Page 19 of Kilted Seduction
She was courteous as well. There were some women, he knew, who would have taken the chance of the temporary elevation in status to lord it over the servants who were required to follow their orders, but Thora MacTavish was not one of them. She was polite, to the point that Christopher sometimes had to remind her that a certain amount of distance would be expected of her. And even that did not stop the easy kindness with which she addressed everyone from the youngest page and scullery maid to Aedan himself.
She was intelligent, her wild beliefs in mystical powers notwithstanding. She learned the nuances of chess and the games of cards quickly, and by the third night, she matched wits with himself and Christopher nearly as well as if she’d done it all their lives. She might blush at some of the less delicate comments that passed between them, but she was rarely ever lost for a response.
She worked hard with Rhiannon, and the one time he sought out the seamstress to discover her opinion of Thora, Rhiannon had nothing but praise for her focus, her dedication, and her skill with a needle.
She was no less devoted to the task she’d set for the both of them, and threw herself wholeheartedly into the persona of the newLady Cameron, settling into the role so naturally it surprised him.
Thora MacTavish was no paragon of maidenly virtues, he had only to remember how she’d kidnapped him over a belief that she could see the future to know that. She was also stubborn, and sometimes her tongue could turn sharp. She apologized for it afterward, but that did not stop the words from cutting when she chose to let them. She was never discourteous to the servants, but she would only accept Aedan or Mac’s suggestions or commands to a point. Further than that, and her blue eyes would harden to chips of ice, her expression would tighten, and she would fight back. Their encounter in the stables was proof of that.
The fourth day after she’d kidnapped him, Aedan took her down to the stables to choose a mount for the journey. His recommendation would have been a placid, five-year-old gelding who was often used for pages and squires in training - a good horse for someone who’d lost control of her original mount in the storm and might struggle to control a more headstrong animal.
Thora, however, insisted on claiming the roan she’d used to kidnap him - a three-year-old named Steadfast. Steadfast was a good horse, but a more spirited one, and Aedan feared she would be unable to handle him.
He made the mistake of saying so. “Ye should have another horse… one o’ an easier temperament.”
Thora lifted her chin, expression turning cold. “And why? We’ll get on well together, yer Steadfast lad and I. We already have once afore.”
“Mayhap, but a horse with two riders is a steadier beast altogether. Ye said ye lost yer first in a storm. If another storm comes while we travel, ye’ll never control Steadfast.” Aedan knew from experience that the young stallion was near impossible to bring back under control if he got the bridle in his teeth.
“I made a mistake o’ dismounting to calm the animal. I’ll nae make that mistake again.”
“Doesnae mean the horse willnae throw ye.”
“Any horse might, in the proper conditions.” There was a glint of true defiance in her eyes. “I never met one yet, who wouldnae shy at the sight o’ a snake, or a wolf or wild dog, and a crack o’ thunder overhead would startle anyone, man or beast.”
“But if ye lose control o’ Steadfast, ye’ll never be able to bring him back down. Even I cannae stop him easily when he gets his head free. Ye’re so light, he’ll never even notice ye tryin’.”
“And what o’ it? If the horse will run, I’m small and light enough to stay on his back till he tires, then turn him back. And if he’s as Steadfast as his name, then he’ll be kind to a rider, and turn back when ‘tis needed.”
“And in the meantime, if ye run afoul o’ bandits or a moor swamp, or those wolves ye mentioned? What then?”
“Then I’ll find a way to win myself free or scream loud enough fer ye tae find me.”
The idea of her screaming his name - though in somewhat different circumstances, for averydifferent reason - was enough to check his thoughts momentarily. Not for more than a second, but long enough for him to recognize by the glint in her eyes that she had no intention of agreeing to any other mount. He could, of course, order the stable hands to saddle a different one for her on the actual day, but at best, it would cause more strife between them.
He gave in. “Have it yer way then, lass. But on yer head be the consequences, and dinnae expect me to rescue ye from them, nae without remindin’ ye that I warned ye.”
“If I need the reminder, ye’re welcome to give it.” Thora smiled, and Aedan, after a few more words with the head groom, returned to his paperwork.
He should have been angry at her defiance. He was the laird, and even if she was pretending to be his lover and his ‘wife’, she still should have shown more deference. And yet, as he sat down to his paperwork, he had to admit that it wasn’t anger that filled him. It was admiration.
Her defiance was a frustrating thing, but mostly because he feared she would come to harm, due to her own stubbornness.But he admired her willingness to stand by her decision, whatever might come of it. Her tenacity and her boldness in refusing to listen to his words - they were admirable, and he couldn’t help liking her better for those qualities.
And that, he knew, was what made Thora MacTavish dangerous. Not the knowledge she held about his clan, and the state of their coffers, but that incredible, spirited tenacity.
Trusting her was dangerous. Admiring her even more so, and actually developing a fondness for her was the most dangerous thing of all. He knew it. And yet, it didn’t stop his thoughts from lingering on her.
In other circumstances, he would have distanced himself, or even sent her away. But he had a part to play, of laird and lover, and new husband. Distance was not an option, not if he wished to convince Lachlan Ross of their relationship. Admiration and fondness made the role easier, even as they made him more uneasy with every passing day.
By the time this ends, the difficulty may nae be playin’ the part o’ lover and husband… but remembering ‘tis a role I took on only because she forced me tae, rather than by choice!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The day they were to leave for Ross Castle dawned cold and sullen, with snow flurries blowing through the courtyard in intermittent gusts of wind, and the promise of more and worse to come in the leaden gray clouds above. Thora had to admit, as she helped saddle Steadfast, that she would much rather have remained at Cameron Castle, to enjoy the Yule there. She’d had her fill already of traveling in such foul weather.
Had it not been for her visions, and her nightly dreams of looming catastrophe upon the lands, she might well have suggested they stay. Her premonitions, however, had not left her, and neither had the requirements to alter the future changed.
At least, she mused, she had good, warm garments to travel in, and a thick new cloak to try and remain warm, along with gloves that had been found somewhere, and a set of boots. The last were a bit large, but that was all for the better, as it allowed her to don two or three sets of thick, woolen stockings as addedinsulation against the chill. Her fingers would likely be frozen stiff by the time they reached shelter - Ross Castle, she hoped - but her feet might be spared the same fate.
