Chapter 21

21

A dam woke up the following morning feeling drained.

He must have had two hours of sleep, tossing and turning all night, his mind filled with thoughts of Emily.

He lay in bed for a little time, aware that it was only just after dawn. He had drunk too much wine with Doughall after Emily hadn't appeared for dinner and could feel his blood pumping between his ears.

He groaned.

How could she nae wish to eat together anymore?

Adam understood she was angry with him for what he had said on the way back to the castle, but her behavior puzzled him. Most prospective brides would at least wish to save face with the groom's mother and stay in her good graces.

Emily seemed to have no such concerns and refused to leave her room, even after Adam had sent for her twice and delayed their supper by half an hour. He couldn't even muster the anger he should have felt—he was impressed by her audacity.

He threw off the covers and stomped about his room, already in a foul mood, and the sun hadn't even fully risen yet.

A few minutes later, he emerged from his bedchamber to find Theo waiting for him. They fell into step beside one another as his man-at-arms rattled through the clan business that was pertinent for the day.

"Have the Young family been contacted?" Adam asked, his irritation rising as he thought of Emily's interference with the council.

"Aye, M'Laird, but they have not yet responded. "

"Send another personal message from me and ask them to come to the castle as soon as they are able. I ken it is a long journey, but it will be worth their while."

"Of course, M'Laird," Theo said. "Will ye be travelin' today?"

"I might ride with Doughall, but just to the nearby lands. I willnae be needin' yer services until later."

"Very good, M'Laird. And Lady Emily?"

"She can do as she pleases," he growled.

"Very good, M'Laird," Theo repeated in that infuriating tone.

Adam stopped in his tracks and sighed. "I apologize if I've been short with ye lately."

"I am used to it, M'Laird."

Adam frowned at the man's slight smile and shrugged. "Have ye seen the little pixie anywhere? I havenae caught a glimpse of her since yesterday mornin'."

"I understand she has been assistin' Lady Freya in the library, M'Laird."

"With what?"

"Books, M'Laird. Some people read them from time to time."

Adam glowered at him. "I have read books before, Theo," he retorted.

"Of course, M'Laird."

"And ye can stop M'Lairding me."

"Aye, M'Laird," Theo replied, a thin smile on his lips.

Adam scowled and stormed away from him, resolving to focus on the business of the day and keep his mind off Emily for as long as possible.

Donal Barclay came to his study a little time later with a long list of issues for him to review. Hearing of all the matters that had been kept from him by his mother did nothing to improve his mood.

"I dinnae appreciate nae bein' informed of the things that are effectin' me own people," Adam thundered as Barclay stood impassively before his desk.

"Her Ladyship has been dealin' with them until now and felt ye should be made aware."

"And who gave her authority to do that?"

"Yer faither, M'Laird."

"Well, I am the Laird now, and she doesnae need to be responsible for anythin'. Is that clear?"

"Aye, M'Laird."

Adam looked over the items on his desk with narrowed eyes. He was going to have to speak to his mother again to get his point across. There were almost a dozen things she had still been seeing to without his knowledge.

She was doing a commendable job, but he still needed to know what was happening in his clan.

"I can hear ye shoutin' from down the corridor, man," came an amused voice from the door. "What has ye in such a foul temper?"

Doughall kicked the door open without knocking, leaning against the frame as though he owned the whole castle. He was eating an oatcake he must have swiped from the kitchens. The man was always hungry.

"Ye may go, Barclay. Is there anythin' else me maither has been seein' to?"

"Nay," Barclay said stiffly before he stalked out.

His attitude, tone, and general demeanor were setting Adam's teeth on edge, and he eyed the councilman's back as Doughall watched him depart.

"Want me to stab him in the thigh?" Doughall offered without any note of humor. "Might drive the stick from his backside."

Adam sighed. "Am I bein' unreasonable?"

"In life or today?" Doughall asked, pushing off the wall and coming into the room.

"About me maither."

"Ye ken better than anyone what she was like with yer faither," Dougall said sagely. "Doesnae sound like she's learned her lesson with all of this." He picked up one of the papers and scanned it casually, but his eyes were thoughtful. "Laura did go missin'. Do ye think yer maither was tryin' to give ye space to find her?"

Adam rubbed a hand over his face and picked up the papers, looking through them more carefully. A few disputes between farmers had been dealt with in good time, and many financial squabbles had required compromise to resolve. His mother had handled everything admirably.

"She'd be a good laird if she was given the chance."

Emily's words echoed in his mind, and Adam had to admit that she was right. His mother was skilled in diplomacy. Despite her propensity to get involved in issues that didn't concern her, she had finally brought all of this to his attention . He would have preferred that she came herself instead of sending Barclay, but he knew that he hadn't exactly been approachable lately. The last few weeks had been taken up with concern for his sister or preoccupation with his infuriating bride-to-be.

Emily's absence grated on his nerves. He wanted to know what she was up to. He wanted to tell her what to do and watch her comply. He wanted to feel her body next to his again and hold her thighs in his hands as he?—

"Right, enough of this," Doughall said decisively, grabbing the papers from him and throwing them into a disordered pile on a nearby chair. "Ye have been workin' all mornin', and ye need a break."

"It's ten o'clock, man!" Adam protested.

"Aye, and I'm bored. I want to see if it was a fluke or whether I can beat ye at archery like I thought. I've asked them to set up the range again, and we can compare our skills."

Adam rolled his eyes at him. "Do ye nae have a clan yerself? What do ye think I do all day? I cannae just practice archery whenever the urge strikes me."

"Aye, I have a clan, and I have people to run it for me while I'm away. If ye are scared to compete against me, just say it."

"I am nothin' of the kind," Adam protested.

"Where's Theo?" Doughall asked thoughtfully. "I'm sure he can persuade ye away from yer desk."

"Thank ye, Laird MacGordon," came Theo's drawl as he appeared in the doorway, bowing to them both. "I was just comin' to enquire if ye intended to use the archery range today."

"Aye, why else do ye think it has been set up?" Doughall asked.

"I had rather wondered whether it was for the ladies, M'Laird. They have just commandeered the range for shootin' practice."

Doughall and Adam looked at one another in consternation, and then, without further discussion, they both left the study and headed outside.

Freya and Emily were standing in the courtyard where the targets had been set up, choosing their bows as though they had been arranged for their use alone.

"This wasnae set up for ye!" Doughall shouted as he descended the steps with Adam right behind him.

Freya took a deep breath, and without turning to look at them, she replied, "Ye didnae come to use it, so we are havin' a try. It isnae just for ye to use."

"That is for the Laird to decide!" Doughall shot back.

"Och, that's quite right."

Adam's whole body stiffened at Emily's voice as she stepped out from behind Freya. She was wearing the golden dress he had bought her, which perfectly contrasted her dark hair.

He shivered as he remembered how she had looked in just his léine and wished there was less fabric covering that beautiful body.

"The Laird should decide," Emily continued. "Laird MacNiall, who should use the range? Ye or us?"

Her eyes were glinting with anger now, and Adam felt guilt and arousal warring inside him.

Alright, test yer power, Emily—we'll see who wins this round.

"I dinnae think we need to choose between the two," he said casually, even as his heart rate quickened in her presence. "Why dinnae we have a competition? Go on, pick yer teams."

Doughall grunted, clearly not interested in a game.

Emily glanced at him in a way that set Adam's blood on fire.

She shouldnae be lookin' at any man except for me.

"I think we should play in pairs," Emily said. "I'll play with Laird MacGordon. Freya, ye can play with yer braither."

Adam saw the challenge in her eyes as Doughall walked up to her. She looked tiny against him, and it occurred to Adam that in other circumstances, they would have made a handsome couple. He hated to see it.

He wanted her to be on his team. And he didn't want Doughall to look at her ever again.

Emily felt a flutter of nerves as she stepped up to the mark. She could see how angry Adam was that she had chosen to play with MacGordon.

It would be necessary for her to tread a fine line with both men. She didn't want to make MacGordon think she was in any way interested in him—her main purpose was to elicit a reaction from Adam.

As soon as he had walked out of the castle toward them, her heart had started to beat wildly in her chest. Every time she saw him, it was as though her brain had misremembered how big he was. He looked like a mountain made of flesh.

He was leaning on his bow now and watching her intently. It was putting her off her game. She swallowed, focusing on the target—it would be interesting to see how things progressed.

She was still angry with him for his treatment of her the day before, but she was also intrigued. A competition was a good way to see someone's true character.

Over the years, she had seen a few lairds compete in certain tournaments. She had once seen Stewart do so, but his methods were quite different from Adam's and MacGordon's.

For one, they respected each other—any gloating was done in a friendly manner. When James Stewart had taken part in the games at her father's castle many years before, he had gloated over his win for years.

Having loosed her arrow, hitting close to the center of their target, Emily returned to the back of the range to watch Adam and Doughall take their turns.

Freya was watching Adam with a resigned air about her.

"Who do ye think will win?" Emily asked.

"I hate to say it, but we will beat ye," Freya muttered. "Nae only is Adam the best shot in the Highlands, but now he is showin' off because ye are here."

Emily scoffed. "He's made it very clear that he doesnae need me good opinion. Besides, he's the Laird—he can cheat, and nay one would challenge him."

Freya sighed. "He willnae need to cheat. He is infuriatingly good with a bow."

"Well, either way, I still think we'll win," Emily said confidently.

Freya chuckled, and Doughall turned to glare at her as she interrupted his shot.

The game continued for several more rounds. Emily was a better shot than Freya, and she preened whenever she felt Adam's eyes on her. She could tell he was impressed with her abilities, but it was nothing compared to how she felt about his.

Adam was a brilliant archer. Not only did he have an excellent stance and accurate aim, but he was also very calm.

Emily couldn't help but admire the curves of his biceps every time he drew the bowstring back, and she could feel herself flushing whenever their eyes met.

She refused to speak to him—she didn't need his attention—but she couldn't help watching him. His chest would go taut as he drew back the bow, his breathing steady and sure as he looked at the target. She had likened him to a mountain before, but when he loosed an arrow, it was like the whole world bent to his will.

By the final shot, Emily was prepared to concede that Freya had been right, so she was pleased to find it was a tie.

Then, Doughall said he had entertained them long enough and wished to go for a ride.

Adam watched his friend storm away before he turned to Emily. She raised her eyebrows at him, and Adam approached her, one careful step at a time. Emily couldn't breathe by the time he was upon her. As she looked into his eyes, she was reminded of how he looked when he had been positioned between her legs, telling her to beg him.

And I did . I would beg him again right now if he asked me to.

"Is the game over?" Adam asked in that deep, rumbling voice.

"I suppose I cannae play without a partner," she said shortly.

"Ye are a good archer. Where did ye learn?"

"It is a natural ability, M'Laird—possess it since me childhood."

Adam's eyes twinkled. "Is that so?"

Emily's shoulders relaxed as she saw the warmth return to them. This was the man from the hunting lodge, not the stiff stranger who had come to greet her the next morning.

"Me braither taught me. I think at first, he let me win, but by the end, I did sometimes beat him. Ye're a fine shot yerself."

Adam's chest puffed up with pride, and he glanced behind him at his sister. "I taught Freya," he said softly.

Freya was sporting an irritated scowl as she came back to Emily's side. "I have never been any good at it," she said irritably.

"That's because ye dinnae take yer time."

"I take plenty of time to shoot the damn thing at the ground," Freya said without much heat.

"Are we goin' or nae?" came Doughall's stoic voice from behind them. He was sitting atop his horse already, and a stable boy was standing with Buck, waiting for Adam to take the reins.

Adam turned to Emily, the heat in the air between them growing in intensity. Even Freya looked between them curiously. Then, he bowed, his arm across his chest as though he were leaving his queen, turned on his heel, and made to the horse.

Emily glanced at Freya, who gave her a knowing smile.

"Like I said," Freya murmured, "showin' off."