Page 32 of Sweet Home Highlander
The lady had to have bypassed Maclaren all together if she had not yet heard the gossip.
“Once this is over, I hope to marry Lord Leclerc, the Frenchman currently staying at Maclaren. You must know your brother and I have been estranged, my lady,” Aisla replied softly. “It’s the reason I was in Paris, after all.”
“Aye.”
The woman’s answer was so quiet and so full of understanding that Aisla turned. The look of pain on her face was impossible to decipher, but Aisla felt an instant moment of connection. Of shared accord. Aisla frowned, belatedly noticing a fading bruise at her temple. She wondered at the secrets those eyes held…and what had brought her to Maclaren lands alone. Makenna caught her stare and ducked her head, a determined smile coming to her mouth.
“There’s only one thing to be said for it then,” Makenna announced cheerfully. “We must go shopping.”
Now, it was Aisla’s turn to be surprised. “Shopping?”
“If ye’re only here for a few more weeks, then we have lost time to make up for. And I have just the idea on how to do it. Let’s go spend my brother’s money and spruce up this old ballroom, shall we? Lord kens he willnae do it himself once ye’ve left. Let us throw a party with just us as guests! Or better yet, invite everyone around for miles.”
Aisla couldn’t help the delighted grin that was spreading over her face. Nor could she shy away from the break from loneliness that Niall’s sister was offering. And a thoroughly obnoxious way to pay him back for the wager he’d agreed to with his brother while regaining the upper hand.
“Something tells me Niall wouldn’t approve,” Aisla said, already thinking ahead to the shops in the village where he would, no doubt, hold several accounts. She well remembered his expression when he’d entered his bedchamber to find all the belongings she’d brought with her, spread out among his own things. He’d been second-guessing his strategy, Aisla was certain of it.
“Oh, he’ll be sour for days,” Makenna replied, and though she tried to sound somber, Aisla could easily hear her amusement. For the first time in days, she felt a twinge of mirth. “But it’s no’ as though he doesnae have the blunt to afford a little splurging on his wife’s part.”
Aisla would shop, all on her husband’s credit, until she fell from exhaustion. And if she enjoyed herself in the process with her sister-in-law, then all the better. She shoved away the sudden rush of guilt. She didn’t truly have the right to spend Niall’s hard-earned money. Then again, Makenna had said he wasn’t hurting for coin, and it would be a harmless bit of fun, with a mild dash of revenge thrown in. He’d sunk so low as to bet his brother he could change her mind about the divorce, after all.
Movement distracted her as Fenella hurried past the entrance to the ballroom. No doubt the malicious woman had been eavesdropping, ready to ferry news back to her master. Any guilt Aisla felt disappeared.
Aisla turned around and walked back toward Niall’s sister. “I would love that.”
Her eyes fell to the brooch Makenna had pinned to her plaid. It was a stunningly clear topaz stone, shaped in the form of a yellow rose with intricate gold filigree work around its edges fanning into a diamond shape. It was the loveliest piece of jewelry Aisla had ever seen, the craftsmanship truly exceptional.
“Your brooch is gorgeous.”
Makenna glanced down and frowned, something like confusion dawning in her eyes, as if Aisla should have known something she didn’t. “Er, thank ye. ’Twas a gift.” She hesitated. “Ye’re no’ familiar with the stones? They’re cairngorm crystals.”
Aisla shook her head. “I’ve seen several similar beautiful Scottish topaz pieces around the castle, in the hilts of dirks and such, but I’ve never seen anything like your brooch before. It’s exceedingly exquisite work.”
Makenna’s perplexed look was replaced by one of mischief, though the expression didn’t make sense to Aisla. “Aye, the design was hand-crafted by a local artisan.”
Aisla’s eyes widened in appreciation. “How wonderful.”
“The craftsman of the pieces is well esteemed in this area,” Makenna added. “Perhaps we will find ye something comparable in his shop in the village.”
“That would be splendid.”
Something to take with her, Aisla thought. A memento. For she would be leaving soon. When Niall finally returned to Tarbendale, she fully planned to either drive him to madness by foiling his wager with Ronan—or into her bed, and winning the one of her own.
Chapter Nine
Niall opened the crate that had been plunked down upon his study desk, and the scent of roses knocked him straight in the face. Soaps. At least twenty squared blocks of them sat nestled in golden straw. He glanced up at Angus, one of the young men he employed at Tarben Castle.
“What the devil is this?” he asked. Even though he knew. For the last few days, ever since he returned from Edinburgh, crates and packages had been arriving at the front doors to the castle. Velvet drapes, silk bedding, lacy doilies, a porcelain tea service, ivory combs and brushes, and carved jade trinkets—a dozen monkeys, peacocks, dragons, and even one well-hung bull—had been among the flood of newly purchased items.
Angus, hands clasped behind his back, looked nervously to the crate. “I think they’re soaps, laird.”
“Aye, I ken what they are,” Niall replied, his patience thinning by the moment. He didn’t mean to take it out on poor Angus, but hell, the boy was the only other person in the room. “Why have they been brought here, to me?”
Angus blinked. “Because the crate was addressed to ye, laird.”
He closed his eyes and restrained himself from shouting. “Aye, Angus, they haveallbeen addressed to me.”
Every last sodding package.
