"Paris, let me have some whisky will you? I've had twinges of toothache all day," complained Shannon, "and I must be rid of it before the Harvest Festival on Saturday. God, we've got something to celebrate now!"
"Mmm, I can taste the roasted oxen now," exclaimed Troy. "The feast always reminds me of oxen. The delicious smell of the meat roasting on the spits all day permeates the whole castle and makes your mouth water."
"Well, I'm off to see the cargo is safely put to bed. I'll send one of the lads with a barrel of whisky from Balantine's. It came as a sort of bonus." He grinned, then left.
Troy marveled, "By God, he's one step ahead of everybody when it comes to scheming."
Shannon shook her head. "Paris isn't like ordinary people; so it seems unreasonable to expect him to play according to standard rules."
"Ah, well"—Troy winked—"no guts, no glory!"
Alone in his bed, Paris's thoughts traveled over a wider range than they had all day. He chuckled as he thought of the men waiting to arrest him on the English border. A strange chill went up the back of his neck as he thought of Abrahams's revenge. He was certain Abrahams knew his identity, and when he found the fox had slipped the trap, his vengeance would be terrible. If he could, Abrahams would bring him low. What means could he use? The girl, of course. If he suspected she was Magnus's daughter, a visit to the earl would be his first move.
Paris knew he had no choice. His time had run out. He must get to Magnus before Abrahams. It was time to unite father and daughter and disclose the truth of parentage. He longed to bind Tabrizia to him before he entrusted her to her father. He wanted her loyalty and he wanted her love. Up to now, he'd made a bad job of it. Well, it was now or never. Tomorrow he would bind her to him forever, so she would cling only to him. He wanted all or nothing.
CHAPTER 8
Mrs. Hall, carrying a breakfast tray for Tabrizia, beamed as she heard the pleasant voice behind her.
"What a beautiful morning, Mrs. Hall. Allow me to open the door for you."
Tabrizia was surprised to have Paris come to her bedchamber, and was thankful she was up and dressed.
His eyes moved down her slender body and back up again. He licked lips gone suddenly dry. If he could waken each morning to this fresh, lovely flower, he would ask no more of life. He cleared his throat and set forth his plans for her. "My Uncle Magnus, the Earl of Ormistan, is giving a dinner party this evening. Since I am a guest, you will have to be one also, as it would seem you try to run away every time I turn my back."
"Lord Cockburn, I am honor-bound to do so. I would be a poor creature indeed if I did not try to prevent such extortion. It is my duty to hinder your conspiracy whenever the opportunity. presents itself."
"You and your damned duty," he flared, "you carry it ever before you like a bloody beetle rolling a ball of dung!" He saw her eyes go from lavender to dark purple, realized the sparks were about to fly, and cursed himself for a clumsy fool. He held up his hand, dragged a chair forward and sat down before her. "Let me begin again," he said in a persuasive tone. "It would give me the greatest pleasure to escort you to dinner tonight at Tantallon Castle. Tabrizia, I know you have had the pleasure of few parties in your life. I promise you will enjoy it excessively. In the old days, when the countess was alive, I remember some of the balls they gave were legendary. Of course, this is not a ball, just a dinner party, but getting-dressed up for a glittering evening's entertainment always gives a woman pleasure, and I cannot think of anyone I'd rather spend the evening with."
Tabrizia couldn't help picturing herself in the setting he described. It would be exciting to go to Tantallon and actually dine with an earl.
"Does the earl know about me?" she asked suddenly.
Paris hesitated. "Well yes... and no."
"You rogue. You've told him only what you want him to know," she accused.
"That's true," he confessed. "Why don't you tell him your story?"
"I intend to do so," she warned him.
He laughed. "He is in for a surprise." He turned to Mrs. Hall, who stood listening to their every word. "Good, then it's all settled. Pack her an overnight bag, Mrs; Hall." In spite of her years, Mrs. Hall was half in love with him. His wishes became law the moment they were expressed. "We'll be leaving in early afternoon. Sometimes the fog closes in on that mountain between here and Tantallon."
After he left, Mrs. Hall made a moue with her lips to show how impressed she was. "Imagine, dining with the earl! I'm going to order hot water for yer bath, and we'll do yer hair in a really elegant style."
Tabrizia sighed. "Mrs. Hall, I came so close to escaping in Leith yesterday, but there are so many of these damned Cockburns, while I was eluding one, another caught me!"
"But you would have missed this lovely visit to Tantallon," exclaimed Mrs. Hall.
"Yes," rejoiced Tabrizia dryly, "how fortunate my plans were ruined." Actually, Tabrizia was excited in spite of herself. She felt thrilled to be going to a party and also felt a deep curiosity about Tantallon and its occupants. She had the inexplicable feeling that something was going to happen. The anticipation grew as her imagination winged its way toward the coming event. As Tabrizia sat dreaming before the fire, absently toweling her arms and shoulders, Mrs. Hall talked nonstop. "This is a perfect occasion for those lavender silk underclothes ye've never worn. They're at the very bottom of yer trunk. You have a lavender silk gown to go over them, too. Ah, lassie, yer so lucky to have such lovely things."
Tabrizia shivered. "Don't you think it's a bit chilly for lavender silk?"
"Och, don't be so daft, child. Ye'll wear a traveling gown and yer warm cloak. I'll pack the silk dress for ye. Now you rest yourself, so yer young legs will be fit for dancing all night, and ye mustn't eat too much for lunch, maybe a little broth. Ye mun leave plenty o' room for the feast they'll be serving."
By three o'clock, Paris was ready to depart. The afternoon was closing in fast, and the air had a sharp nip to it Tabrizia's overnight bag with the lavender silk and her toilet articles were strapped onto a packhorse along with Paris's things. The hood of her cloak had been carefully drawn over the coiffure Mrs. Hall had spent most of the afternoon perfecting.
Paris, wearing his sheepskin vest beneath his cloak, didn't seem to notice the chill in the air. As he helped Tabrizia up into the saddle, his hands lingered on her waist, and she looked down into his dark eyes and happily noted his admiration plainly written in them. She knew she was wicked, but she felt happy to be with him.
They rode swiftly from the castle yard and down the hill, then headed up the sea road through Dunbar. Now, as they climbed ever higher, the fog rolled about them, drenching them with its heavy wetness. Total darkness fell in spite of the early hour, and Tabrizia became alarmed as she lost sight of his horse up ahead. She spurred ahead, making her hood fall back. The wet fog made a shambles of her neat curls. Her fingers were numb where she clutched the reins; her feet in the small riding boots were stinging from the cold, and all in all she was experiencing the most miserable ride of her life.
Suddenly, Paris was riding beside her. "Are you warm enough?"
"Yes, thank you," she lied miserably, then asked hopefully, "Can't we go back?"
"'Tis not much farther, just down the mountain. Are you sure you are warm enough?" he insisted.
"Yes... no, I'm freezing;" she confessed.
"I'll take you up before me." He stopped and fastened her mare's reins to the packhorse, then, with one swift movement, lifted her from the saddle and set her in front of him. The top of her head only reached to his chin. He felt very protective of her as he reached down to wrap her cloak about her more securely and pull the hood about her heart-shaped face. His lips brushed a gentle kiss across her temple, and as she raised her softening eyes to his, their gazes met and held until his mouth was drawn slowly to hers. For once, she did not pull away but allowed his lips to fuse with her own until they burned. As he spurred the horse forward, her heart began to sing. She was mad in love
with him; she could deny it no longer. She felt warm and secure now that she was here against him. This was where she belonged. The fierce wind came from behind, but his shoulders were so wide, she was totally sheltered.
A wild strand of her hair blew across his cheek. It gave him such a pleasurable sensation, he promised himself he would bury his hands and face in her hair before the night was over. He must guard against his accursed temper. He had her gentled now and knew it would be a simple matter to woo her; she knew nothing of men. He put his warm mouth close to her ear. "If you move back against my body, my cloak will be able to go around both of us," he tempted.
Blushing, she moved back against him and felt the hard muscles of his thighs on either side of her.
He drew in his breath sharply as she moved guilelessly between his legs, snuggling against him. He enfolded her with his cloak and allowed his hand to brush against the full curve of her breast. Her breath caught, as his had, and desire ran along all the nerves of her body as it became aroused for the first time. Her senses swam with the nearness of him, then she heard him speak low.
"'Tis such a bad night, there will likely be no party. People won't come out in weather like this. You're not sorry you came, are you?"
She tried to look up at him. She couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, but she could feel his strong arms about her and hear the steady thud of his heart against her cheek. In spite of the fact that her clothes were drenched and her feet quite numb with cold, she was not sorry she had come with him. She was in love. She would rather be here under his heart than anywhere else on earth.
Tantallon's entrance consisted of two gates and two bridges, but Tabrizia was only dimly aware of her surroundings in the darkness. Paris knew exactly where he was going. His man, whom he had sent ahead earlier in the day, was waiting for him at the entrance to the courtyard. Paris dismounted quickly and handed his man the reins.
"Everything is prepared, yer lordship."
"Good lad. I'll use the outside stairs. See to the horses for me." Paris reached up and lifted Tabrizia into his arms. Effortlessly, he mounted the stone stairs that led up to his chambers. He set her on her feet while he unlocked the door, then drew her inside quickly. "Come and be warm, love."
The room was so inviting. The blazing fire reflected in the red Spanish leather upon the walls. Tabrizia came into the chamber slowly. She could see the table laid for two with candles and wine in goblets. She spoke slowly. "There never was a dinner party, was there?"
He looked down at her from his great height. "Only for the two of us. Sweetheart, I wanted you to myself for a while."
She blushed deeply at the intimacy of the situation. Her heart beat so rapidly, her breasts rose and fell quickly with heightened awareness. When his hands took off her wet cloak, she trembled when his fingers brushed her shoulders. He sat her in a great armchair and knelt down to remove her boots. He rubbed her feet briskly.
"You are frozen. Let me take off your wet stockings," he said, reaching up her leg.
"I'll do it," she said shyly, her lashes sweeping down to her cheeks. All her skirts were soaking about the hem.
"This won't do; you'll have to take off your wet clothes. I'll get you a robe. Your things will soon dry."
She put her hand on his arm and realized his doublet was also soaked. You are wetter than I," she commented shyly.
"I'll get two robes." He smiled. He came back with soft, white woolen robes and held one out to her. "Through that alcove is my bedroom. Go and put this on and fetch your clothes back to dry."
The bed, set on a dais, was a massive four-poster with velvet hangings, the kind she had always imagined a king would sleep in. Her silk underclothes were quite dry, so she slipped the robe over them and carried her gown and petticoat back to the fire. The woolen robe was far too large; she had to hold up the hem so she wouldn't trip over it.
He insisted she have the spacious chair before the fire once again. He had donned the other robe, and his doublet lay across an oak chest, along with his other clothing. He wrapped her feet snugly in the excess length of the robe and turned back the enormous sleeves until he found her hands, which he raised one at a time to his lips.
Tabrizia was at a loss for words. She had never really been alone with a man before. She marveled how at ease Paris seemed, as if it were natural for them to be here alone this night, already half-undressed. He was so handsome, her heart turned over in her breast. His dark red hair curled damply against his neck. The white robe, negligently knotted about the middle, lay open to the waist, revealing the broad, muscled chest, covered by the mat of dark red hair. Even though she felt shy, her eyes were drawn again and again to the darkly attractive face and the wide shoulders.
He went over to the table and brought the goblets of wine over to the fire. "This will warm you, but just sip it or you will fall asleep after being out in the cold so long." He stretched his great length on the rug before the fire and gazed up at her.
Self-consciously, she put her hand up to her damp tresses. "My hair must look a mess, and after all Mrs. Hall's work, too."
"It's in such wild disarray, my heart skips a beat every time I look at you." He chuckled.
"These rooms are very beautiful. It's no wonder you like to visit Tantallon," she marveled.
"Perhaps it will be mine someday," he mused.
"It will be yours, it suits you so well," she said seriously.
"You too seem to fit the setting," he murmured, his eyes caressing her face.
The whole world had receded, along with everyone in it, as if he were the only man, she the only woman alive. With his eyes upon her, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think!
"The wine is making me quite giddy. Perhaps I should have something to eat." She knew it was Paris's close proximity making her giddy.
"We don't need to sit at the table. Let's eat here by the fire." He got up effortlessly to see to the food. "Let's see now, there's grouse, mutton, cheese, even plover's eggs. I'll give you some of each; you must try everything," he insisted. He brought a huge linen napkin and spread it on her lap, then handed her a heaping platter.
"I'll never eat all this," she protested.
"I hope not. Some of it's for me," he replied, sitting at her feet and helping himself with his fingers. They both enjoyed the informal meal immensely. It was filled with spills and laughter and feeding each other. When they had had enough, Paris put his head back against her chair and stretched his legs to the fire. "Thank you for indulging me. I have always wanted someone special to share things with. For years I have dreamed of a soul mate who cared about me more than any other person in the world. Someone who would worry about me while I was on a raid, who would run to me like a wild thing whenever I returned. One who would share my plate, my bed, my inner thoughts."
She said softly, "One you could share your fears with in the middle of the night?"
"I fear neither man nor beast."
"I do," she whispered. One tear ran down her cheek as she said hopelessly, "Paris, whatever am I to do about my husband?"
He waved his hand in dismissal. "You are not to worry about it. We will get the marriage annulled, love. 'Tis a simple matter, really, seeing it was never consummated."
"You'll forget about the gold?" she beseeched softly.
He slowly took hold of her hands. "I'll take care of everything. There's no need for you to worry about anything or anyone."
"Oh, Paris, even if I had no husband, you are still wed to Anne," she persisted.
He raised her hands to his mouth. "Hush, love, don't distress yourself. I'll divorce her and send her back to Cardell. In truth, I won't be satisfied to have you as mistress. I want you for my wife as soon as I can be rid of her."
"Paris, promise me you won't do her any harm. We could not live with ourselves if we had her blood on our hands!" she cried, her eyes filled with apprehension.
"I could," he said simply, "but I don't suppose you could, my little lamb." He drew her down
to his lap and held her against his heart. She trembled at his touch, her pulses beating so frantically, she could feel them in her wrists and temples and throat. As he held her secure and safe, without making further advances, her trembling quieted, and she began to relax in his warmth.
He lifted his goblet to her lips, then drank from the same place upon the rim her lips had touched. They drained the loving cup between them. He held her possessively, as if she would belong to him forever, and it soothed the emptiness she had always felt. His arms, so strong and protective; the fire, so warm and hypnotic-- all lulled her into a state of drowsiness. She lay against him without moving and gazed, trance-like, into the flames. Very slowly, he began to brush back the tendrils from her forehead. His lips brushed her eyelids along her cheekbone until they found hers, then he fastened his mouth to hers in a kiss that brought her out of her drowsiness with a start.
"Tabrizia, will you be the one to share all things with me?" he begged hoarsely.
"Ah, yes," she breathed.
"Exchange vows with me now. Promise to be mine forever, forsaking all others."
"I promise, Paris, I promise."
He slipped the emerald from his hand and slid it onto her finger. The ring was much too large for her, so he slipped it onto her thumb and kissed the palm of her hand. Then his lips turned fierce, his hands became hard upon her body; indeed, everything about him turned suddenly hard. He removed her robe, and she saw the color of his eyes darken with desire at the revealing lavender silk. He tore the filmy garments easily with urgent hands, exposing her naked beauty to his eyes and mouth.
Alarmed, she began to struggle, for with sudden clarity she knew what he was about to do with her. He fastened his avid mouth to her breast, hurting the sensitive nipple in a flood of passion that he could not control. He had waited so long, longer than he'd ever waited for a woman before, that now all restraint was gone as his body sought the final goal.
Wild Hearts Page 14
