Lana and the Laird (36 page)

“Nonsense!” The beads of sweat on Stafford's brow belied his calm tone.

Bah! No matter what he said or did, Stafford would deny everything, the worm. But then, he had to. What he'd been inciting was no less than treason to the Crown. “I think it's time for you to leave,” Lachlan said coldly. “And believe you me, Prinny will hear of this. This and the treachery you were planning with Scrabster.” He stared down the marquess. “We found some very interesting letters in Scrabster's strongbox. Before we blew up his castle, of course.”

Stafford's gaze flicked nervously around the room. “You …
you
 … blew up his castle?”

“Your informants dinna tell you that?” Susana quipped. Her grin was wide.

Lachlan shrugged, a casual lift of a shoulder, combined with the clench of a biceps—one that snagged Stafford's attention. “
Someone
blew up his castle. I couldna say who. I canna help wondering … whose castle might be next.” He smiled slowly. “If indeed you have one after the prince hears of what you and Scrabster had planned.”

Stafford went pale, then pink to his ears. His lips flapped. “Lies. It's all lies. Scrabster is a liar!” he bellowed.

Lachlan's smile widened at the unintended confession. He knew he had him. Stafford was mincemeat now. He couldn't help but add, “And what I just heard? Your threats on my life? Were those lies, too?”

“I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” he sputtered.

Lachlan ignored his protestations. There was no point to address them. “I suggest you see to your accounts, Stafford. Good day.” As the marquess pushed past him, no doubt in a rush to escape such humiliation, he muttered, “And good luck.”

The bastard would need it, once Lachlan was through with him.

“Well,” Susana huffed, once the marquess had made his retreat. “
That
was fun.”

Lachlan snorted. Though there was a hint of sarcasm in her tone, it had been fun. But the altercation had filled him with a sudden resolve. While Stafford had been momentarily cowed, Lachlan didn't expect for an instant that being caught had caused him to grow a conscience. A man so arrogant, so willing to flagrantly bandy about such a foul plot wouldn't simply cease his scheming. Aside from that, this intrigue likely had deep roots. Stafford had been tending it for a while.

Lachlan's best bet was to go on the offense.

He turned to Magnus. “Do you have a study I could use? I should like to send this information to the prince at once.”

“Aye. Of course.”

He had other letters to write as well, reiterations of the ones he'd expected Dougal to deliver. And aside from that, now that he knew for certain Stafford had incited minions to treachery, and that he had been behind the attacks on Dounreay, he needed to talk with Alexander and his brother about establishing a watch around the castle.

The ever-present thought of Lana, and spending time with her as he'd been plotting to do, arose. He determinedly thrust it away.

For the moment, he had much work to do. Suddenly his afternoon was very full, which was a damn shame.

He would much rather have spent the afternoon with her. Someplace … private.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was wonderful being home, Lana thought as she made her way through the halls to the library to find a book. It was late afternoon, and she found herself at a loose end. Most specifically, because she couldn't find Lachlan and was loath to knock on his door.

The familiarity of Dounreay Castle settled around her like a cloak as she greeted each and every ghost like an old friend. But something was different. Something had shifted. It was as though her heart knew, this was no longer her
place
.

The library was one of her favorite rooms, an enormous chamber two stories high with shelves running the length of each wall, interrupted only by the windows on either side and the gallery ringing the east wall.

She strolled along the shelves, pretending to study the books, but in truth her mind was possessed of other thoughts. She thought about him a lot, more than she should, but she couldn't help it.

The sensual explorations of the past few days had been life-changing for her. Oh, she knew she loved him. She'd known for a while. But their physical sharing had sealed him in her heart and soul. It had been everything she'd ever dreamed of and more.

She knew—
knew
—they were meant to be together forever.

If only he would come to see it, too.

“There you are.”

Lana spun around, her heart fluttering at Lachlan's familiar voice.

“What are you doing here in the library?”

She shrugged and trailed her fingers over a few spines. His gaze tracked the movement with a hungry intent. “Just browsing.”

His smile widened. He kicked the door shut with his heel. Stalked her. “Do you browse much?”

“Only when I've nothing to do.”

“Have you nothing to do?” This he said with a tone that made her smolder. It was a surprise her touch did not set the books aflame.

“Not a thing.”

“How splendid. I've been busy all afternoon.” He flexed his fingers as though they itched to close on her.

“How was your meeting with Stafford?”

A shadow flickered over his expression, and she wished she hadn't asked. “Much as I expected it would be, but at least it confirmed my suspicions about him.”

“Your suspicions?”

Lachlan nodded. “He's been inciting rebellion among my barons.”

“Oh, dear.” She didn't like that. She didn't like that in the least.

“And with what he told your father, apparently he intended to murder me … and blame my curse.”

She didn't know why he laughed at that. It wasn't funny in the slightest. It was horrifying.

“Oh, don't look like that.” He edged closer. “I can protect myself, and now I have been warned. Aside from that, Dunnet has insisted on setting up a guard for me.”

She pointedly scanned the guardless room, and he laughed again.

“I lost them.” He shrugged. His grin was charming. “Surely I am safe in the library. With you.”

“You are always safe with me.”

“And here we are. Alone. And all my work is done. Are you sure you have nothing else to do?”

She smiled at him. “Not a thing.”

“No unpacking?”

“All done.”

“No catching up with your sisters?”

“They are napping.”

“No games with Isobel?”

“She's gone out to shoot her bow.”

His lips quirked. “She's a fierce thing, isn't she?”

“Aye. She's a Dounreay to the core.”

“True. And you are, all of you, rather daunting.”

“Surely I am not daunting. Susana, naturally. Hannah, of course, if you cross her. And Isobel has her terrifying moments. But I'm not frightening in the slightest.”

“You frighten me.”

Surely he was bamming her. “How do I frighten you?”

In response, he lifted a finger and traced her cheek. Which really, was no answer at all.

“Lachlan … How do I frighten you?”

“Do you no' know?”

“I doona.”

“Ah, Lana.” He stepped closer and his scent surrounded her, musky and manly, making her head spin. His finger traced her jawline and then he used it to tip up her head and hold her still, although there was no need. She was right where she wanted to be.

His eyes glinted as he neared. His breath brushed her cheeks. His warmth enfolded her.

It was hellish, waiting for his lips to touch hers, and he seemed to know this, drawing the moment out, stretching her on a rack of anticipation. But when his mouth covered hers, it was heaven on earth. She opened to him with a sigh, and he responded in kind, folding her into his arms and holding her close.

“God, I've missed you.”

She chuckled through the kiss. “I'm right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We were together last night.”

“I miss kissing you.” He kissed her again.

“I know.”

“Funny, isn't it, how quickly I got used to sleeping with you?”

Lana set her palm on his cheek. She felt the same way. It would be difficult spending the night without him. This night, and all the coming nights.

He pulled back to study her face. “I could … visit you. Or you could visit me.”

She arched a brow. “What about your guards?”

“We could be quiet.” It was adorable how ingenuous he was. They hadn't been quiet in the least. “My room does have that secret door…”

Ah. The secret door. She suddenly found it as intriguing as Isobel had and …
Oh, blast.
She had completely forgotten. “We canna. Not tonight. Isobel is sleeping in my room.”

His hopeful expression fell.

“She asked and I couldna refuse. She missed me.”

“I miss you more.” He was adorable. Like a wee lad denied a treat.

“I couldna refuse. She's been through quite a lot lately. Being kidnapped and blowing up castles and all … Surely you understand.”

“Not really.” But he smiled. “Damnation, I shall be cold tonight. I need you.” He nestled closer, close enough that she could feel the firmness of that need. It sent a shiver through her. She needed him as well. Her mind flittered through her options. Surely there was somewhere they could be private enough to—

The door opened.

They were both far too absorbed to react quickly enough, to spring apart as convention demanded they do. With dismay, Lana glanced around Lachlan's sturdy form and saw Hamish glaring at them from the hall. As he stormed into the room, Lachlan eased away, but not far and not quickly; his hand lingered on her back, as though in claim of her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Hamish muttered, his gaze flicking from one to the other.

Lana tipped up her chin. “Nothing.”

It wasn't precisely a lie. It
was
nothing. Nothing that was any of Hamish's business.

He turned to Lachlan. “Were you just kissing her?”

She expected him to deny it, but to her surprise Lachlan nodded. “I was.” His tone was almost … goading.

“Lana, what on earth are you thinking? Kissing the duke? Do you no' know how dangerous that is?”

“Dangerous?”

Hamish waved a hand in Lachlan's direction. “He's a duke.”

“Aye. I am aware of that.” Dear Hamish. He'd always had something of a tendre for her. But then, he had a tendre for several women. Whoever was available, to be precise. She couldn't allow his wounded expression to concern her.

“Dukes doona marry girls like you.”

“I am aware of that as well.” Very aware. Lana didn't understand Lachlan's frown.

“Dukes
use
girls like you. Use them and toss them aside when they are finished.”

“Now, see here,” Lachlan roared.

Lana set a hand on his arm to quiet him. “Hamish, I know what I am doing. It is my choice and I fully understand the consequences.”

Hamish stormed closer, attempting to step between them. Lachlan did not allow it, so he stood before her and scowled. “I doona think you do. This man will shred your reputation. Seduce you … and then leave. At best, he will break your heart. At worst, he will plant a bastard in your belly.”

Lachlan stiffened. His fingers curled to fists. He opened his mouth to respond, but Lana didn't allow him to speak. “Hamish, this is none of your business.”

“It most certainly is. You
kissed
me!”

Lachlan whirled to gape at her. “You kissed
him
?”

“It was long before we met. And I've kissed lots of men.” This, she said to placate Hamish. It didn't work.

Apparently, it didn't placate Lachlan, either. “You've kissed a lot of men?” A growl.

She patted his arm. “Only to see if I liked it.”

“
If you liked it?
” Both men. Bellowing. In tandem.

She tipped up her nose. There was no call for bellowing.

“What will your father say when I tell him what I saw?”

Lana shrugged. “Papa is verra open-minded.”

Hamish snorted. Probably because Papa wasn't open-minded in the least. “He will insist you marry him.” He thrust a thumb in Lachlan's direction.

Lachlan threw back his shoulders and tugged on his plaid. “And I would, of course.”

Lana gaped at him. Shock and delight flooded her … and then she caught the look in his eye and her mood tumbled. It wasn't a hopeful look or a happy look. It was a look of resignation. Aye, he would marry her, if he were forced to.

She wanted him, but she didn't want him
that
way.

Hamish's reaction to Lachlan's declaration was abrupt; his mouth snapped shut and he clapped his lips together. Likely, he wouldn't tell Papa a thing. He wouldn't tell anyone. The last thing he wanted was to force Lana to marry a man other than himself.

She tried not to be disappointed. It was for the best. Really it was. But deep inside, where no one could hear, her soul wailed.

Hamish turned his glower on Lachlan. “I suggest you be on your best behavior, Your Grace,” he said in a dark rumble. “I shall be watching you. I shall be watching your every move.”

Lachlan forced a casual smile. And then he purred, “Thank you for the warning.”

*   *   *

Dinner that evening wasn't as pleasant as it could have been, considering the fact that Hamish did indeed watch Lachlan's every move, which was, all things considered, unnerving. To make things worse, in a nod to convention Susana had seated Lachlan at the head of the table, far from Lana. He had to tip his head to even see her. And then, when he did, he saw Hamish as well, as the bastard was seated next to her.