The Stench of Blood #3
The men watched her go with varying degrees of contempt, and harboring not the least was the Montgomery earl.
Ignoring Sorcha outright, the man clapped Alec on the back.
“Aye then, lad, come with me now and explain the message ye sent,” he suggested, acting as if nothing had transpired between them.
Alec nodded. “I will, but I would speak with Sorcha first.”
His brother’s lips tightened in displeasure at his answer, but turning instead to the others, he waved them all into the tower house, promising food and drink, and set off without a backwards glance.
As they left, Gellie dipped a curtsey at Alec. “I thank ye, my lord,” she said, heaving a sigh of relief. “If ye hadna intervened, I’m sure I would have seen the end of a whip this day.”
“Aye,” Alec said, acknowledging both her words and thanks with a dip of his chin.
“Then I’m off to the laundry,” the dark-haired lass said. She withdrew hastily, but not before sending Sorcha a sly wink.
The moment she’d left, Sorcha turned to Alec. “Ye must think me a lying fool,” she began, unable to meet his gaze. Ach, what had she done? Her cheeks flushed in shame. Aye, she’d called him her lover. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to recall any more. “I only sought safe passage—”
He checked her with a laugh. “’Twas fair enjoyable,” he vowed. “And I find ye a charming lass.”
“I’m not accustomed to lie so boldly—” she persevered, still unable to look at him.
Again, he interrupted, this time with a heartier laugh. “But ye spoke the truth, lass. Alec of Lainshaw is fair enamored with ye, and I’d say that he most certainly is one to protect those in his care.”
Stunned at his good humor, she did glance up then.
His eyes caught and held hers, and he stepped closer. He was so tall. The top of her head didn’t even reach his chin.
“Keep away from Margaret,” he warned, dropping his voice low. “She has revenge brewing inside her. And my brother, ach, ye must forgive him,” he said, clearly bothered by the man’s behavior. “He suffers with the responsibility and lands. ‘Twas only I who inherited the charming qualities, aye?”
She wanted to smile at his light-heartedness.
Aye, he was a charmer and hard to resist. But he was the brother of an earl, and one in her position could hardly return his tease.
Stepping back, she dropped a curtsey. “I can only thank ye for your kindness in defending a Cunningham, my lord,” she said. “I must go.”
He let her take only a few steps away before moving to block her path. Sliding a finger along her jawline, he tilted her chin up. “I do recall ye promising a reward for the safe journey, aye?” he quipped, dipping his voice in a suggestive tone. “A handsome reward it was to be, was it not?”
She blushed, a flaming scarlet under the heat of his touch and tried to turn away, but he was adept at twisting her into his arms and pinning her in his embrace. Cupping her jaw in his palm, he gently tilted her face towards his once again.
“I’ll be taking that reward now, lass,” he said, exploring her eyes with his own.
Sorcha swallowed. A tingle raced down her spine as his face moved closer. She closed her eyes, torn between the desire to run and the desire to stay.
The slightest touch of a kiss brushed across her forehead.
Her eyes flew open.
Releasing her, he stepped back. “Alec of Lainshaw’s no gentleman,” he said, almost bitterly. “Most certainly, ye canna trust his fickle heart, lass. Heed me well and shun the man, aye?”
He bowed then, as one bows to a lady, and straightening his plaid, strode away.
She almost ran after him. Aye, in spite of the fact he was a Montgomery and her mother would be horrified … she almost ran after the man.
The clip-clop of horses’ hooves goaded Sorcha into action, and as a small party of Montgomerys trotted into the courtyard, she picked up her skirts and ran towards the long, low building after Gellie.
Lainshaw.
She’d finally made it. But soon, would she be leaving? There was no love between Lady Margaret and her Montgomery earl. That much was plain for all to see. And Hugh? Had he arrived already to free his sister? The thought darkened her mood. They’d take her away from Lainshaw then … from Alec.
“Ach, Sorcha,” she chided herself, shaking her head.
She had no business thinking of Alec Montgomery.
Attempting to clear her mind of him, but failing miserably, she stepped over the threshold just as a stout maid plowed right into her, nearly knocking them both off their feet.
The woman offered a heartfelt, hasty apology, and after exchanging brief introductions, pointed behind the castle.
“Laundry? Aye, ‘tis washing day. They’re out in the river yonder,” she said with a cheerful smile and then added a little shyly, “’Tis pleasant to have another Cunningham here now, there’s nae enough of us in this place. ”
Bobbing a warm smile in response, Sorcha promised to meet her later for a friendly chat and hastened around the corner of the building.
But when she lifted her eyes to the scene spread out before her, she froze in horror.
There was no doubt.
The winding river. The grass so unusually green. The leaves, the yellow leaves swirling through the air.
It was the river of her dream.