Page 25 of Taken by the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #2)

Three days. For three days, Jude had seen almost nothing of Valerie, and it was beginning to drive him mad.

She ate her meals in her rooms or in the gallery, where she worked on making clothes and curtains.

On the rare occasions that he did see her, she barely spoke to him, nothing more than a quick “fair morn” or “good evening.” Their encounters were so brief that he might have thought them dreams, had it not been for the other signs of her presence in the castle.

New clothes were delivered to his room every evening, left on his bed for him to inspect and try on.

New kilts, trews, and shirts appeared, neatly folded and laid side-by-side.

Some of it was made in a casual design, clearly meant for days when all he intended to do was pore over reports and listen to Craig and Moira.

Other kilts were made with more elegant fabrics, cut in more formal designs, or stitched with the more formal tartan patterns and colors. They were clearly designed for council meetings or special events.

There were even some shirts and kilts, as well as trews, made with sturdier fabrics to withstand hard riding, or training, or even pitched battle.

Soft leathers and heavy linens that fit well enough to give him maximum room to move, and some protection from both attacks and the weather, while still being comfortable.

It was more than the clothes, however, that drew his attention to Valerie’s presence in his home, even as he felt her absence in more personal aspects of his life. There were also the curtains.

It started in the Great Hall. Jude entered the morning after his discussion with Valerie to find the whole hall looking brighter than it had in seasons.

He stood there, blinking for several moments before he realized the difference. Instead of the heavy, dark velvet and linen drapes that had covered every window, there were medium-weight linens, partially pulled back to let in a little bit of light.

The colors of the drapes were still somewhat dark, but not the near-black of the previous ones. It was like witnessing the first morning of spring after a long, bleak winter. Jude actually found himself taking a deeper breath.

I’d never realized how stifling the other curtains were. How did I never realize that?

Craig joined him a moment later. “Interesting. Did ye ken the lass was plannin’ this?”

“I thought it was ye who coaxed her into it,” Jude growled as he went to sit at the table.

Craig followed and sat beside him. “’Tis a lovely betrothal gift, I suppose, since she didnae come here with anything else.” He met Jude’s glower with a grin and a shrug.

“Ye ken the betrothal isnae real,” Jude snarled, trying to ignore the clenching in his heart and his gut. “’Twas just a spur of the moment statement she made—nothing will come of it.”

“And why nae?” Craig raised an eyebrow. “Ye ken the lass has feelings for ye, and ‘tis plain ye have feelings for her too. If she’s willing to have ye, and ye want her…”

“Shut yer mouth, afore I give ye a clout on the jaw so ye cannae speak.” Jude’s hand clenched around the edge of the table so hard that the wood cracked. “Ye ken well enough why it cannae happen. Why nothing will come of this. So stop tryin’ to meddle. Ye and Moira… leave well enough alone.”

Craig grimaced, but he had the good sense not to press the matter further, and Jude tried to put the conversation out of his mind. Unfortunately, that was easier thought than done, especially with the curtains.

From the Great Hall, a profusion of new curtains appeared in parlors, meeting rooms, and even the council chamber. New curtains appeared in strategic places in the halls, and the whole castle began to take on a brighter appearance and a lighter feel.

The mood visibly lifted around the halls, and even Jude found himself affected by the change.

On the third morning, he entered his study to find Craig examining soft blue curtains hemmed with MacFinn tartan. The curtains were made of a lightweight linen that was soft as silk, the colors and the weight both a vibrant change from the heavy black curtains he’d had in there before.

He stopped and stared. “I thought I told her I didnae need new curtains in here.”

Craig grinned. “Well, the lass said she’d be replacin’ them, whether ye agreed or nae. I’m sure Moira can find the old ones if ye’re that attached to them, after our little seamstress leaves.”

Jude opened his mouth to say that he’d changed his mind, then stopped, the words frozen as he registered the words Craig had spoken. “What do ye mean, when she leaves?”

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Ye said she’d stay for seven to ten days, as a trial period. Since ye’ve given her nay other reason to stay, and ye refuse to accept her declaration, she’s decided to honor yer command—she’s scheduled to leave tomorrow.”

Jude swallowed hard at the reminder of his previous words, then went to his cabinet and took out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a generous measure and downed a third of it, letting the burn sear away the ache in his throat.

Craig watched him. “Are ye really plannin’ to let her go, My Laird? Ye dinnae seem so inclined, if ye dinnae mind my sayin’ so.”

Jude grunted and downed another third of his drink. “Ye ken I cannae keep her here. I have nay say in whether she stays or goes.”

“Ye ken that’s nae true.” Craig stepped closer. “I ken I’m overstepping, My Laird, but ye have a choice—ye always do. Do ye want to lose her in the end because ye didnae make the effort to convince her to stay?”

Jude’s hand tightened around the glass until it cracked in warning and his knuckles turned white with the strain. Craig’s eyes flickered to the glass, and Jude set it down before it shattered and sprayed whiskey all over the desk and the floor.

“Go.” He motioned for his second-in-command to leave the study, then settled into his chair, his thoughts racing.

His failure to protect Kendra still burned in his mind and heart. The loss of his sister ate at him, and the thought that he might lose someone else precious to him made him feel sick, the way he’d felt before his first battle… and after his first kill.

But if he looked at the situation logically, he would lose Valerie in any case. Yes, he might lose her to bandits, to raiders, to an attack from any one of his many enemies, if he dared let her past his walls and fully into his life and his heart.

But if he did not, he would lose her to Nathan Cullen, or to whoever and wherever she chose to flee next to escape him.

“Do ye want to lose her in the end because ye didnae make the effort to convince her to stay?”

Craig’s words echoed in his mind, the bitter truth of them so evident that a blind man might see it.

I dinnae want to lose her to Laird MacOlley. I dinnae want to lose her at all. But there’s nay way to be sure I can prevent that. Life is far too uncertain, and I cannae stand to promise her my protection when I cannae be sure of delivering it.

But if there is a middle ground… if I can offer her a haven, and a reason to stay longer until she finds someone else or somethin’ that makes her truly happy… Or perhaps she might simply stay as my seamstress. Does there need to be aught else?

Jude took a deep breath. It had to be an arrangement that preserved his honor, Valerie’s safety, but also her independence… and one that he could live with.

He finished his drink, then rose and left the study.

Once in his chambers, he searched through the kilts and shirts Valerie had left for him until he found the finest of them—the ones meant for special events.

He laid them out, then went to the small basin on his side table, positioning it carefully below the small circular mirror on his wall.

Then, for the first time in months, he pulled out the small, slim knife he used for shaving. He lathered soap into his beard, then carefully lifted the blade to the side of his jaw and drew it downward.

The razor-sharp blade slid across the side of his cheek and jaw with almost no resistance, and a swathe of beard fell to the table in front of him. Jude repeated the motion, his movements slow and careful as he followed the lines of his face and throat. First the right side, then the left.

A quarter of an hour later, he shook the blade into the basin and assessed the result in the mirror.

For the first time in over a year, his shaved and beardless face gazed back at him.

The lack of hair made his face look thinner, sharper, and years younger, despite the lines of grief and loss that still etched his brow and bracketed his mouth.

The difference was… unsettling, reminding him of the man he had been not so long ago.

Still, like the new curtains, it felt lighter… and it felt necessary. Right, as if the man in the mirror was the man he was always meant to be.

Jude went and dressed in his new clothes, then brushed his hair, smoothed his sash, and went to find his wayward seamstress.

The knock on the door startled Valerie from where she was stitching the fabric for the new curtains that would find their way into Jude’s bedroom—or so she hoped. They were elegant and beautiful, the correct length and color, and adorned with the clan’s crest.

She regretted that she’d not be the one to hang them, but she knew she had to leave. The bedroom curtains were the last pieces she needed to finish. After she’d completed the stitching, her work would officially be done.

Despite everything Moira has to say on the matter.

Valerie sighed. The maid had made her feelings on the betrothal, and Valerie’s claims that it was only a ruse, quite plain.

“Och, just a ruse, lass? Have ye nae seen the way the Laird looks at ye?” Moira huffed. “And the way ye look at him when ye’re near him… Och, if that’s a ruse, then I’ll eat a meat pie raw.”

“It doesnae matter what he feels or what I do, Moira. It doesnae mean the betrothal is real or that anything can come of it. That declaration was made on the spur of the moment—and a foolish one at that.” Valerie shook her head. “Please, leave it alone.”

“As ye will, lass. But dinnae forget what I said.” Moira gave her a knowing smile and went about her business, but the conversation lingered in Valerie’s thoughts.

The knock came again—sharp, hard and impatient—dragging her from her recollection.

With a sigh, Valerie set down the fabric and went to open the door.

She was expecting Moira or Craig. She wasn’t expecting to find Jude in full formal dress, his face clean-shaven and his eyes dark with emotion. Nor was she expecting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Is yer dress finished?”

It took her a moment to remember the blue-green silk he’d bought for her. She had begun to shape it into a dress, but it hadn’t been a priority for her, not with all the other work she had to do.

“I’ve begun it, but?—”

“Finish it. I expect to see ye wearing it tonight, when ye join me in the Great Hall.”

Her anger flared, a hot, bright spark in the center of her chest. “Ye cannae ignore me for days and then come here and demand I attend ye, as if I were some sort of puppet. I dinnae belong to ye, as yer servant or anythin’ else.”

Jude’s jaw clenched, and he stepped closer, his movement smooth and almost predatory, though there was no sense of menace behind it.

“I told ye, lass—for as long as ye’re under my roof, serving as my seamstress, ye belong to me and ye serve at my desire.

And it is my desire that ye join me in the Great Hall this evenin’, wearing yer new dress. ”

She was tempted to refuse, but something in his eyes stayed her words. She looked back at the table she had been working at, her eyes landing on the blue-green silk. The design she’d begun was a simple one—it wouldn’t take more than a few hours to finish.

“As ye will.”

“Then I’ll see ye in the Great Hall in time for supper.” Jude bowed to her and then stepped back, and the door gently clicked shut.

Valerie stared after him, bemused by his behavior. Then, she turned back to her work table and set the curtains aside, pulling out the fabric for her dress.

She had no idea what Jude was planning, but it was clear he was making an effort—his clothes and the time he’d taken to shave his tangled beard spoke to that. She would feel ungrateful, perhaps even cruel, if she didn’t match his effort with her own.

He looks so handsome, more like the portrait in the gallery. I’ve never cared much for lookin’ like the part of a pretty lady, but seein’ Jude clean-shaven and dressed like that… I would like to match him, at least for tonight.

She was also curious, she had to admit. The look in Jude’s eyes, the warmth and desire on his face…

She wanted to know what he intended and what he had planned, especially given the care he had taken with his appearance before arriving at the gallery.

He looked and acted almost like a completely different person. I cannae help but want to see more of that man. Besides, I have been wanting to make and wear that dress since he bought me the fabric.

Valerie smiled a little to herself, then bent her head and began to work.

For the first time since she walked into this castle—or maybe the second, if she counted their more… intimate encounters—she would obey the Laird.