My Rebel Highlander Page 5

  "You must find a man to love, who loves you, too. Then marriage won't be a chore." Angelique smiled.

  "Aye," Calla said. "'Tis easier said than done, though."

  Angelique's green eyes sparkled with mischief. "We must start searching for your new husband."

  ***

  Two hours later, in the bedchamber they shared, Calla and Elena, with the help of Elena's maid, readied themselves for a ride beyond the walls. Though normally Calla loved riding in nature, she was not looking forward to this, for she would again have to face Rebbie.

  "I've decided to marry Laird Rebbinglen!" Elena announced with a grin and excitedly bounced on her toes.

  Dread speared Calla's stomach. Why would she feel that way? She didn't know. She certainly had no claim to him, but Elena did. They were betrothed and bound by contract, after all. Calla forced a tight smile for her cousin. "I thought you feared him."

  Elena waved a hand. "'Twas only the plaid and weapons that frightened me. They gave him the look of a malicious barbarian, but now I know he is very civilized." She beamed. "Do you think he will make a good husband?"

  Calla could say nay, but she couldn't dishonor him with a lie. "Aye, I think so."

  "He is so handsome," Elena gushed.

  "That he is. So, the fact he is a decade older than you matters not at all now?"

  "Nay, he is young compared to some of the men my friends were forced to marry."

  "'Tis true." Calla nodded. Certainly far younger than the man she had been forced to marry years ago.

  "I think I could fall in love with him," Elena whispered, her eyes sparkling.

  Calla was stunned speechless for a moment. What could she say to that? 'Twas obvious it would be easy for any woman to fall in love with Rebbie.

  "But you don't seem happy for me." Elena pouted.

  Calla forced a bright expression. "I am extremely happy for you, cousin."

  "After I'm married, we'll start looking for another laird for you to marry. A much younger one this time."

  "Nay, I think not." Calla shook her head, annoyed that Angelique and Elena had the same idea. "One marriage was more than enough for me."

  "You are young and beautiful, Calla. You are but twenty-four summers. And I've seen how the men's eyes follow you."

  Calla wanted to squirm upon her chair, but rose and paced instead. She knew some men found her attractive—men she wished would never look at her again. Despicable men like Claybourne. Remembering the look of pure lust upon his long face, she cringed.

  Calla was doubtful there was a laird in Scotland she would wish to marry. Of course, the financial support would be a godsend. But why would she want to put such a burden as her late husband's debt on any good man? On the other hand, what if her future husband was also a gambler, or ended up treating her worse than Stanbury? Marriage itself was a gamble for no one knew how it would play out.

  And now, as Elena's companion, Calla would be forced to face Laird Rebbinglen yet again as they rode through the wood. She prayed he would not reveal to the others how they had met years ago in a most scandalous way.

  ***

  "I'm amazed you've stayed this long, given the circumstances," Lachlan said to Rebbie as the stable lads led their saddled horses into the courtyard.

  "Aye, well, I told my father I'd see what happened." Rebbie didn't want to marry Elena. He'd already decided that. And he'd intended to leave today, but after discovering Lady Stanbury at breakfast that morn, he couldn't leave just yet. She intrigued him and he had to find out more about her. Glancing around, he found her standing some distance away, near the castle's entrance. She smiled at something one of the other ladies said, her gray eyes alight with humor, and he found himself stunned by her beauty. And her body… hellfire! Though still slender, she had bloomed into a most curvaceous female—just the sort he fancied.

  Speaking low, Rebbie turned to Lachlan and asked, "What is Lady Stanbury's first name?"

  Lachlan sent him a quick grin. That, along with the mischievous gleam in his eye, told Rebbie his question had revealed too much. "Now, why would you be asking me that?"

  Rebbie's face heated, much to his annoyance. "I'm curious. 'Tis all."

  "Oh, aye." Lachlan chuckled. "Her name is Calla. She's the widow of the Earl of Stanbury."

  Rebbie nodded. Widow. That was good, then. Not that he wished any man dead.

  Lachlan stepped away to help Lady Angelique mount. Rebbie was glad to see some of the other men had already assisted Lady Elena and Lady Stanbury into their saddles. Not that he didn't want to help them exactly. 'Twas just a bit awkward. And something told him he really shouldn't touch Calla unless he wanted to have vivid erotic fantasies playing through his head all day.

  Hoisting himself into the saddle, he tried not to remember the night they'd spent together, but he could think of naught else at the moment. He'd bedded many ladies over the years, but Lady Stanbury—Calla—had always lingered in his mind. She was one of the few he'd hoped to see again.

  Back then, she'd told him she was a widow. If that was true, she'd been widowed a long time. Or had she remarried after that, and lost her second husband? Had the Barclays hired her as a companion for their daughter, or did she simply travel with them for entertainment? He doubted Lachlan knew the answers, and Rebbie certainly didn't want to ask any more questions now. His friend would tease him unmercifully.

  Moments later, they rode through the gates and along a trail through the mossy wood. The temperatures here were much warmer than they'd been in the north of Scotland where he'd spent the last several months. Now, he welcomed the cooler shade and moist, humus scent of the black soil the horses kicked up.

  Lachlan rode alongside Lady Angelique, leaving Rebbie beside Lady Elena. He sent a glance at Lady Stanbury… Calla, on her other side. Aye, he definitely liked thinking of her as Calla. 'Twas a beautiful name that suited her.

  She wore the cowl of a light-weight cloak over her head, making it impossible for him to see her face from the side. What could she be hiding from? Him? Surely she knew he wouldn't reveal their intimate encounter of years ago. And, aye, he was certain she remembered him. When he'd been introduced to her that morn, her gray eyes had said as much, as did her blush, but she'd been avoiding his gaze since then. He had to find a way to talk to her.

  About an hour later, they rode over the crest of a hill, and before them, the servants had set out a grand spread of food on plaid blankets upon the ground with a beautiful view of the river and the countryside beyond. But Rebbie wasn't hungry. Nay, his curiosity overshadowed his appetite. The men dismounted and tied their horses to saplings, then assisted the women. Since Elena was closest to him and eyeing him hopefully, 'twould be the height of rudeness to ignore her. Rebbie helped her dismount.

  "I thank you, Laird Rebbinglen," Elena said in a flirtatious tone, smiling up at him.

  "Please, I'd be honored if you'd call me Rebbie. Both of you," he said, turning to Calla nearby. He reached up to lift her down from the saddle. He relished her narrow waist and light weight within his hands. And, he'd been right, her curves were more pronounced than the last time he'd touched her. Arousal and excitement shot through him.

  She kept her eyes downcast. "I thank you." Her voice was clear but subdued.

  Damnation, how he wished to speak to her alone, to reassure her not to worry, but Elena stood only feet away. "Allow me to escort you ladies to the feast." He offered an elbow to each.

  Elena gripped his arm tightly with both hands and teetered upon her feet as they walked across the soft, pine-needle-covered ground. On his other side, Calla rested her unsteady fingers so lightly upon his arm, he barely felt them.

  From the corner of his eye, he observed her, but she kept her gaze on the ground, appearing to wish she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  How could he get a moment alone with her? 'Twas impossible now with two dozen people about.

  "'Tis a lovely view, don't you think?" Elena beamed up at him.

&nb
sp; "Indeed." He wanted to roll his eyes. After the tantrum she'd thrown at their first meeting, he couldn't believe the switch in her demeanor simply because he'd changed out of the belted plaid and into more conventional Lowland clothing. It appeared she was no longer against marrying him… unfortunately. He was going to have to wear the plaid again.

  "Here we are, ladies." He helped them kneel upon the blankets with Angelique and some of the others.

  The two maids who'd accompanied them served the meal.

  Rebbie retreated to stand beside Lachlan, who sent him a curious and amused look.

  "What?" Rebbie asked, hoping his tone didn't come out resembling a growl.

  Lachlan grinned. "You seemed happy with a lovely lady upon each arm."

  Rebbie snorted. "Hardly," he muttered low, hoping no one else heard him.

  Lachlan snickered. "Well, at least you find one of them attractive, aye?"

  Rebbie wanted to tell him where to go, but his father approached.

  "I'm proud of you, Robert," he said in a low tone. "You are actually capable of being a gentleman."

  "What the devil is that supposed to mean?" Rebbie demanded. Damned if his father didn't irritate him with every word he uttered.

  His father laughed. "Merely that you may prefer being a rebel Highlander, but you know how to be civilized when it suits you."

  Rebbie ground his teeth, tempted to tell his father where to shove the betrothal contract, but he didn't want to cause a scene with everyone looking on and ruin Angelique's outing. Besides, if he left now, he wouldn't get to talk to Calla.

  After the meal, Elena cornered Rebbie and droned on about her travels in England, shopping in London, and various other dry bits. He glanced aside, finding Calla a short distance away examining a woodland wildflower. Although she looked much the same as she did a few years ago, a couple of minor things about her had changed. Though he knew it made him no better than a goat, he couldn't stop thinking about how lush her breasts had become. He wanted to strip those clothes from her and—

  "Do you agree, my laird?" Elena asked.

  "Hmm? Pray pardon. What did you say?"

  "That London is the most exciting place in the world."

  "In many ways." But he much preferred Scotland.

  "Do you think we might live there one day, after we're married?"

  Rebbie felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. He cleared his throat and gave her a tight smile. "Nay, 'tis doubtful." Both the marriage and living in London.

  She stuck out her bottom lip in what was supposed to be a pretty pout, but it made him want to leap on his horse and ride north as if the hounds of hell were upon his heels.

  Something moved in his peripheral vision. He shifted his gaze and discovered a tree slowly tipping toward the left, directly over Calla.

  "Look out!" He bolted in her direction, grabbed her off her feet and kept going. The dead pine tree crashed to the ground behind them.

  Calla screamed as did some of the other ladies.

  Holding her tight, Rebbie turned and surveyed the damage. Short broken limbs had scattered everywhere. The other men had helped the women move back. "Is anyone hurt?" Rebbie called.

  A few shook their heads and he could see no obvious injuries. He glanced down at Calla, still in his arms.

  "Are you well?" he asked.

  Eyes wide, she nodded, then glanced at the mangled tree. "Saints! I could've been killed." Her gaze returned to him. "I thank you, my laird."

  "Rebbie," he said. "And you're welcome." He carried her back toward the others.

  She stiffened. "I can walk."

  "I ken it. I simply thought you might be a wee bit shaky after that." Indeed, she was still trembling in his arms. And he hated to realize how much he was enjoying carrying her. Though it had been years, his body remembered the feel of her slight weight and soft curves… which he appreciated far more than he could believe.

  Near Elena and Angelique, he reluctantly lowered Calla to her feet. He would've much preferred carrying her to his horse and riding off with her to some private place, but that would be daft.

  ***

  Calla stared back at Rebbie as he strode toward the other men. Angelique and Elena drew her into their arms. "Are you well, Calla?"

  "Aye, thanks to Laird Rebbinglen."

  "He is a true hero," Elena gushed.

  "I can't imagine how terrified you must have been." Angelique shook her head.

  "Indeed."

  She had not known anything was amiss. Then, suddenly, someone yelled, grabbed her off her feet and ran with her. Her first thought was that she was being abducted. The loud crash of the tree had terrified her in truth.

  But to find herself in Rebbie's arms had been most startling of all. He was indeed a strong and heroic warrior. Not like some of the thin-armed lairds she'd often seen in the Lowlands.

  Thank the saints he hadn't revealed anything about their past connection. But she often felt his unfathomable midnight gaze upon her, and it made her hot and twitchy. What was he thinking?

  Finally, her legs stopped trembling and she walked with the other women toward the horses.

  As Rebbie approached them, her heartbeat tripled in speed. "Ready to mount, ladies?" he asked.

  "Indeed, my laird," Elena said with excessive enthusiasm. "I'm ready to leave this wood before another tree falls. You see why I dislike the country?"

  Nodding, he gave the lass a tight, impatient smile and helped her mount. Calla forced her gaze away. She did not like watching him touch Elena. But they were betrothed and might one day be married. Dark emotion flooded her veins.

  He turned to Calla. "How are you feeling?"

  "Much improved." She found it difficult to meet his concerned and perceptive gaze.

  "I'm glad."

  "I thank you again for saving my life. If you hadn't seized me from the ground…" Calla shook her head.

  "No need to fash yourself over that now. 'Tis over." His slight, reassuring smile appeared genuine.

  When he came closer, her heart-rate sped up and she held her breath. His hands clasped her waist, and he easily lifted her into the saddle. Upon feeling his strength, her body tingled in ways it shouldn't have.

  "I thank you."

  "My pleasure." His dark, spellbinding gaze trapped her for a few seconds, making her recall all too vividly the pleasure he was capable of providing. Such sinful sensuality she had never imagined. A flush of heat consumed her.

  Elena coughed behind him. "My laird, pray pardon. I seem to have dropped my glove."

  He turned toward her, then retrieved the glove from the ground. 'Twould be obvious to anyone Elena had dropped it intentionally. After handing it to her, he ignored her effusive thanks and darted Calla another intense glance before heading toward his black stallion.

  Good heavens, he was paying far more attention to her than to Elena. Warmth rushed through Calla. She secretly watched and appreciated the way Rebbie's powerful body moved. Then, he gracefully leapt onto the tall horse as if it was nothing.

  Calla didn't dread the upcoming céilidh as much as she had that morn. She felt near certain Rebbie wouldn't reveal their secret. But what if he wished to talk to her privately and asked prying questions? There were some things he could never learn about her.

  ***

  "What is going on between you and Lady Stanbury?" Lachlan asked Rebbie in the solar that evening before the céilidh.

  Rebbie shrugged, pretending the very mention of the woman's name didn't send a rush of excitement over him. "I simply rescued her from that falling tree."

  Lachlan smirked and handed Rebbie a dram of whisky he'd just poured. "Very heroic of you, and I'm certainly glad you saw the tree in time. But that wasn't what I meant. You asked me her name this morn, and you've been watching her all day. Has she caught your fancy?"

  Rebbie should've known he couldn't hide anything from his friend. Besides, he trusted Lachlan more than anyone, besides Dirk. He trusted his two best friends equally. "I
'll tell you, if you promise not to breathe a word to anyone."

  "Of course."

  "I… know her," Rebbie admitted.

  "What do you mean, you know her?" Lachlan frowned. "In the Biblical sense?"

  "Aye."

  "God's teeth! When did this happen?"

  "I'm thinking 'twas four or five years ago. In Stirling. She's a widow, as you said."

  "Aye."

  "When did her husband pass?"

  "I know not, but I'll ask Angelique."

  Rebbie nodded. "But please, don't tell Angelique that we know each other from before. I don't want to embarrass Calla. I'm now wondering if 'haps she was married when we…." Rebbie cleared his throat. "She told me she was a widow back then. And I'd had too much to drink that night. Dirk and I had been playing cards in the inn. You were elsewhere, mayhap with another pretty widow."

  "I hope you don't say that in front of Angelique."

  "As if she doesn't ken already about how you chased the ladies."

  "Aye, but no need to bring up my past."

  "Have no worries. I simply want to find out more about Calla. She slipped out of the inn's room while I was sleeping the next morn. I looked for her for a few days but never saw her again, until now."

  "You looked for her?" Lachlan lifted a brow. "That's odd for you."

  Rebbie shrugged. "Aye, but 'twas a very enjoyable night… which I wished to experience again."

  His friend sipped his whisky. "And now?"

  "Nay. Not now." 'Twas a lie he wished was true. "But since I know who she is, I find myself curious about her and why she approached me that night."

  "Ladies get lonely, too, I'm certain. They're not supposed to enjoy the carnal pursuits, but … they do. Thank the saints." Lachlan smiled.

  "Aye." Rebbie remembered that Calla had eagerly accepted each of his kisses and reveled in every sensual touch. "The beginning of the night is a bit hazy now, because I'd had several drams of whisky."

  "And later?"

  Rebbie raised his brows. "Later… 'twas unforgettable. I don't recall ever enjoying the bedding so much. And I've enjoyed a lot."