Page 25 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

“Look what the nice lady gave to me, Master,” she said, lifting the blooms to her nose. “They smell like popcorn.”

G race returned to the guest chamber so she could wash and change while Farlan went to deal with setting up for some repair work.

From the way he had described the binding ceremony it sounded like Christmas crossed with dozens of weddings, over which the laird would preside.

All she had to do was refuse any mortal male who offered to be her husband, and then state before them and the clan that she had become the seneschal’s lover.

“Just like that, right out in the open,” she murmured as she walked inside her room, and stopped as she saw a big wooden tub filled with steaming water. When she went over to test the temperature, she saw the surface dappled with pink and white flower petals. “Oh, Elspeth, you are the best.”

The head chambermaid laughed as she stood up in front of the hearth, in which she’d built a new fire. “My thanks, my lady.”

Grace smiled at her. “You’re also very good at hiding.”

“’Tis the art of my station, to make ourselves unnoticed.” She nodded at the tub. “I added some blooms and a measure of the strange spice stick Seneschal favors.”

She knew instantly what she meant. “Cinnamon.”

“Aye, ’tis the one.” The girl grimaced. “’Twas a gift for the laird from an eastern trader who brought it from a faraway land. Seneschal likes the stuff so much he empties the wee sack every morning and grinds the sticks to add to his brew and porridge. Then the enchantment refills the sack.”

“You don’t care for it,” Grace guessed.

Elspeth wrinkled her nose. “I dinnae. The spice burns my tongue, and the scent ever makes me sneeze.”

She noticed a long swath of pale fabric draped across the bed, and went over to have a look at it.

The gown had been made from silk that had been dyed a rosy peach color that she usually avoided wearing.

The rule for blondes like her was to keep away from hot colors, but this fabric had a luscious pink undertone to it that reminded her of a shy blush—or how her skin looked just after making love with Farlan.

When she held the gown up to her front, the silk clung to her body as if she were already wearing it.

“This is lovely.” She glanced at the maid. “Where did you find it?”

“Lady Liv gave the gown to me, and said ’twould suit you.” Elspeth came to stare at her. “Aye, ’tis glorious, as if ’twas made for you alone. Every maid in the stronghold shall turn green when they set eyes on you, my lady.”

Grace thought of the nasty looks she’d gotten from several of the clan’s female vassals. “Maybe I should wear something a little less eye-catching.”

“Let them envy you, my lady,” the chambermaid said. “You’re a rare beauty, and shouldnae hide yourself, for they ken how you look no matter your dress.”

“I never wanted to look like this.” It seemed ridiculous to admit that, but she’d always wished she could blend in better. “Other women dislike me for it.”

“We’re as we’re born,” Elspeth told her.

“When first I came to the clan and saw none like me I wished to change myself, for the other maids disliked me. I even soaked each night for a moon in a tub of goat’s milk, for one of the other maids claimed ’twould make my skin lighter.

’Twas but a trick, and made me smell sour for weeks. ”

Grace had witnessed some malicious behavior, but that really seemed vicious. “Those evil bitches.”

“Aye, only now I’m in charge of them. The three who had me soak in milk? They must ever clean the privies.” Elspeth winked, bobbed and left.

“I wouldn’t have been such a good sport.” She placed the gown back on the bed and started undressing.

Competition among models in New York ranged from constant to vicious.

At one of her first runway shows Grace had gone to have her hair done and narrowly avoided a bottle of skin oil that another model had knocked off her stylist’s tray.

Instead of dousing Grace’s outfit the oil had splattered the designer, who had been following her.

Word got around about the craven attack, and that had been the last time that girl had walked a runway for anyone.

You think you’re so hot, a redheaded model had said, scoffing at Grace for refusing to dye her hair to match hers after a meet with an advertising team. Blondes are a dime a dozen in this business.

She had simply smiled back. Natural blondes aren’t.

The temptation to soak in the hot water lost to Grace’s curiosity about how the gown would fit, and so she finished bathing and dried off quickly.

The chambermaid had also left her some medieval-style lingerie made of fine, thin linen, which proved to be much more comfortable than her modern bra and panties.

The gown had to be laced up the back, she discovered after pulling it on, which proved to be nearly impossible for her to manage.

Just as she was ready to go in search of help she heard someone knock.

Grace held the sagging bodice against her chest as she went to open the door. “Elspeth, I’m glad—oh.”

Farlan’s gaze dropped and then swiftly returned to her face. “I reckoned I’d escort you.” He swallowed like a man who had just been given a dose of caustic medicine. “I shall fetch a maid.”

“Will you.” She couldn’t move, aware that just by looking back at him her nipples had beaded tightly, and she was practically drenched between her thighs.

He wanted her. She could see that in every taut line of muscle bunching in his arms and chest; she could smell his desire as it darkened his lovely cinnamon apple scent.

It came over her like the strange chilliness had, only now it was just her.

Her skin seemed to glow with heat, in fact, and the scent of soap and her own skin grew pervasive.

She wanted him and she could have him, and nothing in her life had given her such satisfaction.

“We mustnae,” Farlan told her. “The ceremony. ’Tis less than an hour before now.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come to my room,” Grace told him as she grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him inside. “You should have waited for me downstairs.”

“I couldnae, my lady,” he said, and then fell silent as she pushed him against the wall. His body went rigid as she pressed against him. “We cannae do such.”

“We can still go to the ceremony later.” She stood on her toes to nip his bottom lip, and rubbed her breasts and belly against him. “Such has to come first, don’t you think?”

Farlan’s arms came up around her, and his hands bunched in her damp hair as he kissed her back, all his hunger pouring into her.

That made her go a little crazy, her hands curling into his tunic until the fabric began to tear.

She could hear herself whimpering against his mouth and she didn’t care how helpless that made her seem.

He was destroying her, and in another moment she’d probably end up in a puddle around his boots.

“I just had you but a handful of hours past, and yet I want you again,” Farlan muttered after ending the soul-wrecking kiss and drawing back to look into her eyes. “How do you give me all and more, and still I starve for you?”

It will never be enough for either of us. Grace didn’t care if that was the truth. She wanted him more than anything else in both worlds.

When he lifted her off her feet she wanted to wrap her legs around him, but the long skirt hampered that, and then someone else knocked on the door.

“My lady?” Elspeth called from the passage. “Shall I lace your gown?”

Farlan closed his eyes for a moment, and then set her on her feet before he gave her a look that she knew would haunt her for the rest of the day.

“Tonight, you’re mine,” he told her, sounding almost angry. “Dinnae imagine you may escape me. Or expect you’ll sleep a moment.”

The possessiveness she heard in that growled warning thrilled her so much her knees nearly buckled. “I’ll tell her to go.”

“Then we shall both miss the ceremony, and the morning meal, and Gods only ken how many others. If we dinnae take care, my Grace, I fear we shall kill each other in bed.” He released her and opened the door. “Aid my lady, Elspeth.”

“Aye, Seneschal.” The little chambermaid curtseyed to him as he stalked out, and then regarded her. “Forgive me, my lady. Did I interrupt?”

“Not really.” She smoothed the rumpled front of her gown to hide her burning face and control her quickened breathing.

Grace turned her back on the maid, and tried to compose herself.

How could Farlan do this to her and then walk away?

She was going to have to get even with him.

Now that they were going official in front of everyone she would be able to move into his room, sleep every night in his bed, and do exactly what she wanted to him whenever they were alone.

He was hers and she was his, and nothing would tear them apart.

That would be more than enough to make up for everything she’d gone without, everything she’d given up trying to make her mother happy.

Are you sure about that, Gracie? Do you want the man, really want him, or are you just taking him as a lover so you can use him to replace Tonje?

All of her tingling excitement turned to cold ash.

Despite the aggressive way she’d behaved with the seneschal she had always been subservient.

Her mother had trained her to devote herself entirely to her needs and wants.

She was enslaving herself to Farlan now, not for the sex but for the attention.

She’d gone to New York and modeled only for Tonje, hoping the money she’d sent home would buy her some crumbs of her affection.

Wasn’t she doing the same thing with sex and Farlan?

Dinnae act the eejit, lass.

Grace flinched as echoes of that snapping voice filled her head. “I’m sorry, Elspeth, what did you say?”

“Naught, my lady.” The chambermaid came around and looked over her gown, smoothing it here and there before grinning at her. “You look like a queen, Mistress Johansen.” She curtseyed deeply.