Page 8 of The Laird’s Wicked Game (Highland Scandal #2)

“YE ARE AS pale as a ghost this eve,” Makenna murmured, digging her elbow into Kylie’s ribs to make her point. “Is something amiss?”

Glancing up from where she’d been toying with her venison stew, Kylie forced a smile. “Not at all.”

Makenna studied her intently, her sharp features tightening. “Liar … ye’ve been out of sorts for the last couple of days.” She leaned in, concern shadowing her moss-green eyes. “Have the laird’s sons been causing ye trouble?”

Kylie shook her head. She hadn’t breathed a word of that day to her sister—not about Ailean and Lyle’s poor behavior, and certainly not about the illicit kiss. Makenna wasn’t the sort to judge, but Kylie was so used to locking everything inside that it was easier to keep silent.

Makenna’s observation now was correct though. She wasn’t herself at present. After their father’s harsh words, the lads behaved meekly. However, their manner with Kylie was painfully stiff. They got little enjoyment from their lessons, and that bothered her. “The lads are behaving themselves … I’m just a little tired.” She then pulled a face. “And I’ve hardly spent any time with ye since we arrived. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, I’ve kept myself busy,” Makenna replied lightly, tearing herself off a chunk of bread.

Now it was Kylie’s turn to observe her younger sister. It was true, she’d been busy with tutoring Rae’s sons, but she’d also marked how Makenna trained with the Dounarwyse Guard every morning. And over the past few days, she’d spied her sister pacing the walls in the afternoons.

Kylie’s attention traveled past Makenna then, to where a tall, lean man with white-blond hair sat with the other guards at a trestle table. Her sister might not realize it, but Tormod MacDougall spent most of the mealtimes staring at her. Kylie didn’t like the hungry glint in his eye now either—as his gaze lingered upon their table.

“Ye aren’t still training with MacDougall, are ye?” she asked, lowering her voice lest anyone overhear them. Presently, Tara was teasing Ailean and Lyle while wrestling with Arabella on her knee, and the laird and his brother were deep in conversation. It was safe to speak frankly.

“I am,” Makenna replied with a shrug. “Every couple of days … why?”

“Be careful with him.”

Makenna gave a dismissive snort. “I can handle myself.”

Kylie frowned. Her sister’s arrogance could be abrasive at times. “Do ye really need to train with him though? ”

Her sister sighed. “I swear he’s the best fighter I’ve ever met.” She halted then before giving a rueful shake of her head. “I must return to Meggernie soon … for ye can never trust those Campbells not to stir up trouble.” Her expression turned fierce then. “But before I do, MacDougall’s teaching me some valuable swordplay techniques.” She paused, lifting a hand as if to wave her sister’s concerns away. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to handle him.”

Kylie compressed her lips into a tight line at this. Hades, her sister could be frustratingly blinkered at times, and arrogant too. Studying Makenna’s face then, Kylie did her best to understand what drove her. It didn’t seem to be enough that she was a respected member of their father’s Guard, that she had learned skills most women never would. She strove to be stronger. Better. But to what end? She couldn’t take on the Campbells single-handed.

“How will swordplay help ye, when ye are a clan-chief’s wife?” she asked after a pause.

Annoyance flashed in her sister’s eyes. “Why do ye keep bringing that up?” She paused then, her brow furrowing. “It just makes ye sound bitter.”

Ignoring the jibe, Kylie leaned toward her. “Ye will be a wedded woman soon … and ye need to ready yerself.”

“Will ye stop banging the same drum?” Makenna growled. “Fear not, I’ll soon be fat with bairn and mending my husband’s braies … but why shouldn’t I live in the meantime?”

A brittle silence fell between the sisters, and Kylie’s chest tightened. She swallowed a heavy sigh then, leashing her temper. Arguing with Makenna was the last thing she needed—especially since her new start at Dounarwyse was on the verge of being a disaster .

Why did everything have to be such a struggle?

Her attention shifted then to the man sitting at the head of the table.

Rae lounged easily in his carven chair, nodding as Jack explained something. His expression was composed, his eyes slightly narrowed with concentration.

Kylie shouldn’t have let her gaze linger upon him, yet she did. It was the first time she’d focused on the laird properly since their kiss in the solar two days earlier. They had barely spoken afterward—only a few stilted greetings and polite responses had passed between them—and Kylie had taken care to avoid being alone with him.

That wasn’t difficult though, for Maclean had been busy. He’d been out overseeing the wall he was having built around Dounarwyse village, to protect it from raids. He’d also gone on patrol with the Guard, Storm running at his side. She wondered if his frequent absences from the broch were on her account.

Enough. She had to stop ruminating about this. Over the past days, she’d gone over every word that had passed between them before the kiss, had looked at it from every angle.

And try as she might, she couldn’t get him off her mind.

The softness and firmness of his lips, the heat of his mouth, and the masterful stroke of his tongue. Maclean had shocked her, and it was impossible to look at him in the same light.

As if feeling the weight of her stare, the laird glanced away from his brother then—and looked straight at her.

Kylie’s heart fluttered, embarrassment flushing across her chest. She had to look away.

But she didn’t .

And what she saw there made her breathing catch. She’d thought he’d come to regret kissing her, but the expression on his face now, and the heat in his eyes, told another story.

Like her, he remembered every detail.

Like her, he couldn’t forget it.

Heart pounding, Kylie tore her gaze away and dug her spoon forcefully into her stew.

This attraction between them was inconvenient indeed. She wasn’t supposed to lust after the man who’d hired her.

Her belly clenched then. He’d kissed her, but she should have pushed him away and upbraided him for his lusty behavior. Instead, she’d embraced him with just as much enthusiasm. Her reaction to his kiss shocked her down to her bones.

And ever since, her belly had been in knots.

When Makenna leaves, I should go with her.

Her breathing grew shallow then, panic bubbling up. But where would she go? Back to Meggernie Castle, to weather her father’s disappointment and her mother’s concern? They now knew of Errol’s debts and her destitution, for she’d finally written to them after they left Moy Castle in early May—and when Makenna had made the trip to Argyll to escort her back to Mull in July, she’d brought word from their father.

Bruce MacGregor would welcome his daughter home.

It was a kind offer, yet she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days as a bored widow at Meggernie. Just the thought filled her with dread.

Resentment surged up then, and her chest began to ache. Since the day of her birth, men had controlled her destiny. If it wasn’t her father, it was her husband, and now it was the laird of Dounarwyse. Kylie’s gut told her that Rae Maclean wasn’t a bad man; however, life under his roof wasn’t turning out as she’d hoped. What would it be like to be her own mistress, to be the one who made the rules?

Don’t be a goose , she chastised herself then, shoving her bitterness down deep. Ye can’t change the way of the world.

“Lady Grant … a letter has come for ye.” A servant stood in the doorway to the lady’s solar, waving a rolled parchment. “A rider just arrived from Moy.”

Kylie cast aside the embroidery she’d been working on and rose to her feet. Excitement stirred in her breast then, unraveling a little of the knotted tension. It had been a few months since she’d heard from Liza, and reading her news would be a welcome distraction from her troubles. Telling herself she needed to hold fast was one thing—finding a way to repair her relationship with Maclean and gain his sons’ respect was another.

It would be a relief to hear how her sister’s new start, as the lady laird of Moy, was going.

Makenna and Tara looked on as she crossed the solar. The women were seated opposite each other before the gently glowing hearth, for it was an unusually cool day for summer and a misty rain fell outside.

Taking the missive with a nod of thanks, Kylie carried it over to where a lantern glowed brightly on a table by the hearth. She then broke the seal, unfurled the scroll, and began to read. However, after a few moments, her mouth pursed.

“Well?” Makenna asked, her voice tight with impatience. “How is Liza faring?”

Eyes still trained on the missive, Kylie didn’t answer immediately. She was too busy trying to throttle her indignation and disappointment. Finally mastering herself, she glanced up. Makenna had put aside the basket of wool she was winding onto a spindle and now leaned forward in her chair, while Tara looked on with curiosity.

“She’s married,” Kylie announced.

Makenna’s green eyes snapped wide. “To Alec?”

“None other.”

“Ye sound disapproving,” Tara observed with a raised eyebrow.

Kylie snorted and held out the missive to her sister so she could read it for herself. Tara might think her judgmental, but she didn’t know what Liza had suffered over the years.

Meanwhile, Makenna grabbed the unfurled parchment and began to scan it.

“I can’t believe she’d be so reckless,” Kylie muttered, unable to contain herself a moment longer. She felt like a pot of hot milk about to froth. Suddenly, all her frustrations of late boiled up inside her.

“To wed a former pirate, ye mean?” Tara asked.

“Aye!”

That got Makenna’s attention. She glanced up from reading, her brow furrowing. “We knew they were lovers, Kylie,” she reminded her. “Surely, ye realized it was just a matter of time? ”

“She had the chance to forge her own path in life,” Kylie shot back, pulse racing now. “Not to answer to any man except the clan-chief and the Bruce himself. But now she’s Alec Rankin’s wife, she risks sinking into his shadow. Before we know it, he’ll be ruling Moy, not her.”

Silence followed this outburst. Both Makenna and Tara were staring at her as if she’d just sprouted devil’s horns. Indeed, she didn’t usually have so much to say for herself. But she wouldn’t choke down her anger any longer. Her altercation with Rae Maclean had loosened something inside her, and this missive had just pushed her over the edge.

Eventually, Makenna cleared her throat. “I don’t think that will happen.”

“Won’t it?” Kylie pulled a face. “There is no chance Alec will stand back and let his wife make all the decisions. No man would.”

“They aren’t all controlling, ye know?” Tara replied. Her voice was still low, yet there was a glint in her smoke-colored eyes. “I hope ye aren’t confusing protectiveness with oppression … there’s quite a difference.”

Kylie’s pulse started to race. Of course, Tara would see it that way. She was wed to a man who respected her and treated her like a queen. But most marriages were like her own had been—or worse, for Liza had suffered terribly at Leod Maclean’s hands. “I know the difference,” she growled back.

Meanwhile, Makenna’s brow had furrowed. “I know Errol treated ye poorly,” she replied, eyeing her sister warily now. “But that’s in the past now.”

“Aye,” Tara murmured. “Don’t let one bad man stain yer view of all others. ”

Turning from her companions, Kylie stalked back to her window seat and snatched up her embroidery. Suddenly, she felt as if the two of them were ganging up on her. A blissfully wed woman, and a willful virgin. They hadn’t lived in her shoes. They didn’t understand.