Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Aedan’s change in mood was enough to alert Thora that she’d said something to upset him, but for the life of her, she had no idea what it might have been. They’d been talking about family, and she’d been trying to tell as much truth as possible without revealing anything that might give away her identity.

And then his mood had turned morose, his gaze turning soft and unfocused for a long moment before he had visibly shaken himself, and had proceeded to drain most of a flagon of mead in one long draught.

Had he guessed the truth about her family? She didn’t think so, surely he’d have reacted with far more anger. But in that case, what had upset him?

She wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem like the time or place to enquire about such things. And for all that they were making a pretense of being lovers, she simply didn’t know him well enough to ask such a personal question.

On the other hand, she would be expected to know some personal things about him, wouldn’t she? Perhaps the topic of family was one she would need to tread carefully around, but there were other things to discuss. She recalled the ruse Mac had explained to her. “Me laird… Aedan… what would ye have me call ye? Now that we’re in the company o’ yer kith and kin?” She blushed slightly. “Yer man was warning me that some o’ the mannerisms I’m used tae wouldnae be what is expected…”

“Call me whatever ye wish, little trickster.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes, banishing the melancholy of moments before. “I like the way ye speak tae me, whatever the address.”

“Me laird then, when ‘tis proper. And Aedan otherwise.” It would make things easier, even if it felt strange to her to be addressing a man who was scarcely more than a stranger by his given name. “I dinnae have a nickname tae offer ye… yet.” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Well enough. I look forward tae hearing what ye will come up with and when ye will use it.”

“Whatever dae ye mean?” Thora blinked at him, hearing but not understanding the sly, subtle teasing undertone in his voice.

Aedan leaned toward her, eyes shining like embers, intense and with a spark of mischief. “Fer a laird, use o’ a given name is an intimacy nae often conceded. And use o’ a nickname, even less.” One hand reached up to caress a wayward lock of hair back from her cheek, as his mouth quirked in an oddly gentle smile. “I look forward tae what name ye’ll give me, little trickster… and what intimate circumstances we’ll share when ye speak it.”

A breath like the ghost of a kiss brushed her cheek and the lobe of her ear, and sparks danced along her skin, as if she were playing by the edge of a crackling hearthfire, or running her hands through the golden rain cast by the blacksmith’s wheel when he sharpened steel. Thora sucked in a sharp breath, heat flaring from her belly to her cheeks in a rush as Aedan sat back, the smile still lingering on his face.

“And now who is bein’ the tease?” She offered him a scowl with absolutely no ire in it, then turned her attention to her cup, and the remains of her meal.

The ruse was necessary, she knew that as deeply as she knew what would come to pass if she and Aedan did not attend Lachlan Ross’s Yule. She had not thought, however, that it would be so risky, or that the greatest danger would come, not from being discovered, but from lies becoming a half-truth that entangled them both.

Aedan Cameron was a dangerous man. She had known of his prowess on the battlefield, his skill with a blade and his strength as a leader. She had not known, or realized, how she would be drawn to that darkly complex and withdrawn personality.

She had not realized that he could smile in such a way that she would wish to see more of those smiles, or that she would see more of him than the grim warrior that was all she’d ever known of him before.

She couldn’t afford to do more than like him as a companion in her quest and perhaps a friend. Anything else would be dangerous, courting disaster, and it would only leave her sick with guilt and fear, at the knowledge of the falsehood that still lay between them.

Thora MacTavish, the village girl, could play at being the lover of the Laird Cameron, and even admire - possibly even desire - the man behind the title But Thora MacLeod had to remember that there could be no true relationship between them while she was concealing her identity. And she had to remember that Clan Cameron and Clan MacLeod were not allies, and that there were reasons she had come to him under a false name in the first place. One mistake, and everything she had worked for would come crashing down into ruins. She couldn’t allow herself to feel more than perhaps friendly affection for Aedan Cameron, no matter how handsome he was, or how enthralling the glimpses were of the man behind his mask of stern aloofness.

She knew all of that. So why did that small, wry smile, and the ghost of mead-scented breath along her cheek make her blush, and cause her heart skip a beat?

If she’s in the habit o’ blushing every time I make a chance remark, she’ll be considered the shyest lass in the Highlands - and twill be difficult tae convince anyone that we’re lovers. Mayhap I’ll have tae tease her more, until she gets more used tae me.

The prospect didn’t bother Aedan nearly so much as he might have expected. Perhaps it was because Thora MacTavish was as lovely when she blushed as she was when she was composed. Or perhaps it was because some spirit of mischief still lingered within him, a desire for some form of gentle retaliation for the embarrassment she’d subjected him to by kidnapping him from his own castle, then drawing him into this absurd charade.

Although teasing her did have its drawbacks, as he was reminded as he shifted into a slightly more comfortable position in his chair. Despite rumors about his stoicism, rumors he’d encouraged so that people would not think him a soft or ineffective laird, he wasn’t made of stone.

He also wouldn’t be able to seek out a serving maid or a willing wench in the village for relief, not when his ‘bride’ and supposed frequent lover was beside him. He couldn’t afford the rumors such behavior would cause. Though perhaps, when this was all over, he could get ‘caught’ in a compromising position with a lass. Of course he’d be labeled a rogue, and his reputation as a gentleman might suffer a bit, but it would be as good a reason as any for them to go their separate ways.

He could always say afterward that he had never promised her anything, and that when she had turned up at the castle, he had asked her to accompany him as Lady Cameron for his own convenience. Since there was nothing between them, save their temporary alliance to thwart the ‘fate’ she’d dreamed up, presumably Thora would be willing to go along with whatever plan he concocted, assuming that she hadn’t dreamed up one on her own, without telling him, by that time.

Dreamed up… the play on words ought to have been more amusing than it was, but the thought of planning to separate, and of being unfaithful, left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d never been that sort of man, and the idea of appearing such, even as an end to this farce he was engaged in, was an uncomfortable one.

With effort, he set the thought aside. He had at least a fortnight before any of that would be a concern, and dwelling on it too much would affect his ability to portray an attentive lover in the meantime. With so many other things for him to devote his attention to, it was easy enough.

Looking at her, he was conscious of something he hadn’t considered thus far, but which was something he might be expected to think of, given that they would be keeping company for several days. “Dae ye have aught with ye fer the night’s leisure, or the days? ‘Twillnae all be feasting and dancing at Laird Ross’s Yule.”

Thora blinked, then shook her head. “I didnae think tae bring anything with me, when I came. ‘Twas too urgent fer me tae be weighed down with unnecessary baggage.”

“What is it ye like doing when ye’ve a spare candlemark at home?”

Thora smiled, a soft, whimsical smile with a hint of gentle mockery in it. “’Tis scarcely a spare one tae be found, ye ken. But I’ve a fair hand at needlework - nae so good as me sister’s in terms o’ sewing, but I dae embroidery. I read and write as well - I ken tis nae usual fer a village lass, but me faither insisted, and so did the priest, when me Gift became apparent. They wanted me tae be able tae record and read me dreams, if there was nay one around I trusted enough tae tell them tae.”

No wonder she had been so determined to get him to believe in such things, after having received so much encouragement from her family and the village priests - most likely supporters of the Old Ways, the Druid rites and witch-songs that so many celebrated alongside the more festive events of Yule and other holy days.

He returned his attention to her words as she continued. “I’ve skill with herbs and simples as well. I’m more likely tae use herbs and flowers for soaps, candles and the like.”

Aedan blinked as she turned her luminous gaze in his direction. “And what o’ ye? What fills yer time when ye dinnae have duties, me laird?”

It was all he could do not to snort derisively. Being a laird - at least a proper, responsible one, as he tried to be - meant he had very few candle-marks where he had no duties to perform. A few moments here and there, when preparing for bed, or in the bath were usually all he had.

He took what joy he could in training with his men, overseeing the breeding and teaching of his horses and hounds, and riding the hunt. On a rare evening, he and Mac might play a game of chess or cards in his study and share a drink and quiet conversation.

Thora was still waiting for an answer, and Aedan sighed. “I dinnae have much free time. I tak’ me enjoyment where I can find it.” Recalling the role he was meant to be playing, he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “And so far as me clan-folk ken it, ye ken better than most how I’ve spent much o’ my free time o’ late.”

Thora blushed a pretty shade of rose, but her smile was a match for his own as she returned his gaze. “I suppose ye have the right o’ it, me laird. And that daes make it easier, fer I wondered how I was tae entertain ye, during our time at Ross Castle.”

The words, and the image they brought to mind, were enough to make Aedan reach for his tankard and think hard about midden heaps and Council meetings, to avoid embarrassing himself.

Saints, gods and Fair Folk, it had been too long since he’d had a woman in his arms or in his bed, if Thora could arouse him so easily. She was a bewitching lass, right enough, but he usually had more self-control.

He coughed. “I wouldnae wish tae risk embarrassing Laird Ross’s servants. However, if ye’ve a mind tae learn aught o’ cards or chess, Mac and I might be willin’ tae teach ye the games. And, o’ course, ye ken Laird Ross will be providin’ his own entertainment, most evenings.”

“I dae enjoy learning new things, me laird.” Thora smiled. “I’d be most happy tae learn the games ye enjoy. Perhaps after supper?”

“Aye. After supper.” He had work that needed to be done, much of it in regard to their travel to Ross Castle, but he supposed he could set it aside for a candle-mark or so. A late night would ensure he slept soundly when he did reach his bed.

Aedan blinked as he realized that he was considering setting work aside to entertain a lass who, not a day before, he had considered a misguided wench. A woman who’d kidnapped him and forced him into a difficult position, and now he was considering teaching her card games.

‘Tis tae support the ruse o’ bein lovers. Naething more. ‘Twould be expected that I’d entertain me lady in the evenin’, especially if preparations fer a journey mean we’ll have little time taegether in the day. That’s all there is tae the matter.

Aedan swallowed another drought of mead, turned to speak to Christopher, and willed himself to believe his own thoughts with every fiber of his being.