Page 16 of Highlander's Secret Heiress
“Do you know that when I was a wee girl, my Mammy used to read stories to me?” Alyth said. Davina shook her head.
“My favourite ones were the stories about handsome princes and beautiful princesses,” she went on. “And fairies because they were always so good and kind. Would you like a story like that tomorrow night?”
Davina smiled and nodded eagerly. This time it took a little longer for her to fall asleep, and when she eventually did, her eyes drifting closed, Alyth sat beside her for a long time, gazing tenderly at the little girl’s face.
Suddenly, she realised that the Laird’s daughter had come to mean a lot to her, and she guessed that Davina felt the same way about her. How had this happened?
“You know, Davina, I can understand your pain better than anyone. I lost my mother a few years ago, too, and my world went to shreds. There is only one thing that can ease my pain, but I am not sure if I can find it any more. If only you could help me,” Alyth whispered to the sleeping Davina. “I know your father has the necklace. Where should I look for it, huh?”
Alyth sighed and stood up, then kissed Davina’s forehead before she tiptoed out of the room. What was Davina going to do when she left? Because Alyth knew that eventually she would have to leave Leithmuir and go back to her own home, and this would make both of them unhappy. It might even drive Davina back into her shell again.
She looked out of one of the windows in the corridor as she made her way to bed and saw the moon riding across the sky. It was almost, but not quite full, and she was reminded of a similar night when she was about twelve years old.
She was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder in front of the fire, feeling comfortably dozy and warm. They were looking out of the window at the same three-quarter moon, and her mother was reading aloud, but this time it was a love story.
Alyth had grown out of children’s picture books, so Lady MacAdams had gradually introduced her to more adult works of fiction while gently breaking Alyth into the knowledge about what her duties for the clan would one day be; marry for an alliance and produce an heir. That evening she had come to the end of her explanation, and Alyth had gazed at her in astonishment.
“You mean, you and Da…” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes, and we love each other very much, Alyth,” she said gently, as she kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Sometimespeople who are married don’t love each other, then it can be only the act two people do to have a baby, but your father and I loved each other almost from the first time our eyes met. I hope that happens to you when you marry.”
Then she smiled, a glowing, happy expression that Alyth never forgot. She recalled it now, however, as she looked at the moon and sighed. Would she ever feel like that about anyone? Somehow, she doubted it.
It had been a long, exhausting day, and when Alyth reached her room she lay down in her bed, thinking. Despite her attempts to avoid him, Laird Carrick seemed to have been everywhere she looked that day. He always stared at her with a face that was devoid of expression, as if it was a mask he had put on just for her, since he seemed animated and friendly to everyone else.
Perhaps it was her imagination, she thought, but the more she considered the matter, the less likely that possibility seemed to be. No, there was definitely an expression that he reserved especially for her, and it was so impenetrable that it might as well have been a suit of armour that she could never pierce.
Alyth shifted in her little bed, trying to wriggle into a comfortable position, but it was too narrow, and the thin straw pallet underneath her was anything but soft. For someone who was used to sleeping on well-stuffed feather mattresses, it was torture. However, she consoled herself with the fact that at least she had a roof over her head and enough to eat. Yet, she knew she would become accustomed to the bed in time, but in the meantime she would have to suffer.
Eventually, Alyth fell asleep, but realised after a few moments that she was not alone in the bed. An arm was drapedover her waist and there was a warm body pressed against her back. But strangely, although there was someone else in the narrow bed with her, it had suddenly become more spacious. Alyth had no trouble turning around to face whoever was lying behind her, and almost cried out when she saw Lachlan Carrick.
His eyes were closed, he was breathing deeply and evenly, and there was even a hint of a smile on his face. Presently, as she watched, his eyes opened and looked straight into hers.
“Alyth,” he murmured, and she realised with a shock that he had not called her Jeannie, the false name she had been using since she arrived in Leithmuir.
Her heart began to beat a wild tattoo, and she stared at him, unable to think of what to do next. Should she humour him? Pretend to be outraged and tell him to leave? She knew that many men of his class used their maid servants to satisfy their carnal needs, whether or not they were willing, but she had not thought him one of those men.
Now she stared at him as his smile widened, and he brought a hand up to cup her cheek, then he pulled her towards him, and to her shock, planted a soft kiss on her lips.
Alyth was even more astounded as he touched her lips with his tongue tip, begging to be allowed entrance to her mouth. She was startled by her own response as she allowed him inside to let her tongue tangle with hers. Her body began to tingle, and she strained against him as she felt his big hands begin to roam over her from her shoulders, over her breasts, down over her flat stomach. He cupped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her closer, all the while rubbing against her in a way that made her body sing with delight.
When his lips left hers, Lachlan looked into her eyes again before kissing her softly once more, but when Alyth opened her eyes again he was gone. She reached out her hands to see if she could find him, but he was not there, and her spirits sank.
The bed had shrunk to the same narrow width it had been before, and she felt like weeping as she turned over to sleep, having abandoned her.
Hours passed, during which she was tortured by thoughts of Lachlan Carrick. She hated him, did she not? Yet, why was her whole being singing with delight at the thought of him?
Alyth dozed intermittently, not fully awake but not sleeping either, and at some time before dawn she gave up and rose from bed. She had kept the trousers she had been given before, and now she put them on, then lit a candle and tiptoed outside.
It was a cloudy night, but a full moon lit the sky behind them, and Alyth could clearly see the grounds where the guards trained with their swords and bows. There were targets set up in a row along one of the walls, but arrows striking them would be too noisy, she decided, so she opted for a sword with which to fight an imaginary enemy.
Accordingly, she went to the weapons store and picked out a medium-sized broadsword, then visualised a fierce and well-trained enemy in front of her.
She attacked him fiercely, growling in fury as she thrust and sliced, backing her imaginary enemy into a corner and finishing him off with a savage swipe. It was only then that she realised she had been fighting Lachlan Carrick, and her head spun in confusion. A few hours ago, she had been dreaming of him making love to her, for heaven’s sake!
What is wrong with you, Alyth?she thought as she moved back to the centre of the training field to begin again.
Dawn was just beginning to streak the sky, and it was slowly becoming lighter; soon the castle would be waking for the day, and Alyth did not wish to take the risk of being found out. She decided to go through one more bout, then go back to her chamber and dress for the day, since it promised to be a long, tiring one, full of even more laundry.
