“I suppose ye have a fine point at that, lass.”
Faolan grinned. She watched the corners of his mouth twitch. Cora drank in the sight. There was something about the moment that made her tingle. From head to toe, she felt drawn in closer to him. Her heart was racing once more, and she was fingering the fabric of her skirt because she just couldn’t seem to stay still.
But there was a step behind them. A heavy footfall as someone came toward the doorway. Cora turned around, but Faolan stepped in front of her. He extended his arm, pushing her back a pace as he took up a position half in front of her.
He was shielding her.
Cora didn’t have time to ponder the reason. A man arrived in the doorway. There were three feathers sticking upright on the side of his knitted cap, declaring him the Laird of the McKay.
Faolan reached up and tugged on the corner of his own cap.
“Ye know full well I do nae grant ye liberty to come to this stronghold whenever ye please,” Laird McKay began. He was half out of breath from how quickly he’d come. He shook his head, his lips pressed together in anger. “I’ve half a mind to send ye on yer way, dark night be damned.”
Laird McKay had come into the room, several Retainers flanking him.
“Chief McKay was very kind to escort me here.” Cora stepped around Faolan’s extended arm. “I know me brother will be grateful for the assistance of the McKay.”
Cora spoke with all the smoothness her tutors had taught her. Her back was straight, and her chin level. On her face was an expression which was both poised and smooth, her true feelings hidden completely beneath an expression of serenity.
She detested being so fake, and yet, it appeared there were times which called on her to be so.
Laird McKay shifted his attention to her. He did it with a jerk of his head, appearing to have not even noticed her in the room at all.
Faolan grabbed a handful of the back of her skirts to keep her from moving closer to Laird McKay.
The tension between the two men was clear enough.
“Cora. Cora Mackenzie.” A woman glided into the room. There was a swish from her skirts as she made it through the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed, but she fluttered her eyelashes as though she hadn’t just been rushing.
“Yer brother will be so pleased to hear ye are well.”
Noreen Grant was wearing a dress far too fine for the Highland weather. The silk was crisp and held out from her body by a farthingale. Her hair was dressed with ribbons and perfectly arranged on her head. Cora had never met Noreen, but she certainly knew who the McKay laird’s wife was.
“I received a letter just this morning about how ye had gone missing,” Noreen continued as she came forward and grasped Cora’s hand to pull her away from Faolan. “My heart is so much lighter now that I see ye are well. However did ye come to be at the McKay towers?”
“A violent storm took my party by surprise. My horse was swept right out from under me, and we both went away with the flood. The fact that I am well is solely due to Chief McKay’s assistance,” Cora said firmly. Her temper was steaming. The way the couple seemed intent on throwing Faolan into the night, rubbing her raw.
Noreen’s eyes narrowed. But only for a moment before she was fluttering her eyelashes once again. “Faolan is a credit to the McKays for certain. Come with me, dear, and we shall get ye settled.”
Noreen had taken her hand, but Faolan still had a grip on the back of Cora’s skirt. For a moment, she was caught between them. But Faolan released her, allowing Noreen to tug her away.
“We’ll leave the men to their business,” Noreen declared softly.
Cora stopped and faced off with Laird McKay. She performed a perfect reverence, touching one foot in front of her before placing it behind her and bending the knee to lower herself before him. “I will be certain to tell me brother how grateful I am to Chief McKay.”
Laird MaKay’s eyes squinted. He didn’t miss the warning in her words.
Honey-coated words…
The weapons of a lady were often considered insignificant against the greater strength and authority of men, but Cora watched her words hit true to target. A moment later, she was being tugged through the doorway. Out in the passageway, more McKay Retainers were clustered about. There was a full dozen there.
Faolan wasn’t welcome at all.
Noreen pulled her past the steely-faced men.
Cora felt the urge to stay.
And do what? Protect him?
She wanted to. Cora found herself dealing with the unexpected urge, while Lady McKay took her through the passageways of the McKay stronghold.
*
“What did ye do with the girl?”
Noreen looked at the reflection of her husband behind her. She finished drawing her comb down the length of her hair before she answered him. She didn’t hurry, either. Malcolm McKay’s gaze went to where her fingers were holding the silken strands of her hair as she drew the comb slowly through them.
Perfect.
Noreen turned and smiled at her husband. Her dressing robe was open just the right amount to allow him a view of her cleavage above her stays. The edge of her smock was decorated with lace, and her efforts were not wasted. Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he closed the distance between them, his gaze turning hungry while he eyed her breasts.
“I have her well in hand,” Noreen answered sweetly. “She is such a child still. I bathed her, fed her, and tucked her into bed without a quibble.”
Malcolm shifted his attention to her face. “Buchanan’s sister is worth a great deal.”
“In the right condition, yes.” Noreen agreed as she held up a single finger. “Maintaining appearances is the only thing of any real importance.”
Malcolm gave a short grunt. He reached up and laid his fingers on the swell of one of her breasts. “Ye are very skilled, madam. I forget how much so from time to time.”
Noreen leaned toward him as she placed her hand on his belly. “I would be happy to remind ye husband…of all my talents…”
Malcolm didn’t need any further baiting. He pulled his wife close, taking full advantage of her invitation.
*
Her husband snored.
Malcolm was on his back in the middle of her bed, his spent member laying in plain view.
Noreen might have been annoyed, except she needed Malcolm in her bed too much to be sour. There was an ache between her thighs, which made her smile because Malcolm had been infatuated with a buxom little maid for the better part of the last year. At long last, he was by her side once more.
After five years of marriage, all she had were two daughters. Malcolm had become cold toward her since the birth of their second child. So, she laid still on her back as the midwife had instructed her and didn’t let her mood darken over her husband’s lack of affection toward her.
He’d remained in her bed, so she would keep her thoughts focused on that fact, for it was the most important. He would wake soon, affording her another opportunity to entice him.
She needed a son, not her husband’s heart. Of course, when she’d been younger, she’d entertained ideas of falling in love. Such thoughts were folly, though, or at the very least, guaranteed to conflict with ambition. She might have only one—position or love. Let the maid have Malcolm McKay’s heart, for Noreen was the lady of the manor.
But her two daughters wouldn’t help Noreen keep the portion as mistress of the castle.