Page 7 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“Aye, Storm usually goes everywhere with me … but not today.”
Embarrassment washed over him then, warmth creeping up his neck. Would Lady Grant think him foolish? Donalda had often been dismissive about his bond with his collie.
Don’t be a daft bastard, he told himself, irritation spiking through him.Why does it matter to ye so much what the lady thinks?
Shoving aside the insecure thoughts that were starting to vex him, he moved on.
The small party entered the broch with Storm bouncing at Rae’s side, tail wagging like a banner, crossing a narrow entrance hall. The heavy oaken door at the far end was open, revealing a large rectangular hall beyond, yet Rae didn’t take the women into that space. Instead, they climbed the narrow stone stairs to the floor above, where the chieftain’s chambers were located.
His solar, a room where he spent much of his time when he wasn’t busy with other matters, was a rectangular chamber with a great, currently unlit, hearth up one end, flanked by two high-backed chairs—and a wooden table at the other. Shelving up against one wall held neatly stacked ledgers, ink pots, and quills. There was also a tidy row of books upon the shelves, his pride and joy, although most of them he’d inherited from his father.
A tapestry depicting Dounarwyse broch surrounded by a glittering sea and bucolic fields hung from the wall opposite the hearth, and a stag’s head—a magnificent beast Rae’s great grandfather had killed—was mounted above the fireplace.
A familiar hollow sensation settled within Rae’s chest then. As much as he loved his solar, he’d spent too much time alone here, of late. Brooding. Worrying. Listening to the sounds of life and gaiety outside the open window but feeling apart from it all.
Halting inside, he watched the two women take in their surroundings. Lady Grant’s gaze lingered upon his books before it traveled over to the open window.
Is she comparing my solar to her father’s at Meggernie Castle?
These two were daughters of a clan-chief. It didn’t usually bother him what others thought of his home—for he’d always been proud of this fortress—but now he worried they’d think his solar cramped and shabby.
Heat washed over him then, and he curled his fingers into fists at his sides. Hades, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t used to lacking such confidence within the walls of his own broch.
Silently berating himself for letting such ridiculous insecurities get to him, he motioned to the table. As he’d anticipated, servants had already brought up food. Storm, who’d entered the solar with him, had calmed down and now sat at his side, gaze trained upon the meal. A pot of mutton stew, a basket of fresh oaten bread, and a wheel of cheese awaited the three of them. “Please take a seat,” he said, more brusquely than intended, “and I shall pour some wine.”
“This is delicious,” Makenna enthused as she helped herself to more stew. “Ye are blessed with a good cook.”
“We are,” Maclean admitted. “Cadha is getting on in years, and her eyesight is starting to fail, but she still always manages to produce a fine meal.” He picked up a ewer and glanced over at Kylie. “More wine?”
She nodded, watching as he poured the apple wine into her goblet. In truth, she wasn’t used to being waited on thus by a man—especially the laird himself. At Meggernie Castle, her mother, she, or one of her sisters poured refreshments for guests, and during her marriage, she’d always done so for Errol. The break with the traditional order of things was disquieting.
Perhaps, after his show of temper outdoors earlier, Rae Maclean wished to demonstrate that he did, indeed, have a softer side.
Taking another mouthful of stew, Kylie admitted that, indeed, it was one of the best she’d ever tasted, the gravy rich and velvety, the meat tender and full-flavored. She savored it while sipping from her goblet.
Slowly, she started to relax. The violent scene that had greeted them below had made her question her sanity in coming to live here, but the good food and wine unknotted the tension in her chest, as had the laird’s hospitality. This was a pleasant place to have a meal too. The solar’s single window sat opposite the table. It was open this afternoon, giving her a view out to sea. The sun glistened gold on the water, turning it molten, and in the distance, outlined against the faint shadow of the mainland, she spied a cog traveling the Sound.
“What a sight,” she murmured, eager to talk of pleasant, positive things. “Ye must never tire of it.”
She glanced over at Maclean then, meeting his eye.
Feeding Storm the last scrap of his bread, he favored her with a half-smile. “No … I never have.”
4: NO REGRETS
THE TWO LADS rolled around on the floor, their squeals and shouts lifting to the rafters.
“Cease this!” the laird shouted, his voice slicing through their play-fighting.
Immediately, the boys obeyed, springing apart as if someone had just emptied a bucket of cold water over them. Entering the room behind Maclean, Kylie abruptly halted.
Meanwhile, a thin, pale lass with wispy blonde hair and a cowed expression stood behind the bairns. “I’m sorry, Maclean,” she gasped, wringing her hands together. “I tried to get them to stop … but they wouldn’t listen. They—”
“Don’t fash yerself, Esme,” he cut the lass off, his gaze never leaving the bairns, who now exchanged guilty looks. “The entire broch could hear ye two. It sounded as if two cats were being skinned in here.”
The harshness of his tone made Kylie wince. It was as if he were addressing his warriors, rather than his sons.
The taller boy—a handsome lad with a mop of auburn hair, mischievous green eyes, and an impish face—lowered his gaze. “I was just teaching Lyle his place, Da,” he muttered.