Page 31 of Highlander's Secret Heiress
“Sorry, Flora, I was miles away,” she said, shaking her head. She summoned up a yawn, then rubbed her eyes.
“So tell me—” Flora gave her a frown of mock severity. “What were ye dreamin’ about? Nothin’ ye couldnae tell your friends?”
She raised her eyebrows and put on a suspicious glare. Alyth punched her playfully on the shoulder.
“I was wondering what we were going to have for dinner tomorrow,” she replied innocently.
“Aye—an’ I’m the King’s mother!” Heather burst out laughing, and soon started a gale of mirth.
When the laughter was over, and they all went back to eating, Alyth reflected on how much she was going to miss this. Alyth wanted to hug every one of them and say goodbye, but she could not. She knew that if she told any of the women what she was about to do, their loyalty to Lachlan was such that they would immediately inform him.
They all trooped upstairs to bed at the end of their meal, and it was not too long before silence descended on the servants’ quarters. Alyth waited a while to make any move to pack her belongings. She wanted to be absolutely sure that there was no possibility of any of her friends waking up, since there was absolutely no way of talking her way out of her situation.
Alyth donned her breeches and the warmest clothing she had, then packed the rest of her meagre belongings into a jute sack that had contained wheat. Lastly, she put the pendant around her neck, fastened it, then tucked it under the neck of her tunic where it would stay safely hidden.
Alyth took a look around her cramped quarters; she was sad to leave the little room. It was as unlike her bedroom at her home in Cairnloch Castle as it was possible to be, but she would always associate it with good times. She sighed, picked up a candle to light her way downstairs, then made her way outside through the kitchen. There, she helped herself to some leftovers from supper and a few other pieces of food, as well as a flagon of ale.
The big room was still warm from the heat of the ovens, and Alyth inhaled the mixed aroma of roasting meat, baking bread, honey, and all the other assorted foodstuffs that had been prepared there over the years. She knew that the memory of that delicious smell would never leave her.
She tiptoed out, closing the door as quietly behind her as she possibly could, then crept across the courtyard to the stables. She had made a deal with one of the stable hands, bribing him to tell the Laird that she had drugged him and stolen a horse.
Alyth had chosen one of the horses that Lachlan had taken from the Robertsons with which to make her escape, after all, she could hardly be punished for stealing something that was already stolen! The horse was a stately black mare with a white blaze on her face, and the stable hand had assured Alyth that her temperament was quite calm and biddable.
Having retrieved the saddle and bridle from the tack room, Alyth saddled the mare and tightened the girth before raising one leg to mount the horse. However, her foot had just touched the stirrup when she felt the pressure of a heavy hand landing on her shoulder.
Startled, she looked around, and saw the last person she wanted to see.
14
Afterfinding Davina searching his desk drawers, something began to gnaw at Lachlan. Had his daughter known about this pendant, or had her curiosity merely been another part of her reawakening? He had pondered over the matter for some time before putting it to the back of his mind.
However, it was brought back to the foreground the next evening when he found himself unable to sleep again and decided to do some estate work to tire himself out. He knew he should simply try to relax and let sleep overtake him, no matter how long it took, but his brain was so alert and busy it simply would not rest.
He sighed irritably as he rose from bed and padded down to his study, where he poured a large measure of whisky before attempting to settle down to some work. However, as he reached into the bottom drawer of his desk again to find some quill pens, he noticed that the wooden box that had contained the pendant was missing.
Puzzled, he searched the whole drawer, taking out every item one by one and placing it on the desk to make sure he missednothing. At last, it was empty, and there was still no sign of the box.
Lachlan frowned deeply, feeling a surge of anger; there was no doubt where it had gone, since Davina was the only one who knew where it was. Sometimes he suspected that she used her disability to manipulate him. She might still be unable to speak fluently, but she could still think. However, he realised that the best person to ask about any subterfuge on his daughter’s part was Jeannie.
As soon as he thought of her, his body surged. Ever since their lovemaking, she had never really been out of his mind, and he longed for her in a way that he could not fathom. It was not mere lust, but something else—something he could hardly bear to admit to himself, even now.
Considering the effect she had had on Davina, even his mute daughter sensed that there was something extraordinary about her.
And at that moment he desired her even more than he had ever desired any woman before, not even his wife. Their loving had been tender and reverent, but Jeannie was different; there was a primitive nature to their pairing. She was not sweet, as Sandie had been, but hungry and passionate, and at that moment, so was he.
His arousal was so strong it was almost painful, and he knew he had to see her and talk over how he felt about her, but they would make love first.
It occurred to him, as he made his way up to her chamber, that she might not want him as much as he wanted her. Lachlan had never forced himself on a woman and never would, but he hoped that she felt the same as he did.
In spite of the fact that he was the Laird and had the keys to every room in the castle, Lachlan always preferred tocourteously knock at the door before he entered a room. He did so now, but tentatively, to avoid waking the other servants.
When there was no answer the first time, he tried again, then again, but after his fourth attempt he decided that Jeannie must be asleep, so he entered the room silently and looked around.
By the light of his single candle and the moonlight shining through the tiny window in the roof, he saw that the room was empty, and the bed had not been slept in. At first, he was puzzled, then astonished, and as he looked around, angry. Where had she gone?
The servants usually kept their clothes and personal belongings beside their beds, and that was the first place Lachlan looked for the answer to where Jeannie had gone.
The cupboard was empty except for Jeannie’s servant’s uniform. Lachlan picked it up and pressed his face into it, inhaling her scent, the smell that was her essence. It was a fragrance of the kitchen, the garden, and a peculiar musk that was all her own. He had inhaled it before while their bodies had been joined in passion, and he would have known it anywhere.
