Chapter Eight #2
MacVay paused, frowning. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"
"This is Lady Camille Bouchard."
Camille shot Dugald a questioning glance as MacVay took her hand and kissed the back. Aye, he knew her title was not lady, but she would be treated better if everyone here thought she was. Besides, she no doubt lived like a lady since her cousin was a countess.
"Enchanté, monsieur."
"A pleasure to meet you, madame. And how did you come upon a French lady, MacKerrick?" MacVay's gaze snapped to him.
"She… happened to be traveling south, going home and…
we offered to escort her since we were going in the same direction.
" He was glad to think up the excuse quickly.
He sure as hell couldn't tell the man he'd taken her hostage by mistake.
Also, he didn't want the man to think any less of Camille, a woman traveling alone with several men.
"Do you have a spare chamber for the lady?" Dugald asked.
"Of course." MacVay motioned to a middle-aged woman in a plaid arisaid who appeared to be the housekeeper. "Take the lady to a room and see she is well cared for."
"Aye, m'laird."
As she was led away, Camille glanced back at him. He could not interpret her expression. Longing? Annoyance? Of course, he wished he could spend the night with her but that was impossible.
MacVay motioned him closer to the fireplace and poured him a small glass of whisky.
"I thank you." The heat from the fire felt good against his wet skin and the whisky warmed his veins.
"My daughter will be glad you've dropped in for a visit," MacVay said.
"Ah. Well, 'twas completely unexpected." Dugald did not wish to see Lady Sarah but he knew he could not avoid it at this point. He sipped the fiery whisky, hoping it would make their second meeting less tedious than their first had been.
"Have you given any more thought to the arrangements we discussed a few months ago?"
Dugald hesitated, knowing full well the man meant the marriage arrangements. "Aye, but I've not yet decided."
MacVay lifted a brow. "Another laird with a lovely daughter has contacted you, then?" he inquired.
"To be honest… aye. I am weighing all my options."
"Well, you are a lucky man, indeed," MacVay said dryly, irritation coloring his tone. "Sarah is a beautiful young lady, nearing twenty summers. If you are truly not interested, then I need to be searching elsewhere for a husband for her."
Did the man expect him to make a decision, spur of the moment?
He did not like to be challenged or put on the spot.
The MacVay clan was smaller than his own, but the lass possessed a rich dowry, including valuable crofting land.
He was still undecided whether the land he would gain would be worth a lifetime commitment to a lass who did not truly hold his attention.
He thought of Camille and how one simple glance or touch from her sent excitement storming through his veins.
She stirred his lusts and his passion as no other woman ever had.
Of a certainty, he'd had trysts before, but never with a woman who captured his interest so profoundly.
"MacKerrick?" MacVay prompted, and Dugald realized he'd been wool-gathering.
"Do what you must." Dugald sipped the whisky.
MacVay narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything more, Lady Sarah approached, wearing a fancy green silken gown, the latest fashion from France, without doubt.
She must have donned her best when she heard he'd arrived.
She was indeed lovely with dark hair and dark brown eyes, but strangely, she appealed to Dugald even less than the last time he'd seen her. Damnation, he was a lost cause.
"Laird MacKerrick." She curtsied.
"Lady Sarah." Taking her hand, he bowed and kissed the back.
A sudden blush bloomed over her pale skin. "I'm so glad to see you again," she said in a soft voice.
Saints, he did not like the way her interested gaze lingered on him. She had been meeker the last time he'd seen her. A shy violet. Although he liked bold ladies, he did not want Sarah to be too boldly interested in him. He didn't wish to break her heart or turn her father into an enemy.
"I was but traveling through when the unrelenting rains drove us to beg shelter from your generous father."
MacVay gave a tight smile. "You're always most welcome here. I'll let you two get reacquainted." He stepped away.
Dugald did not want to get reacquainted. He but wanted to chase Camille's skirts up the stairs, bar the door of whichever room she was in and ravish her.
"Is something amiss, m'laird?" Sarah asked, fluttering her dark lashes.
The coquettish move only annoyed him. Why, he could not say, except that when Camille gave him such obvious and flirtatious glances, she did it intentionally to rile him, and to get a rise out of him… which always worked.
"Nay. I'm a bit distracted. One of my clansmen has been arrested in Perth and I must go bail him out as soon as possible."
Her mouth dropped open. "Arrested? What on earth for?"
"'Tis a long story, not fit for a lady's ears." Glancing around, he noticed everyone gathering for the meal. "Ah, it appears supper is about to be served."
She nodded. He had no choice but to offer his arm and escort her to the high table. Once there, he helped her get seated. When he turned, he almost collided with Camille.
"Ah, Lady Camille," he murmured, heat and awareness rushing over him.
"Lady Bouchard," she corrected in a whisper, her sensual lips unmoving.
"Indeed."
She must have decided to play the role of a married woman or a widow. A good idea.
As he helped her into a chair, he noticed she had changed into dry clothing. His had only dried a bit by the fire. Taking the chair beside hers, he discovered himself in a hellish spot, seated between Camille and Sarah.