Temptation in a Kilt (2 page)

Liddesdale, Scotland

“What do ye want me to do, Caroline? The coin is almost depleted.”

Rosalia wanted to cover her ears to shut out another of her parents’ heated arguments outside her bedchamber.

“We shall keep Cook, and Rosalia will need to attend us,” spat her mother, her voice ruthless. “I am through with idle chatter, Ronald. You need to offer her hand. It is the only way to fill our purse. Be a man for once in your miserable life. There is no other choice!”

Her father sighed with exasperation. “Caroline, ye cannae fail to notice she is a score and one, and the truth that she has nay dowry isnae too promising for prospective suitors. As ye know, the only prospect from court is Lord Dunnehl and he is most unpleasant.”

“He is not unpleasant, and you had best not treat him that way when he arrives on the morrow. Let me ask you, Ronald—have you given thought to how you will provide for me when the coin is depleted? No, of course not. When Lord Dunnehl comes to Mangerton, you shall be opening another means to fill our purse. After all, it is
your
responsibility to see the coffers filled, is it not?” Her voice was laced with sarcasm.

“We do not have to battle on this, Ronald. Offer her hand and you will see all of our worries gone. Furthermore,” she huffed, “after everything I do for you, this is the least you could do for me.”

Rosalia could not move.

That was the true reason why they had taken her to court. Rosalia was perfectly aware that marriages were arranged for coin, land, or title, but that was not the life she sought. Was it too much to ask for a husband who loved her and wanted her, who would make her feel like the only place she belonged was by his side? She was mindful of the fact that it was past time she wed, but how cruel to have a man as unsavory as Lord Dunnehl selected as her mate. The last thing she desired was to be caught in a loveless marriage—the same fate as her mother and father.

Although her sire had been born and raised in the Highlands, her mother was from England and refused to make the journey to the
barbaric
north. Rosalia had always been told that her father had given up everything upon his marriage to her mother, agreeing to reside at their estate at Liddesdale so her mother could cross the border to her beloved England. And Liddesdale was the northern most part of Scotland her mother was willing to go. Rosalia’s
seanmhair
, her father’s mother, still had her home in Glengarry, but Rosalia was never permitted to travel there. She had given up on asking the reason why long ago. As a result, her parents were all the family she knew.

Reluctantly, Rosalia proceeded to the great hall where her mother and father were already seated for the midday meal. Wiping her sweaty palms on her day dress, she walked to the table and slid out the heavy wooden bench, attempting to take her seat unnoticed. To her dismay, she failed. Her mother cleared her throat, raised her cheek, and waited. Having no choice, Rosalia grudgingly rose and kissed her mother’s uplifted cheek.

Nodding her head in approval, her mother gestured for Rosalia to take her seat for the second time.

“Rosalia, eat, but not too much. Your clothing is getting tighter around your midriff—again. Finish your meal and then we wish to have speech with you.”

“Aye, Mother.”

She had barely finished her meal when her trencher was yanked away. “That is enough. We have something to discuss with you.” Pausing, her mother took a sip of wine. “I want everything prepared and in order for Lord Dunnehl’s arrival. I will be inspecting.”

Rosalia stole a glance at her father. Clenching her jaw, she struggled to rein in her temper. Unfortunately, that did not assist her in holding her tongue. “Mother, if ye and Da are thinking of offering my hand, donna ye wish to ask my thoughts?”

Her mother rose in one fluid motion and hauled Rosalia from the bench. The fury that shot from her eyes was all too familiar, and Rosalia felt the sting of the slap before her words were finished. She lifted her hands to protect herself, but it was pointless.

Forceful hands continued to strike her.

“You. Ungrateful. Child. Your father and I have provided for you and expected nothing in return! You will wed Lord Dunnehl if we command you to wed him!”

“Mother, I beg ye!” cried Rosalia in a choking voice. Her hands covered her eyes and cheeks, and she wept aloud, rocking back and forth.

“Look at her, Ronald! She is daft. I live for the day when she becomes someone else’s burden.” Her mother’s hard voice held no sympathy. “Rosalia, enough of these tears. You will clear the table now and assist Cook. When you have completed that task, prepare for Lord Dunnehl’s arrival. I have had enough of your foolishness.”

Hot tears rolled down Rosalia’s cheeks and she lowered her head, staring at her hands. She could not bring herself to move. The smell of blood pulled her from her despair. Hastily, she grabbed for a rag on the table, applying it to her bleeding nose.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hear me, Rosalia?”

“Aye,” she answered, defeated.

After a hushed stillness, her father spoke. “Do as your mother commands and all will be well.”

“Aye, Father.”

Rosalia pulled herself to her feet and started to clear the table, pausing to wipe her bloodied nose. Glancing up, she saw James, the captain of her father’s guard, standing frozen at the entrance of the great hall. His grave expression told her all too clearly what he had witnessed. Rosalia face reddened with humiliation, and she kept her eyes down to the task at hand.

She spent the remainder of the day avoiding him. Several times he tried to capture her attention, but she pretended not to notice him. Rosalia recognized that her behavior was childish, but frankly, she did not have the energy to deal with James. Between worrying about her future and preparing for Lord Dunnehl’s visit, she was exhausted.

Rosalia was finally crawling into bed for another restless night when a familiar voice whispered her name through the door. It was senseless to ignore him. She donned a blanket and opened her bedchamber door. Sneaking a quick peek and observing no one in the hall, she walked out quietly and gently closed the door.

All she needed was to have a servant catch her sneaking about. Then she remembered that Ealasaid, the cook, was the only servant in quarters, and she silently chuckled.

Ealasaid was like a grandmother to her, and James, irksome as he was, was her best friend. Never did she have a romantic notion about him, unless she counted the time she made him kiss her to see what it was like. What a terrible kiss. Sharing a romantic kiss with someone who was like a brother was not something Rosalia desired ever to repeat.

Nightfall had arrived some time earlier and the main torches were extinguished. There were only a few lit, but she could have found her way even in the dark, having walked this path so many times. Climbing the steps to the parapet, she called his name.

“God’s teeth, woman, hush! I am here. Remind me ne’er to take ye into battle. The enemy would hear ye trampling from a distance before ye even got close enough to draw your sword,” said James with a trace of laughter in his voice. “Be thankful I havenae yet taken my sword to ye.” He smirked, tapping her playfully on the arm. “Howbeit the fates have tempted me so.”

Rosalia pointed a finger at him. “Annoying man—be truthful. The many words that spew from your cheek would put your enemy to sleep. Ye wouldnae even have to draw your sword. Ye would simply
bore
them to death,” she said, satisfaction pursing her mouth.

She watched him through the torchlight, his ash-blond locks reflecting the light. Unsheathing his sword, he leaned it against the stone wall. His expression stilled and grew serious. “Are ye hurt, Rosalia?”

She glanced away and out into the darkness. “’Tisnae as bad as the others. My head aches, but I shall be fine.”

James approached her and his eyes widened with concern. Raising his hand, he turned her head toward the torchlight. Gently brushing her cheek, he sighed.

Clutching her blanket, Rosalia stared out into the darkness. With a shiver of vivid recollection, she recalled the attractive man with the charming smile. “I saw a man at court. I couldnae breathe, and my heart was beating so fast when he looked at me. I have ne’er felt that way before. He was the most handsome man I ever laid eyes upon.”

Her musings were interrupted by his smirk. “Donna speak untruths. Ye know I am the bonniest man ye have ever laid eyes upon.”

She swatted at him. “Cease, ye rogue.”

“Did ye speak with him?” he asked her searchingly.

Rosalia shook her head. “Nay. When he heard Mother scolding me, the smile he offered was only one of pity.” She spoke regretfully, pausing a moment to remember him. “Did ye hear, then? They want to offer my hand to this Lord Dunnehl. Do ye know him?”

James hesitated, measuring her for a moment. When the sound of laughter approached from a distance, he reached out and touched her arm. “The guards come. Quickly, back to your chamber.”

***

After a night of tossing and turning and a tiring day of preparing for Lord Dunnehl’s arrival, Rosalia would be paraded like livestock. Perhaps he would think her midriff too big and she would be unacceptable for breeding—one could only hope. Shaking her head, Rosalia willed away her dark thoughts. She pulled at her gown and rechecked her hair. There was nothing further she could do. The time had come, whether she was ready or not.

Taking a deep breath, Rosalia hesitantly approached the great hall. The sound of her mother’s laughter made her face turn grim. It was obvious she was trying to impress the man by showing him the fine tapestries. There may be nothing left in the coffers, but they had the finest of wares. Her mother was quite proud of that fact.

Glancing up upon her approach, Lord Dunnehl ambled toward Rosalia in a leisurely manner. “My lady, a pleasure to see you again.” He gave her a low bow and she extended her hand. “Your beauty is exquisite. Clearly, she gets it from you, Lady Armstrong.”

“So ye have said,” Rosalia mumbled under her breath, trying with all of her strength not to roll her eyes.

“You flatter me, my lord,” said her mother, her eyes glowing with enjoyment.

“Are you injured, my lady?” he asked Rosalia searchingly.

When she clamped her jaw tight and lifted her brow, her mother quickly explained, “She fell from her mount.”

“Most unfortunate. My apologies for your discomfort.”

While her mother uttered meaningless chatter, Rosalia quietly reflected.

“Rosalia would love to show you the gardens, my lord.” Her mother gave her a pointed look.

“The pleasure would be mine, my lady.”

He extended his arm, and Rosalia cleared her throat awkwardly. “Ye and Da are joining us?”

“Surely ye donna require a chaperone. Lord Dunnehl wishes time with ye. A walk in the garden will do ye some good. Besides, the captain of my guard is on watch out there if ye want for anything.” Her father narrowed his eyes at Lord Dunnehl.

Having no choice, Rosalia reluctantly took his arm. As they entered the gardens, she glanced up as James walked the parapet. “Have ye… you traveled far, my lord?” She wished her mother would not insist she mask her Highland brogue. It made it much more difficult to carry on a conversation, and she was nervous enough.

“After court, I traveled to my Northumberland home and came from there.”

She was instantly wide awake. “I find the courtly appeal fascinating. I understand King James is attempting to tame the Highland
barbarians.
I personally donna… do not think they are barbarians at all. They fight amongst themselves to keep land that has been rightfully theirs for generations. I admire their courage and their honor,” she spoke eagerly.

“And what does a woman know of courtly matters? I can assure you, my dear, those men
are
barbarians.
Why don’t we speak to the matter at hand, shall we?” Lord Dunnehl stopped and inclined his head, holding out his hand for her to sit on a bench. He glanced up at the parapet before he took his seat next to her.

Taking a deep breath, Rosalia tried to command her emotions to order. “And what matter is that?”

“I am aware you speak freely. Your father has said as much. I do not seek such qualities in a wife. However, I am in need of a wife and you are in need of a husband. More so, I am in need of an heir and I am not getting any younger. We will have an open marriage, and you will be free to do as you will as soon as you provide my heir. I understand the coffers are low, and I am willing to bargain with your father.”

Her jaw dropped and she gave him a sidelong glance of utter nonbelief for speaking so bluntly.

He chuckled nastily and forcefully pulled her head toward him. Vehemently, he smacked his lips upon hers. As Rosalia felt bile rise in the back of her throat, he finally broke the kiss. “You may bring that fire into our bed… and I will show you how thoroughly I can put it out. I like my women with some spirit.”

Breathless with rage, she sprang from the bench and slapped his hands away. “I believe ’tis enough, my lord. My sire awaits us in the great hall.” She flashed him a look of disdain and stormed off.

He quickly caught up with her. “I shall have speech with your father on the morrow. I wish to wed quickly and return to London. I know you will be looking forward to our marriage bed as well, my dear.” His gaze rested on her breasts.

He was the foulest of beasts.

Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough. When they entered the great hall, Rosalia thundered past her mother, her temper barely controlled. “I must retire. I bid ye good sleep.” Hefting her skirts, she ran up the stairs to her bedchamber and slammed the door.

***

Rosalia awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. How could her mother expect her to wed such a man?

Fierce pounding upon her door made her jump. “Rosalia, open this door at once! I will not ask again,” ordered her mother in a clipped tone. Pulling herself from the bed, Rosalia unlatched the door and stepped back as her mother pushed through the doorway. “Lord Dunnehl has offered for your hand and we are most pleased.”