Highland Scandal (17 page)

“Ma.” He leapt to his feet. “Lachlan said I can eat tonight’s meal wit you, but I mustna get dirty or I may have to eat in the barn. I dinna wanna eat there because if I get dirty, I’ll have to wash again.”

Lachlan palmed the top of Kenny’s head. “I want you to go with Barabla. She has two brothers you can play with.”

Kenny raced off, waving at Rowen. “Now, tell me what you have learned.”

She went to the table and poured herself some wine. She offered a cup to Lachlan, who accepted with a nod. “There is much she is not telling me. I do not know whether she has secrets she shall never share or does not want to trust me just yet. However, she is smart.”

“Secrets, it must be then. What else?” He took the cup.

“She has no liking for Semias. She mentioned his name perhaps twice, but the venom was in her words.” She took a long drink. “It seems that your father fell under a fairy.” She stared into the cup as Lachlan inspected her face.

“That bothered you. She has heard of you then. She is smart.” Lachlan stroked his chin.

“I told her to come to me for any of her needs. Perhaps, I can learn more.”

“I do not want you in any danger. If she did kill the laird, she will slip a blade in your back as well, given the chance.” He seemed as if he wanted to touch her, hold her to him to protect her from danger. He stopped himself and Rowen mourned for the moment.

She sat down. “She talked of Jonty.”

“This shall be interesting.” He plopped down in the chair, slumped, and planted his feet flat on the oak floor.

Rowen repeated what Sheena had said. Lachlan interrupted with questions about her tone, the exact word choice, her expression, and even her body language. She had finished her wine, and another glass. She grew tired of repeating the happenings. She glared at Lachlan as he started questioning her again. She wished to rip out his tongue just for a moment of silence. That did not happen and she grew annoyed by her own voice.

Yet, she continued on. This relaxed talk between them was as it had been before her marriage. The feelings rushed through her—that sense that she could breathe deeply and let her guard down. To him she wasn’t a banshee, not here to beguile him. Even with his troubles, Lachlan looked at her with that gleam she hadn’t seen in anyone else. She hadn’t realized how much she hungered to see it. It filled her as if she had eaten a boar by herself and was now satiated to sleep.

“Do you think she could be allying with my dear, sweet cousin?” He rolled the cup between his hands. Lachlan appeared at ease. But then again, he was good at showing the world the carefree side of himself.

“It may be so.”

Lachlan nodded absentmindedly. “Let us fill our bellies. I can smell bread and fish from here. Semias shall be there.”

“He bothers you more than the others.”

The corner of his mouth twitched before a smile spread across his face. “I do not care for this bond he has for me. He knows things I don’t. That gives him power and he will not give it up. I think he plans to use me to acquire more.”

Lachlan led the way from the chamber. The castle folk had gathered before the trestle tables. He stepped onto the dais. As her position dictated, she joined him. The guests stared up at her. Those in the back craned their necks around the others to glimpse her clearly. She was accustomed to the stares. That did not mean she wasn’t annoyed by them. Kenny came to her side. He had yet to realize why she was stared at. He thought it was a part of her life due to her station. She fought to keep him thinking such an innocent thought. Here though, missing his father’s protection, he would discover the stories. She looked longingly at the castle stairs. She ought to have taken her meal up in her chamber.

Lachlan sat and she followed. With him commanding the hall, she did not doubt that he deserved to be called Laird. With him so near, she smelled wool, peat smoke, and his own musky, male scent that made her weak with one whiff. The murmur of conversations whirred through the hall after someone glanced her way.

She watched the man who must be Semias step up and take his seat at Lachlan’s right. On MacKenzie land there was an ancient tree with a wizened face within the trunk formed through the ages. Semias reminded her of it. She never liked the tree and felt the same way toward the man.

She inclined her head when Lachlan presented him to her.

“I am glad you have recovered, Mistress Murray.” He stressed her surname for the benefit of those gathered for the meal.

“Me as well. I am not one to enjoy a sickbed, and I do all I can to avoid it.”

“It is the MacKenzie blood,” Lachlan said. “They cannot abide weakness of any kind.”

“Neither do you, Lachlan. Though I know you enjoy a bed.”

“It depends upon the company.” The wicked gleam twinkled in his honeyed eyes.

“I dinna like bed,” Kenny grumbled. “Ma makes me go, but I wanna play.”

“I like to play and do it in bed as well.”

Rowen dug her nails into his thigh. Kenny scrunched his brows down in concentration.

“How do you play in bed by yourself?”

Lachlan choked at his question. He coughed. His neck strained and his face turned red. Rowen cocked a brow. “Are you well, Laird? Perhaps you should go to bed.”

“You can play with yourself,” Kenny added to be helpful.

Lachlan nodded, having no reply. Rowen gawked. She had never known him not to have a witty retort.

Semias had remained silent. His cloudy eyes shifted with deliberate slowness between Kenny and Lachlan. He took in the color of their hair, its straight texture, the shape of their eyes, the slope of their noses, and even their hands. Rowen saw him brush away the present and shield himself in memories. The hairs on her arms rose from the energy coursing through her. Her fingers twitched. Her foot bounced up and down.
Tap. Tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap.

He shifted his unctuous regard upon her. She met it, not betraying herself through either a lowering of her eyes or a shift of her head. He looked away first.

“Semias, what is this talk of the laird and fairies?”

“The murderess must have told Mistress Murray about that. But aye, that is the talk. Mistress Murray understands such talk with her being called a banshee.”

He expected her to be riled.

“Rowen is more a
glaistig
than a banshee.”

“At least I am part of humanity instead of the fairy race; however, I do not possess a fairy nature at all.”

“Fairies do come to a home at night,” Semias said.

“Further proof, for I arrived here during the day.”

“Though you were wan and gray,” Semais retorted with a falsely humorous tone.

“I rather thought I was fervid and blue.” Rowen pierced the fish and fed Kenny. She gripped her dirk’s edge when she wished to bury its blade to the hilt in Semias’s chest.

Lachlan twisted toward the man standing behind him, guarding him. “Domhnall, go find a seat, some food and drink, and perhaps a lass. You are breathing on my food.”

Domhnall nodded. He stepped off the dais and vanished to the rear of the tables.

“Do you believe in fairies, Semias? Because I do not.”

Semias understood what Lachlan was not saying. “Nay, foolishness I think yet others believe. ’Tis the reason for the talk. The folk are searching to understand. Some worry she may come back.”

“Then it’s your duty to see that they do not think such nonsense now.”

The fierce determination darkened Lachlan’s eyes. She felt a nagging unease rushing through her that she was ready to flee. But was the fear for her or Lachlan?

* * * *

With Kenny abed, Lachlan escorted Rowen to the battlements. Darkness blanketed the earth, and even the snowy white tops of the mountains appeared to have vanished. It seemed as if the world had faded away and stars dotted the sky so one could know heaven from earth. Moonlight danced like melted silver on the river’s surface. The mellow running waters sounded from the right. It was enough to soothe away the day’s burdens. Whereas others curled in their beds, Lachlan waited for the sinister beings to peel away from their shadows and reveal themselves.

Rowen tucked the fur tighter about her shoulders. Her delicate, white hand was stark in the night. Something to grasp when there was nothing else about.

“Speak your mind.”

Rowen flicked her head, sending her pale gold hair away from her face. “I do not like him.”

“Fitting, since he does not like you,” Lachlan said without humor.

“He accuses me of being a fairy. You think it nothing, but I know otherwise. People believe, and that can be used against you, especially with Jonty.”

“I do not take that accusation so lightheartedly. Tell me your reasoning for your dislike.”

“He relishes his power, and I swear he thinks he has an ownership or right to you. As of now, he stands with you, but I do not know whether he will stand with you when all are against you.”

“I know he has no love or loyalty to Jonty.”

“Why do you not ask him to tell you all?”

Lachlan rubbed the back of his neck. He felt icy fingers graze across his skin. The same cold had never dissipated since Semias entered Castle MacLean.

Rowen turned to him. She caught his eye. She said his name, but the wind snatched its plaintive tone away.

He swallowed. “I don’t think I want to know.”

She rested her hand on his forearm. “Your wants do not matter. You are laird. That is the reason you must forget your promise to my son. Send for my brother.”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek. Her inhale hung on her lips.There was much he wanted to say but found that the words failed to form. He kissed her. Her lips were stiff beneath his own. He held her. Slowly, she softened. The tart wine flavor hung on her lips.

He ought to release her, send her to MacKenzie and far from him. With Rowen inside these castle walls, he knew the danger it posed to the clan and him. She was kissing him back and he ceased thinking. His hold lessened, becoming more an embrace of sorts. She placed her hand flat against the center of his chest.
To push him away or for support?
Her mouth parted on a sighing breath. The sweet exhalation swept across his chin. He kissed her thoroughly.

The wind rushed around them. She tucked her luscious body to his. Her lengthy strands curled about them, tying them together. The smacking sound of their lips urged him on. He traced the elegant arch of her back. He cupped her apple shaped arse. Her groan rumbled through him. She snaked her arms around his neck. Her fingers brushed the tender skin of his nape. He felt his muscles roll from her touch. Rowen, only Rowen, had the ability to ease away his worries.

He hadn’t realized how much he hungered to taste her, to have her in his arms. He was laird and there was no reason to stop. But for the people who followed him, he couldn’t. His desire overwhelmed his reasoning.

Rain slashed against him and cooled his desire. He broke the kiss off. Her lips trembled from her shortened breath. She leaned her forehead against his chest. She had to hear the galloping of his heart that wasn’t slowing. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. He brushed his face back and forth. Her hair snagged on his stubble.

Rowen drew away from his embrace. Half her face fell into shadow, hiding part of her loveliness. Much like her face, he knew she had secrets. He’d let her keep them for now. Around him, he heard the stomping of men’s feet, trying to return sensation to their toes as well the rumbling buzz of complaints. The fervid haze of her eyes cleared and the aquamarine hue cooled. She raced away. The hem of her
leine
fluttered about her rapid steps. He went after her, then halted halfway to the stairs.

A southern wall guard passed by him. He listened to the guard’s footsteps fade away. Lachlan set off to his chamber.

He entered his chamber to find Semias standing in the center.

“My laird, I must advise you not to fall under her spell. The Murrays—”

“Her spell? Odd choice of words. You are so concerned for me, and it cannot be because you took a boy to his new home.”

“You are laird and I must help—”

“There is more than just my position. You would not be so assisting to Jonty. Tell me now.”

Semias lowered his head. He seemed to weighing whether to tell him or not. He straightened. “’Tis an embarrassing tale. I knew your mother before and after your birth. She was more than a beauty. I had never met a woman like her. I loved her, even offered to marry her after your arrival and claim you as my own. She denied my request. My love never died. To honor it, I have given it to you.”

“Love has a way of cooling when the object of such emotion is absent.”

Semias gave no reaction. He offered no defense of his emotion. “I pulled your limp body from the water. I slammed my hand across your back until water and vomit came from your mouth.”

The blow of his confession numbed Lachlan. He scraped his hand down his face. His hand shook. He curled his fingers tight into his palm. He hadn’t known someone saved him. When he gathered himself, he crossed to the stand. He poured water into the basin. He stared at it swirl around the bowl. The water had weighed down on him as he fought to grab hold of his mother’s hand so bright above him. She pushed back. His chest burned and against his every desire, he took in a breath. The water had been cold, but still felt like flames through his chest. His mouth opened again and only let more water in. Blackness surrounded him and tightened around him. He struggled harder. His body did not listen to him. His limbs grew heavy, weighing him down. The black consumed him. Then he was on his back and the sky was above him. His mother’s weeping mixed with his hitched, coughing cries.

Lachlan pushed away from the basin. He couldn’t catch his breath. His chest burned along with his throat. The blackness returned. He shook it off.

“You must understand, Laird. She was a desperate woman living in a station she had not been reared to. She was a lady.”

“Do not feel you must soothe me with what you think are her reasons.”

Semias shifted from foot to foot as he was unsure what to do with his hands. He crossed them over his wide chest, then hung them at his side, and then put them behind him. “My laird, there is something I must ask you.”