Seducing the Laird (10 page)

Chapter 17

It was late that night before Cairn was able to leave the hall. He keenly felt the wariness of his clan and wanted to bridge that with the normalcy of a feast. As their party rode through the village that morning the strangeness of this land struck Cairn like a blow. He had been in Scotland less than a season and felt more like a visitor than laird.

The clan’s state of affairs was appalling. Cairn had listened to the shame-faced steward describe the clan’s dwindling finances and the reasons behind them. It all led back to Lady Ivone and her greedy mismanagement of funds. She had ruled the clan during his father’s long illness and assured Cairn everything was fine. Now it appeared she had been less than truthful. Cairn’s first impulse was to demand answers from his stepmother, but Andreu had urged caution.

The clan was already unsure about their future and knew the winter months would be hard. They needed strength and unity in leadership, not an ugly family squabble. Cairn reluctantly agreed, though it galled him that he must show restraint to the one that had bankrupted his clan. Andreu agreed to help find a nice cottage in France for the lady and send her off posthaste.

Those thoughts were stewing in Cairn’s mind all afternoon as he washed off the dirt from his journey and prepared for the feast, but when he saw Verena emerge from the bath, clad in that sheer cloth like a
greek
goddess, all thoughts of the future fled. He wanted her with a hunger he had never experienced before. The kiss in the woods was the briefest taste of heaven that left him forever unsatisfied. It took all of his strength not to dismiss Roselyn right then and carry Verena to the bed, forget the feast and make his apologies to the clan later.

Only one thought kept Cairn from doing just that. He remembered the look in her eyes as she pulled away and her flushed embarrassment. Cairn’s shame at having so thoroughly lost himself in passion kept him away. He felt like a youth experiencing love for the first time.

Now more than ever Cairn needed to be in control. He couldn’t afford to get swept up in a love affair, but neither could he walk away. He needed to touch and taste her again. His loins throbbed to be inside her. Mounting the stairs Cairn tried to tell himself that his passion was due to the length of time he had been without a woman and the intimacy they had shared while in the Langthorne woods, but those were paltry excuses. He craved the fire of Verena, her passion and laughter. He needed to take her and so sate himself that Cairn was able to completely push her from his mind. At least that was his plan.

She had given up on Cairn visiting her chamber and was asleep, but the sound of her unlocked door creaking open brought her instantly awake.

"Why didn’t you bolt the door?" Cairn asked. Verena was silent. He was the laird of this domain. Would a locked door keep him away?

She told herself this was just another assignment; Cairn was like any other man. In his castle Verena was under his control and Cairn could take her whether she wished it or not. But in her heart she knew better. Cairn was different. He wanted her, but he would never force her.

"I know you have suffered," he continued, taking another step forward. Cairn was close enough to touch her now. Her senses were overwhelmed with his presence, his clean smell and heat, the sound of his voice. "If you do not want this, tell me now and I will not bother you. You are safe here and have no obligations to me or anyone else."

Verena squeezed her eyes shut wishing those words were true. Suddenly Gundy’s angry face rose in her mind. Even here Verena could feel his influence. She saw Hadran and Owen in her mind’s eye. Regardless of Cairn’s words she felt her obligations like chains around her throat. They had always been there, but for some reason when she was around Cairn, they became heavier to bear.

She opened her eyes again. A shaft of moonlight filtered in through the window and she was able to study Cairn in its pale light. She knew he desired her, but Cairn said he would walk away if she asked him to.

"You kidnapped me."

"You know why. Are you afraid of me?"

"I think I should be."

"Why?"

With one hand he reached out to gently caress her cheek. His fingers traced the line of her bottom lip.

"You are a lord," she pointed out, not having to contrive the catch in her throat. "You can do whatever you want with me."

Cairn leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss. It was soft and gentle unlike the one in the woods. He teased her with his restraint. She could feel the passion in him but Cairn kept it firmly in check, determined to go slowly.

The sensual play of his lips and brush of his tongue were not enough for her. She wanted more. Verena expected to feel the storm of passion from before, but Cairn savored her, tasting as if she were a fine wine. His lips drifted across her face and
her
drew in a shaky breath as he kissed the sensitive spot below her ear.

"I can take you," he whispered against her throat, making her tremble. "I can have you anywhere I want for as long as I want, but I cannot command your trust."

With those words Cairn released her and turned to leave. She couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to respond. She was shaken, left raw and aching with desire. How could he reduce her to this? She was the seductress, Hadran’s star pupil taught by the master manipulator. He was supposed to be panting for her.

"Bolt the door," Cairn called over his shoulder as he left the room. She reconciled herself with the knowledge that he sounded as shaken as she felt.

Chapter 18

"You are certainly in a touchy mood this morning," Andreu pointed out as he and Cairn sparred on one of the large, muddy practice fields inside the bailey. "I wonder if it has something to do with the extra bags under your eyes."

"I am merely concerned with the clan’s state of affairs."

Andreu swung a snap just as Verena walked by the field. Cairn, temporarily distracted, was knocked backward a pace.

"Keep that up," Andreu warned. "And I’ll have you chained to your bed—where you should be after what Gundy did to you. You can see to the clan’s affairs from there."

"I’ll not have Ivone and her females carrying on over me as if I were an invalid."

Andreu chuckled at the image of his brother cosseted by the ladies of the castle. Perhaps they would entertain him with idle conversation and unending verses of French poetry while waiting for his bruises to heal. It was no wonder he insisted on working as if he were healthy. Cairn retaliated with a combination that left Andreu’s shield arm trembling with the strain of blocking it.

"Have you spoken to the steward today?"

Cairn stepped back, signaling their match was at an end.

"Unfortunately," he replied with disgust.
"More bad news and dire predictions.
There is so much to do I don’t know where to begin."

"I will leave most of my men here to assist you."

"Good morning," Verena called from the side of the practice field.

"Good morning," chorused the brothers.

Verena was wearing another dress belonging to Cairn’s mother. Early that morning Cairn had sent a trunk of her things to her chamber, glad to see her in something other than her original ill-fitting rags. She had chosen a dark brown wool gown with velvet sleeves and a thin band of gold trim around the bodice that emphasized the understated elegance of the ensemble. Unlike Esperanza his mother didn’t feel the need to flash her wealth with gaudy baubles and bright colors. She had possessed a quiet dignity that was evident no matter what she wore. It was startling to realize Verena was like her in many ways.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Andreu, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all.

"It must be the strangeness of my new surroundings," she lied. In truth she had lain
awake
most of the night thinking of Cairn’s puzzling behavior. He should not have been able to walk away from her. Perhaps if she had acted more brazen he would have succumbed, but that might make her persona less credible. For hours she had thought of how to make sure that embarrassing episode never happened again while planning the best place to begin her search for the treasure.

"You will feel much better tonight," Cairn softly promised.

There was no mistaking the sensual intent in that statement. It was strange that her feelings mattered to a noble, but they did. Tonight Cairn would give her a second chance and she knew if she rejected him again, he would leave her alone.

He clearly wanted her, but Cairn was willing to walk away if Verena wasn’t ready. She could see the tension in him, the strain of masking his injuries so he could fully dedicate himself to his responsibilities. The clan needed to prepare for Gundy’s next attack so Cairn was on the practice field with them despite his recent wounds. She had never thought to meet a lord capable of a selfless act, but Cairn seemed to be full of surprises. She wondered what it would be like to make love to someone like that.

They would make love soon. She would see to that. Hadran was right; the Scottish laird craved tenderness, though he would never admit that to himself. He often said that people were too simple. They thought a person or experience would make them happy, but Verena had learned to look deeper. That was how she was able to mold herself into the perfect woman for Cairn. By the time she was through with him the Scot would understand that one night in her bed was not enough. She would ease his stress and bring him peace, but also tease his senses so that Cairn felt he could never get enough.

Make him feel like a man, Hadran advised. It was part of her job, but she found herself looking forward to doing just that.

"Roselyn is taking me to the village," she announced, anxious to change the subject.

"The servant?"
Andreu asked in surprise.

"Yes, the servant."

Did the brothers share Lady Ivone’s dislike of the lower classes? Andreu’s question brought to mind several conversations Verena had with Owen. How many times had he told her the nobility had little affection for those deemed beneath them?

"She promised to show me the town and chapel."

"You should have told me," Cairn replied. "I will have one of my men escort you."

"I’m sure your men have much to do before winter," she replied. "I wouldn’t take them away from their duties for a walk to the village and back. We will not go far and Roselyn will ensure I do not get lost."

She gave Cairn her most innocent look. That last bit was to prove she had no intention of running away and couldn’t with Roselyn’s escort. He had kidnapped Verena the day before, but she wanted him to feel she had put that behind her. It was crucial to her assignment that she be allowed to explore the land unchallenged. Verena hoped Cairn wouldn’t try to stifle her movements.

"Very well," said Cairn after a thoughtful pause. "But be careful. And do not go past the village."

"Of course," Verena said immediately. She spotted Roselyn coming toward her with a basket and waved. "Good day."

The only person she needed for this task was Roselyn. The woman was best friends with or related to half the clan. An introduction from her would do much to integrate her with the villagers—especially the generation old enough to be around during the time of Cairn’s grandfather. Plus with the villagers’ distrust of nobility having an armed escort would certainly not make them comfortable with her.

"This is my mum, Henny," introduced Roselyn a few moments later. Verena stood in the doorway of a small cottage. The room was divided with a cloth hanging from the rafters separating the living area from the common space where six people stepped agilely between a loom, spinning wheel, chest, table, several stools and a tabby cat sprawled unconcernedly in the middle of the floor. "And this is my da, Peter, and sisters, Megan, Meg, Rosie and Rose."

She smiled as she greeted Roselyn’s family. All of the sisters had Roselyn’s bright curls and infectious grin, which they inherited from their mother.

"They say my da was drunk when he named us," she explained conspiratorially. "So we got whatever names he could think of at the time: my grandmum’s name was Megan and there was a rosebush beside her home."

"It’s nice to meet all of you," said Verena, enjoying the informality of the small cottage. Despite the outside chill, inside all was peaceful and warm. A peat fire burned inside the hearth and the aroma of savory stew mingled invitingly with the smells of various herbs drying in bundles hanging from the ceiling.

"Listen to you!" Roselyn’s mother exclaimed, Henny in alarm.
"Always running your mouth.
And then you wonder why you can’t find a husband."

"I can’t find a husband because this town is two meters long!" cried Roselyn.
"Maybe if you let me visit aunt Ester in Sheepsdale."

"Not that again," Peter interrupted. "You aren’t going to visit that crazy old bat and that’s final."

"But Da …" chorused the sisters.

"Don’t you call my sister
crazy!
" Henny warned, yielding a cooking spoon like a deadly weapon. "Next you’ll be blaming this infernal frost on my family too."

"I don’t see why not," Peter replied. "There’s no telling what your mother did up at the castle with the Old Lord."

"She was just a chambermaid," shouted Henny. She glanced pointedly in Verena’s direction and Peter, taking the hint, cleared his throat nervously and began cleaning his nails.

"It’s all right," Verena said to break the awkward silence. "I’ve heard about the Old Lord. I think the stories are fascinating, though I’m not sure I believe them."

"Finally a woman with sense!"
Peter said, ignoring the matching scowls on the faces of his wife and daughters. "I don’t put much stock in horror stories either, but it is always fun to tease them about it."

"It’s no laughing matter," warned Henny, crossing herself. "I don’t know what the Old Lord did, or if he was as bad as everyone said he was. All I know is that when we were in trouble he found a way."

Verena tried to question her, but Henny was reluctant to speak of that time. Years ago the McPhersons struggled under warfare, a harsh winter and plague, but just as the clan faced ruin, the Old Lord produced a miracle. Piles of silver appeared, paying for much-needed food, clothing and medicine.

He saved the clan, but there were those that spoke of the matter in hushed voices, believing the miracle was not the work of divine intervention, but another, darker influence. Verena could understand Henny’s reluctance. As a pious woman she was caught between loyalties to the clan and the church. It was much easier not to question it, not to have the burden of guilt on her mind, always wondering if she owed her survival to a wicked agreement.

They talked of other things, of sewing and recipes and babies. Peter suffered through it with barely a grumble, used to being the only man in a house full of women. Though Verena knew she would get no more information from them, as the hours passed she found herself reluctant to leave. Despite the poverty of their circumstances a bond existed between them which she could only admire. The relationship she had with her adopted family of spies was more practical than emotional. For the first time since she could remember she found herself longing for a real family.

"We should be leaving," said Roselyn, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation. "We have much to do today and the hour grows late."

Verena rose slowly from her stool. She watched from the doorway as Roselyn kissed her mother and father goodbye. She told herself she had nothing to envy. Roselyn’s family had neither her resilience nor skills. They were the kind of people who would till the same dismal fields for generations and yet every year
hope
for something different. Owen would scornfully call them hopeless.

"I am sorry we stayed so long," Roselyn apologized, misinterpreting Verena’s pensive mood. "My sisters and I don’t know when to stop talking."

"Don’t be silly. It is the cold that has me so grim."

"Welcome to Scotland!" Roselyn cheerfully replied.