Susana and the Scot

by Sabrina York

  How much he would enjoy turning her over his knee and smacking that lush bottom.

  * * *

  Keir’s tour of the castle was brief indeed. One could call it cursory. One could also call it a waste of time. But Andrew took from it what he needed. He and his men would fill in the rest of it on their own.

  They began with a tour of the bailey, though it was very much like the bailey at Lochlannach Castle and Andrew had figured that much out for himself. What interested him were the things that were different, and disturbingly so.

  “This is the armory,” Keir said, waving in the vague direction of a long low building set against the castle walls. “And the training grounds.” The lists were old, but in good repair, with archery butts and a fenced area for battle practice, much like the one they had in Dunnet. There were, however, no men training. “And these are the battlements.” Keir gestured to the ramparts. Again, much like those in Dunnet, and again unmanned.

  “Do you not have men stationed up there?” It seemed to Andrew there should be at least a pair of them in the turret, where they could see far and wide.

  Keir frowned at him. “They’re on rotating shifts.”

  Andrew and Hamish exchanged a glance. For a castle that had recently suffered raids and betrayal, they seemed woefully unprotected. And where were they? All the men under Keir’s command? Andrew didn’t see much evidence of them anywhere.

  “Tell me about your troops,” Andrew asked.

  “Our troops?” Why Keir frowned so, he had no idea.

  “How many do you have? What is their training level?”

  “They are verra well trained,” Keir said.

  “Are they dedicated to defense?”

  “Well, no. They are tacksmen and blacksmiths. Farmers.”

  “Hmm.” Hamish stroked his beard. “So during the planting season and the harvest your defenses are down?”

  It was exactly what Andrew was thinking. No matter the season, there needed to men dedicated to the watch. Trained men.

  Keir forced a smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Naturally we have a plan to backfill during the harvest.” He didn’t elaborate on what that was, and Andrew didn’t ask because he knew the answer would be unsatisfactory. He made a mental note to include increased training and rotations in his plan.

  Once they had reviewed the castle strategies, they set out to tour the land surrounding the castle. Keir showed them the apiary and the orchard to the west and the bustling town of Ciaran Reay to the north. He shared bits of information here and there, but nothing truly useful, and he danced around far too many questions altogether.

  By the end of their tour, Andrew was mightily displeased.

  “Well, what did you think of that?” Hamish asked as they made their way back to the kennels.

  Andrew frowned. “A waste of time.”

  “My sentiments exactly. Either Keir doesna know what he’s doing, or his goal is to weaken the defenses, not shore them up.”

  “Or—and this is the most likely explanation—he was simply wasting our time.”

  Hamish chuckled. “I got that feeling, too. It doesna make sense, though. Why would they fob us off when we’ve come to help them?”

  Andrew had a clue and it all boiled down to the resentment of a certain redheaded virago … who didn’t want to give up the reins. What he needed to do was show her how much more effective their fortifications could be if she allowed men who knew what they were doing to design their plan of defense. “I doona think working with Keir will be verra useful.”

  Hamish narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting we do just as we threatened earlier, and explore on our own. And in the meantime, I think I’m going to have a little chat with Magnus.” If Susana wasn’t going to work with him, he was going to have to work around her. No doubt her father would be more than happy to provide him with the information he needed.

  With a grin, he made his way to the castle to find the laird of the manor.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Susana stared at her inventory list and then studied the stores. She tried not to grimace. They had plenty of mutton and ham in the smoke room, but with the influx of men from Dunnet, they would need more. Especially if they would be staying for any length of time. She sighed and made a note for Tamhas. They’d need to bring more vegetables up from the root cellar as well.

  She set her teeth as she thought of him, the stone in her shoe, the niggling gnat who wouldn’t leave her in peace. It had probably been cowardly of her to pass Andrew off on Keir. Keir hardly deserved such punishment. But she’d had one conversation with that impossible man that morning and had reached her limit.

  Her day hadn’t gone any better after she’d left him. There was a leak in the roof of the smithy, the wheel at the mill had cracked, and two of their crofters were embroiled in a feud over a pig. To make things worse, she hadn’t been able to find Isobel.

  This was hardly something new. Isobel was known to disappear for hours on end, either hunting with her friends or running amok in town. But today it was an annoyance, because Susana really wanted to talk to her daughter and remind her to stay away from Andrew.

  The thought of the two of them spending any time together made her stomach churn.

  She shivered. The storeroom was beneath ground and cool, but that was probably not what sent a shiver through her.

  Damn the man, he was exasperating.

  “Susana.”

  She started as his voice surrounded her, as though she had summoned him with her wayward thoughts.

  She spun, clutching her list to her chest, though it couldn’t protect her. Nothing could.

  He leaned against the doorjamb—so tall he blotted out the light—and crossed his arms over his chest. His grin was annoying. Everything about him was. The way the muscles in his arms bunched, the way his chest flexed, the taper of his waist … “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

  “Just looking around.”

  She stepped deeper into the room—away from him—and pretended to count ham hocks. “You already had a tour.”

  “It was not … satisfying.”

  “Wasn’t it?” She forbore a sniff. Likely Keir had taken her meaning and given them a perfunctory tour.

  “Nae. It wasna.” He stepped closer. She could feel him, smell him. She pretended to count faster. “You werena there.”

  She blew out a breath. Though he came around to her side, she didn’t look at him. “You dinna need me there.”

  “Nae. But I wanted you.”

  Her heart clenched. Those words, those words alone, scuttled all thought.

  She forced her spine to stiffen; forced her defenses to rise up. He was irresistible, aye, but she needed to resist him. She had to. That kiss, yesterday, had nearly swept her back six years in time, nearly made her stupid and naive once more. She couldn’t allow herself to be seduced again. Especially by a man who obviously seduced so many women, he couldn’t remember them all.

  Still, his presence at her side befuddled her. His gaze on her face burned. She cleared her throat and fought for distance. “Keir is verra thorough.”

  His chuckle rang through the room.

  She whirled on him. “He is.”

  “I’m glad you have such faith in him.”

  Something in his expression caught her attention. She frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “As though my faith is misplaced? Keir is a loyal and dependable man. He’s served Dounreay for years.”

  Andrew’s expression firmed. “I’m sure that is the case. And I’m also sure the tour was anything but thorough. However, even given that, Hamish and I found some elements seriously lacking. I have some suggestions I would like to present to you.”

  God he was irritating. The tilt of his head, that pretense of deference. As though he had any intention of letting her retain any power whatsoever. “Suggestions?”

  “For one,
I think there should be men on the walls at all times—”

  “We need the men for patrols. We doona have enough to assign them to the walls.”

  “You do now.” He stepped closer. “With my men. And your troops should be training regularly, in a designated rotation, not just when they wish to do so.”

  “We hardly have time for that.”

  “You should make time. Keir explained that many of your fighting men are farmers and tacksmen. Merchants.”

  “And?”

  “And, if those men find themselves in a battle with hardened soldiers, they will appreciate the extra training.”

  Damn it. She wasn’t sure what enraged her the most, the fact that he was presumptuous enough to tell her how to defend her land, or the fact that he was right. “Can we discuss this later?” She gestured to the mutton. “I’m busy.”

  “I see that.” His eyes glimmered.

  “I need to figure out how I’m going to feed all your men.”

  “They can hunt.”

  She glowered. “I canna have our forests decimated.”

  “According to your father, the forests are teeming with game. However, if you are concerned, I will send a letter to Alexander asking him to send supplies. We had no idea you were in such dire straits.” He glanced meaningfully around the room, filled to the brim with meat.

  She frowned at him. Tapped her foot. “They are his men.”

  “Aye.” He said nothing more, merely stared at her, which she found mildly disturbing. Or not mildly.

  “Is there anything else?” A bark.

  She didn’t know why her stomach plummeted when he turned to leave.

  But he didn’t leave … He kicked the door shut with his foot and came back to her.

  Her pulse leaped. “I … What are you doing?”

  He stepped closer. The light of the lamp cast his face in shadows, gave him an ominous demeanor. “I canna stop thinking about it,” he said.

  Her belly rippled. “About what?”

  “That kiss.”

  Something sizzled through her womb. She looked around, searching for an escape. There was none. Certainly no escape from the desire that suddenly curled through her.

  “That–That … kiss?”

  He smiled. “It was delicious. But there was something about it…” He stepped closer and though she stepped back, there was nowhere to go. Once again, he had cornered her. She placed a hand on his chest, probably to keep him away. His heart thudded beneath her palm.

  She gazed up at him, unable to move. “Something about it? What?”

  “I’m not sure.” A whisper. No more was necessary because he was already as close as he could be. His heat scalded her. “I need another taste.”

  Before she could react, before she could slip away, his lips touched hers, scraped across them, across her sanity. A mere hint of a buss, but it was enough. It was enough to fill her with his essence, his taste, his scent.

  Her knees locked and she wobbled. His arms surrounded her, holding her up. His hand pressed against her back, pulling her closer. He groaned and deepened the kiss, covering her, smothering her with his mouth. Washing her with a tide of desire. It was a sea in which she could gladly drown.

  As had happened yesterday, with the mere touch of his lips on hers all her reservations, all her pain, six years of resolve, crumbled.

  She could hate herself for this weakness. She should. But not now. Tonight she would regret this.

  For the moment, she would only glory in the feelings he ignited in her hungry, aching body.

  It was as though, in his arms, she was alive again. Ah, but for a moment, surely. Soon she would curl up and turn to stone again, but for now, for this moment, she was alive.

  His lips moved over hers; his tongue dabbed in. Susana shook at the sensation. She opened to him, allowed him in, sucking on his tongue. He reared back, his nostrils flared, his eyes wide. Then he fisted his hands in her hair and yanked her closer and kissed her again.

  No gentle exploration this. No tender tasting. He consumed her whole with the savage desire of a man long starved.

  It was wild and passionate and glorious and … folly, but she sank into it.

  As he kissed her, his hands roved, dancing over her back, her hips, cupping her bottom. He pressed against her and pulled her into him. The outline of his aroused cock was unmistakable.

  The thought flickered through her head, a foolish thought, an injudicious one.

  They were alone here in the cellar. It was likely no one would intrude.

  Her body was ready for him; her womb ached for him. How difficult would it be to raise her skirts and lean back? How insane would it be to taste that glory … just once more?

  Aye, she might regret it. But she would survive. She had before.

  But before she could act on such an imprudent and rampant desire, he lifted his head. He stared at her, his damp lips parted. His brow furrowed and he whispered, “Susana?”

  She swallowed heavily. “Aye?”

  “You taste…”

  Her pulse pinged. “Aye?”

  To her frustration—nae, to her relief—he eased back. Surely she imagined that flicker in his expression, that flicker of … recognition. He didn’t remember her. Did he? She forced down the vexing surge of hope; it was an annoyance. Besides which, she didn’t want him to remember her. She didn’t want him to remember anything. There was too much at stake.

  “You taste … wonderful.”

  She forced herself to relax. A mistake. Because he kissed her again. But this was not an enflamed and seductive kiss, it was … a sample. Another tiny nibble of a dish he was trying to decide if he wanted to eat. It was delicious and far too brief. But it was followed by another, and another.

  The befuddlement in his expression deepened. His Adam’s apple worked. “Have we ever … kissed before?”

  Something nasty rippled through her. She wasn’t sure if it was rage, relief or disappointment. She pushed him away and he allowed it. She stalked across the room. This time, he did not follow. “Do you no’ remember the girls you’ve kissed?” She tried for a civil tone. And almost achieved it.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then why do you ask if you’ve kissed me? For heaven’s sake. We’ve never even met.” A bold-faced lie, and one twined, perhaps, with a hint of desperation. But it was a necessary lie.

  “You taste … You seem … familiar.”

  Dread arose in her. She fought it back down. “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she said with a snort. “How many women have you kissed?” Sometimes offense was the best defense.

  He winced, but didn’t answer. For some reason, his reticence reignited her anger, even when silencing him had been her aim.

  “Do you even remember the name of the last girl you kissed?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “What was it?”

  He paled. His lips worked. He didn’t answer. Then again, no answer was answer in itself.

  He didn’t remember. He never remembered.

  He never remembered anything.

  And as memorable as this kiss had been, he would forget it as soon as another girl passed by, capturing his eye.

  He would forget her as he’d forgotten her before.

  She glared at him, all of her fury, all of her pain, all of her desolation plain on her face for him to see.

  Likely he would forget that as well.

  “Susana…”

  “Go on. Admit it. You doona remember.”

  “I do. I just … canna say.”

  “You canna say?” She blew out a breath, investing in it every ort of her disdain.

  She’d been right to distrust him. She’d been right to keep him at arm’s length. She’d been right in her desire to punish him and make him pay for her broken heart.

  He was a bastard. A faithless philanderer, a heartless Lothario who seduced women, used them until he tired of them, and tossed them aside. And then forgot them.

  Oh, wha
t a fool she’d been. Then, and now.

  She was right in her determination to resist him, to avoid him.

  All he had to do was kiss her and her thoughts scattered, her determination shattered; insanity reigned.

  Without a word, she pushed past him and ran from the room.

  It was a good thing he didn’t follow her, or she might have gutted him.

  * * *

  Andrew leaned against the ramparts and stared out at the picturesque town of Ciaran Reay, nestled against the sea like a jewel. The view from the turrets was superb. He could see far in the distance in all directions. Stafford’s land to the west and Scrabster’s to the east.

  He couldn’t see all the crofts to the south through the thick woods, but if they set up a system of signal fires, it would be easy for the soldiers posted here to spot the smoke and send help to the far reaches.

  Why there were no men stationed here was befuddling.

  That wasn’t the only befuddling thought twining in his brain.

  After that debacle with Susana, he’d thrown himself into his work. Never had he regretted a kiss as much as he did that one.

  Oh, not the kiss with Susana.

  The kiss with Lana.

  When he’d refused to name her and Susana had stormed out of the storage room, he hadn’t been able to move. He’d stared after her, his mind in a tumult.

  He hadn’t wanted to let her go. He probably shouldn’t have. He probably should never have let her go. He should have kept kissing her, maybe taken more of what she’d seemed so willing to offer. He should have ignored that insistent urge to speak to her. Because when he’d lifted his head and burbled the question ringing in his mind—well, that had ruined everything.

  And her challenge? To name the last woman he’d kissed?

  Fook. How could he tell her? How could he admit the last woman he’d pulled into his arms and kissed had been … her sister?

  That would have bollixed everything up but good.

  He gusted a sigh and turned to head back down the stairs but a scraping sound over his head captured his attention. He glanced up. And froze.

  A tiny figure scrambled across the slate shingles of the turret’s slanted roof, a bow slung over her shoulder. He recognized her at once. That blond hair was unmistakable.