fingers. A sylph who had used her magic to capture him. She shook her hands, wiped them on her skirts before jumping clear.

This was the way he’d remembered her as a girl. A free spirit wandering the hills. Sneaking
out of the keep to meet him day after day until he’d been thoroughly enchanted. But she wasn’t a sprite. She was the daughter of a powerful man. His enemy. And if the man had hated his family before, this was going to make things worse.

She looked over. Caught his gaze and smiled. ‘It tastes lovely.’

Hellfire and brimstone, he’d been staring like some besotted calfling. ‘If you are done, we’ll get along or McKinly will think we are no coming at all.’

He hadn’t meant to growl, but it was better than grinning at her like an idiot.

The smile left her lips. She climbed up the shallow bank. He turned and walked down the hill, leaving her to make her way as best as she could. It was either that or take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

Tonight. He’d reveal her fate tonight, after dinner.

Marriage to a
Sassenach.
And an Albright to boot. What the devil would his mother say? And the clan? Damn them all, if they didn’t like it, they would have to put up with it. He was their Laird. They would abide by his decision.

Marie Flora and her father were waiting at the croft door, where the heather had been beaten back by soft springy grass. A small vegetable
patch behind the cottage was bare of all but a few turnips.

‘McKinly,’ he said, holding out his hand as he neared the man’s threshold. For once, Selina hung back. Afraid of her reception, no doubt.

‘Laird,’ McKinly said. His hair was copper-coloured. Darker than his daughter’s and shot through with silver. The man was stooped and weathered and could have been anywhere from forty to sixty years old, but Ian knew him to be in his late thirties. Crofting in the Highlands aged a man early.

‘Are you well?’ he asked.

‘Aye. Come in. Come in. Take a dram with me. The lass says you’re in need of sustenance.’ His gaze went to Selina, curiosity shining in his blue eyes.

‘Aye, if you can spare it. My wife here is bone weary.’

Wife. The moment he saw McKinly’s measuring stare he realised there was no honourable alternative. Having said it, he had a sense of accomplishment. She’d got herself into this mess trying to help him for friendship’s sake, or out of some misguided sense of obligation, and a Gilvry always paid his debts. They didn’t ruin innocent females, either.

He’d bring the clan round to his way of thinking. Indeed, it was none of their business whom he took to wife. They’d accepted his decisions up
to now and they would damned well accept this one. His mother and brothers would be a different matter and so would her father. It was customary to ask a father for his daughter’s hand, but it wasn’t as if Albright could refuse. Not under the circumstances.

Marriage to Selina wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He definitely wanted her in his bed more than any other woman he’d ever met. He’d been aching from the denial all night. And he had no doubt that she wanted him, too. It was a starting place and surely not such a bad one.

Aware of Selina’s sharp stare and her prodding finger in his ribs, he glanced down into her upturned face. ‘Isn’t that right, my sweet?’ The thought she might deny his words burned a path through his gut.

‘So you are married, then?’ McKinly said.

Ian looked at Selina, warning her with his gaze.

‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘We are married.’

And that was that. Guilt churned in his gut that he’d not discussed this with her, but there would be time enough later.

She smiled at their host. ‘I am sorry to be such an imposition, Mr McKinly. We appreciate that you were not expecting us and would not wish to put you to any trouble.’

Politeness itself and no brittle society manners, no breathy little-girl voice, just a calm
friendly manner with a touch of a lilt to her voice. He let go a sigh of relief.

McKinly grinned. ‘Welcome, lady.’

His last-minute instinct had been right. As his wife, she lost her status as
Sassenach.
Stranger. As his wife, any discourtesy to her was discourtesy to him.

A boy of about six wiggled his head between his father’s legs. ‘Is that the Laird, Da?’ He turned his face upwards to look at Ian. ‘Is it?’ The child spoke the Gaelic.

‘Oh,’ Selina said. ‘And who are you?’

‘My youngest son, Tommy,’ his father said, shaking his head at the impish face. ‘Come away, lad. Let me pass. How is the Laird to get through the door with your head blocking my way?’

The head disappeared.

McKinly stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.

Ian bowed to Selina and waved her forwards.

‘Thank you, Mr McKinly,’ she said as she passed the man and stepped inside. ‘I am honoured by your hospitality.’

He felt as proud as a barnyard cock as he followed her in. A peat fire smoked in a low stone hearth with a stew pot hung over it. The dwelling was poor, but it was clean. The small boy retreated to settle beside the fire and pulled
a whittling knife from his pocket and a small piece of wood.

Ian watched the way Selina looked around the croft, her face carefully blank, but he could imagine what she was thinking.

A pang of guilt twisted in his chest. This was not the kind of dwelling for a woman used to the luxuries of life, a woman brought up to live in the society of London. Married to him, her lot would be little better.

He would make it better.

‘I am glad to see you well, McKinly,’ he said in tones a little too hearty, but apparently McKinly noticed nothing wrong.

‘You were lucky to catch me at home,’ McKinly said as he poured drams into clay drinking cups. ‘I was off to make hay in the next valley this afternoon.’ He offered one to Selina. She smiled and shook her head. McKinly’s eyebrow shot up, but he made no demur.

McKinly did not deserve to have his hospitality thrown back in his face. Ian’s voice was harsh when he spoke. ‘Take a dram with us, lady wife.’

Eyes wide, Selina looked ready to argue, then pressed her lips together as McKinly handed her the rejected cup and poured another for himself.

Selina shot Ian a look while the man’s back was turned. No doubt he’d hear some words from her, but he was glad she decided to wait
to get him alone before speaking her piece. She was a smart woman, no doubt about it.

‘I’d no heard you were getting married, Laird?’ McKinly said, his face full of curiosity. He shook his head. ‘Though there’s no reason why I should, I’ve seen no one for weeks. My congratulations to you.’ He smiled albeit a little grimly. ‘And to you, lady. Please be seated.’

Selina’s smile as she took the wooden chair he offered was stiff. ‘You are very kind, Mr McKinly.’

Marie Flora stood beside her, staring at her adoringly. Ian knew the feeling. Even here in these dreadful surroundings, and after a night spent in the worst of circumstances, she was lovely.

‘To you and your bride,’ McKinly toasted.

Ian tossed off his dram. Selina wet her lips and her eyes watered. At least she didn’t cough and choke.

While McKinly turned to refill his and Ian’s cups, Ian took hers and swallowed down the contents. She gave him a smile of gratitude and refused the refill offered by McKinly.

The man gestured for him to sit on the trestle at the table, his eyes sharp and bright. ‘What brings our Laird wandering the hills on foot?’

‘Gaugers,’ Ian replied, seeing no reason to lie. All Highlanders despised the King’s Revenue men.

McKinly frowned. ‘You’re a fool to be running afoul of them and you just married.’

‘Aye.’ Ian grinned. ‘Needs must.’

‘You’ll be wanting a room for a night or two, perhaps?’ McKinly said.

‘At least one night, if you can spare it. A corner by the fire or in the byre.’

McKinly looked shocked. ‘Certainly not.’

Selina looked doubtful. ‘We should really be moving on.’

Ian shook his head. ‘Not until we know how things stand at Dunross.’

She looked ready to argue, then shrugged. ‘Then thank you, Mr McKinly.

‘Not at all,’ the Scotsman said. He glanced at his daughter. ‘Marie Flora, put fresh linens on the bed.

The child beamed. ‘Yes, Da.’

Selina smiled at the child. ‘Show me where it is and I will help you.’

The lass was doing her best not to shame him. Somehow she knew this was important. His heart seemed to grow too large for his chest, as if he really was a proud bridegroom. Well, he was, really, wasn’t he?

He gave her a grin of approval. She raised a brow in reply and rose to follow the child.

‘I’ll see you at supper,’ McKinly said, rising to his feet. ‘My older lad has already left for the
fields. I was waiting for the girl to return with the eggs before joining him.’

‘About that older boy of yours—I’ve an errand for him.’

‘Oh, aye.’

‘I need him to take a message to Niall.’

McKinly looked grim, but nodded his agreement.

Ian had a pretty good idea of the source of his worry. ‘I’ll take up his scythe while he’s gone. It will do me good to get some exercise.’

McKinly’s face split in a grin, clearly relieved. ‘Well, now, there’s always plenty to do around here.’

‘Can I come, Da?’ the boy sitting in the corner asked.

‘No, Thomas,’ his father replied. ‘You have your own work to do. And I need you here to take care of the womenfolk.’

The boy’s scrawny chest puffed up and then he returned to his work with the knife. Ian moved closer to see what he was working on, but the lad hunched over it. ‘It’s not finished.’

‘Leave him, Laird. The lad is a mite odd about his carvings. Doesn’t let anyone see them until they are done.’ He raised his voice. ‘Marie Flora?’ The girl popped her head out of the adjoining room. ‘We’ll see you at suppertime. Be sure you have a good meal waiting.’

‘Yes, Da.’

Selina appeared beside the child. Ian leaned in and kissed her lips and almost chuckled at her gasp of surprise. ‘We’ll talk later,’ he murmured against her mouth. When he pulled away he saw a blush creep up her snowy cheeks.