Page 28 of Sweet Home Highlander
Hamish hadn’t stopped grinning. “A beautiful woman is in yer bed, and ye want to sleep inmykeep?”
“What of it?”
“Where in God’s name are yer ballocks?”
Hamish hadn’t seen Niall’s right hook coming, but it had shut the mouthy clotheid up for at least a quarter of an hour. Still, the ribbing had rubbed Niall raw. Whywasn’the in his own bed? Why had he allowed some scheming woman to take up residence in his own home? And worse, allowed her to displacehim? He was the damned laird.
Niall wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it wasn’t that he was afraid of Aisla. He was afraid of himself. His lust had only grown, until it raged like a caged monster inside his body every time she was near. The sound of her lilting voice made his chest clench, the scent of her made his brain scramble, and hell, the sight of her made walking nigh impossible.
But he would die before letting RonanorAisla win, despite being caught between the two wagers. Changing Aisla’s mind about him and winning her over should have gone hand-in-hand with Aisla’s challenge to see who could seduce whom first. Seduce her, win her affections again. Win both wagers in one fell swoop.
What Niall had not prepared himself for was just how out of control he felt whenever Aisla entered a room. He had to maintain the upper hand, but thus far, all he’d felt while in her presence was undiluted longing, irritation, and teeth-gnashing confusion.
The ride to Edinburgh had been two fold. He would see his solicitor regarding progress on the divorce, and he would find relief with a courtesan. Anything to offset the need building inside of him like a storm tide, or else he would likely take his tempting siren of a wife and toss her skirts over her head. And losethatwager in the process.
The thought of scrubbing his debt with Ronan had paled in comparison to the physical torture he’d subjected himself to. And that was only after one week. The real danger, however, came from the fact that outside of his sexual frustration, he was starting tolikehaving her around. In typical Aisla fashion, she had not spent her days doing nothing, but had taken it upon herself to renovate and brighten the great hall.
An expansive space that had once been bland and uninspiring, was now covered in tapestries and furniture she’d purloined from Maclaren, with his mother’s help, he suspected, along with sweet-scented rushes in the hearth. She’d also arranged for a cook. The scullery maid’s mother who had made the delectable roast chicken pie. The one he’d found Aisla enjoying by herself in the kitchens, a few buttery crumbs clinging to her full, lower lip.
Niall’s groin throbbed.Hell, he couldn’t even think of sodding pie without getting aroused. The wager wasn’t the only thing at risk of being lost. He was about to lose his dashed mind.
Leaving his horse with a groom, he entered the offices of his solicitor, also his father’s longtime advisor.
“You’re looking well, Laird Maclaren,” the bespectacled man with a balding pate said. “Please have a seat.”
“And ye, Stevenson.” He didn’t waste time getting to the point. “Have ye been successful in finding the documents? I cannae believe it will take six weeks. My wife is eager to return to Paris.”
“Six weeks?” he asked with a quizzical frown.
“Yer messenger a week ago advised that she should stay in Scotland for a few weeks to a month or so.”
He shook his head. “No, my laird, my message said it might behoove the lady to return home until the documents are found.”
Niall blinked. And then sighed.The duchess.What purpose could she have for wanting to keep Aisla in Scotland? She wouldn’t have known about the wager he’d made with Ronan. Surely, she did not hope for reconciliation? He and Aisla were different people, living in different worlds. The attraction might still be there, but despite his intention to use it to win the wager and erase his debt to Ronan, it was not the basis for a marriage. Not one that lasted anyway.
“Have ye found them?”
The man shook his head. “Not yet. The records in Inverness are in shambles, and according to the register clerk, it will take weeks to sort through.” He paused, a frown creasing his brow. “They cannot seem to find any record of your marriage.” At Niall’s expression, he rushed to continue. “Though, however, they have assured me that they are still looking.”
“We signed a book. With witnesses.” The witness had been the vicar’s own son, if Niall recalled correctly. Or perhaps it’d been his footman. More than one person had been in their cups that night, including him.
“Several ledgers are missing, laird.” He fumbled with the papers on his desk. “That vicar in particular had a problem with spirits.”
Niall’s gaze narrowed. “What are ye saying?”
“I will get to this bottom of this, but it will take time. Once we are able to locate the records, we will be able to proceed with the divorce in the courts.” He cleared his throat discreetly. “With the duke’s influence, and the uncontested grounds of desertion and adultery, it should be accomplished within months, if that is still your wish.”
“It is.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Proceed.”
“Laird Maclaren,” Stevenson began. “If I may be so bold, I have known your family a long time. I consider the duke a dear friend, and you are like my own son. Is there any way your marriage can be saved?” Niall’s brows contracted in warning, but Stevenson marched on. “I fear it will devastate your father, you see.”
The Duke of Dunrannoch might have been bedridden for months, but he still enjoyed making his desires heard.
“Has he sent word?” Niall asked. A part of him regretted that he hadn’t confided in his father, but he hadn’t wanted to add to his burdens. And more importantly, he’d been ashamed to acknowledge his failure as a husband. He shook his head, shrugging off the faint touch of guilt.
“No, but I know he would want you to be happy. All of his children.” The solicitor paused delicately. “And while your estranged situation is singular in nature, there’s no reason for you not to take your wife in hand now that she’s returned.”
Niall laughed drily. “If ye kenned my wife, ye would understand how ludicrous a statement that is. She wants the divorce, Stevenson, to marry another.” The man’s eyes widened, but Niall held up a staying hand. “And I owe it to my clansmen to find a Scottish lass who wants to be their lady. My father will understand that it’s best for the whole clan.”
