Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

L aura was breathless as her silly canvas shoes went pitter-patter down the tower steps. Never before had her physical needs betrayed her in such an unruly way before. Even now, certain parts of her body insisted she go back to the wild and brooding Highland laird immediately.

What are you doing, you foolish girl? It was a chance of a lifetime. This was the first time that she had been without chaperonage, free to explore the endless possibilities someone like Altair Sterling could offer her. Turn back! Turn back!

Rushing into the kitchen scullery, Laura placed the tray in the sink and then ran to the water bucket. Plunging her face in the clear liquid, she prayed the dowsing would free her mind from his control. The harsh cold of the water helped her wrest back the virtuous function of her body, but Laura's mind was in turmoil.

There was no outlet for the strong sensations that coursed to those tenderest parts of her female body. Laura wanted to scream and dig her nails down his back, so frustrated she was after Altair's bewitchment.

She should have been more cautious. Her attraction to him could not be contained.

Flinging herself to her knees on the hard flagstone floor, Laura attempted to pray. But every time she tried to whisper the familiar words, the image of the man in the tower overwhelmed her mind.

Through the storm of temptation, a soft light beckoned Laura to peace. He is a soul in torment. One night of torrid intercourse will not fix him.

At that, everything became still. Offering her maidenhead up to him as a sacrifice was not enough to break the spell that had enslaved the poor laird for centuries.

I will find a way to help him. Laird Sterling needed a better life than the one provided for him by the Berensons. They were too old and had also lost hope.

And on that more optimistic note, Laura was able to return to her bedchamber and sleep.

When she woke, Laura was greeted with good news. Stephen and Andrew had come back from Iolaire. Wolfing down the dry bannock Mistress Berenson had left for her on the plate, Laura rinsed out her mouth with water and ran downstairs to the kitchen.

She found the two Berenson sons in the garden. Well, it was not really a garden, more of an overgrown wilderness of creepers and weeds struggling to survive in the frigid mountain climate.

The middle-aged men returned her greeting. "Good morrow, Maid of Humberside." Stephen said politely. "We are pleased to report that yer nanny was fair to middling when we left her. It should only be a week or so until ye can continue yer journey."

Steward Berenson bustled out, carrying a shovel. "Aye, the lads speak the truth. Can ye believe it? Such luck ye have after yer misfortunes—a healer has come to live at Iolaire. It is she who cares for yer nanny and feeds her elixirs."

Laura did not know how to react to the information. While she was glad that Nurse Mildred was well cared for, she did not like the thought of leaving so soon.

Thanking the men, she went to the kitchen to sulk in secret with her strange mood. The housekeeper found her there. "What's to do, Maid? The master is looking for ye. Did ye nae ask him to take ye doon to Iolaire? He awaits ye in the great hall."

Her sulks forgotten, Laura clapped her hands. "Yay!" Seeing Mistress Berenson frowning at the young English maiden's elation, Laura changed her tune. "That is, I meant to say, aye Is that not the Scots word for ‘yes'?"

The old woman smiled. "Spoken like a true Scottish lassie, Maid. We'll make a Highlander oot o' ye yet! But ye should ken what an honor it is for the master to reveal himself to the villagers for yer sake. I just hope it doesnae expose him to any backlash."

Laura halted. "Do the villagers still recognize him as their laird? If so, they owe him their allegiance. They will unbend their poor opinions of him when they see how nice and normal he is."

Laughing merrily, Laura went to tie on her pathetic canvas shoes for one last time. Placing the box of baubles in her pocket because she wanted to keep her gold sovereign to give to the Berensons to say thank you for all of their help, she went to meet Altair in the hall.

Laura found the laird waiting for her. He had wrapped a long black cloak around his shoulders, with the hood pulled low over his face. "Ye dinnae need those shoes, Sonsie," his deep voice echoed around the empty hall walls, "I'll be leading ye doon the beinn on a pony."

Curtsying, Laura beamed a smile. "I thank you, Laird. Do you think the villagers would be willing to barter with me? I have a few baubles I wish to exchange for certain items I left in the coach. And I must pay a messenger to forward a letter to the Donaldssons for me."

If he was unhappy to hear Laura speak of her plans to leave, Altair made no sign of it. Leading the way, he took her to the stables in the courtyard, helping her sit sideways on the pony's saddle and placing her foot in the stirrup. "I have plenty enough for yer needs." Seeing Laura open her mouth to protest, he continued. "Ye can pay me back from yer new home."

For some strange reason, the calm way he accepted her inevitable departure made Laura depressed. No snappy reply or quicksilver joke came to mind as he looped the halter over the pony's head and began to lead it down a narrow path. It was an awkward trek, with bare rock face on one side and a precipitous drop on the other.

Laura believed it to be very representative of her current situation. On one hand, she had her new exciting life at the castle, which could lead her to fall hard and even smash on the stones. And on the other hand, she had the future her father had chosen for her—which would be as bland and boring as a rock face.

She noticed they were going down the mountain via a different route. "This seems to be a longer road, Laird," Laura remarked before looking up at the sky with a worried squint. "And it looks like it is going to rain."

Altair did not look back at her when he replied, "Going the front way would take ye back to yon trailbastons that attacked yer coach."

"Why do you call the rogues ‘trailbastons'?" Laura wanted to know.

Again, Altair's answer was brief. "Yer King Edward the First set up special courts called traillebastouns to judge Scots outlaws. The name stuck as a way to describe that scourge o' bustert knaves who prey on the weak and wealthy alike."

This prompted Laura's memory. "So, what are you going to do about the men who attacked my coach? They did it on your land, did they not?"

This time, Altair did turn to look at her. "Why d'ye think I'm comin' doon the beinn? While ye are busy with yer shoe shopping, Sonsie, I intend to pay the villains a wee visit."

Throwing back his cloak by flicking it over his shoulders, Altair showed Laura he had a sword strapped behind his back. The wind billowed out the black cloak like a sail, making him look like a dark bird of prey flying against the mountain breezes. His hair whipped around wildly, sometimes obscuring his face, sometimes rearing upwards as the draft hit the wall of rock behind him.

If he had asked Laura to bed with him then, she would not have had the willpower to deny him. She could only imagine how masterful and assertive he would be between the sheets. How could she feel compassion for such a brave Highland warrior? And then, as quick as it came, Altair hid his glamour behind his cloak again.

"B-but I counted at least a score of those trailbastons when they attacked the coach, Altair." But Laura worried needlessly.

He smirked and raised one eyebrow. "Have ye forgotten the magic that protects me already, Sonsie?"

Giving a nervous giggle, Laura leaned forward and patted the pony's mane. "Oh, yes. But does it not hurt? Or does the magic take that away from you too?"

This time, there was no smirk, and nor did Altair reply. He looked grim as he hid his face from the gray light. When it started to rain, he reached in the saddlebag and pulled out warm plaid for Laura to cover herself with. "I'll warrant that fancy Sassenach cloak o' yers has never seen such drookit before."

She asked him what ‘drookit' meant, and the rest of the trip down the mountain involved Altair telling Laura all the different words for Highland rain. Drookit was rain that soaked clothes. Smirr was misty droplets of rain, and harr was light rain that clung to the fibers of wool.

"Mizzle is a bit o' drizzling rain with mist, and then we have what we call ‘lashing' up in the mountains. That's a thunderstorm with heavy rain and fierce wind."

"It makes me miss the gentle April showers we have fall on the green grasses of England," Laura said in a soulful voice.

"What a load o' pish, Sonsie." Altair shrugged and fell silent.

Laura nearly fell off her pony as she tried to suppress her laughter. He was the most unpredictable man, but exciting and dangerous at the same time. He cared for no one's good opinion, and why should he? It was not as if he had anyone to impress or keep sweet.

When the village of Iolaire eventually hove into view, Altair pulled up just short of the boundary. "That tall hoose with the chimney stacks is the hostelry. Ye can send yer messages from there. If ye're hungry, they serve food and drink a-plenty. Tell the ostlers to tend to yer pony. When ye have discharged yer letters, go to the cobbler's and buy yer shoes. He will be able to direct ye to the healer's. Stay there an' visit with yer nanny until I come back for ye."

He helped Laura off the pony and held out his hand. On the flat of his palm was a small pouch. When Laura opened it, she saw it was full of coins. "I cannot take money from you, Altair. My father would think it so strange for you to frank me."

Sighing, he flicked his fingers impatiently. "Give me yer wee box o' trinkets in exchange."

She was happy with this, dipping her hand into her pocket and passing the small box to him. "I know it is your duty to rid the mountain pass of those villains, Altair, and that it was me who demanded you do so, but, please, do not allow them to injure you too badly."

He seemed touched by her concern. Running his finger down the side of her face to rid the skin of raindrops, Altair smiled gently. "If I dinnae come to the healer's hoose this evening, Sonsie, it only means I am hurt and must sleep to heal meself. Will ye wait for me?"

Worry almost overwhelmed Laura. She could not bear the thought of him lying wounded and alone on the mountain pass. Flinging her arms around his waist, she held on to him tightly. "I have changed my mind. Leave that gang for some other people to chase away."

She could feel his arms hold her closer. It was a heavenly, warm feeling. Laura could hear the strong beating of his heart as she pressed herself against him. It seemed such a normal thing to do when she lifted her face, allowing Altair to kiss her.

Her surroundings faded like mist on a hot summer's day as his mouth devoured her lips with an acute carnal hunger. At that moment, Laura realized that all of her previous encounters with erotica had been timid shadows compared to what she felt right now. Her silly maidenly dreams of easily controlled desire had been so tame. This—what he was doing to her right now—was the real thing.

The sublime sensation was a ravenous beast, demanding more the longer the kiss continued. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to probe beyond the limitations of her mouth, arching her neck to allow him access to her neck and breasts. And when he bit her lower lip very gently, it thrilled Laura to the core.

That wonderful nip he gave her with his teeth excited Laura. To know that pleasure and pain were only ever a heartbeat away made her legs weak at the knees. All too soon, she felt unity with those lovers who were so swept away by their cravings that they would join their bodies while lying outdoors where anyone could see them. Where any passerby could be drawn to find out who was making the soft moans of ecstasy in the pile of hay.

I will give myself to you, body and soul. I care nothing for the judgment of the world.

But the stirring of his own excitement brought Laura back to earth with a bang. It reminded her that the laird was a man, and that he would suffer none of the indignities the unexpected consequences of premarital sex could inflict upon a woman.

Gasping, she pushed him away. "You will think me a dreadful tease, Laird, but I am not. And-and I think it is cruel of you to tempt me with your magnificence."

Laura was angry that she had betrayed how much she wanted to lie with Altair. Right then, he seemed more like a tormentor than a lover.

"Wait for me," was all he said before turning and walking up the mountain again with his cloak billowing behind like two black wings.

Utterly bereft that he had left her there all alone, it took a while for Laura to collect herself and continue along the road into Iolaire.

After dispatching two letters, one to her father to tell him about Nurse Mildred's accident and the attack on the coach and the other to the Donaldssons explaining her tardy arrival, Laura told both recipients that they could send replies to the Healer of Iolaire. It seemed safe enough to say that much. After all, poor Nurse would be stuck there until her ankle was strong enough for her to walk without assistance.

The cobbler sold her a pretty pair of black leather slippers that tied around the ankle. The man told Laura that they were called ‘ghillies' in the Highlands. He asked her where she came from. "England," she told him firmly, "on my way to Donaldsson Castle."

The man sucked air through his teeth. "Och, the blood o' the Donaldsson clan is more Norsemen than Highlander. I suppose it doesnae matter if they add a wee drap o' Sassenach to the mix."

"What about the fortress on the mountain top? Is that laird a true Highlander?" She was too tempted to find out more about Altair now that she finally had some sort of conversation going.

The cobbler crossed himself and looked scared. "Dinnae turn that cursed orange eye towards me poor shop! There he sits like an eagle in its eyrie, raking oor village for weak to prey on."

Personally, Laura thought Altair's eyes were the most gorgeous amber color, but she kept this to herself. "What superstitious nonsense," she huffed, tilting up her chin a little, "I'm sure the laird is perfectly amiable if you gave him a chance."

"He's nae human." The cobbler whispered, darting fearful looks in the direction of the beinn. "Me own faither warned me to keep me eyes peeled towards the skies in case he swoops down like a vengeful dragon. One look into those orange windows to his soul, and no maiden can withstand their enchantment."

"Too bad the legend of your eagle-eyed laird was not enough to keep the gangs of villains from haunting the mountain pass." Laura sniffed as she left the store. But she worried about the last thing the cobbler told her. Had she been enchanted by the beastly Highlander on top of the windswept mountain?

Sometimes it felt like it.

Slowly, she made her way to the edge of the village, to where folks had directed her to the healer's cottage. A tall, exquisitely beautiful woman was standing in the narrow doorway as she was waiting for Laura's arrival. It was not etiquette to curtsy to those who were lower in station to oneself, but Laura felt a powerful urge to show obeisance to the healer.

"Good morrow. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Dame Agnes the Healer?" she asked politely, bobbing a quick curtsy. She had to shout quite loudly above the noise of the storm. Laura was trying to do her best not to look around at the cottage too critically. It was a hovel, made all the more creepy because of the rain and wind wailing around them.

She hoped the roof did not leak. If it did, there was the strong chance that Nurse Mildred might ask for Laura to carry her back up the mountain on the pony. The cottage was as much of an ancient ruin as the Sterling fortress; walls were crumbling into pebbles and dead creepers hung from the eaves.

The woman smiled when she saw Laura trying to hide her uncertainty. "I kent ye were the right one. I've been waiting a long time for ye, bonny lassie. Come inside. Yer nanny is on the mend. Ye dinnae have much time left, do ye?"

Uncertain how to reply to such cryptic utterances, Laura blurted out. "Time left until what?"

Agnes shot her an elusive smile. "Time until ye marry, Maiden. Nanny Mildred was just telling me that ye are to be wed."

And for some inexplicable reason, the thought of leaving the fortress on the mountain top and traveling on to wed Ethelred Donaldsson made Laura want to burst into tears.