Dark Side of the Laird (Highland Bound) (5 page)

Chapter Five

Emma

T
he hair on the back of my neck prickled, stood on end. Dirt covered the tip of my nose as I scratched it a half a dozen times trying to get rid of the incessant tickle. Signs. All signs of someone watching me. That was, if I believed in superstition. An ominous feeling churned in my gut. I believed all right.

After traveling five-hundred years back in time, I was liable to believe anything. Given the number of threats made against myself and Logan since I arrived, it would probably be smart if I did trust my body’s warnings.

I dusted my hands of dirt and stood, turning in a circle slowly as I observed those in the garden. The same clanswomen I worked with each and every day labored tirelessly. Some bent over in the dirt as I’d been, others carrying baskets. A couple of the castle dogs wandered in the pathways, getting pats from a few and swats from others. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. There were no strangers—no Lady Isabella, in particular.

So why did it feel like I was—

There—in the shadows by the wall, near the gate where a path led from the gardens to the inner bailey at the front of the castle stood a figure in shadows. The sun glinted in just the right way so I couldn’t see who it was—but I had a good idea.

Isabella.

So she was there after all. Damn.

I put my hands over my eyes, shading the sun and the outline of her gown came into view. She was spying on me
, quite obviously. She made no move to leave after I’d seen her. A shiver stole down my spine, curling its way around my middle. For some reason, I feared her presence more than I’d feared anyone else’s the entire time I’d been there. More than the men who attacked the castle on numerous occasions. More than the king who wished to take me to his bed. More than the dark and cold shifts of air in the secret chamber buried fifty feet below the castle. This woman stood for all that could undo me.

She had the king’s blessing. She had the backing of her evil, powerful uncle. She knew more about this country, this castle, the workings of society than I did, and she was playing by society’s rules.

I was a harlot in her eyes, and she meant to dispose of me. Question was, would she win?

I frowned and removed my hand from shading my eyes. I couldn’t let her win, but I needed some way to push her out. Some way to win this silent battle.

“What’s got ye looking so stern?” Cook said as she sidled up to me.

I glanced at her, watching her stiffen as she saw where I looked. But when I looked back, Isabella was gone and the gate was shifting closed.

“Her, I see,” Cook said.

“Yes. Her.”

“Dinna fash about her, lass. The laird willna take her to wed.”

I cocked my head, suddenly interested. “Why do you say that?”

“She’s kin of the MacDonald of course.”

I was a little disappointed at her answer, hoping she would have given me more than that.
Like maybe I was better, or Isabella sucked ass. I nodded. “Does that matter if the king has decided they should be married?”

Cook grunted in disgust. “Dinna underestimate his lairdship. He’s often led the king away from disaster. He but needs t
o coddle the man a bit more.” She turned away from the gate and met my eyes, her expression thoughtful. I’d never seen her this way before. Cook was all about orders and people doing what she told them. Now it appeared she looked at me as though we were friends. “He’ll need all the support he can get, my lady, if ye know my meaning.”

I thought I did, but one never knew when dealing with people five hundred years in t
he past. Some things seemed to get lost in the translation. “I’m not sure I do.”

“Might I speak out of turn?” she asked
, sidling closer so that no one could overhear us.

“Of course
,” I said, keeping my voice just as hushed as hers.

“Ye love Laird Grant, do ye nay?”

I swallowed, frowning and crossing my arms over my chest. “I suppose I’ve been more obvious about it than I thought.”

“We can all see it in the way ye look at him.” She smiled. “He is a mighty fine warrior.”

“That he is.” I nodded.

“If ye love him, dinna let him go.”

I smoothed out my apron, though there wasn’t a wrinkle in it. “I’m not sure I’ll have a choice in the matter. King’s wishes and all.”

“Well, now,” she scoffed. “If we all thought that way, what a sorry mess we’d be. Show him what ye have to offer. Prove to him that he’ll be better for it. Sometimes a man needs a swift kick in the arse to move forward with what is right. They like to mull it over. Seems the only time I’ve ever seen a man jump to do anything was when they were threatened by the enemy face to face.”

A soft chuckle escaped me. My arms fell to my sides. “I guess they like to make sure when they finally act that they’ve made the right decisions.”

“Behind every man who’s made the right choice is a woman who made the choice for him. If he’s in the wrong, he likely came up with the idea himself.”
Cook nodded as if her words were fact—and I couldn’t help laughing in turn.

“Cook!” I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I had a lot more confidence in Logan than
that. He was smart, tactical, loyal, sensual, caring… Oh, I could wax on about him all day, but that wasn’t going to do me any good. “Logan—I mean, Laird Grant, is extremely intelligent.”

The woman looked suddenly contrite. “I meant no disrespect, honest. I was but suggesting ye push him along in making his decision to confront… ye know
who,” she ended on a whisper behind her hand.

Judging from the way Cook shifted on her feet and was suddenly wringing her hands I had a good idea I’d made her nervous, and now she felt she couldn’t speak freely.

I reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. Sending her a friendly smile, I said, “I do greatly appreciate your advice, and trust me, I will take it to heart. I need to talk to him about this situation. He needs to make it right for the clan, and I pray he’ll choose the best option.”

“Which is ye.” Cook looked back to her old self.

I smiled, hating seeing that sudden break in her smile. “I think so.”

She smiled back at me. “Good. Now finish up with those onions and quit looking off into the distance like ye think your life is over.”

I
flopped onto the chair in my room, back a bit sore from bending over for hours in the garden and then trekking basket upon heavy basket into the castle and down the cellar stairs. No wonder the women of the Highlands were so robust. Every muscle ached.

There was a soft knock at the door and then Agatha popped her head in. Damn, I’d forgotten to lock the door. I needed to get into the habit of doing that…

“Cook said ye might like a bath, my lady.”

The thought of submerging my sore body into a tub of steamy wat
er almost had me crying out Hallelujah. I nodded and smiled. “Thank ye.”

She opened the door wide and servants rushed in with a wooden tub, buckets of steamy water and all the supplies I’d need to wash.
After the bath was set up, Agatha started to help me undress, but I brushed her hands aside.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone,” I said.

Agatha gave me an odd look. “But, my lady—”

“Please.”

She bowed her head. “Some wine, then.”

It was her job to serve as my maid, and I was grateful to have her, but sometimes, being fawned over, was a little much. And I wanted to enjoy the peace and relaxation of the bath without having to chatter with Agatha who loved to talk my ear off. I wanted to wash my own hair. I used to love going to the salon and having my hair washed and blow dried, but now… Now it was a task that had been taken away from me, and there was enough things taken already.

I nodded and she poured me a glass, handing it to me on her way to the door.

“Call out for me if ye’re in need, my lady. I’ll be just beyond the door.”

I shook my head. “I can’t stand the idea of you just sitting outside my door. Why not go do something for yourself for the next hour or so and then come back?”

Agatha looked as though I’d asked her to climb to the top of the battlements and leap off.

“Go on. That’s an order.”

A twinkle came into her eyes. “Well now, lass, if ’tis an order, I just may go and rest my feet a bit.”

“Good.” I smiled and waved her out of the room. Following behind her, I barred the door and feeling slightly guilty for pushing her away. But, I was also pleased she’d go and have a little rest for herself. She deserved it.

I shucked my clothes, shivering at the draft that swirled around my ankles. There was a fire lit, which did a good job warming the room, but even still, nothing beat modern
furnaces. The wine helped a little, but mostly just to heat my cheeks.

I hopped from foot to foot, the wooden planks of the floorboards like ice against my toes. Once I made it to the tub, I nearly leapt into the warm water—a stark contrast to the temperature of the room.

Sinking down into the steamy bath, I closed my eyes and let the water cover my ears, until the world ceased to exist. Black behind my eyes, and silence in the water. I could imagine that I was anywhere, anyone. And yet, I imagined being here at Gealach and that I was myself. I smiled, realizing that for the first time, I was proud to be me. I’d finally found a place I belonged. Funny—and sad—that it was five hundred years in the past. I should have been born in another time.

With a sigh of resignation, I sat up in the tub and grabbed th
e bar of soap Agatha left. It smelled of lavender this time. The clan made their own soaps, and every time a different scent was used. The last one had been rosemary, and while it was a heavenly scent, I couldn’t help but feel a little like I was preparing myself for the oven like a turkey.

Using the linen washcloth, I soaped it up and then washed the grime of the garden from my hands, and arms, cleansing myself in both mind and body. The lavender
was calming.

A few swift taps came from the sliding door that connected my bedroom to Logan’s, and then it
slid open, revealing his brawny figure to me.

“Emma—” He stopped suddenly on an indrawn breath, eyes dark
ening as he watched me, one arm suspended in mid-air as I washed it.

“Hello,” I said, pretending that I hadn’t noticed the sudden, intense desire that filled his features.
I continued to circle soap on my arm drawing closer to my shoulders and breasts.

“Ye’re in the bath.”

I pressed my lips together to hold in a laugh. “Yes. I was filthy from gardening.”

He stepped into the room and slid the door closed between our chambers. Without a word he grabbed one of my chairs and slid it over to the tub, stopping behind me. I heard the creek of the chair as he sat in it, and then his hands were on my hair, his fingers threading trenches.

“Ye’ve such beautiful hair. Soft and silky and as fiery as your passion.” I felt his mouth near my ear, his breath tickling my skin and sending skitters of chills up and down my limbs. “Let me wash it?”