Page 4 of Highlander’s Devious Ally

He felt shocked, but at the same time gratified. Something about Jock McCauley did not sit well with him, and it seemed that Ailith was not as fond of him as she liked people to think.

Gently, he took her hand away from her face. “No one will hear this from me.” His voice was quiet and firm. “And give yourself peace, Mistress. Most people of our kind are not in love when they are wed.”

She looked up into his grayish-green eyes and he looked into her bright green ones, and something passed between them. Neither could voice it, but they knew it was there.

So did Jock.

He saw them as he turned around from the carafe of wine, and watched the little tableau as it unfolded. Lyall had kissed her hand, but that was a conventional and polite way for a man to greet a lady. Then the sister went away and they stood talking for a while. Jock noticed that Ailith had to tilt her head back to meet Lyall’s eyes, and he felt a surge of jealousy at the stature of this very masculine man.

Abruptly, she put her hand to her face and her eyes widened in shock. Then Lyall held her hand. How dare he! he thought. He was still holding it when Jock came up to offer Ailith some wine, but he let it go as soon as he saw Jock.

“M'Laird, I am sorry, but I did not know you were here"—Jock gave Ailith her wine and smiled lovingly at her—“or I would have fetched a glass of wine for you.”

“No matter.” Lyall’s voice was light and a slight smile touched his lips. “I need to keep a clear head anyway. This is my sister’s first ceilidh and I have to make sure she is not indulging in the wine to excess. The last thing I want to do is carry her home!”

Ailith smiled but she was still feeling a bit flustered, and quickly thought up an excuse to get away. “Will you both excuse me?" she asked. “I see that Mary Owens has something desperately important to tell me." She hurried away with the eyes of both men following her.

Jock tossed back his wine in one gulp and turned to Lyall, his eyes blazing with anger. “I think we have something to discuss, M'Laird," he said, his tone grim and menacing.

“Really?” Lyall gave him a puzzled smile. “I cannot think of a thing I have to talk to you about, Laird McCauley, but please enlighten me." He looked down on Jock from his vantage point four inches above the other man’s head. “Please tell me what is troubling you, for I can see that something is.”

“Outside,” Jock snapped, and strode away. He went to the courtyard exit and strutted outside, then turned to face Lyall. “What were you doing with my Ailith?" he demanded. “Why were you holding her hand?”

Lyall frowned darkly. “Your Ailith, M'Laird?" he asked curiously. “Since when did Mistress Galloway become your property?”

“Since I became betrothed to her, you big lump!” Jock hissed.

“So you must be her property too?” Lyall asked innocently.

“Do not be dense!” Jock shouted so loudly that several of the guards rushed over to see what the fuss was about. Jock waved them away. “A woman cannot own a man!”

This time Lyall’s frown became a glare, and Jock took an involuntary step backwards, although an expression of defiance stayed on his face.

“M'Laird McCauley,” Lyall said evenly, “I was holding Ailith’s hand because she had just remembered something unpleasant.”

“What?” Jock demanded, his voice desperate. “What did she tell you? I saw her face as she was talking to you.”

“Perhaps you can comfort her better than I can,” Lyall said calmly. “I do not wish to be involved. Good evening.”

Then he strode away and went back inside. He looked for Ailith but she had gone. He spent a long time looking for Fenella before he realized that she and her friends had snuck away somewhere so that Fenella could catch up on all the gossip she had missed while she was in mourning. How he envied her! If only his life were so simple. He sighed.

Presently he saw Ailith and Jock walking onto the dance floor. Jock caught Lyall’s eye and gave him a sly, triumphant smile. This is my woman, it said.

Ailith’s face might have been carved out of stone, as expressionless as it was. She felt as though her world had tilted out of balance suddenly, and the man responsible was Lyall Stevenson. Jock was angry with her and was dancing only for the sake of appearances. She knew that later on there would be a reckoning.

“What were you and Lyall Stevenson talking about this evening?” Jock asked as he poured her a glass of goats’ milk, which she liked to drink before bedtime. His voice was very calm, but it had a throbbing undertone of anger. “And why was he holding your hand?”

Ailith took a deep breath. She hated lying, but she knew that if she did not there might be trouble for Lyall. “I was remembering the day my cat Lindy died. She was fifteen years old and I was only eight. She had been with me all my life and my heart was broken." She stopped, tears coming to her eyes at the memory, then plunged on. “A little black cat ran in front of us and I remembered it.”

“Is that all?” Jock asked in disbelief. “I thought he was trying to seduce you!”

Ailith rounded on him angrily. “And you think I would let him?" she cried furiously, color reddening her cheeks. “I am betrothed to you, Jock! I gave my word and I never break it. This may not be an ideal match for either of us but we are committed now.” She meant that.

Jock stepped forward and put his arms around her. “It is an ideal match for me, Ailie," he murmured. “I have never told you before, but I love you, and I want us to be married as soon as possible. I know you do not feel the same way as I do, but perhaps you can learn, and I will be the best and most devoted husband I can be.”

Ailith nodded. “I am fond of you, Jock, but I was angry because you thought I was breaking my word. There is nothing between Laird Stevenson and me." She sighed, and then smiled brightly at him, trying to convince herself that she could learn to love Jock.

However, Jock was nursing a smoldering rage inside him as he kissed her soft lips. She must think I am an imbecile, he thought angrily. There never was a cat.