The Highlander's Choice (11 page)

“That is very nice. I imagine a lot of these older castles could do with some modern improvements.”

“Ach, ye won’t be finding modern improvements here, lass.” His mum stabbed a piece of meat on her plate as if the animal still needed killing. Faith, the woman was trying his patience. She might have come to the table, but she was certainly not ready to treat Sybil as a proper hostess would.

“We are slowly improving things. Dividing the rooms up and insulating the stone walls with wood was the first part. I also plan to add a separate room for bathing.” Liam glared at his mum, daring her to dispute him. She shrugged her shoulders and continued to eat.

“Do ye have sisters and brothers?” Alanna asked.

“Yes, I certainly do. My brother is the Duke of Manchester—”

His mum snorted, but acted as if she hadn’t.

“—and I have four sisters. My twin sister, Sarah, then there’s Marion and Abigail who are both married, and my youngest sister, Mary.”

“You are a twin?” Catriona looked at her as if she just announced her plans to climb to the battlements and jump off.

“Yes, I am.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Is it fun?”

Sybil frowned. “Sometimes it can be fun, sometimes it is not. I mean, I love my sister dearly, and cannot imagine not having her in my life, but there are times it is nice to be just myself, and not one of a pair.”

“Saints! Two of ye?” mum mumbled, but loud enough to be heard. Maggie MacBride, seated at the nearest table, chuckled, then ducked her head when Liam sent her a piercing glance.

“Does Sarah look like ye?” Alanna wanted to know.

“Exactly,” she laughed. “We are identical twins. Unless we wear different clothing or hairstyles, even my mother has a hard time telling us apart.”

“Did you ever play a trick on someone?” Catriona’s expression had Liam believing his youngest sister was wishing for a twin of her own.

“Um, actually, we did.”

“What?”

“Well when we were about thirteen years, my sister, Sarah, was enamored of a young man and wanted very much to know how he felt about her. When she met him in the village bookstore one day, she pretended to be me so she could ask him what he thought of Sarah—er, her, actually.”

“And what did he say?” Alanna seemed as curious as her sister.

“He told her Sarah was a lovely little girl and would be a fine woman one day when she grew up.” Sybil grinned. “Sarah was crushed.”

“Sneaky Sassenach,” his mum uttered, this time low enough that, thankfully, only he heard her.

After dinner, the family and Sybil retired to the drawing room where Catriona continued to plague the lass with questions. Eventually, Sybil gave him a look that could only mean she was fatigued and ready to retire, but dinna want to be rude.

“Lass, it appears ye are a tad worn out, and I’m sure my sister’s blathering hasn’t helped.” He stood and extended his arm. “Allow me to escort you to yer bedchamber.”

The relief on her face had him feeling guilty for not suggesting it earlier. “Yes, please.” She addressed Catriona, Alanna, and his mum. “Good night. This has been very pleasant.”

His mum snorted and kept her head down as she worked on her sewing.

Once they arrived at her door, he spun her around so her back rested against the portal and leaned his forearms on the frame above her head. “Ach, lass, I thought I’d never get ye alone.”

She gave him one of her slight smiles, her lips parting as if waiting for his kiss, wet and plump, and his for the taking. He cupped her cheeks and brought his mouth to hers. His kiss was slow and thoughtful, exploring the nectar of her lips. When she gave a slight moan and slid her hands around his waist to stroke the muscles of his back he lost the control he’d been hanging onto for two days.

He nudged her lips open and swept in like a wave on the ocean. He explored the soft, sensitive parts of her mouth, the taste of her spurring him to smother her lips with demanding mastery. She pressed her body against his, and his cock leapt to life. He raised his mouth from hers and kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat.

Sybil’s breaths came in pants, her breasts heaving, the turgid nipples nudging him through her gown against his shirt. He pulled away, matching her breath for breath. “If we dinna stop now, ’twill be impossible for me to let ye go.”

She looked up at him with glazed, half shuttered eyes. He groaned and took her in another possessive kiss, sliding his hands up her ribs, brushing her nipples lightly with his thumbs.

The sound of footsteps pierced the fog of desire raging through him. He pulled back and unlatched her door, easing her body through. “Good night, darlin’.” He gave her a brief kiss on her forehead and closed the door.

Turning, he saw Bessie approaching, garments folded over her arm. “Is my lady retiring for the evening, laird?”

“Yes. I believe she needs your services.”

“Good night.”

“Tae ye as well, Bessie.”

Adjusting his breeches to accommodate the swelling, he strode down the hallway to his bedchamber. ’Twould be some time before he’d get to sleep this eve.

Chapter Eleven

Sybil rolled over once again and groaned at the pain in her back. The sun was up, and cracks in the old shutters on the window allowed enough light to fill the room so that she could see the space. Someone had, indeed, come up and cleaned the room yesterday, though the smell hadn’t quite left yet, so despite the cold, she’d left a window open while she’d slept.

They must have given her a mattress stuffed with straw. It was stiff, hard, and crinkled every time she moved. The thin blanket added to her muscle pain since she’d had to stay curled up all night to create warmth.

She eased her sore body up and glanced longingly at the cold fireplace. Apparently, no maid was going to arrive to start a fire. She climbed out of bed, biting her lips against the pain in her body and the cold floor on her bare feet. When she’d stayed with Margaret at Dundas, she’d never noticed the cold in the morning. Yet it was further into summer now than it had been a few weeks ago when she’d arrived.

Bessie entered the room. “Oh my goodness, my lady. Has no fire been started?”

“No. I’m beginning to have suspicions about what is going on, but for now I will keep it to myself.” Liam’s mum was anything but welcoming. Some of her remarks last night hadn’t made it to her ears, but she had guessed, from Liam’s expression, that they were not flattering. The ones she had heard had both amused and annoyed her. It was obvious the “shock” Catriona said her mother felt at Liam inviting a
Sassenach
to his home was a bit stronger than mere dismay.

“Bessie, please go to the kitchen and fix some chocolate for me. That should warm me up. And while you are there, please see about having someone lay a fire for us.”

“Yes, milady.”

Since the room had no armoire, Sybil’s clothes remained in the trunk she’d brought with her. She dug through the trunk until she found a thick robe and wrapped herself in it. She hurried to the window and opened it wider, hoping the sun might help warm the room.

As she turned from the window, the streaming sunlight showed only a cursory cleaning had been done. The floor had been swept of animal droppings, and water had been placed in the pitcher, but barely enough to wash her hands and face. She moved to the bed and pulled up the sheet. Yes—straw.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was obvious Lady MacBride had no liking for her, most likely because she was English. Liam’s sisters, while reserved at first, had soon warmed up, and she had felt comfortable with them by the end of the night. And the kiss she’d shared with Liam in front of her door should have kept her warm all night.

For now she would keep her thoughts to herself. Lady MacBride was a schemer, but she’d picked the wrong person to cross swords with. Sybil was no English princess, and scrapping with her sisters and brother over the years had hardened her. Despite being a duke’s household, their childhood had been anything but pampered.

Her mother had romped with her children, had taken them on picnics, and had organized games for them with the village urchins. Sybil had fallen from a tree, had her eye blackened, and had been thrown from her horse numerous times before she’d learned how to ride—straddling the animal and in breeches.

Yes, if Lady MacBride thought to scare her off by making things difficult, she was ready for the challenge. The more time she spent with Liam, the more she’d come to believe he might very well be the man she had been waiting for. If that proved to be the case, Lady MacBride had just met her match.

“Milady, you won’t believe this!” Bessie bustled into the room, her face a mask of disapproval.

“What is it?”

“The cook informed me there was no chocolate—in a castle this size! Lady MacBride met me coming from the kitchen and said breakfast was served in the dining room, and guests were not to be coddled. Her exact words were ‘if ye mistress is wanting to fill her belly, she’ll need to do it like the rest of us. At the table’.”

Sybil threw her head back and laughed. Indeed, the battle had begun.

Washed as best she could and dressed in a warm frock, Sybil descended the stairs and peeked into several rooms until she found the dining room. Apparently, everyone had already broken their fast because the room was empty. No food sat on the sideboard, and no pots of coffee or tea on the table.

Just as she was pondering what to do, a young maid entered the room. “Oh, pray pardon miss. Can I help ye?”

“Yes. I was looking for breakfast here in the dining room.”

The girl looked a bit startled but then said, “Yes, miss. I’ll have Mrs. MacDougal do something up for ye.”

Confused by the girl’s reaction, she attributed it to her arriving for breakfast after everyone else. She pulled out a chair and sat, gazing around the pleasant room. Two lengthy windows brought in sunshine, making the room much warmer than her bedchamber. The walls had been covered with wainscoting and a soft wallpaper with rows of small flowers.

After a lengthy wait, the maid returned, and quickly laid items in front of Sybil, then made a quick curtsy before scurrying from the room.

Sybil looked down at burnt toast and eggs that proved to be cold to the touch. The teapot was cold as well. She shrugged and took a bite of the toast. If she was going to do battle with Liam’s mother, she needed her strength.

After eating she decided to investigate some of the rooms. Maybe she would find Liam and see if she could entice him to go on a picnic or ride. What surprised her during her quest to find Liam was how quiet the castle was. Most likely the girls were at their lessons, but Dundas had always had clan members roaming about, and a lot of loud and friendly conversation. She shivered at the somberness of Bedlay.

“There you are.” Sybil opened a door to find Liam sitting behind a very large desk in what appeared to be a library. He grinned when he saw her and placed the pen in his hand on a holder in front of him.

“Well, lass. I see yer finally up and about. We missed ye at breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you all ate so early. The dining room was empty when I arrived.”

“The dining room?”

“Yes. Where I went for breakfast.”

“Ach, lass. I thought Mrs. MacDougal would tell yer lady’s maid when she went for your chocolate this morning. We always have breakfast in the morning room. I thought ye just needed some extra rest, or I would have sent one of my sisters to fetch ye.”

“Chocolate?”

“Aye. I had someone send it from the village for ye. I ken how much ye like it first thing in the morning.”

Breakfast in the morning room. Chocolate in the kitchen that Cook was unaware of? Not bloody likely. Her temper rose, but she tamped it down. Getting mad and making a scene was most likely what the dreadful woman wanted. A way to show Liam that she was a princess. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screeching. “I will certainly tell Bessie about the chocolate so I can have it tomorrow.”

Liam rose and took her by the hand and led her to a comfortable settee near the fire. “I have some duties each day, but I want to spend as much time with ye as I can. I thought mayhap a picnic today?”

Sybil brightened. “Yes. I intended to suggest that myself.”

He fingered the curls that had escaped her topknot, bringing goose bumps to her skin. “While I finish up what I need to do, why don’t ye go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. MacDougal to prepare a basket for us? ’Twill be a good thing for ye to get to know my people.”

If she was going to ask for a basket, it would be best to stand there and watch exactly what the woman put in there. After this morning’s debacle, she looked forward to meeting the cook.

“I will do that. Just direct me to the kitchen.”

After following Liam’s directions, she walked into a large, airy, well-lit kitchen. The aromas coming from the room had greeted her before she’d arrived. A stout red-faced woman stirred a pot over the fire, then turned when one of the young girls in the kitchen said, “Can I help ye with something, miss?”

If possible, the cook’s face grew a deeper red. Her eyes darted from Sybil to the floor, all Sybil needed to know. Apparently it had not been the cook’s idea to sabotage her breakfast.

“Yes. Your laird would like a picnic basket packed.” She smiled sweetly at the cook. “For two.”

The woman raised her chin and said, “’Twill be a pleasure to pack a basket for ye, miss. Since ’tis for the laird, I will make sure all his favorites are in there.”

“Thank you.” Sybil turned to leave, then stopped when the cook said, “And what can I pack for ye?”

She waved her hand. “Whatever you pack for the laird will be fine for me.” She fixed her with a piercing look. “Despite what you might have been told, I am not difficult to please.”

“Ach, miss, ’tis sorry I am for the mix-up at breakfast this morn. I dinna understand how ye was given the wrong information.”

“Indeed? That is all behind us now. But since I am quite hungry, perhaps you can put a little extra food in the basket?” She winked and gave the cook a bright smile which the woman responded to with one of her own.

“Aye, miss. I’ll make sure yer well fed.”

Feeling as though she’d trumped Lady MacBride and turned a potential enemy into, if not a friend, at least an ally, mayhap she wouldn’t starve during her visit. The thought brought her up short. She wasn’t here merely for a visit, but to decide if she wanted to accept Liam’s proposal. She’d been so busy since she’d arrived trying to survive sleeping and eating that she’d lost sight of her task. Did she want to be wife to Laird Liam MacBride? Was he the true love she’d been waiting for? The familiar flutters started up in her stomach once again when she thought of him.

…

Despite the cool air, the sun warmed them as Liam led the way on Cadeym through the wooded area to his favorite picnic spot. Sybil rode behind him on the narrow path, once again in her breeches. ’Twas too bad his mum hadn’t seen them leave. The sight of the lass might have helped to convince her that Sybil was naught an English princess.

Since they’d naught been able to ride side-by-side for most of the journey, the trip had been quiet, giving him a chance to think about how he intended to win his lady over. And win her over he would.

The sky brightened as they left the heavy woods and entered a clearing. A green meadow bursting with small flowers greeted them, with a brook running through it. Scots pine, silver birch, and heather grew in abundance alongside the brook. The entire area offered a sense of magic. One expected to see wood sprites dashing about.

“Oh, Liam, this is beautiful,” Sybil said, drawing her horse next to his.

“Aye. One of my favorite spots. Many times after my da died and I was confused and frightened about leading the clan, I would come here just to think.” He turned to her. “I’ve never brought anyone else here.”

She inhaled deeply and looked her fill of the splendor he’d always loved. “Thank you for sharing it with me. There aren’t words to describe how lovely this spot is.”

He swung his leg over the horse and jumped down. His feet hitting the ground crushed some of the flowers, releasing their fragrance into the air. Reaching up, he wrapped his hands around Sybil’s waist and lifted her. She rested her hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes as he lowered her. Before he even let her feet touch the ground, he had taken her lips in a searing kiss.

Ach, he wanted the lass. He’d bedded enough wenches in his day, but never had he wanted one this way. Besides the throbbing between his legs when she was near, he also wanted to hold her through the night, wake up alongside her for the rest of his life. His heart burst at the thought of seeing her wee body swollen with his bairn.

He pulled away, loving the flush to her cheeks and her glassy eyes. The lass was as affected by his kiss as he was. “We had better unpack our luncheon before that growl in your stomach gets worse.”

She tilted her lips in a slight smile, lips swollen from his kiss. He unbuckled the basket holding their food, then handed her a blanket. He gripped her hand, and they strolled the area, looking for the perfect place to stop. Crushed flowers under their feet gave the area a dizzying, fragrant aroma.

“Let’s go by the brook. I have an urge to wade in the cool water.”

“Ach, lass. You’ll find it more than cool. Even in summer the waters here in the Highlands never warm up.”

“You know, when we were children my mother often took all six of us on picnics. The girls would tie up their skirts and splash in the water. Many times my mother would join us.” She laughed as they spread the blanket and took the food out of the basket. “For a duchess, my mother was quite, um, shall we say, different?”

“I thought all duchesses were proper ladies who spent all their time taking tea and planning for the next ball.”

Sybil slipped her shoes off, then rolled up the bottom of her breeches, causing his mouth to dry up as he watched her slim calves emerge. He tightened his fists to keep from reaching out to run his palms over the smooth skin.

Apparently oblivious to what her actions were doing to his blood flow, she continued, “No, not my mother. She played with us, read to us, taught the girls how to sew.” She stopped her movements, one stocking dangling from her fingers. “Mother was the daughter of a third son, so her life as a child was not one of luxury. When her father died, he left his wife and only child in terrible straights. She told us if she and Papa had not married, despite his family’s objections, she would have spent her whole life as a companion to a string of irascible old ladies.”

She swung the stocking to and fro as she spoke, leaving him unable to follow the conversation. Dry mouthed, he nodded and unwrapped cold meats, cheese, fresh bread and a jar of ale. Sybil drew her legs up, resting her chin on her knees. He held out a piece of bread to her, which she took and chewed. “What was your childhood like?”

Liam swallowed a sip of ale. “I was sixteen years when Alanna was born, so I had my mum and da’s full attention for years. I think the only people who were more surprised than me when she, and then Catriona, were born, were my parents. Da was verra happy to have two lasses.