Page 14 of The Laird’s Wicked Game (Highland Scandal #2)

KYLIE’S CHEEKS WERE flushed, her full lips slightly parted, and her lush bosom now rose and fell sharply. But it was her eyes that caught and held Rae’s attention. Her pupils had enlarged, making her gaze dark and limpid.

He was playing a dangerous, wicked game.

Nonetheless, his proposal had been made, and there was no withdrawing it.

What in Hades are ye doing? The voice of sanity and reason whispered to him. The woman will think ye an immoral wretch.

Aye, but he was. He’d thought about little else of late except plowing the lovely Kylie. And after the conversation they’d just had—an exchange he’d remember until the end of his days—he knew she wanted him too.

And he hadn’t lied before. He wasn’t in the market for another wife. Nor was he wanting to lose his heart. No, what he needed was to make up for years of frustration and longing, with this woman .

Only her.

He wasn’t sure why he’d shown Kylie that book—desire must have turned him momentarily witless—all the same, her reaction to it surprised him. She had the appearance of a stern widow at times, with her plain kirtles and spinsterish hairstyles that would ward most men off; but from the moment he’d met her at Moy Castle, he’d sensed the raw sensuality just beneath.

And after that torrid kiss they’d shared, he knew that bedding her would be a delight.

Even so, he’d now started to sweat like a priest in a brothel. What if he’d completely miscalculated? Was he about to make an utter fool of himself?

“Ye want us to become lovers … for six months?” she asked finally, as if to reassure herself she hadn’t misheard him, and the huskiness to her voice sent a jolt straight down to his rod.

“Aye … we shall make a game of it,” he replied, thinking on his feet now. “Once a week, when the rest of the broch slumbers, ye shall come to me.” His voice grew strained then as his groin started to ache. “And we shall choose chapters from the book to follow … ye may pick out which ones, if ye wish?” He halted at that point, worried that he’d gone too far. There was a fine line between lewdness and lechery, and perhaps he’d just crossed it.

“Have ye thought this through?” she asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“No,” he admitted with an embarrassed snort. And he hadn’t. He’d had lusty thoughts about the woman he’d hired, but he’d never conceived of making such a proposal to her. “If I’m honest, all of this is new to me, lass. I’m making up every word as I go. ”

She inclined her head. “And what about the fact I share a chamber with my sister?” she pointed out. “Surely, Makenna will notice if I sneak out of bed?”

“I shall arrange for ye to have separate bedchambers, if ye wish?”

Silence followed his confident response. Hades, it did sound as if he’d planned all this.

Her smooth throat bobbed. “Can I have a day or two to think on things?”

His pulse started to thump in his ears. Well, she hadn’t rejected him outright. That was a start. “Of course.”

“Very well.” She pushed herself up from the table then, favoring him with a smile, even if her cheeks were still flushed. He couldn’t read her gaze now though; she’d deliberately veiled it. “I shall bid ye good eve then.”

He rose to his feet, nodding to her. “Good eve, Kylie.” How he liked saying her name. He also enjoyed hearing her address him familiarly as well, although she didn’t do so now.

Instead, Kylie nodded back and stepped away from the table. An instant later, she checked herself. Moving forward once more, she retrieved the book he’d lent her and tucked it under one arm.

And then, without another word, she walked from the solar, leaving him staring after her.

A salt-laced breeze drifted in through the open window, cooling Kylie’s flushed cheeks .

Sitting on the window seat in the lady’s solar, winding wool onto a spindle as she conversed with Makenna and Tara, she’d made the mistake of thinking of the game Rae had proposed. A mistake, for the moment she did—her mind instantly conjuring up torrid images—she’d started to sweat.

Luckily, her companions were too focused on each other to pay her much attention, for Makenna had just told Tara about the bargain their fathers had struck. It was Sunday, and there was no class today. Instead, after returning from the Sunday service in the village kirk, Ailean and Lyle were outdoors having their first riding lesson with their father.

As soon as the sisters had awoken at dawn, Kylie told Makenna of her discovery about Tara. Likewise, Makenna had news for her as well.

There was a ferry for Oban leaving mid-morning the day after next, and she would be on it. The time for her return to Meggernie Castle was well overdue.

Nonetheless, her sister’s announcement had made a lump rise in Kylie’s throat. She’d swallowed it though. Of course, Makenna wished to resume her role in their father’s Guard while she was still able. Not only that, but MacDougall’s attack had soured her stay at Dounarwyse. She’d want to put it all behind her. All the same, the thought of her sister leaving filled her with irritational fear. She didn’t confide much in others, but her younger sister was still her rock. In truth, she sometimes felt an irritational stab of jealousy toward Makenna—for the lass had always gotten more attention than her—but knowing she was nearby made her feel secure .

Kylie cleared her throat then, focusing on Tara. “Ye aren’t upset that I told Makenna about ye and yer brother?” she asked, suddenly aware that she might think her a gossip. “The laird did tell me to keep quiet about it … but I thought my sister should know.”

Tara shook her head, although her expression remained strained. “Don’t fash yerself,” she replied softly. “I’d have told ye both myself” —her gaze flicked to Makenna then— “if I’d known ye were betrothed to Bran.”

Makenna managed a tight smile in return. “Sorry … I should have mentioned it.” She grimaced then. “In truth, I try not to think about the alliance our fathers made.”

Tara didn’t reply to this candid comment, and Makenna shifted uneasily in her chair. “So, ye haven’t spoken to him since the Battle of Dounarwyse?”

Tara shook her head, her silvery eyes clouding. “He made it clear the day of the Mackinnon’s defeat that I was dead to him.”

Makenna’s brow furrowed at this news, grooves etching on either side of her mouth.

Kylie also tensed. Was her sister’s betrothed intractable … the sort of man to nurse grudges?

As if sensing their worry, Tara sighed. “Our father was hard on us both … my brother especially. He wished for a brutish, blood-thirsty son, but Bran was a sensitive lad. He’ll be bitter now … but he isn’t like his sire.”

“He isn’t?” Makenna didn’t look convinced.

Tara huffed a weary sigh, casting aside the clothing she was mending. “The bad blood between the Macleans of Duart and the Mackinnons of Dùn Ara runs deep. My brother was on the losing side of the battle between our clans … he saw men he’d grown up with die.” He r throat bobbed then, her voice growing husky as she continued. “He sees me as a traitor.”

“Ye didn’t betray him,” Kylie pointed out gently.

Tara’s full lips quirked in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I fell in love with the enemy … that’s betrayal in my brother’s eyes.”

“Aye, well, it seems as if he’s cursed with a rigid temperament,” Makenna sniffed.

Tara smiled once more, and this time, her gaze warmed. “Something ye shall no doubt cure him of.”

Makenna muttered a curse at this before stabbing her needle into the pillowcase she was embroidering: a field of yellow and white daisies. She wasn’t just adept with a dirk, but was also a talented seamstress. Back at Meggernie, Kylie remembered her younger sister embroidering by the light of a lantern, long into the evenings. “It remains to be seen if yer brother will even present himself at Meggernie Castle at Bealtunn,” she pointed out. “He might decide he’d rather not honor his father’s debt.”

“Oh, he’ll be there,” Tara replied softly, sadness edging her voice now. “Honor is important to Bran … he’ll not break a promise.”

Makenna screwed up her face and set aside her embroidery. “Enough about me,” she muttered. “I’d rather not dwell on what’s to come.” She then rose from her seat and went to the table a few yards away, where a leather bag sat. Kylie had noted it earlier, but their conversation—and thoughts of Rae’s proposal—had distracted her. Now, Makenna reached into the bag and withdrew a slender leather sheath attached to a wide strap. Turning to Kylie, she held it out to her. “Here … this is for ye. ”

Putting down her spindle, Kylie took the weapon. “Good Lord, what am I supposed to do with this?”

Makenna snorted. “I had it made especially for ye before I left Meggernie. It’s a lady’s dagger, designed to be worn strapped to yer thigh. Whenever ye go for a walk beyond the walls of Dounarwyse, or to market, ye should wear it.”

Kylie frowned. “Do ye really think the world such a dangerous place?”

Her sister’s gaze never wavered. “I would sleep easier back home if I knew ye wore it.”

They stared at each other, and Kylie thought of refusing. However, it would be churlish to push away such a thoughtful gift, and so she nodded slowly.

Makenna’s lips curved. “Take a look at it then.”

Carefully, Kylie took hold of the grip and drew the dagger from its leather sheath.

Across the room, Tara gave a low whistle. “Look at that wicked blade.”

“Aye,” Makenna said proudly, her gaze still fixed on Kylie. “Remember our lessons … if someone attacks ye, go for the sensitive spots.”

“Aye, the groin, throat, or belly,” Kylie answered with a wince.

Makenna nodded, her smile widening into a grin. “Ye were always better with a blade than Liza,” she admitted with a wink. “Faster … with a truer aim.”

Kylie raised an eyebrow, even as she warmed under the unexpected compliment. “I was?”

“Aye … now, strap it on then … let’s see how it fits. ”

With a sigh, Kylie carefully resheathed the weapon and rose to her feet. She then pulled up her skirts and strapped the blade to her right thigh.

Makenna gave a nod of approval. “Perfect.”

Kylie muttered something under her breath before adding. “Ye speak as if I’d just donned a fine amber necklace.”

Her sister gave a low laugh. “This is far more beautiful … and useful.” Their gazes met once more. “Promise me ye’ll wear it.”

“Don’t weep … or ye’ll have me howling like a bairn.”

Kylie hiccoughed, swallowing hard to loosen her tight throat. It felt as if someone were throttling her this morning. “I’m trying.” It was no good though, the tide inside her wouldn’t be stemmed, and hot tears started to flow down her cheeks.

“Och!” Makenna stamped her foot, her moss-green eyes overflowing now as well. “I warned ye!” Her sister pulled Kylie into a hard hug, and they clung together for a few moments.

Meanwhile, in the barmkin, a wind whipped in through the open gates, scattering straw and tugging at the women’s hair. The sun had just risen, and it wasn’t giving out much warmth this morning. Makenna would be glad of the fur-lined cloak she wore when she took the ferry across the water to Oban. Her sister had a long day of travel ahead of her; indeed, it would take her well over a week to reach their family home in Perthshire.

“Thank ye for staying here with me,” Kylie whispered, her voice catching. “Although I wish I’d insisted ye leave sooner … maybe if I had, MacDougall wouldn’t— ”

“There’s no point in worrying about such things,” Makenna cut her off, giving her ribs one last squeeze before releasing her. Stepping back, she knuckled away the last of her tears and squared her shoulders. As always, her sister looked ready for action, with a quiver of arrows and a longbow slung across her back, a dirk at one hip, and her longsword, ‘Arsebiter’, at the other. She was dressed in her sturdiest kirtle and surcote, and underneath, she wore leather chausses. Makenna had left her long red-brown hair unbound, although she braided it at the sides to keep it out of her eyes in the wind. Her sister looked both formidable and striking.

“Ye focus on yerself now … and making a success of yer new life,” Makenna said firmly. “Ye have made a good start. I want ye to be happy here.”

“I will be,” Kylie replied, wishing she sounded more convincing. Guilt speared her then, for she hadn’t said anything about her attraction to Rae, nor had she told her about the kiss they’d shared or the conversation they’d had over supper a couple of days earlier.

And because she was so adept at hiding things, her sister suspected nothing.

A hollow sensation settled in her chest then, a familiar feeling of loneliness. Why had she always found it so hard to let others—even her sisters—in? She could have told Makenna about Rae, for she wouldn’t have judged her, but whenever the urge had risen, she’d quashed it.

“I shall miss ye,” she said huskily.

Makenna cleared her throat. “And I ye, dear sister.” Her lips curved then. “I expect regular missives from ye, mind … not like Liza, who only writes when prompted.”

Kylie nodded. “I promise. ”

Makenna moved back then, heading toward the garron that was saddled and ready for her. Captain Maclean and two of his Guard would escort her south to Craignure and ensure she safely boarded the ferry. Although Tormod MacDougall had been banished from Maclean lands, they didn’t want to take any chances.

Turning, Makenna glanced over at where Rae stood on the steps to the broch, flanked by his sons. She then raised a hand in farewell.

The laird of Dounarwyse nodded. “A safe journey home, Lady Makenna.”

Makenna sprang up onto the pony’s back then, sliding her booted feet into the stirrups, and adjusting her weapons. She cast Kylie a final glance, and their gazes held for a few moments. Then, Makenna gathered the reins and turned her mount around, following Jack and his men out under the portcullis.

Kylie watched her leave, her chest aching.

“I’m hungry.” Lyle’s voice drew her attention. “Is it time to break our fast yet?”

“Aye, lad.” Rae scooped the boy up, setting him upon his shoulders. He then took Ailean’s hand. It pleased Kylie to see him more demonstrative with his sons. The adoration on their faces whenever they looked at him was plain to see. “Let’s go up and get stuck into some fresh bannocks.”

“Can I have another riding lesson today?” Ailean asked, flashing his father a cheeky smile.

Rae snorted. “Ye always have to push it, don’t ye? Today, Lady Grant will be teaching ye … but if ye study hard this week, I shall take ye out again on Sunday.” He glanced over at Kylie then, their gazes meeting across the barmkin .

The impact of it—the first time she’d made such direct eye contact with him since their supper together—made her stomach swoop like a diving swallow. He’d given her a couple of days to think over his proposal, and hadn’t pushed her for an answer, yet he’d want one eventually. And, in truth, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

Just six months of carnal intimacy—an adventure of sorts—and then she could return to being a chaste widow. It tempted her, and it cowed her too. Kylie had never been the sort to flout the rules—but there were times when her self-imposed cage frustrated her. What would it be like, to set herself free from it, if only for a short while?

The moment drew out, and then Rae’s lips tugged into a smile that made her belly flutter. “Will ye join us in the solar, Lady Grant?”

Kylie’s pulse skittered. She had to find a way to calm herself around him. “Aye,” she replied.

He nodded, his smile still lingering, before he tore his gaze from hers and turned, retreating up the steps to the broch with his sons.

Heart thumping against her ribs, Kylie followed.