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“Aye, but I shall think of you as Kat.” He offered her his hand.
The rustle of coarse fabric and the scrape of metal on stone confirmed that someone was, indeed, up and about in the scullery next door. Most of the kitchen skivvies slept there, on the floors, or if they were lucky, on a bench. Only the cook had a proper pallet in a crowded chamber shared with the rest of the more senior servants.
Katherine got to her feet. She did not take his hand, that would be far too familiar, even despite the personal nature of their conversation. She did, though, heed his advice and rush from the kitchen, the earl behind her, just as the door to the scullery creaked open.
Outside, the sudden blast of chilly air took her breath away. She clutched at the plaid still draped over her shoulders. It smelled of heather, and pine, and perhaps of leather, too. She would be sorry to relinquish it, but she tried to hand it back.
“Goodnight, my lord.”
“Goodnight, Kat.” He tugged the tartan around her once more. “Keep this, for now.”
“But—”
“Return it to me tomorrow. I shall be leaving early.”
“Oh. I…I see.” She found herself oddly disappointed to hear that, though it was obvious he would be required elsewhere. He was the laird of his clan. He had duties, responsibilities, pressing matters to attend to. “I shall ensure a hearty breakfast then, to see you on your way.”
He smiled. They had reached the door back into the main hall. “I imagined nothing less, Lady Katherine.” He cradled her face between his hands. “I have enjoyed our time together.”
“So have I,” she admitted, surprising herself.
“In that case…” He lowered his face to within an inch of hers.
Katherine should pull away. She should not permit this. It would be quite inappropriate.
But she did not. Instead, she tipped back her head and raised herself on her toes to brush her lips across his. Robert required no further encouragement. His mouth slanted across hers. He tunnelled his fingers through her unbound hair and moved her back a pace until she leaned against the outer door of the keep. He wrapped one arm about her shoulders and with his spare hand he cradled her jaw and deepened the kiss.
Katherine clutched at his shoulders, curling her fingers in the soft leather of his tunic. Then, she permitted herself the pleasure of running her fingers through his hair. It was soft, thick and heavy, like silk against her hands. Just as she had imagined…
“I must go,” she gasped when he finally released her mouth. “The servants…”
“Aye,” he replied. “I ken that.” He kissed her once more, on the forehead this time. “Sleep well, little Kat. I shall not forget ye.”
CHAPTERSIX
Stephen and Flora’s seats remained vacant whilst the rest of the household took breakfast in the hall. It did not require much in the way of imagination to divine the reason for their tardiness. It galled Robbie that they shared a chamber and were not yet wed, nor even formally betrothed as far as he was concerned, but he was a man accustomed to choosing his battles with care. He had weightier matters to resolve this morning.
He gritted his teeth and returned the greeting cordially enough when his host did, eventually, grace the table with his presence and bade his guests a good morning. Flora, looking somewhat flushed, took her seat beside Stephen and opposite Robbie’s own place. It did not escape his notice that she sought the marquis’s hand with hers as though seeking his support. Or maybe she offered it.
Katherine was also seated on the opposite side of the table and had spent the last half hour taking the utmost care not to meet his gaze. Robbie forced the issue by thanking her for her hospitality and complimenting her on her management of the household. He was rewarded by the briefest of glances, a pinkening of her cheeks, and a muttered ‘thank you’.
It would do. For now.
He decided it was time to address the main issue at hand. Robbie helped himself to a hunk of bread, sliced a piece of cheese, then announced that he would be leaving for Roxburghe that same day.
Flora protested, as he had expected she would. In truth, he would have liked to stay a bit longer, if only to irritate Stephen of Elborne, but he had much to deal with back at Roxburghe. The chaos wrought by Angus’ brief time in control must be set to rights.
“My priority is to see my own house in order, starting with your marriage, wee Flora.”
Hope and, Robbie fancied, more than a little apprehension sparkled in Flora’s eyes. For his own part, the marquis remained silent.
Robbie continued. “The prospect of a truce is not unappealing…”
Flora sprang to her feet, her hands clasped in excitement. “Then, you will approve of my marriage?”
Robbie considered that to be something of an overstatement, but he nodded slowly. “Aye. I will permit it to go ahead. But I have some conditions of my own.”
The marquis’s eyes remained guarded. He was proving to be a steely negotiator, Robbie decided, a quality he could not help but admire. The man would make a better ally than an enemy, but it was yet to be seen if that might be achieved.
