Caden was fairly certain from Meg’s tone of voice that this had to do with more than some imagined threat of a mistress.
She shivered in the cold and all he wanted to do was carry her back to his room and warm her. Right now, she didn’t give any signals that she was remotely willing. Bloody hell, women were complicated.
He replayed her words. Sacrifice, being stuck with her. She was worried about her place here, maybe even about his attraction to her. The thought struck him hard and he thanked God he hadn’t continued to match Alec whisky for whisky, or he may have missed it.
He exhaled. “Nay, lass, ye have no reason to fear mistresses.” He moved his lips closer to her ear. “I’ve thought only of ye since I warmed yer back in the tent each night on the way north.”
She tipped her head to see his expression. Did she search for sincerity?
“I was quite angry about that,” she murmured.
He tried to keep his neutral expression. “Ye did a fine job of letting me know.”
“You’re lucky my wolf didn’t eat you.”
He chuckled, feeling a warmth flow back into him at her lighter voice. When had her happiness become so important? He wrapped her in a hug.
His grin faltered at her still-rigid stance, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. This was not an easy fix. “I am sorry, Meg. I should have told ye, let ye know everything and then decide on yer own. Perhaps…I worried ye wouldn’t choose my plan.”
“I trusted you,” she whispered.
He brushed the top of her head with his chin as he stared, unseeing, across the winter landscape. “Can ye forgive me for capturing ye to force the peace? For not telling ye everything from the start?” He held still, his chin resting on the soft waves. What if she couldn’t ever really forgive him? His gut tightened as he waited.
She nuzzled into his chest. “I suppose I can.”
His chest expanded and he kissed the top of her head. He felt her body relax into his embrace. A beginning.
…
Meg held Caden’s hand as they walked into the great hall the next morning. Aunt Rachel and Uncle Alec sat at the long table with Ewan and Kenneth. Ann and Jonet stood with Evelyn, who held several more links of dried flower garland.
“And just when we thought ye’d sleep the day away,” Ewan called. “Food for the couple. They must be famished.”
Meg blushed but kept her head high. She had nothing to be ashamed of—that was, as long as her screams hadn’t carried below. Just the thought made her stomach clench. They sat at the table and Evelyn brought out some oat porridge and venison.
“Never seen ye sleep past dawn,” Evelyn said to Caden. She winked at Meg. The woman actually winked! Perhaps she’d forgiven her for being a witch after she’d healed Angus and helped end the feud.
Caden’s leg rubbed against Meg’s under the table. “Where are the men?” he asked Ewan.
“Hunting for more game.”
“With the herds returning, we don’t need to send out as many hunting parties. I’d rather keep the men close in case the English decide to brave the cold,” Caden said. “We need to be ready when Boswell decides to show up.”
“Perhaps a response to his letter requesting Meg would be best,” Kenneth said.
“Where to send it?” Caden asked.
“You think he’s close?” Meg asked.
“I do. He thinks ye have something that could hurt him.”
Meg’s gaze switched to Colin. “We need to retrieve those letters. Are you certain they are still up in that cave?”
“As far as I know,” Colin said. “They’re well hidden. I doubt anyone else has found them, especially without the map.” He referred to the key. “The other trails are deadly.”
Meg’s heart sped. “With those letters, Boswell can’t touch any of us.”
“Could ye lead us there?” Caden asked Colin.
“It’s an easy walk up hill…for a Highlander.”
“I could ride Pippen,” Meg offered.
“And there’s a waterfall in front of the cave entrance.”
“Walls of hard water. The phrase is in her journal.” She glanced up remembering. “An fuar uamh le moran na frith-rathaidean agus an blath cridhe anns am meadhon,” she recited slowly. “A cold cave with many paths and a warm heart in the middle.”
“The waterfall is difficult to get past,” Colin said. “Even in the summer, when the water doesn’t freeze the skin from yer bones. By this time of year, it’s fed by snow above on the mountain. Soon it will freeze solid until late spring.”
“We also need to travel to Munro Castle before more snow makes it impossible to move the herds and bring the grain wagon,” Ewan said.
“I think I agreed to too much last eve,” Alec grumbled. “Giving grain when we had nothing to do with the fire.” He shook his head. Rachel pressed her finger to her lips in a signal to hush, making Alec frown.
“Says he had nothing to do with it,” said Bruce, “though Angus here saw him.”
“That’s a lie!” Alec shouted, his eyes narrowing on Angus, who turned a mottled shade of red and set his tankard down. “The bastard lies because Rachel chose me over him.”
Rachel let out a loud sigh. “I think my husband should help lead the herds over, don’t you think, Alec? You get cranky when you’re cooped up inside too long.”
“I get cranky, woman, when people lie about me!”
Angus walked down the length of the table toward Caden. Bruce followed and Kenneth straightened as if the three were one, standing against Alec. Alec’s chest puffed up even more, and the tension crackled in the air. Meg’s gaze moved between sides.
“Perhaps we need more whisky,” Rachel said. “Bloody egos.”
Angus glanced at Alec’s fuming face, but focused on Caden. “I…that night…I saw someone out by the field with a torch.”
“A Munro,” Bruce insisted.
“Liar!” Alec threw back and began to slide his reclaimed sword free. Searc stood beside him.
Caden’s hand slapped hard down on the table, making most everyone jump. “Let Angus finish.”
Meg touched Angus’s hand. He certainly had something to tell. The man’s blood raced with almost dangerous speed through his aging veins. His stomach twisted and contracted, as did his bladder and bowels. The muscles in his eyes clenched and Meg could see them twitch every so often.
“Yes,” she said encouragingly, “let him speak.” Before he explodes.
Angus swallowed. “I’ve been meaning to say…well, I couldn’t see who it was very well…not at all, actually.”
“Ye said it was Gregor Munro,” Kenneth said.
“Alec’s cousin,” Rachel added for Meg.
“I said I thought it looked like Gregor,” Angus clarified.
“Gregor wasn’t there,” Alec said.
“He would never do something like that without my father’s order,” Searc chimed in.
“Now that I think about it, the man didn’t have Gregor’s height.” Angus squinted and met Caden’s eyes. “I was mistaken. I don’t know who set the blaze, but there was someone with a torch.”
“Well now,” Alec said, his tone coming down two levels. “Angus Riley telling the truth.”
“Thank you,” Rachel added softly with a small smile to Angus, who turned a deeper shade of red.
“And I’m sorry I stabbed ye, Rachel,” Angus added.
“You stabbed my aunt Rachel?” Meg asked. What was their history?
Rachel bowed her head. “An accident, a long time ago. Your mother saved me.”
Alec seemed to growl and Rachel ran her hand along his arm. Could she calm him with a touch?
“Should be apologizing to me.” Alec ran his hand along the scabbard at his waist as if he needed only a flinch from Angus to run him through.
“Angus, Bruce, Kenneth.” Caden interrupted the growing unease. “Let’s discuss who else may have started that fire. Then we’ll plan to travel to Munro Castle. Colin, we’l
l discuss retrieval of the letters later tonight.”
Meg rose from the table. “And I had better check on Sarah and the twins.”
“Could ye bring Isabelle’s journal back down?” Colin asked. “I’d like to see it…her handwriting again.”
“We can pick out her clues in the discrepancies, even though we no longer need them.” Meg sighed. They were so close to the letters, yet it would take a small army to reach them safely.
“Very smart, my sister,” Rachel commented as she followed Colin toward the hearth.
“And brave,” Colin added. “And so is her daughter.”
Meg walked to the steps. Brave? Barely. So much had changed in her world over the last weeks. She conjured the little blue orb to illuminate the steps as the torch had been doused in the stairwell. “To think you could do more than light my path,” she whispered to the orb. The sound of voices at the bottom of the steps caused her to douse the light and glance over her shoulder. “Brave? Not very,” she said and hurried up the steps using one hand on the wall as a guide in the darkness.
As she neared the top where the steps became shallow and more treacherous, her foot came down on round pebbles. She yelped and wobbled, nearly losing her balance. Several pebbles plunked down the winding granite steps, but Meg fell forward, catching the top step on her hands and knees.
She steadied herself on the landing and illuminated the steps. Round pebbles lay even along the top two steps. She frowned. Not again. In the chaos of the last two days she’d forgotten to tell Caden about the rocks left before. Was someone really trying to hurt her? Or was she just being paranoid? After all, her marriage to Caden had just saved them from starvation.
…
As Meg entered Sarah’s room and closed the door behind her, a cloaked figure moved down the corridor to the steps. The figure bent in silence and tumbled the pebbles back out into an even layer across the step, then hurried below.
…
Meg pinched her fingers and drew them apart to form the ball of blue light to illuminate the stone steps. Her heart sped up slightly and she fought the urge to worry over what Caden would think of her light. “The pebbles were left on three different steps at different times.”
“I’ll post a guard,” Caden said as he brushed a hand across the steps where little rocks were pushed aside.
“Do you think someone isn’t happy that I’m here? First the mushrooms, then the pebbles.” Maybe it was her healing. She hadn’t been hiding her newly discovered abilities and word had spread about Sarah’s son.
He didn’t answer. “I don’t want ye walking the castle by yerself.”
“At all? I’ll be a prisoner again.”
Caden sighed long. “Ye were never a prisoner.”
“Mm-hmmm.”
Caden pushed through the door to their room. A cheerful fire blazed in the hearth, washing back the shadows with splashes of orange and yellow about the room.
“You knew we were coming up here soon?” she asked. They’d been eating and talking with Munros and Macbains and Colin. There were lots of plans to be made and the snow wasn’t making anything easy.
“If ye hadn’t asked soon, I was going to just carry ye up anyway.”
His words teased but his tone was serious. She touched his arm and sensed the tension. He was worried, too.
Caden’s eyes held hers. He swept his shirt off over his head. The leather thong fell away from his hair, allowing it to wave down around his square jaw. Meg’s gaze roamed over the chiseled muscles of his torso and the low-slung kilt across his narrow hips. Intense and purposeful, his movements made him resemble a hunter stalking his prize. A silver Scottish cross lay near the hollow of his throat and reflected the fire against his tanned skin. He was rugged and powerful.
He caught her chin and gave her a kiss. Meg nearly flinched at the tightness in his neck and shoulders.
She moved to the bed and patted the furs next to her. “Sit.”
When he did she twirled her finger. “Turn around.” She placed hands on his shoulders and began to rub. “Relax.”
“Warriors don’t relax.”
“Maybe that’s why warriors go around frowning so much. They all have aches in their heads.”
“Will ye use the light on me?”
“Not unless you really want me to and then I might be too tired to…I just mean to work the tension a bit,” she said and kneaded hard into the muscles of his broad shoulders. Hours of sword play had sculpted his body into an amazing display of strength. Meg’s gaze slid down his bare back, smooth skin over steel and sinew.
Caden groaned low as she worked some of the knots around his neck. “Where did ye learn to do that?”
“Farmers get very sore muscles from working the land.” She forced her attention back to Caden’s bunched shoulders. “Uncle Harold liked me to work the knots out of his back. Said my little knuckles could bully the knots right flat.”
Uncle Harold and Aunt Mary must be so worried about her. Guilt added to her fear that they’d been hurt or suffering.
Meg sniffed and her hands moved lower down his bare back. She rubbed hard across the underlying tension down his sides, stopping at an old scar. The tip of her finger traced the six-inch puckered line. “You must have been young.”
“Aye, ten and three, I think.”
“How did it happen?”
“A Munro blade.”
“You could have died. You were just a boy.”
Caden turned, catching her hand. “Boys died, my brother died. He was just sixteen.” He cupped her face and gave her a quick kiss. “When he died and I became the heir to my father, I vowed that I would find a way to end the feud. I didn’t know that I would win such an amazing lass in the process.”
He brushed her hair back from her shoulders, his thumbs running small circles along her collarbone. A shiver ran through Meg that had nothing to do with the chill in the air, and everything to do with the heat in Caden’s eyes.
His gaze moved across her body. “Lass, ye have far too many clothes on.”
Meg wiggled off her slippers, letting them fall to the floor. She moved up onto her knees, then reached behind through the closure of her skirt to untie the lacing holding up her stiff farthingale. The layers dropped with a swoosh. Caden stopped his advance at the sound. She pushed up onto the furs and leaned back into the pillows at the headboard. When he didn’t move, she untied her garters and worked her stockings down her legs. She dug her toes into the soft pelts.
Caden’s eyes traveled the length of her skirt, over her bodice, and up to her eyes. Meg wondered if she appeared as hungry as he did. The silent charge of their stare twisted through her, coiling in her stomach and below. She drew a tentative breath and reached for the bottom hem near her ankles. She gathered the layers of material in her fingers and inched them upward so that they slid along her bare legs. Inch by inch she let the folds tickle the sensitive skin until the voluminous skirts bunched around her waist, exposing her pale thighs against the dark furs. Caden’s eyes opened just a hint more and dipped to follow the line of her long legs, his roguish grin fading into one of amazement.
“I thought Highlanders were never surprised,” Meg said, though the tease came out breathless.
“Rarely, lass.” His voice was low, rough.
His hot gaze traveled up to the dark cave her skirts had created at the vee of her thighs. Meg’s fingers released her skirts where they sat at her waist. Deftly, she untied the top of her bodice where the swell of breasts pushed upward, nearly to overflowing from the tightness of the ties below.
Caden rested a finger along her ankle and trailed it up her leg to the knee as he leaned across the bed. His warm palm cupped her bare knee, and as he bent over, his hand slid down the slope of her thigh. He kissed her, and his hand gripped the sensitive bend connecting her leg to her hip. He fingered the satin edge of her straining neckline, untying the lacing at the top of her bodice.
Hot kisses along her neck made Meg inhale and
she tilted back to give him access to her flushed skin. As her shoulders pressed back into the pillows, the supple flesh broke over the satin scrap of a collar. Caden groaned as her breasts swelled out into full view, perched before him. He cupped them both, his mouth finding one nipple while his thumb strummed the other.
Meg’s heart pulsed, spreading fire down through her loins as he sucked on one breast and then the other. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she moaned softly, her hips rising on the wave of passion. Her body trembled with heat, and she moved her legs, wanting more, needing more.
“Caden,” she rasped, and raised her leg to rub against the hardness through his kilt. “I need you in me.” She moaned as the sensations of his mouth sent a direct assault against her core, drenching her with need.
Caden’s hand found its way past her many layers of skirts. She cried out as he thrust two fingers inside. “Och, lass, ye are soaked.”
“More, Caden,” she cried, wanting to be swept up with the force of him inside her. The tide of passion pushed aside any embarrassment and she reached down to find him. He stepped back and dropped the kilt from his hips.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of his huge, muscular, warrior body. “Don’t hold back.” Her legs spread against the fabric. “I need you.”
In a heartbeat, he grasped her to him, lifting and turning her around to face away, just off the side of the bed. She wondered if her legs would hold her as he worked to untie the back lacings of her skirts. The ties broke in his hands, leaving the gown still attached around her waist.
“Bloody hell.”
“Leave them.” She pressed back into his hard body.
Caden reached around to her front, cupping her breasts while he kissed the column of her neck. He brushed her hair to one side and teased the tender flesh of her nape. Meg’s legs wobbled as she let out a low moan.
He steadied her by pushing her legs against the edge of the bed. His hands bunched the layers of fabric upward until chilled air slid across her backside. Caden leaned against her ear. “Open yer legs, bride.”
She leaned forward to brace against the high bed. His fingers found her once more and he teased the flesh until she panted.
Captured Heart Page 23
