Five

Daphne rose with the dawn, her mind too active to allow her to sleep. Norris was sprawled on his back, only his lower body covered by the bedding. His chest was completely in her view, and the morning light illuminated the red in his chest hair. She found her chemise and hurried into it to fend off the chill of early autumn. Her stockings were on the floor, each laying on either side of the chair, and she blushed as she recalled how much she’d enjoyed the piece of furniture. Once she’d tied her boots, she realized her dress was neatly draped over the table.

Gahan certainly took his duty seriously, it seemed, for she doubted there was anyone else who would dare enter Norris’s private chamber while he was entertaining. Of course, it couldn’t have been the first time. That knowledge stung, tearing through her fragile happiness.

Foolish…

For sure she was acting the fool to be so tenderhearted, but she seemed to have no control over her emotions. She liked knowing she’d woken up in Norris’s bed, and part of her enjoyed knowing the information would be all over the castle before the morning meal was finished. Father Peter would have a great deal to say to her.

Nonetheless, Daphne left with a smile on her lips because she was going to enjoy the days until she had to face the consequences of her actions. She had no doubt that day would come. Norris Sutherland would wed only a bride who came with a dowry, and she had none. However, she did have courage, and there was no way the cook was going to run her above stairs to do naught but wait to warm Norris’s bed.

There were retainers in the hallway. They stared at her, one reaching for the corner of his bonnet in respect and stopping midway because his companion failed to offer her any deference. She swept by them and went down the stairs until she reached the bottom floor. Norris’s chamber was in a different tower than the one she’d used. This one was farther back in the castle for more protection. Along the walls were large paintings of the Sutherland earls and countesses.

The hallway opened into a large armory. There were full suits of armor and at least two hundred breastplates alone. It was an amazing display of wealth. Pikes, axes, and swords were arranged in racks, their deadly tips shiny with oil to keep the metal from rusting. No one was set to guard the room, because it was deep in the personal tower. As she walked through it and opened the doors, she heard the sounds of the great hall.

Plenty of people noticed her now. The conversation died momentarily before rising once more. Eyes narrowed, and many people pointed. She watched some of the maids shaking their heads; no doubt they’d had to endure the cook’s ill temper. To be employed as the head cook at a castle such as Dunrobin was a high position. One sought by many. The cook wouldn’t be happy with her for angering his noble employer. Well, she wasn’t very pleased with his accusations, either.

Daphne held her head high. If she’d wanted to cower and take shelter under Norris’s wing, she would have waited for him to wake. That had never been her way.

She walked through the hall, heading toward the hearth where porridge was being ladled into bowls for the morning meal. The retainers were being served, but the animosity coming from the maids warned her not to expect the same. Something else she was not unaccustomed to. It mattered little. But she did admit to having compassion for them; likely the cook had been unpleasable for the rest of the evening. The Mother Superior at the convent had been a laird’s daughter, and as such, she often took her frustrations out on the novices within her care. Daphne had been lower than the newest novice and the last to finish any time there was additional work.

Daphne reached for a wooden bowl and waited her turn in front of the woman serving the porridge. She hesitated before dropping a ladle full of thick oat-and-barley cereal into Daphne’s bowl. There were small bits of fruit in it too, and the heat warmed her hands.

She’d learned to appreciate the simple things while at the convent, a skill that had served her well once she’d returned to MacLeod land. It hadn’t been so long ago, and yet it seemed ages. Maybe she should be the one accusing Norris of bewitching her, for the man seemed to have overwhelmed her senses completely. Now, even time felt affected.

She walked toward the benches, and the women sitting there made it clear she wasn’t welcome to sit among them. Several scooted over to fill up more space between them and their friends to ensure Daphne understood their message. Well, if that was the way they wanted to be, she’d have to begin wearing her MacLeod arisaid again. If she was going to be treated like an outsider, she would look the part.

Scorn brings naught but bitterness…

She sat down in the far corner of the hall. Shame colored her cheeks, for the words rising from her memory had been spoken by an older nun who had not chosen the life of dedication to the Church but had been born a third daughter and been promised to Christ on the day of her birth. Sister Naomi had been content, though, and a true friend. Fate had dictated that the girl grow old never knowing the delights Daphne had shared with Norris, never feeling fine bedding against her skin or tasting a marzipan tart, even if her hands ached from preparing it.

Daphne scolded herself for being so irritable. True, Norris would most likely send her back to MacLeod land, but Saer had promised her a place. A home. Tears burned her eyes, making her even more frustrated with her fickle emotions. It should please her to know she had someplace to go.

“I hear she had naught… penniless…”

“But to steal?”

“I hear the laird already beat her once. Her back was black and blue.”

“And still he brought her here? I’d mind me tongue if I were ye. She has him under her spell…”

Daphne cringed. Telling herself to ignore the whispers wasn’t working very well. The muscles along her neck tightened as she tried to keep her gaze on her breakfast instead of glaring at the women discussing her. Every castle had gossip. That knowledge didn’t give her any comfort when she looked up and caught the harsh stares of several women. Her appetite vanished, but her pride refused to let her show them she was frightened by their judgment. She would endure well enough.

The tension was thick enough to cut. Her belly was knotted from it, but she forced herself to lift her spoon and swallow the porridge. The single bite felt like a small rock going down her throat, and she had to drag in a deep breath before digging into her bowl for a second spoonful.

“Ye lack the basic instincts of a child when it comes to safeguarding yerself.” Norris was furious, though his voice was low. He scooped her up off the bench from behind, and the bowl of porridge went rolling across the table.

“Put me down—”

She might as well have saved her breath, for Norris wasn’t listening to her. He carried her out of the hall, and it erupted into hurried conversation.

“Damn ye, Norris! Ye shall nae simply haul me about like some goose ye have decided to make yer pet!”

“Ye are me pet,” he snarled as he deposited her on her feet and captured her wrist.

She gasped, so outraged, words failed her. Norris took advantage of her shock, tugging her up a flight of stairs and another and a third with a pace that kept her struggling to keep up. She followed because she’d not have the beast tossing her over his shoulder again. He grabbed a door handle and swung open a heavy oak door, pulling her through.

“We require privacy,” he growled, and she turned her head to stare at the retainers following them. Isla and Cam were also there, along with Asgree and two more maids. Her face flamed scarlet before the door shut to allow her some dignity.

“I warned ye nae to eat anything Isla did nae bring to ye. The damned cook has every reason to want to see ye suffer now.”

“I was served from the same pot as others,” she said, defending herself.

Norris was wearing only his kilt, shirt, and boots. His blond hair was messy, the strands obviously not brushed.

“It would take only a moment for a maid to slip something into her ladle below the table.”

Her temper sizzled so hot she thought it might consume her. But the fury dancing in his eyes made her throw up her hands, and she desperately tried to maintain her hold on rational thinking.

“Why does it matter so much to ye, Norris? Yer father does nae want me here. Neither do yer people. Why can ye nae understand that I would nae willingly birth a child that must be branded a bastard?”

“I never said our child would be illegitimate, only that I would nae allow ye to risk yer life to be rid of it.” He shook his head. “Do ye think that because I am a man I do nae know women die from drinking those concoctions? That I have nae heard of the suffering they endure before death takes them away from the pain? Do ye think I value ye so little, that taking ye to me bed means I expect ye to risk such a thing because yer body is only a plaything for me amusement?”

He’d closed the distance between them and cupped the sides of her face. In his eyes, she witnessed a torment that tore through her anger. She’d frightened him in a personal way she would never have dared to believe she held the power to do. And it shamed her. Shamed her because hurting him hurt her.

She placed her hands on his chest, needing to soothe him, but he stiffened. His expression became guarded.

“Ye’ll stay here so I do nae have to worry what ye are up to.”

“Here?”

He stepped back and extended his hand. “Me mother’s solar.”

“But…”

He made a slashing motion with his hand. “Ye’ll stay here, Daphne MacLeod, because I have decided it will be so.”

He was striding toward the door before she could think of what to say, his kilt pleats swaying with his quick pace. There was anger in every motion he made. His knuckles turned white when he grasped the door handle and pulled it open. Men had to scramble out of his way, because he didn’t pause as he strode past.

She should have been furious with him. Her pride should have rebelled. Instead, she was ashamed for causing him worry.

Damn her for a fool.

***

“What is yer fancy piece doing in the lady’s solar?” Lytge Sutherland sat behind his desk while Norris stood before it.

“Being kept safe from meddling,” Norris replied.

His father raised an eyebrow at his tone, but Norris didn’t offer any apology.

“The way I hear it, the girl meddled with me cook and upset the man plenty. I like his cooking and do nae need him nursing a bruised ego.”

“Nae for a woman ye consider unworthy of me, ye mean.”

His father frowned and pointed at him. “Everything ye have came from yer ancestors making good decisions. No man in this line has taken a wife that came with naught.”

“She’s a MacLeod, sister to the new laird.”

“A laird that has yet to secure the allegiance of his clan,” Lytge shot back. “A clan that is already ours.”

“Let her be, Father.”

His father sat back in his chair. “Ye sound like ye are warning me, lad. Why?”

“Because she is important to me,” Norris answered. “Very important. It would grieve me to argue with ye, but I will over Daphne. Let her be.”

The older man peered at him through narrowed eyes. Norris reached up, tugging on his bonnet to offer his father the respect due to him before turning to leave. It wasn’t in his nature to disagree with his sire, but Daphne unleashed things inside him beyond his control. It unsettled him, because a laird had to be as solid as stone when it came to his sense of judgment, not in jeopardy of being manipulated. Some men would see Daphne’s effect on him as a prelude to being a woman’s puppet.

“I wonder if the lass values ye so highly.”

Norris turned around to meet his father’s pointed gaze. “Well, does she? Ye keep having to carry her to yer chamber. If the lass does nae return yer regard, what use is she?”

Norris slowly grinned, earning him a grunt from his father as the older man shook his head.

“Ye are bruising the feelings of yer clan members for her when there are plenty of yer own kinswomen to dally with,” the earl continued.

“The cook was being presumptuous to accuse Daphne of thievery.”

His father nodded but also appeared unmoved. “Yet that attitude keeps our food free of poison. No small feat in times like these. His father was head cook before him, and his grandfather before that. There is none more loyal. The man also keeps the kitchens running smoothly and on a budget—something to remember since ye sent yer royal-blooded bride away and have left Dunrobin without a mistress to see to the books.”

“Daphne has been educated and is practiced in the skills of running a large house.”

His father slapped the table. “She has no dowry, something ye can demand from a bride.” He pointed at a small stack of letters sitting to his right. “There are offers for ye, me son. Ones that include lasses eager to warm yer bed and fill the coffers while they do it.”

“I run our land well enough to ensure there is a steady stream of income,” Norris remarked, refusing to look at the stack of letters. The knowledge that they were there made him want to cast them into the hearth. “Do nae negotiate another bride for me.”

“It is nae like ye to be so disrespectful,” his father grumbled.

“We’re in private, Father, and I mean no disrespect, but I am nae interested in wedding a stranger.”

“Then perhaps ye should go to court,” Lytge suggested. “With a new young king on the throne, there is bound to be a good crop of young heiresses there.”

“No doubt.”

However, he wasn’t interested. Norris tugged on his cap to show respect and left his father’s study. He paused in the hallway, considering the stairs that led up to the lady’s solar. The day was only beginning, and the sounds of training came up from the yard. He hadn’t been bragging about managing the estate well. They profited each season, but it took diligence.

His father’s question needled him. It was true he continued to chase Daphne. His cock twitched in response, but for once he ignored it. Would she choose him? Come to him if there was another option? Part of him needed to know. Too damn much so.

***

“Ye should nae have gone below stairs alone, mistress,” Isla scolded softly. The girl was busy pulling the covers off the furniture in the solar. “The laird is terribly worried something will befall ye. He had Gahan select several men to be under Cam’s direction to make sure no one trifles with ye.”

“Except for himself, that is.”

Isla surprised her by aiming a knowing stare at her. The girl looked more knowledgeable than Daphne might have expected.

“Are ye sure ye want to look that gift horse in the mouth?” Isla muttered. “Ye sounded right pleased last night.”

Oh, she had been… and so had Norris…

Her cheeks burned crimson as she contemplated the fact that Isla had heard her.

Isla returned to pulling sheets off furniture. “Men can be fickle, especially ones with position and title. They do nae have to look far for a willing partner to tumble. Nor would ye with yer fair looks.”

Daphne stood up and began helping. The work helped dispel her dark humor, and soon she was happily anticipating the next discovery. The solar was richly appointed. There were chairs with padded seats and tables. A full harp was under one sheet, along with mandolins and even a set of virginals. The mandolins were potbellied style with intricate borders painted around their flat faces. The virginals had gleaming white and black keys, and each rested on four ornately carved legs. There were boxes of music and even a music stand to complete it all.

Next came several lace-making pillows. They both gasped when they opened the boxes of silk floss to be used in making the finery. There were bobbins in wood and silver, and even four glass ones. What stunned Daphne was the gold and silver thread stored openly on the bookcase near the window where the light would be best for making lace.

“I heard the late countess was a grand maker of lace and other finery,” Isla said softly. “These were her things, but she had no daughters to teach her skill to.”

There was a trace of longing in Isla’s voice. When Daphne turned to look at the girl, she was gently stroking one of the glass bobbins. As the earl’s bastard daughter, the countess might have dictated Isla’s education. But since the mistress of Dunrobin hadn’t taken any interest in her husband’s bastard daughter, Isla had not been educated as a lady. Such was often the fate of well-blooded bastards.

“I will show ye, if ye like.”

Isla looked up, startled. She was shaking her head in a moment. “Oh… I could nae. Ye’re me mistress, and such fine things are nae for me fingers.”

“No, I am nae so different than ye, and I prefer we were friends, for ye are right. I should enjoy the time that I have Norris’s attention. Fate will no doubt intercede soon enough.” Daphne picked up one of the pillows and began to push pins into it. “For the moment, let us enjoy being able to pass the day like princesses.”

***

Daphne rubbed her neck, but it was still stiff. By late afternoon, her hands ached from working the bobbins, but delicate lace was growing inch by inch. The pillow was the easiest to use, for you simply turned it round and round, moving the pins. It was detailed work, requiring focus to make sure every thin thread was moved at the correct time.

Isla was beaming. She fingered the lace she’d made, her face shining with triumph. “I never thought to make something so fine.”

“Ye have a natural talent and a keen mind,” Daphne offered, standing up. Her back was tight, but the ache was nothing compared to the way she’d felt after the beating Morrell Comyn had inflicted upon her.

She strolled around the solar, pausing at the windows. Although the sun was setting, the men still trained in the yard, and the sound of their wooden swords drifted up through the open windows. The evening air was chilly, and Isla began to close the glass windows, doing it gently to ensure she didn’t crack one of the costly panes.

The sound of horses rose above the clacking of the wooden weapons, and Daphne looked down to see Norris riding into the inner yard. He truly was a master of the stallion he rode, though the animal still tossed its head. Norris reached up to rub its sweaty neck and then cast a look up at her. Their gazes connected, and she felt her belly twist. So quickly, so immediately.

Pure response.

So far above him she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw his lips twitch up into a smile. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet, making her want to lower herself like some lady spying her gallant suitor arriving. Maybe she should greet him as such and await his courtship.

Ye mean his seduction…

“Supper will be on the table later, and the earl does enjoy having his son and guests at the high table. There are always clàrsach players.”

How long had it been since she’d heard the Celtic harp, known as the clàrsach, played? Too long. However, that wasn’t what made her interested in attending supper. It was her gallant suitor.

“I believe I’d like to bathe.”

Isla grinned, flashing her teeth in her excitement. She rubbed her hands together and opened the door to the stairs. The sight of the retainers standing there made Daphne hesitate, but anticipation was brewing inside her.

“The mistress is to bathe.”

They reached for the corner of their bonnets and moved out of the way. It was unnerving the way they followed her, insisting on going into the bathhouse to inspect it before allowing her enter. Asgree appeared, slightly flushed from hurrying, and shooed them away. They went only as far as the doorway and turned their backs.

“Ye’ll have to become accustomed to such things so long as ye are important to the earl’s son,” the head of house muttered. She snapped her fingers, and two maids began the process of filling a tub.

“Disrobe yer mistress.”

Isla was only too happy to assume the duty. The two maids working with the tub shot her envious looks as she carefully began to unlace and help Daphne from her dress. Asgree watched the process with an experienced eye, merely having to point, and her staff understood her. The woman was an accomplished head of house. Isla removed Daphne’s clothing and handed each piece to another maid, who would in turn drape it over a rack.

But when her underdrawers were removed, Asgree snapped her fingers, and the maid brought them to her.

Daphne blushed scarlet. “I’m nae bleeding.”

Asgree didn’t take her word for it. “I doubted ye would be,” she remarked after handing the intimate garment back to the maid. “Ye are too thin. I’ve seen it before. Many a lass suffers such near the end of winter when there has been little on the table for too many months, and their clothing is sagging. A year in a convent would no doubt account for how thin ye are.”

Daphne sat down in the tub, trying to relax as Isla began to wash her. The girl wouldn’t let her take the cake of soap from her hand, and Asgree brought over a rare sea sponge to use on her skin.

“Ye have much to learn about being waited on,” Asgree teased her gently.

“A wasted effort, since I do nae plan to have need of such knowledge once I return to MacLeod land.” For a moment, tears stung her eyes, because she doubted she would ever wed. What man would want her? The disobedient daughter of a defeated laird and one who had defied the king, as well.

“Fate likes to make up her own mind,” Asgree instructed her gently. “None of us know for sure what tomorrow will bring.”

For a moment, a tiny flicker of hope warmed her. A vision of her belly large with a babe sprung up in spite of her warnings not to allow herself to daydream. She did desire children.

Norris’s children.

Once again the thought was simply there, in defiance of her better judgment. The vision continued, with Norris reaching out to rub her swollen belly with a cocky grin on his lips. But tenderness in his eyes.

“Well, I do find meself agreeing with ye, Asgree. Tomorrow is something we know naught about.” Daphne stood up to let the cold air distract her from the daydream. It hit her wet skin, sending gooseflesh spreading across her limbs and puckering her nipples.

Asgree snapped her fingers, but Isla had already brought toweling forward. The head of house went to a small wardrobe and used one of the keys hanging on the ring at her waist to open it. The keys were the symbol of her position at Dunrobin and responsibility, for if the account books didn’t balance, Asgree would be the one called on to answer for any shortages. There were locked cabinets and chests that held items of value, such as the wardrobe she opened now. Inside were robes, some of them made of expensive fabrics, but any cloth cost a fair amount of coin, even wool. There were no doubt plenty of sheep on Sutherland land, but shearing took time. So did carding and spinning and weaving. Those who produced cloth had to eat.

“This will keep ye warm until we decide what ye shall wear to supper.” Asgree selected a gold-colored robe, and Isla helped hold it up so Daphne might slip her arms easily into the sleeves. It was lined in something so soft, she looked down and gasped when she realized it was silk.

“When the mistress was alive, she enjoyed fine things,” Asgree said with a touch of nostalgia in her voice. “I believe ye shall find something among her things to wear. Velvet never goes out of fashion.”

Asgree didn’t give her time to argue. She pointed toward the door, and Isla encouraged her to come along. The robe fell to her ankles, keeping her warm as she climbed the stairs to the lady’s solar once more. This time Asgree pointed to the next floor, and once they reached it, the head of house fitted one of her keys into the door to open it.

“The mistress insisted on private chambers once she’d conceived.” There was a note of sadness in Asgree’s voice. “Such likely accounted for the fact that she had only one child, for she never returned to the master’s chambers for more than a few hours.”

It was the way for many marriages, and yet it sounded sad. Lying beside Norris through the night had been satisfying on a level Daphne had never known before. The maids lit the candles, which were all placed in the candelabras as if the mistress might return at any moment. When they pulled off the sheets covering the furniture, there were no puffs of dust. Every inch of the chamber was spotless and as silent as a tomb.

“There are dresses aplenty in here,” Isla murmured, as excited as a child on May Morning. “Me mother told me stories of the velvet and silks, all trimmed with lace made by the mistress.”

There came the jingle of keys as Asgree unlocked the wardrobes in the chamber. They were set around the circular room, one wardrobe between the windows so one might turn all the way around and always be staring at one of them. They were arranged by season, as well. The lighter colors were obviously the summer clothing, so Daphne turned to find the darker-toned fabrics. Asgree was there, gently searching through the hanging garments.

Isla withdrew a delicate chemise and carried it to Daphne. “There is lace all around the neckline. It must have taken a week to make it.”

The two maids didn’t hesitate to remove the robe, leaving Daphne blushing as she was stripped bare. Isla lifted the chemise, and Daphne hurried into it, desperate to have something to protect her modesty.

“That convent tried to teach ye to be ashamed of yer body,” Asgree observed drily. “It is nae a natural thing to be so timid when there are only women here.”

It was gentle scolding, but a reprimand nonetheless. Nothing bred gossip faster than the unknown. If it was said she let no one see her body, there would be those who whispered it was because she was marked by the devil.

“Modesty was indeed stressed,” Daphne replied, forcing herself to uncross her arms and allow the darker hue of her nipples to show through the thin fabric. “I suppose I picked up a few habits I did nae have afore.”

Asgree nodded, and there was a rustle as she withdrew an undergown of russet silk. “I believe this one will fit well enough. When the mistress arrived, she was very thin from serving the queen at Court. They have strange notions of what is attractive in Edinburgh. Highlanders like women the way the good Lord intended them to be. Curvy.”

One of the maids giggled and took the undergown from Asgree. It crinkled as they lifted it up and helped her into it. Once on, the skirt fell in generous pleats all the way to the floor.

“Still, there are a few things I agreed with the mistress on.” Asgree lifted something from inside the wardrobe, and it unfolded. “I hear the French are the creators of lace stockings. The Church preaches against them, while men pray to see them.”

Daphne giggled this time, the other girls joining her. Asgree grinned mischievously as she brought the stockings forward. One of the maids brought a chair close, and she sat down. Asgree refused to let anyone else handle the delicate creations. She gathered them up gently and worked her thumbs down the inside of them. Daphne pointed her toes and pressed her foot into one. Asgree drew the stocking up her leg and secured it with a ribbon garter just behind her knee. The second one went on just as easily, and a maid brought a pair of heeled shoes for her. Daphne stepped into them, unable to stop herself from moving toward the full-length mirror to see her reflection. She lifted up the undergown to admire her legs. The candlelight cast a warm yellow glow over her, clearly illuminating the black lace against her skin.

Asgree admired Daphne. “I believe I understand why the priests preach against them… and I’d wager a month’s pay that Norris would willingly fall onto his knees if he thought ye’d wear those.”

Daphne laughed in a tone both husky and full of anticipation.

Ye enjoyed the last time the man was on his knees full well…

Indeed she had.

“She does nae need the long stays,” Asgree told one of the maids. “And it is nae yet cold enough to wear them for the warmth.”

The girls looked at Daphne’s breasts, trying to learn the skill their mentor had. To be chosen to serve the mistress of the house was one of the best duties, for it came with the nicest surroundings. The girls lifted a dress and carried it like a babe, making sure not even the hem touched the floor. It was a rich shade of blue, and once it was close enough to touch, Daphne realized it was made of velvet.

“I can nae wear that. It is fit for a queen.”

“Or the Countess of Sutherland,” Asgree informed her in a tone full of authority.

“Which I am nae, either,” Daphne whispered. For just a moment, doubt punctured her enjoyment. What if Norris would not welcome her at the high table? No invitation had been issued. She’d look the fool sitting at one of the common tables in his mother’s finery.

“’Twas the laird who placed ye in the lady’s solar when he might as easily have taken ye to the chamber I put ye in the night ye arrived. He gives ye personal attendants when he has never done so before.” Asgree propped her hand onto her hip and aimed a hard look at Daphne. “Norris has ever been a bold one. Timid lasses never catch his eye.”

So subtle, yet sharp as could be. Asgree knew her art well, for she spoke her mind without ever overstepping her position. Daphne lifted her arms for the gown. It settled into place, and the maids began to lace up the back. The chamber was silent, allowing her to hear the laces pulling through the eyelets. Once again, the head of house proved her ability, for the dress fit her well. Norris’s mother had been slightly shorter than she, but the dress still touched the floor.

The bells began to ring, announcing to all that the cook was ready to serve supper. The maids hurried to comb her hair and pin a caul over the back of it. Asgree brushed Daphne’s cheeks with colored powder and used a tiny brush to paint her lips.

“Ye need naught else,” she announced at last, “except the boldness to show the young master ye can stand steady no matter the situation.”

“Thank ye,” Daphne murmured.

Surprise flickered in the old woman’s eyes, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“Get on with ye now. Ye have no need of this old woman any longer tonight. The dark hours belong to lovers, be they wed or no’.”

The maids gasped softly, but Daphne felt Asgree’s words blow air across the embers that had been smoldering inside her all day. Passion burned again within her, and she turned to go find the man she dreamed of sharing it with.

Fire fairy… perhaps.

Well, the man had best be ready to deal with what he had insisted on bringing home.

***

The hall was filling up. The sun had set, and everyone was ready to take some time to relax after the day’s demands. Her undergown rustled, announcing her arrival. Heads turned in her direction before she had even made it to the doorway. The conversation died then rose again in hushed whispers. Daphne held her chin steady, ordering herself to not pluck at the skirt of the gown. She kept her toes on the floor when she moved, using slow, flowing steps as her mother had once taught her some ten years ago.

A lady did not hurry on her way down the aisle.

She made sure everyone had time to admire her and the costly garments her family had provided her with.

A lady was meant to be noticed.

A lady studied dance, music, literature, and language to ensure when she was noticed, it was for her poise and sharp wits.

Nonetheless, she wanted to hurry to Norris’s side. At least she did until their eyes met. She felt the connection all the way to her toes. His green eyes were full of surprise, which burned away to reveal astonishment. His expression became a mask of enjoyment, stealing her breath. What really stunned her were his actions.

Norris Sutherland, heir to the Earldom of Sutherland, stood.

It was the height of compliments, the pinnacle of gestures that only his betters might have demanded of him, and that list was very short. It included the king and other earls, but even her father had been this man’s vassal. The hall went silent, and then it was filled with the scraping of benches being pushed back as every Sutherland retainer followed their laird’s son.

She walked past them all, catching the tugging on the edges of bonnets out of the corners of her eyes because she never looked away from Norris. She did stop at the base leading up to the high table. She lowered herself, waiting for the earl to raise her.

“Join us, since it seems me son can nae remain in his chair while ye are nae beside him.”

The earl was frowning, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Daphne didn’t have time to dwell on what that meant, because Norris descended two of the stairs and offered her his hand. She could feel everyone’s attention on them, making the moment seem important somehow. Like the first time Broen MacNicols had welcomed her to his home as his intended bride. What had gone before didn’t matter. When she placed her hand into Norris’s, there was a soft sound of approval from behind her.

She didn’t look over her shoulder. What drew her attention was the look in his green eyes. There was an intensity there that melted every doubt she had. There was no reason to ponder what tomorrow might bring, because she trusted in the man grasping her hand so securely.

***

Supper began with the wailing of pipes. The great hall was ringed by a balcony where musicians might stand out of sight. The clàrsach players followed, filling the hall with sweet melodies while maids carried platters of food to the head table. Each serving plate was covered with a silver dome to keep the food hot. Once the dome was removed, steam rose from the dishes, proving the Earl of Sutherland lived as finely as a king. Personal attendants laid silver plates in front of those dining at the head table, the serviceware having been guarded to ensure the earl was not poisoned.

Isla stepped up and took the goblet brought for Daphne. Both the earl and Norris had men assigned to their goblets, and those men would not let the drinking vessels out of their sight. It was a necessary precaution in a world riddled with power-hungry rivals. Now that she had publicly stepped up to sit beside Norris, she too would have to behave cautiously or risk having someone poison her in order to empty Norris’s bed.

There were meat pies and fresh, sweet bread. Cheese arrived with late harvest fruits. Norris delighted in filling her plate while his people watched.

“Enough,” she whispered. “The hounds will end up believing they have transformed into knights when they see the scraps tonight.”

He raised one eyebrow suggestively. “Are ye saying ye are finished, lass?”

“Aye,” she answered before recognizing she had played right into his trap. A wolfish grin appeared on his lips, and he pushed his chair back so fast the man holding his cup had to jump aside or be hit.

“I bid ye good night, Father.”

“Do ye now?” the earl drawled slowly. “Before we’ve sampled the marzipan tart yer companion assisted in making? Nae, ye must stay and enjoy the sweet.”

Norris dropped back into his chair, looking pitiful. He cast a frustrated look toward her. “Ye had to help make that tart.”

She grinned softly and fluttered her eyelashes. “How could I fail to tempt ye with me skills?”

He reached beneath the table and squeezed her thigh. There was a promise of retribution flickering in his eyes as the tart was brought down the aisle. It seemed to take a small eternity for the cook to unveil it and slice it into servings.

“Well now, ye do know a thing or two about preparing one of me favorite dishes,” Lytge muttered after licking his lips. “Perhaps ye might join me in me study to explain yer methods.”

Norris growled at his sire. The earl pretended surprise, but there was a familiar flicker of wickedness in his eyes that she had often witnessed in Norris’s.

“Off with the pair of ye, then.”

This time, the man holding Norris’s goblet moved out of the way fast enough. Norris was on his feet and dragged her chair back to the delight of the retainers at the lower tables. They raised their mugs, slapping the tabletops and making their wooden dishes bounce.

Norris offered them all a nod before clasping her wrist and nearly running down the aisle. Her silk skirts flew up, flashing her lace stockings as she lost the battle not to giggle.

“Ye marauder,” she accused when at last she stumbled into his chamber.

“If that were the case, I would have tossed ye over me shoulder.”

“As if yer people have nae seen that afore,” she answered, walking in a small circle as she caught her breath. To be honest, the rapid rate of her heart wasn’t due solely to the brisk pace Norris had set. Anticipation was flooding her with excitement now that the chamber door was closed and they were alone. She froze when she realized she and Norris had begun to circle each other. Surprise appeared on his face, and he offered her a bow.

“Ye bring out the savage in me. But I admit tonight I wanted me people to see ye following me.” It was an admission and one a man like Norris didn’t make easily. He was on guard, waiting to see what she’d make of his words.

“They saw me dressed for ye too.”

He tossed his bonnet onto the table. “Aye, lass, and it meant a great deal to me.”

She could see that. It confused and astounded her but, most of all, it drew her toward him. She reached for the top button of his doublet, working it free. The scent of his skin teased her. He shrugged out of the garment when she finished and dropped it over a chair. A soft rap came from the door, and it began to open.

“Be gone,” he bellowed, drawing a giggle from her.

The door jerked shut as he raised an eyebrow, and she opened the collar of his shirt.

“Amused by my being caught half-dressed, are ye?” He cupped her cheek, rubbing the delicate surface for a moment, and then he circled around her and tugged on the ends of the laces that held her overgown closed.

“Let us see how ye like having the tables turned on ye.”

She was going to enjoy it full well…

The silk underslip crinkled as it was released and fell toward the floor. Norris grasped her waist and lifted her free of it.

“Sweet Mother of Christ. Where did ye get those? And where are yer stays?”

She stretched out one leg to ensure he gained a good view of the lace stocking. “Asgree suggested I wear them, and I do nae need stays.”

He cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her chemise, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. She worked the buttons of his cuffs loose, impatient to be pressed against him.

“I don’t want to talk.” The words simply escaped, her emotions unwilling to be controlled. Her yearnings wanted freedom, and she was in complete agreement.

“Neither do I.”

He backed up and pulled the end of his belt loose. Another jerk, and he’d released the buckle that held the strap of leather tightly to his waist. His kilt fell, but he caught it before it hit the floor. He tossed it on the chair, then sat down and unlaced his boots. She leaned over and pulled one off.

“Now there is a service I can become accustomed to.”

The front of her chemise was gaping open to afford him a clear look down her body. Beneath the tail of his shirt, his cock hardened and stood.

He grunted and pulled his other boot off himself then stood up. “I want ye in me bed tonight, lass.”

He pinched out the candles, encasing them in darkness before he swept her off her feet. She didn’t gasp but made a sound of pleasure instead. Cradled against his chest, she listened to the sound of his bare feet crossing the stone floor to the carpet by his bed.

As he sat her down and pulled her chemise loose, the ropes holding the mattress groaned softly. With no light, she never saw it flutter to the floor, but she felt her lover join her. His lips pressed against hers in a kiss she felt she’d been waiting months for. She reached for him, pulling him against her, and they twisted and stroked each other. Time ceased, and she was willingly trapped in the moment. Clinging to her companion, she held him with her thighs when he pressed himself inside her. They moved together in perfect harmony, straining toward each other as the need to be together consumed them. When release came, it was pure rapture, burning away everything and leaving them content in each other’s embrace.

***

Daphne awoke to a hand smoothing along her back. She rubbed her eyes and blinked when sunlight burned them.

Norris was staring at the bruises on her back. “How bad is the pain now?”

She rolled away from him and earned a frown.

“I hardly notice them.” However, as she moved too quickly after waking, a small twinge of pain twisted through her. He didn’t miss it.

“Really, it is fine, just a bit stiff in the morning.” She looked at the window and realized the sun was up. “Why are ye still here?”

He chuckled, stood up, and walked across the chamber to a wardrobe. “Maybe I wanted to enjoy a few more moments of being with someone who enjoys me company simply for meself and nae the things to be gained from befriending me.”

He shrugged into a shirt and sat down to put on his boots. “Or maybe I woke up early and resisted falling back asleep for fear ye’d slip out of me bed again.”

“Ye do nae fear anything.”

He stood up and leaned against the angled table that held his kilt. To have a piece of furniture devoted to only one item of clothing was a luxury indeed. The length of his plaid was already folded into even pleats with the belt held in a wide groove behind the fabric. He grasped the ends and buckled his kilt in place.

“At this moment, I am nae so sure, lass.” He stared at her for a long moment before crossing the floor and cupping her chin. “I’m scared ye’ll repent during Mass and feel the need to sleep somewhere else tonight, and I do nae think I even care who hears me say it.”

He kissed her, smothering any reply she might have made, but honestly, she was stunned by his admission. Norris Sutherland was not afraid of anything. There was a flap and flutter, and Norris chuckled softly as Bacchus flew through the window. The peregrine perched on the curtain rail and screeched at Norris.

“I knew ye raised him,” Daphne offered.

“From the moment he was fledged.” Norris reached into a leather pouch that hung from a rack on the wall and pulled a strip of meat from it. The falcon watched him, lowering its head as it caught the scent of the meat. Norris tossed the scrap into the air, and with another cry, Bacchus caught it before it fell. The raptor returned to the curtain rod and began to feast.

“Are ye frightened of him?” Norris asked.

Daphne shook her head, fascinated with the bird and being able to watch him so closely. “Where is he trained to fly to?”

“Dunrobin,” Norris answered. “We have others trained to fly to many of our vassal’s lands. They have birds trained to fly here, but Bacchus is mine.”

Of course he was. Now that she was looking closer, she could see marks on the rod from the falcon’s talons.

“I hope ye’ll be here tonight, lass, it would please me greatly.”

She simpered like a child being given a piece of sugar candy. Her heart was suddenly full of happiness, and her logic was nowhere to be found. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and he grinned.

Someone rapped on the door, and his expression hardened. “Duty calls. No matter what ye decide, do nae be foolish. Stay with Cam and Isla. Me life is full of threats no matter how loyal I believe me staff to be.”

“I shall,” she promised, earning a pleased look from him. For a moment it looked like he might say something, but the door began to open.

He grunted and sent the bed curtain closed to hide her. His men muttered morning greetings before the door shut again behind them. Bacchus cried out. There was a flutter, and she knew the bird had left.

She’d worn the lace stockings to bed, but her chemise was hanging over the back of a chair, indicating someone had crept into the chamber after she and Norris had fallen asleep.

After they’d made love, that was… She bit her lip and shrugged into the garment, not in the mood to be caught bare skinned by Isla.

As if she does nae know what ye’ve been about…

Her inner voice was trying to needle her. Daphne struggled against it but couldn’t completely dismiss the feeling of foreboding that crept past the happiness warming her. Perhaps it was the bright light of day, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that each night with Norris might well be her last. Oh, she knew it was foolish to worry about such things, for every love affair ended.

She simply wondered if she’d survive having her heart broken.

***

The bells rang out, loud and clear. But not too fast, so Daphne didn’t worry that it might be an emergency.

“Looks like Laird Fraser’s come to see the earl,” Isla informed Daphne after leaning out of the open windows of the solar. She made a low sound and turned to look at Daphne, worrying her lower lip. “He’s got his sister along. Sandra is ripe for marriage, and they’ve been dangling her in front of the master for the past year. She’s quite fetching.”

Daphne tried not to care. But failed. Today there were other women in the solar with them. Asgree had arrived with two new attendants for her and refused to take no for an answer. Daphne couldn’t deny the spike of apprehension that pierced her heart. She had no right to be jealous, but it went surging through her as hot as a fire poker.

“Ye should go and meet her.”

“Why?” Daphne asked Isla and bit back the rest of her comment when she realized the other women were nodding.

“Go and show her the laird is taken.”

“Ye should nae say such things. He does nae belong to me,” Daphne muttered.

Such… bold things. There was no understanding between them beyond tonight, and a man might change his mind as easily as he changed his shirt. Thinking such things might make her discontent with her lot. She’d be the only one to suffer if she began to long for more from Norris. It would be her heartache to bear. Isla lowered herself, but her expression was far from repentant. Exactly like her thoughts, Daphne grumbled to herself. But she was worrying her lip, and Isla stared at the telltale motion.

“Oh, fie. Ye are correct.” Daphne gave in.

A timid lass has never caught his eye…

Asgree’s words rose from her memory like a warning. There was something more, a need to protect the right to join Norris in his chamber. Sleeping alone seemed too much to tolerate. What sent her out of the solar and down the stairs was the fact that she knew Sandra Fraser was there to see Norris. It was more than Isla’s words. It was something Daphne felt rising up from deep inside her. Some instinct was warning her to be on guard or risk losing what she treasured.

When she entered the hall and witnessed Bari Fraser presenting Sandra to the earl, her feelings proved correct. She gave Lytge only the briefest courtesy then turned her full attention to Norris. Sandra took her time as she lowered herself before him. She looked up into his face, ensuring he had an unobstructed view of her cleavage. Sandra held up her hand, and Daphne’s vision turned red.

Norris had no choice but to lift it and kiss the back of it. Daphne still resented seeing his lips touch the other woman’s skin. Norris must have felt her gaze on him, for he looked past Sandra, locking stares with Daphne.

“Allow me to introduce Daphne MacLeod.” His voice was strong and edged with authority. Sandra wasn’t pleased, but masked her irritation well.

“Good… good…” Lytge mumbled. “The lasses can share some spiced cider while we talk business at the high table.”

Asgree had obviously anticipated such a request, and her staff was already setting out dishes on one of the tables. Daphne would rather have returned to the solar, but she sat down, mindful of her behavior. Sandra whipped her attention back to her brother, but the earl had already turned and was on his way to the high table. Norris followed his father, and Bari shrugged. Sandra propped her hand onto her hip for a brief moment. A sharp look from her brother saw her straightening her posture. Bari Fraser went after his hosts, and Sandra turned to look at Daphne.

It seemed neither of them was pleased with the company they’d be keeping.

Daphne would have to thank Isla later, for the girl knew what she had been talking about. Sandra Fraser had her eye on Norris. No doubt about it.

***

Sandra Fraser was prettier up close.

She had red hair, the darker shade of it. Her eyes were blue and her complexion blissfully free of freckles so often found on redheads. She glided on graceful steps, her dress perfectly fitted to her. The stiffened corset beneath the bodice pushed her young breasts up into a tempting display. When she sat down next to Daphne, she did it with a smile on her rosy lips, but it was directed at the retainers at the next table. When they turned back to their game of dice, she sighed and looked at Daphne.

“Ye are as comely as the rumors claim.” Sandra spoke softly.

“Some believe so,” Daphne replied. She was on guard. Tension squeezed her as she watched the other girl contemplate her.

Sandra lowered her chin and raised a mocking eyebrow. “Let’s not be coy when there are no men about to impress. Ye’re a beauty, and ye’ve used it to snare yerself Norris Sutherland. At least for a lover. For that much, I congratulate ye. He’s never taken a woman to his personal bedchamber. The star chamber is where he prefers to tryst.”

“How do you know all of this?” Daphne asked incredulously.

Norris’s warning rose from her memory.

Me life is full of threats no matter how loyal I believe me staff to be.

Sandra laughed softly, mockingly, before offering a bright smile. “He is a very important man, so what he does and with whom he does it interests me. We can still be friends, ye know.”

“Is that so?” Daphne couldn’t help but ask. There was an arrogance in the woman she was in awe of, simply because it was so ridiculous. Sandra was full of pride and seemed to have supreme confidence in her ability to do whatever she pleased.

Sandra leaned closer. “Tell me what makes Norris hard, and I’ll make sure ye have someplace to go once he turns ye out in order to wed me.”

A hot flash of denial went through her. It was stunning, and like everything else she felt in relation to Norris, it threatened to overwhelm her better judgment. She wanted to lunge at Sandra and smack her mocking face.

Sandra snickered. “Now do nae be too hasty,” she cooed. “Nae many women would offer ye anything.”

“Ye assume I want something from ye,” Daphne snapped.

Sandra’s expression turned harsh. “Every woman seeks something. Life is nae kind. I’m here to snare Norris for me husband. With or without yer help.” She shrugged. “If ye decide to play nicely and tell me what the man likes in his bed, I will make sure ye do nae end up dumped in the road like the strumpet ye are.”

“How generous of ye,” Daphne snipped.

Sandra fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, it is. Do nae be a fool. I know the truth of ye, and soon, me brother is going to make sure Norris knows it also.”

“And what truth is that?” Daphne demanded.

Sandra slowly smiled, seeming to enjoy making Daphne wait for her reply.

“Ye have no dowry,” she delivered in a mocking tone. “None. Naught to yer name at all.”

“Norris knows that well enough.” However, she couldn’t dismiss the fact that he might not believe it. A horrible sense of foreboding hit her, threatening to strangle her confidence and the happiness she’d enjoyed for the last few days.

“Ye really are nae very intelligent,” Sandra decided. “I may be pretty like ye, but I am also very clever. No wonder ye are naught but the man’s conquest. Or, should I say current conquest, because a man such as Norris will never be satisfied with one woman. Ye’re such a little fool to believe he’ll care one bit about ye once he’s spied another woman he fancies.”

“I believe I’ve heard enough of this.” Daphne made to stand, but Sandra surprised her by clamping her hand on Daphne’s wrist to keep her at the table.

“I will be the next woman. Better ye accept that fact now. More than his woman, I shall be his wife and mistress of Dunrobin once that old man does us the favor of dying,” Sandra hissed low and with a tone full of venom. “I always pay me debts, but I also never fail to collect me vengeance. Tell me what he likes, or ye’ll regret it.”

Isla suddenly stepped forward, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the way Sandra was digging her fingers into Daphne’s arm. Sandra shot the girl a hard look.

“Yer mistress does nae need ye. Be gone.”

Isla lowered herself, but it was clear from the stiffness of her motion she lacked any sincerity. Cam stepped up behind his sister, tugging on the corner of his bonnet while his eyes remained narrowed.

“Tell them to be gone,” Sandra demanded.

Daphne shook her head. “They are nae fools. If ye are as clever as ye claim, better learn to respect the fact that just because someone serves ye, it does nae ensure they will like ye.”

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Why should I care? As mistress of Dunrobin, I’ll be the one deciding who serves here”—she turned her head and sent a hard look at Isla—“and who does not.”

Daphne stood up. Sandra didn’t want to let her go and ended up hanging onto her arm. Her eyes were rounded in shock, proving that her brother allowed her free rein.

“Good day to ye, Mistress Fraser.”

Sandra released Daphne and gave her skirts a vicious shake before lifting her chin arrogantly.

“Best ye consider me offer. Every hour ye make me wait for what I desire, ye shall have less from me when ye need it.”

She brushed by Daphne, her carriage as regal as a queen’s. Norris looked up, and Sandra instantly changed. Her body lost its haughty stance, becoming sultry as she lowered herself. Norris’s lips lifted into a grin that was far too appreciative. A chill twisted through Daphne, and she turned to hide it from him. As if he’d notice while looking at Sandra.

Ye’re jealous…

She was. There was no denying it or the fact that there was nothing she might do about it. Norris was the earl’s heir. He’d do what he wanted. What frightened her the most was the certain knowledge he’d do what he considered his duty. Sandra was the daughter of a laird and had a dowry. When it came to marriage, the Earl of Sutherland would look at the bride who came with the most for his eldest son.

Sandra might just gain her wish and became mistress of Dunrobin.

***

“There will be no supper at the high table tonight. The earl has retired.” It was Asgree who appeared just before sunset to inform Daphne of the news. Two maids followed her, freshly pressed linens stacked in their arms.

“I hope the earl is well.”

The head of house scoffed softly. “I believe his stomach is soured by the endless prattle of his guests. I confess I’ve used the task of informing ye of supper’s change in order to escape the demands of young Mistress Fraser. Half the maids in the bathhouse have suddenly gone ill. When she set herself to inspecting the kitchens, the cook took to sharpening his knives.”

Daphne felt her eyes widen, and she raised a hand to stifle a small sound of amusement that tried to escape her lips. Asgree didn’t miss her lapse in discipline.

“Go on, laugh. Lord knows I want to. That lass is presumption wrapped in a siren’s form.”

“Still. I shouldn’t be judgmental. I am hardly without me own sins,” Daphne offered.

Asgree moved forward to inspect the lace Daphne and Isla had been making. “Ye have polished skills, something some lasses like to talk about more than prove.”

The compliment warmed her. The older woman shifted her attention to Daphne’s face, studying her for a long moment. “His lairdship asked me where ye would like to take yer supper. Which chamber?”

And it seemed Norris would not be the only one at Dunrobin wondering what her choice would be. It really wasn’t a decision. She’d stepped onto the path she was set on the night before.

“I would return to the laird’s chamber.”

Asgree’s eyes brightened, and she nodded. She turned and pointed the maids toward the doorway. Then she paused, waiting until they left.

“A fine choice,” she offered and left the solar on silent feet. It had been a long time since anyone with any authority had approved of her, and Daphne discovered herself stunned. She stood still, allowing herself to savor the moment, for she admired the head of house. Asgree was no fool and knew one when she saw one.

Isla was brimming with excitement too, worrying her lower lip once again as she waited for Daphne to decide it was time to leave the solar.

“Well then, I suppose I shall bathe and make sure those working in the bathhouse are properly thanked for their service.”

It was a small thing, one that fate might decide to take away from her at any moment, but for today, Norris had set her above the other women in the house. Daphne planned to make sure she did not abuse the position.

Sandra would not be so kind.

Daphne shook her head, pushing her thoughts aside. The sun was setting, and she would not waste the night, for it was hers to share with Norris. With her lover.

***

Sandra Fraser was waiting on him.

Norris didn’t know which was worse, sitting at the high table while her brother droned on endlessly about the merits of the Frasers or the certain knowledge that the moment he followed his father’s example and left the high table Sandra would waylay him.

The woman held no appeal. She might be a beauty, blessed with a body most men would have no trouble desiring, but all he could see was the calculating look in her eyes.

Sandra Fraser was a cunning bitch, and she’d set her sights on him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been the target of such. Maybe sometime, many years ago, when he’d been young enough to be impressed with his own power, he’d have enjoyed it. Becoming a man had tempered his ego, and it was a fact he was very pleased with. Too many viewed him as a man who had everything, when the truth was, no one had it all. He had privilege and position but no freedom to wed the woman he wanted. A common man had no land of his own but could follow his heart.

At the moment, Norris envied every retainer wearing his father’s colors. Sandra Fraser wouldn’t be waiting on them. No, she was a coldhearted jade. She was waiting on him but casting sly looks at some of his men. Not only would she rule his house like a shrew, he’d have to put a watch on her else wonder if her children were his.

Asgree appeared at the kitchen door and made her way toward the high table. Norris discovered himself watching her, his anticipation rising as she made a steady progress toward him. She stopped and lowered herself before climbing up the side steps to come behind him and Laird Fraser. He lifted his hand, and Bari made a low sound of frustration but closed his mouth anyway.

“Mistress MacLeod has decided to accept yer invitation. She awaits ye.”

He didn’t think three words had ever filled him with such joy. Daphne was waiting for him. He stood up, gaining a grunt from Bari.

“Can nae yer mistress wait until we’ve finished?” he whined. “I hear she’s new. Is she that talented on her back?”

Norris cast a hard look at his guest. For once, he abandoned diplomacy completely, allowing the other man to see his true emotions. Bari Fraser swallowed roughly. “Mistress MacLeod is a woman I respect,” Norris informed him quietly. “While ye are near me, ye’ll do the same or keep yer opinion to yerself.”

Bari wasn’t accustomed to being told to mind his words. It was clear that the man ruled with absolute power on Fraser land. It was also clear Bari put his own desires above the other members of his household. He’d never suggested inviting Sandra to the head table to see if she and Norris found each other pleasing. No, Bari Fraser was more concerned in finding out what sort of alliance he’d gain when Sandra was handed over to Norris to occupy his bed.

Aye, he knew well that was the way of most noble marriages, but he wanted something else, and it was waiting for him but a few stories above his head. Norris headed out of the great hall through the side entrance. He had no desire to listen to Sandra do her best to impress him or to hurt the girl’s feelings on the off chance she wasn’t as cold as he’d judged her to be.

Asgree was there, beyond the doorway.

“Shall I send supper up?”

“Aye, and then give yer staff their leave.”

Asgree lowered herself and left. Norris looked up and muffled a curse. Sandra had taken the opportunity to close in on him. She sank down into a graceful courtesy, her velvet dress pooling like water. The color suited her perfectly, and every hair on her head was artfully arranged. Nevertheless, he felt not even a twinge of attraction.

“Forgive me, mistress, but I’m set to retire for the night.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and her gaze slipped down his length. “It is nae very fair of ye to tease me so, Norris.”

He had to reach out and stop her before she pressed herself against him. “I’ve teased ye not at all.”

She pouted and shrugged in the face of his harsh tone. “For certain ye are accustomed to being so harsh with the women who fall under yer spell, but I was hoping ye might consider being just a wee bit tender with me.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and aimed a pleading look at him. She reached right out and stroked his neck. The touch disgusted him because of just how practiced it was. He could see her judging his response, no hint of reaction in her own eyes. He might have been a stallion for all she cared. Her mind was on the matter of making him her conquest. So very different from the way Daphne’s eyes filled with hunger when she touched him.

“Good night, Mistress Fraser. I suggest ye find someone else to offer ye tenderness.”

Her eyes widened, and her expression became hard. “I do nae care if ye keep yer mistress. Me brother has made it clear he would like a match between us. I hear the MacLeod girl is barren, that she has nae bled in a very long time. Ye need heirs. Besides, she has not even a silver penny to her name. Let us come to an agreement. I’ll give ye yer heirs, and neither of us shall be jealous of where we find our pleasures. I can be discreet, I assure ye, Norris.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

Sandra lifted her chin stubbornly. “As if ye are as pure as Saint Peter. Daphne MacLeod is a sack of bones.” She boldly stroked the swells of her breast above the edge of her bodice. “Do ye nae long to have a pair of tits ye can rest yer head on when yer cock is spent?”

“Enough!” he barked at her. “I suppose there are men aplenty in this world who will take a liking to yer bold tongue, but I am nae one of them.”

He left her behind, glad to be finished with her. What chilled his blood as he climbed the stairs was the fact that he might well find himself battling his father when it came to contracting a bride. What twisted his gut was the worry that Daphne wouldn’t be content as his mistress.

For the first time in his life he was tempted to use his position for his own purposes. The temptation was intoxicating with the relief it offered. Relief from worrying when Daphne would leave Dunrobin. There were plenty of men who wouldn’t have bothered battling the urge. But his father had raised him to consider his position a duty, not a privilege. He’d shouldered that duty more than once, performing as expected rather than as he wished. However, tonight he wondered if he’d ever be able to let Daphne go.

***

“What did Sandra say to ye?” Norris appeared only a few moments after Isla had taken her leave. Daphne had just pinched out several of the candles, leaving the chamber in semidarkness. It suited Norris, though. Or perhaps it suited her mood, for it made the moment seem intimate and hidden away from the sharper edges of reality.

So much easier for her to slip into her fantasy world where she need only please herself…

“It doesn’t matter.” She reached for the pitcher of wine Isla had left and poured some of it into a goblet. She held it out for Norris. He took it but didn’t lift it to his lips. Instead he set it back on the table.

“It matters if ye are intent on distracting me from learning the answer to me question. Isla says Sandra refused to let ye leave. Why?”

“It was a matter of little importance. Be careful ye do nae encourage me to make demands of ye whenever something displeases me. Better that I retain enough of me wits to know the difference between sense and foolishness.”

Daphne moved closer to the fire, letting the heat fill the long dressing robe Isla had produced for her to wear once her dress was unlaced and hung in the wardrobe. She laughed softly, gaining a raised eyebrow from Norris.

“I was noticing how easily I have become accustomed to being undressed in yer presence.” The words felt wicked on her tongue, but she laughed again. “Father Peter is sure to have something horrible to say about it.”

“A situation easily remedied by yer remaining here, where Father Peter can nae demand yer attention.”

It was mad the way his words made hope flare up inside her. She hadn’t realized just how frightened she was until he put her mind at ease.

Norris cursed softly behind her. “So that’s what the bitch said to ye.”

Daphne jerked her attention around toward him. “I said naught.”

He’d unbuttoned his doublet and tossed it over the back of a chair. His collar was open, making him look rakish, but he shook his head. “What I saw in yer eyes, ’tis the truth that I did nae recognize it.”

Confusion held her in its grip as he closed the distance between them. He cupped her chin and stared into her eyes.

“Never once, even when I pulled ye out of Morrell Comyn’s clutches, have I seen fear in yer eyes. Until tonight.” He held her chin when she would have turned away. “That bitch threatened ye.”

It wasn’t a question, and she couldn’t hide her emotions. She never had been able to mask her true feelings with him. “It does nae matter. I’ve made me choices and understand ye are nae bound to me.”

He slid his hand up her face, and tenderness filled his green eyes. “I am surely bound to ye, Daphne, and God forgive me, but I am happy to see ye fear to be parted from me, for I do nae think I can bear having ye leave me. I swear I will never wed Sandra Fraser.”

He sealed her mouth with his, the kiss slow and deep. She reached for him, desperate to feel him pressed against her. Nothing else mattered. Nothing at all.

***

Something woke Daphne. She opened her eyes and stared at the canopy stretched out above Norris’s bed. His arm was draped over her chest, one large hand cupping her breast. The air was still cold, the fire reduced to ashes long ago. Only the barest amount of light teased the horizon. She should go back to sleep, but her belly ached. It was dull but persistent, and when she shifted her legs, she realized her thighs were wet.

She sat up, staring in horror at the soiled sheet. It was a terrible waste of such fine cloth. Even in the dark, she could see the stain. Norris jerked, jumping to his feet in a motion that betrayed just how powerful his body was.

“What is it?” He turned his head, clearly listening for the bells, but only the morning birds could be heard.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake ye.”

He sat down and rolled his shoulders. “Ye may wake me early anytime, lass. I am sure we shall find something to do with the time.”

“Nae.” She pushed against him when he tried to pull her close. He settled for pressing a kiss against her neck and growling softly against her hair.

“We can nae, Norris.”

He caught her hand and carried it to his member. The flesh was hard and hot in spite of the coolness of the morning air.

“We surely can…”

“I’m bleeding, and I’ve ruined yer fine sheets.” She stood up, going to the garderobe to fetch a linen. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forbade herself to cry. It was a prayer answered. The very thing she had desired. She should be happy. Yet she sniffled.

“Here now, Daphne… do nae be so distraught.”

Norris scooped her up and carried her back to bed. He tossed the soiled sheet aside, spreading the top one over the mattress.

“I’ll ruin that one too,” she warned.

“I do nae care.”

He pulled the bedding back over them and wrapped his body around hers. “I am nae giving up even a moment of me time with ye. Me duties may own me during the daylight hours, but the sun has nae risen, so I am free to be yer disciple.”

He was warm and welcoming, folding her against him. With the dawn yet to break, it was simple to be tempted back into slumber where she didn’t have to worry. For the moment, Norris was hers. Perhaps the last moment. But hers nonetheless.

***

Sandra Fraser was furious.

And she always extracted vengeance on those who crossed her. Oh, it would be a bit harder this time, because Norris was the heir to an earldom, but she enjoyed a good challenge. He would pay for the way he’d brushed her aside. She tapped her lower lip with one slim finger and grinned. It really wasn’t much of a challenge after all. His bitch whore was the way to get to him. After she dealt a blow to Daphne MacLeod, the man would learn to fear her wrath for sure.

Casting a look about, she made sure no one was following her. She made her way toward the chamber her brother had been given for the night. His men allowed her through the door once they recognized her, but her brother frowned over the shoulder of the maid he had in bed with him. He sent the girl toward the door with a flick of his fingers. Her eyes turned red and she sniffled, but neither Sandra nor her brother spared her even a morsel of pity. She gathered up her clothing and fled.

“Dearest sister…” Bari Fraser muttered. “Why aren’t ye in Norris Sutherland’s bed?”

“Because he’s smitten by Daphne MacLeod,” she snapped. “Which is why ye must ride out at first light.”

Bari contemplated her for a moment. “Ye have a plan?”

Sandra smiled. “I do indeed, but ye need to be gone for it to be effective.”

Sandra moved to the table where Bari’s men had left his things. What she sought was the secretary’s box that was guarded every moment it wasn’t in her brother’s keeping. She flipped it open without asking for permission. She shifted the paper aside and pressed on a section of the box most didn’t know was there. It released what looked like the bottom of the box to reveal a secret compartment.

“We’ll be hung if that counterfeit seal is ever discovered,” her brother remarked from behind her. “Lord Home does nae suffer those who impersonate the king or his royal seal.” He planted his hand down in the middle of the parchment she was making ready to write on. “I’ll nae have ye risking me neck without good reason.”

Sandra offered him a smug smile. “Just a simple letter summoning Norris to Edinburgh. We’ll pay some peasant to deliver it once we’re away.”

Bari pressed her. “What will that gain us?”

Sandra tried to brush his hand aside, but her brother refused to move.

“Ye will receive a similar letter. Norris is good friends with Broen MacNicols and will likely seek out Deigh Tower tomorrow night. I need him away from his slut so I can slip into his bed and bloody the sheets. I expect ye to be properly outraged when I am discovered with me lover.” She looked up and fluttered her eyelashes. “Won’t it be quite the coincidence that we shall also be there? The MacNicols have no reason to deny us shelter tonight.”

“The man is pure Highlander. Slipping into his bed will nae be simple,” Bari cautioned.

“Leave the task of slipping a potion into his drink up to me.” She pulled the stopper out of the ink well and dipped the quill into it. “I am much better at it than ye.”

Bari lifted his hand and walked across the chamber. “Ye are at that. Mother taught ye her craft very well. Along with how to forge another’s hand script. I will miss ye when ye are wed.”

“Me clan will always come first, and once I have two sons to secure me place, Norris Sutherland will be of no further use to us. I’ll bury him and be a merry widow, me sons securing me place.” Sandra began to pen the letter.

Bari poured himself a goblet full of expensive French wine. He admired it before draining it. His sister concentrated on her work, looking from time to time at the letter from Lord Home he kept in his secretary’s box. When she finished, she pulled a signet seal from the secret compartment. It was the mirror image of Lord Home’s. The man who had made it was such an artist, it had been a shame to have to slit his throat, but it was the only way to ensure he never spoke of the matter.

Sandra heated some wax and let it pool on the folded letter. When it was ready, she pressed the seal into it.

“Perfect,” she announced. “Or at least it will be once I have Norris Sutherland for me husband.”

“He’ll likely refuse to wed ye, even if ye mange to soil his sheets and cry debauchery. Ye would nae be the first virgin he’s disgraced.”

Sandra replaced the seal in the box and closed the secret compartment. “I have considered that.” She stood up and offered her brother a sweet smile. “It is the only reason I didn’t poison his father’s cup last night. That old man might be useful in forcing his son to honor me.”

She reached up and pulled one of her hair ornaments free. With a delicate motion of her fingers, she opened one of the flowers to revel a compartment full of powder.

“Grandfather didn’t much approve of our father bringing home an Italian wife from his campaigns, but I truly enjoy the gifts she passed on to me.” Sandra shared a smile with her brother. “Now, enough wine, Brother. I have an earl to catch before ye shall have all the Sutherland retainers at yer command.”

***

“Are ye happy to see them gone?” Norris asked.

Daphne jumped, earning a chuckle from Norris. He turned her back around and looked over her shoulder at the sight of Bari Fraser and his sister riding away from Dunrobin.

“I am,” he confessed softly against her ear. “It will give me much more time to spend with ye.”

He’d wrapped his arms around her, and she took a moment to stroke his hand, savoring the feeling of being able to touch him. But she couldn’t pretend any longer that their time wasn’t limited.

“Until yer father finds ye another bride.” She sighed. “But that is as it should be. Ye should send me home now.”

Her voice cracked, and tears threatened to slide down her cheeks. She tried to disengage herself from his embrace, but he held her close, his face buried in her hair.

“Is that what ye wish, Daphne? To leave me?”

“Nae.” The denial simply slipped out before any rational thought might intercede. “But it is the right thing to do. I believe Asgree is correct about my being too thin. But I am gaining weight now, and I can nae take me own happiness at the expense of branding a child illegitimate. If it were only meself, I would stay as long as ye would have me near ye.”

His arms tightened, and she heard him pull in a deep breath. His body shook. It was a tiny tremor but one that was unmistakable.

“I would have ye near me and more, lass, for I believe I love ye.” He squeezed her once more before releasing her. She turned, shocked by his words but delighted beyond any feeling she’d ever known. He cupped her face, and his green eyes were full of affection.

“Forgive me for all but kidnapping ye, Daphne. I could nae make meself leave ye behind. Ye are a part of me.”

“I told ye nae… only because I can nae take me happiness at the expense of the children I might bear ye.”

Norris kissed her and then released her. “Another reason I adore ye, Daphne. I did nae think I could find meself thankful for Sandra Fraser’s visit, and yet, I am, for it has shown me just what a gem ye are.” His expression tightened. “And it has proven I have failed to take action, as well.” He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet. Her eyes widened at the respectful gesture.

Norris winked at her. “I have a matter to attend to, lass. Excuse me.”

The moment he was gone, Isla squealed with delight. She danced across the solar, her skirts kicking up with her excitement.

“He’s gone to tell his father he plans to wed ye!” Isla announced unceremoniously.

“Ye should nae say a thing like that, when he did not say such was his intention,” Daphne admonished, but her tone lacked any true reprimand.

Because she was too full of joy. He loved her. If she heard nothing else her entire life, those three words were enough.

***

“She is nae with child,” Lytge Sutherland stated firmly from behind his desk. “Why are ye so set to wed her now that it’s proven she’s nae breeding?” The earl pointed a thick finger toward Gahan. “Ye should leave before ye get the notion to wed some penniless female because yer heart goes soft for her.”

Norris leaned on the front of table, fighting to maintain his control. “Ye mean like the affection ye felt for his mother?”

“I still wed the bride me father contracted me to,” Lytge insisted.

“And ye were so fond of each other, I was the only child from yer union,” Norris remarked. “Do ye truly wish such a fate upon me, Father? I mean ye no disrespect, for I love ye, but Daphne MacLeod holds me heart, and I would see our children born legitimate.”

Something flickered in Lytge’s eyes for a moment, but it vanished before Norris identified it. For just a moment, he felt a tingle of suspicion chilling his neck. His father lifted his hand and waved it.

“Ye speak the truth, sure enough. Yer mother and I never agreed upon much, but I had hoped for more warmth in our marriage. It is possible, but fate was nae so kind to me.”

“Love is different from affection, Father, and ye understand what I am talking about.”

The earl glanced toward Gahan. His eyes grew misty. “I loved yer mother, it is true, but I never asked to wed her.”

“Only because ye already had a wife,” Norris argued.

“One who came with an impressive dowry,” Lytge insisted.

“I earn ye plenty with me managing skills. Sutherland is not poor.”

Someone knocked on the door, earning a growl from Norris.

“Enter!” Lytge bellowed.

The man who entered was thin. He pulled his bonnet off his head and bowed while holding up a letter. Gahan took it and scanned the seal.

“Lord Home,” he announced gravely.

“Fine. Fine. Give the messenger something for his trouble,” Lytge said.

Norris reached into the open box in front of his father and pulled out a few pieces of silver. The messenger’s eyes lit up when Norris dropped the coins into his waiting palm. The man bobbed his head several times and backed out the door. From the table, Norris heard the parchment crinkling when his father unrolled it. His temper strained, but his personal matter would have to wait while his father read the message from Lord Home. The man was more of a king than the boy wearing Scotland’s crown.

“Ye’ve been summoned to Court, to swear yer allegiance, Norris.”

“Getting a sword put through me side at Sauchieburn was nae proof enough of me support?” Norris snapped while Gahan growled. They’d both nearly lost their lives five times over when the young king’s supporters clashed with his royal father’s forces.

“Apparently nae,” Lytge groused. “And I am nae too pleased to have him summoning ye with winter creeping down from the north. But ye must go. He is the king, and without a king, we’d spend all our time fighting off the nearby clans.”

Norris suddenly straightened and offered his father a bow. “Then I’ll make sure I’m gone within the hour.” His father frowned, but Norris didn’t give him a chance to voice his suspicions.

Gahan caught up to Norris in the hallway. “In a bit of a hurry, are nae ye?”

Norris offered his half brother a smug grin. “Of course. Fate has handed me the solution to me dilemma.”

Gahan frowned. “Ye plan to seek permission from the king to wed fair Daphne?”

“Aye.” Norris felt more relieved than he’d thought he might ever be. “The young king is pious and full of regret for the part he played in his father’s death, for in spite of the fact that his father was a blackguard of the worst sort, the young king takes the commandments to heart.”

“I hear the king is set to wear a chain against his skin during lent as penitence,” Gahan remarked.

“Aye.” Norris stopped before they crossed the doorway into the yard and leaned closer to his sibling. “The king will agree it is me duty to wed Daphne, for it was I who seduced her away from Broen and the match her father had made.”

“I seem to recall her being a willing partner in that.”

Norris inclined his head. “A fact she has never disputed, but I trust the king will be happy to give me his blessing when I tell him how it has troubled me. So much so that I went to fetch her.”

“Ye did that sure enough,” Gahan agreed.

“So now, I’m off to ask a king to bless me marriage and tell me father it would please him to see the deed done,” Norris said, “all in the interest of following the Holy Book.”

“Ye mean all in the interest of making sure ye do nae need to worry about having a shrew such as Sandra Fraser for a wife.”

“That is simply a coincidence,” Norris said softly.

“A bloody nice one.”

Norris smirked and slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Is nae it? And here I’ve always been lectured on the wrath of heaven being unleashed upon me for me sinful ways.”

Aye, he was arrogant, but he was also the happiest man on earth. And that was a fact.

***

“Enough, Norris.”

He growled playfully at her, refusing to release her until he’d kissed her once more. It was a slow parting, one that made her long for just another moment in his embrace.

“Ye are correct,” he muttered, his breath still teasing her lips. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I shall return and wed ye.”

“Ye really should nae—”

He pressed a kiss on top of her protest—it was a soft kiss, because her argument was weak.

“Ye really should nae sour me luck by forecasting failure, me fire fairy.”

“I am no’ an enchantress.”

Norris spread his arms wide and bowed low as he backed toward the door of the solar. “Yes, ye are, and I plan to keep ye.”

“Marauder.”

She gained only a glimpse of his smug expression before he was gone in a swish of Sutherland plaid. Aye, marauder was the correct word. Or perhaps Highlander. But she really couldn’t say she objected to his ways. No, she enjoyed them full well.

***

Clarrisa MacNicols was no stranger to forcing a smile onto her lips when she was actually irritated with the person in front of her. No, she’d grown up a bastard child of the King of England and suffered plenty of relatives who planned to use her blood to further their causes. The War of the Roses had seen her torn between families willing to do anything to gain the throne of England. But Sandra Fraser was trying her patience.

“Ye are gracious beyond measure,” Broen MacNicols murmured. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist. He pulled her close while their guests enjoyed the supper placed before them. “At least they will seek their beds soon enough, and we might do the same.”

Her new husband’s voice dipped with the last few words, sending heat into her cheeks. His keen gaze touched on the spots of color as he offered her a satisfied grin.

“You are incorrigible,” she admonished him softly.

“I am exactly as ye like me, lass, untamed and yers to command.”

Clarrisa laughed softly as the bells on the outer wall of Deigh Tower began to toll, announcing riders. They didn’t ring fast enough to frighten her, but her husband stiffened, all traces of teasing vanishing. He was laird of the MacNicols and took the duty to heart. Broen was already halfway down the main aisle of the great hall before she finished muttering a quick prayer. His retainers dropped quick kisses on their sweethearts or wives and followed their laird. A castle was only as strong as the dedication of the men who manned her walls. The MacNicols retainers were as solid as steel.

Clarrisa turned back to the high table and her guests. Sandra and her brother had their heads close while they whispered. There was a light of victory shining in Sandra’s eyes, which puzzled Clarrisa. As soon as Sandra noticed Clarrisa watching her, she straightened up and concealed her emotions behind a very polished expression. It was perfect and everything a noblewoman should appear to be, but Clarrisa recognized it for what it was. Deception.

Edme made her way down from where she’d been serving the high table, a pitcher held securely in her grasp. Sandra and her brother had dismissed the older woman as nothing but a servant, but Edme was also Broen’s mother. She was the head of house at Deigh even if the fact that she had been Broen’s father’s mistress made it so she was not the mistress of the castle. Clarrisa gave her that respect, because she was no fool. Edme knew how to run the keep well, and her experience was beyond value.

“It seems our guests believe we are about to receive Norris Sutherland. Nae that they told me so, mind ye.”

“Why would they know?” Clarrisa wondered.

Edme aimed a suspicious look at her, a feeling Clarrisa discovered she shared. That look of victory in Sandra’s eyes did not herald good things if, in fact, Norris Sutherland was arriving. She didn’t have to wait very long to discover the truth. A few moments later, happy cheers greeted the returning men. Broen reentered the hall with Norris Sutherland by his side. Norris stopped when he saw her, clasping his hands over his chest in mock misery.

“And there is the lass who refused me,” he declared.

“Ye seem to have suffered through the loss well enough,” Broen muttered as he came to stand beside her.

Norris shrugged. “Who am I to stand in the way of love?”

His playfulness died when he looked beyond his host and hostess to the high table. Clarrisa watched the distaste enter his eyes, and her husband realized what drew his attention.

“Sandra and Bari Fraser are here too. It seems ye are nae the only one not interested in sleeping under the moon this time of year,” Broen said.

“I would prefer it,” Norris muttered softly before grinning at Broen. “But me horse, now he’s a bit picky.”

Norris’s tone had become teasing once more, but Clarrisa glanced over at Edme and found the older woman looking just as suspicious as she felt. Unless she missed her guess, it was going to be a long night.