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The maid nodded and walked away, then Rowan turned to his men, scowling. “Ye say nothing about Fraser, ye hear?” he growled. “If the laird asks ye, ye don’t know. Ye say nothin’ or ye will have me tae deal with.”
“Aye, ye told us already, an’ we heard ye the first time,” Danny, one of his most trusted men, said wearily. “I am goin’ tae bed. Goodnight, lads.”
Rowan watched him as he left, thinking that something did not feel right.
Just then, the maidservant came back. “The laird wants tae see ye, Rowan,” she said firmly.
“What for?” Rowan was puzzled. Fraser McLachlan was practically the laird’s pet. Like a dog, he received all his attention, and Rowan had always been fiercely jealous of that. Indeed, it had been the biggest reason he had murdered him.
“I don’t know,” the girl replied, shrugging. “He does no’ let me intae his confidence. Ask him yerself.”
The young woman led him to the laird’s private parlor where he liked to relax on his own after the demands of a hard day. Unlike many landowners, Laird Gordon Gilchrist worked hard to keep his tenants happy and well-fed since he reasoned that happy tenants were more productive, which was true.
He often sent Fraser, even though he was a guard, to see tenants on his behalf and paid him a little extra for his trouble. This was a strictly private arrangement and no one but Fraser and the laird knew about it, or so they thought.
However, it had come to Rowan’s ears when one of his men saw the laird, thinking they were unobserved, handing Fraser a pouch of money one day in the stables. It made him mad with jealousy, as did the fact that he was a better swordsman, archer, and wrestler. He was even better-looking and always had a string of young women following him around, although as yet he had not fallen in love with any of them.
When Rowan stood in front of the laird, he could see that the man was upset. Usually placid and even-tempered, he looked worried and gulped down a glass of whiskey as Rowan watched. He came straight to the point.
“Have ye seen Fraser?” he asked. “I know that you are usually with each other.”
“He is my company leader, M’Laird, and cousin,” Rowan said. “Nobody seems tae know where he is.” Then he sighed and frowned. “M’Laird…” He hesitated a moment, his eyes cast down.
“What is it?” the laird demanded. “Go on, man!”
Rowan sighed and looked troubled. “I overheard one o’ the farmers sayin’ that he had seen Fraser wi’ Laird Mulholland’s daughter, Jeannette. He is a handsome man, M’Laird. I would no’ be surprised if she liked him…” He paused, then shook his head and held up his hand as though he regretted what he had said. “No, the farmer is probably wrong. Forget I said anythin’. I don’t want tae get him intae trouble.”
“I cannot forget it!” Laird Gilchrist smacked his fist on the table. “Do ye think it is true? If he is with her, he could be saying anything about us. No, I refuse to believe it. Fraser would never betray me.”
“Of course no’, M’Laird,” Rowan agreed soothingly. “Even though Jeanette Mulholland is very beautiful. But ye are right, an’ that farmer is likely imaginin’ things or has made a mistake.”
“What do ye think, McLachlan?” the laird asked again, his brown eyes troubled.
“I think ye must do what ye have tae, M’Laird,” Rowan said, shaking his head. He was absolutely full of glee and was having a hard time containing it. He had not overplayed his hand but introduced just enough doubt into the laird’s mind so that he had convinced himself that the lie was true.
“Go and find him,” the laird said heavily. “Preferably alive—dead only as a last resort. He cannot explain things tae me if he is a corpse.”
Rowan stood up and bowed. “I will, M’Laird. Goodnight.” He turned on his heel and left. It was all he could do not to jump up and down with unholy joy.
5
Fraser opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. The sunlight streaming in through the gap in the half-closed curtains was just too bright, and his head was spinning. He put a hand over his eyes, and a moment later, he tried again. This time, since his hand had created a little shade, he was able to open them fully, then he cautiously moved his hand away, blinked, and looked around.
He was lying on a straw mattress in a small, narrow wooden bed that had obviously been used by someone far smaller than himself since his feet were hanging over the edge. He was covered in a woolen blanket and a patchwork quilt made of squares of floral material, and this led him to the conclusion that he was in a lady’s bed. He drew his legs up so that his feet were on the mattress, then looked around again.
The room was very small and quite plain, the only touch of luxury being the big stuffed wing chair by the fireplace that was covered in deep maroon velvet and was quite out of character with the rest of the chamber. There was a rough wooden table, two chairs, a tall cupboard for hanging clothes, and that was all. There was not even a picture on the wall.If this is a lady’s boudoir,he thought,it is a very humble one.
“Where the hell am I?” he said irritably, sat up, then fell back on the pillow as his head began to thump and the room started to spin around him.
Abruptly, the door to the room swung open and a young woman walked in, carrying a bowl of hot water and a towel. When she saw him, she squealed and almost dropped the bowl in fright. “Y-Ye are awake!” she cried, and then managed to set the bowl down on a table without spilling the contents.
As he watched her coming toward him, he could not help noticing that she was completely feminine in every way.
At some point during his sleep, he had dreamt of a tall woman with wide shoulders and an almost masculine body who had washed him. However, this woman was quite the opposite. She was quite simply beautiful, with elfin features, brown hair that flowed down to her waist, and the biggest, darkest green eyes he had ever seen.
As well as that, the shape of her body was generously curved and cried out to the male animal within him. Despite his injury, the animal would not be tamed.
“How are ye feelin’?” she asked in a soft voice that was full of genuine concern. She pulled the blanket aside and looked at his wound, then smiled. “Ye are healin’ quite nicely. Can ye remember what happened?”
