Highland Heat (18 page)

But Ruth Hay had run from Robert Chattan, not been put out by his father, so the mystery persisted. She’d never married another either, and the alehouses were often filled with the gossips debating just why.

“Good luck to ye, Roan McLeod, but I do nae owe ye, for if I’d nae told ye of young Kaie’s calling, ye’d have a weeping wife to keep ye company tonight,” Quinton informed him. Owing favors could get a man in trouble fast, and he wasn’t interested in accumulating debt if he could avoid it.

Roan frowned. “Fair enough. I am thankful for that service.”

Roan turned his stallion, and his men followed. The dust rose up as they headed toward Hay land. Quinton smiled, for the first time content with not having anything pressing to keep him away from home.

“Drumdeer!”

***

Deirdre heard the bells ringing. A bolt of excitement raced through her, banishing the gloomy spirits she’d spent most of the day enduring.

“The laird is back,” Amber announced. “No doubt he could no’ stay away for even a night, because ye are here.”

“Amber, that would be foolish for me to allow ye to believe.” Deirdre meant to instruct the girl on what was proper, but Amber was on her feet and out of the small chamber behind the kitchen before she had the opportunity to mention how improper her relationship with Quinton was.

She battled more guilt, because she was now setting a poor example for the Cameron women. No doubt the church would want her locked in the stocks for her immorality.

Of course that would be amusing if Quinton landed there along with her.

She smiled at her own jest, for there was no possibility of it becoming a reality. Quinton was a noble. The priest might lecture him, but there would be no physical chastisement.

No, such a painful corrective measure would be reserved for her.

She shook her head and dipped her quill into the inkwell once more.

“How can I believe ye missed me when ye are paying more attention to that book than the fact I have returned?”

Deirdre jerked her hand away from the ink before she spilled it. “Do nae surprise me like that, Quinton Cameron,” she declared as she rose from her seat. “I might have ruined the ledger, and it has taken me two days to make sense of it.”

He looked surprised, and for a moment, she watched irritation flicker in his eyes over the tone she used. But his gaze swept down her body, sending heat into her cheeks. The low neckline of the overrobe granted him a full view of the swells of her breasts. His lips curved into a sensual grin as his attention settled on the creamy display.

“I should annoy ye more often, lass, for I like that pose ye’ve assumed full well.”

Giggles erupted from the kitchen.

“Oh… I need decent clothing, ye insufferable man.”

He raised his attention to her face, a question in his eyes. “Insufferable?” He clicked his tongue in reprimand. “Now, lass, ye cannae complain about what ye reap from the seeds ye sow.”

She stood straight to minimize the amount of breast he might see. “Is that so? Well, Quinton Cameron, I’ll—”

She never finished, because the man reached across the narrow table and plucked her off her feet in a moment. He tossed her up and over his shoulder, to the delight of the maids peeking around the arched doorway. She sputtered, but he smacked her backside, and the sharp
pop
bounced between the walls of the kitchen while he carried her through them.

“Ye’re a beast,” she whispered so only he might hear her. A soft chuckle was her response as he strode through the hallways and up the stairs to her chamber, with her hanging over his shoulder.

“And ye are a hellion,” he declared once he’d tossed her into the bed she’d spent too many hours thinking about. It bounced as it took her weight, but she only managed to push herself up to her elbows before Quinton joined her.

“And my lover,” he whispered against her ear. His voice was hot and full of intent, which sent her body quivering with eager anticipation. She turned and embraced her lover.

Damn her reasons for needing to avoid his touch.

***

“Ye need to listen to me, Quinton.”

He lifted one eyelid and growled softly, “We’ve communicated quite well for the past few hours, Deirdre.”

“I want some different clothing, and yer people will nae allow me to have it without your approval.” She detested having to ask him for such a thing.

He cupped one of her breasts and rubbed his thumb back and forth across the nipple. “I like ye just like this.”

The man wasn’t taking her seriously. His voice was lazy and still gruff with drowsiness.

“Quinton…”

He rolled over her, pushing her down into the bedding and sealing her demands beneath his kiss. Her mind abandoned thought a few moments later.

***

Simon Smithson heard the door open with a squeal from the rusty hinges. His men all tightened their expressions. He stood up first, stepping forward to face whatever their fate was going to be. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the stories he’d heard of how the Highlanders liked to toy with their prisoners before killing them.

He’d take everything as it came.

Cameron retainers pushed him and his men out of the cell they’d inhabited for the last week and through the musty dungeon. Simon blinked as the sunlight hurt his eyes and blinded him. When his vision finally returned, he discovered himself facing the Earl of Liddell.

“Ye’re free to go.”

Simon frowned, wondering if he’d heard the Scot correctly.

“Get off me land.” The earl pointed Simon toward his horses, their fine leather saddles still on the animals’ backs.

“That’s right. Ye leave with what ye came with,” the earl continued.

“Then where is the lady?” Simon asked. His men hissed at him, fearing his impertinence might gain them the hanging the earl seemed willing to spare them if they left.

“She’s a Scot and belongs here.”

“She’s earned a place with my mistress, and I should take her with us.”

The earl glared at him, narrowing his eyes. Simon didn’t retreat, even when the Highland laird looked like he was considering running him through.

“Do you truly believe only Scots understand duty?” Simon asked. “The lady was in my charge.”

“Well then, you’ll be leaving with almost everything ye came with, for the lady belongs to me,” the earl announced. “Take yer men and go before I lose me patience.”

Quinton watched the English escort leave through a small side gate. They didn’t open it very often, but it would allow the captives to ride down a road that was deserted.

“I did nae expect them to ask for the lady,” Coalan said.

“They cannae have her.”

Quinton was repeating himself, but he didn’t care if anyone thought him deranged for it. Deirdre would be staying.

***

Mary Ross enjoyed many things—fine things and refined items—but such a lifestyle required attention to details. She looked at the letters that had come in from Drumdeer and other castles where she had informants. She selected the one from Drumdeer first because Quinton was still more important than any other man. She opened the letter and began to read, but quickly lost her good humor.

She crumbled the edges of the parchment as her hands began to clench tight with her anger.

The bitch!

No one would take her place in the eagle tower solar.

No one!

Mary paced around her own fine solar, wrinkling her nose at all the things her husband had provided for her.

She wanted none of it. Drumdeer was where she longed to be, and it had been too long since she had been directed by her family to wed a more powerful man. She had been waiting forever for him to die, and yet he lived. Quinton still loved her; such was the reason he’d not married. She knew it, actually felt it inside her heart, and it gave her comfort every time she was forced to tolerate her current husband.

But she couldn’t stand idle while another woman called herself Quinton’s mistress.

She suddenly stopped, a thought forming in her head. Mary hurried back to her letters, scanning the pages again to make sure she understood everything her spy was saying.

Well… if the Chattan girl wanted her place with the queen so badly, Mary would make sure the queen called for her. She looked about to make sure her attendants were still in the outer chamber where she had sent them. Once she was sure they were not peeking through the doorway, she opened her writing desk and took out a very fine piece of parchment.

One worthy of a queen.

***

“Ye’ve impressed my household.”

Deirdre smiled, unable to stop her lips from curving. She was pleased to hear such a compliment from Quinton, for the man didn’t hand them out without a solid reason.

She turned around and looked at him. “Oh my, so this is what you look like by the light of day.”

He tilted his head but shrugged. “Aye, I’m guilty of avoiding ye after sunrise, but I enjoy the night hours full well.”

She pressed her lips into a pout.

“Och now, I did nae mean it like that. Ye’re a handsome woman, Deirdre, but ye have a stubborn nature. I was letting time soften yer attitude.”

“Leave it to a man to call a woman stubborn when she is only attempting to do the right thing,” Deirdre accused him, but her tone lacked true disgruntlement.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If it includes leaving Drumdeer, ye can call me an unmovable ass, but we’re nae discussing it.”

“Clothing…” she hissed at him. “I want a say over what I wear, Quinton.”

He shook his head. “Ye’d slip past me men too easily.”

She slapped her hands down on top of the table where she’d been working. “Ye cannae simply keep me.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew he could do exactly what he wanted. He was laird; no one would go against him.

His blue eyes were dark, contemplating her while he frowned. “I think we’ll go back to seeing one another by moonlight, lass.”

“For how long, Quinton?”

He stopped at the doorway and looked back at her.

“For as long as it takes for ye to admit ye belong with me.”

He was gone before she could utter a retort. The kitchen was silent as the laird walked through it. Deirdre couldn’t sit down, because her temper was rising so fast. She felt as though it would leave blisters on her cheeks, it raged so hot.

“Some lasses would be thankful the laird is willing to shoulder the responsibility for keeping them. It makes things easier between the lairds if the man is the one making such decisions.”

It was the cook who spoke, filling the doorway while rubbing her hands on her apron. There was a look on her face that came with her years of experience. Deirdre sat down, defeated by the logic in the woman’s words.

It was more than that, though.

Deirdre felt the walls pressing in on her. What bothered her most about how she felt was the fact that part of her was relieved. Days had passed into weeks and longer, until a month had gone while she was at Drumdeer. The castle was growing on her, and her will to leave fading.

Her father’s face rose from her memory—the disappointment she’d witnessed in his eyes when she departed for the abbey and her place of shame. She couldn’t take her own happiness again at the expense of her sire.

She mustn’t, for she feared she’d be unable to live with herself if she did.

***

“God damn Douglas,” Quinton growled as he reread the letter in front of him. The messenger who had brought it to him looked rather bored. Obviously the lad had seen similar responses to his master’s letters.

“I’ll be there,” he announced. “Tell yer kin the Camerons will be coming.”

The lad pulled on his bonnet and hurried down to where his horse was waiting. Quinton snorted and stood.

“I suppose it will be good to get out of this room.” But it was the truth that he’d rather stay. Riding the hills by night was no longer drawing his attention as it once had. The confrontation he’d had with Deirdre weighed on his mind as he strapped his sword onto his back and descended to the yard.

He did not want her unhappy.

That thought gnawed on him as he rode out to meet the Earl of Douglas.

***

The bells rang long before sunset.

Deirdre sighed, because her mood was melancholy, and it muddied her thoughts. The day stretched on endlessly, but she refused to leave her duty, in spite of not accomplishing very much. Once the day was finished, she walked to the bathhouse and indulged herself.

But once she was clean, the only place to go was her chamber. The place held too many whispers of the nights she’d spent there with Quinton. She realized she missed him, and the idea of not seeing him that night hurt.

She frowned and forced herself to climb to the bedchamber. She would not wander through the hallways looking lovesick. Her escort trailed her, and she was happy to leave them behind the solid door of the chamber. At least they did not hear her sigh when she stared at the empty chamber.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

“The cook thought ye’d care for something before supper.” The girl offered her a nod before sitting a tray on the table. She never pulled the cloth off and was gone in a flash.

Deirdre felt a touch of suspicion tingle down her spine as she reached for the cloth. When she pulled it away, she discovered a plate of bread and cheese and fresh summer berries.

But there was also a letter.

Her name was clearly written on it, and she picked it up. It was sealed with wax, but there was no signet pressed into it. She broke through the dried wax and unfolded the parchment.

Deirdre…

You have served me well. Your place is waiting for you if you will journey to the black knight of Lorn’s holding to serve me.

Joan Beaufort

Deirdre held the letter close to her chest for a moment. She knew where the black knight of Lorn called home. He was a powerful man, and it made perfect sense that the queen would have chosen him to wed.

“Mistress…” Amber was out of breath and stopped in the doorway to pant. “I did nae realize ye’d be leaving the accounts before supper.”