Awoken: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Sisters of Kilbride Book 2)

by Jayne Castel

  Thanking Inghean for her hospitality, Ross and Leanna retired to the annex.

  It was a tiny space, with a low, sloping ceiling, but Inghean took care of it well. Lavender scented the air from bunches of the herb that hung from the rafters. The floor and bedding were clean, and a small hearth burned in one corner. Ned followed them in, bearing a large bowl of hot water, which he placed upon a wash stand in one corner behind a narrow wooden screen.

  Then, bidding them both goodnight, the old man left the annex, closing the door behind him.

  Leanna turned to Ross, to find him watching her, a gentle—if tired—smile curving his lips.

  “Do ye want to wash first?” he asked.

  Leanna nodded. In truth, she was so exhausted all she wanted to do was collapse onto the bed fully clothed and fall into a deep slumber. However, she also longed to bathe, as she hadn’t done so since fleeing Dunan.

  Ducking behind the screen, she deftly removed her habit, underskirts, and léine, before she picked up the cake of soap and began to wash. It felt strange to be standing naked, just a few feet away from Ross. They had lain together, had explored each other’s bodies, but she suddenly felt shy around him.

  The scent of lavender wafted through the annex, and Leanna breathed it in with a sigh of pleasure. Lavender would forever remind her of her mother. Sadness filtered over her with the thought.

  I’ll never see her again.

  But it was just as well—this way her mother would be kept safe. Their hosts here didn’t know her real identity, a secret which would hopefully ensure their safety too.

  Returning to her ablutions, Leanna quickly washed her hair before wrapping it up in a drying cloth. Then, dressed only in her ankle-length léine, she emerged from behind the screen.

  Ross was reclining on the bed. He’d stripped off his boots, léine, and vest, and wore only his braies. However, he’d fallen asleep while waiting for her.

  Leanna halted before the bed, her gaze devouring him. The first time she’d set eyes on him, she’d been struck by his beauty—and she was again now. His expression was softer in repose, younger.

  Leaning over the bed, Leanna gently shook him. “Sorry, Ross … it’s yer turn.”

  His eyes flickered open, their midnight blue depths focusing upon her. “Did I fall asleep?” he croaked.

  “Aye,” Leanna replied with a smile. “Go on … before the water cools.”

  With a pained groan, he rolled off the bed, cast her a rueful look, and padded behind the screen. Moments later Leanna heard splashes as he started to wash.

  Drying her hair as best she could, Leanna hung up the linen cloth over the back of a chair. Then, yawning, she stretched out upon the bed. The straw-filled mattress was surprisingly firm and comfortable, the linen soft. It felt as if she was lying upon a cloud.

  The moment Leanna’s head hit the pillow, her eyes fluttered shut, and sleep took her.

  She awoke much later, rising from sleep like a swimmer emerging from deep water. Softness and comfort surrounded her, yet she was aware of a strong, warm male body pressed against her back—and of a hand that lazily stroked her thigh.

  Leanna stirred with a soft moan.

  “Are ye awake, mo leannan?” Ross murmured, his breath feathering against her ear.

  Leanna gave a slow, languorous stretch. “I am now … what time is it?”

  “Very late … we’ve both been asleep for a while.”

  “I don’t even remember ye coming to bed.”

  “That’s because ye were snoring away when I’d finished washing.”

  Leanna stiffened. “I don’t snore.”

  His soft laugh made pleasure shiver down her neck. “Aye, ye do … just softly. Don’t worry, I like it.”

  Leanna rolled over to face him. “I don’t snore.”

  He was grinning now. “Ye do … like a wee pup.” He reached out then, his fingers tracing the line of her hip and thigh through the thin material of her léine. “An adorable sound.”

  Leanna glared at him a moment longer, before the sensation of his warm hand distracted her. His touch glided over her hip, and up to the dip of her waist. She was aware then, that Ross was naked. The fire behind him had died to glowing embers, casting a soft red light over his skin.

  Leanna’s pulse accelerated, and her mouth went dry. “Lord … ye are a feast for the eyes,” she murmured, boldly letting her gaze travel down the length of him.

  “Am I?” he asked, a laugh in his voice.

  Leanna raised an eyebrow. Surely, he was trawling for compliments now. “I imagine women have told ye that?”

  “One or two, perhaps,” he replied softly, “but such an observation from ye means much more.”

  Leanna gave a snort. “Ye are insufferably arrogant.”

  His grin softened. “Hopefully, ye don’t find that too off-putting?”

  “Luckily for ye, I don’t,” Leanna replied. Reaching out, she traced her fingertips down his chest to the toned muscles of his belly. Her breath caught when she noted how his shaft hardened in response, and without hesitating, or questioning her bold behavior, she reached down and took him in hand.

  Ross gasped. “Gently now, mo leannan.” He reached down then and guided her hand, showing her how to fist him, how to glide her hand up and down the length of his shaft, increasing the pressure just slightly beneath the swollen tip. And when Leanna had mastered the action, he rolled onto his back with a groan. His eyes shut, and a nerve flickered in his cheek. “That’s right,” he breathed.

  Watching him, Leanna felt heat pool in her loins, and the sensitive skin between her thighs started to ache. She loved seeing him like this, loved having this much control over his pleasure.

  After a few more lazy strokes, she released his shaft and sat up.

  Ross’s eyes flickered open, and he watched her under hooded lids as she wriggled out of her léine.

  “Ye are lovely,” he murmured, his hot gaze raking down the length of her. “A fae maiden all of my own.”

  Leanna flushed at the compliment.

  Ross reached out and pulled her close, positioning Leanna so that she sat astride him. Her breathing quickened then, for she felt his erection pressed hard up against her. She wriggled against him, and he gasped. “Temptress.”

  Gazing down at him, Leanna undulated her hips once more, this time eliciting a deep groan. A thrill went through her. She loved this.

  Ross started to stroke her then, his hands sliding up her thighs, to her buttocks, back and then belly. And all the while, Leanna rubbed herself up against him, a delicious heat building in the cradle of her belly.

  “Lean forward, my love,” he whispered. “Kiss me.”

  She did as bid, her mouth capturing his. They kissed hungrily, a tangle of lips and tongues, and then Ross’s hands fastened upon her hips, lifting her up, and settling her onto his engorged shaft.

  The feeling of him penetrating her made a cry rise within Leanna. She’d enjoyed their first coupling, but she’d been a maid, and it had hurt at first. This time was different—there was no pain, just aching pleasure. She sank onto him, taking him in fully, as their kisses deepened.

  Then, still holding her hips, Ross started to rock her against him.

  Leanna gasped into his mouth as delight shivered through her loins. With a groan of his own, Ross tore his lips from hers and greedily feasted upon her breasts, suckling them hard.

  Writhing against him, Leanna started to experiment, lifting herself up so that she could slide down the full length of him. The sensation that movement caused made her quiver, and made Ross groan into her breasts.

  Again, she lifted herself up, and again she slid down his hard rod, impaling herself to the root.

  Ross threw his head back then, growling a curse.

  She began to ride Ross, bringing him deeper inside her with each thrust of her hips, before heat and a deep throbbing pleasure exploded in her core. Leanna arched back, her cry filling the annex.

  A heartbeat l
ater Ross thrust up against her, his shout joining hers as he too found his release.

  Pulse racing, her body slick with sweat, Leanna collapsed against him.

  Heat pulsed through her, a wildness that she’d never known possessing her. She wanted to claim this man, wanted to brand herself upon his skin. Maybe if she did, she could chase away all the things that threatened their happiness.

  29

  A Long Time Dead

  THEY WERE AT the dock before sunrise, as instructed. The rest of Knock still slumbered as two figures moved down the waterfront, hand-in-hand. The moon had long since set, and the faint glow upon the eastern horizon warned that dawn was very close to breaking.

  Leanna squeezed Ross’s hand, scanning her surroundings nervously as she walked. Initially, upon leaving the annex, she’d been wary of the darkness. However, now that her eyes had gotten used to it, she could make out her surroundings with more ease.

  Apart from the gentle lapping of the water against the dock, the morning was eerily silent. It was too early even for the dawn chorus.

  They arrived at the merchant’s birlinn to find the man already there and loading the boat up with supplies. The birlinn was a wooden vessel common to Skye and the surrounding isles. The boat, which could be sailed or rowed, had a small furled sail and a streamlined look—hailing back to its Viking origins—and was made of thin wooden planks of pine.

  “Good to see ye both managed to rise so early,” the merchant observed. “Help me with the last of these crates, and we’ll be off.”

  No sooner had the merchant spoken when a gruff male voice—younger and deeper than the merchant’s—intruded. “Going somewhere?”

  Leanna went still. She knew that voice.

  A moment later, a broad-shouldered figure with close-cropped blond hair stepped out of the shadows on the dock behind them.

  Leanna’s heart started to race. Carr Broderick.

  Somehow, MacKinnon had found them.

  Ross gently squeezed the hand he still held, warning her to keep quiet and calm. Of course, he knew Broderick much better than she did—he would have to handle this.

  “Aye, Carr,” Ross replied, his voice soft in the pre-dawn hush. “We’re leaving Skye for good.”

  “MacKinnon might have something to say about that.” Broderick stepped closer, and as the first glimmers of sun lightened the morning behind him, Leanna saw his face clearly. He had handsome, if austere, features that were set in a hard expression. However, his eyes were troubled.

  “Is he here?” Ross asked, his tone unchanging.

  “No … he’s gone to Duncaith.”

  A brief silence followed these words. Leanna’s gaze slid down Broderick’s burly form to the sword that hung at his side. Interestingly, he hadn’t yet drawn it.

  “And the rest of yer men?” Ross asked. “Surely, ye aren’t searching for us alone.”

  “I sent them ahead, to look farther down the coast,” Broderick replied, his voice giving nothing away. “I had a feeling ye would be at the docks this morning.”

  Although Leanna didn’t glance his way, she sensed Ross’s smile. “Ye know me well.”

  “I thought I did … until a couple of days ago.”

  “Don’t tell me ye wouldn’t have done the same thing,” Ross replied, his tone hardening just a little. “We both knew MacKinnon had gone too far … we should never have abducted Leanna.”

  “And yet we did,” Broderick countered. “And unlike ye, I continue to serve him.”

  “Ye saw MacKinnon slay Father Athol,” Ross said quietly. “Do ye think if any of us displeased him, he wouldn’t have done the same to us? We were both living on borrowed time at Dunan. I had to make a decision.”

  “And ye have, it seems.” There was an edge to Broderick’s voice then that Leanna couldn’t quite isolate. Anger or wry humor, she couldn’t be sure.

  Silence fell upon the docks. Leanna glanced askance at the merchant. The older man stood upon the deck of his birlinn, gaze narrowed while he observed the unfolding scene.

  “I love Leanna,” Ross said finally, his voice low and steady, “and I’ll die before I see her back in MacKinnon’s clutches.”

  Leanna’s chest tightened at these words. Suddenly, she found it hard to draw breath. Ross had told her how he felt, but to hear him publicly announce it confirmed that he’d meant what he’d said.

  Carr Broderick’s grey-blue eyes widened, before his mouth quirked. “Ross Campbell in love … never thought I’d see it.”

  “Neither did I … but the past few days have changed me.”

  “Ye have given everything up,” Broderick replied, his tone pensive now. “Everything ye sweated blood to achieve.”

  “Leanna is worth the sacrifice.”

  “But ye have nothing other than the clothes on yer back.”

  “I have some coin I’ve managed to save over the years.” Ross patted the pouch he kept tucked away inside his vest. “It’ll be enough to get us started.”

  Broderick huffed a deep breath and folded his arms across his broad chest. “So, ye think I’m going to let ye go, do ye?”

  Ross held his friend’s eye, his head cocking slightly. “Ye sent yer men ahead for a reason … ye wanted to speak to me alone. Ye didn’t want MacKinnon or the others knowing ye had found me.”

  Broderick’s mouth thinned at this, and Leanna realized with a jolt that Ross was right. His friend was conflicted; she could see the battle he was waging with himself in his shadowed eyes.

  “Damn ye, Ross,” he growled finally. “Do ye realize the position ye have put me in?”

  Ross nodded. “I’d hoped to spare ye this.”

  “Does this mean we’re going now?” the merchant spoke up. His gravelly voice held a wary edge. “Sorry to intrude, lads … but the sun’s rising, and I’d prefer to be on my way.”

  Broderick frowned at this, his attention never wavering from Ross. “Where are ye headed?”

  “It’s best ye don’t know, Carr,” Ross replied softly. “For yer own good … and ours.”

  A bitter smile twisted Broderick’s face. “Afraid that MacKinnon might try and torture it from me?”

  “Aye,” Ross replied, not smiling back. “Ye know as well as I what he’s capable of.”

  Broderick’s smile faded, and a muscle bunched in his jaw. Leanna wondered what part he’d played in the torture of Brochan.

  Silence fell once more, and then the warrior nodded. “So be it, Ross … I never saw ye here.” He stepped forward, reaching out an arm. “Ye might as well enjoy this happiness while it lasts … for ye are a long time dead.”

  Relief washed over Leanna, turning her knees weak under her. Slowly, she let out the breath she’d been holding. She couldn’t believe it—he was letting them leave.

  Ross’s face relaxed for the first time since Carr Broderick had stepped out of the shadows. He moved toward the warrior and clasped Broderick’s arm with his, before pulling him into a bear hug. “Go well, my friend,” he murmured. “I will never forget this.”

  The high walls of Kilbride rose against the washed-out morning sky, the peaked roof of its kirk piercing the heavens. Eyes upon his destination, Duncan MacKinnon slowed his courser to a brisk trot. His men fanned out behind him. The jangling of iron bits, the thud of hoof beats, and the creak of leather intruded upon the quiet of the dawn.

  However, Duncan didn’t pay the sunrise any mind—for his attention was wholly upon the abbey. Fury churned in his gut, making it ache dully. The pain had been there ever since they’d departed from Duncaith the evening before.

  Leanna and Ross weren’t there.

  The new chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat had given him a frosty welcome, yet MacKinnon hadn’t cared. He’d ridden into the bailey, swung down from his mount, and demanded that MacDonald hand over the fugitives.

  Bard MacDonald had stridden out to meet him, white-lipped with rage. They’d nearly come to blows out there in the bailey, in front of warriors and servants—yet
at the end of the altercation, Duncan had been forced to accept that Leanna and Ross had not fled to Duncaith as he’d thought.

  MacDonald had been hostile, but there’d been no lie in his eyes. Instead, Duncan had seen concern for his niece.

  He wasn’t harboring her.

  So that left Kilbride—the only stone yet unturned. Duncan had sent Broderick out to cover the south coast, but part of the clan-chief still believed that Leanna and Ross would have sought out the safety of allies.

  The abbess of Kilbride had already shown herself to be a liar—the woman had willingly hidden knowledge of Annella Fraser and Gavin MacNichol just under a year earlier.

  She’d looked him in the eye and told him they’d never returned to Kilbride. But MacKinnon had known she was lying.

  If the woman tried the same this time, he’d cut out her tongue.

  “Mother Shona!” An excited young female voice intruded, drawing the abbess out of the book she was reading.

  With a sigh, the abbess glanced up. This time of the morning was Mother Shona’s quiet time—one of the few moments of the day when she could sit and relax. Lauds, morning mass, and the first meal of the day had all been completed, and she had a brief respite before the daily chapter meeting.

  Seated upon a chair in her hall, she’d been immersed in a history about the kings of Scotland, and had just been reading about King Duncan the Second, who’d ruled Scotland over three hundred years earlier—a military man who hadn’t been skilled in the art of peace-weaving. Mother Shona had been musing what a pity is was that Scotland no longer had a strong ruler to stand against the English when she’d been interrupted.

  “What is it?” she called out.

  “We have visitors, Mother Shona … MacKinnon is here!”

  The abbess closed her book with a snap and rose to her feet. Two days after Sister Leanna’s departure for Duncaith, she’d received word that the nun’s escort had been attacked on its journey south. Sister Leanna had disappeared, and there’d been no news of her since.