The Laird's Right by Mageela Troche

“Ingenious.” Her eyes followed the mechanisms, widening with each churn. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. He recognized her emotion, the same he experienced with his mother. Then the truth dawned on him. His mother was right. He had to give this to his wife—his Portia. She was his.
    “Cairine told me your father purchased this for your mother.”
    “Aye…My father had traveled to France and commissioned it. He said that he measured the time he was away from her. The day he departed he said that every hour of the journey, he knew he was closer to his love.”
    “They must have loved each other deeply.”
    “And we have been punished for killing her.” He couldn’t kill the sneer curling his lip.
    Alec rose to his feet, turning away from her shocked expression. He had to get out of this chamber. He couldn’t leave. He plopped down on a stool. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle between his open legs. He swung his hands back and forth and glanced at the bed then back at Portia, who watched him.
    He straightened. He checked his nails. With an exhale, he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the chamber. He checked the wooden shutters, making sure they were shut against the night chill. The winds had shifted from the southeasterly direction to the northwest, bringing a gust that rattled the wood and blew up the coverings.
    He changed direction and threw more peat on the fire.
    “This is the laird’s chamber and you are not…comfortable here.”
    She was right. That she discerned the fact he had since his uncle forced him to claim his right. With his brother’s death, he knew he would be laird. Though he was meant to be chieftain to the Camerons of Dessary, the sept Ronan now led, he never wanted the position of laird. Alec possessed the smarts and skills to lead but one truth held him back. He didn’t want to be his father. And to sleep in this chamber where his father haunted each corner, the walls even the floorboards, demons haunted this chamber. He struggled to ignore them.
    “Nothing has been changed.” He blinked. He hadn’t meant to confess such knowledge. He turned to the door.
    “That is the problem.” She gave a weak smile when he faced her.
    He shrugged, knocking aside her sympathy for him.
    “Why did you leave me last night and this morn…” She lifted her chin, revealing the smooth column of her neck as a pink washed from her ears down to her chest. “Then tonight?”
    She fiddled with the side of her nightgown.
    The answer she needed to hear was the one he couldn’t speak. Her sinew spiraled tighter and tighter until all of her was bound up and a solution never appeared. Alec wasn’t blind. He knew what his problem was but solving it was the one thing that eluded him.
    Aye, he couldn’t be in the same space without a surge of desire. Hell, even now, his eyes shot to her full breasts. Men spoke of women feeling like silk but even that failed to capture how wonderful she felt. The feminine heat of her body…the feel of her flesh conforming to the pressure of his touch. His mark on her skin claiming her as his.
    A cry went up. He almost thought it came from him. Running footsteps blared from the corridor along with shouts. Alec whipped a plaid from the bed and flung it about Portia’s shoulders. He threw open the door.
    “Raid,” Quinlan yelled.
    Alec rushed out behind him. Portia’s panicked calling halted him.
    “Be careful.”
     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Portia loved the scent of the air, the blend of peat, leaves and a hint of freedom. She let the fragrance stretch her lungs. Nothing had smelled sweeter. Warm winds breezed over her and burrowed into the weave of her plaid. She thought about raising her face skyward to soak in the sunlight but decided that was dramatic. Even though, Alec had yet to return, she beamed, finally strolling the scenery she had memorized from the chamber’s window. This morn began her life as the lairdess and