Highland Storms (18 page)

‘
M-my swain? Whatever do you mean?’ Marsaili sat up straight and turned to stare at him. ‘I’m not promised to anyone.’

‘
Oh? I was given to understand … but perhaps I misunderstood.’

‘
You most certainly did.’ Marsaili gritted her teeth to contain the anger welling up inside her. If Seton was going around telling people she belonged to him, it was the outside of enough.

Brice held up his hands. ‘Fine, I believe you and I apologise. I didn’t mean to cause offence.’

Marsaili settled back down and tried to calm herself. It wasn’t Brice’s fault after all, so she shouldn’t take it out on him. ‘No, I’m the one who should apologise. It’s a bit of a touchy subject, is all.’

‘
I swear I’ll never so much as mention it again,’ Brice averred.

Marsaili just nodded, but after a short while she had to ask. ‘What did he say?’

‘
What? Oh, no one said anything to me, it’s just that from the looks I received whenever I talked to you, I gathered … but obviously I was wrong. Really, I’m sorry.’

Marsaili was relieved to know Seton wasn’t telling anyone he thought she’d soon succumb to him. It was bad enough him glaring at the laird when she was near him. One of these days, she’d have to make him understand she’d never be his. ‘Please, forget it,’ she murmured.

They munched on bread and cheese for a while and Marsaili felt strangely peaceful sitting here with Brice. She realised that apart from his first visit, he’d never ogled her the way other men did or made her feel uncomfortable. He did have a strange effect on her body, but not because he was consciously doing anything, except perhaps teasing gently.

‘
So when were you going to tell me we’re related?’ he asked, closing his eyes and leaning his head back when he’d finished his meal.

‘
I didn’t think it was relevant. I’ve never thought of myself as your kin, no matter what Mrs Kinross says.’

‘
Well, you should. You
are
kin, she’s right about that. And she clearly likes you, which in the circumstances is somewhat unusual.’

‘
She’s a very kind woman.’ Marsaili spoke from the heart. She’d never had a harsh word from Ailsa and certainly no reproaches for being who she was.

‘
Yes, indeed.’ Brice turned to look at her and Marsaili drew in a sharp breath. He was so close, those heavenly eyes only inches from hers. They held her enchanted, she simply couldn’t look away. If he leaned forward just a fraction more, his nose would touch hers and his lips … She swallowed hard and blinked. His eyes crinkled at the corners and he smiled at her. ‘I’m glad you chose the green silk, it will be perfect on you as it matches your eyes.’

Marsaili knew she was blushing, but an answering smile tugged at her mouth. ‘Why, thank you, but … I really shouldn’t have it. You must have meant it for Mrs Kinross.’

‘
Can you keep a secret?’ he asked and she noticed his gaze had turned serious all of a sudden. She nodded. ‘To tell you the truth, all the silks were bought for someone else, but she didn’t deserve them, so I just brought them with me when I left Sweden. I’m afraid I had no thought of being kind to Aunt Ailsa or anyone. Does that make you think badly of me?’

‘
No. At least you didn’t sell them for profit and you’ve now made several people very happy by giving them away.’

‘
True. Still, it wasn’t very noble of me to pretend I’d brought it for her and my cousins.’

‘
I think they’d forgive you.’ Marsaili laughed. ‘I should think any woman would forgive a man who gave them something so exquisite. Did you really buy them yourself in China?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve been there twice and each time I purchased my fair share of goods, silk included.’

‘
Was that how you learned to climb, the way you did when you rescued Archie?’

‘
Yes. I was up and down the rigging with all the other sailors. My father thinks I’m mad, but I love it. The view from up a tall mast is incredible. Fair makes your stomach do somersaults.’

Marsaili shuddered at the thought. ‘I don’t think I’d like it. Going to China, though, that must have been wonderful. You are so lucky. To sail to faraway places and see the world …’ She sighed wistfully.

‘
And eat rotten meat and drink water with maggots in it for weeks on end, oh, yes, lovely.’ It was Brice’s turn to laugh when Marsaili made a face. ‘It’s not as great as it sounds, but I admit the sights more than made up for all the hardships.’

‘
You’re just teasing,’ she accused.

‘
A little, but I’m serious too. I’m glad I went, but I have no wish to go again. From now on, I’ll leave it to others.’

‘
Will you tell me about the good things some time?’

‘
What, like the giant squid with tentacles eight yards long that nearly capsized the ship?’

She punched him on the arm, which felt a bit like hitting a stone wall. ‘Stop it.’

He chuckled. ‘Very well. I’ll tell you about my adventures whenever you like. But I may require some form of inducement, because it will be hard work remembering them all.’

‘
What sort of inducement?’ She peered at him suspiciously.

He bent to whisper in her ear. ‘One kiss for each tale.’ Then before she had time to protest or even gather her wits, he jumped to his feet and called out that it was time to go back to work.

She could only be glad no one had been sitting within earshot of them.

Brice didn’t know why he’d asked Marsaili for kisses. He knew very well he shouldn’t get involved with her, especially now he’d found out she wasn’t just a servant. Ailsa would have his hide if he tried anything. But there was no denying Marsaili was extremely beautiful and he felt drawn to her almost against his will.

Truth to tell, he’d been tempted to kiss her there and then, but of course he could do no such thing. It would have been tantamount to a declaration of intent and that was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t leg-shackling himself to any woman any time soon.

Thoughts of marriage inevitably made him remember Elisabet, but to his surprise the pain which usually accompanied the image of her in his mind didn’t come this time. He frowned, then realised that when he closed his eyes it wasn’t Elisabet he saw, but Marsaili. And if he compared the two, he didn’t find his new cousin wanting.

That was odd.

He glanced over to where Marsaili was kneeling on the ground, expertly tying up a sheaf of barley. It was hard work, painful on the skin of the wrists and forearms, but she seemed oblivious and worked quickly. Her amazing hair flashed in the sunlight where it escaped the thick plait dangling across her shoulder. She moved with grace and there was strength in her capable hands and arms. As for her figure … well, no man could complain about that. Although she was tall – much taller than Elisabet, who had been more like a small porcelain doll and fine-boned with it – she was perfectly proportioned. Brice turned away.

This wouldn’t do. Women couldn’t be trusted, no matter how lovely they were to look at. He’d learned that lesson now and he wouldn’t forget.

Still, a little flirtation now and again couldn’t hurt, could it? As long as he didn’t go too far.

After a week and a half of hard work, the crops were all safely stowed indoors. Marsaili was bone weary, but felt a great sense of achievement as she made her way back from the fields on the final day with the others. Everyone was in a good mood, looking forward to the harvest feast Brice had ordered for the following day.

Brice himself walked at the front of the group, next to Seton who had taken no part in the harvesting other than as an overseer. Marsaili glared at the factor’s back. She’d heard someone say Seton was pleading some aches and pains as an excuse for not helping, but she knew he’d consider manual labour beneath him. He’d never done anything menial for as long as she’d known him.

He and Brice appeared to be arguing and she lengthened her stride until she was within earshot.

‘
We’re not
graddaning
. I told you, that’s an appalling waste,’ she heard Brice say. ‘You know we need the straw this year.’

‘
But it’s how things are usually done here,’ Seton replied, his mouth set in a mulish line. ‘Always have. I think you’ll be hard put to find anyone willing to do anything else.’

‘
We’re not burning anything. This year we’re doing it my way, by threshing, and if it doesn’t work, next year I’ll listen to you.’

‘
They won’t do it, I tell you.’

‘
They will if they wish to eat this winter,’ Brice countered, clearly adamant. Seton opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue further, but Brice didn’t give him the chance. ‘Hold on,’ he said and stopped abruptly, then jumped up to stand on top of the nearest stone dyke wall. ‘A moment,’ he shouted. ‘Can I have your attention, please?’

Everyone came to a halt and shuffled closer, looking from Brice to the factor, whose expression was far from happy.

‘
Mr Seton and I disagree on the small matter of how to extract the grain. I say we should be threshing and winnowing, while Mr Seton would prefer burning as has apparently been the custom here.’ There were a few perplexed looks, but also some nods from the crowd. ‘Well, let me ask you this – would you do some hard work now for a couple of weeks and keep enough cattle alive over the winter to feed your families, or would you rather starve?’

There was an angry protest from Seton. ‘Now see here,’ he began, ‘you can’t just come and force your foreign ways on us willy-nilly.’

‘
I’m not,’ Brice countered and gestured towards the people around them. ‘I’m asking them to choose.’

Seton opened his mouth to protest some more, but before he could say anything else, one of the men spoke up. ‘I’m for threshing,’ he declared and took a step forward as if showing his solidarity with Brice. ‘I’m tired o’ seein’ the weans go hungry.’

Another man nodded. ‘Makes sense to me.’

‘
And me.’ Sandy
Mo
r joined them, as did his son.

Some muttering broke out among the other men, but most of them eventually sided with Brice. ‘Aye, we’ll dae it if ye promise we can hae our fair share.’

‘
I promise,’ Brice said. ‘I know it’s a long, onerous job, but if we make sure the threshing barn is next in line to have its roof repaired, there’s no rush. We can take turns after dark when all other chores are finished. Agreed?’

‘
Yes, I’ll see to it.’ Sandy nodded.

‘
Good, we don’t want any water seeping in and ruining things. I’m not taking any chances, the grain is precious.’

Brice turned to Seton, who just shrugged. ‘Be it on your head,’ he said and strode off. Marsaili shivered as she noticed the dagger look Seton threw his new master before he left. It didn’t bode well. She could understand why Brice was against
graddaning
since it was rather wasteful, but Seton had been correct in that it was the custom here. She only hoped Brice was right to insist on new ways.

The crowd dispersed and set off again. Those who were not returning to their homes in the township soon entered the courtyard of Rosyth House just behind Brice and found him standing next to a small, black-clad man by the steps to the main door. Marsaili felt her heart skip a beat, since she recognised him all too well. Mr Keil was a preacher who’d been shown the door the last time he’d visited and had been asked never to return to Rosyth.

Yet here he was.

It was obvious Brice had no idea who the man was or that he wasn’t just an ordinary clergyman. He was talking to him politely and indicated he was welcome to enter
the house. Marsaili wanted to rush forward and stop
him, but decided it might be better if she warned Brice in private. She glanced at Seton, who seemed to have been waiting near the house. He had ordered the preacher to leave not two months previously, but he was keeping his mouth shut now.

Marsaili frowned. Something wasn’t right.

She followed the others indoors, but instead of going to her room to wash and change, she waited until she saw Brice excuse himself and head for the master bedchamber. Making sure no one was looking her way, she followed him swiftly and caught up with him just outside his door.

‘
A moment please, my lord,’ she whispered.

He turned, surprise in his eyes. ‘Marsaili? What …?’

She put a finger to her lips and gestured for him to go inside. He smiled and did as she asked, closing the door behind them. ‘I didn’t realise you were so impatient for those stories I promised you,’ he said with a grin. ‘Or maybe it was the inducement you craved?’ Before she could protest, his arms went around her and he pulled her close. She gasped and looked up at him, but in the next moment he stole her breath by putting his mouth on hers.

Marsaili forgot everything and just revelled in the feel of his lips caressing hers in the most wondrous fashion. She’d been kissed before, but always roughly and against her will. This was different. It was as if he was asking permission to continue by moving so slowly she could have broken it off any time. For some reason that only made her want more. She allowed him to nibble at her lower lip and stroke it with his tongue. He carried on, deepening the kiss and she reciprocated. It seemed her own tongue had a will of its own and it wanted to twine with his.

He tasted of ale and smelled like straw, dust and male. They were both filthy and hot after the long day’s work, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the wonderful feeling of being held by him, worshipped with his mouth.