Page 20 of The Laird's Wicked Game
Storm gave a low whine then, and he cut the collie a sidelong look. His dog was behaving himself now and had sat down a few feet away. Storm viewed him reproachfully, as if he’d ruined his fun.
Cursing once more, Rae dragged a hand down his face and crossed to the open window, welcoming the breeze on his heated face. He’d overstepped. Grossly.
If he’d ever handled Donalda like that, she’d have been incensed. Indeed, after the first few years of their marriage, he’d ceased embracing his wife, for she didn’t seem to enjoy it. She suffered their coupling as a duty and didn’t welcome the intimacy of kissing.
But Kylie hadn’t raged at him.
She’d fled the room, but she’d responded to his kiss with a hunger that had turned him dizzy with lust. And he’d heard the groan of pleasure that had escaped her—the moan that had brought him to his senses.
Clenching his hands at his sides, Rae squeezed his eyes shut.She isn’t ‘Kylie’ to ye,he reminded himself grimly.She’s ‘Lady Grant’, a decent widow whom ye have just disrespected.
No, as delicious as that kiss had been, he couldn’t let himself repeat it.
8: THE WAY OF THE WORLD
“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 Ilivein 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.