Chapter 24
Chapter 24
With an eye toward moving forward with his plans, Lachann took a ride up to Roscraig Peak, the cliff that rose above the village and overlooked the harbor. He was not exactly avoiding his return to the keep, but he knew ’twas best if he did not see Anna MacIver for a while. He needed to put some distance between them.
He had to stop reliving the moments before he’d heard the gunfire, when she’d come apart, just from his touch. Lachann had been seconds away from paradise when Macauley’s gunshots had interrupted him.
He should be thanking the bastard for his timing.
Lachann chose a spot where he would station a lookout, then located the best place to perch a cannon. There was a clear view from there to the castle, and a good place to ignite a signal fire if an enemy approached from the harbor.
The sea was quiet, and Lachann saw Kilgorra’s fishermen anchored far in the distance.
Then he saw Anna walking on the beach west of the village.
He knew it could only be she, for he’d seen no other woman on the isle with such pale hair. And the thick plait down her back swayed in time with her purposeful stride. Lachann’s entire body quaked at the sight of her.
He forced himself to look away. What he might desire and where his duty lay were two entirely different things. He thought of Duncan’s earlier query about Catrìona and knew he needed to work on a strategy for gaining the lairdship without marrying the woman.
He could not tolerate a life shackled to that woman.
He’d already offered his gold to shore up Kilgorra’s defenses, and he hoped ’twould be enough. But Macauley was not without resources. His own wealth, along with marriage to the laird’s daughter, could be persuasive to a drunken old man.
Gesu. It had all become far more complicated than it ever should have been. Lachann hoped the Cameron brothers returned from Skye with some useful information about Macauley. Soon.
Drawn to Anna in spite of himself, Lachann rode back to the village and stepped off the pier, retracing the path he’d taken yesterday. He could not help but wonder what she was doing on that isolated stretch of beach.
Gesu,was she making her way to the caves further south, where Birk Ramsay’s father had said he would be? By the determination in her step, Lachann feared she was about to go after him alone.
With the dirk he’d strapped to her leg.
He rode down the beach, quickly catching up to her. He jumped down from his horse to walk beside her and managed to speak calmly to her. “Anna. I hope you are not on your way to look for Birk Ramsay.”
She looked surprised. “You know the man is a menace.”
“ ’Twould not be wise for you to confront him alone.”
“I realize that,” she said, resuming her quick pace down the sandy beach. “But someone needs to!”
The thought of her doing it filled him with dread. “Anna, he is dangerous.”
“Aye.” With her expression set, she resumed walking.
He took hold of her arm and stopped her. “What if he attacks you? What will you do?”
Her eyes were clear and guileless, and her mouth was a temptation he found difficult to resist. He drew her close.
“I’m not going for Birk,” she said, but he hardly heard the words, not when his body was demanding that he lift her into his arms and carry her to some secluded spot and remind himself just exactly how delectable those plump lips were.
She breathed deeply, and his arousal grew to impossible proportions when her chest moved against his. He wanted her, wanted to explore every sweet inch of her.
He tipped his head, determined to savor at least one kiss, when she suddenly tugged away.
“Sorcha,” she called out, the name wrenching Lachann out of his sensual haze.
She slipped out of his grasp and turned toward an old woman he’d not noticed before, not when ’twas Anna who’d held his complete attention.
The crooked old woman was walking toward them from one of the caves, a large basket hanging from her arm. She seemed to be in her own world, walking toward the surf, bending every now and then to pick up something and place it carefully in her basket.
Somehow, Anna managed to make herself step away from Lachann, but her breath felt tight in her chest and a heated flush of pure sensation flowed through her veins. She did not know how she succeeded in speaking to the old midwife, Sorcha Carnegie, while Lachann still had his hand on her.
This white-hot attraction that flared between them must not continue. She would not be able to bear it later, when...
She swallowed back her unwise yearnings and looked up at him. His jaw was tightly clenched.
“I ... I must go,” she said.
For an instant, she thought he might protest, but then he gave a brusque nod of his head and moved away. He mounted his horse but did not take off for the pier right away.
“Anna ...”
She felt the intensity of his gaze through her entire body, pooling in the womanly heart of her—right where he’d touched her and created a maelstrom of sensation.
She let out a shaky breath and turned to Sorcha. Because she knew better than to dwell upon what could never be.
She hurried away from Lachann, toward the old woman who was walking alone down the beach, bending periodically to collect a shiny shell from the sand and put it into her basket.
Sorcha had attended Anna’s mother at the fatal birthing of her bairn, Laird MacDuffie’s son. These days, the woman often lost her way, and ’twas feared she might one day walk into the sea—and not return. Somehow, she’d gotten past her niece who usually kept an eye on her.
“Sorcha!” Anna called again.
The woman straightened up and looked back at Anna. She smiled broadly. “Anna? ’Tis a joy t’ see ye, lass!”
“Aye, and you,” Anna replied. “It looks as though your basket is full, Sorcha. I think ’tis time to go home. Màili will be worried about you.”
“Màili? Nay, she’s workin’ at her loom. She will no’ miss me.”
Ah, but she would. Anna took the old woman’s arm and started walking up toward the pier. Toward Lachann, whose retreating figure was not so very far away.
Anna’s chest ached. Her resolve faltered, and for a moment, she entertained the impossible wish that everything could be different. That Sorcha had not been there on the beach, that she had taken Lachann to Spirit Isle, where they could be alone to—
“Is that yer man, Anna lass?”
“What?” Anna’s face infused with an impossible heat.
“Yer husband.” The old woman took hold of Anna’s arm. She had a surprisingly strong grip.
“No, Sorcha. I have no husband, and I ... I do not plan to marry.”
“Ach, then, a lover,” Sorcha said, embarrassing Anna even more. “Ye must take a man t’ yer bed—”
“I do not think that would be wise—”
“Blatherskite,” she retorted. “Wisdom plays no part in what takes place betwixt a woman and her man.”
Anna nearly choked, for ’twas absolutely true. What had happened in Gudrun’s cottage between her and Lachann had not been the least bit wise. “Sorcha, I’m sure you’re right. But I—”
“What are ye afeared of, lass? Gettin’ a bairn?”
Anna felt mortified by the conversation. Luckily, Lachann was too far away to hear what Sorcha was saying. ’Twould only magnify her embarrassment at such talk. “Please, Sorcha, you must not speak of such things.”
“And why ever not?” the midwife demanded. “I might ferget a wee task now and again, but I remember every bairn I brought into this world. And I know a thing or two about keepin’ one from startin’,” she added with a wink. “How d’ye think Catrìona MacDuffie has gotten by all these years without one?”
As Lachann returned to the pier, he wondered why naught could ever be as simple as planned.
He did not like leaving Anna on the beach when he knew Birk Ramsay could be nearby, but he didn’t really believe Ramsay would come out of his lair and attack her. He was likely so hungover he could barely walk.
Besides, Anna had an old woman to deal with, and he knew she would not just abandon her. Not his fair Anna. She was so much a part of this island that he found her desire to leave impossible to understand.
He rode up onto the pier, where all roads seemed to meet on Kilgorra, and saw Catrìona coming down the path from the castle. She was alone, and not paying much attention to her surroundings.
But at least Macauley was not with her. Lachann wondered what new mischief he was up to.
Catrìona stopped abruptly when she saw him. “Lachann! You ... you are just the man I wanted to see.” She looked past him and up at the ship, causing Lachann to believe otherwise. He wondered what business she had with the Saoibhreas.
“Aye?” he said, dismounting. “You thought you would find me here on the beach?”
“Of course not,” she responded. “But you were not up at the castle with your men, so I thought possibly ...”
“You grew bored with Macauley?”
“You must forgive him, Lachann. He did not think.”
“Mayhap,” Lachann replied. “But if you believe that’s a fair excuse for a man who thinks he ought to be laird—”
“Well, he does want to marry me.”
She said it as though a proposal from Macauley was the greatest honor that could have been bestowed.
If Lachann had had any doubts about taking Catrìona to wife, the answer to that question became clear at that moment. But he was not going to tip his hand just yet. He would say naught of the matter until he discussed it with Duncan and Kieran. There had to be a way to wrest control of the island without marrying MacDuffie’s daughter.
The first order of business would be to get rid of Macauley. He would attempt to do it peacefully. But if the stoat would not leave, then Lachann would deal with him in whatever manner was most expedient.
’Twould be greatly satisfying to tie him to one of the small boats, tow him out to the open sea without a paddle, and leave him there. In a storm.
Catrìona put her hand through the crook of Lachann’s arm, but she stopped suddenly when Anna and her elderly companion came onto the pier and up into the village. Lachann winced when Anna’s eyes caught sight of Catrìona’s arm in his. He felt like pushing Catrìona aside and following Anna to the village.
But circumstances did not allow it. Not yet. He turned his attention to Catrìona. “Where is Macauley now?”
“I have no idea, Lachann.” She turned a bright smile upon him. “But I do know the bonniest point of all Kilgorra. I’d like to show it to you.”
“Mayhap some other time, Catrìona.” Lachann disentangled himself from her grasp. “I still have much to do this morn.”
“Are you saying—”
“I will see you later, at the castle,” he said. He took his leave of her, leading his horse up the path to the public house. He wondered which direction Anna had taken, for she was nowhere in sight.
He passed numerous shops as he rode through the village, and soon he came to a cobbled street that was lined with modest stone dwellings, all bordered by a low, stone wall. Some had small gardens in front, and there were pots full of colorful flowers on the wall. At the top of the lane, Lachann saw Anna standing with the old woman she’d met on the beach, talking with yet a third woman.
Her smile was stunning, as was her regal stance. She was gracious and sweet, and at the same time so very sensual that every muscle in his body clenched tightly as he observed her.
All three women were laughing and enjoying the swift breeze and early afternoon sun. Anna smiled and looked up at the sky as if she hadn’t a care in the world, though when she caught sight of Lachann, she blushed to the roots of her hair. Just the sight of her charming dimple high up on her cheek was enough to make him as hard as the stone wall that edged the lane.
He blew out a long breath, reminding himself that he needed to tread carefully, at least until matters with MacDuffie were settled.
He dismounted and walked up to the group.
“Ach now, are ye no’ the braw lad?” the old woman said in greeting.
Anna blushed to an even deeper red, but she collected herself and made the introductions. “Lachann, these are my friends, Sorcha Carnegie and Màili Carnegie, cousin to Janet, whom you’ve met.”
“We’ve all heard of yer wee clash wi’ Birk Ramsay,” Màili said. “Has he come lookin’ fer ye yet?”
“Ach,” Sorcha scoffed, looking up at him with canny gray eyes. “Birk has no’ the wits God gave a sparrow. He’s no match fer the likes o’ ye.”
“Sorcha—”
“Anna,” Sorcha said, turning to the object of Lachann’s interest, “ye would do well to take this one t’ yer bed and see what kind of braw sons he can give ye.”