TamingaHighlandDevil

by Kimberly Killion

  “Ye might have warned me about the wax,” she scolded him with little effect.

  “I might have.” He grinned and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. As they lay in a tangle of slick limbs, she rested her cheek on his chest and waited for her misgivings to return.

  But they didn’t.

  Everything about this felt right—the way their bodies curved together, the way their hearts beat in unison. ’Twas all so…perfect.

  He caressed her hair. “Why did ye change your mind?”

  She rose up and stared at him, searching for an answer. She could hardly tell him she’d been protecting Vanna. Not that it mattered now. He’d made his decision. He’d chosen Effie. Vanna was sure to be angry at first, but Effie vowed to find her sister a suitable husband. Whether she intended to be faithful to that husband would be up to her.

  “Effie?” He coaxed her for a response.

  Effie offered him a reason he would likely believe. “I wanted to know if I was still desirable.”

  He pulled her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her palm. “Did your husband no longer find ye desirable?”

  She didn’t want to answer his question. She didn’t want the warmth of their union tainted by the memory of Gavin’s infidelity.

  “Effie?” The man was damned impatient.

  She attempted to separate herself from him, but he held fast to her hips. “I dinnae want secrets between us.”

  Effie only stared at him.

  “Was your husband auld when ye wed? Was he good to ye? Did he pamper ye with gifts?”

  “Why do ye want to know all of this?”

  “Because I’m competing with his memory.”

  Effie blew a breath and settled back atop him. “I was verra young when we wed, barely fifteen winters. Gavin was my father’s seneschal, and I was given to him as a gift for his loyalty. He was twelve years my senior, but we were a good match,” she admitted, remembering a time when she’d been proud to be Gavin’s wife.

  “Did ye love him?”

  “I loved him verra much.” Unshed tears burned her eyes, sorrow tightened her throat. “I was faithful to him. Then he strayed from our marriage bed while I was carrying Leena.” A memory flashed through her mind’s eye—Besse, blonde and beautiful, lay over a barrel in the armory, her skirts balled atop her back while Gavin took her from behind. “I blamed myself for not holding his attention. I was sick with guilt and jealousy and anger. ’Tis why Leena came early.”

  Effie suspected the day she held Leena’s small lifeless body was the day vengeance took hold of her heart. “I blamed him for our daughter’s death and he begged for my forgiveness.” A tear slipped over her nose as the memories filled her head. “I will always regret not giving it to him.”

  “Because of the babe?”

  “Aye, and because of what I did after that.”

  “Go on,” he prodded her when she held silent.

  “Gavin begged me not to tell my father, but at the time, I felt betrayed and wanted to see him pay. I wanted to see them both pay.”

  “The woman too?”

  Effie nodded against his chest. “The woman’s name was Besse. She was my father’s second wife, Vanna’s mother. Da ousted her from the clan and sent Gavin to the border after I exposed their affair.” Her tears came fast and hard. They rolled over her nose and dripped onto his chest. The guilt had never felt so raw. “My son went with him and they both died in a raid.”

  “Ye are not to blame for their death.” He hugged her tight.

  Her bitterness killed them. Her inability to forgive was the reason she no longer had bairns to hold. She sobbed against his chest until the emotions dried themselves out.

  Magnus rolled her to her side and wiped her cheeks. “I need to know if ye changed your mind because ye hold your sister responsible for her mother’s transgressions?”

  Effie shook her head, but even she could admit there was a morsel of truth to his statement. Though Vanna bore no resemblance to Besse, she was a constant reminder of how much Effie had lost. “I’m here because I no longer wish to be alone. I want a husband and a family. I want to start anew.”

  Magnus pulled her mouth to his and kissed her with a passion that made her believe he could give her what she wanted. He made love to her until dawn slipped its lighted fingers between the furs covering the window slits, then he tucked her into the curve of his body and allowed her to dream of the life he promised her.

  A thunderous pounding on the door jarred her awake hours later. “Maggie! ’Tis bluidy noontide!”

  Who in the bleating hell is that? Exhausted, Effie reached behind her to wake Magnus, but the bed was empty.

  * * * * *

  Effie bolted out of warm covers and tottered on unsteady legs. Her aching body protested her attempts to dress while the woman on the other side of the door continued to shout demands at the top of her lungs.

  Effie pushed wild red locks from her face and tried to control a temper that was quickly rising. She was ready to cut the woman’s tongue out by the time Effie ripped the door open. “What in God’s name is all the fuss about?”

  Magnus’ mother stood on the other side cloaked in a blue and green arisaid. Her dark eyes rounded instantly. “Lady Reay!”

  Oh bleating hell. Effie’s gut fell to her toes.

  If Satan’s wife had a name, Effie suspected it might be Lady Katherine Sutherland. After all, this was the woman who’d spawned the Devil of Dunrobin. The stories Sylvie had told Effie made her more than wary, especially since Lady Katherine hadn’t troubled herself to speak more than two words to Effie since her arrival. She didn’t know whether to bow or throw herself out the nearest window.

  Lady Katherine covered her nose with the scrap of linen clutched in her bony hand, no doubt repulsed by the scents of lovemaking wafting out of the solar. Her gaze flitted over Effie’s shoulder toward the unmade bed. “Where is my son?”

  “He’s not here,” Effie stated the obvious, feeling very small in this woman’s presence.

  Accusing black eyes swept over Effie’s disheveled attire from her mussed hair to her bare toes. “I will send a maid to assist ye with your morning ablutions. When ye are presentable, I wish to speak to ye in the chapel.” She spun on her heel and disappeared into the corridor.

  Effie fell against the door as she shut it and emptied her lungs in a long exhale. She knew she would have demons to face. At least she would face this particular demon in God’s house. With any luck, Magnus would return before she had to face the devil.

  He did not.

  As Effie entered the dank chapel, she vowed to tie him to the rafters and beat him with a switch upon his return. Of course, he would likely enjoy such a punishment.

  Shaking her head, she pushed the wicked thoughts from her mind, smoothed the pleats of her borrowed kirtle and positioned herself next to Lady Katherine in the front pew. “Ye wished to speak to me, m’lady.”

  “I want ye to leave.” Lady Katherine’s façade was as cold as the air seeping into the chapel.

  “I have no intention of leaving.” Effie drew a breath of courage. “I’m going to marry your son. He has chosen me to be his wife.”

  Lady Katherine’s eyes remained fixed on the stone crucifix hanging over the altar. “He will hurt ye. He will not be faithful to ye, and will most likely die before he can teach his sons to wield a sword.”

  Foreboding coiled around Effie’s spine. The woman managed to collect all of Effie’s fears in a single sentence. She was cruel and callous and heartless. The indignation that heated Effie’s blood came as a surprise. What right did this woman have to speak to her with such malice? “Are ye predicting my future, or retelling your past?”

  Lady Katherine’s chin snapped over her shoulder. “Do not begin to think ye know anything about me or my past.”

  Effie had lived long enough to know a number of people who thrived on sharing their misery. Lady Katherine was one of them. “Mayhap ye should enlighten me.”<
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  “I have dedicated my life to serving this clan. I bore four sons to an unfaithful husband and I’ve buried three of the four.”

  “It seems we have more in common than ye think, Lady Katherine.” Effie shared her hardships with the woman, hoping to gain her empathy, but she wouldn’t bend.

  “Ye have suffered a great deal which is all the more reason why ye should leave and protect yourself from future afflictions.” Lady Katherine’s lips pursed. She was mulish and bitter. In truth, Effie pitied her.

  “I wish ye felt differently and can only hope time will lessen your animosity toward me.”

  “At your age, time is not something ye have an abundance of. Ye jeopardize the livelihood of my people because ye fancy yourself smitten with my son. You’re a selfish, foolish girl.” Her insults pushed Effie over the edge.

  “Nay, I am a woman who is wise enough to know I have no wish to end up alone like ye.”

  A vein pulsed in Lady Katherine’s temple, her jaw pinched tight. She stood and looked down her nose at Effie. “Ye have been duly warned, Lady Reay. Ye tell your brother we will not fight his war until Clan Sutherland has a male issue.”

  Effie’s face puckered. “What war?”

  “The war against Clan Ross.” Lady Katherine raised her skirt and strode out of the chapel.

  * * * * *

  Magnus dismounted his destrier and landed in a snowdrift that reached his thighs. He was freezing, exhausted and on the verge of deciding this had been a fool’s quest. Moonlight glittered off a blanket of snow and lighted the way to the kirk. He should have been back to Dunrobin by now, but the two-day ride to Saint Duthac had taken six.

  He sighed, now regretting not telling anyone where he was going, but he’d wanted to surprise Effie. With a gloved fist, he banged on the doors and decided it would be worth the trek. It would please Effie to be married by a priest in the church.

  “But I would wager she is cursing me now.” He patted the neck of his trusted stallion and thought of the night he’d spent making love to Effie. While those memories had kept him warm on his journey, they hadn’t filled his belly.

  A small iron plate slid open on the peephole, then shut, just before the arched doors opened inward with a whoosh.

  “Laird Sutherland!” Father O’Rourke protected his nose and mouth from the harsh wind and urged Magnus inside. “What are ye doing traveling in weather like this?”

  “I need a priest.” Magnus removed his gloves and blew hot air into his cold hands.

  “Are ye dying, laddie?” Father O’Rourke held his lantern high and inspected Magnus for wounds.

  “I’m not dying, Father. I’m getting married.”

  “Come.” Robes flowing, Father O’Rourke led Magnus to the rectory and instructed a young boy to tend his horse. Magnus peeled away his outer layers and accepted a bowl of warm barley from an elder matron while Father O’Rourke lowered himself into a high-back chair beside the hearth. He scratched his white beard and gave Magnus a disapproving look. “Is the girl with child?”

  “I hope so,” Magnus answered honestly. He held no desire to lie to a priest. There were enough sins on his soul.

  “Why the urgency? Why would ye risk so much to fetch me in this weather?”

  “I have my reasons.” Magnus warmed his hands by the fire. “For one, I wish to have our union blessed to legitimize a male issue, should my new wife be fortunate enough to give me one. For another, it has been well over a year since your last visit to Dunrobin and we’ve a great number of bairns who are awaiting baptism. And lastly, my kinsmen are in need of confessions, for I fear we may be faced with another war soon.” As much as Magnus hated the thought of going up against Clan Ross, he feared there was no other way to appease Ian Mackay.

  The auld priest fidgeted with the rosary hanging from his belt. “Who is she, the girl?”

  “Ian Mackay’s eldest sister, Euphema Reay.”

  “Effie?” Father O’Rourke leaned forward in his chair, his bushy white brows furrowed above his pale eyes.

  “Aye.” Magnus nodded and smiled as pride warmed his chest. “Ye know her?”

  “I buried her kin, each and all. Forgive me for saying so, but isn’t Effie a wee bit beyond her years?”

  “Nay, she is not.” Magnus’ scowl must have been fierce for the priest eased out of his chair and moved to stand behind a pine desk.

  “Effie is afflicted by her past. She has many ghosts chasing her.”

  “Think ye I dinnae know this?”

  “Do ye?” Father O’Rourke’s disdainful look was one Magnus had seen many times before on Mam.

  He blew a frustrated breath. “I dinnae just bed her if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  “’Tis exactly what I’m insinuating.” The man no longer looked afraid. His desire to protect Effie gave him a sizable pair of bollocks. “I dinnae wish to see her hurt, again.”

  “Nor do I.” Magnus crossed his arms and awaited the priest’s next words.

  Father O’Rourke angled his head and twisted his lips this way and that. He contemplated long moments before he finally responded, “Verra well, then. We will travel to Dunrobin at first thaw.”

  Magnus stepped forward and leaned over the desk, intentionally trying to intimidate the man. “Forgive me, Father, but I am not willing to wait so long. We leave on the morrow. And dinnae think I won’t tie ye to my steed, because I will.”

  Chapter Six

  “Lady Reay! Lady Reay!” Lainie and Laura raced through the kitchen holding their plaid skirts off the flour-dusted floor. “Come quickly. Uncle Maggie is back!”

  Oh thank heaven! Effie’s entire being sank with relief. She threw the dough she’d been kneading onto the work table, wiped her hands on her apron and rushed out of the kitchen behind Magnus’ nieces. Now that she knew he was safe, relief shifted to anger. He’d abandoned her for fourteen bleating days and she had no idea where he’d gone. No one knew where he’d gone. Not even Lady Katherine.

  Years of insecurity had her fretting from dawn to dusk. She’d tried not to let her worries consume her, tried not to assume he’d left to prepare for Ian’s war, but each night, after she’d made love to him in her dreams, she awoke to the horror that he might never return. That terror had been so familiar, she’d almost taken Lady Katherine’s advice and returned home. Effie didn’t know if she could bear the upset of losing her heart to another warrior, but feared the deed was already done.

  It hadn’t helped that she’d suffered her monthly courses. Knowing she’d failed to conceive an heir hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lady Katherine’s maids, which gained her no favor with Magnus’ mam. The woman remained cold and aloof toward Effie, but flaunted her approval of Vanna before the Sutherland kinswomen. The two had become thick as thieves, planning, plotting, preparing for the future. They’d toured the grounds together and were already making arrangements to renovate the lady’s solar in the west wing. Sylvie and Jocelyn had been Effie’s only confidants, and for that she was grateful.

  Thunderous footsteps filled the stairwell as Magnus’ kin rushed to the Great Hall. The hum of excitement buzzed in Effie’s ears as she half walked, half jogged through the maze of corridors.

  Then a thick brawny arm reached between the blue velvet curtains of an antechamber and snatched her off her feet. Darkness blinded her. Panic stole a beat of her heart, but she quickly recognized Magnus’ scent and the strength of his arms now coiled around her.

  “I missed ye fiercely, Effie.” His mouth came down hard on hers and matched the intensity of his embrace.

  For a brief moment she succumbed to the power that was him and only him. She surrendered to his kiss, his touch, his demanding hands, then she cupped his jaw and found the thick beard that had grown in his absence. Her temper surged out of the trenches of desire. She pushed him back. “I know about Ian’s war.”

  His heavy breathing filled her ears and warmed her face. When he continued to hold silent, she became further incensed. If he though
t for one moment she would stand idly by while he played the martyr, then he didn’t know her at all. “I demand to know where ye’ve been.”

  “I went to fetch a priest.” He flattened her against the wall then feverishly untied the laces of her undertunic. “I intend to be faithful to ye, but I suspect ye would not believe such an avowal lest I speak the words before God and His clergyman.” He lowered her bodice to her waist. “This pleases ye, aye?”

  “Aye.” She smiled, flattered by his intentions. It did please her. She parted her lips to tell him so just as his hot mouth formed over her nipple. Strings of arousal pulled taut from behind her breast to her sex. “Magnus!” She scolded him even as she pulled him closer. He massaged one breast while he drew the nipple of the other repeatedly between his lips.

  Her eyes rolled beneath her closed lids. Her body warmed, tingled, tightened. Oh, that felt good. He felt good.

  The clicking of booted heels sounded just outside the antechamber.

  “Everyone is waiting for ye in the Great Hall,” she whispered and squirmed against him.

  “Let them wait.” He snaked his hand under her kirtle and swiped his fingers through her damp curls. “I want ye.”

  She wanted him as well, and nearly gave in to the ferocity of his invading fingers, but she was still a mite bit miffed at him for leaving without telling her. She clamped her thighs together, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked him off her breast. “I’m angry with ye for leaving me without telling me your plans. If I am to be your woman, ye cannae just do as ye wish when ye wish it. Ye were gone fourteen days. Where did ye go to get this priest? England?”

  The growl vibrating in his throat should have been a warning, but she only pulled his hair harder, waiting on an answer.

  “The weather lengthened my journey to Saint Duthac,” Magnus responded in a raw graveled tone as his hands settled on her hips beneath her skirt.

  “Saint Duthac? Ye fetched Father O’Rourke?” She loosened her hold. Father O’Rourke had been her rock when Gavin and Bretton died.

  “Aye.” A rustle of clothing followed his reply.