He fed on her mouth as if he wanted to kiss her into hating him. Instead the kiss fueled her feelings, and with equal fervor and anything but aversion she responded. If this was his punishment, she wanted more … and more … and more.
Tynan’s lips and tongue plundered and took, asking for everything in an erotic dip and retreat dance. His kiss gave tantalizing a new meaning; nothing had ever felt so damned good. A soft moan left her throat as the unmistakable proof he wanted her pressed against her stomach. Alenna arched against him, wanting to feel his hardness. God, yes. If she admitted it, she wanted his hardness inside her. A heat imploded in her stomach, letting her know her arousal went deep.
Suddenly he broke away from her, jerking back as if shocked by electricity. His face flushed, and his chest heaved. His eyes blazed with the knowledge he’d given her something hot and forbidden. For several moments she couldn’t move, and when she did it was only to lean against the wall.
"Why did you do that? she asked, the daze in her mind drifting slowly away.
He didn’t answer.
"Please, Tynan. Tell me—"
"Why? Why do ye want to know all about me? I’ve forgotten Glenfinnan and why I left there. Why can’t ye?"
"Because I could understand you—"
"Why do ye need to understand me?"
"Because I care about you, that’s why!"
As soon as the words parted her lips, she regretted them. If he knew she cared, he had the power to hurt her. To use her concern against her.
He passed a hand over his jaw, looking bewildered by the way the kiss and her statement had effected him. He took a deep breath and exhaled, as if a burden dropped heavily onto his shoulders.
"It was six years ago. She was but five-and-ten. We belonged to two different clans, and my cousin Angus was courtin’ her. Angus was mean and hard and dinna know how to love a woman. He hit Mary once when she refused his attention."
"Oh, Tynan," Alenna whispered. This explained his fierce protective attitude toward women.
"Mary kept meetin’ with me and soon we were in love. I begged her not to become betrothed to Angus, but she wadna defy her father who wished her to marry Angus."
A shudder went through his body, and she thought she saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes. "We became lovers, and she came to me one day to say she carried my bairn. I wanted to marry her. She agreed, and went to break her betrothal. Sweet Mary believed that Angus wadna want her any longer if he knew she’d been unfaithful and carried my seed. She’d be free to marry me."
Tynan stopped. Pain etched his eyes with a muddy, deep agony. Dark pain for Mary and for himself. When he spoke again, his voice halted and hardened, as if he could force down the agony if he tried.
"He killed her."
Three words, said slow and solid.
"Tynan." She reached for his shoulder and pressed, wanting to give him what comfort she could.
"I was in a rage ye canna imagine."
Alenna could imagine, but she said nothing.
"She was found at the home he was makin’ for her. His claymore … ’twas found at the site with her blood on it."
"What happened then?"
"He ran the night he murdered her. I thought to hunt him down like the animal he was and kill him."
"You didn’t?"
"Her maither and father begged me not to go. They had seen Angus’ rage and thought he might kill me. I dinna care. I thought of nothin’ but takin’ his life, as he had taken hers. I tracked him into the deepest, most dark area of the Highlands, but he escaped. I searched for him for months, but never found him. He disappeared like a wraith."
"You never heard about him again?"
"I heard some months later he had been killed in a fight over another woman. Wad that I could have been the one to kill him." His voice thinned, and for a single moment she imagined he might let go of the rage. Drive his fist against the stone wall behind her, impel the well of hate and repressed fury into oblivion. He leaned against the wall, once again bracketing her with his arms. "Now ye ken about Mary."
Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. He didn’t need her to cry again. He didn’t need to see her empathetic reaction to his loss. But it hurt her to see him in this mental pain. A suffering that had festered for years.
"I should have gone with Mary to speak to Angus," he said.
"Tynan," she said softly. "You couldn’t have known Angus would kill her."
"I should have gone with her. She wad be alive today." He stepped back from her. "Let us seek Caithleen. She needs ye."
As they left the privacy of the little alcove, Alenna felt as if she’d altered and aged. Wiser, though perhaps no stronger, she’d discovered her past pain meant nothing in comparison to what this man had endured. He’d come through solid and determined. A survivor. She could only hope she would fare so well and be so strong in the days to come.
* * *
Like the baron’s heart, the donjon was colder than a Highland snowstorm. A tomb awaiting the arrival of the newly dead.
Although used to the brutal elements of the Highlands during winter, Tynan felt the chill like a death sentence. If he’d taken to fancy, the eerie feeling might swamp him like a bad dream, drowning him in the evil he sensed simmered below the surface of his lordship’s noble title. He wished he had the facts to expose the baron for what he was. Instead he’d waited and waited to gather the evidence of the man’s true nature. He’d yet to succeed.
Tynan waited in the antechamber off the bedchamber that served as the baron’s personal quarters. He was worried about Clandon. Obviously the baron planned something concerning Alenna and Caithleen, and Clandon’s fate might be a part of that plan.
Caithleen would lose her status as the baron’s concubine. Tynan became more certain with every moment that Alenna would be the baron’s new mistress within days.
As he waited for the baron to appear, he recalled the kiss he had shared with Alenna earlier in the day. She’d provoked him with her pushing, her boldness. Yet this very boldness set him off; more and more he lost control when he was with her, unable to reject her. She drove him mad.
When he’d pressed her against the wall, he’d wanted to lift her skirts right then and press deep inside her silken warmth. Take her until she cried out, and he felt the hot clasp of her pleasure. But despite this ramming need, he reigned in his lust with a reminder that Alenna didn’t belong with him, and if he took her she would surely die … just as Mary and Florie had died.
Even so, he realized he fought for more than Clandon and Caithleen. He fought for Alenna’s favor.
There. He’d admitted it. When it came down to it, he should want Alenna to hate him. Yet everything within him tightened with pain at the thought she might think ill of him. Aye. Her response to his kisses said she did not hate him, and for that he was grateful in some small part.
Tynan smiled. He was more than confused—he was bluidy mad! How many times had she inferred that she thought him a barbarian? Yet when he kissed her—
He heard footsteps coming toward the chamber and tightened his hand on the dagger at his waist.
"Tynan."
Tynan turned and bowed as the baron came into the room. "My lord."
The baron had dressed as if ready for the assembly. "May I offer you refreshment?"
Tynan strode forward until he stood within a few short feet of the baron. "Nay. I have little time."
A barely imperceptible nod tilted the baron’s head. "Then pray tell me what brings you here."
"Clandon. He is in the dungeon."
"Aye. He was caught stealing bread from the kitchens and shall be punished."
"I would ask for the boy’s freedom."
One of the baron’s eyebrows twitched, but the rest of him remained still as marble. "On what grounds?"
"He is a truthful boy and wadna steal."
"But he was caught with bread from my kitchen in his hands."
Tynan pressed his suit. "Did y
er lordship see him do it?"
The baron stiffened, his face going indignant. "Nay. You would not find me near the kitchens."
"Then who accuses him?"
Tynan saw it … a slight slip in the austerity of the baron’s facade. A resentment at the questioning.
"Kitchen servants," the baron said.
"And what witnesses are these? I wad speak with them."
"I will give you no names. I will not have witnesses alarmed."
Taking another tack, Tynan said, "I plead then for mercy. As a boy, he has no the understandin’ of a man. Though I give him money, ‘tis no much. Sometimes he finds himself hungry. Ye can see from his bony body he gets little to eat."
The baron cracked a chill smile full of satisfaction, deceit, and no regrets. "You are most generous. But then, I have known this of you for some years."
"If yer lordship shows pity, all in the castle will ken ye are a merciful master. If yer lordship would allow me to take the boy as my ward—"
"Enough!" The baron’s expression stiffened even more than Tynan thought possible.
Tynan knew everything came down to a battle of will or of birthright. Perhaps both. Tynan wondered if he might find himself in the dungeon with Clandon this night.
The baron strode about the room for a few moments, then went to a window to peer out, as if he could see the whole world through the little slit. Everything in his bearing said that the world belonged to him.
"I think not," the baron said, his voice flat.
He turned and flashed a harsh smile. "Many who would have pleaded for the boy would be in that dungeon with him right now, for challenging my authority. But you have always served me well. Give me no reason to doubt that loyalty."
Tynan knew when his battle was lost. Haste or further argument would make matters worse. Time to retreat and come back with another attack, at another time.
Tynan bowed. "Aye, my lord."
With that solemn agreement, Tynan left the room.
* * *
Alenna slipped the kirtle and surcoat of blue over her head and smoothed it down with her fingers. As she arranged the band and veil on her head, she wished for a mirror. She enjoyed the clean scent of lavender soap, thankful Caithleen had an extra piece of the soap to give her. Nothing had felt better than rinsing her hair over and over, after a good scrubbing with the soap.
She thought she might freeze to death in the cold room before she got her hair dry, but she couldn’t stand to let her hair go more than two days without a wash.
As she fastened the veil under her chin, she realized lack of conveniences became more a way of life the longer she resided in this time. So much had changed since she’d dropped through time into this bizarre place, it seemed far more than a month had passed. Less and less did she think of Demi and her other friends back in the twentieth century. Even her connections to Caithleen and Elizabet became tighter, more meaningful than those relationships she’d had in the twentieth century.
In truth, she hadn’t thought much about going back to her time at all lately.
Why?
She knew why, but admitting it didn’t come easy. No. No. She couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t say it.
Tynan.
Alenna took a deep, shuddering breath and tried not to think about him.
Reluctantly she put on the heavy necklace the baron had given her. As the large garnet nestled between her breasts, the heavy, cold press of the necklace felt like a harness. A stamp of ownership. Skin prickling in distaste, she walked to one of the windows and watched the light drizzle come down outside. Winter seemed well upon them. Tonight she’d need the cloak Tynan had given her.
Tynan. Damn him. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Contemplating the man set her blood on fire, in more than one way. She felt a driving need within her to see him. Touch him. And yes, if she really admitted to herself … kiss him again.
Alenna turned away from the window with an impatient sound.
After what had happened at the dungeon and after that hot kiss, she experienced a tug of need that made her wonder what Tynan was doing, where he was, what he was thinking.
If nothing else, the last kiss he’d given her had sealed her fate. Her need for him grew every time she saw him. How did she stop these feelings and strange needs that flowed through her every time he came near? How?
Like a piece of wood caught in the vortex of a tornado, he drew her to him, but Tynan drifted from extreme to extreme. Sometimes he seemed a tender and giving man … other times a cool, hard, unforgiving warrior. Yet her trust in him had heightened tenfold after his care of her at the dungeon. The tender way he’d held her in his arms, his story about Mary … it had broken down barriers and let her see into his soul. Somewhere, in that hard shell of a man, love remained.
Determined, she forced her mind away from thoughts of Tynan and back onto what would happen tonight at the assembly. Tynan’s refusal to help her set up Dougald and Caithleen hadn’t deterred her from the goal. If he wouldn’t help, she’d make sure Caithleen made it clear to Dougald during the party that she wanted him. Although hesitant to be so bold, the girl had acceded to Alenna’s assurances of success.
Certain Caithleen might escape the baron’s clutches for a fortnight, Alenna began to fear for herself. What if he picked her tonight? The idea sickened her. What the hell was she going to do?
Caithleen entered the room, her feeble smile a poor attempt at masking her true feelings. Tension had etched lines into her face, disguising her youth, dark circles marring the beauty of her eyes.
Frantic for news of Clandon when Alenna first returned to the donjon, Caithleen admitted the baron had thrown Clandon into the dungeon when she’d talked back to him one too many times to suit him. He’d hit her when she’d pleaded for her brother’s safety. She acknowledged that her pleas drove the baron into a rage and he beat her across the back with a switch. Soreness made it difficult for her to move.
Hearing the situation made Alenna’s stomach churn with rage, nauseating her, and she worked hard to calm down. Even now the anger ate at her like a wild beast.
"Aye, but that’s a lovely dress," Caithleen said. "Tynan will take one look at ye and pick ye as his partner."
Alenna scoffed. "I’m not important tonight. The goal is to get you away from the baron."
Plucking nervously at her long hair, which hung loose down her back, Caithleen cast a glance at the door. "Do ye think this will work? If he hurts Dougald, I dinna think I could live with it."
Reaching for her young friend’s shoulders, Alenna spoke firmly. "Dougald is tough."
"Tough?"
Alenna smiled. "Strong. A warrior of superior strength."
Caithleen looked into the air, a dreamy expression erasing her apprehension and replacing it with a porcelain smile. "That he is." Caithleen touched the necklace around Alenna’s throat, then jerked her hand back as if she’d received a bite. "‘Tis an evil thing."
"You know I don’t want to wear this necklace."
"Aye. ‘Tis as ye say. He commanded ye to wear it. Ye had no choice."
Alenna sighed. "I had a choice, but if I didn’t wear it, God knows what he’d do." She gave Caithleen the brightest smile she could. "No. I think I’ll do well to stay away from men tonight. Or any night from now on."
Caithleen’s smile said she didn’t quite believe her.
* * *
CHAPTER 16
Tynan’s gaze swept around the great hall. As minstrels played a song, loud laughter and chatter rose high to the cathedral ceiling. Couples danced about the room, their steps intricate and precise. The sounds of revelry reached an annoying din.
All the merry making did little to expel the gnawing jealousy building within him. Since the assembly had started two hours ago, Alenna had barely spared him a glance, dancing first with one man and then another. Now she danced with the baron.
Tynan sat at one of the trestle tables and brooded, as the men around him la
ughed and eyed the women they planned to take for a fortnight. Swinging his gaze in Alenna’s direction, he watched as she danced awkwardly, obviously unsure of the steps. Still … tonight she looked …
Enchanting.
Did she have any idea how she made him feel? He was jealous of the material that clung to her long arms, her breasts and waist. He watched the material fishtail, sweeping the floor as she danced. She looked bluidy happy, grinning like a wee jester!
With jealousy came a streak of despair.
Their last kiss showed she desired him, but he wanted more. He felt he knew her well, yet knew her not at all. More than a burgeoning need for her body, he had a need to learn things about her she had yet to reveal.
After his audience with the baron proved useless, he wallowed in a helplessness he hadn’t felt since Florie’s death. A spike of pure mental agony wrenched his soul. He could not let the same fate befall Caithleen and Alenna as had befallen Mary and Florie. He hadn’t protected them from the evil that rotted men’s hearts.
His fingers clenched his wooden goblet, and he was half tempted to go to Alenna and rip her from the baron’s arms. To take her away from the danger hovering over her like an ax at the executioner’s block. Damn her! Ever since she’d appeared like a ghost in his life, his ability to see a clear goal, to know what do next, had been frayed.
Tynan glared at the goblet in his hand like an enemy, realizing he needed his wits about him more than he needed wine. Formulating his goals, he straightened his back. If he continued to fail in his duty, in his convictions, his life would be worth nothing.
Somehow he had to keep Clandon safe as well, and this meant getting the boy away from the area entirely.
How could it be arranged?
If Alenna wasn’t careful, the baron would take his base heart and wretched needs—
Damn him to Hades! And damn himself for feeling this infernal desire for Alenna. The baron’s heart might be made of stone, but Tynan’s heart turned to bluidy mush whenever she came within his presence. He closed his eyes and remembered her words.
If you never have love at least once in your life, you have nothing. Even if you lose it.
A Bridge Through The Mist Page 19
