Chapter 19

19

M urdoch leaned wearily against the nursery door , watching as Finn played a game with his stuffed animals under the watchful eyes of Wilma and the nursery maid. The lad was happy enough, babbling and giggling as he waved the animals about in a joyful manner.

Not far away, Hector was curled up, watching the bairn with half-lidded eyes. Murdoch studied the dog, wondering why he was so comfortable with the hound's presence.

Hector wasn't a small dog. If he chose, he could easily hurt, or possibly even kill, any of them. And yet, Murdoch trusted him as a guard for his son. Seeing Hector nearby made him feel more at ease, not less.

It was ironic that he'd never thought of getting a dog as a guard and companion for his son, yet Lydia's protector fulfilled that role with ease.

Lydia. She'd not even been in his home for seven days, but was already making her presence felt, leaving marks that would be difficult, if not impossible, to erase. She'd become Wilma's friend, provided a protector for his son, and somehow managed to sneak past his defenses to awaken feelings he'd thought were dead and buried.

It was more than his first wife had ever accomplished, and it left him feeling oddly off-balance. As much as he disliked the loneliness he'd grown accustomed to before Lydia arrived, at least it was something he was familiar with. Her presence changed everything, and left him uncertain how to deal with the changes.

He could still recall how she'd played with Finn, chatted with Wilma and smiled at him. Bold, bright and fearless;- or at least strong enough to conquer her fears. It was difficult to imagine not having her around. Being around Lydia was like finally seeing the sun, when all he'd seen for uncounted days was rain.

He couldn't ignore or deny Lydia's influence. That meant he needed to make a decision to either pull her close or send her away.

He didn't want to send her away, which meant he needed to do something to convince her to stay. Murdoch considered his options for a moment, then called over the nursery maid. "Dress me son in his Holy Day clothing. Then call one of the serving lasses and have them bring dinner for two, and a smaller portion for Finn, to me current chambers."

"Yes me Laird."

Orders given, Murdoch returned to his own room and dressed in his best kilt, a dress shirt, his formal clan sash, and the torc of his rank. Once he was finished dressing, he returned to collect his son from the maid.

Finn looked up at him, poking at the torc with interest. "Da? Dress nice? Feast?"

"Somethin' like that. I'm going to invite Miss Lydia to eat with us, and I want to make it a special dinner. Would ye like that?"

"Miss Lyda! Hector!" Murdoch allowed himself a small smile as his son giggled and waved a hand at him.

"Aye. Miss Lydia is Hector's mistress. Would you like to be the one to ask her to eat with us?"

"Aye!" Finn's smile was bright and cheerful. Murdoch settled the bairn a little more firmly in his arms and made his way to the door of his former room. He knocked firmly.

A shuffling sound greeted his gesture. He waited a moment, then knocked again, a little more firmly.

The door clicked, then swung open to reveal Lydia dressed in a lightweight and obviously well-worn dress. Her hair was wet, braided back to confine the water to a towel slung over her shoulders. She looked pale and tired. When she saw him a crimson flush spread over her cheeks. "What are ye doin' here?"

In answer, Murdoch looked at Finn. The wee lad held out his hands with a smile. "Miss Lyda come eat wi' us? An' Hector?"

Lydia stared at Murdoch's son and her mouth quirked up in a slow smile. A small laugh escaped her as she reached out and took Finn into her arms to press a kiss on his forehead. Finn giggled with delight.

Still holding the child, Lydia looked at Murdoch. "Tis nae fair to use so cute a bairn as yer wee lad to sway me."

"I never said I played fair, Miss Knox. When I enter a game, I play to win." Murdoch smiled.

Her answering smile was one that mixed sadness and challenge. "And what are ye aimin' to win, me Laird?"

"Yer presence at dinner, to start with."

"Ye daenae think I'd break me own rule so soon." She smirked. "Never mind that I wouldnae want to deny this adorable bairn." She glanced down at her clothing. "Though I do need to change before I join ye."

"We'll wait for ye." Murdoch took Finn into his arms, then turned to make his way back to his rooms.

Lydia was surprised that Murdoch had sought her out. From the way he'd seemed to avoid talking about anything personal or of importance, she'd expected he'd be relieved if she failed show up for their evening meal. Apparently she'd been in the wrong on that score.

Lydia inspected the dresses she'd brought with her. With no idea of how things were done in Lochlann Castle, she'd brought every sort of clothing, from old, patched skirts she could wear while tending the garden to formal dresses fit for a feast.

After a moment's consideration, she pulled out a forest green dress with silver and gold curling vines stitched over it The skirt was cut to allow an underdress to be worn with it, and she chose one that brought out her skin tone and the shine of bluish tints in her dark hair. The dress was simple to put on, with a silken cord that allowed adjustment in the bodice to be form fitting, showing off her endowments to her best advantage. Lydia topped it with a sash-belt in her clan tartan, and a simple necklace that Emma had given her when she came of age. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she made her way to Murdoch's rooms.

The door was open and she felt a thrill of satisfaction when his eyes widened, and his jaw tightened at the sight of her. Now that she knew what she was looking for, it was easy to read the flash of desire in his eyes. Still, he managed to gather his composure quickly, bowed and pulled out her chair for her.

"Ye look magnificent." His tone was full of honest admiration, and despite the decisions she'd come to before and during her bath, Lydia couldn't help but smile at him.

"Ye and Finn are dressed so well, I thought t'would be good to dress accordingly."

A small smile softened Murdoch's stern mouth. "Say, rather, ye've dressed to outshine both of us poor males."

"Daenae fret. Yer wit and his innocence will surely make up any possible lack, and the food smells wonderful."

Murdoch laughed. "Always so bold, me lady. Tis fair refreshing."

They took their seats while the maid served the food and drink. Mindful of the situation and Finn's presence, Lydia limited herself to a single goblet of wine with her meal.

They ate in companionable silence, the two of them taking turns to feed Finn, and making the occasional idle comment about the food, or a request for more to drink or to eat.

Finn seemed unaware of the subtle tension between the two adults. He took what he was served and ate most of it with a good appetite, occasionally distracted by Hector's presence at the base of his chair.

By far the most humorous moment came when Murdoch settled sliced meats and fresh vegetables on his son's plate, and Finn promptly tossed a bit of spring onion to the floor. Murdoch reached down to grab it before Hector could. "Ye shouldnae waste food, Finn."

"No waste." Finn's bright eyes were guileless, yet sparkling with mischief. "Feed Hector."

"Hector cannae eat an onion. Twill upset his stomach."

Finn eyed the onion as Murdoch put it back on his plate, then poked a carrot toward the edge of his plate. "Hector eat ca-ot?"

"Carrot. And nay, ye cannae give Hector the vegetables ye daenae feel like eating, son." Despite his serious tone of voice, Lydia could see that Murdoch was struggling not to smile. She hid her own laughter behind the rim of her goblet.

Finn pouted a bit, but he did grab the onion and begin to nibble on it. Lydia and Murdoch shared an understanding smile.

Murdoch shrugged. "He doesnae like vegetables as much as other things. Tis the first time I've ever seen him try to feed them to a dog though."

Lydia laughed. "I wouldnae fret. Tis a phase I've heard all children go through. Tis when he gets old enough to try and hide what he's doing that ye need to worry."

"I suppose ye gave yer sisters some trouble on that front." He smirked.

Lydia adopted an expression of innocence. "I couldnae say. I was thinking more of Leo's son."

"Oh?"

There was little harm in telling the story, and perhaps telling him more about her family would encourage him to reciprocate. Even if he didn't tell her what she wanted most to know, she could get to know him through stories of his childhood.

"Aye. The boy kept getting sick, and nae one could understand why. Leo was so frustrated he kidnapped me sister to see if she could discern the cause. She's a healer, and he wanted to ken if she could figure out what was ailing the boy."

Lydia let her lips twist in a rueful smile. "Turned out, he'd been getting flowers from his estranged relatives, and he reacted badly to some of them. He was hiding them in his room, and his sickly episodes were when he'd received a fresh set of them."

"And did yer sister figure out what was happening?"

"Aye. But twas a frustrating time for her."

Murdoch nodded. "I ken some of what ye mean. I love me cousin, but she's always after sneaking things into the castle, or sneaking away. She's a passion for old lorecraft, and I've lost count of the times one of us has had to go after her, when she took it into her head to go out onto the moors in the middle of the night."

"She mentioned something of that." Lydia laughed.

Murdoch snorted. "Did she mention that Gordon and I taught her to swim, just so she'd nae drown herself sneaking into the fairy pools to try and catch water sprites?"

Wilma had mentioned the water sprites, but the mention of the fairy pools brought something else entirely to mind. Lydia lost her train of thought as the memory resurfaced, sharp and vivid in her mind.

She saw the moment Murdoch noticed her silence and divined the cause. She felt her cheeks heat, but she couldn't find any words to break the sudden, slightly awkward stillness that fell between them.

Finally, the meal was over, and the nursery maid appeared to take the already drowsing Finn to his bed. Lydia watched them go. "Ye daenae wish to accompany yer son?"

"I was of the impression we were meant to use this time to learn more of each other." Murdoch sipped from his tankard of beer. "After last night, I was expecting a host of questions."

"I dinnae think ye'd wish to answer them, based on last night. In any case, tis only one question on me mind tonight."

"And what is that?"

Lydia met his gaze, keeping her own expression as serene as she could manage. "What was it ye were planning to say to me, before the storm caught us unaware at the fairy pools?"

Murdoch's expression of amusement faded into seriousness as shadows darkened his eyes the color of the storm clouds outside. "Och, that."

He stood and took her hand to raise her gently from her chair. His hand slid through her hair, and it was all Lydia could do not to shiver deliciously under his touch.

"Truth? Ye asked about me wife. I dinnae commit that crime, for all I've been accused of it. But that doesnae mean I've nae killed. I have, and enough men that it would likely horrify ye if ye ken."

She wanted to assure him that he did not need to worry about that. After all, her three brothers-by-marriage each had some darkness in their past, and lives ended by their blades. At one point, they'd thought Hunter had actually killed his brother. Next to that, Murdoch couldn't possibly have done anything too horrible, especially if he was telling the truth that he hadn't killed his wife.

However, Murdoch didn't give her the opportunity to reply. "I daenae want to focus on the past. I daenae want to talk about it, or the death I've seen and meted out."

His hand cupped her chin, tipping it up so he was looking into her eyes. "I want to discuss a future between us. A future built on understanding from this day onward, nay past sins and old scars. Tis all that matters to me."

Lydia felt her heart sink.

How could they build a future on understanding if they hid away the scars of the past? Did Murdoch not realize that, unless such things were spoken of and shared between two people, they'd forever remain ghosts to haunt and choke their relationship until it withered?

Lydia couldn't find the words that would make him see the light, not when he so adamantly refused to see what she meant. Instead, she tried a different approach. "And what of our rules?"

Murdoch bent his head and she felt his warm breath brush across her cheek as his deep voice whispered in her ear "What rules?"

Before she could react, he pulled her close to his body so she could feel his growing arousal. His lips claimed hers in a demanding, hungry kiss as his hands went to her waist, lifted her up and set her on the edge of the table.

She could feel the heat of his passion and longed to match it with her own. And yet…

Lydia brought her hands up between them and pushed. Taken off guard, Murdoch stumbled back and fell into his recently vacated seat. Lydia hopped down from the table and smoothed her skirt before looking him.

The hurt and frustration on his face was nearly enough to make her relent, but she knew if she did she would forfeit a portion of his respect. He'd always be thinking that a kiss and a bit of pleasure could sway her.

Worse, she'd lose respect for herself. She might fantasize about his touch and his kisses and she might long to experience more of both, but she wasn't going to sacrifice her dignity and independence for that. Not for Murdoch or any other man.

"Lydia…" He reached for her again, but she retreated from his hand.

"Nay, me Laird Lochlann. Ye cannae change me mind or make me forego me decisions with pretty words and seduction. Ye ken what I desire, and why."

She lifted her chin, ignoring the ache in her chest that begged her not to press him so. "If ye're nae willin' to even try and talk to me about the things I feel I should ken, then ye daenae have a right to try and seduce me to surrender me virtue. I'll nae press ye if ye're unwillin' to speak, but neither will I give meself over to ye."

His jaw clenched. "There's nay need to talk about the past."

"If ye feel so, then we must agree to disagree. But me decision stands. When ye wish to talk to me, truly talk, then I will be more than willing to listen. Until then, I'll not be seduced into yielding."

It was difficult to watch as his face smoothed over, expressions vanishing behind a stone mask of indifference and distance. "Then it appears the evenin' is over."

"Aye. It is. I bid you a good evenin' and a fair night's sleep, me Laird." With that, she turned and walked away.

She half-hoped he would call her back or follow after her, but only the sound of her own footsteps accompanied her to her rooms.