Page 22 of The Highlander’s Hunted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #2)

22

W hat are they talkin’ about? Why are they just… standin’ there like they’ve kenned each other forever?

Hector observed Katie through the half-open shutters of the study window. The two women were standing on the edge of the stream that isolated the little island from the rest of the gardens, gazing out toward the pear tree—the guardian of his sister’s resting place.

“They’ve only just met,” he muttered under his breath, covering the sound with the rim of his whiskey glass.

“Hmm?” Duncan said from across the sturdy desk, swirling his own glass of amber liquid. “Did ye say somethin’?”

Hector cleared his throat. “I just said that it looks like it might rain again.”

“Aye, it was bad last night,” Duncan agreed, staring down into his glass.

The conversation wasn’t exactly fluid, making Hector all the more confounded by Katie and Alison’s seemingly immediate closeness. Then again, there were many things that he would never understand about women—being away at war so often had left a lot of gaps in his knowledge, along with his disinterest in learning.

But they make it look so easy…

“Ye had a… reasonable journey?” Hector tried again.

Duncan nodded. “Aye, nae so bad.” He paused. “If I’d kenned we werenae expected, I wouldnae have come. I hope ye understand that.”

“I do.” Hector took another sip of his drink. “I’ll be stringin’ me man-at-arms up by his bollocks for sendin’ that letter without me permission. He’d mentioned havin’ a gatherin’ of sorts, to reassure our clans of our peace, but I suppose he thought to proceed without waitin’ for me say-so.”

A cold smile split Duncan’s face. “Ye dinnae have much luck with yer men-at-arms, do ye?”

“Nay, I suppose nae,” Hector replied, matching the other Laird’s frosty tone. “This one doesnae actually have the position yet. He’s tryin’ to convince me of his merit, and this will either damn him or elevate him. It remains to be seen.”

Duncan shrugged, sitting back in his chair, rolling his shoulders in an obvious attempt to relax. “It wasnae the worst idea.”

“Nay?”

“Me clan is restless,” Duncan explained, echoing Flynn’s sentiments about Clan MacKimmon. “They dinnae believe the peace is real. Us meetin’ this way should be proof enough… so long as me wife and I return alive.”

He mustered a wider smile, knocking back a great gulp of the whiskey.

“It’s unnatural, eh?” he said, pulling a face.

“Ye and me in the same room, nae seein’ who can swing their sword first?” Hector replied, smirking. “Aye, it’s unnatural. I feel like I ought to have someone else taste me whiskey, even though I poured it meself.”

Duncan chuckled, though he flinched for a second as he stared down into the glass he’d practically emptied in one go. When his eyes rose back up, they squinted a question that almost coaxed a laugh from Hector.

“I wouldnae be so cowardly as to poison ye, Laird Marsden,” Hector assured him. “Drink as ye please. The worst ye’ll suffer is a sore head and an upset stomach in the mornin’.”

Duncan sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Nay, I wouldnae either.” He paused, drumming the fingertips of his other hand on the armrest. “Rosie is excited to get to ken ye. Wouldnae cease chatterin’ about it on the journey here. Alison has always wanted to tell her stories of ye, and she has done her best over the years, embellishin’ here and there, but… she thought it’d be best if Rosie heard it all from ye.”

“I dinnae suppose there was mention of a pointless, five-year war?” Hector asked drily, returning his attention to the window.

The two women were now sitting on the grass, tossing a stick for that huge buffoon of a dog. Fortunately, Katie had seated herself so that she was facing his window, and as her face lit up with a giddy smile, he felt an odd twinge in his chest.

I doubt she’ll ever smile for me again.

“There wasnae,” Duncan replied. “It’s nae somethin’ she needs to hear about if it can be helped. All I care about is that she gets to ken ye and that she has a grand time while she’s here. She’s already besotted with that dog.”

Hector turned his attention back to the man, concerned that Duncan might have seen what he was looking at. But it appeared that Duncan had been talking about Pipkin, unaware that the hound was out there in the gardens, entertaining his wife and Katie with his clumsy antics. Indeed, at that very moment, the dog had overshot the women, tumbling bodily into the stream.

“The wee lassie, too,” Duncan continued, oblivious. “I cannae recall her name.”

“Bonnie,” Hector filled in.

Duncan nodded, a fonder smile on his face. “Aye, her. Rosie adores her.” He paused. “But I’m nae just here for Rosie, Hector.”

It appeared they were dropping the formalities far earlier than Hector had expected, and, already, he was not certain he liked the direction the conversation was about to take.

“What other reason could ye have?” he asked bluntly.

Duncan sighed, leaning forward to retrieve the decanter of whiskey and pour himself a fresh measure. Not exactly a sign of good things to come if he needed to bolster his courage first.

He sipped, swallowed, and took a deep breath. “To reassure our clans, it cannae end with us,” he said stiffly. “There’s nay true peace until there’s absolute peace, and though we might nae be fightin’ each other, we both ken what things are like in our corner of Scotland.”

“There’s nary been a year for at least a century without someone fightin’ someone,” Hector said with a nod, distracted by movement in his periphery, ears pricked to the heartening sound of Katie’s laughter.

“Exactly.” Duncan raked a hand through his hair, resting his leg on his opposite knee. “As such, I think we ought to extend the peace treaty to Laird MacLiddell and Laird MacGunn.”

Hector nearly snorted into his whiskey. “ I have nay trouble with Gerald and Marcus, Duncan. Their clans havenae skirmished or attacked me lands since their grandfaithers were at the helm.”

“Aye, but if we’re to be allies—neutral, at the very least—then we ought to come to an agreement. All of us. That’s the only way there’ll be actual peace in this part of the country. Ye ken it as well as I do.” Duncan huffed out a breath. “For the clans. For the people. For the lasses who keep losin’ their lads to these endless fights, and for the lads themselves.”

A bubble of laughter drew Hector’s focus away, startled to find that Katie was in the stream with Pipkin. She splashed water at him, and his jowly mouth snapped happily to try and catch the droplets, prancing and leaping like a puppy.

Meanwhile, the water soaked Katie’s already ruined dress, the muted red fabric clinging to her like a second skin. He stared at the divine shape of her, memories returning like blossoms on the wind, swirling in his mind to seed renewed desire. Not that he’d ever lost a single spark of it for her.

She was in me arms, and I cast her out of them. I kissed those curves, touched that soft skin, heard her call out me name… and instead of pleasurin’ her again, I bloody told her to get dressed.

He burned with regret, the feeling tingeing his words with anger as he said, “Does that mean that Laird Kincaid and Laird MacDonnell will stop bein’ a threat to me too? Or is this yer way of bandin’ together to strike at me as one while me guard is down?”

Duncan’s sudden laughter yanked Hector’s focus away from the glorious sight of Katie enjoying herself in the stream and washing clean the events of last night and that morning.

“Ye find that funny?” Hector said crisply.

Duncan waved a hand. “Nae the ridiculous notion of us attackin’ ye together.” He pointed to the window. “Ye’re nae subtle, Hector. Ye’ve been starin’ out the window since we came into this room, and I surely hope it’s nae me wife ye’re admirin’.”

“I’m makin’ sure the dog doesnae bite anyone,” Hector replied, an edge to his voice.

But Duncan continued to grin. “The dog that me daughter has been climbin’ all over, that doesnae bat an eye? The dog that hid under the table for half an hour after it accidentally trod on me wife’s gown? The dog that started waggin’ his tail when he realized me wife is with child? That dog?”

Evidently, he had been paying more attention to what was going on outside the window than Hector had realized. With one shutter half-closed, he’d assumed that Duncan wouldn’t be able to see anything from his position in the opposite chair.

“The cavortin’ isnae seemly.” Hector tried a different tactic. “She’s here as a guest of me grandmaither—she ought to behave accordingly, nae like a village lass with nay decorum or manners.”

He wouldn’t admit to anyone, least of his former enemy, that he liked her rougher edges. Ladies who’d been raised in castles and courts were either mute with shyness or self-conceited, but Katie was just… herself, and it was an endearing self—fierce when she needed to be, quick-witted and sharp as a blade, and so very seductive without meaning to be. As if she was entirely unaware of the effect she could have on a man.

“If ye keep bein’ like that, ye’ll chase her away,” Duncan warned in a tone that suggested he knew that predicament all too well.

“Maybe that’s exactly what she likes,” Hector whispered to himself as he closed the shutters on her.