She took the piece. He took a piece for himself, and then another one for her. She chewed on it.
“Do you plan to feed me?”
“Do you wish for me to cease?”
“Nay.” She closed her mouth around the chunk and his fingertip. He pulled free his canteen. Wine filled the leather pouch so the seams seemed near to bursting.
“If I did not know that a highlander is always prepared, I would have thought that you planned this.”
Lachlan glanced about the loch. “Aye, it is near perfect.”
“Near perfect.” Her tone rose questioningly.
“But for the rain.”
She shrugged. “’Tis Scotland.”
“Samhain is approaching,” he said around a bite.
She made a face. “At least, I am not with the Murrays. I would have been most uncomfortable.”
“They will not stare at you for long.”
“But until that time comes…” She shrugged. “You even stared at me.” She peered up at him through the veil of her hair.
He flushed. “Aye, I admit you shocked me when I first saw you. Then again, I was not to blame. The mist was thick about you and you approached me. You fixed your regard on me. I had felt as if you had come for me. Then I realized how bonny you were—are. My heart stopped. It still does when I look upon you.”
“Nonsense, I was nothing but a lass. You nodded, and then I only saw glimpses of you.”
“I was but a boy myself. I stayed away then, not because of you, but for another reason.” He felt the twist in his stomach.
“Truly, why?” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He hated that searching visage. Rowen always saw beyond the act he showed.
“I did not like being around families.” He surprised himself at how the truth had dulled.
“You are around them now.” She flicked her hand as if a dozen families circled them.
He dug his heel into the earth. “I still feel odd in their presence, but it doesn’t make me angry anymore.”
“Most men are jealous of you. You are Laird MacLean’s trusted man. You have respect through the highlands. And I love you.”
That knowledge held no importance since he was not the man wedding her. “Aye,” he said to end this discussion.
He held out another bite for her and his smile returned. He didn’t think he had ever smiled so much. He had spent time with her before, stealing kisses, but this time was different. Though, he would be losing her, he couldn’t stop from feeling he finally had all of her.
With the fish picked clean, he washed his hands in the loch. Bent over, Rowen knelt beside him. Her hair fell across her face. The ends dragged along the surface of the water. He bunched the strands in his hand and lifted it from the water. He tossed it over her back.
She rose, sending him a smile. On the tips of her toes, she darted to the plaid and crumpled onto it. She lifted her hand, waving him over.
He went at her call. He grasped her hand and gathered her close. He cradled her long fingers in the palm of her hand before he turned it over. With the tip of his forefinger, he traced the lines of her palm.
“That tickles.”
He placed a lingering kiss in the center. “Did that tickle?”
“Nay. My skin is tingling.”
Not removing his touch, he ran his hand down her arm as he leaned over her. He angled his mouth over hers. Their lips cradled each other. He just wanted to feel her and the little shock that struck him when she kissed him. This drawn out kiss was the most intimate he had ever shared. It was not about lust. This was pure love…him luxuriating in loving her.
The kiss faded away as if his body knew that it was enough for now. The softest groan of pleasure and displeasure rumbled from her. He chuckled softly.
“You are a wicked lass.”
Her brow arched high. “A lass…I am a woman grown.”
Lachlan peeked at her bosom. “Aye, I see that and am most thankful for it.”
“If you were, you would kiss me again.”
He did. He kissed her chin then trailed soft pecks along the elegant jaw to the tender spot by her ear. He brushed his lips across her cheek then rubbed his nose against hers. He returned to her mouth.
She gripped fistfuls of his hair and kissed him. “Cease teasing me,” she mumbled against his mouth.
In life, he wanted to make Rowen happy, so he did as she ordered. He slipped his tongue between the crease of her lips. The cool, refreshing taste of water filled his mouth. He curled his tongue around hers. Her little moans fueled him. Beneath him, her legs squirmed. Her hips scraped against his own grinding ones. She might not understand the desire coursing through her, but he did and notched up his own.
She kicked her legs free from her leine. He slipped into the cradle of her long legs. Her bare legs writhed against his hips and thighs. He groaned. She slipped her hands under his leine. Her touch danced over his back, never settling on one place but exploring him. A heated shiver raced along his spine. His stomach clenched as he tried to control himself and keep his head. A battle he was quickly losing.
He cupped her thigh. He traced a path over her hips, along the curve of her waist. Beneath his touch, he felt her quiver. It spurned him on. His fingers skipped over her delicate ribs to her breast. Her nipple was peaked, jutting against his palm.
Hell, his hands shook.
His whole body shook.
He bent his head and snagged the peak in his mouth. He lapped circles around the flesh. She arched her back and pushed her nipple deeper into his mouth. Her heart slammed against his lips. His mouth flooded with the flavor of her skin, a mixture of salt and feminine muskiness that was all her.
He had never been so hard. He almost shattered as his manhood rubbed her tender, supple inner thighs. He would not take her. No matter the demanding voice urging him to forget his morals and slide into her and love her.
Nay, he couldn’t. He had that much honor left within himself. Not much control, though. On trembling arms, he rose. Her hair fanned out in disarray. Her lips were flushed and wet from their kiss. Her nostrils flared. Her breasts rattled from her shallow breathing. Her delicate bones were at odds with the power of desire coiling her muscles.
He almost lost his last thread of control and slid into her. Lachlan needed her…needed to be inside her to give himself relief. He had to love her.
He gripped her legs by the back of her knees. He spread her legs wide. Her curls glistened from her wetness. He bent his head and lapped it up. He didn’t know if it was her or him who groaned. Probably both.
He suckled on her nub. It throbbed against his teeth. He licked and savored her feminine flavor. He clutched handfuls of her buttocks and raised her to his mouth. He feasted deeper. Her hands buried in his hair. Her nails dug into his scalp. Good, a physical ache to remind him this could go no further.
The first tremor waved then deepened. Her release exploded into his mouth. The sensation rushed into him and he spilled his seed.
She collapsed back, melted against the plaid. He rested his head on her stomach.
He listened to her heart return to normal. She ran her hands through his hair in an absentminded motion. Between her touch and her steady breathing, his eyes grew heavy.
The first raindrop struck him on his cheek. More and more fell and he saw the drops on her skin.
He lifted his head.
“That feels good.” Raindrops lashed against her bare chest.
A drop caught in the little V of her neck. He snagged it on his fingertip and licked it off.
“We should return.” With much reluctance, he tied the laces of her neckline.
“Not yet. I’m a highlander and I can handle a wee bit of rain.”
He held her close and wrapped his plaid around them both. The wind stirred about them. Rain lashed against him. She snuggled tighter against him. He held her close.
“Rowen.”
She lifted her face toward him. The faucets of her eyes gle
amed and so trustingly held his own. He could see the warmth of her love in the depths. He ached from having her being ripped away from him.
“I shall love you forever. If you ever need me, I shall be at your side. Just call upon me. Now, you may not be my wife by law, but before God, you are my wife. I belong to you.”
Chapter Three
Lachlan stood beside the stable master. Rowen glared at the man. Her lips were pinched which matched her fist resting on her hips.
“Wat were ye doing wen ye injured her?” He turned his sharp gaze on Rowen.
“I was chasing after a stag. I did not injury her. An adder scared her and she stomped it.”
“If it wasna ye, I’d be telling ye that ye didna ken how to ride. She didna fall or stumble and she isna bitten.”
Lachlan bowed his head to hide the grin twitching his lips. Rowen hitched up her chin that she nearly blocked her view of the stable master.
“Nay. I dismounted quickly and made sure she was not hurt.” She bit out each word.
He bobbed his head in curt nods. “She isna hurt but she needin’ some rest.” The stable master scratched his head. “Isna that right, my bonny lass?” He patted the horse on her neck. “Ye can go. I need to make a poultice for her.”
Lachlan rested his hand on the small of Rowen’s back and escorted her from the stable. Actually, he pushed her out.
“You can stop now.” She twisted about and swatted at his hand resting on the small of her back.
He lessened the pressure. “Do you promise not to run back in there?”
“I will not. He insulted me then complimented me. If wasna me”—she took on a thick highland lilt—“I’ll be tell ye didna ken how to ride. So he did not have to instruct me to sit a horse.” She halted in the shadow of the stable. She let out a huff. “He is caring for the horse as his job demands.”
“Good to know. You can be fierce when someone tries to order you about.”
“Fierce. Truly? I would have chosen a different word.”
“That would be…um…beastly. Aye, beastly.”
“I’m still not pleased with your word choice, but I will agree with beastly.”
He laid his hand over his heart. “Thank you.”
Her light laughter rang out. He loved seeing her laugh. Her head fell back and showed off the elegant length of her neck. Her eyes closed. Her mouth spread, releasing the sound. Her shoulders shook in the most adorable way. Lachlan felt a spread of warmth and comfort that was lacking in his life.
The arrival of the hunting party stirred a racket in the courtyard. Castle folk moved aside for the riders. Lachlan put a proper distance between him and Rowen. She folded her hands together and hid them in the fall of her skirts.
Och, they both looked guilty.
Eacharn pulled up. He grinned down at her. Lachlan narrowed his gaze, focusing on his chin. One clip would knock him to the ground.
“I am glad you are well and sad you missed the hunt.” Eacharn hopped from the saddle. His excited energy had him shifting from foot to foot.
She spared Lachlan a glance from the corner of her eyes. “Me as well. I see that it was a success.”
“That it was. I have to tell you all.”
“Come clean up and get something refreshing to quench your thirst. Then you must tell me.” Rowen donned a pleasant smile. The warmth failed to reach her eyes.
Eacharn motioned for her to come along. She fell into step beside him. Lachlan watched them disappear among the crowd. Feeling the weight of someone’s gaze, he turned away from the retreating couple. Caelen stood in front of him and glared down at him.
“Cease with that look. You know how it disturbs me. Your brows are too pale to see and it makes you look like a crazed fairy.”
Caelen continued to glare at him and this time, his nostrils flared. “I told you to stay away from her.”
“You have told me that a lot.” Lachlan crossed his arms over his chest.
Caelen crowded him. “Yet you do not listen. Lachlan, if it were possible I would let you two marry. I order you to stay away because it will only be harder for you both. Love is a great emotion, but denied, it can break even the strongest of men.”
“Brenna really changed you.” He clapped Caelen on his shoulder.
“Aye, I love my wife. If you feel a sliver of what I feel, I know that without it, you will be pained in a way that no claymore could ever afflict.”
Lachlan nodded. Hell, he might cry from both Caelen’s respect and the truth of his words.
MacLean walked up to them, leading his horse. “Lachlan, I have news. Your father’s son has died.”
“What happened?” Caelen asked.
“He fell off his horse.”
“He still has two other sons.” Lachlan shrugged.
“Aye, one sickly and the other thick-headed and lacks sense,” Duncan said. “The clan can come to Lachlan.” Both men looked at Lachlan.
“He is called my father, but his sons are not my brothers.” He shook his head.
“Lachlan, did you not hear MacLean?” Caelen raised his brows.
“Aye, but my father’s sister has a son. They would go to him before me. I am nothing but a bastard.”
Lachlan turned away. He had a life that did not include Rowen or Clan Gordon. But he had days with his love, and that had to last a lifetime for him.
* * * *
The evening meal had finished. Yet, all remained in the hall to listen to the harper. The lyrical pull of the strings soothed Rowen. The harper played a romantic ballad of love lost. She peeked over her shoulder. Lachlan gathered with some men. They seemed to be having a lively conversation though they kept their voices low so she couldn’t catch the words. Lachlan raised his cup and stared at her over its rim.
Her heart jumped. She turned her head when Eacharn looked in the same direction.
“Are they disturbing you?”
“Nay.” She must control herself and cease looking for Lachlan. Her hungry gaze couldn’t stop from landing on him and lingering for a time. Yet with Eacharn, she failed to hold his gaze and that was if she remembered he was near. Eacharn must have realized her behavior since he always caught her staring. She must have shamed him, made him look the fool before his men.
“Do you like music?”
Eacharn leaned toward her. “Aye, my mother had the sweetest voice. She said her singing was the only thing that calmed me. I love hearing the women working. The way their voices carry on the air. I would love to hear you sing.”
“I shall. You must let me know your favorite song,” she said in benediction.
“Perhaps tonight you will sing.” Hope raised his tone.
“If you wish.”
He rose to his feet and skirted the guests then hunched beside Ailsa. He whispered something and she nodded.
She watched his stocky form as he ran. There was a sweetness and an openness to him. He was a kind man. She hoped in time to love him. You cannot.
“After he finishes this one, you shall have to perform for us.” He rubbed his thick, fingers together in glee.
The coil she had in her stomach unwound. The harper pulled the string on the last note. It held about the great hall. Ailsa stood up and spoke to the harper.
“Tonight, we shall have the sweet sounds of Rowen MacKenzie.”
She rose and headed to the front. She stared out at the gathering. Lachlan turned to her. She told the harper her song choice. She cleared her throat and listened to the notes and her cue.
She began singing a tale about a young couple torn apart. Lachlan moved forward a few steps as if pulled by her. He set his cup on a table and fled from the hall.
She blinked and settled her gaze on Eacharn. He beamed at her. At least one person was happy. He rose to his feet as the last note died. He came forward and escorted her back to her seat.
“Beautiful. I may have you sing every night.” He grabbed her hand.
“Only if you join me,” she retorted.
&nb
sp; “Och, I do not think I can sing along side you.”
“If you continue with these sweet words, my head shall swell. Pride is a sin.”
“Then we must pick a worthy song.”
“A ballad about a grand battle, perhaps?” She asked.
“That sounds good.” He sat there, holding her hand as they listened to the harper.
Two songs later, Caelen came over to her. “I must steal my sister.”
Rowen went with him out of the hall until they stood under the star bright sky. “If you didn’t care for my singing, you could have told me another time.” She twisted her lips when he gave no reply. Brenna had lessened his stern demeanor so he generally enjoyed her moments of wit.
“I have told Lachlan to stay away from you. You must do the same.”
“I must do this or that. When can I do as I wish?”
“Not now. You think as Nic Kenzie”—Caelen used her Gaelic surname—“you can do as you wish. You cannot. You have no other choice.”
“You think I do not know that.”
“Then why are you making eyes at him? I know you and he did not return right away from the hunt. I said nothing, but this must end.”
“Do not fear I will wed Eacharn. Just leave me be.” She spun away. He yanked her back almost ripping her arm from her shoulder.
“Nay.”
“You get to spend your life with the one person you love. Yet I cannot even have this time with my own.”
“I didn’t always love her. I married her because father wished for it as I wish for this.”
“As a woman, my wishes mean nothing?”
“Not as a woman. As the daughter of Laird MacKenzie and as my sister, you do not get that privilege. Your life is not your own as the clan women’s are. You have servants and fine clothing and do not have to work the fields, so in return you improve your clan.”
“And Lachlan has nothing to improve the clan,” She said. Her voice shook with unshed tears.
He jabbed a finger at her. “Lachlan is a good man. He is my foster brother. If it were possible, I would let you marry him. I would take you to the church myself. But we know that is not possible. Cease, Rowen, with this hopeful disillusion of yours. I wish you weren’t hurt by this. I don’t like it.”
Highland Scandal Page 4
