Chapter 5
5
Once more, Alyth found herself standing looking into Lachlan Carrick’s fierce blue-green eyes as he stood staring down at her as if he wanted to bore a hole in her forehead. She swallowed nervously, but raised her head and held his gaze. She would not let him see how much he frightened her.
Alyth had to tilt her head back to see him properly, since he was so much taller than she was, and this made her angry because she was so small and felt inadequate. Was this how a man was supposed to make a woman respond to him?
No, she decided. He was using his height and strength against her to intimidate her; those were the tactics of a bully, and she had no time for people like that—of either sex. Men used their fists, but more often than not women used words, and they could be as cruel as whiplashes.
However, she was not dealing with a woman now, but with the biggest and most fearsome man she had ever seen—and she hated him. But did she? When she had seen this big, hulking man treating his daughter with such love and tenderness, she realised that no one was altogether bad, not even him.
Alyth waited for him to say something, but he seemed to be content to stand and let the atmosphere around them thicken with tension. He was standing only a few feet away from her, and she could smell the peculiar, masculine scent of his body, a mix of leather, earth, and an underlying musk that was all his own.
Despite her dislike of him, the smell aroused sensations in Alyth that she had never felt before. She was not ignorant; she had heard what happened inside a bedroom before, but had never felt the tingles and pulses she was experiencing now.
Abruptly, he shifted his stance, crossing his arms and planting his feet wider on the floor so that he looked even bigger and more intimidating than he had before.
“What did you say to my daughter?” he asked suddenly, his brows descending in a deep frown.
At this distance, Alyth could hear the deep rumble in his chest as he spoke, and she had to keep reminding herself that this intensely masculine man was her enemy, no matter how handsome he was.
“I was reading her a story,” Alyth answered, puzzled. “You were listening outside. Surely, you heard, M’Laird?”
“Did she speak to you?” he continued, unbothered.
Alyth was surprised to hear the eagerness in his tone. Her answer was obviously very important to him, and for a moment, she thought of saying no, but she could not be so cruel, despite her loathing of him. Later she would think herself weak, but at that moment she answered truthfully.
“She said a few words,” Alyth replied. “She pointed to one of the pictures of a rabbit and said, ‘bunny.’ Then she laughed.” She thought for a moment. “She told me the name of her doll. She calls it Bettie. Those were the only words she said.”
Lachlan was stunned as he reflected that he had not heard Davina speak as many words as that since her mother died three years before. His mind was about to drift back to the day of his wife’s death, but he forced the memory down, unaware that it was showing in the sorrowful expression on his face.
Alyth saw once again the other, vulnerable side of Lachlan Carrick, the one he took great pains to hide from everyone else. In that fleeting moment, all the pain of the last few years became visible, but he quickly hid it as he frowned.
“Davina has not talked to anyone since her mother died, yet she talks to you.” He paused for a moment, and Alyth was silent too, wondering what was going through his mind. “Why? Why are you the only one who can make her speak? What do you do with her?”
“I treat her as I would treat any other little girl,” Alyth replied. “But perhaps she can sense that I relate to her, we have a lot in common. I lost my mother too, and Davina seems to be a sensitive child. She may not be able to express things in words, but she feels and sees, and she can tell you what she needs you to know with her face and her hands. She is very intuitive, M’Laird.”
Alyth paused, then cast her gaze down to the ground before looking into his eyes again, unsure of how her next words would be received. “The other maids tell me I look a lot like your late wife,” she told him. “Perhaps she can see that, and feels more comfortable with me because of it.”
Whatever Alyth had expected, it was not the darkening of his eyes or the thunderous frown he gave her. “Are you comparing yourself to my wife, the woman I loved with all my heart?” He looked as though he might explode with rage.
“No, I merely said I might look like her,” Alyth answered.
Lachlan Carrick leaned forward and put a hand on each of her shoulders, and there was an audible thud as Alyth’s back hit the wall again. Then he put a hand on either side of her so that Alyth was effectively caged in by his big body.
His face was only a few inches away from hers now, and Alyth was terrified; if he knew who she was, he was quite capable of killing her where she stood with his bare hands. Currently, Alyth had no doubt that he would do so without a second thought.
“Listen to me,” he growled. “My wife was one of the best women who ever lived. She was a wonderful mother and wife, and you cannot hold a candle to her. If I hear you comparing yourself to her again I will cut your tongue out then throw you out of the castle to let the wild boars have their way with you. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Alyth replied steadily, refusing to let her voice tremble as she looked into his blue-green eyes. “I understand perfectly, but I cannot compare myself to Davina’s mother, M’Laird, because I never knew her. If we resemble each other, it is by mere chance. If you think I might harm Davina, let me put your mind at rest. Nothing of the sort has ever crossed my mind. I love children, and I hope to have some of my own one day.”
Something in her tone caught Lachlan’s attention. “So you would never harm children.” He paused. “But would you harm anyone else? Me, for example?”
Alyth almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the notion. Yes, she was a fit woman, and well-trained in the skills of fighting, both with and without a weapon, but so was Lachlan Carrick, and he was so much bigger and more muscular than she was.
Alyth bravely held on to his gaze with a great act of willpower. “I am a woman, M’Laird,” she pointed out. “I am much smaller than you are, and I have no skill with weapons. I could insult you, but you give me a means to earn a living, so that would not be a good idea. How could I possibly hurt you?”
Lachlan backed off a little, taking his hands away from the wall. She was right, of course. The only way she could possibly hurt him was through Davina, and somehow, deep inside himself, he knew that she would never do that. And yet, there was a look in her eyes that suggested something else…
“If you were in love with me, I could break your heart,” Alyth said. “But Lairds do not fall in love with maids.”
Lachlan felt anger boil up inside him again; this woman was insufferable. “Do maids fall in love with Lairds, then?” he asked.
Alyth shook her head firmly. “I have no idea about anyone else,” she told him, “but this one,” she thumbed her chest, “definitely will not.”
Lachlan looked into the deep grey eyes staring back at him. He knew he ought to throw her out because of her impudence, but he had to consider Davina. How would she react to having someone else she was fond of ripped away from her? The fact that this woman could make his daughter speak was something he would have found impossible to believe even a few days ago. For that reason, only, Jeannie Dunbar had to stay, but he would keep a close eye on her.
And there was something else. As he stood looking down at her, he felt himself wanting to reach out to her and touch her. He felt a spasm of guilt, but dismissed it. It was only his weak man’s body reacting to a beautiful woman. He stared at her for what seemed like an age, but no matter how fiercely he glared at her, she would not look away from him, but held his gaze with a steady one of her own.
At last, with an exasperated sigh, he turned away. Alyth’s gaze followed him, and when he was out of sight she sank onto the floor, exhausted by the mental battle she had just fought with him.
Yet, she had to find her mother’s pendant—she could not return home without it, and for that reason, she would have to endure Lachlan Carrick’s loathsome company for as long as it took.
Alyth stood up, sighed and stretched her back. She would not worry or brood, she decided. She would try to keep out of the Laird’s sight and go about her mission as unobtrusively as she could.
However, the pressure of pretending to be someone she was not, and knowing that she was being constantly kept under surveillance by the Laird and his men, was becoming unbearable. Even being with Davina was something of a strain, since she had to keep smiling continually.
In fact, she thought, the only time she could ever relax was in bed, even though it was narrow and uncomfortable; at least she could pound her pillows with her fists and pretend they were Lachlan Carrick!
Alyth tried to think of another way of letting off some steam. When she was at home, her best outlet for her over-abundance of energy was training with the guards, but of course, that was impossible in Leithmuir.
She sighed. How much longer could she live like this?
Lachlan was smiling as he gazed at Davina, who was sitting in the garden playing with her doll. He felt more hopeful than he had in a long time as he watched her; she was his whole world, and without her, he knew his life would not be worth living.
Davina looked up as her nanny, who had just come back from her visit to her family, went to sit beside her. She gave her a vague smile, but when the woman tried to engage her in conversation, Davina picked up her doll and strolled away further into the gardens. She walked around looking at the stalks of the plants that had just been cut back for winter, and Lachlan watched as one of the gardeners gave her a chestnut. She smiled at him and walked on.
They saw Jeannie at the same moment, and Davina ran towards her, beaming all over her face. When the little girl reached her, she threw her arms around the woman and held up the chestnut to show her. Lachlan watched as Jeannie took it and admired it, then made to give it back, but Davina pointed to the nut, then to Jeannie’s mouth.
“For me?” Alyth asked. Davina nodded, still smiling. “Thank you!” Alyth had been intending to drop a kiss on Davina’s forehead, but refrained when she saw the Laird looking at them. “I have work to do,” she said, with a little wave.
However, Davina was not yet ready to let her go. She grabbed the skirt of Alyth’s dress and pulled as hard as she could, frowning fiercely.
Alyth had no idea what to do. She could not abandon her work, but neither could she reprimand Davina in front of the Laird and everyone else; they were attracting enough attention as it was.
She was saved by Davina’s nurse, Martha, who was obviously used to dealing with stubborn children and had a lot of experience with Davina in particular. She picked the girl up and carried her for a few steps, then put her down and led her away. Davina looked furious, and she stared over her shoulder at her friend for a while before turning a corner, leaving her line of sight.
Alyth breathed a sigh of relief. She had been sweeping up some earth and foliage from the paths between the vegetable patches and trying not to look at the Laird, whom she knew was only a few yards away. There was no way she could escape from his view now, though, she thought ruefully. She watched him approaching her, then he stopped in front of her. Alyth began to tremble inside. So much for trying to stay inconspicuous!
Everyone around them was watching, even though they were trying to make it appear as if they were not. Once more, Alyth found herself trapped in the gaze of his cold eyes, and once more she was helpless. She stood up.
“M’Laird?” she said, giving him a brief curtsey.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
Alyth did as she was told and followed him. It was some distance to the castle itself, since the gardens were extensive, and it took them some time to reach the courtyard.
Lachlan did not go any further, but turned to her, and Alyth thought that standing talking to him this way was becoming a little tedious. It was the third time he had summoned her this way; she only hoped that he would not threaten her the way he had before.
“Did she speak to you?” he asked.
Alyth shook her head. “Not this time,” she replied. “But there were a lot of people watching us, M’Laird. She has only done so before when we were alone, or you were with us.”
Lachlan nodded thoughtfully as he looked down at her, thinking how fascinating her deep grey eyes were. No matter how he tried to stop himself, he could not help thinking of Davina’s mother when he looked at her.
“I want her to learn to talk again,” he said gently, and as he dropped his gaze down to his hands,
Alyth saw him letting his guard down for the first time since she had known him. He was holding a red silk ribbon, running it through his fingers tenderly, before he realised that he was giving away some soft emotion that he usually kept hidden.
Alyth thought that the ribbon must have belonged to his wife, but of course, she could not ask him.
“I would like you to spend more time with her,” he went on. “Read her a story at night when she goes to sleep. I think she will like that.”
“But she has someone to do that already,” Alyth pointed out.
“Martha will still carry out her usual duties,” Lachlan replied, “but her reading skills are not the best, and as far as I know, Davina has never said a word to her. I would like you to take over the duty of reading to her.”
For the first time, Alyth felt that it was safe to smile at him. “It will not be a duty, M’Laird,” she said happily. “It will be a pleasure.”