LITMIR.BIZ

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      Munro nodded slightly from his place at his friend’s side, apparently pleased now with her welcome. He stepped inside and closed the door behind them. Still slowed by the shock of seeing the earl’s son inside her cottage, she did not move.

      ‘My thanks to you for your hospitality and allowing me to accompany Munro to supper,’ he said, his deep voice causing the most alarming reaction—gooseflesh rose on the skin of her arms at the sound. ‘And especially for being so gracious without much warning.’

      Good Lord, she’d forgotten to offer him a cup! So much for hospitality and good manners, she thought as she tried to regain control over herself.

      ‘Would you like some ale, my lord? Or water?’ she asked, walking to the table and lifting a cup and waiting for his choice to fill it from one of the pitchers there.

      ‘I brought a skin of my mother’s favourite wine. I thought we could share it?’ he answered smoothly, holding it out to her. The dimple in his chin became more pronounced as did the amusement in his gaze when she finally gained the courage to meet his eyes.

      ‘That was kind of you,’ she said, reaching to take it from him. His fingers grazed hers, not by accident, she suspected, as he let it go. ‘And kind of Lady Jocelyn to share such a luxury with us.’

      ‘She may not know,’ he whispered to her before turning back to her stepson. ‘As an apology of sorts, Munro, for beating your sorry arse into the ground today.’

      Uncertain of how Gowan’s son would take such a comment, she waited to see his reaction. After a short hesitation, he surprised her by laughing right in Aidan’s face. And, although she usually saw his sullen, disagreeable side, his amusement seemed genuine. Cat felt some of the tension in the cottage ease. Pouring some of the deep-red wine into two cups, she handed one to their guest and then one to Munro.

      ‘And you, Mistress MacKenzie? Where is your cup?’

      Cat froze at his words. Would Munro pick up that he knew her already? Most around here were MacLeries, whether close or distant relation did not matter. Very few went by other names. Instead of waiting for Munro to point it out, she shook her head and held up the empty cup and filled it from the pitcher of ale.

      ‘Wine is too strong a drink for me, my lord. It goes right to my head. So I will leave it to you two to enjoy and drink the ale.’ At the darkening of Munro’s gaze, she turned to Aidan. ‘If you do not mind, my lord?’ She motioned to them to sit at the table, never waiting for his reply.

      ‘I do not mind at all, Munro,’ he said to his friend and not to her. He understood that Munro would take more offence to her declining such a gift. Wine such as that was too costly for their table. ‘I would not want to see your stepmother light-headed or otherwise affected this night.’

      Had he actually spoken ‘this night’ more loudly or had she just imagined it? As though on another night such a reaction would be desired?

      Shaking her head, trying to clear such thoughts, Cat took the bowls from the shelf and ladled the lamb stew into each. Though she’d planned that this would last for several more meals, she knew that these two, strong young men would empty the pot with their appetites. Since there really was no choice in this—to offer less than everything would be an insult to the lord’s son—she filled their bowls and placed them on the table.

      Then with her own bowl half-filled, she sat across from the very man she’d been trying to avoid—avoid thinking about, avoid talking about and avoid talking to. If she thought this an innocent invitation from one friend to another, the merriment in his eyes as he met hers confirmed just the opposite. He’d planned this all, using Munro as the way to get here. Having no choice but to offer hospitality and company, Cat took the chunk of bread offered by Gowan’s son and dipped it in her stew.

      This would the longest meal of her life.

      * * *

      Aidan tried not to laugh—first at the surprise on her face when she saw him and then at the way she tried not to allow him to see how affected she was by him. When he’d decided that the only way to know why she feared him so was to know her more closely, Munro seemed the obvious way to do that. It was not difficult to wheedle an invitation to his father’s cottage for dinner.

      Now, as he and Munro talked about the day’s events, upcoming duties and plans to travel to several of the other MacLerie holdings, Aidan never took his attention from her. He noticed the way the edges of her mouth curved when she smiled, the way she savoured and chewed the succulent chunks of lamb and turnips and the way she tried not to stare at him.

      At first, she seemed intent on staying apart by sitting on the other side of the table from him and Munro and even staying out of any of the talk. But her nervousness seemed to ease and she offered a few softly spoken comments to the conversation. He noticed that any attempts to ask about her own life before coming to Lairig Dubh were neatly directed to another topic or turned into questions about him or Munro even.

      Aidan glanced around the cottage as they ate. He noticed it was plainly furnished, but clean. Similar in size to most of the cottages on this lane, he saw nothing that seemed to say this was her home there. Two trunks sat along the back wall. Munro had told him that although she’d been married to Gowan for about eight years, they’d only moved here about two years ago. That was time enough to make this her home and yet, it was not.

      As the meal continued, he watched her as much as he could. And his body reacted when he realised that she, too, stole glances of him just as much. If she was fearful or reticent, her eyes never gave it away. Though he had enjoyed the shocked expression when they’d walked in, the soft smile she gave when he offered her the loaf of bread pleased him more.

      He wanted to speak to her alone, but prodding Munro into inviting him here was the first step. Put her at ease with his presence and then further their acquaintance...hopefully much, much further.

      Soon, too soon for his liking, they finished eating the simple but tasty meal and he could draw out his time there no longer. They rose as he did and he shook Munro’s hand, with words about their duties on the morrow. Walking to the door, he turned back and spoke to Catriona.

      ‘My thanks again for the warm welcome in spite of the lateness of the plans, Mistress MacKenzie.’

      ‘Any friend of Munro’s will find himself welcomed in his father’s home, my lord,’ she said, dipping into a curtsy before him.

      He reached out and took her hand, guiding her back to standing instead of the cowering position she’d taken.

      ‘When you say “my lord”, I look for my father,’ he said, looking to Munro first. ‘Now that we are known to each other and seeing that I am friend to Munro, you may call me by my given name. I pray you, call me only Aidan.’

      She tried to free her hand from his grasp, but he held it firmly as he waited for her reaction. His body tightened, his blood heated, as he waited to finally hear the sound of his name spoken in that earthy tone of voice.

      ‘Oh, my lord, I could not be so familiar with you. You are the earl’s son, after all,’ she said, laughing as she used her other hand to loosen his fingers from around hers. ‘It would clearly be disrespectful to do so.’ The lightness in her voice slipped when she turned to Munro, who wore a dark frown now. ‘Though since it is your request that I do so...I will ask my husband for his permission when he returns.’

      Aidan nearly laughed aloud at how smartly she’d slipped his noose and reminded him once again that she had a husband. With a simple phrase, she placed that husband directly between them and in his path should he be pursuing her! He could not force the issue now without making Munro suspicious, so he nodded and smiled at her.

      ‘A wise woman who relishes the guidance of her husband,’ he said, nudging Munro with his elbow. ‘May we both be so blessed with wives as obedient as your father’s when we marry, Munro.’

      He could only describe her expression as equal amounts of anger, satisfaction and... Something else swirled in those bright blue eyes.

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