Page 329 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Eight

A dark haired woman appeared in the outer kitchen doorway, yanking Victoria’s concentration from the potatoes piled before her, the conversation she’d overheard two days before playing in her mind. The heated Gaelic that spewed from the woman’s lips dispelled the ethereal picture created by her silhouette against the low sun in the sky behind her.

Maude’s expression clouded and she stepped forward to return the stranger’s volley in kind. The woman pushed past the housekeeper, her gaze on Victoria. Heat rushed to Victoria’s cheeks when the young woman’s mouth curved into a sneer as she shot another volley of Gaelic at her. Victoria caught the word Sassenach and winced at the venom in the woman’s voice. The woman whirled and stormed from the room.

Maude faced Victoria. “Do not let her bother you.”

“She called me Sassenach. Does she hate us so?” Victoria asked as she stared out the door after her.

“Aye,” Maude said. “She has no love for the English.”

Victoria sighed. “I have been here two weeks, why seek me out now to be cruel?”

“She has been away.”

“I see. Now that she has returned, she feels it her duty to put me in my place.”

“Well, I wouldna’ say that,” Maude said. “Had

Iain been here—”

“I am sorry for the enmity between the English and the Scots,” Victoria cut in, “but I have committed no wrong against a Scot.” Though there was a particular Scot she would have liked to do bodily damage to.

Maude laughed. “You might consider that Highlanders have no more love for the Scots than they do the English, yet you persist in lumping the two together. Never mind. Iain will make it right when he returns.”

“By all that’s holy, how is he to do that? Far too much damage has already been done.”

“Has it now?” Maude asked softly.

Victoria slashed away at the potato she was peeling. “Aye.”

“Well, it seems to me if that be the case, you are a very lucky lass, indeed.”

Furious with herself, as well as the man who remained miles out of her reach, all Victoria could think to say was, “Ha!” before bringing the poor potato to a violent end.

* * *

Iain reveled in the sweet song of hearth and home as he stepped from his horse, then waded through the people who paused in their daily work to welcome him home. With a clap on the back to a well-wisher and a final ruffling of little Simmy’s hair, Iain started for the castle. Thomas emerged from the grove and waved.

He lengthened his stride to catch up to Iain. “All went as planned?”

“Aye,” Iain replied.

“You have been gone longer than anticipated.”

“I had business to attend to,” Iain’s attention snagged on Riley trailing along behind one of the kitchen maids. Even the distance between Iain and the couple didn’t disguise the haughty look on the girl’s face as she turned away from the young warrior. Iain smiled when Riley remained undaunted even when she waved him off as if shooing away a fly.

“How did things fair with Liam?” Thomas asked.

“He promised to see to the punishment.” Iain replied, wondering why the vigor of youth was wasted on those who hadn’t the vaguest notion what to do with it.

“So you left it to him, then?”

“Aye. We shall see how the old man deals with such matters.” Cool air gusted across the courtyard and Iain’s dark hair swirled about his shoulders. He looked toward the distant mountain peaks. “A storm is brewing in the north.” His attention lingered on the dark clouds hovering there. “I wonder if—” Soft music brought Iain to an abrupt halt in front of the postern door. “What is that?”

Thomas listened. “I believe that would be your lady.”

Iain blinked. “She plays?”