Chapter 4

4

It was a bright, cold morning as the carriage rumbled over the path that led to the village of Stonehaven; the clean air filled Mary’s lungs, and she gulped it down in droves, glad that she was not still stuck up in her bed as she had been all night, tossing and turning.

It had been days since she had last seen Kiernan, and yet, her mind seemed to drift to him whenever there wasn’t anything directly in front of her to distract her. She had hoped that getting away from the Keep for a while would go some way to clearing her mind and she had joined Arran’s friend Gregory and a few of his men to run some errands in the village.

She peered out of the window, to the rolling hills beyond. They were studded with the bright yellow of gorse, a few scatterings of purple heather amongst them, embroidering the green like a delicate thread through a dress. She tried to keep her focus on the beauty of the landscape around her, but, as ever, she found her mind drifting back towards the one man she had been doing her best to forget.

Kiernan. She had spoken that name so many times inside her head, it almost felt like second nature to her now, though she knew it shouldn’t have. Had he been thinking of her the same way? She had wondered that often, as she had woken from intense dreams about him night after night. Each dream had followed the same path, starting out with the slow dance when they had first met, and then, sliding into something darker, her body trapped in the confines of a small room, contained, his eyes and his teeth gleaming in the darkness, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to take a bite out of her.

She pushed the thought aside as the thuds of the hooves of the horses pulling the carriage started to slow down. They had finally arrived in the village, a bright, bustling place that seemed alight with chatter. Gregory arrived at the door and pulled it open, offering her a hand to help her step out.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, and he bowed low playfully.

“My pleasure,” he replied, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She had grown fond of Gregory in the time she had been here. He was kind and witty, a good balance to Arran’s more serious nature. She could see how the two of them had become such fast friends, and she sometimes wondered why it was that a man of his age had not yet found a wife.

Splitting off from the rest of the group, Mary wandered towards the small market that had sprung up next to the inn, the same one that took place each week, where local farmers and other sellers would flog their wares to the highest bidder. Really, it seemed to be a chance for everyone to catch up on the local gossip, and, sure enough, she heard snatches of conversation flying around her as she made her way through.

“Aye, well, I heard that she’s already six months gone, and they only got married in the spring!”

“And did you tell him what you thought of that? I tell ye, if that had been me, I’d have given that man a piece of my mind…”

“…yes, Laird Fraser! I can hardly believe it, I thought he had been cast out of this place…”

Her feet stilled beneath her when she heard that name, the name of the man she had been doing her best to forget. She glanced over furtively to see where the conversation had come from, and, sure enough, there were a huddle of girls around one of the stalls, perhaps close to her in age. They were speaking with their heads lowered, as though they did not want anyone else to hear what they were conversing about, but the conversation still sent a prickle of fear through Mary’s body.

No, it was more than a prickle of fear. There was jealousy there too, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She was jealous that they were talking about this man, this man whom she barely knew. She was certain she was being absurd, but still, she found herself rounding on them, stepping closer so she could hear what they were speaking about.

All three girls looked around at her as she drew closer. The one who had spoken last lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows at her.

“Is there something ye’ve got tae say?” she demanded. Mary tossed her hair over her shoulder, mustering all the certainty she could.

“That man you were talking about, Kiernan Fraser,” she replied. “You should be careful of him. He’s no good. A very dangerous man, from what I hear. I’m sure girls like you wouldn’t want to get involved with someone so…”

“Someone so… what?”

Her heart stuttered, and, for a moment, felt like it stopped. She recognized that voice at once, how could she not? She spun around on the spot, and there, sure enough, was Kiernan himself, eyeing her with open amusement. He nodded for her to continue.

“Please, go on,” he prompted her. “I’d like tae hear what you’ve got to say about me.”

“I—I didn’t mean it like that,” she blurted out. The girls, ducking their heads low, turned their attention back to the stall before them, clearly not wanting to get involved in whatever this was.

“No, you were scaring away yer competition,” he remarked, an amused tone to his voice. “I cannae fault you for that.”

By now, her cheeks were blazing with heat, and she cursed herself for making it so obvious.

“That’s not why I was speaking to them.”

“Aye, you were just doing it out of the goodness of yer heart, were you?” he chuckled. He didn’t seem offended, which surprised her. No, he seemed… amused. She supposed he must have been used to people speaking about him in such a way. If Arran had heard such stories of him, she could only imagine how far they might have spread, the points they may have stretched to.

“I was just?—“

“I’m no’ angry at you, lass,” he assured her. “You can tell yer cheeks that.”

She lifted a hand to her face, annoyed that she was making how flustered she was so obvious. He seemed so utterly calm and cool in the face of everything that he came across, whereas she couldn’t seem to stop making a fool of herself whenever he was near her.

“I dinnae see much of you away from the Keep,” he remarked, tipping his head to the side, a dark strand of hair falling into his eyes. She wondered, briefly, if it would have been soft—how it would have felt to run her fingers through his hair, to feel the nape of his neck beneath her fingertips. She swallowed hard, forcing the image from her mind at once, trying to remind herself that she was an honourable woman, not some lusty maid who would swoon into the arms of any man she met.

“I wanted some fresh air,” she replied with a shrug.

“And perhaps a drink?” he suggested, nodding to the inn where Gregory and the other men had tied up their horses. A drink? With him? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but not an entirely unwelcome one. The notion of sharing such an intimate space with him excited her, there was no doubt about it, though she was sure she should have done a better job at containing it.

“She’s no’ interested in a drink wi’ you”

Gregory’s voice cut in from behind them, and she turned to see him standing just a few yards away, his face as hard as stone. Judging by the way he was looking at the two of them, Mary could have guessed that Arran had warned him to keep an eye on her. The thought irritated her, but, at the same time, she was sure it was for her own good. If this man’s reputation really did run as deep as Arran had claimed, then she was better off keeping her distance.

So why did she still feel so drawn to him?

“A walk, then,” Kiernan countered. “Somewhere you can keep an eye on us, eh, Gregory?”

She wasn’t sure how he knew Gregory’s name, but it seemed to annoy Gregory. He straightened his shoulders, glancing between the two of them. Mary held her breath. She didn’t rightly know which way he was going to go, and it worried her that he might tell her no, put her back in the carriage, and take her from this place before she so much as had a chance to speak to him again. She knew it was wrong for her to crave his closeness so much, but, after days of dreaming of him, she felt it was only right for her to have found him once more.

“Just a few minutes,” she pleaded with Gregory, and he seemed to sense that he would not get through to her. He sighed.

“Aye, fine,” he muttered. “But stay where we can see you. And be ready to go back to the Keep soon.”

She nodded, her heart leaping in her chest, and she stole another glance over at Kiernan. Even a walk would be a chance for her to get to know him a little better. She would take anything she could get at this point, anything that would go some way to sating the curiosity that had built inside her chest.

“How gracious of ye, Gregory,” Kiernan remarked, a note of teasing to his voice. Gregory glowered at him.

“Dinnae give me a reason to change my mind,” he warned him, and he turned on his heel to head into the market and pick up a few of the bits and bobs he had been sent for.

Just like that, it was only the two of them. Mary looked up at Kiernan. This was the first time she had seen him in the light of day. He was a little older than her, near thirty to her twenty, if she had to guess, and the crinkles around his eyes deepened as he flashed her a smile. He offered her his arm, surprising her with his gentlemanly knowledge. She took it, and, for a moment, she had to steady herself as the strength of him, even beneath his rough robe, sent a throb of excitement through her body.

“There’s a pretty spot down by the river,” he remarked as he began to lead her. “And you’ll no’ be out of sight of yer nannies.”

“They’re not my nannies,” she fired back, a little more sharply than she had intended. He chuckled.

“I was only jestin’ on, lass,” he teased her. “No need to worry.”

He led her towards the edge of the market, where, sure enough, a river flowed between two verdant green banks. She felt herself soften as they drew closer to it. She had always loved the sound of running water, something about it casting a peaceful spell over her body.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he remarked. She gripped his arm a little tighter. She wished, all of a sudden, that he was saying that about her, and not the water.

“Yes, it is.”

He chuckled, and she glanced up at him, another flood of redness coming to her cheeks.

“What? What is it?”

“Yer accent,” he remarked. “It’s… different.”

“And so you think you can laugh at me?”

He shrugged. Just behind them, in the market, a man tied up his horse so he could pick up some goods. The creature pawed at the ground and let out a snort, catching her attention. She turned, her eyes lighting up.

“Oh, isn’t she beautiful?” she breathed as she reached out to pet the horse’s neck. The animal was a deep chestnut brown, with a mane as dark as bark on an old oak tree. Her eyes, framed with long lashes, matched, with a soft sweetness Mary couldn’t resist. Though she could not ride well herself, she was hoping to learn while she was staying with Amelia at the Keep. She knew her sister had learned in the time that she had been staying there, and she could only imagine how exciting it must have been to feel the wind in her hair, hooves thundering beneath her as they carried her off anywhere she wanted to go.

“Aye, she’s a pretty one,” Kiernan replied. To her surprise, he reached out, too, and planted his hand on the creature’s neck. The horse bowed slightly at his touch, allowing for her to reach its mane, though she was paying more attention to the way he treated it.

His touch was gentle and careful, making sure not to spook the magnificent chestnut mare before them. How could a man who seemed to treat this animal with such care be as dangerous as Arran had claimed him to be? It didn’t make sense. She had never imagined that someone so fearful, someone who cast such a long shadow with their reputation, could have been even remotely capable of what these people seemed to believe him able to do.

For a moment, as both of them paid attention to the horse, their fingers touched, his smallest finger grazing against her thumb, and she felt that familiar jolt, that rush of sensation that began where their connection did and raced through her whole body. She longed to steal a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, wishing that she could check on how he reacted to it. Could he feel it as well? Or was she imagining it all between them, inventing some spurious romance that could never have existed? Perhaps he thought it was funny, seeing the way she reacted to him, making it so easy to read her desires with every motion.

He dropped his hand by his side again, and she followed suit, remembering all at once that Gregory and the other men were nearby. It would have been too much of a risk to try anything more than this. What they had done thus far could have been passed off as nothing more than an innocent walk, but if she let her touch linger on his for any longer, she might have been caught in the act.

And she didn’t much like the thought of finding out what would happen if Arran knew what she had been up to.

She swallowed hard, running a hand through her hair to distract herself.

“The heather on the hills is so beautiful, don’t you think?” she asked, blurting out something, anything as soon as she was able to. He smiled and nodded.

“Aye, it is,” he agreed. “I used to pull it up by the roots when I was a lad, made for a good place to sleep when it was clear out.”

The two of them continued to converse as they strolled along the edge of the river. Birch trees dipped their green branches low towards the water, and a few birds fluttered along the edges, trying to pick out an insect or small fish to feed on. Dandelions studded yellow along the banks, and tangles of wildflowers twisted by the path. He offered his arm again, but she declined it, too worried of how obvious she might make her attraction to him if she touched him again. It seemed as though it was coming off of her in waves, and the notion that he might catch on to it was nigh-on mortifying.

The entire time, she was distinctly aware of Gregory and the other men watching her. She could feel their eyes on her, taking them in at every second, not a single word or gesture unnoticed. Would they report it back to Amelia and Arran? And what would her sister make of it, especially since she had made it clear that she totally trusted everything that her husband believed? Surely, she would take his side, if Arran declared that her closeness to this man was a risk.

By the time they rounded back to the market again, dark clouds had begun to fill the skies above them. Kiernan looked up, and she noticed, for a moment, the sharp outline of his jaw beneath his skin. She wished she could run her tongue along it, taste the roughness of his stubble against her skin.

“Looks like it’s getting dreich,” he remarked. “You’d best be getting home, lass. Else you’ll be washed away.”

He smirked as he spoke, almost as though he were challenging her. She eyed him for a moment, trying to read his expression, his true meaning, though nothing seemed forthcoming.

“Take care o’ yerself,” he said, and with that, he turned to stride back towards the river, soon vanishing from her sight. She stared at the spot he had been standing, as though she could muster him back just through the sheer power of her thought, but the long silence remained, leaving her with it only the memory of his warning words.

And the question of when she was going to see this mysterious man again.

If ever.