Yield to the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

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      This would the longest meal of her life.

      * * *

      Aidan tried not to laugh—first at the surprise on her face when she saw him and then at the way she tried not to allow him to see how affected she was by him. When he’d decided that the only way to know why she feared him so was to know her more closely, Munro seemed the obvious way to do that. It was not difficult to wheedle an invitation to his father’s cottage for dinner.

      Now, as he and Munro talked about the day’s events, upcoming duties and plans to travel to several of the other MacLerie holdings, Aidan never took his attention from her. He noticed the way the edges of her mouth curved when she smiled, the way she savoured and chewed the succulent chunks of lamb and turnips and the way she tried not to stare at him.

      At first, she seemed intent on staying apart by sitting on the other side of the table from him and Munro and even staying out of any of the talk. But her nervousness seemed to ease and she offered a few softly spoken comments to the conversation. He noticed that any attempts to ask about her own life before coming to Lairig Dubh were neatly directed to another topic or turned into questions about him or Munro even.

      Aidan glanced around the cottage as they ate. He noticed it was plainly furnished, but clean. Similar in size to most of the cottages on this lane, he saw nothing that seemed to say this was her home there. Two trunks sat along the back wall. Munro had told him that although she’d been married to Gowan for about eight years, they’d only moved here about two years ago. That was time enough to make this her home and yet, it was not.

      As the meal continued, he watched her as much as he could. And his body reacted when he realised that she, too, stole glances of him just as much. If she was fearful or reticent, her eyes never gave it away. Though he had enjoyed the shocked expression when they’d walked in, the soft smile she gave when he offered her the loaf of bread pleased him more.

      He wanted to speak to her alone, but prodding Munro into inviting him here was the first step. Put her at ease with his presence and then further their acquaintance...hopefully much, much further.

      Soon, too soon for his liking, they finished eating the simple but tasty meal and he could draw out his time there no longer. They rose as he did and he shook Munro’s hand, with words about their duties on the morrow. Walking to the door, he turned back and spoke to Catriona.

      ‘My thanks again for the warm welcome in spite of the lateness of the plans, Mistress MacKenzie.’

      ‘Any friend of Munro’s will find himself welcomed in his father’s home, my lord,’ she said, dipping into a curtsy before him.

      He reached out and took her hand, guiding her back to standing instead of the cowering position she’d taken.

      ‘When you say “my lord”, I look for my father,’ he said, looking to Munro first. ‘Now that we are known to each other and seeing that I am friend to Munro, you may call me by my given name. I pray you, call me only Aidan.’

      She tried to free her hand from his grasp, but he held it firmly as he waited for her reaction. His body tightened, his blood heated, as he waited to finally hear the sound of his name spoken in that earthy tone of voice.

      ‘Oh, my lord, I could not be so familiar with you. You are the earl’s son, after all,’ she said, laughing as she used her other hand to loosen his fingers from around hers. ‘It would clearly be disrespectful to do so.’ The lightness in her voice slipped when she turned to Munro, who wore a dark frown now. ‘Though since it is your request that I do so...I will ask my husband for his permission when he returns.’

      Aidan nearly laughed aloud at how smartly she’d slipped his noose and reminded him once again that she had a husband. With a simple phrase, she placed that husband directly between them and in his path should he be pursuing her! He could not force the issue now without making Munro suspicious, so he nodded and smiled at her.

      ‘A wise woman who relishes the guidance of her husband,’ he said, nudging Munro with his elbow. ‘May we both be so blessed with wives as obedient as your father’s when we marry, Munro.’

      He could only describe her expression as equal amounts of anger, satisfaction and... Something else swirled in those bright blue eyes. Something he could not identify, though he hoped it was anticipation. Deciding that leaving was the best thing to do at this moment, he lifted the latch and pulled open the door.

      ‘Good evening to you both,’ he said with a nod as he stepped outside.

      Aidan did not turn back to look, though he wanted to savour every moment in her company. Part of him feared the door would slam in his face, but somehow part knew that she would never dare such a thing...at least not in front of Munro.

      The way his groin tightened told him he wanted to see more of the slamming-door Catriona than the one who seemed to cling to polite behaviour. Though she hid herself behind the plain garb and manners of a goodwife, Aidan suspected that there was so much more to Mistress Catriona MacKenzie.

      And after this meal together and after catching enticing glimpses of the spirit of the woman that lay hidden, he knew he wanted her even more.

      Chapter Five

      The man was everywhere.

      For someone of such a high position and with duties to see to, Cat had no idea of how Aidan MacLerie managed to be in the village so much. Or how it was always as she made her way through her days and chores and errands.

      When she went to get water at the well, she spied him nearby.

      When she washed clothing by the side of the stream, he sat on horseback some yards away.

      When she visited the miller and the bakehouse or the butcher, he would cross her path unexpectedly.

      Each encounter was brief and, if any exchange of words was possible, it was only a polite word of greeting. He always greeted any other person in the vicinity, too, so it did not look untoward to others. But the heat in his gaze was only for her and she knew it.

      This morn had dawned dark and dreary with rain coming in fierce, windy waves, interspersed with only brief respites of calm. Few of the villagers braved the weather, but she’d promised to help Muireall again and she could not let something as predictable as rain stop her. As she darted along the muddied paths, holding her skirts above the worst of it and pulling her arisaid over her head to keep the torrents from soaking her too quickly, she never noticed him in front of her.

      Cat hit the wall of his muscular chest and stumbled off the lane. The length of her skirts and the arisaid tripped up her feet and she careened towards a large puddle off to the side of the path. Tangled in layers of cloth, she had no chance to save herself from landing in the cold, filthy water there. She scrunched her eyes closed, pulled in a ragged breath and prepared herself for the shock of the frigid pool.

      She never hit the water.

      His strong arms encircled her, holding her only inches from the surface of the puddle, before pulling her up and against his body.

      ‘Have a care, Mistress MacKenzie,’ he whispered as he put her on her feet and righted her cloak, exposing her face to his. ‘Running with your head so low can be dangerous.’

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