I dinnae struggle when I was in his arms because I swear it felt as though it had happened before. Those strong hands, the feel of his chest pressed against me breasts, even the honeyed heat of his breath on me cheeks; it reminds me of that night.
Emer stood in the middle of Caillen’s bedchamber, holding a pillow close in her arms, and said out loud to the empty room,
“Well, ‘tis nae possible! Nay Laird prowls the bedchambers of guests and waits in the dark to pounce on maidens all unawares! Just the thought of him doing it is laughable! And besides, he never wears lavender. In fact, on the night of the feast when he came to the kitchen, all I could smell on him was the stench of wine and rich foods.”
Amidst the jumble of theories in her head, Emer kept the words her mother had said to Davinia before she left to work at the keep: “Nae matter how handsome the man or impressive his title-remember this daughter;neverlie with a man until ye are betrothed or married. If ye bear a bairn out o’ wedlock, it brings shame to ye and shame to our family!”
Emer looked down at Caillen’s bed and imagined lying on it with him, and then shook her head firmly in denial.
“He can be as nice as he pleases, but I think I’ll stay lookin’ for the lavender man. He was me first kiss when all is said and done, and I have a feeling that if he were to lay with me anywhere, it would be the best thing to happen to me, with or without wedlock!”
Satisfied that she had told any eavesdropping house-elves exactly what she felt, Emer went back to cleaning the bedchamber with renewed gusto.
* * *
When Emer left Caillen in the morning room, he sat slumped in the chair by the table for a long time. His thoughts were every bit as chaotic as his new maid’s if only he were able to know it.
In his mind, Caillen had always been logical and objective. These traits had been a big help to him during his voyages. When he was trading in foreign markets and making deals with merchants, knowing the true value of something and one with no resale merit whatsoever, no matter how sparkly it looked or heavy it felt, was what had made him quite a fortune. None of these talents were of any use when it came to affairs of the heart, however.
The moment I inhaled her intoxicating scent, I ken she were the woman from the bedchamber! But I must think rationally about this before throwing all caution to the wind.
Caillen weighed up all the reasons why Emer might not be the same woman.
Emer might have gone into the mystery lady’s bedchamber that day and stolen a perfume she found there.
Impossible! Nae a visitor had such a distinguished scent-I met with every one o’ them. I kissed every female guest’s hand.
She might have been cleaning the distillery and found some exotic spice or herb-maybe soaked her clothing in it.
Nae, Mistress Burroughs keeps that room under lock and key.
And none of Caillen’s theories could make any sense of why Emer would be upstairs in the first place, especially when Mistress Drummond would have been keeping all the kitchen maids so busy for the feast.
Giving himself a shake to clear his head of all this ceaseless conjecture, Caillen left the morning room and proceeded with his enquiries. His questioning was thorough and meticulous; it helped keep his mind from wandering back to the night of the feast. It gave him hope he would be able to sleep that night without having the image of Emer appearing in his mind all the time.
* * *
Over the next few days, both Emer and Caillen were too busy to think beyond their demanding schedules.
For Caillen, delivering his own messages to neighboring clan chieftains and waiting for their replies could sometimes take more than a day and a night. But it was a fruitful undertaking; he learned how busy the emissaries from the Sutherlands had been and what deals they had put on the table. With every visit, Caillen was able to placate truculent Highland chieftains with sweeter contracts and extend the hand of friendship and alliance further than it had been in his father’s time.
The story everywhere stayed the same. The Sutherlands knew what fees and dues the chieftains were paying the Maclachlan keep in exchange for safe passage for their goods through the mountain passes and training and housing their men in preparation for battle. And it was not even a vague guess at the amounts either. They knew how much the clans were paying the castle keep, down to the last penny. Additionally, the chieftains had been assured by the Sutherland clan they would experience no backlash for changing their loyalties.
Caillen had to admit to himself as he rode across his lands and over to his neighbors’-for years, his father had been steadily increasing tariffs across the board, with no very good idea about what the clans could afford or offering them something extra in return. It would take him hours of sitting around great hall tables drinking mead and charming recalcitrant clan leaders before they were willing to renegotiate terms.
After a few weeks, slowly but surely, Caillen began to win back the trust of the old Maclachlan allies and turn them to his side. His stern but friendly request after every meeting was this: “Send someone to tell me if ye need assistance or have a problem. Dinnae commit anything to paper nor tell anyone about what it is ye wish to say. If the Sutherlands want to take over our beloved side of the Highland mountains, they must never ken our hidden strengths or suspect our strategies.”
Each time Caillen rode home after a particularly grueling negotiation, he would find himself perking up at the thought of seeing Emer when he returned. If she was not in the upstairs maids’ parlor darning some of his clothes or ironing one of his cambric shirts, he would ramble aimlessly around the dark passages of the castle in the hope of seeing the outline of her slim figure when he opened the door to some room devoted to the upkeep of the Laird’s comfort.
If there came an evening when he could not locate her, and knowing it was too late for him to make an excuse to call her to his room, he would sit slumped in the armchair in his bed chamber and bemoan the mystery of the stolen kiss to Gilby.
“I cannae stop thinkin’ about that kiss, Gilby, I found it so exciting and captivating, all at the same time,” he complained aloud that evening.
Gilby, busy stacking his master’s shirts back in the closet, came out to hear the last part of what Caillen was saying, “I never would’ve guessed a ride to the Lewis clan or having a meetin’ with their chieftain could be so interestin’, me Laird,” he said with a puzzled frown.
Caillen gave a shout of laughter, “Nay, ye misheard me, Gilby, it wasnae the Lewis meeting I was speaking about...”
Then he realized how silly it would be to sit reminiscing about a stolen kiss with a lass he had no proof was even the woman in question, especially with his old sea voyage companion.
