For that’s what he considered her. His wife. His love. His whole godforsaken world. Overcome with emotions, he untied the laces on the front of her gown. A cold breeze blew in off the water and he cursed himself for being so absentminded. She’d freeze if he made love to her in the open. Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her deep into the woods, yards away from where they were.
Then he set her gently on her feet and began to undress, spreading his plaid on the ground for her to lie upon. “I willna take no for an answer, lass. I need you. Want you. Love you so desperately I’d kill them all to be with you.”
She stood unblinking, watching him, her gaze drifting down his half-naked body.
“Do you like what you see, lass?”
“Aye, I do.”
Aileana hungered the way he did. From the first kiss they’d shared, to this moment, he could read her thoughts, see the way her body reacted to his.
His chest and throat felt suddenly tight as she finished what he’d started, loosening the laces on the front of her gown and shift, and letting it gape open so her luscious breasts were exposed. Her pink nipples were like tiny pebbles. He swallowed hard, his fingers itching for contact with her pearly flesh.
She hiked her skirt up to her thighs, then sat in the middle of his plaid, spreading her legs wide enough and angling her hips so he caught a hint of the tawny curls that guarded the gates to his paradise.
“Come to me, Errol.”
Wearing only his linen shirt and boots, he lowered himself on top of her and gently pushed her flat on her back, taking one of her hard nipples in his mouth and caressing her face.
He worshipped her breasts with his tongue and hands, loving the way she writhed underneath him, her little mews a reminder of the mutual pleasure they shared. As he crawled slowly down her body, he pressed his thumb between her lips and she sucked on it—lust weaving through him.
Positioned between her slim thighs then, he cupped her arse cheeks, and lifted her, burying his tongue inside her. Sweet heaven—she was so hot and wet for him.
“Errol…”
“Shhh,” he said. “Let me taste you.”
His tongue spiraled over her flesh gently at first, but as her body responded, and the scent and flavor of her excitement overwhelmed him, he used his fingers and mouth to brand her—to remind her where she belonged. With him forever.
“No MacDonald will keep us apart, Aileana. Ye belong to me. Say it, lass.”
“I belong to you.”
“Aye.” It pleased him beyond measure to hear her speak it.
“Milord…” she squealed with delight.
He sucked on her clitoris harder, milking her, until she boiled over with pleasure. Not giving her time to recover, he repositioned himself so their faces were flush, his cock poised at her entrance.
“Love me,” she whispered, her wild gaze pinning his with a look he couldn’t quite define. But it gave him chills. “I’ve thought of little else in this lonely place. I love you.”
He growled then, thrusting so hard, they both cried out in shock as he buried himself deep inside her. His cock throbbed with need. And as her tight flesh squeezed him like an angry fist, he pumped his hips harder and harder. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Errol kissed her soft lips, thumbing the tears away, silently vowing to never let anything or anyone make her sad again.
“Mine,” he reminded her.
“Yours,” she reassured him. “And you belong to me as well.”
“Aye,” he said. “Half a heart canna survive in this cruel world.” He sat up, lifting her heels to his shoulders so he could watch her come undone beneath him.
This is how life should be—the world locked out, and only Errol and his ladylove left to explore the depth of their feelings. As he thrust again, he threw his head back and roared like a beast, filling her with his seed, knowing she’d be his forever.
Chapter 24
Making love to Aileana had drained his strength. Curled together under the warmth of his plaid now, Errol knew their time alone was short. ’Twas the reason he’d taken her so hard and fierce—but the next chance he got, he’d go slow, savoring every inch of her perfect body. He kissed the back of her head.
“Are ye better, lass?”
She wiggled in his arms, pressing her arse against his ready-to-go-again manhood. “Aye.”
“Do ye think you can tell me what happened while I hold you? I swear on my mother’s grave to not get angry.”
She went rigid in his arms.
“Aileana?” He flipped her onto her back, leaning over her. “What is it?”
“Doona cage me in.”
Fire flared under his skin. Someone had hurt her—he could feel it, see it in her eyes. “Tell me,” he said more forcefully than he intended.
“Broc…” she whispered.
“Did the bastard touch you?” He was up then, sitting next to her, but afraid to hear what she had to say.
“After you escorted me to my new chamber the night we made love, I couldna sleep. So I went for a walk outside. Broc cornered me in the woods, told me if I didn’t leave he’d kill me.”
“Kill you?” He rose to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. He’d promised not to get angry, but he couldn’t hide his rage. Staring down at her, he tried to control his tone. “What reason did he give?”
Aileana climbed to her feet too, straightening her bodice and smoothing her skirt down, her tiny hands shaking. “In retaliation for our betrothal.”
“Tell me exactly what he said and did, Aileana. Do not leave out the slightest detail.”
He listened patiently as she stumbled through the story, her eyes wide with regret and pain. And once she finished speaking, she stood in front of him with her head down like a shamed child waiting to be chastised.
“Doona bow your head.” He lifted her chin. “Yer innocent and should be proud of the way you defended yourself.”
“But I didn’t,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“This saved me.” She clutched the chain around her neck.
He moved closer to see it clearly. A miniature silver galley. “What significance does it have? I’m afraid I doona understand.”
“This pendant once belonged to my father. And I’m sure Broc recognized its significance, for once he beheld it, he dinna rape me.”
The man would pay with his life for assaulting her. But the new mystery in front of Errol made no sense. If he didn’t recognize the importance of the pendant, why did Broc? Perhaps Aileana simply misinterpreted his intent. Maybe he wanted the piece of silver for himself. But Errol would not torture her with more questions. The most important thing was getting her back to Kintail, back into his home and arms every night for the rest of their lives.
Once they were both dressed, he reluctantly returned her to the MacDonald keep, ready to face her father. Food had been set out, and Laird MacDonald sat at the head of the table, with Liam and Gunn to his left, and Cian and Sgùrr to his right. What a difference an hour had made, and Errol hoped it was a sign of good things to come.
“Sit,” the MacDonald commanded without a flicker of emotion on his face. “Break bread with me and we’ll discuss your futures.”
Errol accepted a glass of wine, thankful it tasted better than the watered-down ale from earlier. Then he shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth, feeling ravenous.
“We are faced with a serious dilemma,” the laird said. “The MacDonalds and MacRaes are old enemies, sworn to fight to the death whenever we meet. The good Lord only knows the origin of our blood feud, but today, I am willing to put our enmity aside in order to find a peaceful solution. Cian? Will you join me?”
The surly man muttered something under his breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I stand firm by what I said before.”
Laird MacDonald’s serene features transformed immediately. “Then leave the table.”
“Excuse me, brother?”
“Milord,” the chieftai
n corrected.
“Milord,” Cian repeated, stone-faced.
“Do ye think I enjoy reprimanding you in front of our guests? In front of your daughter? Sometimes the path to peace is preferable over the road to war. Your continued derisiveness serves no purpose, Cian. This girl came here with her mother in search of answers, not to fight. Not to disrespect you or our clan.”
Errol watched as Cian studied his daughter at length.
“Aileana is blameless,” Cian said. “But her mother and Errol MacRae are partners in this deception.”
“Deception?” Errol said, his ire rising. “I woke up one morning and found my beloved gone. I searched for her tirelessly—fearing the worst. You know nothing of me.”
“I know your clan. And the apple doesna fall far from the tree.”
Laird MacDonald groaned. “Another disparaging word from your mouth, Cian, and I’ll remove you myself.” He looked to Errol. “Kateland explained everything to me, including the disturbing news that you’ve bedded my niece without taking wedding vows. How do you answer?”
Errol laid his spoon aside and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What happens between the lass and me in the privacy of our chamber is no one’s concern. I am a man, and she is a grown woman, more than capable of making up her own mind.”
“I see,” the laird said, holding his gaze. “Aileana? How do you feel?”
“Errol speaks the truth. I gladly gave my virginity to him. I had no other gift to offer.”
Silence fell over them, her honest words as alarming as a knife aimed for the heart.
Clearing his throat, the laird inclined his head. “Are ye with child?”
Aileana’s cheeks flushed. Errol’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms, offended by her uncle’s lack of propriety. This was a conversation best reserved for behind closed doors.
“I don’t know, sir.”
He nodded. “And how long has it been since you’ve been together?”
“I doona see what difference it makes,” Errol interjected.
“All the difference in the world,” the laird replied, matter-of-fact.
Aileana’s shoulders drooped instantly, guilt written all over her pretty face. “Just now,” she confessed.
“Son of a whore!” Cian slammed his fists on the table. “You will pay dearly for this, MacRae.”
True to his word, Laird MacDonald shot up from his chair and marched to where his brother sat. Taking his arm, he said, “Get up.”
Cian tried to shake free of his grip, but the MacDonald dragged him to his feet. His bodyguards surrounded Cian and escorted him from the hall.
“Now,” her uncle continued, finding his way back to the table. “Continue, please.”
“Errol and I made love in the woods.”
He rubbed his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. “Is the love so strong between you?”
“Aye,” she said without pause. “Only I didn’t know it until I spent a week here.”
“Distance has a way of providing clarity in matters of love. Right or wrong, the heart wants what it wants. And I am not the kind of man to stand in the way of such feelings. But unfortunately, a MacDonald canna marry a MacRae.”
“Why?” Sgùrr finally spoke up. “She’s lived away from the clan and has no part in your family politics. The very reason I left. I never wanted Aileana to be exposed to this sort of thing, never wanted anyone to dictate what she could and couldna do with her life.”
“A grave mistake on your part,” the laird said. “Which brings me to the solution.”
“What?” Errol asked out loud. “You’re not going to keep us apart, are you?”
“And bring the might of the MacRaes and MacKenzies down on my head? Look around you, lad, all the clans are suffering. I havna the desire to invite death to my door. And I know if I send you away without my niece, you’ll find a way to come back with more than two fighters. Then we’ll both suffer for the sake of pride.”
Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge the MacDonald chieftain. The man spoke wisely.
“I doona speak lightly, lass,” he focused on his niece. “For if you choose to leave here tonight, the MacDonald name will not go with you. My allies would accuse me of many things if they knew my brother’s only child wed a MacRae. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Errol slipped his hand under the table and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“I do,” she said. “But so many have already seen me, and know who I am.”
“The people at this table and the men and women who serve in this keep know what penalties they’d face for disloyalty. Your identity will be kept a secret, child. But you’ll live in our hearts—that much I promise. For a MacDonald could never gaze upon you and not see my mother. As for you, Errol MacRae, if Aileana chooses you, doona let me hear you havna taken vows before a sennight has passed.”
The point was well taken. Errol got up and gestured for Aileana to spin around on the bench. Then he stood in front of her and dropped to his knee, holding her right hand. “Before all here and God as my witness, if you’ll have me, I’ll marry ye the minute we get home.”
He was lost in her beautiful blue eyes, and her soft smile filled him with hope.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I want to go home. I wish to be Aileana MacRae.”
Chapter 25
Errol made no excuses as he entered the MacRae keep with a very tired Aileana in tow and headed abovestairs. His bride-to-be must rest and regain her strength. He’d eventually visit his father’s solar and reveal the information he’d gathered from the MacDonald chieftain.
Once she was safely tucked in bed and asleep, he stationed a guard at her door and went downstairs.
Edme and Margot were the first to stop him.
“Please, Master Errol,” Margot pleaded. “Is Aileana well?”
“Can we see her?” Edme asked.
The soft spot he had for these women showed in the way he spoke to them. “Dearest ladies,” he said. “Your niece is tired, nothing more. ’Twas a long journey home. But I promise nothing will ever drive her away again.” The appreciativeness on their faces was all the thanks he needed. “You may visit with her tomorrow.”
He marched into the great hall then, in search of strong drink. One of the maids curtsied as he approached. “Bring me the best ale.”
“Aye, milord,” she said.
He touched her arm. “Where is Broc, lass?” The man made it a point to let the women know where he was at all times.
“In the stables.”
Her answer angered him, for all he could picture was the captain raping Aileana in a pile of hay, then leaving her for dead.
Minutes later, the girl returned with a pitcher and cup. But he refused the smaller vessel, and guzzled from the flagon. The warriors lounging in the hall watched him with curiosity, for he’d never overlooked his manners in this way, drinking like a bloody Viking. But he’d make no apologies for how he felt or what he was about to do. Some things stayed with a man forever. Some sins were unforgivable. And Broc MacRae must pay for his evil treachery.
Liam and Gunn joined him.
“What are ye planning, Cousin?” Liam asked.
He lowered the pitcher from his lips, warm ale dripping down the sides of his face. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Preparing,” he growled.
“Tell us what the chieftain told you,” Jaimie urged. “A man shouldna harbor secrets that trouble his soul.”
“Nor should he interfere with things he knows nothing about,” he said tonelessly. The more time that passed, the deeper his hatred grew for a man he once loved like a brother. “You willna get involved. That’s an order.”
“Aye, milord.” Gunn saluted.
Once Errol finished the ale, a malevolent smile curved his lips. He placed the empty pitcher on the nearest table, then casually strode out the main entrance without a word to his friends. The cold night air invigorated him. Love and hate were very similar, some
thing he’d learned the hard way over the last weeks. And if a man searched his heart, he’d see that passion was behind both.
A series of stone and wood structures comprised the stables, the main building large enough to shelter the laird’s prized horses. Several lads were busy working within, feeding and grooming the beasts. They bowed as Errol walked by, but he ignored them, only interested in one thing. He approached the bottom of the ladder that granted access to the spacious loft where fresh hay was stored. Although he heard nothing, he knew where Broc took the women he bedded.
“Broc MacRae,” he called into the darkness above. He waited several minutes, but there was no reply. “Come down.”
“What do you want?”
“I wish to speak with you.”
“Can it wait, milord?”
“Nay.” And if Broc didn’t obey, Errol would be more than happy to drag him down the ladder.
Whispers sounded from above. Errol stepped back as Broc’s leather boots hit the first rung, and watched him climb down. Sprigs of hay were stuck in the man’s dark hair, his plaid shamefully wrinkled.
Errol damned himself for ever trusting the man. His error in judgment had nearly cost Aileana her life. And now his hunger for revenge wouldn’t relent. “Bring the lass down,” Errol commanded.
“Why?”
“I want to see her face.”
Broc cursed to himself, then called out to her. “Collect yourself, Aubrie. Master Errol demands your presence.”
Minutes later, she appeared, her cheeks stained with embarrassment. She stood before Errol, head hanging. “Have I done something wrong, milord?”
Knowing the errant lass to be very young, Errol took compassion on her. “Nay,” he said. “But I must caution you to choose a better man to bed in the future.”
Aubrie’s dark eyes met his, a look of surprise on her face.
“Get back to the kitchens, lass. Edme and Margot willna be happy if they find out you were here before the hall was cleaned. Go.”
She looked to Broc first, but the coward turned his head, refusing to acknowledge her. With a gasp, she ran out of the stables.
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