Highlander's Tempting Stranger: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance Page 8

  Maura saw him to the door and waved him off as he headed on his way. It was odd, watching him walk off. He walked like a man without a purpose, a man who had no idea of the destination he was aiming for. He seemed content to simply follow the road and let it take him wherever it pleased.

  With the healer gone and the others outside, Maura was left alone with her thoughts. And, of course, in the silence, her thoughts turned to Lachlan. When she closed her eyes, she was no longer in the dining area of the Inn. She was in the cold bothy, and the rain was lashing against the roof above her.

  In the darkness, with her eyes closed like that, all she could sense was Lachlan. The warmth of Lachlan’s body pressed against hers, the touch of Lachlan’s hand against her skin, the pressure of Lachlan’s lips to her lips. She could smell the musk of his body and taste the hint of whiskey on his breath.

  As ashamed as she was to admit it even to herself (and she was ashamed to do so), Maura longed to be back on the floor of that dusty building. She wanted nothing more than to be there again, alone with him without a care in the world. In those few minutes where it had just been the two of them, nothing else had mattered. For the first time in a long time, she’d had no worries about money, or her family, or the Inn. Lachlan took all of that away, albeit only briefly.

  Far too briefly.

  Maura opened her eyes slowly, and she was back in the real world once more. The bothy was gone, Lachlan was gone, and all that was left was the faint memory of how he had made her feel. Until that moment, Maura had never known how good it could possibly feel to have another person devote their entire attention and body to you, but now that she’d had a taste of it, she longed for more.

  Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought of it, and she felt a surge of guilt rush through her body, replacing the wanton desire. Only a few feet above her, her poor mother was struggling so badly, and here she stood, fantasizing about her illicit meeting with Lachlan by the fireside.

  “Enough,” she told herself firmly. “That’s more than enough.”

  And with that, she decided it was time to get back to work.

  11

  With Edna still too weak to run the Inn, the responsibility soon fell to Maura and Lachlan. Relations between the two of them had grown no less awkward since they had returned to the Inn from their trip to find the healer, and the tension between them was almost palpable.

  Maura found herself unable to look at him without thinking about the kiss they had shared, the kiss that had very nearly turned into something much more serious. She wondered, if they had not been interrupted, how far would the two of them have gone together?

  It was becoming a serious problem for her. Whenever Lachlan spoke to her, she remembered how tender his voice had been back in the bothy. When his hand brushed against hers as he passed her something, it sent shivers down her spine, and she thought back to the way he had caressed her skin. Maura soon found herself craving his touch, desperate to feel the same way she had that night.

  As the days passed, Lachlan began to occupy more of her thoughts until he was consuming almost every waking moment. He was seeping into her dreams, too—whispering to her every time she closed her eyes. It came to the point where she was daydreaming about him while she was supposed to be working, and on more than one occasion, he had caught her doing just that.

  She had noticed a change come over him in the time since the night they had spent together in the bothy. It was almost as though that conversation had chipped away at a little of that tough, battle-hardened exterior.

  He was particularly fond of Angus and Isobel, which Maura had not expected. One afternoon stuck out in her mind in particular, when she’d found the two young children relentlessly bothering the man and his horse.

  “Up, I want to go up!”

  That shrill scream—Angus’s voice—was the noise that had first drawn Maura from the Inn to the yard in the back of the stables. That was where she had found the children with Lachlan, in front of the stable with Gairdh, who was already saddled. Isobel was sat atop him, straddling him as though she had belonged there her whole life, and Angus was wriggling around in Lachlan’s arms.

  Lachlan seemed more amused than anything with the situation. He obliged Angus happily and tossed the boy up onto the saddle behind his sister. Gairdh must have been the most patient beast to be put on Earth because, despite the screams of laughter, he stayed perfectly still, enduring the two children calmly.

  Isobel and Angus clung tightly to the reins, so they did not risk slipping and hurting themselves, and when it looked as though they were secure, Lachlan took the reins in one hand. He clicked his tongue, tugged gently on the reins, and began to lead Gairdh in a slow trot around the yard.

  Maura watched from a distance, perfectly content to peek around the corner of the Inn and watch the children having fun. They were too engrossed in their first horseback ride to even notice their elder sister standing there, but Lachlan saw her.

  He spotted her out of the corner of his eye, tucked by the side of the building. It was obvious she was trying not to be spotted, and it seemed like she just wanted to see the two children having fun without interrupting them. Their eyes met briefly across the grass, and for just a moment, they shared a tiny smile. It was secretive, cloaked in mystery, and they both knew that it meant something much deeper than anyone else could have assumed.

  The truth was, when their eyes met briefly, they were both thinking about that night in the bothy.

  Although Edna seemed to improve a little over the next few weeks, her condition was nowhere good enough that she could return to managing the Inn, which meant that her daughter’s future marriage was once again her primary concern. To Edna, the weeks past had only served as proof that their family needed financial security. This kind of security could only be found one way—through marriage to a wealthy man.

  And as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, Maura was beginning to accept that same fact. It was something she had tried to deny to herself for so long, but she could no longer put it off. As time wore on with no sign of Edna returning to full health, Maura began to feel as though she had no choice other than to accept Malcolm’s proposal. If her mother could no longer help to run the Inn, they would be left with little other option to find money.

  She found herself in a position she had never dreamed that she would ever be in: torn between two men. One of them was brash, loud, and frequently crass—she had seen him drinking with some of their patrons one evening and found herself wincing at some of his jokes. The other was well known and well respected and had more money than Maura could have ever dreamed of. But there was more to both of them, and she knew that.

  First, there was Lachlan. He was rough, quick to anger, and always seemed itching for a fight, but despite that, he’d shown a softer side to Maura on more than one occasion. Somewhere underneath that hardened exterior was a gentle man. A kind man.

  He cared for her family; that much was obvious. During quieter moments around the Inn, Lachlan often spoke fondly of Angus and Isobel, treating them as though they were his own younger siblings. He cared for Edna too; most days, he took the time to bring her food when she didn’t have the energy to come downstairs and sat with her to give her company while Maura worked in the Inn.

  Malcolm was the opposite. On the few occasions he had visited the Inn since he had proposed to Maura, his demeanor was far from the warmth that Lachlan exuded. When he visited, he would always do the same thing. He would invite Maura for a walk, or sit in the Inn with her, and they would talk. Mostly, they would talk about him.

  She noticed he had quite the appetite when it came to conversations about him. Whether the conversation was about his wealth, his estate, or his businesses, it did not matter—he could talk about any of them for hours. But when Maura steered the conversation towards her own family, he’d fall flat.

  He asked about her mother’s condition a few times, but it seemed to be more of a polite necessity rather than
genuine concern, and it did not take long for Maura to tire of the conversation. It was difficult to remain engaged in a topic when it was clear that the other person was thoroughly bored, she decided.

  And yet, with no sign of her mother’s recovery on the horizon, nor a miraculous sum of money suddenly materializing in her hands, Maura began to realize that she may not have much of a choice in the matter of her future husband.

  “Ye’re quiet tonight,” Lachlan commented, dropping into the seat at the kitchen table opposite her. “What are ye thinking about?”

  Maura was sat in the kitchen after they had closed up the Inn. On most nights, she would go to her room and fall asleep while Lachlan tended to the last business affairs downstairs, but on this night she did not. Instead, she was thinking hard about the predicament she found herself in. In fact, she’d been concentrating so hard that she hadn’t even heard him come through the door to the kitchen.

  Maura lifted her head up from where she was resting her chin in her hands and looked across at him. The candle on the table between them flickered, casting a weak glow over his features, and it reminded Maura of the way he’d looked in front of the fire during the night they’d spent together in the bothy.

  “The proposal.”

  “Ah.” Lachlan nodded. “The proposal.”

  The two fell into an uncomfortable silence after that. Lachlan was a fine man to go to for advice on many things, but the thought had never once crossed Maura’s mind to ask him for romantic advice.

  “What are ye thinking about then?” he prompted. “Have ye got yer answer yet?”

  “No,” Maura admitted. “I havenae got an answer for him.”

  “I thought he was the man yer ma always dreamed ye’d marry,” Lachlan pointed out. “The perfect rich gentleman.”

  “Those aren’t the only qualities I want in a man,” she whispered. It still felt a little foolish and childish to her even now, to admit that she wanted more than that from a marriage. “I don’t want money. I want love.”

  To her surprise, Lachlan didn’t laugh at her admission the way she had expected him to. Instead, he seemed genuinely interested in the idea of her choosing to marry out of love, rather than financial obligation.

  “And do ye think ye could love him?”

  Maura shrugged lamely at that. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  He considered her rather lukewarm response, nodding slowly. “Aye…I see that. Maybe. Does it nae feel like the kind of thing ye should just know?”

  Maura sighed heavily, picking at a loose thread on her skirt. “Aye. Ah suppose so.”

  Lachlan regarded her for a moment. She seemed to want his honest advice, and so he decided to grace her with it. “Don’t marry him.”

  Her head jerked up in surprise. She had not expected such a definitive answer from him. “Huh?”

  “Ah’m serious,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “I cannae abide by the idea of him marryin’ ye. He’s nae a good man.”

  “What do ye mean?” Marua narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Lachlan. Again, she was getting that same sense that his relationship with Malcolm went much further back than he was readily prepared to admit. “He’s nae a good man?”

  “Why are ye marryin’ him? Love?”

  “Money. Ye know this. Ma family needs—”

  “To be taken care of,” Lachlan finished for her. “Aye, ah do know that. An’ that’s why ah think this marriage is a foolish thought. Ye shouldnae be marrying him if ye’re trying to do right by yer family, Maura.”

  She stared at him in surprise, a familiar sense of frustration welling up inside her at his tone. Just like all the other times he talked about Malcolm, it seemed as though he was speaking from experience. Every other time she had talked to him about this, he had just brushed her off and told her that it was nothing. This time, she couldn’t help but wonder if his reaction would be any different. So, with that in mind, she decided to challenge him, just a little.

  “Why?” she asked simply.

  The question caught him off guard somewhat.

  “What?”

  “Why?” she repeated. “Why do ye nae think he’s good for ma family?”

  “Why can ye nae just trust me?” Lachlan snapped, automatically annoyed with her. “Why do ye think that I’ve got some other goal, like ah’m trying to cheat you?”

  “How can I trust you?!” Maura hissed back, equally as furious at his behavior. “Ye’ve given me nothin’—nay reason not to marry Malcolm other than ye don’t like him! Must that be the rule I live by now, to just do as ye say blindly?”

  Lachlan could not argue back at that. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He had given her no reason not to marry Malcolm, especially when the reasons to marry him were so persuasive. If he wanted to convince her not to marry him, he would have to tell her everything. The whole heart-wrenching tale of how he came to end up at her doorstep in the first place.

  “Ye’re right,” he admitted, sinking into the chair at the kitchen table. “Ah havenae been honest with ye. Ye have a right to know everything, right from the start.”

  The vulnerability that Maura had seen before in the bothy was back on his face again. It was as though someone had pulled a mask from his face, shedding the tough exterior and leaving a man who was raw and wounded underneath. She joined him at the kitchen table, taking the seat across from him, and for a few moments, she just sat there in silence while Lachlan gathered himself.

  And then, after steadying himself, he began to tell her the story. The whole story, right from the start.

  12

  “Ah told you of my family, aye? Of the famine?”

  “Aye.” Maura nodded. “Ah remember.”

  The story had been so difficult to tell that she did not wish to make him repeat it, and he seemed glad that he didn’t have to. “Ye remember the rich man I told ye of?”

  “The one who let—” Maura paused, stopping herself before she said too much and upset him. “Aye. I do.”

  “Ah never told ye his name, did ah?”

  Maura shook her head, although she had a horrible feeling she knew exactly who the rich man was. The man who callously allowed people to die, who turned his back to their suffering while he stayed comfortable within the walls of his own luxurious home.

  “Malcolm Campbell,” Lachlan growled. “His name was Malcolm Campbell.”

  To an extent, Maura had been expecting that revelation. Even so, hearing his name connected with such a horrible tale, filled with so much suffering and grief, sent a shiver down her spine.

  Lachlan let that fact sit with her a while before he continued on with the story. There was more to the tale, after all. “Ma sister, Susanna, worked for him as a maid. Ma parents thought it was a good job for an unmarried woman such as her, an’ had she worked for any other man, they would have been right.”

  “What happened?” Maura asked, even though she was not certain she wanted to know the answer.

  Before he responded, Lachlan got to his feet and collected a bottle of whiskey from the back shelf, along with two glasses. When he came back to the table, he set out the glasses and poured them both a measure of whiskey. “I’ve nae heard a good story that wasnae accompanied by a whiskey.”

  He took his seat again and raised his glass, knocking it against hers with a gentle clink—the only sound in the otherwise silent building. He took a sip of his drink, and Maura mirrored his movements with her own glass. The whiskey felt hot, burning her tongue and the back of her throat. But then, after that initial sting gave way to a pleasant warmth that slid down her throat to the pit of her stomach, she settled back into her seat.

  “Campbell’s wife—ah forget the poor lass’s name—gave birth to a girl. Now ye see, many men might be disappointed with that, on account of them expecting a son. But his wife was young herself; cannae have been much older than ye. So any other man in his position would have just hoped the next one would be a son. But Campbell? Nay, nae him.”

/>   Lachlan paused to take a drink, and this time he finished the liquid in his glass, tipping it all out in one go. He poured another for himself, cleared his throat, and then continued.

  “See ‘fore the wee bairn was born, he was the most wonderful husband a woman could have dreamed of. He showered that lass in gifts, gave her anythin’ she dreamed of. Perhaps he thought it’d buy him a son. But it didn’t work, and when she bore him a wee lass, he turned colder than a winter’s night. She may as well have been dead to him. When he saw it was a daughter, he just turned away and left the room.”

  Maura had heard stories of Malcolm’s first wife. All she’d known of her was that she was young, and the two had been married little more than a year at the time of her death, shortly after the birth of their baby. The facts beyond that were far less clear to her, though.

  “She wasnae fit for childbirth, poor thing,” Lachlan continued. She couldnae gather up her strength after, an’ she died less than a week after givin’ birth. By the time the healers arrived there, it was too late for her. An’ without her mother, the wee bairn died too, not long after. They shared the same grave.”

  Another glass of whiskey disappeared down Lachlan’s throat before he poured out his third. Maura took another sip of her own drink and shook her head when she was offered the bottle. “Then what happened?”

  “Oh,” Lachlan chuckled darkly, “that’s when yer dearly betrothed—”

  “He’s nae ma betrothed.”

  “Yer soon-to-be betrothed,” Lachlan corrected himself. “Tha’s when he showed his true colors to the world. Or at least, to the staff who tended the poor lass ‘fore she died.”