Sister of Rogues

by Cynthia Breeding

  “Ye could.”

  She slid her hands down his ridged belly, fingertips lightly teasing his skin. Jamie tried not to squirm. Mari knew he had a ticklish spot and it often provided the means for a good tussle that ended with her pinned beneath him, wrists secured over her head by one of his hands while the other tormented her in much the same way.

  But tonight, she didn’t go there. Instead, she loosened the drawstring and slid his trunks down, sinking to her knees along with them. Jamie closed his eyes and threw his head back as her warm, wet mouth closed over his shaft and she began to suck.

  By God. This was heaven.

  He laced his hands through Mari’s silky hair, cradling her head as he gently thrust forward, establishing a rhythm for her. She circled her clever tongue around his head as he almost withdrew and then she sucked hard as she took more of him. In and out. Suction and swirling. Mari’s squeezed his balls and then tugged on them, establishing a second rhythm. In and out. Squeeze and tug. In and out. Suck and lick.

  Jamie felt his groin tighten, his cock swelling from her efforts. His body began to stiffen. Before he went completely rigid, he withdrew, lifted Mari and tossed her on the bed. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and he plunged himself deep within her. She gasped and he felt her muscles contract, gripping him hard, and then wave after wave shuddered along his shaft as she climaxed, taking him along with her.

  Breathing heavily, Jamie rolled, bringing Mari on top of him, keeping himself buried inside her moist heat. Her legs slid down his thighs as she stretched along the length of him. He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Thank ye.”

  Mari smiled. “You do not have to thank me.”

  Jamie smiled back. “I meant for helping me forget about Fiona for a little while.”

  “Oh.” She gave him an impish look. “Then I was successful in relieving your discomfort, my lord?”

  “Aye, ye were.” Jamie felt his cock swelling again and rolled once more, pinning her beneath him. “And now it is my turn to pleasure ye.”

  “As you will, my lord,” Mari said and giggled, the sound turning to a low mewl as Jamie began his slow torture.

  Chapter Eight

  After hearing the strange sounds from inside the castle walls, Fiona really wanted to question Lona about the types of noises her ghost made, but given the eagle eye Ada kept pinned on both of them at lunch, Fiona didn’t think it wise to engage Lona in any type of specific conversation. Seamus must have informed the matron about their talk a few days ago in the courtyard. She didn’t want to subject Lona to another purging, nor did she want to give Ada any reason to doubt her own sanity…and she was also pretty sure the woman was still looking for revenge. Fiona glanced at Kier’s empty seat. Was he ever going to join them for lunch again?

  Kathleen narrowed her eyes. “Are ye lookin for your lover?”

  Fiona widened her eyes in shock. “What? Nae. I mean, why would—”

  “I see the way ye look at him, ye Scottish whore. ’Tis the same look the harlot gave my lord husband.” Kathleen adjusted the cuffs of her muslin gown as though they were frilly lace and sniffed. “But I took care of her, I did.”

  Fiona gaped at her, not believing the word she had been called. Behind her, Ada snorted and Erin gasped. Lona leaned forward though.

  “And what did ye do exactly, your ladyship?”

  Kathleen ignored the sarcasm, if indeed she even understood the tone, and adjusted her non-existent cuffs once more. “Let’s just say she fell into the Liffey and she didn’t swim well.”

  “My Calum was going to teach me to swim,” Dulcee said in her feathery voice and turned pale-blue eyes to Fiona. “Before ye came to take him away.”

  “I doona ken your Calum, Dulcee.”

  “Aye, ye do. Ye led him into the mists.” Dulcee smiled sweetly. “’Tis all right. Ye took him to heaven.”

  Fiona pressed her lips together before she let her mouth gape again. Kathleen had practically admitted she’d drowned someone and it seemed Dulcee thought Fiona was an angel. If the situation weren’t so dire, Fiona might even have smiled. Her brothers would certainly scoff at that description given her childhood escapades. Right now though, she would welcome the help of a whole regiment of heavenly host.

  Kathleen sneered at her. “Ye are a dense one, Dulcee. That angel ye describe came straight from a Fownes Street brothel.”

  “She did not.” Tears formed in Dulcee’s eyes and she turned to Fiona. “Tell her ye took my Calum to heaven.”

  How could Fiona respond to that? She had no idea of what had happened to Calum or even if he existed. She couldn’t very well say yes since—apart from the fact that it was not true—such an admission would make her seem more like a lunatic than ever, yet to deny it would be to distress Dulcee further, and Fiona had a feeling that the young girl’s mind was fragile enough. “I…I believe Calum is safe, Dulcee.”

  “Oh, thank ye.” Dulcee beamed through her tears. “Calum told me he would send a sign. Instead, he sent ye…his own personal angel.”

  Kathleen sniggered. “When did he tell ye that, ye halfwit?”

  Not stopping to think, Fiona reached for her tin cup of water and tossed the contents into Kathleen’s face. The woman sputtered and cursed, up-ending her chair as she lunged around the table at Fiona. Leaping out of her seat, Fiona wielded her own chair as a weapon. Before she could swing it, Seamus and Ada sprang into the scuffle, Seamus grabbing Kathleen while Ada took hold of Fiona, none too gently.

  “Let go of me, ye bloody devil!” Kathleen screamed, slashing her nails at Seamus. “The Scottish whore attacked me!”

  In one deft movement, the burly guard had Kathleen’s arm twisted behind her back. “If ye even think to strike me again, ye bloody bitch, I’ll snap your arm in two.” For emphasis, he raised the arm higher, causing Kathleen to rise on her toes and cry out in pain. Then he gave her a push that sent her sprawling and glared at Fiona. “And ye are nothing but trouble.”

  “Aye, that she is,” Ada said, tightening her grip. “She deserves a lesson.”

  “Kathleen should nae have called Dulcee what she did,” Fiona said, ignoring the painful grip on her arm.

  “’Tis not your business,” Ada snapped. “’Tis as plain as the nose on your face the girl’s a dimwit.”

  “That is what I said,” Kathleen added, picking herself off the floor and brushing her misshapen dress as carefully as though it were silk. “When my lord husband hears I was accosted, heads will roll.”

  “Yours included?” Lona asked and helped herself to Kathleen’s bread.

  “Silence!” Ada thundered as Kathleen glowered.

  “What is going on in here?”

  All heads turned to the door where Kier loomed large. He narrowed his eyes at Ada. “Release Mrs. MacLeod.”

  “But—”

  “Release her.”

  Grudgingly, Ada let go. “She threw a cup of water at Kathleen.”

  “Because she insulted Dulcee,” Fiona shot back.

  Kier looked from one of them to the other. “Perhaps the ladies should all retire to their rooms,” he said and then added to Ada and Seamus. “I will talk to you individually in the library.”

  Fiona moved toward the door first, before Ada or Seamus would try to escort her. Kier moved aside marginally, causing her to brush against his broad chest as she swept past him. He was wearing only a linen shirt and Fiona could feel his body heat through her flimsy smock. Her own body warmed. Kier turned slightly and she felt the hardness of his thigh as well. Fiona wanted to linger right there, touching him, but Kier stepped back and allowed the others through.

  Fiona continued to tingle all the way to her room.

  Why in the hell hadn’t he moved out of Fiona’s way? Kier sat down behind his desk in the library. He would have poured himself a dram of whiskey, but Ada and Seamus were due any minu
te to report what had just happened.

  Which had nothing to do with what had just happened to him. Catching sight of Fiona’s delicately featured face framed with its glossy ebony hair, her slanted eyes sparking silver fire, had caused his groin to tighten and his shaft to swell. His mind had immediately pictured himself stoking that fiery passion in his bed and hearing her increasingly loud moans of pleasure.

  By St. Patrick, he’d thought if he avoided seeing Fiona for a few days, this illogical preoccupation for her would pass. Instead, it had intensified. He’d had to fight to control himself when he’d realized Seamus had his hands on her. And why? What had transpired?

  He asked the question a short time later when Ada took a seat in front of his desk. “I want a full explanation. Do not leave anything out.”

  “Dulcee was carrying on about angels, thinking the MacLeod woman was one. Kathleen tried to explain to Dulcee there were no angels in the room. The MacLeod woman got angry—guess she liked the idea of being an angel—and threw water on Kathleen. Then she tried to fight her—even knocked Kathleen down. Seamus was putting a stop to it when ye came into the room.”

  “Kathleen did not react?”

  “She was shocked at such barbaric behavior.”

  Kier raised an eyebrow skeptically. He knew what a foul mouth Kathleen had. Her merchant-class husband had been more than happy to agree to commit her to the asylum, given that the authorities had never found the body of his missing mistress. “You are sure Kathleen did not do something to instigate it?”

  “No. The Scots woman’s temper is a terrible thing. First, she pushed Lona down in the courtyard, and now this.”

  “Hmmm.” Kier had heard Fiona’s side of the courtyard story and he tended to believe she had a compassionate disposition, but then his judgment could certainly be clouded with the continued lust he felt.

  “The Scot is a danger to us all, if ye ask me.”

  He hadn’t asked. “That will be all. Please send Seamus in.”

  Kier didn’t expect the guard’s story to be much different from the matron’s, and it wasn’t. Kier wondered if Seamus and Ada had talked beforehand to make sure their stories matched. He knew neither of them respected the inmates. Both of them thought he was too soft on his guests, but these troubled souls weren’t criminals—with the possible exception of Kathleen. Kier’s own mother had been considered insane by some, although it had been deep grief that had caused her to withdraw to her chambers. He had felt so helpless, not knowing what he could have done to prevent her taking her life, and so he had started reading articles on melancholy. At any rate, Kier believed Philippe Pinel’s methods in his Treatise should at least be tried first.

  After Seamus left, Kier tried working on long-overdue paperwork, but his mind kept coming back to what had occurred earlier. The explanations from Seamus and Ada were a bit too glib. Kier just didn’t think Fiona was a violent person. Finally, toward dusk, he gave up on working and went in search of Erin and Brena, finding both of them tidying up in the kitchen. “I should like a word with both of you.”

  “Yes, my lord,” they said in unison as they dipped curtsies respectfully.

  “You do not have to curtsy or call me lord,” Kier said. “Mr. O’Reilly will be fine.”

  Both girls bobbed their heads. “Yes, my lord…sir,” Brena said.

  Kier didn’t explain that he wasn’t a knight either. Sometimes, servants were more comfortable using the old forms of address.

  “What did ye want to ask, sir? Er, Mr. O’Reilly?” Erin asked.

  “Both of you served lunch today. I want to know what happened.” He watched as their eyes widened and their faces paled. “Do not be afraid. I simply want the truth.”

  They exchanged another frightened look and then Erin cleared her throat. “Kathleen called Fiona a bad name.”

  “What did she call her?”

  Erin’s face turned red and she looked down. “Me mum told me not to use language like that, but…but ’tis what the women from Fownes Street are called.”

  The street was in a seedier area of Temple Bar, so Kier had a good idea of exactly which word Kathleen had used. He barely managed to control his own temper at the thought. “Is that when Fiona threw the water?”

  “Oh, no,” Brena said. “She acted like a lady, she did. Then Dulcee started talking about angels and said Mrs. MacLeod was one.”

  Kier frowned. “I do not understand. Fiona—Mrs. MacLeod—got angry because Dulcee referred to her as an angel?”

  Brena shook her head. “Mrs. MacLeod didn’t get angry until Kathleen called Dulcee a bad word.”

  Kier lifted a brow in surprise. How anyone could consider young Dulcee a prostitute was beyond him. “Was it the same word that Kathleen used before?”

  “No,” Erin said quickly. “She called Dulcee a halfwit.”

  Ah. Kier didn’t blame Fiona a bit for that. In fact, he experienced an odd sense of pride she had taken action. Poor, confused Dulcee didn’t deserve to be ridiculed.

  “I see,” he said. “You have been very helpful.” Kier walked toward the door and then turned around. “Just one other thing. The day in the courtyard…did Fiona push Lona? Maybe by accident?”

  The girls exchanged looks again and then shook their heads.

  “So who did?”

  They both hesitated before Erin whispered, “Ada did.”

  Kier felt a sense of relief. Fiona had not fabricated her story, after all. “Thank you,” he said and walked back to the library. Once there, he poured himself a well-deserved dram. Obviously, his days of hiding in the library were over. He would have to start attending lunches again, if only to keep another situation from breaking out. Of course, if he were honest with himself, the idea of seeing and speaking to Fiona on a daily basis held its own appeal.

  He would begin tomorrow.

  But tonight another duty called. Finley had sent a coded message they were to meet with a small group of men near the crypt of Christ Church Cathedral later. It was an unlikely place for the English to suspect any insurgent faction to meet, which made it safe for the wealthy Irish who could be risking their livelihoods—and maybe their lives—if caught. Kier would leave by way of the secret passageway leading to the closed-off tower to ensure no one would know he was gone either.

  And tomorrow….tomorrow he would have lunch with Fiona.

  Darkness descended and no supper had come. Fiona lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Ada was probably punishing her for the commotion in the small dining room at lunch. Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten the chance to eat much of the noonday meal before Kathleen had begun flinging her insults. Fiona’s stomach rumbled in protest and she put a hand to her abdomen to quell it, but to no avail.

  The rumbling continued. Fiona realized the sound was not coming from her. Instead, it seemed to resonate from within the walls of the castle. Sitting up, she listened intently. Yes, there it was again. Very faint this time, almost like fading footsteps. If Lona’s ghost existed, it certainly made enough noise.

  Fiona lay back. Highland folklore was full of mythical beings. She had always suspected the Crone of the Hills was not human, and Fiona had seen for herself that faeries existed, including the one in the courtyard of this castle. She hadn’t been able to make contact with the flower nymph again since Ada made sure the women kept walking with no time to sit—or talk—during their hour outside.

  Legends of ghosts abounded in Scotland as well, from MacBeth’s time to the MacDonald laird slain at the orders of a Campbell at the treachery of Glen Coe. Voices of the Highland chieftains killed at Culloden were said still to be heard in the shrieking of the wind as it whipped across the moor on starless winter nights.

  A castle as old as this one could certainly have its share of ghosts. Was Kier’s mother one of them as Erin had mentioned?

  No sooner had the idea of Kier’s moth
er popped into Fiona’s head, that Kier himself invaded her thoughts—thoughts Fiona had been trying to avoid all afternoon.

  God in heaven. Brushing against his massive chest had made her tingle all the way to her core. Even now, her body reacted with a flash of heat. Her knees had actually wobbled. She certainly didn’t have that reaction when her brothers hugged her or lifted her unto a horse. Nor, truth be told, had she feel much of anything dancing with Brice or any of the other young English lords who’d held her hand. Yet the slight encounter earlier had sparked sensations she didn’t know she had. Kier’s hard thigh touching hers had ignited her body so much that she’d felt like she might burst into flame. Maybe this was what Mari had meant when she’d talked about how Jamie made her feel different. Different was an understatement if Mari had the same kind of reactions Fiona had to Kier.

  But Mari had fallen in love with Jamie as her sister, Jillian, had with Ian and Abigail had with cousin Shane. Was Fiona falling in love with Kier?

  There was one big difference though. Fiona’s brothers and cousin had been equally smitten with their wives. Kier hardly noticed her…and there was the wee problem he thought she was insane.

  The key turned in the lock and Fiona quickly sat up. Maybe Erin or Brena were able to sneak some bread and cheese up after all. Her stomach rumbled in earnest as the door swung open and then it suddenly felt as though she had swallowed hot coals.

  Ada stood in the doorway, Seamus behind her. The matron’s lips parted in what only a blind person would consider a smile. “It’s time ye learned a lesson,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  Shauna looked up from the ledger she’d been working on as Ian burst through the doors to the port office in Edinburgh. Laying her pencil down, she rounded the counter to hug her brother. “What is the news?”

  “Where is Shane?” Abigail asked as she came in from the adjacent file room. “Has something happened to the Border Lass?”