Page 12 of The Laird’s Wicked Game (Highland Scandal #2)

A STIFF brEEZE pushed at Kylie as she climbed the last scree-covered slope to the top of Dùn da Ghaoithe. She could see why it had been named so—it certainly was exposed up here.

It had been quite a climb to reach the top, although the exertion was a welcome distraction after witnessing the violent flogging. The atmosphere within the broch had been tense when they’d ridden out, and it was a relief to depart for a short while.

Breathing hard, she stopped then, pushing away a strand of hair that had come free of her braid, and surveyed the panorama that stretched around her. She could see for miles in every direction from up here. To the east, the bulk of the mainland shadowed the sky, while to the southeast, she made out the proud outline of Duart Castle. Swiveling around, she surveyed the wood-clad landscape farther north before casting her attention southwest to where the isle’s largest mountain, the mighty Ben Mòr, reared up. Her skin prickled then .

What a beautiful isle this was. To think this was her home now.

“What do ye think?”

Tearing her gaze from the view, Kylie focused on Maclean. The laird had stepped next to her, while his sons clambered over rock below them. Dùn da Ghaoithe was a high, rocky ridge with deep corries on either side. Both Lyle and Ailean were excited to finally visit it. Intrigued by the lads’ squeals, Maclean’s collie joined them. Storm’s tail wagged as he sniffed at clumps of heather before he lifted his leg upon a boulder.

“Well, it was definitely worth the effort,” she replied, lowering her gaze.

Silence swelled between them before he cleared his throat. “Is something amiss, Lady Grant?”

“No,” she said quickly, glancing up once more. Maclean was watching her closely, his green eyes shadowed now. “I’m sorry ye had to see that earlier,” he said, lowering his voice. Four of his men had joined them on their trip up to the top of the nearby mountain, but they were both standing far enough away to give the two of them some privacy.

Kylie swallowed. “Then why did ye insist I did?” She paused then, her brow furrowing. “Surely, yer sons could have been spared?”

The laird sighed before raking a hand through his short hair, leaving it in spiky disarray. “Ailean will rule Dounarwyse one day … and Lyle is likely to step into Jack’s role eventually. Shielding them from what it means to be chieftain or a captain of Dounarwyse will only make the reality of it all the harsher.” He grimaced then. “In truth, I must take some blame for what happened. If I’d gotten rid of MacDougall a month ago … yer sister would never have been attacked. ”

The roughness to his voice made Kylie’s chest constrict. She didn’t want him to take responsibility for MacDougall’s actions. Indeed, he was the sort of man to shoulder such blame. “Ye weren’t to know where things would lead,” she answered with a shake of her head.

Their gazes met and held.

“Has yer opinion of me lowered then … after witnessing me flog MacDougall?” he asked quietly.

Kylie’s breathing caught. She was surprised her opinion mattered. “Of course not.”

“Ye aren’t afraid of me now, are ye?”

Her chest constricted. What a contradiction this man was. He was as strong as an oak, yet there was also vulnerability to him. “No,” she replied softly.

And she wasn’t.

Their stare drew out until the laird severed it. He swung his attention east, his jaw tightening as if he was waging an internal battle. However, when he spoke once more, his tone was subdued. “How is Lady Makenna faring?”

Kylie swallowed a sigh. Her sister had begged off joining them on this trip, saying she wished to rest instead. “It’s hard to tell,” she admitted. “At present, whenever I ask how she is, she brushes me off.”

“She’s proud.”

Kylie’s pulse quickened. Aren’t we all? “Aye, and tough too … but this has shaken her. I know my sister well enough to see it.”

An excited squeal intruded then, and her gaze traveled to where Lyle had found a shiny piece of quartz and was showing his brother. Their eagerness made her smile .

“I’m relieved my sons seem to have rallied after seeing MacDougall flogged,” Maclean admitted.

Kylie gave a soft snort. “Aye, well, fortunately, bairns live very much in the moment.” She paused then before calling down to the lads. “Choose a few stones, and we shall study them at home.”

The boys flashed her a grin at this before they started to fill their pockets.

“Ye are good with them,” the laird noted.

“Am I?” Warmth filtered through her at his compliment. “I have no bairns of my own … so must confess I was nervous about how they’d react to me.”

He gave a soft snort. “I didn’t make building a rapport with them any easier, did I?”

“No … but Ailean and Lyle are starting to trust me now. I’d say the worst is over. They’re both good lads.”

“They are.” Something in his voice made her glance his way. He was watching his sons with a shadowed gaze. “Do they remind ye of yer wife?” she asked gently.

He tensed at this question, and she immediately regretted being so bold. Her nosiness was getting the better of her. She was about to apologize when he replied, “Lyle more than Ailean. He has her looks.” He gave a rueful shake of his head then. “Their characters are Maclean through and through though.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Both fiery, pigheaded, and stubborn … no different to Jack and me at the same age.”

Kylie smiled. “So, ye too were full of mischief once? ”

A laugh rumbled up from his chest, and it warmed Kylie to hear it. The laird of Dounarwyse showed far too little mirth. “I was. If there was a prank to be made … or a trick to be played … I was likely at the center of it.”

She observed him with interest. It was hard to reconcile the serious man he’d become with the light-hearted lad he’d once been. Suddenly, she was curious to know more about the events that had shaped Rae Maclean. However, now wasn’t the time or place for such conversations. She was relieved though that they’d spoken frankly about other matters. She didn’t want there to be awkwardness between them.

“Would ye have supper with me in my solar, this eve?” he asked then, taking her by surprise.

Kylie stiffened. The last time they’d been alone in his solar, he’d kissed her. All the same, a while had passed since then, and they’d patched things up. He’d put the incident behind him and was clearly trying to mend things between them. She should let him. And so, after a moment, she nodded. “Very well.”

Rae’s mood gradually lightened on the way home. He’d needed to get away from Dounarwyse for a few hours, to put this morning behind him. When he’d ridden out of the broch earlier, he’d been tense, his blood still boiling after dealing with Tormod MacDougall. The knave’s parting words to Makenna had made him long to string the whoreson up by his neck from the walls. But since the flogging had already upset many of the broch’s residents, he didn’t wish to traumatize them further .

Even so, it was only when they’d reached the top of the mountain ridge that the anger finally drained from Rae. Guilt had needled him then. Maybe his decision to force everyone in the broch to watch MacDougall’s punishment had been a little harsh. His sons were still wee, after all.

Ye need to be softer with them . Aye, and he would be. Ailean and Lyle would leave childhood behind soon enough. From now on, he’d let his sons enjoy their innocence and freedom while they had it.

Ailean rode double with him now, his arms wrapped around his father’s waist, while Lyle traveled perched in front of one of the laird’s men. Kylie followed close behind on her sure-footed garron as they picked their way down the mountain slopes. As soon as they reached the foothills, they quickened their pace to a brisk canter. Storm bounded next to Rae’s courser, a streak of white, grey, and black against the swathes of heather surrounding them.

It had been a good day out, an overdue adventure for his sons. The lads had been pestering him to take them to the top of Dùn da Ghaoithe for a while, but he’d kept putting the trip off.

Dounarwyse lay just a few furlongs distant now—and for the first time in a long while, Rae felt almost at peace with himself and the world.

Indeed, he’d felt so at ease with Kylie earlier, as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, looking out over the spectacular views, that he’d invited her to supper.

Was that wise?

Probably not. His invitation had been impulsive, and he’d marked her hesitation. He’d then braced himself for her refusal and inwardly chided himself for feeling relieved when she’d accepted. The truth was, he liked talking to Kylie and didn’t want to spend yet another evening with only his thoughts for company.

It’s just a meal between a laird and the woman who tutors his bairns , he told himself firmly. Where’s the harm in that?

By the time they clattered into Dounarwyse’s barmkin, the broch’s stone gilded by the early evening light, supper was approaching. Both lads were exhausted after the day’s adventures, and Rae carried Lyle upstairs to his bedchamber, with Ailean at his heel.

Esme was waiting with a hot bath for the lads.

Usually, Rae would have left the maid to her task then, but something made him linger this evening. Was it guilt? He’d been such a grumpy bastard with Ailean and Lyle of late. He intended to remedy that.

To everyone’s surprise, he sent Esme away to fetch the bairns’ suppers and set about bathing his sons himself. Kylie would be joining him shortly for supper in his solar, but in the meantime, it pleased him to see the lads splashing around in the large iron tub together. He wanted them to relax in his company, as they once had.

Ailean grumbled good-naturedly while Rae washed his hair, although Lyle wailed when his father accidentally got soap in his eyes. Ailean then called his wee brother a ‘mewling babe’, and Rae had to pull them apart as they started scrapping.

These two were just like him and Jack at the same age. As the elder, Rae had often teased his wee brother—behavior that usually ended in a fight .

A few stern words reminded both lads of their manners, although Storm, excited by the noise the bairns were making, nosed his way in then, licking Ailean and Lyle’s faces until they squealed. Muttering, Rae pushed the collie aside. However, thinking this was a new game, Storm barked, reared up on his hindlegs, and raced at him.

The collision nearly sent Rae headfirst into the tub.

“Storm wants to play!” Lyle laughed.

“Does he?” Entering the chaotic spirit of the evening, Rae shoved the dog playfully away. “Off with ye then!” His sons giggled as, once again, Storm backed up, gave a feisty bark, and then barreled into him.

By the time Esme returned with their suppers—two bowls of leek and haddock stew with fresh oaten bread—father and sons were all laughing while Storm bounced around them, his barks echoing through the bedchamber.

The lass murmured an oath under her breath as she surveyed the scene. “That was a ruckus indeed, Maclean,” Esme observed. “I could hear ye from the kitchen.”

Grinning, Rae rose to his feet and ordered Storm to go and sit by the bed. “Aye, sorry about that.” He then nodded to his sons. “Come on, lads … let’s get ye dried and dressed.”

It was a mild evening, and so the hearth was unlit. Even so, Ailean and Lyle perched on stools before it, while Rae sat cross-legged on the sheepskin nearby, watching them eat. After the day’s adventures, both boys were ravenous.

And as Rae observed them, his throat tightened. He’d missed out on much of late. He’d let loneliness and bitterness, and his worries about the security of Dounarwyse, blinker him. But the truth was his sons mattered as much to him as his responsibilities as laird. He couldn’t let them think otherwise .

“Can I have a riding lesson tomorrow, Da?” Ailean asked as he wiped up the last of his stew with a scrap of bread.

“I’m out on patrol tomorrow, lad,” Rae replied. Ailean’s green eyes guttered, and he added. “But next week, I will give ye a lesson … ye have my word.”

“Can I have one too?” Lyle asked eagerly.

“Ye are too young,” Ailean shot back.

“Am not.”

“Ye can watch me teach Ailean,” Rae cut in before another squabble erupted. He knew how it was, the rivalry between brothers. “And once it’s done, I’ll let ye sit on the garron’s back and lead ye around the barmkin.”

Lyle nodded eagerly at this, while Rae pushed himself up and rose to his feet. He then glanced at where Esme was folding clothes in the corner of the bedchamber. “Ye can finish up there, lass. I’ll put the lads to bed, tonight.” It was strange, but he was loath to be parted from his sons this evening—almost as if he wished to reassure himself that all was well.

This announcement earned wide smiles from both boys.

A short while later, Lyle and Ailean were tucked up next to each other in bed, with Rae lying on the edge.

“Tell us a tale, Da,” Ailean said, his gaze gleaming in the light of the lantern that burned on the table next to the bed.

“Aye!” Lyle exclaimed. “The Headless Horseman!”

Rae sighed, even as he swallowed a smile. “Don’t ye ever get tired of that one?”

“No!” They both chorused.

Once, when Donalda was still alive, he’d recounted that story to them often. But it had been a while since he’d tucked his sons into bed, let alone told them any tales. Before his wife’s death, Rae had been the one to put them to bed in the evenings. He hadn’t been close to Donalda, yet he enjoyed the uncomplicated affection his sons had lavished upon him. He’d always had a flair for storytelling, and the delight on his sons’ faces, as he told them of fairies, wulvers, and giants, had been a sight indeed. But when their mother died, he hadn’t known what to do with their grief, or how to ease it, and so had taken a step back from them.

He regretted that now.

Do they remind ye of yer wife? Aye, they both did, although not in the ways he’d explained to Kylie earlier in the day. Their eager faces and earnest gazes brought back memories of his distant marriage and everything he’d longed for and never found.

Trying to ignore the ache that rose under his breastbone, Rae cleared his throat. He then began the story his own father had told him. Suddenly, he was transported back in time, with Baird Maclean’s powerful voice rumbling through his bedchamber.

“Once, many years ago, there lived a young man called Euan. He was the son of a powerful chieftain and dwelled upon a crannog on the southern coast of Mull. He was proud and ambitious, and wanted to rule … but his father was hale and strong and that wasn’t to be.”

“Did he want his father’s lands?” Ailean asked.

“Aye,” Rae replied. “He coveted them … and wouldn’t stop nagging his old man to give him some more.”

“But he refused,” Lyle added. “And then they went to battle against each other!”

“Aye.” Rae raised an eyebrow. “But who’s telling his story, me or ye? ”

“Ye!” Lyle clutched his father’s hand, and something that had been locked tight inside Rae’s chest for a while now unraveled.