Highland Knight

by Hannah Howell

"Undoubtedly,” he whispered, his voice a little choked as her chemise fell around her feet followed by her braies.

  He chewed on a thick slab of bread as he watched her wash herself. The sight of her slim, lovely back had him aching for her. Clearly, he was much improved, he thought, as he took a deep drink of wine that did nothing to cool his blood.

  She was acting as if they were still lovers, he realized, frowning. That made no sense, for he had almost completely ignored her for a week. She should have seen nothing less than a cold, clear rejection. Of course, the way his errant body had reacted to her bathing him gave the lie to his pose of disinterest. Perhaps, he mused, he needed to tell her very bluntly that the affair was over.

  Cameron stared at her as she joined him at the table dressed only in her robe, her thick, dark-golden hair tumbling wildly over her slim shoulders. She smiled sweetly at him. For reasons of her own, she was apparently going to treat his actions of the past week as nothing more than a sulk, a bad mood. As they ate, he continued to watch her, feeling arousal tighten his body, and an anticipation of the sweetness he could find in her arms setting all his nerves to tingling. The more he watched her, the more his passion rose and the more he began to think himself an idiot to give up what she so freely offered until it became absolutely necessary.

  "What game are ye playing now, lass?” he finally asked, made wary by her good humor after she had suffered the sharp end of his bad mood for days.

  "Game?” A very asked as she crossed her legs. She made no move to adjust her robe when it fell open to expose her legs all the way up to the middle of her thigh. “Why do ye think I play some game?"

  Tearing his gaze from her slim legs and trying to forget the urge to lick them from toe to hip and back down again, he gave her a mildly disgusted look. “Because, after the way I have acted this last week, a lass with your spirit ought to be wanting to bash me o'er the head. Instead, ye cure my illness, clean me up, feed me, smile at me, and tempt me."

  "Ye were being ill tempered for a purpose, were ye? I thought ye were just brooding."

  "I wasnae brooding."

  "Oh? What do ye call it, then?"

  "I was just reminding myself of the treacherous nature of women.” He was not surprised to see anger sharpen her gaze.

  "One could be unkind and point out that if one deals only with whores and adulteresses, one is a fool to expect honor and truth."

  "A good, sharp hit, lass."

  "Thank ye."

  He realized that her words did not anger him because he had already reached the same decision himself. The thought that she might think him a fool, even only in passing, pinched quite sharply, but he shrugged it aside. Men and women had been made fools over each other far too often. Cameron took comfort in the fact that he had at least learned from past failures.

  "They were nay all whores and adulteresses,” he felt compelled to tell her. “One was the lass I was betrothed to, a lass of high birth and, supposedly, a chaste body and sweet nature."

  "Ye were married?” Avery wondered why, when she could shrug off the thought of lovers from his past with relative ease, she should find the thought of his betrothal or marriage so deeply upsetting.

  "Nay, only betrothed. She seemed accepting of the marriage. A fortnight ere we were to be wed, she came to stay at Cairnmoor with her mother, her servants, and a few of her kinsmen, including a distant cousin named Jordan."

  "And?” she prompted when he fell silent and scowled into his goblet of wine. “They were lovers, her and this Jordan?"

  "Oh, aye, and he was no cousin, either. Nay, he was the son of an old, bitter enemy of my father's. The two of them planned to use the wedding celebration to slip his men into my keep and take it from me. My family, most of my men, and of course, myself, the poor besotted groom, were to be killed. They had already slipped a half dozen of his men into my home and begun their dark work. Six of my people were missing ere I noticed something was wrong. Later we found their bodies weighted with stone at the bottom of the moat."

  And ye blame yourself for each one of those deaths, she thought, wishing she could take his guilt away. “How did ye find out what they were planning?"

  "I went to her bedchamber, saw Jordan slipping inside, and set my ear against the door."

  She winced. “And discovered those who say eavesdroppers nay hear any good about themselves were right?"

  He smiled faintly. “True. I heard their plans and the fates of my missing people. I also heard that my bride was verra pleased it would all be accomplished ere she actually had to wed or bed me. She was terrified that this dark, scowling devil might actually touch her fair skin ere he was killed."

  "Ouch. I suppose she preferred fair-haired, bonny young knights who cut the throats of the ones who welcome them into their homes.” She was pleased to see him grin at her sarcasm. “'Tis sometimes difficult to see beneath the smiles and sweet words. The flattery feels so nice, one likes to believe in it. At least when I learned how easy it is to see what isnae there, I didnae have to worry about saving my clan as weel as my pride. What did ye do?"

  "Shut the gates, gathered up the traitors, and, when his people arrived, hanged the lot from my battlements. His people left."

  It was harsh, but she knew he had given them a far more merciful death than many another would have. “E'en your betrothed?"

  "Nay. I put the fear of the devil in her and her womenfolk and sent them home.” He studied her closely for a moment, then abruptly asked, “Who lied to ye, then, lass?"

  "Oh, just a lad. Just before I went to France, my parents took me to court. I think they hoped 1 would find a mate there. Let us just say that I didnae have the laddies tripping o'er each other to kiss my slippers. There was one lad, however, who showed me a marked interest and, ne'er having been wooed and flattered before, I will confess that I was moved by it. I heard some talk of his being one to seduce and abandon a lass, a rogue who spent more time rolling about in a lass's arms than in doing any work at all.” She shrugged. “I told myself that all young lads indulge themselves in such ways ere they settle down with a wife."

  Cameron knew how this tale would end and had to resist the urge to tell her not to finish it. He knew his tastes were not odd in any way, so he could not understand how other men failed to see her beauty, to see the promise of a rich, passionate fire in her lithe body. It did not really surprise him to feel an urge to find the young man she was speaking of and beat him soundly. After the incident with Sir Charles, he had come to accept that he felt very protective of Avery.

  "That wasnae the way with this lad?” he asked.

  "It may be, but I wasnae the lass who would be stopping his wandering ways. He wasnae verra discreet, was carrying on with a wedded lass e'en while he wooed me. I chanced upon them trysting in the garden. She expressed some jealousy o'er his attentions to me. It was soon revealed that his attentions to this too-thin lass with the strange eyes were due to the beauty of her dower.” She smiled when he winced faintly. “I decided that what I wanted was not to be found at court."

  "And, of course, he was fair and verra bonny."

  She laughed softly. “He had black hair, skin as fair as milk, and blue eyes. I discovered that fair skin bruises most lividly,” she murmured. “The lady's husband asked me if I had seen her when I returned to the great hall from the garden."

  "Wicked lass.” He toasted her with a brief lift of his goblet.

  "Aye, though ‘twas wrong to let my wretched pride lead me. The husband might weel have killed them both. The lad took a dangerous beating as it was, for he was neither tall nor strong."

  "Odd. The lasses usually favor the tall and the strong."

  "Ah, but from what I heard said that day, he had something else to interest the lady. His lover said he had a verra big—"

  "Avery,” he warned, giving her a repressive look even though he felt like laughing.

  "Dinnae fear. I didnae take a look to confirm her claim."

  "How weel-behaved of you
. Ye arenae too thin, lass, and those eyes of yours may be an odd color, but they are beautiful."

  "Thank ye, kind sir,” she said. Her voice was light and playful, but a faint blush stung her cheeks. “And I find I have a true weakness for braw, dark knights.” She winked at him.

  He set down his goblet and held out his hand. It made him feel dangerously good when she put her hand in his. With a sigh that was a mixture of pleasure and resignation over his weakness for her, he tugged her down onto his lap.

  "Ye are feeling better, are ye?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly when he began to stroke her legs.

  "Aye, much better,” he replied as he licked the pulse point on her neck.

  "Nay more brooding?"

  Leaning back, he sighed and shook his head. “Nay. Ye cannae expect a mon to take it weel when ye tell him that someone hid his child from him, didnae e'en christen or name the poor wee lad."

  Avery supposed that was Cameron's attempt at an explanation for how he had been acting, and probably the closest to an apology she would get from him. “Nay. It was cruel. And crueler still for those people to set a bairn out in the wood to die."

  "Because he was as dark as the devil, so black of hair and eye he had to be the devil's own child, and the mark upon his belly was the proof of that curse.” Cameron's voice was harsh, rough with a bitterness he could not hide.

  That, she suspected, hurt most of all. She would not be surprised if it stirred up memories of hurts, insults, and rejections from the past. Cameron was certainly not the bonny, blue-eyed knight many a lass dreamed of. He was dark as sin, moody, and not very good at giving a lass sweet words and flatteries. It would probably surprise many to learn that she could love such a man, but she did—probably far more than was wise. He was her black-eyed knight, her dark-as-sin chevalier. She stroked his strong jaw and wondered how women could fail to see the beauty of his strong, dark features or be intrigued by the mystery of his dark eyes.

  "Then I must be a verra big sinner,” she murmured, “for every time I see that wee mark upon your fine belly, I feel nearly compelled to kiss it.” She felt him tremble faintly beneath the hands she had placed upon his chest.

  Cameron had to clear his throat before he could say, “Ne'er let it be said I denied my lady whate'er she wished."

  Avery liked the way he called her “my lady,” she decided as she slid out of his lap and knelt between his long legs. “My lady” was how she wanted him to think of her after he sent her away. My lady who made his bones melt with her passion. My lady who, with every touch, every kiss, revealed her delight in his big, strong, dark body. It would be a nice legacy, she mused as she kissed her way up one strong leg. It could also be a memory sweet enough and strong enough to last even when he had sent her back to Donncoill, compelling enough to make him find some way to get her back.

  She stroked and kissed his legs until she felt a fine tremor ripple through him. Raising herself up on her knees, she untied his robe. Avery kissed his taut stomach, his hips, his ribs, the top of his strong thighs, everywhere but where she knew he wanted her to. Finally, with a light tug upon her hair and a few hoarse mutterings, he let her know that he had had all he could endure of her sensual teasing. She laughed softly and gave him what he wanted.

  Cameron clutched the arms of the chair as he watched her love him with her mouth. She was getting very good at it, instinctively knowing how to keep him teetering precariously at the very edge of a sweet madness. The way she so freely gave him this pleasure, so obviously felt pleasure in the giving of it, only enhanced the delight. He wished he had the strength to enjoy it for far longer, but after only a few moments, he knew he had to stop her.

  A soft gasp of surprise escaped Avery when he stood up, grasped her under the arms, and set her down in the chair. She murmured with pleasure as he pushed open her robe and feasted on her breasts. His hands and lips became the tools of a sensuous torture. Only when he knelt before her did she feel modesty cast a faint, cooling shadow over her passion.

  "Nay. Too bold,” she protested softly as he gently stopped her from pressing her legs together.

  "I didnae deny ye any part of me,” he said against her inner thigh.

  "Men are a brazen lot, I think."

  "Ah, lass, ye are beautiful here. All gold and silk and sweet, sweet honey."

  It took little more than a stroke of his long fingers and a kiss or two to banish her modesty. He took her to the heights with a ruthless speed. Avery quickly realized he had done so on purpose so that he could now toy with her as he pleased. She closed her eyes and struggled for control. Shameless and wanton though it was, she loved his intimate play. Once more he drove her to the pinnacle all lovers strive for. When it seemed as if he was going to do so a third time, she protested. Delightful as this sort of loving was, she needed to feel him inside her, craved the union of their bodies. She did not want to go it alone again.

  Cameron grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out of the chair. Slowly he set her down upon him, easing himself into her body as if he had all the time in the world, as if they were not both shaking with need. Avery looked at him as she clung to his broad shoulders. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. There was a look of such pleasure upon his face, an expression of such intense anticipation, that she felt her own passions soar. By the time he had completely joined their bodies, her release was already beginning to swamp her. With a few hard thrusts, Cameron soon joined her in that paradise.

  Avery collapsed in his arms, not surprised when he sprawled onto his back on the floor. She felt so wrung out, she was amazed she had the wit left to keep on breathing. If this was the sort of thing her parents had been indulging in for over twenty years, it was a wonder they were still alive. It did explain the large size of her family and, she thought with a little smile, those heated looks followed by unexplained disappearances. A sharp rapping on the door yanked Avery from her thoughts, and she suddenly stared at the door in horror, praying she had remembered to bolt it.

  "Avery,” called Gillyanne, “come and look at the stars."

  When she heard Gillyanne skip away without even waiting for a reply, Avery collapsed back into Cameron's arms. “I think I already saw them, just now,” she murmured; then she smiled when Cameron laughed, causing her to bounce gently on his chest.

  "Come along, lass,” he said as he sat up, set her aside, then stood. “I want to go out there and test this potion of yours."

  As she started to get dressed, Avery said, “Where ye stand on the ship doesnae make any difference. If ye drink the potion thrice a day until we reach land, ye should be fine."

  "Do ye have enough herbs to make such an amount? Ye said that nearly half my men are ill."

  "A large amount can be boiled up using but a few handsful of herbs, and not all of your men were as ill as ye and Leargan. Some just need a day, mayhap two, to become accustomed to a ship. A dose or two was all they needed. Anne recalled the ones who were quick to settle as weel as those who suffer for the whole journey."

  "'Tis a vile cure,” he said as, once dressed, he moved to help Avery finish lacing up her gown, “but ‘tis nay as vile as the illness.” He lightly braided her hair, then tied it with the ribbon she held out to him. “Come, let us go and see why Gillyanne feels we must look at these stars."

  Avery let Cameron take her by the hand and lead her out of the cabin. He had returned to being passionate, playful, even friendly. His brooding was evidently over, and if it had been his intention to hold a distance between them, he had obviously changed his mind. It was not easy, but Avery held her tongue. Her pride rebelled at the way she was allowing him to apparently set her aside and pick her up again as the mood struck him, but she bludgeoned it into silence. She promised herself, however, that, if she and Cameron ended up together, she would teach him that explanations and apologies would not really hurt and left no scars. Women who did not get them from the men in their life, however, did.

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  Chapter Seventeen

  "I hadnae realized just how deeply I had missed Scotland,” Avery said as she stood on a rocky hill beside Gillyanne and surveyed the surrounding countryside. “I swear, but one day here and I e'en feel different."

  "Hmmm. Cold,” Gillyanne drawled, hugging her cloak more tightly around her.

  "Ye have no romance in your soul."

  "I do. It just doesnae tolerate being frozen by a north wind."

  "What ye need is some more fat on your wee bones."

  Gillyanne rolled her eyes. “Look who is giving me that advice. A lass who could be knocked over by a good strong wind."

  "I am still standing despite being pounded by this gale.” Avery tucked back behind her ear a strand of hair that had been tugged free by the light breezes. “I think I must have gained a few pounds."

  "Oh, aye. Why, if I didnae ken that ye had your woman's time whilst ye were ill, I would think ye were with child, ye have grown so plump."

  "Do ye ken, I think someone could truly be hurt if they were pushed down this hillside.” Avery gave Gillyanne a narrow-eyed glare, but her cousin just laughed. “I wish we were headed to Donncoill,” she added softly as she watched the MacAlpins set up camp.

  "I ken it.” Gillyanne slipped her hand into Avery's. “We travel to Cairnmoor first."

  Avery nodded and fought down an urge to weep. “I havenae changed his mind."

  "Ye cannae and ye ken it. He thinks his sister a woman wronged and our Payton the one who wronged her. Unless Payton has willingly come to marry the lass, ye will be used to bring him there. Our fathers and brothers, all of our kinsmen, would do the same. The only difference here is that we ken that this girl lies. She will use her brother's sense of honor and love for her to get her our Payton as a husband. I hate to keep slapping ye with these hard truths, but ye must keep them in mind or ye will only add to whate'er hurt ye suffer o'er this."

  "Then why am I trying so hard to make him love me?"

  "Because ye love him. And, for what will happen afterward. For making his heart ache enough to look for answers, open his eyes enough that he may see that his sister is lying. For making him want to come after you no matter what happens between Katherine and Payton."