Page 50 of The Laird's Wicked Game
For the first time in a long while, hope filtered to life in Ramsay’s chest. Finally. Freedom from the grudge he’d carried like a heavy shell upon his back was close. All he had to do was ally himself with Tormod MacDougall.
Ramsay didn’t like him much, although he didn’t warm to most people. He didn’t trust him either. Nonetheless, he reminded himself that it was he, not Tormod, who held all the power here. It was his ship and his crew. His rules. Tormod might have the arrogance of ten men, but he was still outnumbered. If Ramsay decided to take Dounarwyse for his own—and he well might—there was nothing this turd could do about it.
And so, he nodded. “Very well, MacDougall,” he said slowly. “Ye have my ship and my sword.” With that, he spat on his palm and held it out.
Tormod grinned back and, without hesitation, grabbed Ramsay’s hand with his own, locking the two of them together in an iron grip.
Ramsay then glanced over at where his men looked on. “Looks like we’ll be staying on here until spring, lads.”
19: JUST THE TWO OF US
Dounarwyse broch, Isle of Mull
Two and a half months later …
“GIVE THAT TO me, ye toad!”
Kylie sprinted out of the broch in pursuit of the bounding Highland Collie, who had swiped the plaid shawl she’d been slinging around her shoulders as she stepped out of the lady’s solar. Storm had then shot down the stairs like a fleeing squirrel. Cursing, Kylie picked up her skirts and followed him.
She’d hoped to catch the dog in the entrance hall below, but a servant had just opened the doors to fetch water from the well.
Storm slipped past the lad and out into the brilliant white of a snowy afternoon.
Kylie slowed as she navigated the slippery steps leading down to the snow-covered barmkin.They were icy and treacherous, and she didn’t fancy taking a tumble. Nonetheless, when she reached the bottom, she trudged toward where Storm bounced and tossed his head, her shawl fluttering behind him like a flag.
“Enough of this game!” she called out in exasperation as the dog darted away whenever she drew close. “That’s my shawl, and ye are slobbering over it!”
But Storm hadn’t finished yet. The snow had fallen thickly three days earlier, and the collie had been lively ever since. His white-tipped tail stood up like a plume as he pranced around the perimeter of the barmkin. Above, the sky was a hard blue, and the air was so cold that her cheeks prickled. Storm didn’t mind the chill though. If anything, it made him friskier. He then darted inside the open granary door.
“I’ve got ye!” Kylie shouted, victorious, as she raced after him and pushed through the narrow gap.
Inside the musty-smelling building, where a glowing lantern hanging from the roof illuminated neatly piled sacks of oats and barley, she came to an abrupt halt.
In the center of the space stood a tall man with a fur mantle about his broad shoulders. A servant stood with the laird, etching marks onto a sanded pine board.
Rae plucked her scarf gently from his dog’s jaws. Meanwhile, Storm sat down meekly at his master’s feet, feigning innocence.
“This is yers, I take it?” The laird raised an eyebrow, his mouth quirking.
“Aye,” she panted. “Yer dog is a menace!”
A grin flowered upon the chieftain’s face, an expression that made her stomach dip as if she were on a high swing. “Aye, he’s a rogue all right.” He glanced at the servant then. “That’s all for now, Muir. I’ll finish up here.”
The man nodded, cast Kylie an amused grin, and handed Rae the board. He then exited the granary, leaving them alone.
She approached her lover, belly fluttering. Even after four and a half months at Dounarwyse, just the sight of the laird made her feel like a giddy lass. They’d continued their wicked game ever since the beginning of autumn, meeting every Sunday night, for lusty encounters. She’d thought that after a month of trysts, she might begin to tire of the arrangement they’d made—but she’d been wrong.
If anything, each meeting just made her hungrier for him. Waiting for Sunday to arrive made each week feel interminable. It was Saturday now, two days before Yule, and need coiled in her belly.Tomorrow.
Reaching out, she took back her shawl. However, her breathing caught as their hands brushed. It was as if everything was still new between them. When would her craving for him subside?
Likewise, Rae stilled at the contact, his eyes darkening in the soft lantern light.
And then, catching hold of her wrist, he drew her against him, his mouth slanting over hers for a lusty kiss.
It was reckless and foolish, and she should have pushed him away and chastised him, but instead, she stepped into Rae, her lips parting for him.
A groan rumbled through his throat, and his arms went around her. The next thing she knew, he’d twisted her left and walked her back, away from the gap Muir had slipped through and out of sight of the barmkin.