Page 40 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
With a sigh, Lydia toward the courtyard to enjoy the early morning air.
The sound of heavy thuds and ‘thwacks’ drew her attention, and Lydia made her way toward the source of the noise, curious as to who might be so active so early.
She had expected a guard, either fresh from his time on guard, or warming up in preparation to take to the wall. Instead, she found none other than the man who occupied her thoughts with increasing frequency - and followed her into her dreams.
Lydia flushed. She only recalled fragments of those dreams, however, what she did remember was… well, it was hardly the sort of thing a proper young lady would be dreaming about. She had woken from them warm and somewhat flustered, unable to entirely banish the phantom sensations of hands on her hips, and caressing her belly and her chest…
And if dreaming about such things is improper, then mulling over them while I am awake, and in front of Laird Ranald is most certainly a path to disaster.
She stood for several moments, watching the laird as he practiced his sword techniques against a dummy. His shirt was discarded, leaving his muscular body and those intriguing tattoos fully visible. His muscles moved smoothly with every strike, and the fine sheen of sweat as he cut, thrust and parried made his tanned skin glow.
His movements were precise and graceful, making the exercise appear almost like a dance. His handsome face was tight with concentration.
Lydia watched him for a while longer, then went to get some tea - and two cups to share.
By the time she returned bearing a pot of freshly made strong tea and two mugs for drinking, Laird Ranald had finished whatever exercises he was practicing, and had set his blade to one side. Lydia considered waiting until he had dressed, but there seemed little point. After all, he might decide to bathe before redressing.
“Would you like to take some refreshment, my laird?” She offered him the pot of tea, and the clean cup.
“Och, twould be welcome enough. Give me a moment.” Laird Ranald stepped around her and ducked his head roughly into the horse trough, then came up with a toss of his head that showered Lydia with water droplets. She startled in response, and the cup of tea she’d poured for him tipped and spilled.
Hot tea splashed over both of them, and the ground between them. Lydia winced, blushing furiously as the tea splattered over Laird Ranald’s arm. “I am sorry. I did not mean…”
“’Tis nae matter.” Laird Ranald shook the liquid off, then eyed the slightly reddened skin. “I’ve suffered worse eatin’ me supper.”
“I am certain. It is only…” Lydia lowered her eyes in embarrassment. “I had meant to bring the tea as a thank you for the dress… and it seems a poor token of gratitude to give you burns instead.”
Laird Ranald snorted, the sound more amused than anything. “’Tis me own fault, fer showerin’ ye with water and startlin’ ye. At least I didnae have tae rescue ye from fallin’ again.”
Lydia smiled, embarrassed by the reminder of her various mishaps. “Shall I pour you another cup then?”
“’Twould be appreciated.” Laird Ranald stepped around her to collect his shirt and don it, then took the cup carefully from her hands. He sipped it, then nodded and drank more deeply, appreciation softening his stern expression. “Ye’ve been payin’ attention tae me preferences.”
“Of course. What sort of maid would I be if I did not?”
“I suppose.” A soft clanging sound echoed over the courtyard, and Laird Ranald looked up. “’Tis the changin’ o’ the guards. Means the mornin’ meal will be served soon. Ye should go dress, eat, then bring me the meal in me study.”
“As you will, my laird.” She would have liked to stay and speak with him longer, but she had given him her gratitude, and she knew a dismissal when she heard one. With a final smile, she accepted the now empty cup from him.
Sparks seemed to tingle across her fingers at the brush of her hand against his, but Lydia put the sensation out of her mind and gave a curtsy. “I will have your meal for you soon.”
With that, she turned away and hurried inside, her steps light.
She had feared that revealing the truth would mean the end of her duties, or perhaps make her feel resentful of having toserve, but that was not the case at all. Instead, she found herself smiling as she hurried to dress for the morning meal.
Donall sighed as trudged through the darkened hallways of Ranald Keep. The past two days had been an exercise in frustration and futility, leaving him weary with the seeming uselessness of everything he attempted.
His search of the peat bogs had been fruitless. He and Ewan had found the markers Ewan had left at the beginning of the trail easily enough, and Ewan was sufficiently skilled and experienced to be certain they’d not been moved to create a false trail. Even so, all their efforts to follow the trail of the mysterious riders beyond that point had ended in failure.
By the end of the day, Donall had lost count of the number of peat bogs he had stumbled into, mud pits he had nearly lost a boot to, and trails that had ended in dead ends and murky pools. He had traced every path he knew through the marshlands twice and thrice over, but to no avail. If the riders had used one of the known paths, they had taken care to hide their trails. And if it wasn’t one of the paths his clan was familiar with, it would take a miracle to find it without guidance.
The marshlands and peat bogs were always changing, and he knew it as well as anyone. The knowledge didn’t lessen the frustration of failure. He’d ridden back to the keep tired and filthy, and so irritable that he hadn’t even summoned Lydia toattend him, nor bothered to discover her reaction to the sky-blue dress.
He had no ideawhyhe’d chosen to purchase it - it had been pure impulse that had prompted him to buy it - impulse, and a sudden desire to see what she would look like wearing it.
Donall smiled slightly.
At least I ken that the dress is appreciated.
