The Highlander's Redemption. Marguerite Kaye
had reached the close which was the entranceway to Calumn’s rooms. Smiling at her lisping attempt at the Scots tongue, he pushed the gate open and ushered her through into the courtyard. As she moved past him, the swell of her hip brushed his leg, and he remembered last night again. Her body had been so soft and pliant, on top of his own. He thought of the way her hand felt so at home in his after breakfast this morning too, and before he could stop himself he wondered if her lips would fit his in the same way.
She had stopped to wait on him as he shut the gate. As she made to walk to the stairs he caught her arm and pulled her towards him, startling himself almost as much as her. ‘You are far too pretty to be called a grand lass,’ he said. ‘You, Madeleine Lafayette, are a captivating wee witch.’
‘I am not a witch,’ Madeleine said, flustered and indignant. She could feel the heat of his body, though they were hardly touching.
‘No? Maybe a fairy then,’ Calumn said, wondering fancifully if she had indeed cast a spell on him. Mere foolishness, but he hadn’t come across her like before, and he didn’t seem to be able to make himself stop what he knew he shouldn’t be doing, for he wanted, suddenly, urgently, to kiss her. He leaned closer, and caught a trace of her scent, remembered that too, from last night, like the wisps of a dream.
‘What are you doing? Let me go.’ Madeleine’s lungs seemed to have stopped working. Her heart was pumping too hard. Calumn’s eyes sparkled blue like the summer sea. He looked as if he was going to kiss her. Surely he would not dare? Surely she would not …
Calumn kissed her. It was the softest of kisses, just a touch of his lips on hers. A warmth, a taste, a curl of pleasure inside her, and it was over. ‘Oh! You should not—’
A hooting noise interrupted her. It was Jamie, standing on the bottom step, a dog comprised mostly of terrier wriggling in his arms. ‘Me ma says to remind you that this is a respectable close.’
‘As if she would ever let me forget,’ Calumn muttered, straightening up. ‘Here, go and put your washerwoman’s apron on. I’ve a bit of business to attend to. I’ll be back in time to escort you up to the castle.’
He handed Madeleine the key to his lodgings. Madeleine took it, trying not to imagine what kind of woman Jamie’s mother must be imagining her, to be caught kissing in public, even though he had kissed her without the slightest bit of encouragement! They would think her the same type of woman that Calumn obviously imagined her to be! For the first time since she had arrived, she was glad to have the North Sea between herself and her home. If her father had—but he had not seen, and would never know, and she would make sure it didn’t happen again, so it was pointless to worry. ‘There’s no need to come back for me,’ she said to Calumn, thinking that perhaps the less she was in his company the better, ‘I know the way now.’
His lips thinned. ‘You’ll do as I say,’ he said implacably.
It would be a waste of breath to argue; besides, she had much more important things to do right now. Madeleine nodded her agreement and made her retreat.
An hour later, her transformation to laundry maid was complete. She had tucked her petticoat and shift up at the waist, exposing her ankles in the way she noticed all the women did here, for the very practical reason of keeping their clothes from trailing in the stinking gutters. The closed robe she wore, the only one she had with her, was of cerulean blue with a darker stripe, and though the material, a blend of wool and silk, was of excellent quality, the long starched cotton apron Jeannie had given her covered much of it. She’d taken off her saque-backed jacket, and made sure that the frills of her shift showed at the neckline of her dress and at the hems of her tight sleeves, which she had pushed up to the elbows.
‘Well, do I look the part?’ Giving a little twirl before curtsying low in front of Calumn, she unwittingly granted him a delicious view of her cleavage.
He had thought her slender, but her curves were now clearly revealed. She had a delightful body. The slim arms emerging from the fall of lace at her elbow were white, the fragile bones at her wrists and ankles, and the elegance of her long, tapering fingers, her neck, all were somehow emphasised by the changes she had made to her clothing. The soft mounds of her breasts had the lustre of pearls against the white of her shift. Her mouth, with its full lower lip, was pink and luscious.
‘You look more like a princess playing at dressing up. Here, let me.’ He carefully tucked her hair back under the cap, giving her a marginally less just-got-out-of-bed look. Up close she smelled as sweet as she looked. Lavender and sunshine. ‘I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea after all, letting you go to the castle like this. Can you not pull the neckline of that dress a bit higher? You’ll have half the garrison lusting after you.’
‘I’ll be with Jeannie.’
‘Exactly. I should never have introduced you to her. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
Madeleine giggled. ‘You weren’t thinking very much at all. You had the headache from all that wine—no, I forgot, whisky—last night. You shouldn’t drink so much.’
‘If you had to live in my head, you’d know I can’t drink enough,’ Calumn flashed angrily.
Taken aback at the acrimony in his voice, she flinched. ‘And does it work?’
‘What do you mean?’
Resolutely, she held his gaze. ‘Mostly, people drink to forget something.’ ‘I am not most people.’
No, he most certainly was not. But he was trying to forget, none the less. Madeleine decided it was probably best not to say so, however.
They arrived at the bottom of Castlehill to find Jeannie waiting with two large baskets of laundry. She surveyed Madeleine and shook her head doubtfully. ‘They’ll have you for breakfast if we’re not careful.’
‘That’s what I’ve been telling her,’ Calumn agreed, picking up both the baskets, carefully stacking one on top of the other.
‘Don’t speak to anyone unless I tell you to,’ Jeannie said, setting off up the hill towards the castle at a pace which rivalled Calumn’s. ‘And don’t catch anybody’s eye, especially not Willie MacLeish, the head gaoler, he’s a lecherous old devil.’
Madeleine struggled to keep up in more ways than one, for Jeannie spoke as quickly as she walked, in a broad lowland dialect that she found difficult to follow. She was reduced to nodding and smiling as Jeannie continued to rap out instructions and advice, concentrating all her efforts on keeping abreast of her two companions. By the time they reached the entrance way to the castle she was out of breath and panicky.
‘I’ll wait for you here,’ Calumn told her. ‘Just do what Jeannie says, she’ll keep you right. Bonne chance. ‘
Madeleine smiled bravely, wishing desperately that he was coming with her. He had an air of authority which she was horribly conscious she lacked. Without him she felt strangely bereft and extremely nervous.
‘Stick close and you’ll be all right,’ Jeannie said reassuringly and set off apace. The guards at the portcullis nodded them through, casting a curious glance at Madeleine, but making no attempt to stop her. They hurried on up the spiralling incline to another gate and finally entered the heart of the castle. A company of soldiers were being drilled in the courtyard. The distinctive clang of metal on metal came from the armoury in the far corner. A group of Redcoats lazed idly in the afternoon sunshine. To Madeleine’s relief there was no sign of her attackers from last night. Already it seemed like a lifetime ago.
The familiar scent of horse was strong. She wondered if Perdita, her own faithful white mare, was missing her daily outing. She wondered what Calumn was doing. He was a strange mixture, that one, as fiery as the whisky he consumed to escape his devils. As golden in appearance, too, and, she suspected, every bit as addictive. A pleasure to be paid for with a sore head—or a sore heart, maybe.
‘Auld Willie MacLeish.’ Jeannie’s warning voice intruded on her thoughts. A middle-aged man with wispy tufts