Terri Brisbin - Yield to the Highlander

He shrugged and nodded his acceptance and headed for the yard.

Dougal MacLerie, brother to Elizabeth and the friend closest to Aidan’s own age, walked alongside him as they entered the yard and picked their weapons from among the supply there. Younger boys ran around, trying to help them all, and news of the challenge spread through all the men training there. Soon a crowd encircled the large enclosure, coin and wagers changing hands as many watching offered their opinions about the match.

‘You have been spending more time in the village than is your custom, Aidan,’ Dougal said, lifting a sword and swinging it to get the best grip on it.

‘You know what that means,’ Caelan, Duncan’s son, added.

‘A woman,’ Angus offered. ‘Another bloody woman.’

They laughed for Angus’s unsuccessful attempts at seducing one of the women who worked in the keep’s kitchens were known to them all.

‘So who is it this time?’ Munro asked. ‘The widow who moved in with her brother, the smith? Surely not Old Ronald’s daughter?’

They all laughed at him as they took positions on the field, expecting him to reveal his newest interest. He always did. Just as Aidan opened his mouth to speak her name, the realisation sank in—Munro was Gowan’s son. Shite!

‘Who says there’s a woman involved at all?’ he asked, raising his sword and standing back to back with Young Dougal.

‘When is there not a woman?’ Munro called out to him.

The others nodded in agreement with him and then all gazes were on Aidan. Better not to stir this particular cauldron right now. Instead, he stopped talking about it at all and ran at the closest one—Caelan. And then mayhem, though somewhat controlled mayhem at that, descended and they were all too busy to talk at all.

Moving in a circle, with Young Dougal at his back, they kept the others a few paces back, tiring them and then, at his word, beating them into submission. He’d fought with Young Dougal at his back, much as their fathers had fought many times, and each time they were successful. Laughing as he knocked the last one standing to the ground, he held out his hand to Young Dougal and shook it when he grasped it.

‘Good fight! You will have to show me how you made that last move,’ he said to his fighting partner as his friends climbed to their feet and dusted the dirt of the yard from themselves.

‘Something my father showed me the other day,’ Young Dougal said.

Rurik was a legendary warrior and had led the MacLerie warriors into battle for decades. That he shared his knowledge of fighting with his son, as his own father had, did not surprise Aidan.

His friends did not remain disgruntled for long after their defeat. Not insulted that others had made coins off their loss, the men accepted his offer of ale in the keep. They stopped by one of the barrels that collected rain and washed. His mother would expect no less in her keep and everyone respected the lady’s wishes.

* * *

When they sat at table and had been served, done reviewing the fight and planning another test of skills, Aidan thought on Catriona’s words and the fear in her gaze as she spoke to him—nay, as she pleaded with him to leave her be.

Seduction should be a pleasant process—each one taking a teasing step forward and then retreating to allow the other’s invite to further the relationship. Seduction, he had always thought, should be fun and filled with even parts of laughter and breathless, hot pleasures of the flesh. Seduction might involve persuasion, but should never involve force.

Her words made him feel as though he had forced himself upon her and Aidan had never done that with any woman.

Oh, for a certain, some women he’d slept with needed more persuading and convincing than others, but each was as different as were the circumstances of his interest.

Had he misread the signs in her flirting? Had he ignored them in his desire to have her? Aidan took a couple of mouthfuls of his ale, only half-paying heed to the discussion going on around him. Thinking on their first meeting at the well, he pondered how best to approach her now. If for nothing other than his own need to know, he would speak to her, bluntly, and find out why she feared him so.

‘I told you it was a woman!’ Angus called from the other end of the table. Holding up his cup, he nodded at Aidan. ‘To your success in another bed in Lairig Dubh! May you soon begin to share some of it with me!’

Aidan caught sight of a serving girl scurrying off towards the solar and knew word of his exploits would be shared, among the servants who worked here, his family and anyone who would listen. Everyone knew he’d stopped visiting the lovely Sima some weeks ago. That was old gossip by now and everyone who was curious, but waited for the news of his newest conquest.

He almost hoped that his parents would begin talking about their search for an appropriate wife so that attentions would be turned in that direction. And he would be free to pursue Catriona without the prying eyes and loose tongues spoiling his efforts at discretion. Mayhap he would guide the gossip down that new path himself?

‘Have I told you yet that my parents seek a bride for me?’ he asked no one in particular. ‘They are considering potential wives at this moment.’

Silence reigned for a very long moment as that bit of news echoed through the hall. If he was correct, it would take until no later than supper this night for everyone in Lairig Dubh to learn of his impending marriage to...whomever his parents chose. That would give him the distraction he needed to find some time to speak to Catriona.

Glancing across the table as his friends mumbled their words of congratulations for his future marriage, he realised that the perfect way to see her again sat there before him, raising a cup to his happiness.

* * *

Catriona stirred the ingredients in the cast-iron pot over the fire once more, adding a bit more water so the thick stew boiling and bubbling within it would not burn on to the metal. The aroma of the vegetables and herbs spread throughout the cottage as it cooked. The freshly baked bread lay wrapped in cloth and the crock of butter waited next to it on the table. A plain meal, but Munro said nothing more was needed for him and the friend he brought to sup with them this evening.

The recently swept floor was clean and the pallet’s blankets were smoothed into place. She glanced around one more time as she heard Munro’s voice and approach on the path to her, their, door. Guests of her husband and his son did not happen often and they must be made welcome or her lack of manners would reflect on her husband. So, Cat tucked the loosened strands of hair back inside the kerchief she wore, smoothed down the skirt of her gown and stood up as the door opened.

Any words of greeting she’d planned to speak to Munro’s guest disappeared as she met the piercing amber gaze of Aidan MacLerie. Only when Munro frowned did she realise she must look like a gaping idiot. Dropping into a curtsy and bowing her head, she whispered a greeting as she should.

‘Good evening, my lord. Welcome to Gowan and Munro’s home.’

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.