Page 3 of A Two-Faced Laird (A Highland Ruse of Love #1)

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W hen Lewis came back from the meeting, he was tired, and there was a throbbing pain behind his eyes. He swallowed some willow bark tea, which was his least favourite beverage, bathed and dressed in what he hoped were suitable clothes. His thoughts were mutinous; he would have much preferred his food sent up to his chamber where he could sit with a tray on his lap and his feet stretched out beside the fire, but there was no helping it. This was a special day, and he had to do his duty by his family, even if it was the very last thing in the world he wanted.

He barely gave himself a glance in the mirror as he clattered down the main staircase and strode into the dining room, then flopped into a chair. He sat in his usual place beside his father and heard his stomach rumbling as he smelled the fragrance of freshly cooked pheasant. His mouth was watering; he was absolutely ravenous, and waiting was making him not only hungrier, but more and more irritable by the second.

Lewis poured himself a glass of weak ale. He always drank moderately, especially on an empty stomach, since he had seen the unfortunate effect strong liquor had on some people. The door of the room swung open, and he looked up, thinking it was about bloody time . Then he stopped thinking altogether.

His eyes met the smokey grey-violet gaze of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and for a split second, he felt puzzled. They were expecting Edina, were they not? But this shapely, stunning creature could not be her—could it? Edina was a mischievous little girl who had only just lost her milk teeth. Where had the years gone?

Almost without thinking, he moved around the table and bowed, then pulled out a chair for her, ignoring the servant whose place it was to do so, then watched her as she sat down. They exchanged a few conventional words of greeting, and every moment after that he wanted to feast his eyes on her as she conversed animatedly with all the members of his family.

From time to time, Edina would look up, and their gazes locked, but he could find nothing to say. Then, at his father’s urging, he addressed a few words to her and cringed at the way he sounded; sullen and cold.

As they left, Lewis pulled Edina’s chair out for her again, and she looked up at him with a troubled expression.

“Have I said something to offend you?” she asked.

“No.” He was taken aback and hastened to reassure her. “I have had a hard day, I am tired, and I was starving. Sometimes it makes me irritable. Forgive me.”

Edina smiled. “You are a human being,” she said warmly. “And we are not perfect. Lewis, you have changed so much. I had visions of the boy I left, with no whiskers and a high voice, and now look at you; every inch a man.”

She looked him up and down, but instead of making him feel embarrassed, her lingering gaze was having a very different effect.

He felt himself stiffen, and was glad that he was wearing his kilt and not his breeches as he felt her eyes travel from his toes to the top of his head, lingering on his mouth.

“You have changed too,” he remarked.

Involuntarily, his gaze drifted to the round swell of her breasts. Her dress was modest, but nothing could mask Edina’s seductive curves. With the swan-like column of her neck and her waist-length river of tawny-gold hair, she was perfect.

“I remember a tiny little girl who played with a doll she carried almost everywhere.”

“She is in my bedroom as we speak,” Edina told him. “We are hardly ever apart, me and Jennie. Now, since we are both exhausted, I will bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Edina,” he said gently, then watched her walking away.

She swayed sensually as she moved, and he could hardly believe how wantonly he was reacting to her. She was very far from the first woman he had ever lusted after; there had been many, and many times he had acted on that lust, but this was Edina, his childhood playmate, the closest thing he had to a little sister. It seemed all wrong, somehow.

When Lewis lay down to sleep that evening, it was with a feeling of restless discomfort. He tossed and turned for a long time, but all he could think about was Edina. He kept contrasting the girl she had been, the one who loved to jump out of bushes and trip him up, with the woman she had become. She had stirred his bodily desires so much that he knew he would not be able to sleep.

He kept thinking of her lips, and how it would feel like to kiss them. Just imagining it caused him more enjoyment than he had for months. She would be living inside the castle from now on; how was he going to stay away from her? He shook his head, feeling goose pimples on his arms. No, he shouldn’t think like that of her.

Now that his mind had been settled, he tried to turn over and go to sleep. On the day after the rents were collected he had two long, free days to himself, and he intended to enjoy them. Perhaps he would go fishing, or gather ripe horse chestnuts from the heavy boughs of the trees that were scattered around the estate, or perhaps he could simply have a lazy day in bed.

Alone, unfortunately, because there was no way he could sneak a willing young woman into the castle to be with him. The only one that had captured his mind was Edina anyway, and that was impossible, but this time he firmly put her out of his mind, and in a few moments, sleep overcame him.

Edina, too, was feeling restless; instead of the deep and instant slumber she had expected, she found herself gazing at the ceiling by the light of a fading fire. She could not seem to shake Lewis out of her mind; he simply refused to go anywhere.

As well as her mind, he seemed to have taken possession of her body too. She had no experience of being with a man, but her mother had lovingly explained to her what would happen on her wedding night, so she was not wholly unprepared.

Yet what were these pleasurable, fluttering pulses that she felt in her stomach when she thought of Lewis? What was this restlessness, and was it even normal? Usually, she could tell her mother everything, but how could she explain her obvious arousal when she thought of Lewis? Every time her mother saw them in the same room, she would know what her daughter was thinking and feeling, and Edina would die of embarrassment.

She rose from bed and went to the window to look out. It was a moonless night, and she could see very little, only the shape of an occasional rooftop. Autumn had arrived, and the days were beginning to shorten considerably, although the trees wore their colourful red and gold coats in the daylight, they were invisible at that moment. The land around the castle was an unbroken pool of darkness.

She turned away and climbed back into bed, snuggling under the sheets again. She wished a warm, strong man had his arms around her.

Lewis opened his eyes, yawned and stretched before he rose from bed and padded across to the window. The weather was clear, although the sky was hazy, and there was a fresh breeze that was blowing the fiery autumn leaves from the trees and scattering them in piles and sheets across the ground.

He loved autumn, its only drawback being that the trees did not keep their bright red and gold coats long enough before they shed them to stand naked and unprotected in the unforgiving winds of winter. In his mind, Lewis had always likened it to the difference between an oil painting and a charcoal drawing.

Now, he shook his mind free of its wanderings as his manservant came in to help him to dress. Mick had only been with him for the last two years, but he could practically read his master’s mind, and now he sensed an unease about him.

“Lovely young lass that Miss Edina,” he remarked as he smoothed down the front of Lewis’s kilt. “I hear she used tae be your friend when ye were bairns.”

“A long time ago.” Lewis’s voice was flat and dismissive.

He cast a glance into the mirror and left, leaving Mick to stare after him, shaking his head. He would never understand his young master.

When Lewis went into the dining room, the only person there was Edina, who looked up and smiled at him as he bowed to her.

“Can you stop doing that, please?” she asked. “We have known each other since we were knee-high, for heaven’s sake!”

Lewis made no answer, but sat down, nodding in agreement. He was glad when the door opened to admit Edina’s mother and father, who took their places on either side of her.

“How did you sleep, Pet?” her father asked.

“Like a log,” she replied. “Such comfortable beds you have here, Lewis!”

Lewis smiled faintly.

The food came then, along with Laird and Lady Findlay.

“Did you know Lewis is off today, Edina?” she asked. “Perhaps he can show you the village.”

Lewis kept his eyes on his plate, but had to look up when his father kicked him under the table, then made a face at him. He raised his eyes to meet Edina’s, then tried to make his voice as casual as he could.

“There is not much to see there, I am afraid,” he told her. “It has not changed much since you were last here.”

For this, he received a murderous look from his mother.

“Rubbish,” she said, smiling sweetly at Edina. “Our wee church is the loveliest for miles around. Do you remember it, Edina?”

She and the Laird exchanged loving glances.

“Would you like to see the village again, Edina?” Lewis asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Yes, I would,” she answered. “While the weather is fair.”

Edina smiled at Lewis, but all she received in return was a slight nod.

They rode down to Achnabreck, which was only a quarter of a mile away, in silence. Occasionally, Edina tried to break it by pointing out something that caught her eye, or asking Lewis a question about the countryside around them, but all she received were monosyllabic answers, and at last she gave up.

The village was much as she remembered it. A few of the oldest buildings had been demolished and replaced with newer ones or refurbished, one of them being the alehouse and inn, which was called the Fatted Calf.

“I remember my father telling me what a wicked place that was,” Edina told Lewis. “Strange, but now that I see it again, it seems so small and not threatening at all.” She turned to him and smiled. “Would you like to come inside with me and take a glass of ale?”

“There is plenty of good ale back at the castle,” he replied tersely. “But you may go by yourself if you wish.”

“I am not going in there alone,” Edina told him, somewhat annoyed. “Are you afraid?”

He sighed and ran his hand backwards through his hair.

“I had a bad experience there which I would rather not discuss. I can stand at the door.”

At once, Edina felt contrite. “I can see it bothers you. No harm done,” she said gently, walking away.

He watched her as she did so, her hips swaying as she moved, and he felt a leap of desire as he hardened in response to the sight. This was torture.

A little girl of perhaps six years old bumped into Edina, who bent over to speak to her.

“Hello there, what is your name?” she asked.

“Maggie,” the little lass said, so quietly that Edina could hardly hear her. “And yours, Mistress?”

“Edina,” she replied. “Maggie is a lovely name.”

She looked around her to see that a crowd of children, none of them over about eight years old, was gathering, so she stayed to identify them all and became engaged in their innocent chatter. Edina discovered that quite a few of them came from the local orphanage, which had not existed the last time she was there. That made her wonder why so many children had lost their parents, but it inspired another notion. She had always wanted to do good in the community, and thought she had just seen a way to do that.

As she left the children, she saw a baker’s shop further down the street, and turned to smile at Lewis, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Do you remember the day that Aidan went in there pretending to have a sore leg? He was hoping the baker would give him some bread.”

Lewis grinned broadly. It was the first time Edina had seen him do so since she had come back, and she was mesmerised; he looked like a different person.

“I remember the baker’s dog chasing him out.” He laughed at the recollection. “He was terrified, but everybody knew that wee tyke would never bite anyone—maybe lick them to death.”

“Now I need a treat!” Edina said, clapping her hands as she set off across the street.

She came back a moment later with two scones spread thickly with honey and held one out to him. He felt nauseous as he looked at the sickly goo dripping from the cake, and turned his head away to avoid looking at it.

“Do you not want it?” Edina’s face was a picture of disappointment. “You used to love these!”

“I was a child then,” he told her. “My tastes have changed.”

“I cannot let these go to waste.”

Lewis again watched her walk across the street, then she urged the street children into the baker’s shop. A moment later, they began to emerge, each one carrying a scone dripping with honey. Now everyone was happy—the baker, because of the profit he had made, the children, because of their treats, and Edina herself because she had given pleasure to so many people.

In fact, she smiled contentedly at everyone she met, and seemed genuinely pleased to see all of them. In turn, they greeted her with great enthusiasm too, and after a few hours they had met just about everyone in the village.

Lewis was surprised to feel his stomach curl with jealousy when everyone admired her, especially some of the young men of her own age, whose open desire shone in their eyes. He glared at them fiercely, but was laughed at for his pains.

“Leave them.” Edina laughed. “They probably do that to all the girls.”

Further down the street, they passed by a group of old housewives chatting in the street, and one of them waved to Lewis.

“Master Aidan, nice tae see ye back,” she said, with a gap-toothed smile.

“I am Lewis, goodwife,” he called back, before they moved on.

Edina looked at him quizzically.

“It happens all the time,” he told her. “Take no notice. It will likely happen again.”

“Do you get any word from him?”

“I think we had better go back now,” Lewis said grimly. “It looks as though it might rain.”

She was surprised when Lewis abruptly changed the subject. She was not expecting such odd behaviour from him.

Edina looked up at the hazy white sky, searching for any grim grey clouds, but there was not a sign of one anywhere. There was no indication that rain was going to fall, but she decided not to argue, since he obviously had his reasons for wanting to return home.

They rode back to the castle very slowly, and in complete silence. It had been a very strange afternoon, Edina reflected. When she had thought about returning to Achnabreck her memories had been those of two little boys. Of course, her logical mind told her that they were both grown men, but she had expected bright personalities like the ones she had left. Now, one brother was gone, and the other had turned into the sullen, moody creature beside her. What had gone wrong?