Lady of Two Lairds

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Late that night, Ian paced his room like a caged animal. He’d given up trying to sleep about forty minutes earlier when he realized he needed to try and heal the fast-developing rift between the two most important people in his life.

Poor Leda. The look of suffering in her eyes was unbearable. Caity had been a dear friend to her, and he couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Leda to bear a moment’s blame for her death. This morning, when he’d pulled up to the house and seen her, a surge of protectiveness like he’d never felt before had overwhelmed him.

When he’d gone into Duncan’s study and seen the condition he was in and the words of blame he’d used toward Leda, he’d understood why.

Yes, Duncan was grieving and grief could affect a person’s mind and heart in certain ways, make them feel hatred that wouldn’t normally exist. But the thought of Duncan hating Leda made Ian panic. Having Duncan and Leda here together had always provided a touchstone, a safe haven for him all the years he’d spent in boarding school, and now at Oxford. A peaceful home with the people he loved in it had made the years of being away so much bearable. All these years, he’d even dared to think that he could one day come back here and live with them, even when he married. Hatred could tear them apart.

The panic rose and intensified. Earlier in the evening, he’d resolved to wait a few days to speak to Duncan, to see if he regained some rationality. But he couldn’t wait.

Ian snatched his robe from where it was slung over a chair, shrugged into it, and left the room for his brother’s study.

* * * * *

Leda tossed and turned in her bed. She dreaded the prospect of falling asleep and battled with her desire to run to Ian for comfort. Since Cait had died, she’d either had nightmares of Cait’s screams and the stillborn child, or she’d dreamed of Duncan. Either way, she dreaded the unconscious state. With Ian here, she felt she had somewhere to turn with her fears.

The bit of affection Ian had given her had only made her hunger for more, and she found herself wishing he would come to her room and hold her. He had comforted her and helped her to feel less like a monster. The need overwhelmed her after the last few days of emotional torment.

She spent another few tortured moments debating whether to awaken him. He’d traveled all the way from Italy on a moment’s notice to be here on time for the funeral.

Perhaps he would not want her pestering him in the middle of the night.

Finally, she decided to just see if he was awake. She’d just peek under the door. If a light was on, she’d knock. Otherwise, she’d go back to her room.

She rose, put on her wrap and slippers, and slipped out of her bedroom.

The large hallway sat in dark silence. She padded along the plush oriental runner, crossing the open part of the hall that led into the main stairway to the wing where Duncan’s and Ian’s bedrooms were.

She stopped by Ian’s door, her hand poised to knock, when she noticed the door was slightly open. Her body tense, she listened. The room was dark and very quiet. She listened for the sound of his breathing. Her heart quickened. She knew it was improper for her to be here. Her conscience told her to go back to her room and wait until morning to see him. But she couldn’t wait. With a trembling hand, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

Allowing her eyes to accustom themselves to the shadows, she saw the outline of the four-poster bed in the pale moonlight that filtered through the large, curtained window. She moved a bit closer, listening carefully for any sounds.

She stopped at the edge of the bed and looked at the rumpled bedding. He wasn’t there.

He must not have been able to sleep, either. The desire to find him overwhelmed her, propelling her from the room, back out into the hallway and down the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she stood listening in the hushed shadows.

In moments, the sound of voices carried to her through the air and she walked softly in that direction. It led her to the door of Duncan’s study, which was slightly open, a wedge of lamplight spilling into the hall. Her heart lurched and disappointment overwhelmed her.

There would be no chance to see Ian as long as he was with Duncan. Leaning her weight against the wall, she sighed. A sense of foreboding told her to turn back, but she couldn’t bring herself to go away. She was drawn to the door, where she stood listening for Ian’s voice, feeling safer and comforted just to be near him.

She stood off to the side, her back pressed to the wall, straining to hear every word, although she knew she shouldn’t be. Ian’s and Duncan’s voices carried into the hall. Her blood ran cold when she heard her name.

“You must stop blaming her, Duncan,” Ian said.

Her heartbeat began to race and she listened, riveted.

“This is none of your business.” Duncan’s voice was a low growl and Leda detected a slur in his speech. He had been drinking.

“You know as well as I do that Cait’s health was bad. The doctor in Edinburgh told you the risk of trying to have a child.”

Duncan’s voice rose. “I told you to mind your own business.”

“She’s a good soul, sweet and kind. You know she’s not at fault.”

“I don’t know she’s not at fault, Ian.”

“Yes, you do. This is your grief speaking. You need to tell her.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Leda’s breathing felt suddenly constricted and she broke into a sweat in spite of the chill in the air.

“Her mother cared for our father, and Leda cared for Caitlynn. What are you going to do, banish her to the Orkneys where she came from?”

“Of course not,” Duncan growled. “She’s a MacGregor. I don’t abandon my own.”

“The way you’re treating her is abandonment. You owe her more than this.”

Duncan did not respond.

“The crofters love her,” Ian continued when Duncan remained silent. “She’s cared for every one of them when they’ve gotten sick. God knows, she’s helped make your relations with them a hell of a lot easier.”

“Let’s see how they feel about her when she lets one of their own die in childbirth.”

She cried out involuntarily at Duncan’s words, drowning Ian’s response. She flew away from the door, not knowing where she was headed until she found herself in the dark kitchen. She bumped into the large oak worktable in front of the hearth and doubled over, wracked by sobs. Duncan’s last statement rang in her mind. She clutched at her mouth to prevent herself from wailing and rousing everyone in the house.

Suddenly, the electric lights went on. She looked up. Through her blur of tears she saw Ian in the doorway. He was in his pajamas and robe.

Without hesitation, he strode over and pulled her into his arms. Leda fell against him, burying her face against the soft material of his robe. “There, there,” he crooned, stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry!” Leda choked out between sobs, clutching fistfuls of Ian’s sleeves. “Oh, God, forgive me.” Ian’s arms tightened around her, holding her close. She felt his lips press tenderly into her hair.

“It’ll be all right, little swan,” he murmured against her hair. “Just let it out.”

Leda clung to him, shaking and sobbing until she had no tears left.

When she had calmed, Ian held her gently away from him. His lips tugged into a small grin. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop, Leda,” he said, with a hint of humor. He brushed her tears away with his thumb, then reached into his robe pocket. “Here,” he said, holding out a handkerchief. “It’s clean.”

“Thank you.” Leda accepted the cloth and wiped her eyes. “I…I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was looking for you.”

“Ah, I see.” Ian gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Well, you found me.” He grinned again.

“Come up here and sit.” He lifted her so that she sat on the edge of the large table.

“I miss Cait, Ian.” She sniffled, pressing the handkerchief to her nose.

“So do I.” Ian gently rubbed her arms. “She was special.”

“If only I—”

Ian squeezed her shoulders, cutting her off. “There are no ‘if onlys,’ Leda.” His voice was firm. “You did all you could. Her health was poor. You know that, don’t you?”

Reluctantly, she nodded, surprised at the dark, serious way he regarded her.

“Aye,” she murmured. “I just wish Duncan didn’t hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s grief-stricken. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

His words brought a ray of hope. “You don’t think I should leave?”

To her surprise, a look of fear clouded his eyes. “Absolutely not! Don’t you dare leave.”

He brushed his thumbs back and forth across her shoulders. “Glenparry would not be home without you here, Leda. At least not for me.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me.” The darkness left his face, replaced by a gentle smile. “I still remember that day you and your mum arrived here from Orkney. Father was so ill, and Duncan was his usual brooding self. You were like a ray of light in this place.” He gazed at her for several heartbeats. “Being at school was always difficult and often lonely. But coming back here was hard, too. I began to feel I actually had a home here because of you.”

Ian’s confession brought fresh tears. She had always known he was fond of her, but she had never known how very much her being here had meant to him. She had always thought she was the only one who felt that way. “Ian, thank you.” She reached out and embraced him.

Ian squeezed her. “You’re welcome, little swan. I’m sorry I didn’t say all this to you before.”

Leda sighed deeply, snuggling against him, her hands splayed across Ian’s back.

Suddenly, her contentment was replaced by the acute awareness of hard muscles underneath her touch. A flush spread on her cheeks and throat, and her breathing grew slightly husky.

His touch weakened her. Sudden spirals of heat coursed through her, whispering into her breasts and down below, into her s*x. She stilled, her hands resting on his back, which now rose and fell more heavily, too.

To her disappointment, Ian slowly disengaged from the embrace. The golden hue of his irises had darkened and his lids were heavy. He moved away slightly and cleared his throat.

His customary mischievous grin came to his lips, although it seemed forced, and his eyes looked troubled. “Does Fanny still have her stash?”

It took her a moment for his question to register through her haze. She pulled her wrap more tightly around her, wondering if she’d imagined the tension of the previous moment. A fleeting memory of the time she and Ian had found the whiskey bottle years ago while playing hide and seek in the kitchen made her smile. “I don’t know.”

Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Wait here.” He disappeared into the butler’s pantry where Leda heard him opening cupboard doors. He reappeared in a moment, holding up the bottle of golden liquid in a triumphant gesture. “Same place as always.”

His handsome grin spread across his face, causing Leda’s heart to flutter. She watched him go to a cupboard and pull out two glasses, which he set down on the table next to her.

“This’ll warm you right up, Leda.” He opened the bottle and poured a shot into each glass. “Fanny won’t miss a few drops.” He handed her a glass and held his up. “Here’s to better days in the future.”

Leda saw a shadow of sadness darken his face and eyes, but only for a moment.

He grinned and clinked his glass lightly against hers. “Cheers.” He tipped his head back and drained his glass in one swallow.

Gingerly, she took a sip of hers. She had never liked the acrid sting of whiskey and only ever took it medicinally. In spite of her distaste for it, the drink slid through her veins like liquid heat, leaving her body in a slightly languid state.

Ian put his glass down and refilled it. “Come on, Leda. You’re falling behind.” Humor touched his voice.

She smiled and took another tiny sip. Ian downed his second glass and set it back down on the table.

Leda waited to see if he poured another one for himself. Instead, he leaned one hand on the table, standing so close to her that part of her thigh pressed against his hip.

Immediately, she began to tremble and took another sip of her whiskey, a larger one this time.

Ian’s face was level with hers and he gazed at her. His hazel eyes had darkened again as he studied her. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down like that, not since we were bairns,” he said softly. His gaze traveled the length of her braid where it hung down, sloping over her right breast.

Her heart began to gallop and she felt naked, in spite of the wrap over her nightgown.

“No,” she murmured. “I suppose not.”

Ian levered his weight off the table and pressed in a bit closer. He brought with him the scent of the whiskey he’d drunk, mingled with shaving soap. “May I ask you something?”

Her heart quickened. “Of course.”

“Has anyone come to keep company with you? Any suitors, I mean.”

His question made her heart lurch. Never before had he shown any interest in her social state. “For me? No.”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding. I thought surely there would be several lads creeping ’round.”

Heat ignited in her belly and flushed straight up her neck and into her cheeks. The pulsing between her thighs resurged. “You’re the one who’s kidding, Ian. Me? Suitors? Come now. No one wants a lass who runs around in trousers and Wellies.”

Understanding flicked across his features. “Ah, that’s right.” The way he looked at her made her heart thump loudly. Since she had grown to womanhood, Ian was the first man ever to look at her with that soft shine that she’d seen in Duncan’s eyes whenever he looked at Cait, even in the presence of others. The room began to tilt and her head swam.

He reached up and brushed his fingertips along her jaw line. His touch made her shiver pleasantly. “Those articles do hide your beauty, Leda.”

His gaze moved over her face and hair, as if he had never seen her before.

“Beauty?”

He nodded. “Aye. You’re features are very soft. Very feminine.” The gold in his eyes darkened. “You even had me fooled.”

She swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “Wha-what do you mean?”

Ian moved his hand to her hair, smoothing his palm over it, and fingering the top portion of her braid. “I mean, you’re very lovely.” His hand came to rest on her hair, cradling her head gently. His eyelids hooded his eyes, which had grown dusky.

“Thank you, Ian.” Her voice escaped in a whisper. She was barely able to speak, the way her heart thrashed about in her chest.

He continued to gaze at her. “You’re twenty-one now. Why haven’t you had a coming out?” You deserve one as much as any other lass.”

“Cait wanted me to have one. I always refused.”

Ian looked puzzled. “Why? You could have new dresses. You’d be stunning. I guarantee that in the same day you’d have at least four or five lads after you.”

The thought was so ridiculous to her, she giggled.

He frowned. “I mean it, Leda. Don’t you want someone?”

The question stunned her into silence, and she wondered fleetingly if Ian had seen inside her and knew of her secret love for Duncan. She looked at Ian, whose hand rested on her hair. The tenderness in his gaze so contrasted with the baleful glare Duncan had given her the other day it sent flutters through her stomach and heart. Ian was now the first man who’d ever held her in his arms and told her she was lovely. He awakened the hunger that had slumbered inside her since she’d realized her love for Duncan would always be unrequited.

Yes, I do want someone, she wanted to say. Someone who’s kind, compassionate, handsome, who finds me lovely and tells me so. I want you. She suppressed a gasp. How could she feel this way when she’d pined after Duncan for the last five years? The answer was simple. Ian was being kind to her. He was her best friend.

The words teetered on her lips. She did not dare speak them, even though they were true. Ian was as unattainable for her as Duncan had always been. Like his brother, Ian was a gentleman. He studied at Oxford and played cricket. He traveled to foreign lands. Although she, too, was a MacGregor, Leda knew her place. She was no higher in status than a crofter.

Her privileges came from Duncan’s good graces, as repayment to her mother for nursing Malcolm. She caught her breath. “Only…if he’s…like you.”

Ian looked momentarily startled. Something strange flashed in his eyes, something that appeared to be sadness. He chuckled. “You can do far better than me.” He removed his hand from her hair and leaned against the table, his palm resting on the surface, not far from her thigh.

“Why would you say such a thing, Ian?”

He chuckled again and looked down at the floor. “I say it because you deserve more than I could ever give you.”

Leda heard the criticism in his tone and her heart ached. Immediately she thought he meant his status as the non-holding brother, the man who had to carve his way in the world and prove himself because he did not inherit the estate.

Emboldened, she reached out and placed her palm against his cheek, which was smooth but for the hint of growth that he would shave off in the morning. With gentle pressure, she bid him to look up at her. “Now it’s my turn to tell you you’re speaking nonsense.”

She gazed into the greenish gold of his eyes. To her chagrin, he looked very sad. He put his hand over hers, gently pulling it away from his face and shook his head. “It’s not nonsense, Leda. I know it to be true.”

His hand was warm on hers and sent a flush of pleasant heat tingling in her arm. She loved his touch, which made her feel as heady as the whiskey.

“You’re sweet and good-hearted,” he said. “As well as bonny.” His eyes studied her.

“You deserve a prince.”

“I don’t want a prince. You’re every bit as wonderful as a prince.” Her voice escaped in a whisper. She was melting under his gaze. She realized, with a lurch of her heart, that they were discussing…being together.

“You’ve always believed in me, haven’t you, Leda? That’s why I’ve always felt so safe with you.” He moved in closer, so close she could feel the heat of his body. His breathing had gone ragged. “I’ve been so blind, little swan. So blind.” He reached up and touched her cheek. “How could I have not seen you?”

Leda caught her breath softly. Her heart pumped madly and she could hear her blood rush in her ears. Her vision blurred and she felt drunk.

Ian leaned his face to hers and pressed his lips into her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sweet, sensual warmth that radiated into her skin. With his fingertips, he caressed her other cheek.

He rested his lips on her skin for several heartbeats before lifting his face away and gazing into her eyes.

The sound of a man clearing his throat resounded through the kitchen. Leda’s heart thumped and her gaze whipped in the direction of the doorway.

Duncan stood there, watching them. His eyes registered surprise then narrowed.

Leda had never seen Duncan so unkempt, his skin so pale, or his hair mussed, disappearing into the crumpled white collar. Dark stubble covered his jaw.

Ian’s hand tightened surreptitiously over hers out of the line of Duncan’s vision. “What is it, Duncan?” he asked, breaking the tense silence.

Duncan’s glaze flickered coldly over her face before falling on the whiskey bottle.

“Pour me a glass of that, Ian.”

“You’ve had enough, brother,” Ian said softly. “You need to rest.”

Duncan teetered a bit in the doorway, balancing himself with a hand on the doorpost. “I’m the one responsible for you, little brother. No’ the other way ’round.”

Ian released Leda’s hand and stepped toward his brother. “Come, Duncan, I’ll see you upstairs.”

“Let me be,” Duncan growled, waving him off, and almost falling over because of it. “I did no’ mean to interrupt your party.” He stared at Leda.

She felt herself cowering under his glare and fought back tears. “I’m sorry, Duncan,” she whispered.

Duncan opened his mouth to speak, but Ian stepped between them, standing in front of Leda like a shield.

Duncan, leave her alone. She’s not at fault.”

Duncan’s mouth worked at the corner, and he shot another hard look at Leda.

“Go to bed, Duncan.”

Duncan glared at her a moment longer, then at Ian. A low, mangled sound escaped his throat before he turned and staggered out of the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, Leda let her tears escape. She covered her eyes and trembled.

Ian turned and embraced her. “It’s all right,” he crooned. “Please, Leda, calm down.”

He grasped her shoulders and held her away from him. “Listen to me. Listen carefully.”

The pleading tone of his voice made her uncover her eyes and look at him.

“Don’t you understand why he came down here in the first place?”

She shook her head, sniffling.

“He felt bad about what he said. I know it’s all twisted inside him, but you must believe me.” He paused and what looked like fear widened his eyes. “Leda, I’m afraid you’ll feel driven away. I beg you not to go. I know it’s more than I’ve a right to ask, considering I’m away so much.”

His words touched her and made her feel wanted. “Of course I’ll stay here for you, Ian.”

Relief flooded his handsome face. “Thank God.” He pulled her into his arms and held her for what seemed a long time. When he pulled away, he looked sad again. “Leda, I wish things were different.”

“So do I.”

“No, you don’t understand.” He sighed and ran one hand through his chestnut hair. It raked like silk through his fingers. “I can’t explain it. But if things were different, if I were different…” He fell silent. “Please promise me we’ll always be friends?”

Leda’s heart jumped at the plea in his voice. “Of course, Ian. I promise.”

Ian picked up one of her hands and pressed it to his lips. He held it against his cheek and looked up at her. “I’ll walk you back upstairs,” he said softly. He released her, picked up the bottle of whiskey and returned it to its hiding place. He came back over to the table and held out his hand. “Come.”

Leda slipped off the table, into his embrace. The length of their bodies pressed together with nothing but their nightclothes between them, and she felt a sudden stirring of hardness against her leg. Ian moved away quickly, looking embarrassed. He took her hand and led her out of the kitchen.

Leda followed him quietly, wishing so badly she could just stay in his room with him.

At the top of the stairs he turned to her, his hands on her shoulders. “Tomorrow we’ll go riding,” he whispered. “How’s that?”

She looked up at him. She wanted so badly to stay with him the rest of the night, but knew that was impossible. “That’s wonderful.”

He smiled and leaned down to her, giving her a peck on the cheek. The kiss was a painfully far cry from the one he had pressed into her skin earlier. When he straightened, he released her arms. “Good night, little swan.”

Leda paused, watching him, hoping that at any moment he would come forward and kiss her again. But he didn’t. “Good night.” Reluctantly, she forced herself to turn and go back to her room, where she lay as sleepless as before. All she could think of was Ian. Thank God they had tomorrow to spend together.