Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

F or the first time in a long time, the laird's senses were stimulated when he opened his eyes. His bedchamber smelt of fresh cut flowers, and a delicious aroma was coming from the parlor. But it were his eyes that got the nicest surprise because Laura was seated on a stool next to his bed.

She was holding his hand. He could feel the slight friction on his skin as her thumb rubbed his wrist gently. "Are you awake enough to have supper, Laird?"

Raking his hands down his face to wake himself up more fully, he sat up to stretch. "How long was I asleep for?" he wanted to know. But before Laura could answer him, his brows lowered into a scowl. "I suppose ye're here to try an' sweet talk some answers oot o' me?"

Shaking her head so hard her braids spiraled, Laura denied his accusation. "No, not at all. If you want me to leave, I will."

Altair did not have to search too deep inside his heart to know that was the last thing he wanted. "Nay! Dinnae go awa'. I mean, ye must wait for yer nanny's leg to heal first."

Laura giggled. "I mean to say ‘do you want me to leave your bedchamber ', Laird. I cannot depart Iolaire yet—I do not even have shoes." As if to emphasize her statement, she lifted the hem of her robe and pointed to the canvas tied to her feet.

Still scowling because he had betrayed himself by getting mad at the thought of the young woman leaving, Altair threw off the covers and left the room. When he came back shortly, washed and shaven, he was amused to see that Laura was still there and not at all upset at his unpredictable mood swings. "Yer nerves are made o' steel, lass."

She must have noticed the twinkle in his eye when he lowered his brows to look at her because Laura said with a carefree air, "I care nothing for male moods, Laird. I had my fill of them living with my father."

Curtsying, she gestured towards the parlor, from where the good aromas filled the room. The table was set with eating tools, neatly laid out with linen and silver plateware. Not only was there a savory steamed pudding on a platter in the middle, but also a vase of greenery and wild flowers on the window ledge.

"Yer faither is a lucky man," was all Altair could think to say. Laura chuckled, flicking a folded linen napkin out before laying it on the table next to the freshly baked bread trencher.

"I'm afraid there was only brown flour in the pantry to make bread with. Did you know there were so many brambles growing up the castle walls that Mistress Berenson and I were able to make berry preserves?"

Remembering his manners, Altair gestured at the spare chair. "Would ye care to join me, Maid? There is more than enough food." He saw Laura open her mouth to excuse herself, so he continued quickly, "And it would please me if ye did. Yer scintillating stories aboot jam making will entertain us."

Yes, she did wish to please him, but she made a saucy remark first. "I see that sleep did not make you lose your talent for sarcasm, Laird," she smiled.

Laura sat down on the chair next to his, taking one of the spoons and accepting a small piece of his trencher bread. "You are a brave man, inviting me to sup with you," Laura spoke lightly, "because I have a hearty appetite."

Altair licked his fingers a few times before replying. "I like women with hearty appetites. If the lassies kent how bloody wonderful yer skin and soft flesh feels to the man touching it, ye would all set aboot making more of it."

Laura gasped, but it was more out of humor than shock. "How many women have ye touched, Laird?"

Taking a sip of wine, Altair shook his head. "I might be a virtual hermit and a grump, lass, but even I ken enough nae to answer that question." Noticing Laura's downcast look, he decided to be more diplomatic. "When I was a youth, the castle was heavin' with female servants. It was nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to during the colder months."

A naughty twinkle lit up her pretty dark brown eyes. "And in the summer months?"

But again, Altair shook his head, refusing to answer. So Laura filled in the conversation with her own suggestions. Maybe it was the wine, or perhaps it was because she was experiencing freedom for the first time, that made Laura's conversation turn spicy.

"It could be even better during the hot season, I think. I love the feeling of sweat trickling down my skin. It is so…tantalizing. The sheets dry on the washing line after being rinsed with sweet herbs; they smell delightful when I kick off the covers. I open the windows to let in the breeze. I hear the wind sighing through the tree branches like a lovesick maiden. And—and I do not care that I am telling you this—I remove my chemise and lie on the sheets as God made me!"

A heavy silence descended on the parlor after this flight of fancy finished. Laura looked at him with expectant eyes, a little bit surprised at the way her confession came out.

Altair took a sip of wine as he recollected himself. "Er, I dinnae ken how I can top that tale, lass. Ye take the prize."

They laughed uproariously together and poured each other more wine. Laura was encouraged to share more about her life with him as the drink warmed her veins. "It hurts my soul when I see poorly prepared food, Laird. Others go to so much trouble to grow it for us, the least we can do is honor their efforts by making it delicious."

Tilting back his chair so that he could look at Laura while she chattered away, the Highlander had to admit this was the most enjoyable meal he had ever eaten. And while the tasty pudding had a lot to do with the pleasure of the moment, his guest was the bright star that made it perfect.

"We had to boil up the berries without sugar loaf, Altair." Laura looked so beautiful when she pouted. He found it difficult to concentrate as she licked her lips and flicked her braids behind her. "I cannot live here without adding some sweetness to my food." Giving him another one of her enchantingly wicked looks from under her lashes, Laura reached over the table and grabbed his hand. "Please send the Berensons down this horrid mountain to fetch a sugar loaf or some honey from the village."

It was so nice to have her touch him and, for a moment, it was all Altair could think about. Then he realized that she was waiting for him to answer her. "Och, wheesht, I'm sorry to say that ye'll be waiting for a hell of a long time if it's sweetness ye're after, hen."

Laura's mouth formed an ‘o' as she got ready to protest, so he explained. "In the Highlands, the Kirk believes sugar is the devil's ingredient. It's salt or nothing, I'm afraid."

This shocked his lovely guest so much that she let go of his hand. "But sugar and spices are so delicious, Altair." Laura got angry. "It's the stupidest thing I have ever heard!" Then Laura's conscience nagged her. "I-I know it is expensive, Laird. Please forgive my outburst."

He laughed. Altair wanted to sweep this beautiful creature up into his arms and hold her tight so badly, he had to wrestle the urge deep down before he acted out on it. "Nay, sweetheart. Dinnae fash. If ye like, I can send one o' the Berenson sons over to Inverness. Such things can be found at the ports. But I am well satisfied with what ye have provided for me."

She blushed. "You are too kind, but an under seasoned pudding is not very satisfying, I think."

"That was nae what I meant," he growled in a low voice. The candles were guttering in the overflowing tallow catchers now. It was pitch-dark outside and the wind had picked up. Not a squeak or groan could be heard in the castle; the Berensons retired to bed a long time ago—and their quarters were far away, out of earshot of the tower.

Laura was not scared. "What did you mean?" she wanted to know. Her delicately arched eyebrows rose higher as she leaned forward, intrigued by what he had just said.

"There are more important things than food, and that ye have in abundance."

Her breath caught in her throat, but it was not from fear. Without knowing it, Laura's hands moved to her chest, as if she wanted to stop her heart from jumping out. Their eyes locked over the table, yearning, but hesitant.

It was clear to Altair that his shapely guest had never been complimented before. At least, not in such an intimate way. Laura might have received occasional praise from male visitors at her father's manor house, but to be alone with a man who had no problem telling her how intensely desirable she was to him must have been a novelty.

He was out of practice in the fine art of seduction, but he still remembered how powerful it felt to do it.

Laura tried her hardest to break the spell. "I have never had such a daring conversation before in my life." Giving a nervous laugh, she skittered back her chair and withdrew from him. "I know you want me to ask you what it is I have in abundance that you like so much. But I have a feeling that might lead me down a dangerous path."

"Bravo, lass!" he raised his glass towards her. "Ye hit the bull's eye. So, I will give ye the compliment for free—yer wit and kindness feed an empty part o' me soul." Altair gestured around, at the flowers, at the remains of the meal on the table, and at Laura's tempting cleavage.

"And," he continued, no longer caring what she thought of him, "yer beauty fills me body with the most ardent desire."

Time passed with no meaning. For that one magical moment, Laura was caught up in the same enchantment that held him, and she was spellbound by his allure. He could tell by the way Laura moved to tilt her hips slightly on the chair that the soft cleft between her thighs had become so heated she could no longer stand the pressure of sitting straight.

He waited. There was no need for him to swoop in for the kill; she was already mesmerized by his handsome face, braw body, and undeniable charisma. She had no idea how dangerous he could be to a young and untrained maiden. There was a reason why the villagers hated living in the shadow of his mountain, and this was it. He could have any maiden he wanted with a click of his fingers if he chose to throw his glamour over her.

The tip of Laura's tongue darted out as she wet her mouth. He liked the way her lips shone in the flickering candlelight.

A small moan came from her throat as she fought to quench the rising heat inside her. Laura's hands balled into fists as her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palms.

"I…" Laura struggled to get out the words she needed to repel him. "I-I feel sorry for you."

Her compassion broke the spell. Pushing his chair back so fast that it made a loud shriek, Altair flung himself over to the window. Collapsing back in her chair, Laura shook her head as if to clear the seductive images that had risen in there.

With her discipline back in control, Laura reaffirmed her feelings. "It must be so miserable for you here all alone, Laird. If you had a wife, it would make things go easier." She pointed to the empty platter that had once held the pudding. "To have someone who loved you would be so nice. Do you not agree?"

He dared not look at her. Was this girl a secret witch? How could she know the mysteries of his heart? "Nay." Breathing in a chestful of cold night air, he steeled himself and turned around. It was Laura who had the upper hand now because he knew that voluptuous body contained a pure heart. "Nay, Sonsie. It would be cruel for me to keep a wife as isolated as I am meself."

A smile broke across her face. "What did you call me? I like it."

Returning to his chair, he slumped back down on it. "Sonsie? It is a hard word to translate for ye, Sassenach. But seeing as we are being so candid with one another, I will try and convey its true meaning for ye." Fixing his gaze on her, he gave Laura a provocative grin. "In oor language, a ‘ sonsie ' is a bonny lassie with a generous figure shaped like an hourglass."

Laura threw back her head, allowing peels of laughter to bubble out of her mouth. "Yes! Now that I think about it, a sand clock is the perfect way to describe my body. It is a sad indication of my appetites, but I care not."

"There is nothing wrong with yer appetites, other than the fact that I was nae enough to tempt ye."

She grew sober again, playing with her braid nervously and looking down at her lap. "I was—I am tempted, Altair. I have more than an appetite when I am with you. I have a desperate hunger gnawing inside me. But when I leave this place, I will need to present myself to the world as a maiden because I am betrothed."

He adored the way Laura was determined to speak the truth. Leaning forward, he pinched her chin to make her look up at him. "I love the way ye keek up at me with those big bruin eyes o' yers. I tell ye what—when the lads come back from the village, I'll take ye doon to Iolaire. Let's see if we can rustle up some o' this sugar and spice ye crave so much."

Beaming a wide smile at him, she bobbed a curtsy and began to clear the table away. "I would like that very much. Thank you, Laird."

On her way out of the room, Laura tripped on a flap of canvas that had come loose from her makeshift shoes. With lightning fast reflexes, he caught her. Their bodies pressed close togethe,r and Altair could tell that this was the first time such close contact had happened to the Sassenach girl. "Dinnae let that tray drop, Sonsie," he set her back on her feet as gently as if she were a dainty porcelain doll, "Mistress Berenson would beat me roond the head with a broom if we broke her pottery."

Did she let him hold her tight for a few sweet moments longer than was necessary? Definitely. Her touch lit a pulsing fire in his belly that almost took his breath away. Altair had to swallow hard before he could make light of it. "Och, lass. We'll need to buy ye a wee pair o' shoes too whilst we're there!"