Highland Captive

by Mary McCall

  "Have you seen Megan today?” Duncan asked.

  Struan shook his head sadly. “Nay. Isobel says the wee faerie is going through one of her spells and will not leave her room."

  Duncan wiped a hand over his face. Damn it all, he missed his faerie sprite. But even more, he hated to see fear pop into her eyes whenever he approached. “You can eat whenever the others arrive and Edeen is ready. I am going to check on Alera."

  "The lass may be sleeping and needs to stay that way if she is,” Struan admonished.

  Duncan mounted the stairs and went to his chamber. The empty bed sent a flash of irritation across his brow as he closed the door. Heat blasted him. A blaze roared in the hearth, and chestnut curls tumbled from beneath a mountain of pelts.

  He released a pent-up sigh. Alera had tried a different ploy every

  night to keep him from taking her, and she had finally succeeded. He wasn't about to make love to the lass when she had exhausted herself righting his keep. He would lecture her, though. She should have paced herself, so he wouldn't have to forego his pleasure.

  "Alera,” he said more tersely than intended.

  "Go away."

  Her voice sounded muffled, and her gritty edge was lacking. He crossed the chamber and sat on his haunches beside her. “Why are you not in bed?"

  "Since you treat me like a bitch in heat, I am sleeping on the floor where good dogs belong."

  "Alera, cease your spite and get in the bed. I know you're exhausted."

  "Please go away, Duncan,” she begged. “I need you to leave me alone tonight, and I am more comfortable here."

  "Fine. I'll carry you.” Duncan tossed aside the pelts.

  A violent shudder wracked through Alera's body. She drew her thighs up to her chest and her shoulders hunched until she lay scrunched in a ball facing away from him. Her keening whine raised goosebumps on his flesh. Then her teeth chattered a wild tattoo.

  He caressed a damp lock away from her cheek and noticed perspiration beaded on her forehead. “Damn it, Alera, you're soaked and cold as an ice block. What is wrong with you?"

  Alera turned her face downward toward the fur. Saints above, she wanted to dig a grave and crawl in. She just couldn't tell him. “Please go away."

  "I'll not leave you like this. You're drenched from cold sweat.” He worked the shift up her legs.

  Why couldn't he leave her to her misery? She couldn't sate him now. If she told him the reason, he might cast her from the chamber, so he would not have to risk the plagues men associated with a woman's flow. She just had to stay by the fire though. She was going to have to tell him. “Please, Duncan. I cannot tonight. I am...I am not...clean."

  He hesitated and looked at her. Humiliation laced her tone. Her symptoms were obviously real. He caressed her delicate jaw. “'Tis all right, lass. I just wish to dry you, so we can get you warmed."

  Alera offered no further resistance and lay shivering as Duncan removed her shift and rubbed her dry. He grabbed a plaid from the bed and draped her naked body. Then he tucked in the edges and brushed his lips over her cheek. “I'll return soon."

  Mortification overwhelmed her when the door closed. He acted with consideration, but ladies just didn't reveal such things to men. A chill ripped through her. She groaned as her muscles constricted. She was too miserable to follow Mama's serene and gracious lesson. She was giving in to self-pity,

  because the Highlands were too cold and she would never feel warm again.

  She didn't hear Duncan's return over her chattering teeth. She tensed as he slipped an arm under her shoulder.

  "Come, Alera. Drink this.” He lifted her to a sitting position, supporting her against him with an arm behind her back. He placed a cup to her lips.

  She pulled back and raised questioning eyes to his.

  "You should have told me why you wanted the feverfew and mandrake root. I'll not have you suffer so."

  He placed the rim to her lips again. She drained the contents then grimaced at the bitter taste. He lowered her onto her side facing the flames then rolled a pelt and placed it under her head. After removing his plaid, he eased under the blanket behind her and pulled her against him.

  Alera stiffened then tried to pull away. “Nay, Duncan. I cannot—"

  "Shhh. ‘Tis all right.” He tightened his embrace. “I intend nothing more than sharing my heat."

  "Are you not afraid to be near me? Most men—"

  "Have you not learned yet, lass, that I am not most men?"

  She relaxed as much as her shivering body allowed. Duncan's flesh burned like fire behind her, promising warmth to her freezing bones. She wiggled backward, molding against him. He splayed a hand over her cramping belly and began a gentle massage.

  He felt so hot, so incredibly good. His spicy scent enveloped her like a soothing balm. She wanted to meld into him, be surrounded by his heat.

  Her shivers ceased as his warmth seeped into her. The drawing cramps in her belly eased. Alera closed her eyes and parted her lips, releasing a purring sigh.

  Duncan answered with a groan.

  His rigid shaft pulsated against her bottom. “Duncan?"

  "Relax, Alera. Just try not to move or shiver more than you have to.” He chuckled deep in his chest. “You should sleep well tonight, knowing your body causes me profound torture."

  "You are truly in pain?"

  Was that distress he heard in her voice? “I'll survive."

  "I would not have you suffer for helping me, but I need your heat too much to have you leave me now."

  "I'll not be going anywhere until you feel better. I told Struan that we would wait a couple of days to find his corpse."

  Her arm slipped under his, then her delicate touch whispered down him from waist to hip. She moved her bottom slightly forward and slipped her hand between them. Her fingers brushed the length of the underside of his shaft.

  He sucked in a hissing breath.

  Her hand stilled. “I did not mean to hurt you worse. Is there anything

  I can do to relieve you?"

  "You do not have to.” His voice sounded harsh, but damn it all, he was ready to explode.

  "Please do not be angry. I cannot stand for anyone to suffer, and you cannot imagine the torment you warmed from me. Tell me how I can help you."

  His tension increased. She actually offered to sate him without a struggle. “Grip me in your hand and stroke up and down my length."

  Her fingers wrapped around his throbbing shaft and began awkwardly stroking. He growled his pleasure into her ear, encouraging her. Her caresses grew bolder. He burrowed his face in her neck, giving her love nips and suckling the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

  Exquisite pleasure grew in his loins as her scent flowed through his veins. He thrust his hips against her rhythm. His hand on her belly increased the intensity of the massage. Through an erotic haze, he heard her whimper. Her hips moved with his. He entwined his fingers in her hair and turned her face upward.

  "Give me your mouth, Alera."

  Her lips parted. His tongue plunged inside, plundering in rhythm with their hips below.

  His hand moved downward from her belly into her curls then stroked the center of her desire.

  He growled into her mouth and lunged against her as a gratifying spasm coursed through him. His seed gushed over her back and bottom.

  Alera moaned in response. She clamped her legs together, bucking his magic fingers until rapture consumed her.

  The lass cried out his name.

  Duncan smiled, pulled Alera's limp hand from between them, and placed it gently in front of her. He liked the way she fainted from their shared passions. She gave all of herself to the act.

  He rose, retrieved a basin and water, and cleansed them both. Then he eased back behind her and settled with her in his arms. She stirred and cuddled against him. A blissful sigh blew from her lips. Duncan grunted and tightened his embrace.

  'Twas about time she gave herself without a fight. She would stop all
these foolish escape attempts now and admit she was his. ‘Twas a damn nuisance that he had to worry about his woman trying to sneak off all the time.

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  Eight

  Two days in bed left Alera restless. She would not be back to normal and fit to escape for another week. Mayhap by then Duncan would be ready to take Struan away and she would have a chance to leave undetected.

  Until then, she would do something the Lady Alera of Arundrydge never did. “I'm going to lie, Henry. I will promise not to go home, so the barbarian may become complacent and drop his guard. I hope your wings shed and your halo droops for not helping me. Now I will have to confess deceit, too. Father Lawrence may simply forgo penance and sentence me to perdition."

  The walls of the chamber seemed to shift, closing in on her. Her heart raced and sweat popped out on her forehead. “I must leave these confines and keep busy."

  She put on a light-blue kirtle and tied a rope belt around her waist. Gathering her long tresses in one hand at the crown of her head, she secured them in place with a leather string.

  Arriving in the hall with her cleaning supplies, she was surprised, but glad, to see the tables wiped clean and the floor free of new foodstuffs. She began removing the weapons from the wall by the stairs.

  Bergit and Ardra, two spiteful clanswomen, entered the hall with their claws bared. They informed Alera that the Ranalds would see to their own keep. Some of their taunts stung. Alera assumed her regal posture and retired upstairs where she had another altercation with Isobel before reaching Duncan's chamber.

  She slammed the door in aggravation. “Henry, where in perdition are you?"

  Alera paced the chamber. “I am not about to stay cooped up all day, waiting upon Duncan's whims. ‘Tis bad enough my body betrays me with wantonness whenever he is near."

  Stopping at the window, she leaned against the frame and looked out at the mountain forest. “I am so ashamed, Henry. I am doubly cursed. I possess a demon rage and a demon lust. Duncan knows just how to summon my wantonness, too. With his honeyed words and kindling touch, he sets my entire body ablaze. Worse still I desire and enjoy his touch...and being held by him."

  She turned away from the window, and stared at the battlefield. At least that's how she had come to think of the bed. There she had surrendered to Duncan's conquering caresses. How good was his chance of winning the war? The odds favored him if she didn't get away soon.

  The ceiling lowered and the walls shifted. She fought to breathe as her heart skittered and her hands grew clammy. Saints above, she needed to get away from the confines of the chamber. She needed fresh air. She needed to...

  She gasped. “You are right, Henry. I need to hunt."

  Duncan's bow hung beside the hearth next to a game pouch and a quiver containing six arrows. She grabbed the hunting gear, headed downstairs, and slipped out the rear door. At the urging of her grumbling stomach, she headed toward the kitchen to find something to hold her until she could hunt up some game.

  Megan accepted a slice of bread from Edeen, and Alera approached the girl. Megan spun about. Terror scrunched her face. The child clutched her doll and bread to her chest then dashed away.

  "Megan, wait!” she called.

  The child kept running.

  "She'll not be letting you near her. Best leave the lass to her grieving."

  Alera turned and looked at the Ranald's cook. Edeen was a strapping woman. Past laughter and sorrows mingled in the lines furrowing her brow and fringing her eyes and lips. Her white hair was pulled into a neat braid down her back, but her eyes were what caught Alera's notice. They were an aquamarine color and filled with suspicion, but not the anger she had seen from the other clanswomen.

  "I can help Megan if I can get near her. Will you help me?"

  The cook's astute gaze raked Alera. “And just how can you help the daft lassie?"

  Alera's brows snapped together. “Megan is not daft. She is in pain.” She eyed the woman, letting her own wariness show. “I believe someone harms her intentionally."

  "Are you accusing me?” the cook demanded. “I see the lass eats proper whenever she comes. No one else seems to care, including her haughty Sassenach grandmother. Besides, this is the first day she has left her chamber in two weeks."

  "I am not accusing anyone...yet. Will you help me get near her?"

  Edeen narrowed her eyes. “And just how are you planning to help the lass?"

  She wanted to tell this woman the truth. Beneath Edeen's gruff exterior, Alera sensed a gentle spirit. But she had been accused of witchery in the past and she didn't have Mama here to save her from the test. “I can only tell you that I mean Megan no harm and I can help her. You will have to decide if my word is enough."

  "Well, you cleaned the hall, got the women working again.” A calculating gleam entered Edeen's eyes. “If you'll be doing me a wee obligement, then I'll help you get to the lass."

  "What do you need from me?"

  "Spices and herbs,” Edeen informed her in a no-nonsense manner. “The tinker has been through twice without me getting supplies, and the old garden behind the kitchen has withered. My stores exhausted around Hogmanay."

  "Is that why the food tastes so—” Alera broke off, searching for a word to soften the insult.

  Edeen cackled. “The word you're looking for is terrible, lass. And aye. Lady Lessa always took care of dealing with the tinker and tending the garden. My back will not let me work the ground anymore. I tried speaking with the laird last fall, but he never had time for me. Tinker came this spring right after the laird brought you home. No one saw him again until after the tinker left, except Geddes."

  Alera looked toward the forest trail where Megan had disappeared. She didn't want to tell any more lies. If she made this promise, she would have to delay her escape. Of course, she would need some time with Megan. She couldn't leave until the child was whole again. Aye, she would at least have time to get the garden planted. “I will tend the garden, and I will speak with the laird about your spices, though I am surprised he did not speak with you. He seems to take his duties as laird seriously. Will you help me with Megan?"

  "Aye.” Edeen nodded. “The lass will come around about this time on the morrow. Come before her and hide inside the kitchen. I will do my best."

  "Thank you.” Alera turned to leave.

  Edeen placed a hand on Alera's arm, staying her. “Marry him, lass. You won over the men when you hit the Sassenach witch, but the clanswomen... They'll not be accepting you until you wed."

  "I cannot stay. I have another vow I must keep."

  The wrinkles over the old woman's brow furrowed as deep as a freshly plowed field. “You're already wed, then?"

  "Nay, but binding loyalty is involved just the same.” She smiled, sensing she might have found a friend. “I am going hunting. What should I seek?"

  "Best take care, lass,” Edeen warned. “Highlanders do not like their women hunting."

  "Englishmen do not like it, either.” Alera arched a haughty brow and raised her chin. “Pity for them, do you not agree?"

  The cook's lips spread into a cagey grin. “Rabbits. They are running

  about all over the mountain."

  Alera nodded and left.

  He might just take up beating women when he caught up to the lass. The little fool had even headed off in the wrong direction this time.

  Duncan returned home from taking Struan to the MacPhersons and discovered Alera had slipped off during the morning. No one knew where she was. He strode out of the keep intent upon finding her and wringing her beautiful neck.

  Craig ran up and asked if Alera was back with his wolf tail yet. Duncan rolled his eyes. The lad had apparently asked Alera a hundred questions as she tried to escape. She told him that she was going wolf baiting, which was the perfect thing to tell Hope MacPherson's grandson. Craig now idolized Alera and gladly pointed Duncan in the right direction. He followed her tracks for nearly two hours before he s
potted her.

  She stood ahead of him, posed in an ethereal light across a small forest clearing. Her sky-blue kirtle, belted at the waist and hitched up on one side, set off tiny ankles and sleek calves. He scrutinized her up to the top of her head. Her hair was bound on top and tumbled over her back and left shoulder in a glorious mass of swirling glimmers down to her waist. Damn if she didn't look just like a wondrous wood faerie.

  She glanced over to her right, barely moving. With quiet precision, she removed three arrows from his quiver. The wee fool aimed them all at once and let them fly.

  "Damn it all!” She settled her hands on her hips. “Listen to me, Henry. The barbarian even has me cursing like a heathen."

  Duncan shook his head and chuckled. “If you had told me you wanted to learn how to use a bow, I would have been glad to teach you."

  Alera snorted and turned a disgruntled face toward him. He had little time to react when she pulled an arrow and shot in his direction. He threw himself on the ground, his thoughts in a quandary. She had tried to kill him!

  Above the pounding of his heart, he heard a thud on the ground behind him. He jumped up and spun about. A huge silver wolf lay dead with an arrow in its left eye. He clenched his jaw just to keep his mouth from hanging open then turned back around. Alera flashed him a dazzling grin, unlike any he had ever seen from her, robbing his thoughts.

  "You ruined my game, Duncan.” She sauntered toward him, a wild sort of grace in her moves. “I baited him for a good half hour. I wanted to bring him low with my dagger.” She passed him and retrieved the arrow from the carcass.

  "You what!” He spun around as her words sank in. Damn if she wasn't making his head reel.

  "Do me a favor and bind his hind legs while I get my rabbits. He has pretty fur and I want the pelt—except for the tail. I promised that to a chatty

  Ranald boy."

  She walked toward the area where she had fired the arrows and kept talking. “You need a new bow, Duncan. This one is warped and made me miss one of my rabbits. Are you hungry? I missed the nooning. There is a lovely brook not far from—"

  "Did you just tell me that you've been baiting this beast?” he bellowed.