Claimed by a Scottish Lord (22 page)

He pulled her into a kiss with the other hand, inviting her passion. Passion was safe. It asked for everything yet nothing at all. Passion was merely physical.

Thunder shook the rafters. Outside, the storm continued to blow, and he looked over her head toward the windows. Rain continued to beat against the glass but without the same intensity as before. ―The rain is moving east.‖

Toward the sunrise and a new day. He leaned his cheek against her hair, then kissed a warm trail down her temple to her throat.

Their breathing ragged, he joined his mouth to hers, and seized her lips in a long, fierce kiss, and soon it didn‘t matter that the storm had moved away and would leave a starlit night.

He was moving between her legs, indulging her senses, and she did not think about anything else at all.

She was lost. But so was he.

Chapter 12

T
he ride to Stonehaven remained cloaked in a wet grayish mist that twined around trees and blanketed the glens and rocky slopes. Dawn had barely touched the mists by the time they reached the stable.

Aware of the man who rode behind her, his hands loosely holding the reins, Rose was almost sad to glimpse a structure rise from the sea of waspish vapor. Ruark dismounted in front of the stable and reached up to lift Rose from the saddle.

Even through the wool of his cloak protecting her, she felt the warmth of his hands around her waist. Her gown remained damp from the rains the day before, and the chill of the morn had done little to warm her.

He held her to him and she lifted her chin. The thick morning mist shrouding the countryside had wet his hair.

―Are you all right?‖ he queried.

Neither she nor Ruark had spoken since leaving the lodge. The shroud of fog made her feel more isolated, but not alone. ―Aye.‖ She shivered. ―I am merely cold and wish to change.‖

Two groomsmen ran out of the stable. Ruark greeted the men and handed off Loki‘s reins.

―Rub him down and feed him,‖ he said, placing a guiding hand beneath Rose‘s elbow and turning her up the hill.

She could feel the groomsmen‘s eyes on her back and, pulling the cloak tighter about her shoulders, she kept her head down to better watch the path. ―They all think I tried to escape,‖ she said. ―And that . ‖

―We spent the night together and that I ravished you? I dislike informing you, love, but most already think that.‖

Wet leaves muffled their footsteps. ―I do not regret what happened between us,‖ she said, momentarily lost to the tempest swirling around her heart.

―Your words have eased my conscience, love.‖

She stole a glance at him. He
did
look quite at his ease, she thought, somewhat perturbed that he could return to Stonehaven unchanged for what had occurred between them.

―I care naught what anyone thinks of me or you, Rose.‖

―You are laird. ‘Tis not you they judge.‖

―I
am
laird. My opinion of you is all that counts.‖

She frowned up at his profile, but he remained looking straight ahead. ―Truly your conceit is enormous even for a laird.‖

She saw one corner of his mouth slip upward. ―Aye, ‘tis,‖ he agreed, slanting her a rakish glance that would bring ruin to Aphrodite herself. He drew her around. ―But that does not change the facts. I am still laird, love. And you are still mine.‖

She caught her palms against his chest. His fingers dug into her upper arms. Then gentled.

―And I have something to say before we go inside, Rose. I mean to say it now—‖

She pressed a fingertip to his lips. His features were lost in the shadows of the mist but she could feel tension inside him. Since the moment they‘d left the lodge, he‘d been silent in a restless manner that told her something weighed heavily in his thoughts. She feared what he might say.

She had made her mind up to return to her father. She was finished running from her past. She would not allow him to risk his brother‘s life for anything they might have shared last night. Not for her.

―I know what you are going to say . ‖

He pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. ―Do you? I doubt it.‖

He lowered his head and brought his mouth close to hers. A door suddenly slammed somewhere in the mist ahead of them and, before Rose could respond, before she could think of what to say, Mrs. Duff appeared, clucking toward them like an angry hen. Her bulk swayed with her stride.

Dropping away, Rose turned to face the woman, unsure if the anger in Mrs. Duff‘s demeanor was directed at her or the master of the manse.

―Half the staff has been awake awaiting your return, Ruark. Worried sick we‘ve been.‖

She turned the force of her gaze on Rose. Ruark spoke first. ―Before you think the worst of her, Mary, know that she was with me last night.‖

Rose felt the blood leave her face. Mary‘s eyes narrowed. ―And are ye tellin‘ me ye ravished the girl, too? Her bein‘ helpless and under our protection?‖

―I am telling you, her absence was not her fault. And that will be the end of it. Now . she needs a hot bath and sleep.‖

He reached for Rose only to find that Mary stepped between them and removed his hand from her arm. ―Aye, she does. But you‘ll no‘ be the one takin‘ her, Ruark Kerr. Off with ye, now. Ye can order your own bath, too.‖ She waved off Stonehaven‘s laird and Rose held her breath, afraid of what he would say to Mary. ―Come, lass.‖ Mary tugged Rose forward. ―Let me get ye cleaned up and out of those damp clothes lest you catch your death.‖

Just before she entered the portico, Rose stole one last glance over her shoulder at Ruark standing in the wooded path, his gaze fixed on her, the feel of him still lingering in the soreness between her thighs.

Deflected by her own emotions, Rose could not help the softening of her lips as she turned away, remembering their night together, and, oh, so much more.

―Aye, I‘ve seen that look in many a young maid‘s eye,‖ Mary said, catching the flicker of awareness in her eyes. ―And naught good ever came of it, Lady Roselyn. I assure you.‖

T
he forecourt bustled with activity. Because of the early hour, Rose had not expected to see so many already awake as she and Mrs. Duff emerged outside the walls of the courtyard. Rose followed the housekeeper down a gravel path that wound around a floral border stretching across the south side of the house and on past the kitchen and dovecotes, all the while listening to Mrs. Duff chat. Over the course of the last few days, Rose had accepted life at Stonehaven with no complaint. Breakfast was served at eight, tea at eleven, lunch at one, and so on and so forth. The evenings, she dined in her chambers and later she read in bed. True to his word, Ruark had allowed her free rein of the library and gardens.

―Do I have permission to send letters to the abbey?‖ Rose asked.

―I see no reason why ye can no‘.‖

She had written to Friar Tucker, Jack, Sister Nessa, and Mrs. Simpson. She had written to Friar Tucker to tell him that she was well. To the others, she had been more succinct and told them who she was, apologizing for her lack of honesty and asking them to forgive her.

Ruark had left for Jedburgh two days ago and she expected she would be summoned any day now.

The housekeeper stopped and turned, nearly causing Rose to collide with her, and making her wonder if she had said something to displease the woman.

―Ruark told us we were to grant ye every courtesy, and so I will,‖ the housekeeper said, a hint of steel—though not unkindness—underlying her tone. ―Some here resent ye for being who ye are, but I learned long ago no‘ to judge a person by the blood running through his veins. After all, we are no‘ brought into this world with a choice of parents. So fer that you‘ll be findin‘ me more tolerant than the rest.‖

Thank you
seemed incongruous.

―Now . ‖ Mrs. Duff brushed her hands down the apron pinned to her ample bosom, taking Rose‘s measure, as if to say that would be all she‘d speak on the matter. She pointed to the side gate. It hung ajar and opened to a wooded path leading into a grove of trees. ―That be the way to Mrs. Fortier‘s cottage. Ye can no‘ miss it.‖

With that declaration, Rose was left standing in the middle of the path as Mrs. Duff strode up the incline toward a whitewashed outbuilding. From the pungent aroma of hops and yeast in the air, Rose guessed the place to be the brew house.

Not another person was around.

Suddenly uncertain, Rose glanced back at the large stone manse settled like a throne amid the jeweled landscape. Stonehaven was even larger and grander than she‘d first imagined upon her arrival. So different was Ruark‘s world from the one in which she‘d been raised, she thought.

Mrs. Fortier‘s small cottage sat in a glade of dappled sunlight, surrounded by a white picket fence, the kind used to keep rabbits and other critters at bay. Rose eased through the wooden gate and relatched it behind her, looking around her at the earthen mounds overflowing with wintergreen, yellow dock and wild carrot mixed among a colorful array of flowers.

She found Mrs. Fortier at the back in the garden, a red scarf on her head as she knelt among the flowers. She looked up and saw Rose.

Rose ran to her to help her to her feet. ―My lady.‖ Mrs. Fortier dipped when she stood.

―Please, Mrs. Fortier,‖ Rose said. ―You must be careful.‖

Mrs. Fortier‘s hand went to her chest. ―Heavens, every time I see ye, ye give my heart a start. Please call me Anaya.‖

―I wanted to meet you. You served my mother.‖

―I did, my lady. She was a kind one, she was.‖

Anaya brought Rose inside. She shared the room with two others who worked in Stonehaven‘s kitchens. Rose sat at a small circle table and Anaya made tea. They spoke for a while as Rose asked about Kirkland Park, what it was like, what her mother had been like, questions she had never been able to ask anyone. ―Did you know my father?‖

Shaking her head, she looked down at her hands, clearly too frightened to speak about Lord Hereford. ―Nay, mum . ‖

Rose laid a palm over the other woman‘s hand. ―I am in need of a companion. You are widowed. I wondered . I am hoping perhaps you might want to accompany me when I leave here.‖

Anaya grasped Rose‘s hands. ―I loved your mam, I did. I loved her enough to protect your secret and never betray ye. I will be accompanying ye to Jedburgh as a witness as is required. But Lord Roxburghe has given me the chance at a good life here. I ask that ye no‘ take it from me, lass.‖

Rose peered around her at the comfortable setting and understood what it meant to feel safe. ―Nay, I would not.‖

Chapter 13

M
cBain, Jason, and Anaya Fortier arrived with Rose to the royal burgh of Jedburgh three days later, where she was sequestered in a remote red sandstone abbey on the banks of the Jed Water. All she knew was that Ruark was here and that her father was also in Jedburgh.

A single torch threw shadows against the stone walls as she paced the narrow confines of the room. She was vaguely aware of the soft swish of her patterned silk gown, the pad of leather slippers on the cold stone floor, and a bodice that was too tight to be comfortable when her wont was to breathe deeply.

Rose had been taken aback when Mrs. Duff laid out the dress yesterday morning before her departure. Rose knew nothing of ladies‘ fashions, and she had not thought herself capable of loving such a dress, with its beautifully decorated skirts and beribboned underclothes. ‘Twas a silly vainglorious sentiment to think a dress held the capacity to transform her into something she was not, but Ruark had been correct when he had said that she should not be a sheep when walking into the wolf‘s den. Today, she felt every inch the earl‘s aristocratic daughter.

A knock sounded on the door in the other room. She had been expecting the summons since breakfast hours ago. She stopped her pacing. Making a determined effort to steady her breath, she seated herself upon the settee provided for the occupant‘s comfort. The worn piece of furniture that surely hailed from King James‘s day was the only luxury in the sparse room that contained a table and a narrow bed. She folded her hands in her lap in an act of forced serenity, as she heard the squeak of hinges as Anaya opened the door. Friar Tucker stepped into the dimly lit room. ―Rose.‖ No one had ever been so welcome.

They met halfway. He caught her against him and pressed her cheek against his shoulder, gently holding his hand to her head. His wooden rosary rattled at his waist.

―Rose,‖ he whispered. ―I didn‘t think I‘d have a chance to speak to you.‖

―Do you know what is happening?‖

―Aye. Someone will be arriving momentarily. We haven‘t much time.‖

He enclosed her hands in his much larger ones and sat with her on the settee, the action reminiscent of every other time he had sat her down for comfort‘s sake. ―Is Lord Roxburghe safe?‖ she asked. ―Is he well? Have you seen him?

―Aye, lass. He is in the great hall.‖

He had been gone a week. What had happened during that time? Only her imagination could guess.

―These uncertain times have put us all in jeopardy to be sure, Rose. There are those among Roxburghe‘s own clan who want to use this moment as a rallying cry to continue their fight with the English. It is enough no blood has yet been shed. I must know, Rose.‖ He tightened his hold on her hands. ―Did he treat you . well?‖

She didn‘t want to talk about herself when this was already too painful to bear, when she had so many questions to ask. Would her father release Jamie Kerr? But something in the tenor of Friar Tucker‘s voice pulled her focus to his face. ―Aye, Father. But I am ready to have done with today.‖

More than anything, she hated the vulnerability that came with her next words. ‘Twas Kirkland Park her father had always wanted. Not her, she knew. Yet, some part of her, the young girl she had once been, wanted to believe he could not be the monster everyone painted. Someone would come to her and say that ‘twas all a mistake.
Your memories of him are true.

―What of my father? What is he like?‖

―He would foment the rift as best he could in the Kerr clan. He is not much different than he ever was when it comes to getting what he wants.‖