Page 8 of A Sinful Night with a Scot (Bound by a Highland Curse: The Morgan’s Clan Stories #8)

CHAPTER EIGHT

“ H aving fun?” Alisdair smirked when Keane returned to the gathered men, with Elspeth following a little way behind.

Keane tried to hold in his smirk, but failed. “Why nae?” He shrugged. “It’s nae like I’ve had much o’ it o’ late.”

“I thought ye wanted her tae hate ye?” Alisdair murmured smugly.

“Ye dinnae think if I had thrown her intae the river that she would?”

Elspeth was only a few feet away now, and as Alisdair mounted his horse, he smirked. “Ye would never have gone through with it.”

O’ course, I wouldnae. The woman would freeze tae death before we reached the next village.

Elspeth approached her mare, and, turning toward her, he took her gently by the waist and lifted her onto the beast. Their eyes met again, and catching her soft smile, he suddenly felt something squeeze him inside.

Alisdair was right. He did want her to hate him, and yet, there was something about her that brought something out of him. A feeling of wanting to be around her, to impress her. Dare he say it, for her to like him.

Ye’re playing with fire.

Yes, he was. The day before, he had planned to kill her. Now, he wondered what those soft lips would feel like against his own. She was getting under his skin, and she wasn’t even trying. Shaking his head to try and free himself from his intrusive thoughts, he turned away and moved to his own horse.

I cannae dae this. She’s a useful asset only.

Isnae that how her faither sees her? And, didnae that anger ye earlier?

He had told Alisdair that he didn’t have a conscience, but clearly, it was alive and well, and now determined to torture him. And yes, he did see her father as a fiend, but how was he any better? Certainly, he wasn’t her father, or even blood related, but surely, his actions were as dreadful, if not worse.

I’m doing this fer me own faither, he reminded himself. Tae avenge his slaughter by the hand of an evil man.

But even that thought did not bring him the satisfaction it ought to. Before the previous day, he had been determined in his mission, fortified that what must occur was necessary. Now, however, small slivers of doubt snaked into his mind, and as they continued on their journey, he began to question his own righteous indignation.

Two hours later, they reached Dirnoch, the village just before Keane’s castle.

“We’ll stop here a while,” he announced to the group. “There are things I want tae check on.”

They brought their horses to a halt, and dismounted, the men stretching themselves after the day’s journey.

Keane approached Elspeth’s horse and lifted her down.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“This is Dirnoch,” Keane answered. “Another two miles in that direction,” he pointed through the village, “is the castle. Yer new home.”

Elspeth nodded; her expression difficult to read. She neither looked angry, nor excited, nor disappointed. Maybe she didn’t know what she felt, and under the circumstances, he supposed he couldn’t blame her. She opened her mouth and was about to ask him something else, when a few of the villagers approached excitedly.

“’Tis the laird,” one of them declared.

“Och, me laird,” a woman gushed. “It is so good tae see ye.”

“Are ye well, Mrs. Campbell?” Keane asked, smiling down at her.

“I am,” she said with a broad grin. “And so is Daniel, thanks tae ye. The potion worked wonders. I cannae thank ye enough fer sending the castle healer tae him.”

Keane smiled warmly, remembering her young son and how ill he had been over the last few months. “I’m only glad he’s better.”

“Och, he’s more than well,” she said. “Look.”

Turning from him, she called to a small child behind her, who ran to his mother. Keane recognized the boy, and immediately saw the difference in him. The last time he had laid eyes on him, the child had been bedridden, white as a sheet, and could hardly breathe. Whatever Farlan, the old man who had been the castle healer for decades, had given the boy, it had clearly worked wonders.

“This is the laird,” Mrs. Campbell said. “Ye must offer him yer thanks, fer it was his good will that made ye well.”

“Thank ye,” the dark-haired boy said quietly, his expression a mixture of reverence, gratitude and fear.

Keane rubbed his small head with his large hand and nodded with a smile. “Ye’re very welcome, son.”

A crowd had now gathered, with many smiling and happy faces, all clearly glad to see him. There were cries of gratitude for one thing and another, things Keane had done for them to help them out. These were his people, and he would always be there for them, as his father had been before him.

Alisdair was soon by his side, and murmuring low enough for the villagers not to hear, he said, “Dae ye nae think ye should introduce yer bride?”

Keane turned to look at Elspeth who remained standing several feet away. She was smiling and gazing at him with a strange expression, part surprise, part pleasure. It then occurred to him that she had heard the villager’s expressions of delight.

She’s probably wondering how ye are such a hero tae them after being so cruel tae her. And, she has a point.

Maybe she did, but this was neither the time nor the place to address it. If he was to introduce her to the villagers, he could hardly tell them he had snatched her from a chapel and forced her to marry him. No. Right now, he had to pretend to be madly in love with her in front of all these people.

Pinning on a smile, he held out his hand to her. Elspeth looked even more surprised, but glancing around and seeing that she was being observed by all those around them, she walked towards him and took his hand.

“Come here, me darling,” he declared dramatically, eliciting a wide-eyed gaze from her. He then pulled her close to his side.

“I would like tae introduce me bride,” Keane professed, his eyes never leaving hers. “The new lady o’ the castle, Lady Elspeth Mackay.”

A great cheer went up from the villagers, with whooping and clapping in delight, as Keane pulled her in even closer, wrapping his arm tightly around her slender waist.

“She is indeed, a bonnie lass, is she nae?” he said, exaggerating his tone a little too much.

“She is beautiful, me laird,” a voice called out from the crowd.

“She is indeed,” another added.

“We are very much in love, are we nae, me darling?” he cooed, smiling down at her and delighting in her beaming red cheeks.

Elspeth was trying hard to hold her composure. It was clear she was determined to remain aloof, but she failed badly, and as her lips broke into an embarrassed smile, she struggled not to laugh.

Whether it was nerves, or the fact that he was acting ridiculously, Keane could not know. Nor did he really care in that moment, for her reaction to his arm around her waist and him pulling her in closely to him was highly amusing.

There was something else swirling within him, however. Something he tried to fight, to push down, to deny. He did not want to accept what he was feeling, but while he fought against it, his heart seemed to be fighting back, and he had no choice but to admit that he was far more interested in Elspeth that he ought to be.

Glancing to his left, he noticed Alisdair standing off to one side, gazing at Keane knowingly. His best friend knew him better than anyone, and clearly, by his expression, he seemed both amused, and at the same time, rather satisfied with what he saw. Alisdair had called him out earlier, and now, he smugly watched on from afar, likely knowing that this was not entirely an act.

Elsie was a little caught up in the moment, and with the laird’s arm wrapped tightly around her, she really did not know if she ought to laugh or cry. It was one thing, being forced into a marriage and travelling with a group of men who knew the situation. It was entirely another, standing in front of a crowd of kindly villagers who evidently held their laird up on a pedestal.

She had been completely bewildered earlier, listening to their praises and gratitude. While she had seen glimpses of his attentiveness, for the most part, she had experienced him as a brute. Clearly, that was not how his people saw him at all. Nor was it a delusion. She had witnessed the grateful thankfulness of a mother who loved her son dearly with her own eyes, and she certainly wasn’t the only one.

And yet, she struggled to reconcile the man they worshipped with the man she had experienced. He was a paradox, like night and day. If he was such a great laird, why had he been so wickedly cruel to her? It didn’t make sense. And, if she put her bias aside, it was clear those in the village had seen the real Laird Mackay. If that was the case, who had she experienced, and why?

“Thank ye all fer yer kind congratulations, but now, I must see tae another matter,” Keane said.

The villagers nodded, and slowly dispersed back to their homes and whatever it was the people had been doing before their group had arrived.

Keane then waved Alisdair over, and turning to her, he said, “Elsie, I need ye tae stay with Alisdair until I return.”

Elsie’s heart jumped as she gasped and gawked at him for a long second.

“What?” he frowned.

“Ye called me Elsie,” she said, feeling utter astonishment.

Perhaps he was not the cruel brute she imagined he might be. Maybe, the pressure of this whole situation, avenging his father’s death, had brought out the worst part of him, and now they were nearly at the castle, she was going to see the real man he was.

But then he smirked down at her. “Me mistake, Elspeth.”

Elsie’s face dropped as quickly as her hopes and heart, but Keane either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, for he turned to Alisdair who now joined them.

“Stay with Elspeth,” he instructed. “I am away tae speak tae Jonathan Barnes.”

“As ye wish,” Alisdair replied.

Keane then turned on his heels and headed down the main track of the village with a determined stride, leaving Elsie feeling even worse than she had before.

“Ye’re trying tae decide if ye like him or hate him,” Alisdair said beside her.

“I certainly dinnae like him,” Elsie spat, as though the very idea of such a thing was ridiculous.

“Aye, but ye cannae hate him either, can ye, lass?”

The man smiled at her knowingly, but Elsie turned her gaze away for fear he might see something she was battling within herself. On each occasion the laird did something that surprised or impressed her, he nearly always, immediately afterward, ruined it by being a complete arse.

“We’ll be heading tae the castle soon,” Alisdair said. “It might be better fer ye.”

“In what way?” Elsie frowned.

Alisdair shrugged. “Well, ye’ll have a chance tae get used tae the life there. Some stability rather than being on the road with a bunch o’ men.”

“In prison,” she balked.

Alisdair frowned then. “Ye’ll nae be kept in the dungeons, me lady.”

Elsie snarled, baring her teeth. “Nae. I will just be kept against me will in a castle where I dinnae belong.”

He nodded then, and with a sad smile he said, “I’m afraid that’s yer lot now. And though it wasnae yer choice, ye’re now Lady Mackay. Ye saw the delight o’ the villagers, Elsie. The castle is now yer home and where ye dae belong.”

And whether she wanted it to be true or not, she knew the man beside her spoke the truth. Her new life would begin once they arrived, and as usual, there was not a thing she could do about it.