Page 14

T he grounds of Muir Castle were nothing short of beautiful, with the well-trimmed hedges and the sprigs of holly that climbed the sides of the craggy stone cliffs.

It was a beauty that inspired nothing short of awe and serenity from its viewer. Not for the first time, Mabel thought it absolutely ridiculous that her husband, the master of these lands, was referred to as a beast. If this castle were a beast’s lair, then it was a very bonny one, indeed.

What beast would care about trimmed flowers and having an orderly yard? Even now, she watched him wave at the men training in the yard.

Those men, rough around the edges with varying scars and muscular bodies that bore proof of their dedication to protecting their clan, smiled widely and cheered as they passed. They clearly loved and respected their Laird.

While a beast could surely command respect by strictly relying on his cruelty, love and acceptance could not be earned that way. So, her husband was no beast, because no beast could inspire the feelings he stirred within her with just a look.

She might be a timid lady who struggled to express her thoughts, but she preferred to believe that she was a good judge of character, and so far, she had decided that Laird Muir was the farthest thing from a beast.

Even now, she could feel his eyes tracing her profile.

He had shortened his strides to walk at the same pace she did, and for that, she was grateful.

Unfortunately, that pace allowed him to study her profile.

She worried that her awareness of him and desire might be evident in the flush on her face.

“Ye are verra good with the boys,” he suddenly said, startling her. She turned to face him fully. If he had noted her previous embarrassment, he made no mention of it. “Do ye have much experience caring for bairns? The boys took to ye so easily.”

“I have nay experience of that sort, Me Laird,” she began, turning back to admire the path ahead of them as they made their way towards the loch.

“I might have spent little time with the bairns in person, but I have kenned them all their lives. Their maither, who was a dear friend of mine, had made sure of that. Her letters detailed each stage of the twins’ growth and the absolute delight they were to her and her husband.

I consider them me own bairns, even though I didnae birth them.

I have always longed for the moment when I might see them again.

I never imagined that I would meet them again under such circumstances, with me dear friend and her husband forever lost.”

She swallowed hard in the hope of preventing the tears that filled her eyes from spilling over.

The Laird might have noticed her struggle because his next question was asked in a light-hearted tone.

“A maid friends with a laird’s daughter, eh?” He gave a rueful smile. “I reckon it didnae go down verra well with yer parents.”

“Of course they wouldnae have approved; that is why I made sure they never discovered our relationship. While I would have just gotten scolded, Layla would surely have gotten thrown out, and it would have been quite a tragedy for both of us. Layla was another sister to me. Loyal, she was, and full of ideas. It was beautiful to see.”

“Why so?” he asked softly, his eyes fixed on her.

It was not very often that she met people who were willing to slow down enough to listen to her. His attention, given so freely, encouraged her to tell him everything and anything.

“I have two sisters, and most people dinnae understand it when I say that I never felt like I belonged with them.

I was different, and they were everything that I was nae.

They were prettier than I, more demure and respectable.

I was just the plain sister who was unable to perform as expected socially.

Me parents didnae love me less than me sisters, but it was noticed.

“Layla understood me preference for quiet. She listened and accepted me the way I was. She was the only one who never felt the need to compare me to me bonny sisters. We shared the same interests, and one of me biggest wishes was to always see her happy. In time, I learned about her lover, a gentleman she had met on one of her errands in town. She was happiest when she was with him.”

A sad smile touched her lips, and she paused briefly.

“She radiated such happiness whenever she returned from meeting him that I was sure he was her soulmate and the only one who could make her happier than I ever could.

So I encouraged her to marry him. It was then that she told me the truth—that her lover was a nobleman.

Me spirit sank when I understood the implications; he couldnae marry her without incurring the wrath of the nobility.

I felt powerless, but watching her weep loudly in me arms one night, I decided that while I didnae have a lover of me own, I couldnae allow me friend to lose the love of her life simply because of social norms.

“After much thought, I came up with a plan. I had been saving some of me pin money in the hope of acquiring some rare books from the Continent. I scraped together the money and gave it to them in the hope that it would at least buy them a cottage in the Lowlands, where they could begin their life together.”

The Laird listened thoughtfully as Mabel spoke. She didn’t know whether she had overstepped, but he deserved to know the full truth. Perhaps it would help him understand the boys and bond with them.

So she continued.

“That night, I helped her sneak her belongings out, then borrowed a horse from me faither’s stables. She left that night, happier than I have ever seen her, but nae before I extracted a promise from her to keep in touch and send me letters.”

“Somehow, I dinnae think yer faither took the news of one of his horses missing easy.” The Laird gave her a questioning look.

“All hell broke loose after she left. Me maither wasnae happy to learn that one of the maids left without a word, but she soon got over it. The horse’s disappearance was explained away easily.

Spitfire was always quite a wild horse. I’m actually surprised that she took a liking to me.

I only told me faither that I had forgotten to lock the door to the stables after returning Spitfire to her stall. ”

“Ye are telling me that Aiden rode a wild horse to elope?” the Laird asked, slight alarm lacing his voice. “He could have broken his neck. What was he thinking? And he had a woman with him.”

Mabel laughed lightly at the concern in his voice. She lowered herself onto the sandy bank of the loch, waiting till he plopped down beside her before continuing.

“Dinnae worry, Spitfire liked Aiden as well. Layla usually used me morning rides as cover to meet with him. On so many of those rides, I had allowed them the use of the horse so they could spend time alone together. Spitfire was always so docile whenever she carried them. Perhaps the old girl was an advocate of love herself,” she said with a chuckle.

“So, where is Spitfire?” the Laird asked after a brief pause. “I dinnae remember seeing a horse when I went to pack up me braither’s residence.”

“Spitfire died two years after the twins’ birth. Layla told me in one of her letters,” Mabel replied.

“That explains that, then,” he murmured.

They fell into companionable silence, each consumed with memories of the people so dear to them, who had met their death so tragically early.

“What about ye?” Mabel asked, suddenly turning to him.

“What do ye want to ken?”

“Ye are their uncle. I’m surprised they shrink from ye. I would have thought they would be closer to ye, seeing that ye are the only blood relative they have?” she asked, curiosity knitting her brow.

“I am nae the only blood relative they have. There is one more, even though he would prefer to pretend they dinnae exist. Besides, even if I was their relative, it doesnae mean that I had a close relationship with them,” he said gruffly, looking away and rubbing a palm across his beard.

“How so?” she asked. “Ye are their faither’s only braither, are ye nae?”

“A braither that I am nae sure he kenned about,” he said gruffly.

When Mabel’s brow creased with confusion, he continued.

“The last time I saw Aiden, he was just a little bairn. Me grandfaither came for him. He wanted an heir, and since he couldnae produce one, he decided that he could just take one of his son-in-law’s sons, despite me maither’s protests.

He did this because he kenned Muir was a small clan, unfit to challenge his clan to war. So he took Maither and Aidan and left.

“I grew up with me faither. I swore that I would get Aiden back and better protect me clan.

But things didnae go as planned. Faither died when I was a young man, and soon I was knee deep in wars, fending off the other clans who thought that a young laird equaled a weak one and were trying to conquer our lands.

I tried to get information about me braither, and I was told he had gotten married and was living quite happily with his wife.

“Me guilt for abandoning him for so long didnae allow me to meet him. I made excuses for meself. I didnae want to tarnish his happiness with me presence, as I was the embodiment of the past he was running from. I promised meself that I would see him after the next war and the next. Years passed while I made these excuses, until the day he died without ever meeting me. I lost me chance to be with me braither, to be in the lives of me nephews because of sheer cowardice.”

He stared across the loch, sadness and anger warring on his features.

His pain radiated off him in waves, so potent that she wanted so badly to comfort him.

Before she could think better of it, she rested a hand on the side of his face, the one that bore scars. Evidence of his protective nature and his willingness to lay down his life for those he swore to protect.

He turned his head at her touch, his eyes boring into hers with such intensity that her breath caught in her throat. She was about to withdraw her hand when he leaned into her palm, surprising her.

“Ye have them now, and ye are doing yer best to care for them as one would their own,” she murmured. “It would take time, but they will grow to trust ye. Love ye, even. Ye’re their kin, and the fact that they are here shows that yer braither cared for ye more than ye assumed.”

He fell silent, so she let her thumb run along the edge of the scar she had longed to touch. It was rough underneath her skin, and she longed to ask for the story behind it.

Her eyes flicked up to find him staring at her.

“Me Lady,” he said, cradling her hand gently. “Me scars are quite fearsome, ye ken. Do they nae bother ye?”

For the first time, Mabel noted the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior he presented to the world.

It occurred to her then that beneath the facade of Laird Muir, he was still that young man who had to deal with losing his family several times over, before finally losing them permanently to death.

Somehow, she did not think he had anyone to console him. They thought him tough and strong, but beneath all of that, he was still human—he was still flesh and blood.

Her eyes softened. “They dinnae bother me. They are a testament to the strength of yer character. They are part of what makes ye ye,” she said, stroking his face until he closed his eyes with a sigh.

When he opened them again, they had darkened, roaming over her face until they settled on her lips, heating her skin with desire.

She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she craved it with all her being. So when he leaned forward and took her lips, she let him, opening to let him inside.

As he devoured her mouth and stoked desire in the depths of her belly, she hoped that she could give him some comfort from the demons that plagued him.