The Highlander's Choice (13 page)

Liam, apparently not having the same issue, grinned and stretched his full length, his manhood waving at her. “Lass, don’t ever hide yerself from my eyes. ’Tis beautiful ye are, and I canna get my fill of ye.”

She rocked back and forth, horror gripping her at the position they were in. “It is not proper what we’ve done. Supposed someone comes to the library for a book?”

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I locked the door. Dinna fash yerself, darlin’.”

“Liam, please, this is terrible.” Tears formed in her eyes at the thought of them being caught—naked—on the library floor.

He frowned and sat up, pulling her against him. “Ach, lass. Stop this now. ’Tis not a problem. We’re getting married, anyway.”

Opting to clothe herself quickly, despite her embarrassment, she eased from his arms and stood, gathering her garments from next to the settee. “I haven’t said yes to your proposal.”

“’Tis too late, darlin’. Ye could be carrying my bairn right now.” He stood and reached for his breeches, hopping as he struggled to get his foot in without falling and knocking himself out.

She groaned and collapsed on the settee. “Oh, no.” She looked up at him. “What will we do?”

Pulling his shirt over his head, he moved to where she sat and knelt beside her. Taking her hands in his, he kissed her fingers and said, “’Tis simple. We will be married.”

Visions of the vile glances Lady MacBride had tossed her way ever since she’d arrived rose to torment her. Sybil had been subjected to nasty comments, downright rudeness, and any number of gestures to let her know Liam’s mother did not approve of her. Life with the woman would not be pleasant, but she was his mother.

Sybil had also noticed several members of the clan had been sending malicious glances her way. Apparently, his mother had begun a campaign to drive her from Bedlay Castle.

“I still need time, Liam. I’m not sure.”

He cupped her cheek in a soft caress, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “What are yer doubts, lass?”

The last thing she wanted to do was complain about his mother. It would only serve to prove to him she was indeed an English princess who couldn’t get along with his family and clan. She’d have to solve this problem on her own. Truth be known, she wanted to accept his offer of marriage. And not just because they’d made love, although now that she’d sampled his touch, she certainly knew that part of her life would be a full one.

She wasn’t altogether sure she loved Liam, but knew in her heart it was indeed possible. Every day it seemed more likely that he could very well be the man for whom she’d been waiting.

If only he hadn’t arrived in her life with a hateful mother.

Chapter Thirteen

Liam tightened the girth on Cadeym, then swung his large body up onto the horse’s back. After being away for so long at Duncan’s wedding, numerous issues had arisen that he had to deal with. This trip would probably take a couple of days to hear everyone’s complaints and get it all sorted out. He hated leaving Sybil after what they’d shared last night, but he’d put this off as long as he could.

When he’d left her at her bedchamber door last night, he told her he would be gone for a day or so. He’d touched her cheek and asked to have her agreement to marry him when he returned. Once more he’d emphasized she could already be carrying his bairn, which only seemed to distress her.

Her response to his lovemaking had roused him even further than he’d thought possible. He’d taken many women to his bed, but none had ever affected him the way his wee lass did. She’d created a fever in him that only she could squelch. Whatever it took, he would have her for his wife. He wanted many years together to explore her body inch by inch. To find all the places that would set her on fire.

But ’twas not only lust that stirred him about the lass. She was kind, funny, smart, and would make a gracious laird’s wife. In fact, his next trip to visit the tenants he would take her along with him, introduce her to his people. He knew she would win them over, even though she was a Sassenach. That was something he kept shoved to the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow years of his mother’s preaching about the English to affect his chance for a marriage filled with love and happiness.

If his mum could be won over, he was sure Sybil would say yes. He frowned, remembering some of the sly remarks and looks his mum had cast at Sybil since her arrival. The woman was so sure that all English women were princesses and would sit about waiting for everything to be done for them, doing naught for themselves. Perhaps, many were indeed like that. He wouldn’t know. All he knew was his Sybil was no princess and would be a fine, sturdy laird’s wife.

Catriona and Alanna had accepted the lass, looking up to her almost as if she were already their older sister. Sybil would be a great influence on the girls. Sometimes his mum was so adamant about everything Scottish that the girls never got to experience anything different.

He pushed these thoughts aside as he approached the home of Malcom MacBride, who stood in front of his house. Leaning on his cudgel, his back bent over from his many years, the old man waved his stick in the air, gaining Liam’s attention. He veered Cadeym to the left and headed to the MacBride home, grateful to have his thoughts interrupted. The sooner he finished with his visits and resolving the clan’s various problems, the sooner he could return to Bedlay Castle and his lady.

…

Sybil stared at herself in the mirror over the dresser in her bedchamber. She looked no different. Yet she felt years older than she had yesterday morning. She’d made love with a man who not only wasn’t her husband, but not even her betrothed. Although, should she give him the word, she would most likely be engaged, married, and back in bed before the sun went down.

Her face flushed at the memories of what they’d done the night before. How could she have behaved in such a wanton manner? She closed her eyes, visualizing how she’d looked reflected in the window. Lord, if anyone had wandered outside they would have gotten an eyeful. At the time she’d been so “distracted” it hadn’t even occurred to her. She shivered, hoping since it had been late, everyone, even the staff, had been abed.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she hurried down the stairs to the morning room for breakfast. Although it was quite possible Lady MacBride would move the meal to another room, just to cause trouble. She sighed. Somehow she needed to win the woman over. Liam had been correct. She could now be carrying his babe. She smiled. Or “bairn” as he called it. Each day she grew more content with the idea of being his wife and living in this lovely castle in the beautiful surroundings. If she wasn’t already in love with the man, it was not very far down the road.

But she refused to spend the rest of her life battling his mother.

“Good morning,” she said, entering the bright room. It was apparent why the family chose this area for the morning meal, since it faced the east, allowing the sun to lighten the room. The soft hues of the green and rose wallpaper blended well with the damask furniture in similar colors.

The only acknowledgment she received from Lady MacBride was a raising of her eyebrows. Alanna and Catriona were their usual pleasant selves in greeting her. How much fun it would be to have these two as sisters. She missed her own sisters since she’d left for this visit to the Highlands.

“We are going with our governess today for a trip into Inverness. Mum said we are to visit for three days.” Catriona almost jumped with glee.

“And we will have new gowns made and visit all the shops and the bookstore.”

“How wonderful,” Sybil said as she shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. “I am sure it will be a lovely time.”

Alana turned to her mother, busy with her food, seeming to ignore the chatter. “Mum, since Liam is away, perhaps Lady Sybil can accompany us?”

“No.” The woman’s abrupt answer startled them all. “’Tis not possible.” Her voice softened. “I have some things I would like to show
her ladyship
.” Lady MacBride attempted a smile, but as far as Sybil could see, she didn’t quite make it.

Good heavens. She was to be left alone with the witch? The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Then she chastised herself. She’d read too many of Ann Radcliffe’s works. Miss Radcliffe used wonderful
descriptions of landscapes and lengthy travel scenes. But it was her use of the supernatural that had made Sybil cower in her bed many a night after finishing one of the books. Now looking at Liam’s mother, she could easily place her as a sorcerer.

Shortly after breakfast, Sybil found herself hugging the girls and wishing them a pleasant journey. They hurried to the coach that would take them and their tutor, Miss Dubbins, to Inverness for a holiday. Two excited faces beamed as Liam’s sisters waved through the window of the coach.

Sybil headed back to the door, crossing the large marble entry hall. Before she’d taken two steps up the stairs, Lady MacBride said from behind her, “There are a few things ye need to see to before ye take yerself off for another day of lying about,
my lady
.”

So here it comes.
Sybil turned, and raising her chin, viewed the lady with as much dignity as she could muster. The woman was a bully, and she’d not allow her to think she could easily dismiss her. Now that she’d had a taste of what marriage to Liam could be like—at least the part they’d shared last night—she would stand her ground. Either she would win Lady MacBride over, or convince her any battle between them would not end with Sybil as the loser.

“Yes, my lady. With what can I assist you?”

“Ach, you needn’t get your hackles up, miss. I only wanted to show ye things that go on in a castle such as this. Things that anyone who felt they would want to be mistress here should know.”

Apparently, Liam had told his mother he wanted to marry her. That certainly explained her overt dislike of Sybil. It wasn’t just because she was English, but because her son wanted to “taint” the Scottish blood with a Sassenach.

But perhaps she had misread the woman. Maybe she truly wanted her to see what life here would be like. No doubt it would be quite different from life in an English manor.

However, the sparkle in Lady MacBride’s eyes told her she had something planned that would not be to Sybil’s liking.

“As you wish, my lady.” Sybil came back down the stairs and followed behind Liam’s mother the length of the corridor to the kitchen. Smells of meat roasting and bread baking greeted them before they entered the massive room. A huge fireplace stood against one wall with several cauldrons hanging over the flames. A roast of some sort was speared onto a spit, with a child of about eleven years slowly turning it.

The cook she’d met before, when she had requested the picnic basket, was working her fingers in a mound of dough. “Good day, mistress. What brings ye to the kitchens?”

“I don’t think you know Lady Sybil, Mrs. MacDougal.” Lady MacBride turned to Sybil. “This is our cook, Mrs. MacDougal.”

“Nay, me lady. I met the lass a few days ago,” the cook said, giving Sybil a slight smile.

“Indeed?” Lady MacBride turned to Sybil. “’Tis sure I am that there are many things she can show ye so ye have an idea how the kitchen works.”

Sybil tried very hard not to show her surprise. Since when did a guest need to know how the kitchen worked? And even if Lady MacBride was introducing her as a potential bride for the laird, knowledge of the kitchen operation was generally not necessary. But if the woman wanted to play games, she would be right there with her.

“How lovely. I’m sure you can show me many things about the kitchen.”

“Mayhap
her ladyship
would like to help with preparing those.” Lady MacBride nodded in the direction of a pile of vegetables in the center of a large work table where two young girls sat peeling away. The startled looks on the maids’ faces almost made Sybil laugh. Obviously, no other guest had been asked to work in the kitchen.

Since Lady MacBride seemed to think all English women deemed themselves royalty, she would soon disabuse her of that notion. “Yes. I would love to help peel the vegetables.” She turned to a very wide-eyed Mrs. MacDougal. “Do you have an apron I may use? If not, I can go upstairs and change into my work dress.”

If Liam’s mother wanted to play games, she had picked the wrong woman to match swords with. Two young girls’ giggles were quickly stifled when Lady MacBride glared at them.

“Yes, my lady. I do have an apron.” Mrs. MacDougal seemed flustered, but managed to secure an apron and handed it to Sybil.

“Thank you.” She tied the apron around her waist and regally glided to the work table and sat alongside the girls. What Lady MacBride had no way of knowing was that Sybil’s mother had oftentimes sent a recalcitrant daughter to the kitchen to help Cook as a way to remind them of all the privileges their lives came with. Even her brother, the Duke, had spent many an afternoon mucking out stables for his escapades.

Sybil picked up a knife and deftly began to work on the vegetables. Lady MacBride narrowed her eyes at the three at the table, then quickly made her exit. Mrs. MacDougal fussed around, casting uneasy glances at Sybil until finally, convinced the guest would not hurl the knife in her direction, went back to her work.

Within a half hour, the vegetables had all been peeled and Sybil had learned the two girls she’d shared the chore with were sisters, their mother being one of the upstairs maids.

“My lady, me mum says the laird has taken a fancy to ye.” Meg, the younger of the girls, spoke softly, glancing sideways at Cook, apparently waiting to have her ears boxed for her impertinence. Her older sister elbowed her.

Tempted to say she’d taken a fancy to him as well, letting word spread back to Lady MacBride, she was stopped before she could speak as the woman herself entered the kitchen. “Glad I am to see ye got all that work done. I have another place that needs yer attention.”

Mrs. MacDougal opened her mouth to speak, but shut it firmly when Lady MacBride scowled at her. The cook went back to her work.

Sybil stood and removed the apron, holding it out to Meg. “It was a pleasure working with you and your sister.”

Both girls did a quick bob. “Thank ye, my lady.”

Lady MacBride gave a very unladylike snort and turned on her heel, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sybil followed.

The next job the woman had for her could only be called spiteful. She took her into a room with furniture shrouded in dust covers. “This room has not been cleaned in a long time. However, the mistress of Bedlay Castle must see that there are always rooms ready for unexpected company.” She turned to Sybil, a malicious grin on her face. “But then, I’m sure ye aren’t up to taking on this task.”

“Does not the castle employ maids to see to rooms needing cleaning?”

“Aye. We do. But the poor girls are all busy and this room must be made ready for Lord Templeton who is expected in two days time.” She started to leave and turned back. “Unless ye feel ’tis too difficult for ye? Or maybe beneath yer dignity?”

Sybil gritted her teeth and raised her chin. “Not at all, my lady. Not at all.”

Sybil whipped the scarf from her head and collapsed onto her bed. During the past two days while Liam and his sisters had been gone from Bedlay Castle, Lady MacBride had made Sybil mop, dust, garden, polish silver, wax furniture, and just about anything else the evil woman could come up with. The more outrageous the jobs she’d been assigned, the more determined Sybil had become to best her in this contest of wills.

Many of the clan members and those who worked in the house had cast sympathetic looks at her as she went about her chores, but a mere glower from the lady of the castle had sent them scurrying back to their tasks.

Lady MacBride thought her a princess? Well, she thought the lady of Bedlay Castle a consummate witch. She held up her hands, red and itchy from the lye soap she’d been given to use for her last chore. Her back ached, her feet hurt, and all she wanted was a hot bath. But the last time she’d requested one, she was told it would be her job to lug the buckets of water up herself.

Of course, the woman expected Sybil to complain, loud and lengthy, to Liam when he returned. Then she could remind her son that all English women were useless and this one was no better. Sybil groaned.

“My lady, it is simply outrageous how Lady MacBride is treating you.” Bessie entered her bedchamber with towels over her arms. “I don’t know why you allow her to do so.”

Sybil propped herself up on her elbows. “She’s trying to chase me off. I will leave when I am damn ready to.” She collapsed back down again. “Or not at all.”