Page 46 of The Laird's Wicked Game
His mood sobered at the reminder. No, he didn’t.This arrangement was so that they both could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh they’d missed out on over the years—without getting entangled in a relationship.
After Donalda’s death, he’d made himself a promise. Marriage was a burden, and since he already carried much upon his shoulders, he wouldn’t take another wife.
Rae’s chest tightened then as he thought of Donalda, guilt spearing through him. The poor woman hadn’t meant to be a burden. She’d done her best. But being wedded to her had felt like a life sentence on The Bass Rock. Loneliness had dogged his steps of late, but he’d felt even more alone when he’d been married. He wouldn’t make such a mistake again—which meant he needed to keep the lovely Kylie at arm’s length.
Even so, her luminous gaze and the blush that had deepened upon her cheeks made it difficult not to stare at her now.
Yanking his gaze away, Rae reached for his cup of ale and took a deep draft.
He had to be careful.
The mist swirled in—its cool kiss feathering across Rae’s cheeks.
“The sea fret is as thick as porridge this morning,” one of his men grumbled behind him. “We’ll ride straight into the water at this rate.”
Rae cast a glance over his shoulder. “That’s why we need to be out here,” he pointed out. “The Ghost Raiders sail in on days like this.”
The warrior’s brow furrowed. “The Night Plunderercould be out there, Maclean.” He gestured to where a bank of thick, drifting mist obscured the Sound of Mull. “Right in front of us … but we’d never know.”
“Aye, but we’re waiting for them.”
Rae turned back to face the direction of travel and raked his gaze over the fog-shrouded landscape. He’d sent Jack and a party of warriors to scout the coastline north of Dounarwyse, while he took his party south.
His jaw tightened then.We’re ready for ye this time, ye bastards.
No, he wouldn’t be taken unawares this year. The wall around Dounarwyse village had been completed at the end of summer, and he now posted guards around it after nightfall. The defenses would prevent the Ghost Raiders from sacking the hamlet.
Those reivers had plagued his thoughts for a while now—even so, this morning, he found it difficult to brood on them as he often did.
A day had passed since the best night of his life, and he kept catching himself grinning like a fool at the most inconvenient moments. Indeed, his mood was so buoyant that he’d caught his brother watching him quizzically earlier that morning, when they’d talked in the barmkin before setting off on their patrols.
“I thought ye’d be scowling at the sight of such thick fog,” Jack had noted, his gaze narrowing. “But ye look almost cheerful about it.”
Rae had hurriedly schooled his features into a more solemn expression at this observation, for Jack was as sharp as a boning knife and would wonder why his surly elder brother was walking around with a daft smile upon his face.
Even so, as he’d ridden out with his men, a sense of well-being had settled over him. He felt a decade younger this morning.
It hit him then—as the rumble of waves on the shore below drifted through the damp air, and somewhere in the mist, a goat bleated—howsmotheredhe’d felt over the years. He’d been weighed down by responsibilities he’d taken on too young. But Kylie Grant had blown into his life like a spring storm and freed him from his troubles. Thanks to her, he could breathe once more.
And now, as he rode amongst the swirling mist, another smile tugged at his lips.
He was ready for the Ghost Raiders and now bedded a beautiful, lusty lady once a week. Life was looking brighter than it had in a long while.
“Lady Grant.”
Kylie’s head jerked up, mortification prickling her skin as she focused on the lad seated across from her. How many times had Ailean said her name? He was looking at her quizzically now.
Embarrassed to have been caught a thousand leagues away, she cleared her throat. “Aye, Ailean?” Curse her, she needed to concentrate. Instead, she’d been reliving her delicious encounter with the laird of Dounarwyse, and wishing the days would pass faster so that she could go to him again.
“I’ve finished.”
She smiled. “Good … let me see what ye have written.”
The boy handed her his pine-wood board, and she read the sentences he’d painstakingly etched upon it.
I am called Ailean Rae Maclean. Rae Baird Maclean, chieftain of Dounarwyse, is my father.
“Well done,” she murmured, glancing up to find Ailean watching her intently. She couldn’t let thoughts of Rae distract her. She’d been hired to teach his sons, and that had to be her focus. She’d moved to Mull to gain a modicum of freedom and independence—as much as a woman was allowed—and she had to carry out her role well to ensure her place here remained secure. “Yer hand is improving.” She flashed him an encouraging smile. “Soon ye shall be ready to write with a quill and ink, like yer father.”