Page 26 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“I would,” he replied softly. “Although, just between ye and me … sometimes the responsibility weighs heavily.”
Kylie inclined her head at this admission. Maybe Maclean had sacrificed too much to ensure Dounarwyse prospered. He was stoic, but his angry outbursts and irritation at his sons indicated that other emotions flowed just beneath the surface.
And after observing him over the past weeks, she was beginning to understand him a little better. He carried a burden upon his shoulders, and worried about keeping his tenants safe, but there was more to his volatility than that.
The man was frustrated. Embittered. Lonely.
Not for the first time, she wondered about his marriage. She and Makenna had speculated a little about it, but her gut told her now that it most definitely hadn’t been happy.
We aren’t so different then. The realization made her step falter.
Maclean’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her upper arm to steady her. The contact—the heat of his touch through her sleeve—made Kylie’s breathing grow shallow.
“Thank ye, Maclean.” How she wished her voice didn’t sound so strangled. “Sorry, the ground is rough here … I wasn’t paying attention.”
The laird nodded, releasing her arm. They fell silent then, concentrating instead on climbing the steep, rocky path to the drawbridge. The clang of metal from the blacksmith’s forge greeted them, as did the acrid tang of hot iron, when they passed under the portcullis. Beyond, the barmkin was busy. Lads were wheeling out carts of muck from the stables, and fowl clawed at fallen straw, searching for oat and barley husks.
As she stepped out into the cobbled yard, Kylie caught sight of a man and woman embracing before the entrance to the guard tower.
Jack had bent his lovely wife back over his arm and was giving her such a passionate kiss that his men had started hooting and jeering. Captain Maclean ignored them though, as did Tara, who merely wound her arms sinuously around his neck and hauled him closer.
A moment later, Jack scooped her up into his arms, kicked open the door to the guard tower, and carried her inside.
More catcalls followed, but the couple were clearly oblivious to them.
Kylie whispered an oath, her gaze remaining upon the doorway Jack and Tara had just disappeared through. “What a sight.”
“The devil’s cods,” Maclean muttered. “Do they have to make such a spectacle of themselves?”
Surprised by his outburst, she cut him a glance, to see he was scowling. Deeply.
“Apologies, Lady Grant,” he continued before she could reply. “My brother regularly forgets himself with his wife.” His mouth pursed then. “See what I have to put up with.”
She stilled. Aye, her instincts about him had been right. Hewasfrustrated. Resentful, even. It seemed that the laird of Dounarwyse was jealous of the happiness his brother and sister-by-marriage shared.
Kylie’s chest tightened then. So was she.
“Oh, come on … is that the best ye’ve got?”
“Aye.” Panting, Makenna wiped her forearm across her sweaty brow. She then shot Tormod a rueful look. “I’m done.”
“Can’t handle me, eh?” he goaded with a smirk.
She snorted, still breathless from their sparring. “Hades, ye are full of yerself.”
“Aye, but it’s merited.”
“I still managed to shove ye onto yer arse,” she pointed out with a goading smile.
He grinned back, flashing those perfect white teeth once more. “I thought I’d let ye have one wee victory.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye … ye are improving … but ye still aren’t as good as me.”
“Arrogant ass.” Makenna pulled a face.She then moved away from where they’d been fighting upon the terrace that sat high in the broch, between the eastern walls and the tower house itself, and began to unwrap the binding on her blade. “I hope ye enjoyed besting me.” She then sheathed ‘Arsebiter’ at her side. “For that was the last time.”
“Oh, aye?”