It had been lust, pure and simple.
And yet she was conflicted. Part of her regretted her lack of restraint. Another part reveled in the pleasure he’d given her, in the discovery of what her body could feel. Not every woman was so fortunate. She’d heard the whispered complaints of her sisters and other lasses—of fumbling, selfish men, of rough couplings that gave little joy.
That hadn’t been Ailean.
He’d given her a night she’d never forget. And for that, she was grateful.
She hoped the memory would remain sharp in the years to come. One day, she might take a husband; one who hopefully wouldn’t mind that she was no longer a virgin. But that day was still far off. First, she had to make a name for herself as the finest weaver of The Western Isles. This man, however, would never be hers. Some futures were impossible. Impractical.
And even if it had been possible, the Chieftain of Dounarwyse’s roguish son was hardly a good choice of husband.
Wordlessly, she nodded to him and drew her shawl tight around her shoulders. During their coupling, she hadn’t felt the cold, but she did now. Spring’s chill still lingered.
She turned away, emerging from the thicket and crossing the grass to the road. Fortunately, it was empty.
Bowing her head, she quickened her pace toward Dounarwyse Castle.
And she didn’t look back.
11: TIME FOR CAUTION
“YE SEEMED TO enjoy yerself last night.”
The edge in his father’s voice made Ailean glance up from where he’d been rubbing Piper’s belly. The Highland collie had rolled onto her back before the hearth, demanding attention. And as always, he was only too happy to give it to her.
However, when he caught the glint in his father’s green eyes, the cocoon of contentment that had wrapped around him ever since he’d slipped back into the castle from that woodland copse—following the lovely Fiona Mackinnon—sloughed away.
Suddenly, he was wary.
He often was around his father these days. They’d always had an uneasy relationship, perhaps because they were so different. Rae preferred—and understood—Lyle better.
“It was a fine evening, was it not?” Ailean replied, deliberately non-committal.
In truth, he was eager to leave his father’s solar this morning and rejoin his friends downstairs. He’d just broken his fast with Craeg and Greig in the hall, and since their stay at Dounarwyse would be brief, he didn’t want to waste time up here. He hoped they might be able to go out for a deer hunt. Nonetheless, the laird had called for him.
“I enjoy a good fire festival as much as the next man,” Rae said, putting the quill he’d been using to scratch figures into a ledger back into its pot. He then pushed himself up from hischair, turning to give his son his full attention. “It didn’t escape me—or anyone else—that ye spent a great deal of time with Kylie’s talented young weaver.”
Ailean’s spine stiffened.
He should have expected this. After all, he’d danced openly with the lass, flirted with her, chatted between dances. He’d been deliberately cautious at the end, making sure no one was looking when he kissed her. And they’d been discreet when they left the bonfire. But his father missed little.
“She was good company,” he replied, flashing an easy smile. “Charming and spirited.”
His father’s jaw tightened. “And pleasing on the eye as well.”
Ailean shrugged, as if such things hadn’t crossed his mind—though Fiona’s image had been branded there from the moment she entered Dounarwyse. “She is. But so are many lasses.”
Rae folded his broad arms across his chest, brows drawing together. “I didn’t think I’d have to make myself clear … not when ye are a grown man,” he said, his voice rumbling across the solar. When he’d summoned Ailean, he’d thought it was to go over the accounts again—but he should have known better.
His father was about to tell him off, as if he were a randy lad of sixteen chasing skirts.
And ye’re really no better, a quiet voice whispered. Fiona had captivated him, stirred the recklessness that always simmered beneath the surface. He liked the danger. The heady thrill of getting away with something.
But as his father’s gaze hardened, Ailean realized he might have sailed too close to the wind last night.
It was time for caution.
“Ye aren’t to mess with any of my household servants,” Rae said. “And the weaver is no exception.”
