by Nicole Locke
She was starving, yet wary.
Yesterday, when he’d left the room for food, she’d forced her grief back inside her, knowing soon she would be home, that only then she could let it free. But it still clamored inside her.
When Caird handed her some food, she took the offering, but avoided touching his fingers. His earlier caresses still felt like they skimmed across her skin. Those traces only increased her uneasiness, and she didn’t know what more of his touch would do to her.
‘We leave today,’ Caird said, finally turning his gaze to her.
They had both eaten until there wasn’t any more food and the break in the strained silence felt ominous.
When she saw his shuttered expression, she knew to ask, ‘Where to?’
He walked to the far wall and leaned against it. ‘To my brother and laird. A decision must be made about the jewel.’
This was why she was wary.
‘I’m not going with you to see Laird Colquhoun. My home’s not more than a short ride away. You’ll be leaving me there!’
He shook his head. ‘You will stay with me.’
Arrogance and kidnapping again. But this time, he had the jewel and her family had the dagger. They didn’t need each other.
And it...complicated things when she was with him.
‘Why do I stay with you?’ She stood and brushed crumbs from her hands. ‘I need to return to my family.’
‘Your family is safe because they know nothing of the jewel. If you return, they’ll know.’
She swept her arm, felt the pull of her injury and pressed her hand to the spot. ‘I would never tell them.’
‘Aye, and do you think the Englishman would care? He’d kill you first, and so you’ll stay with me.’
His grey eyes searched hers until it felt like they could see every uncontrollable emotion inside her. She also knew if he kept watching her like that, her emotions wouldn’t, couldn’t stay inside her.
‘I ken none of this. Haven’t I hurt you enough? At the inn, in the forest, at the river and—’ she gestured around them ‘—even here, I’ve hurt you. Let me go!’
‘Aye, you’ve hurt me! But it’d hurt—’ He stopped.
‘But what?’
‘We’re different,’ he said, pushing away from the wall. ‘Even if you refuse to see it. We’re different than we were at the inn, in the forest and it would hurt me more if something happened to you!’
‘You think you care for me? Why? Because of a few kisses, because I saved our lives, because you tended a few injuries. You can’t care for me. You doona know the truth.’ She drew herself in, braced herself to admit her guilt, her shame, her never-ending mistake. ‘Because I killed my brother.’
Mairead’s eyes were tortured, showing the exact look he’d seen before she’d fled in the forest. Like then, he wanted to comfort her, but he knew she was a hair’s breadth from running now. So, he willed his feet to remain still even though her eyes troubled him far worse than before.
‘I killed him,’ she continued, walking away from him and around the bed. ‘It was all my fault. He wanted to wait for another market, another day to sell the dagger. To wait, just in case the man he stole it from would return for it.’
She laughed harshly. ‘But I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t wait. Impulsive you call me? Aye, I am! I was too eager to repair and hide my brother’s gambling. Too desperate to end the nightmare before further damage could be done.’
She paced now. ‘So he did it,’ she continued. ‘He went, even though he was being reasonable. Even though he knew it was dangerous. He did it for me! When they surrounded him, he never had a chance. I watched his agony, his death and knew it was all my fault! You want me with you to keep me safe. But you need to let me go. I doona think before I act and I make murderous mistakes.’
Caird held still, knew he had to hold still. So he watched pain and guilt tremble through her even when all he wanted was to hold her and fight all her fears.
But she was finally telling him what he needed to know to understand. She was giving him answers. So he did what he did best, and stayed quiet.
‘You want the jewel, thinking to save Scotland?’ she continued. ‘Keep me with you and see how I interfere! How, somehow, I would cause more deaths, more war!’
Caird felt something unfurl in his chest. This was her secret she’d kept from him. She thought she had caused her brother’s death. This was her pain and why she fought him. Why when he insisted they were different, she didn’t accept him. Why she wanted to forget.
He could never forget why he wanted that jewel. ‘You think I did this because of political reasons? You doona know why I risked this.’
‘Did you kill your brother, too?’
He knew the pain she was in. When his had been fresh, he’d lashed out as well.
But he had brothers, a sister, the support of his clan. Her brother had died and she had no family with her now. By forcing her on this journey, he denied her the comfort she should have received. He deserved her hatred.
But she needed to understand more. He deserved not only her hatred, but his brother’s as well.
At Dunbar, he had rescued Malcolm, but he could never forget the argument they’d had before his brother went. Nor would he forget overturning dead bodies until he found Malcolm buried beneath a corpse. Carrions were already picking the flesh of the body. Barely alive, his brother didn’t fight when they picked at him as well. Malcolm lived, but he would never be the same.
‘I didn’t kill my brother, but I might as well have,’ he answered.
Her eyes widened before she recovered. He didn’t want her to recover, or to mantle herself in anger and guilt any more.
‘Using that jewel was never about Scotland. After Dunbar, I just wanted the power to end the war. I wanted it for Malcolm. You saw his scar.’
He just held in his helpless rage. That scar. It was only thin because of the finest sutures and care. Some of it would even fade. Malcolm had been unconscious, but when Caird had seen it, the wound was wide open.
‘I couldn’t find him for days because he was trapped under a corpse. There were flies...’ He shook himself. ‘Carrions.’ There had been other scavengers as well, human ones, for Malcolm’s sword and boots had been taken. ‘Nae, Mairead, I didn’t kill my brother, but I will never forget he had gone to Dunbar alone. Because I refused to go with him.’
He could see Mairead’s anger falter at his words. Horror and pity flickered in the dark depths of her eyes and her lashes were spiked from tears. Then she jutted out her chin and stopped the tears from falling.
‘But he survived,’ she said stubbornly.
She was stubborn, but she cared.
He could see that she cared. It was there in the trembling of her lips. It had been there before the village, when she’d let him hold her all night. When she’d told him she knew he’d come for her.
She had feelings for him, but she didn’t want them.
‘Aye, he survived,’ he said. Somewhere in all her hurt, he wanted her to recognise him, recognise them for what they were now. But she blindly held to her doubts and fears. ‘And you’re still nothing but a deceitful, lying Buchanan.’
Fury blazed in her eyes. ‘How dare you!’ She stepped forward, her hand rising to slap him. He didn’t move, waiting for her to take the remaining steps. He deserved it.
He’d even welcome it. Maybe it would help release some of her grief. He wanted to share her grief because he wouldn’t stand for anything separating them.
‘Aye, a liar, Buchanan,’ he repeated. ‘You know we’re different now than at the inn, than in the forest. You know we’re different because you saved my life and told me of your brother, even though you didn’t have to. You could have bargained differently with the Englishman. At the river, you recognised
we were different when I swam the water to get to you! You responded to me, were giving yourself to me. Because you wanted me!’
‘Lust is different.’
‘From what?’ he pressed.
‘From this caring for each other,’ she finished. ‘You think I care for you because I saved you. You think you care for me because you tended me. But it cannot be that way, when I doona want it to be!’
‘Care for you?’ His feet took steps closer to her before he could stop them. ‘Is that all you think I feel for you?’
His eyes searched hers as if he’d never seen her before. As if he’d never see her again. ‘Clever Buchanan,’ Caird whispered vehemently, ‘haven’t you guessed yet?’
Mairead’s eyes, which had always shown every emotion if only he’d look, revealed her again. Because he no longer had his prejudices against her, he saw everything: guilt, anger, hurt, fear, desire. But it was her longing that tugged at him. In her longing he had his answer.
She wanted them different, but she didn’t trust him. No, it was even more than that.
The Buchanan Clan were notorious liars and deceivers. They used it to their advantage and were proud of it. But for Mairead, all those lies and deceits went further. She’d never been shown trust. Not from her own family, her bereaved mother, her giggling sisters or her reckless brother.
Mairead didn’t know the ways of trust. Nor the ways of love. And he did love her, but first she needed to accept the trust between them.
Love. Trust. Two emotions that took lifetimes to understand. He’d learned them from his clan, from his family. He had their love, trust and returned it. She did trust, but she didn’t understand it, maybe didn’t realise she gave it.
He had to get her to listen to him.
But there was only one time she listened, only one time when she didn’t fight or argue or pace away from him as if trying to escape.
And that was when he held her.
Held her...close. Her tiny frame and generous curves, lush and pressing against him. For a man his size, trained until his body gave not an inch, he wanted to be buried in every plush, giving bit of her.
When he held those curves, she listened. She didn’t fight him or argue; she became soft and giving.
When he cradled her closer until she nestled into him, and their breaths were no more than shared gasps of desire. When he could do nothing but feel her soft lips give under his, knowing their kisses were all that he needed and yet only a fleeting taste. Then, and only then, she held still, she listened and she responded.
Her response.
A spike of lust so severe slashed through his body and he forced the air back into his suddenly empty lungs.
Love. Trust. They took a lifetime to understand. But his body wouldn’t let him wait a lifetime to show her.
He knew it was imperative they start that lifetime together. Immediately.
It wasn’t only his thoughts that made him certain. It was Mairead’s own actions. For while he gathered his thoughts, his eyes kept steady on her. Every lush bit of her.
So his desire began with her pacing the small room and it strengthened when she reached one end only to spin to the other. Each spin giving him full, generous views.
His need increased as sunlight filtered through the window and highlighted her dark eyes that contrasted with her creamy skin. Highlighted the rose glow of her cheeks that bloomed in her agitation and, he knew with satisfaction, bloomed and unfurled when he held her.
His lust became greater still seeing her hair. Her hair that made the breath in his lungs burn quickly away with pure need.
Her hair. Unbound and wild. Brushed by his own hand while she healed, it was wilder than ever. The repetitive action had calmed him, but now each lock sprang around her head, defiant, defying and taunting him again.
She might not know what love and trust were, but he did. She might deny it all, but her responding body wanted them to be together. He had the proof with her hair. Her hair beckoned to be shown.
He could only comply.
If it killed him, he’d show her love and trust. And he would show her. Now.
Mairead couldn’t stay still. She’d confessed her mistake and her guilt but Caird hadn’t reacted as she’d expected.
Instead of displaying horror and disgust, he had held perfectly still and silent while she laid bare her shameful mistake.
Then he’d told her of Dunbar and Malcolm. He’d confessed to his own mistake, confessed to his own guilt and shared it. With her.
It shattered what little hold she had.
Oh, how her legs trembled then, how she wanted to believe what she thought was in his eyes. But how could she? She’d made so many impulsive mistakes and everything she felt about Caird was impulsive. She couldn’t trust herself.
Caird said he cared for her. But even in that she didn’t trust herself. Because he sounded incredulous, angered and disappointed, too. So many emotions were displayed in his declaration, she didn’t know what he meant.
And he didn’t tell her. In fact, he didn’t say anything. Absorbing her with his grey-green eyes, he’d become quiet.
Trying to avoid his all-too-knowing eyes, she paced and by the time she stopped she was as far from him as she could be in the room.
She stopped because she felt the change in him. Clear across the room. The way his gentleness and understanding turned to something more. Something like desire, but more than the familiar need. More than the whisper of wickedness that his steady regard usually gave her. Now it was darker and more elemental.
It wasn’t whispering, wasn’t beguiling or coaxing or beckoning.
It was heat and a sheer surge of power emanating from him. It stunned her.
Her feet stopped their pacing before the rest of her body caught up and she lurched unsteadily forward. When she felt his need battering against her back she turned, thinking she could change her stance and become steady again.
So she turned and was dizzy in that turning. Aye, she was dizzy because she wasn’t more steady facing him. She was distinctly more unsteady, wavering and trembling.
Caird’s three steps were all it took for him to be right up against her. That stopped her dizziness. When his eyes flared and his hands curled upon her upper arms, that stopped her unsteadiness.
But his touch and proximity did nothing for her trembling. Her trembling increased.
And his grey-green eyes that had been studying her, trying to find his precious answers, weren’t doing so now.
Now his eyes were filled with desire and determination.
‘We’re different now, Mairead,’ he said. ‘I’m different.’
Grip tightening, he enfolded her in his arms until her cheek pressed against his chest. The only thing she could hear above the roaring in her ears was the consistent, battering beat of his heart.
‘More different than you’ve ever known,’ he said. She didn’t only hear the words; she felt them. They rumbled deep within her.
She had never seen Caird like this, as if he couldn’t restrain himself. Through her trembling, she shook her head to deny his words.
He sighed and she felt the rise of his chest and shoulders, felt the air shuddering into his lungs before he released it.
‘Stubborn,’ he whispered.
She felt that word, too.
He pulled away, just enough to look down at her, but not enough to stop his heart pressing against hers. It was beating as fast, and as hard, and as erratically as her own.
Because he remained silent she looked up to understand him. To see his eyes that displayed more emotion than was good for her.
‘I’m taking, Mairead,’ he said. ‘I’m taking and giving.’ His eyes were searching and finding every bit of her heightened colour and every wayward unruly lock of hair. ‘And I
’ll take again,’ he promised. ‘Over and over. Until you realise. Until you have nae more doubts.’
She didn’t know what she was supposed to realise, not when she was this close to him, not when she felt more than his heat, his breath, his heart. She felt his want, his need, his desire. Felt him pull just enough to bring her up and closer to him.
‘My words are—’ he dipped his head ‘—going to fail me.’ His lips brushed hers. ‘So, I’m going to show you our trust.’
The persuasive pressure of Caird’s lips slanting over hers sent a moan through her body that reverberated between them.
‘Aye, show you,’ he whispered. His lips and teeth sucked her lower lip into his. ‘I’m going to show you trust; I’m going to show you care.’ He repeated the action on her upper lip until her breaths were little pants.
‘I have nae ale; my words will stumble.’ His tongue swept across the seam of her lips. ‘It may kill me—days of wanting, of needing and denying. Now you’re stubborn and demanding my patience. Patience!’ He shuddered. ‘At this moment, I’m less patient and more impulsive than you.’
He increased the pressure of his kiss, just enough, coaxing enough, so when his tongue teased again she met his with her own.
Caird’s hands gripped, loosened.
But he didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, his mouth hovered along her jaw, wended its way to her ear. ‘At the inn, you responded like this. You’re a maid, Mairead, but you responded.’
His tongue, flickering, made tiny movements along the shell and down behind it. ‘’Tis not usual to respond to me as you did.’ Kisses along her neck, trailing down, increasing her trembles. ‘’Tis not usual how I responded to you. Despite the ale.’
He pulled away, his breath just behind her ear. Her eyes were closed; she was afraid his were open.
‘That response was trust, Mairead,’ he whispered. ‘You came to my room to find the dagger and save your family. You were grieving and you kissed me.’
Trembling even more as she fought his words, Mairead gripped the back of his neck and splayed her fingers through his hair.
‘It was lust. Like now,’ she said, her voice broken by her breaths. ‘I forgot everything else.’
