Highlander's Tempting Stranger: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance Page 2

  Even Maura had to acknowledge just how easy her life would become if Malcolm Campbell—the young widower who had taken a fancy to her—were to ask her to marry. She knew the visits from the debt collectors would cease, and the stress on her mother’s heart would finally lessen. Perhaps her siblings could lead an easier life if she married Malcolm Campbell. Maybe they would never have to know the stress and pressure Maura did.

  The door to the back opened and two young children rushed out, calling Maura’s name. Isobel and Angus, the two siblings Maura loved so dearly, circled her like stray dogs begging at the door for scraps.

  “Pears!” Angus, who was the younger of the two, spied the basket on the table and scrambled to reach out for it. He was too short, though, and his chubby hands closed into fists just shy of the wicker. “Pears, Maura!”

  “Aye.” She smiled, nudging the basket closer to the edge of the table where he could grab it. With a gleeful giggle, Angus dragged the basket down onto the floor, where he and Isobel each picked one and began to eat. Sweet pear juice dribbled down their chins as they bit into the fruit, their cheeks bulging from the strain of huge mouthfuls.

  Maura reached down to ruffle Angus’s mop of messy blond hair affectionately. “Mind yerselves. You’ll both be sick again if ye eat too fast.”

  The two children mumbled their agreement past huge mouthfuls of pear, and as they went back to their early morning feast, Maura turned to her mother. “Ma, let’s leave this for now.”

  Edna opened her mouth once more, as if to argue with her eldest daughter, but thought better of it. She had to agree that not much good could come of it even if she did argue, so instead, she picked up the broom from behind the bar.

  “Get to yer chores, Maura,” she said quietly, stooping down to pick up the basket of pears before Isobel and Angus could devour the lot of them.

  Maura clung to the broom with a frown, resting her chin on the handle. The importance of this issue was not one that she failed to understand. She was old enough to know the terrifying reality that the debt collectors posed. If her family could not pay the necessary money, the threat of the Inn being snatched from their hands loomed overhead.

  The idea of being sold off as a mere transaction, traded like the pears she’d fetched that morning, was something that made her stomach churn. Her life here was by no means luxurious nor easy, and on many a night, Maura would stare up at the stars and wish that she could just run off into the highlands and disappear.

  But with that being said, this life was her life. It wasn’t much, but she felt like she could control it, at least to some degree. If she were to marry Malcolm Campbell, would she have that same freedom? Would she be allowed to enjoy those same simple pleasures she had indulged in on her morning walk? Would she have that same privacy, that same peace?

  Maura shook herself sternly. Either way, the matter of Malcolm Campbell was an issue she had managed to dodge. Her immediate concern was to clean the Inn for any lodgers who would come through the door that night. After sending her siblings outside to play so they would not get under her feet, Maura began to sweep the floor of the Inn, humming to herself.

  She had almost finished cleaning the floors when she heard the creak of the door swinging open. It was too early for her to be expecting customers, so with her back to the door, she assumed it was one of her siblings coming back in.

  “There’ll be no more pears for either one of ye if ye don’t let me do mah chores!” Maura called over her shoulder. However, she didn’t hear the whine of disappointment that she’d expected, so she turned to the doorway and was surprised to see a man stood there rather than Isobel or Angus.

  The stranger towered over Maura, and with the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head, he made for a rather imposing figure. However, as Maura looked at him, she suspected that he was not one of the debt collectors she’d seen around the Inn before. Her suspicions were only confirmed when he tugged the hood of his cloak back and shook rather unruly auburn hair out of his eyes.

  “Mornin’, miss.” He bowed his head respectfully. “Might I be right in thinkin’ ye have a room for lodgers here?”

  2

  The first thing Maura noted about the man was how tall he was. She was petite, so it was not uncommon for her to crane her neck to speak with lodgers of the Inn, but she reckoned this stranger would dwarf even them. He towered above her so much that he would have had to stoop to make it through the door to get into the Inn. What seemed strange to her was a neckless on his chest. It looked like a Celtic symbol of four circular shapes intertwined together forming a cross like shape. It was not silver and not of value but there was something charming about it.

  It was then that Maura realized she had not yet replied to the stranger. Shaking herself a little, she cleared her throat. “A room?”

  “Aye.”

  “We do have rooms available. How long would ye be lodging with us?”

  At that, the man paused, his gaze dropped to the floor, and he looked almost bashful. It took him a little while to respond, almost as though he was gathering the courage to respond to her. “Well, miss…”

  Maura’s mother must have heard the stranger's voice, and at the sound of a low rumble she did not recognize, Edna came out of the back rooms and joined them. She held a rag between her hands as she eyed the newcomer slowly, taking in his mud-splattered clothes and the claymore that was sheathed by his hip.

  “We’ll have no trouble here, sir,” Edna said.

  “I wouldn’t want to cause any to ye,” the man said earnestly, before allowing himself another ashamed smile. “But I must say to ye…I haven’t any money.”

  Edna tossed the rag down on the bartop, folding her arms over her chest and drawing herself up to her full height against this stranger. “Ye think I’m giving away free rooms, do ye?”

  “Not at all, ma’am,” the man said quickly, shaking his head. “I was hoping I could work off ma debt for the room if ye might allow it.”

  “I’ve got more than enough help around here already.” Edna gestured to Maura, who was still clutching the broom tightly, ready to swing it at the stranger if he caused any trouble to them. “I don’t need a beggar at my door.”

  “I wouldn’t assume that ye would, ma’am,” the man agreed. For his gruff appearance, Maura was surprised by how gentle his voice was when they spoke to him. “But I happened to see yer roof as I was passing by. It looks as though it could use some work, and I’d hate to see ye put yer lovely daughter up there to fix it.”

  Maura and Edna exchanged a knowing glance, all but having a conversation in front of the man. He was right. Their roof had been damaged in a storm, and they were yet to find someone capable of fixing it.

  “Ye’ll fix the roof for a room?” Edna asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. It seemed like too good of a deal to be true, almost.

  “And a meal, for myself and ma horse, if I may.”

  Edna was silent for a few moments as she considered the man’s proposal. The roof was indeed in dire need of mending, and it was true that there was no shortage of rooms at present. Eventually, she agreed to it. “But I’ll pay ye nothing extra for the work.”

  The stranger agreed to that and then gave them his name. Lachlan. He seemed unwilling to provide them with much more information about himself than that, but for the time being, that wasn’t of great importance to either of them.

  “Maura, show him the toolshed,” Edna instructed, taking the broom from her daughter. “He can get started presently.”

  Maura looked back over at Lachlan, who by now had taken off his cloak, hanging it over the crook of his elbow. She beckoned him to follow her out of the Inn, and almost as soon as she had stepped outside, she came face-to-face with the man’s horse.

  “Ah, aye.” Lachlan patted the hind of the animal affectionately before taking hold of the reins. “And ah’ll be needin’ a place to tie him.”

  “We have some stables, but they’re small.” Maura reached out a tent
ative hand to pet the horse, running her fingertips down the white stripe of his nose. He was a beautiful creature with deep brown eyes and a pale brown coat, except for the few white patches on his face and legs. As Maura stroked his nose gently, his ears twitched, and he huffed out a breath of air through his nose.

  Maura led Lachlan around the sheltered stables behind the Inn. They weren't much, nor nearly as grand as some of the larger Inns on the way into Dunoon, but they kept the wind and the rain off the animals overnight.

  “What’s his name?” she asked, as Lachlan tied the horse up, unsaddling him to give him some respite from the journey they’d taken together.

  “Gairdh.” He offered the animal another affectionate pat before setting down his cloak along with the saddle. He loosened the belt that held up his sheath, too, propping it up against the wall. “It’s for his temperament—rough and wild.”

  “He doesn’t seem so rough to me,” Maura said, looking back at the horse.

  “Aye, it means he likes ye,” Lachlan assured her. For a moment, they fell silent, while Lachlan admired his horse, and Maura watched him. She was cautious of every lodger who blew in on the wind, particularly those who traveled alone. This one, in particular, looked like he’d spent a fair amount of time on the road before arriving here. With his tousled auburn hair and the red beard that covered his cheeks and jaw, he was a striking man who clearly seemed intimidating. It was a juxtaposition to how gentle he was with his horse and how polite his voice was when he addressed Maura and Edna.

  “I’ll show ye the toolshed.” Maura beckoned him to follow her around to the back of the Inn, where they kept a few essentials needed for the upkeep of the building, including a ladder for Lachlan to get onto the roof. “Now you mind yerself up there. There ain’t a healer for miles if you slip an’ fall.”

  “Oh, I’ll take care,” Lachlan assured her, lifting the ladder with great ease as he carried it around to the front of the Inn. Maura watched him climb up to begin work, and then once she was satisfied that he was safe up there, she went back inside to finish tending to her chores.

  It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of a horse approaching outside. Curious about who this could have been, Maura peeked out of the window, only to see Malcolm Campbell dismount his horse.

  Malcolm Campbell was considered by most to be the perfect material for a potential husband and the most suitable man that a young woman could hope to marry. He was tall, with features so pleasant that not even the thin scar on his cheek could make him appear unsightly. It was no wonder that Maura’s mother pushed her so passionately to have him as a son-in-law.

  Some may have considered it strange to see such an eligible man still in search of a wife in his mid-thirties, but as Edna had told her one evening, there was a sad truth to the matter. Malcolm Campbell had taken a wife several years prior—a beautiful young woman whom he’d showered in gifts and loved deeply. Not much older than Maura, it had been a tragedy when she’d died shortly after childbirth, only a year into their ill-fated marriage. Reportedly, Malcolm had gone into a frenzy at the death of his wife, which was only made worse by the death of their daughter only a few days later.

  Maura had only been young at this time, and she couldn’t remember any of this, but Edna recalled it well, and she’d relayed it to her eldest daughter soon after realizing that Mr. Campbell had taken a fancy to her. The death of Mr. Campbell’s young bride was all anyone could talk about at the time—the tragedy of a man left without his wife and infant. Apparently, he’d been so distraught at the loss that he’d purged the house of anything that would remind him of her, including the servants who had tended to her. He blamed them for her death, and no one could blame the grieving man for his actions.

  He was handsome, deeply passionate, and very wealthy. Those were three things that everyone knew about young Mr. Campbell, and those were the three things that made him such an enticing figure.

  Edna’s words still rung in her ears, and Maura knew that if she passed up the opportunity to invite Malcolm inside, her mother would be furious. So, after smoothing down her skirt a little and tucking her hair behind her ears in an attempt to make it more presentable, she went outside to greet him. By now, Lachlan was hard at work on the roof, and when she stepped out, Maura could hear the dull, rhythmic thud of tools against wood.

  “Mr. Campbell.” Maura bowed her head a little in greeting, offering him a small smile.

  The older man took off his riding gloves with careful, precise movements. He plucked at each finger of his gloves individually to ease them off his hands before tucking them away and greeting her too. “Miss Kelly. A pleasure, as always.”

  “Can I ask ye what brings ye here today, sir?”

  “I have business to attend to in Dunoon, but I couldn’t forgive myself if I let the opportunity to see yer face pass me by.” Malcolm’s easy smile made heat rise to Maura’s cheeks. She was unfamiliar with this kind of attention from a man, and although it made her uneasy, she could not deny the way her heart fluttered at the remark.

  “Mr. Campbell, ye’re too kind,” she whispered, unable to bring herself to meet his gaze. Malcolm chuckled at that, shaking his head.

  “Could I trouble ye for a fine drink and a moment of yer company, Miss Kelly?” he inquired. “I have a tiresome day ahead of me, and yer smile would be sure to make it a little easier.”

  It was then that Maura heard her younger siblings’ squeals as they raced around the side of the house. Isobel, the younger of the two, was in pursuit of her brother, and both were giggling loudly.

  The duo was infamous to any lodgers of the Inn for managing to forget that there might have been anyone else around them while they played; they were known to run into tables, chairs, and even people. Today was no different. Angus paid no mind to his surroundings as he ran out to the front of the Inn and barrelled straight into Malcolm Campbell.

  It was almost comedic to see the young boy run straight into his legs and bounce off him. He stumbled backward a good few paces before landing in the mud. For a moment, he just blinked up at Malcolm in surprise, as if he was seeing the man for the first time.

  In an instant, something changed about Malcolm’s face. That handsome smile twisted into an ugly grimace that Maura had never seen before on him as he stooped low and grabbed Angus’s arm, tugging him to sit up so the two were face-to-face.

  “Ye watch where ye’re going, boy!” he hissed, his voice so cold that it sent a chill down Maura’s spine. Before she could intervene, he used that tight grip on her younger brother’s arm to pull him to his feet, as the little boy yelped in pain.

  “You’re hurting me!” Angus whined, but Malcolm acted as though he’d said nothing.

  “Little boys such as yerself get into all kinds of trouble. Ye watch where ye’re going, or it won’t be yer arm someone hurts next time. Ye understand me?”

  “Mr. Campbell…” Maura began, stunned by this sudden shift in his attitude. As if he’d suddenly remembered that she was there, Campbell looked up quickly and dropped Angus’s arm.

  “Ye run along now,” he told Angus, who was rubbing his arm where the older man had grabbed it. “Ye mind yerself when you play out here, ye understand?”

  “Yessir.” Angus nodded quickly. With a quick look at Maura, he and Isobel scurried off back the way they’d come. Neither one was giggling now.

  She turned back to Malcolm in complete shock, but when she looked at him again, that menacing scowl had disappeared from his face without leaving any hint that it had ever been there. His expression was the one she had seen so often—that look of placid amiability.

  “Do ye not think that was a bit much, sir?” she asked quietly. Challenging a man as rich and powerful as Malcolm Campbell was probably an unwise idea, but Maura could not help herself.

  Before he could respond, though, the two heard a voice from the rooftop. It was the low, throaty tone of Lachlan, who had swung one leg over the roof and onto the ladder. “Sounds like there�
�s a wee problem?”

  He descended the ladder about halfway but simply hopped off the ladder before reaching the bottom. Mud splattered up his boots as he landed and spun to face Malcolm head-on.

  The strangest sensation overcame Maura in that moment, as she stood between the two men. For some reason—perhaps it was the way that Malcolm’s jaw slackened at the sight of him—but she couldn’t help the feeling that the two men knew each other somehow.

  “That’s a nasty lookin’ scar ye’ve got there,” Lachlan said quietly, motioning towards the thin scar that ran from Malcolm’s cheekbone towards his hairline. As Lachlan’s finger moved in his direction, Maura couldn’t help but notice that Malcolm jerked away from him, almost instinctively.

  For a few seconds, none of them spoke. There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence that befell the group, with the two men staring each other down as if they were preparing to draw swords. Finally, Malcolm spoke up.

  “I think I ought to be leaving Dunoon now, Miss Kelly.”

  His voice had shifted in tone quite dramatically. Before, there had been a note of haughty arrogance to his voice that came from his upbringing, but that was gone now. His voice was tight, controlled. It was as if he was…afraid.

  Before Maura could even respond, Malcolm had turned back to his horse, pulled his riding gloves on, and was on his way. Stunned by the sudden change in his manner, Maura turned to what she could only imagine was the source of this—Lachlan.

  Lachlan was watching the retreating figure. The corner of his mouth was curled into a smirk, and his eyes were narrowed a little, as if thinking hard about something. It really seemed as though he knew the other man.

  Malcolm disappeared over the hill’s crest that led on towards Dunoon, and with the other man gone, Lachlan seemed satisfied. He turned back to Maura, surprised to see her watching him suspiciously.

  “Do ye know Mr. Campbell?” she asked finally. “It seemed as though he recognized ye.”