“I remember that godforsaken tea.” Alexander removed the tray from her lap and placed it on the table beside the bed. Taking care not to jostle her, he lowered himself to sit beside her. “I dinna wish to shake ye or cause ye pain.”
“Ye are fine.” She blew out a ragged sigh as she pulled him closer and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “I need ye near whilst ye tell me your news. I see the worry in your eyes and I ken it must no' bode well.”
Alexander wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. With a tender kiss to the top of her head, he settled her back against his chest. “Ye already read me too well, wife.” He rested a cheek on her head and idly stroked her arm. “The Campbell means to starve us out unless we surrender.” He gave a light shrug as he traced a finger along the faint blue tracks of veins showing through the translucent skin of her inner forearm. “He’s granted safe passage to the women and children of the clan if we give him what he wishes.”
“Lying bastard,” Catriona said with a low growl.
Alexander couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aye. I agree.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Which is why I bid Sawny gather the elders and bring them here. I need to know every secret about this keep. Our survival depends on it.”
An earth-shaking boom sounded. Cannon-fire. Another bone-jarring boom split the air right behind it, even louder than the first.
Alexander ran to the window, thankful that Catriona’s suite of rooms was situated toward the front of the keep and just above the height of the curtain wall. A perfect place to take in the glen's beauty. From this viewpoint, he saw no damage. “I see nothing from here.” He turned to Catriona.
Eyes wide, face pale, and lips parted, Catriona appeared frozen with fear.
“I shouldha shot the bastard when I had the chance.” Alexander growled through clenched teeth. He rushed to Catriona’s side and took hold of her hands as Mrs. Aberfeldy and Father William burst into the room.
“Stay with her,” he ordered before either of them could say a word. Then he bolted. He had to make it to the guardhouse.
Duncan met him in the stairwell, holding up both hands. “The whoreson’s firing the damn things into the air. He’s no' aiming at us at all. What’s the bastard about?”
Alexander came to a halt and leaned against the white-washed wall of the tower housing the staircase. What a wily bastard Jameson Campbell was. “He means to rattle us so he can claim a keep that’s still intact and not have to rebuild.” He jerked a thumb upward. “Ensure plenty of wet sacks are at the ready in case he grows bored with making us deaf and decides to smoke us out.”
“Aye,” Duncan replied then took off at a run.
Alexander returned to Catriona’s chambers just as Sawny and the elders were entering the sitting room. He motioned for them to seat themselves whilst he checked on Catriona. As he opened the door, he found her no longer nested in pillows but standing at the window. He gave both Father William and Mrs. Aberfeldy pointed looks. “Why the hell is she no' abed?”
“Dinna speak as though I’m no’ here.” Catriona turned from the window, slow but steady. She made her way to a chair, one that was plump and upholstered with satin of the deepest blue, and lowered herself into it. “How bad is the damage?”
“No damage.” He pulled another chair over beside her and sat in it. “The bastard means to rattle us into surrender.”
“I’ll no' give that son of a bitch the satisfaction.” Catriona’s eyes widened at her own words and she pressed her fingers to her lips. “I mean…”
“I ken what ye mean well enough and I agree with ye.” He motioned to the door as he looked at Father Alexander. “Would ye be so kind as to show the elders and Sawny in, Father?” He shifted his gaze to Mrs. Aberfeldy. “Ye may leave.”
“Why, I—”
“Nay, woman. Come with me now. There’s no time to argue.” Scrawny Father William grabbed hold of the housekeeper’s plump arm and forcibly led her from the room.
“I dinna trust that woman,” Alexander said under his breath.
“Aye, Neither do I since her visit with me whilst they held me captive.”
“Has she harmed ye?” Alexander rose, ready to string the old housekeeper up by her thumbs.
Catriona frowned at the closed door to the sitting-room, pondering the portal as though it held answers to questions she’d yet to ask. “Nay. But things she said and things that Tom and Sawny shared with me about her in the caves. I canna put my finger on it but I ken well enough that I willna share any confidences with her ever again.”
Alexander reached out, took her hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Ye may always trust your confidences with me, love.” He wished to hell this was all behind them so he and Catriona could get back to behaving as man and wife with their greatest worry being what they’d name their children.
At that moment, the sitting-room door opened. The three elders, Munroe in the lead, along with Sawny and Tom entered.
Sawny made a half-hearted gesture toward Tom. “I thought mayhap Tom could help. He knows the keep better than me.”
“That’s fine.” Alexander nodded to the two older men standing beside Munroe. “Your names?”
“Jock Neal,” said the taller of the two. The man looked like a great knob-kneed water bird with a long beak of a nose and a frame so thin he risked disappearing if he turned sideways.
“Cuddy Neal,” replied the other man in a voice so soft that Alexander leaned forward to hear him.
Still holding Catriona’s hand tight in his own, Alexander scanned the faces of the trio of old men and the two young boys. “I need to ken every secret this keep holds. Passages. Caves. Double walls. Jameson Campbell intends to starve us out so what ye tell me here today could be the key to our survival, ye ken?”
“Aye,” they all replied in unison then Sawny stepped forward. “Me and Tom had an idea that might help sway the odds in our favor. Would ye care to hear it?”
“Aye,” Alexander replied without hesitation. What could be more creative and devious than a pair of twelve-year-old lads itching to make a name for themselves in this world?
“We figure them c-cannons got a lot t-to do with ole Campbell thinking so high of himself,” Tom said. Determination and fire flashed in the lad’s dark eyes.
The boy’s fervor surprised Alexander. This was the first time he could remember hearing the lad string together more than a couple of words and speak them whilst looking him in the eye. Alexander gave him a nod to continue.
Tom wet his lips as though his thoughts were making his mouth water. “The six of us c-could do it.” He looked at his friend. “Daren’t ye think so?”
“Aye,” Sawny replied, his reddish brows knotted above his narrowed eyes.
“Do what?” Catriona shifted, her gaze flitting from Tom to Sawny.
“Clear our glen of the cannons,” Sawny answered then grinned. “Oakie’ll help us. Ye ken how he loves gunpowder.”
“Who is Oakie?” Alexander asked, not entirely certain he truly wanted to know judging from the leery look on Catriona’s face.
“Our f-friend,” Tom supplied with a gap-toothed smile.
Catriona pulled in a deep breath and released it in a huffing sigh. “Young Oakie has always loved fire since he was little more than a bairn.” Catriona seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty finding the words. She gave Alexander a pained look and a sheepish shrug as she squeezed his hand. “But he loves what it does to gunpowder even better.”
“Aye,” Sawny chimed in. “Murtagh nearly skint him when he blew up the fencing in the east paddock last summer. Said it knocked the horses off their feed for most nigh a month.”
They intended to blow up the cannons. These boys and four of their friends. Alexander shifted to the edge of his seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. “The two of ye think ye can do this without getting yourselves killed?” He hated the thought of sending little more than children into such a dang
erous situation.
“Master Duncan said he was f-fourteen when he took to f-fighting,” Tom defended, astutely guessing what was giving Alexander pause. “S-Sawny and me be thirteen n-next month. Oakie and the others are b-bout the same. S-some a little older.”
Sawny stepped forward and went down on one knee before him. “Ye have our fealty, my chieftain. Please allow us to defend our clan.”
The boys’ creativity and sincerity touched Alexander’s heart. After studying them a long moment, he agreed. “Aye, lads. I trust ye to protect us but I’ll be sending Magnus along in case ye have need of his wisdom.” Alexander held up a hand to stay their protests. “No argument. And may God go with ye.”
Chapter 23
“Ye willna hurt me. Please come.” She drew back the covers. “Please lie with me.” Catriona flinched as another round of cannon fire boomed, shattering the stillness of the night. The only peace they got was while the pair of cannons was reloaded or when Campbell’s men went to take a piss or eat. She prayed that Sawny’s and Tom’s plan worked and soon. Her nerves were raw and the sound of cannon fire grated on her like a broken nail dragged across silk.
“Sweet Jesu! I’ll be glad when this is over.” She smoothed a hand across the sheets beside her and patted the bed again. “Please? Ye need your rest and neither the chair nor the floor will give it to ye.” The stubbornness of her husband fair matched her own.
Alexander fidgeted next to the bed, eyeing the spot beside her like a hungry dog watching its master’s plate. At long last, he blew out a low, groaning sigh, stripped down to nothing but his léine, and ever so gingerly slipped into bed next to her. “I dinna wish to shift ye or bump ye in my sleep. What if I cause your wounds to bleed? What if I hurt ye?”
“They didna bleed when I washed away Elena’s noxious poultice. I’m sure they’re well on the way to healin' completely and weren’t nary as bad as everyone thought.” She bit the inside of her cheek against a shooting pain as she scooted up into the crook of his arm and nestled her head into the dip of his shoulder. “I’ve so missed your warmth,” she whispered as she slid her hand up under his shirt and rubbed it across his broad chest.
Alexander tensed beneath her touch and huffed out a groaning sigh that matched the first one. “And that’s another reason I thought it might no’ be prudent to share your bed.”
Catriona slid her hand lower. His fine member had returned to the wonderfully long hardness of their wedding night and strained to meet her.
“Mayhap if I—”
“No!” Alexander grabbed up her hand and held it to the center of his chest. “We’ll no’ be doin’ none of that until ye've healed enough so I dinna have to worry about loving ye straight into your grave.”
“Well, fine.” Whilst she agreed he was probably right, she most assuredly felt passion would do wonders as a pain reliever for her and a tension reliever for him. A terrible thought occurred to her, one she felt she must share. “What if we never share another joining ever again? What if Campbell overtakes the keep? If he’s no' able to do so with the troops he’s already amassed, he’ll overpower us once the king’s regiment arrives.”
A bone-rattling explosion shook the keep. Dust filtered down from the ceiling, rattling across them like rain.
Alexander trembled beneath her hand then shook harder when his deep rumbling laugh broke free. “Well done, lads, well done.”
“Ye're certain 'twas them?” Catriona shook herself and the bedcovers free of the dust and rose to go to the window to see. “I see fire and many rushing about down in the Campbell camp. Aye, they did it!”
“Good lads they are,” Alexander said as he joined her and stood with an arm draped across her shoulders.
“Sneaky lads, ye mean.” Catriona wrapped her arms around Alexander’s waist and snuggled closer whilst still watching the Campbell camp attempt to put out the fires started by the demolition of their cannons. “Thank goodness they’re on our side.”
“Aye,” Alexander agreed then swept her up into his arms, took her back to bed, and settled her in it before climbing in beside her. “Sawny swore he and his friends could disable the cannons and set fire to the gunpowder all in one fair swoop. Quick and crafty as foxes, they are. That boy’s too smart to be a kitchen lad. Him and Tom both. We need to find a better place for him. I’m thinkin’ he needs to foster with Magnus.”
“A fine idea.” She snuggled back to Alexander’s side, content with the success of the evening. But far too quickly, new worries stained that contentment—seeped through it and spread like a deadly poison. “Now we’ll truly feel the Campbell’s rage,” she mused aloud.
“Aye.”
Alexander’s tone worried her even more. In it, she heard the echo of her own fears and the weight of her own dread building within him. She reached up and pulled Alexander’s face down to hers. “I need ye to love me this night, Alexander. I need ye to hold me and make me forget that we might die tomorrow. Please, husband. Ye willna hurt me. I promise.”
Alexander rolled to his side and faced her, cradling her face in his hand as he tickled his thumb across her bottom lip. “I fear—”
“I dinna fear pain,” she said as she watched the play of moonlight across his face. “All I fear is losing ye and having to go through the rest of this life without ye. Please, Alexander. Take away that fear for a little while. Please love me.”
Alexander stared at her for a long moment, eyes dark and unreadable. Finally, he stripped off his léine, then gently rolled her to her back. With the greatest care, he started at the hem of her shift, moved it up her body, and helped her slide it off over her head. Catriona could barely breathe as he rose above her, propping himself on elbows and knees to protect her from the weight of him.
Catriona shuddered as she smoothed her hands across the tops of his shoulders and down his back. Words weren’t needed between them. She saw his love for her in his eyes, felt it in his touch. He bent down and kissed her, tasting of both whisky and the honeyed wine they’d shared with their meal.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep relaxing breath as he kissed his way across her collarbone, taking care to avoid the stab wound between it and the top of her rib cage. His warm breath fanned across her skin, making her nipples tighten and strain for his touch. He worshipped her breasts with mouth and hands, making it impossible to lie still. She wrapped her right leg up around his hips and stroked her calf across the smooth, muscular hardness of his back and buttocks.
He made to kiss his way lower, but she grabbed hold of the sides of his face and stopped him. “Nay, m’love. I want ye inside me now, aye?”
“Aye,” he said softly as he repositioned his powerful arms on either side of her and nudged himself in between her legs. “I dinna wish to hurt ye,” he repeated as he slowly pushed his way inside her.
Reveling in the way he filled her, Catriona stroked his sides with her hands and her right leg. 'Twas a mighty chore to keep her left leg still to avoid paining her lower side and the area around the other stab wound. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the intoxicating slow in and out slide of Alexander’s ever so gentle thrusts.
“More,” she breathed against his lips as he kissed her. “More, I beg ye.”
Alexander rocked into her faster and deeper with muscles so tensed against hurting her that he trembled. He slid a hand under her, moving it down her back to cup her right buttock and squeeze.
“Yes,” she encouraged as she slid both of her hands down to her husband’s fine firm buttocks and squeezed. “Yes.” The ecstasy grew. She was so close to reclaiming the delicious delirium he’d shown her on their wedding night. No pain could compete with this. “Yes!” she cried out as he pushed her over the abyss to where nothing existed but pure pleasure and mindless abandon.
Alexander groaned, thrusting faster, then locked his arms as he lunged forward, burying himself deep inside her to pump and spill within her. He tensed, then jerked and pulsed with another groan. Shaking his head as thou
gh struggling to recover from his own ecstatic fog, he shuddered above her, gasping as he bent and pressed his forehead to hers. “Did I hurt ye?” he panted.
“Only in the verra best of ways,” she assured with a nuzzling kiss to his mouth.
With the greatest care to keep himself from brushing flat against her, Alexander pushed himself to one side and collapsed beside her. He snugged his head against hers as he gradually caught his breath and returned to normal breathing. “I canna believe two stab wounds didna prevent ye from making love to your husband.”
Catriona rolled to her side, propped her head in her hand, and grinned down at him as she tickled her fingers across his chest. “'Tis your own fault, m’love. The ache I had for ye was fearsome. Much stronger than any cut of a knife.”
“Ye're a rare woman, Catriona,” Alexander said as he pulled her down for a proper kiss.
“Ye're rarer still, Alexander,” she whispered. “And I thank God ye're mine.”
He pulled her to him and settled her back to her resting spot in the dip of his shoulder. “I thank God ye're mine as well.” He’d never admit it to her, but he’d needed this. The touch of her. The scent of her on his skin. He’d needed the ecstasy of spilling himself inside her and hoping like hell they’d seeded a son or daughter. A new life to fill her womb and round her belly. He needed hope.
She’d spoken rightly when she’d said they’d know Campbell’s rage as soon as his men had doused the fires and taken stock of their stores. He brushed a kiss to her sweat-dampened temple and held her closer. At least they’d had this night. A smile curled across his lips. Stab wounds or no, she’d been determined to make love to him. What a braw fiery woman she was, and she was all his.
Her breathing had already evened out, and she’d gone limp beside him. Catriona only relaxed this much when she slept. He stared up at the ceiling, the gentle shift and flow of Catriona against his side as her breathing eased in and out calmed him. If only they could be this way forever, lying in one another’s arms, their greatest worry being whether they’d planted the beginnings of a child and would it be a son or a daughter.
The Chieftain: A Highlander's Heart and Soul Novel Page 23
