by Cait London
She frowned, suddenly remembering her father, sweeping out of England to hover nearby. Without warning the marquess could strike and shatter her dreams.
The baby shifted restlessly in its warm nest, and Regina’s hand smoothed her side.
MacGregor knew the dangers of a bastard child well. A hard man, he was also gentle and loving. Fighting for his son, MacGregor had taken her as his wife. She twisted the ring again. MacGregor deserved better than her nightmares and her past.
His gun belt hung from a peg near her head, the cartridges gleaming in the sun. He could not die because of her.
The Mariah Stone and other jewels filled a leather bag, weighing heavily in her apron pocket. MacGregor would soon know her frightening past. And then he must leave....
Across the distance of sunlit grass, MacGregor stared at her. A muscle moved slightly in his jaw, his lips hardening as the stare held and heated. Then he turned to talk to Pierre, sharing a dipper of water.
Beside her, Mose spat a stream of tobacco into a tin. “He’s damn mad, that MacGregor Two Hearts is. Not the rip-roaring fighting kind. But the kind that stays and eats at a man’s guts. Ain’t said a word about it, neither.”
“We’ve had a slight disagreement, Mose,” Regina murmured, smoothing the loose peasant blouse over their babe.
“Huh! MacGregor’s hurting bad,” the mountain man grumbled, walking past her toward the men. “I’d say it wouldn’t take much to patch him up, Miss Violet. Do it quick. I want to keep my good ear.”
MacGregor’s eyes slashed at her, then he turned away, tilting his head at something Lilly was saying.
Rubbing Venus’s sleek back, Regina traced MacGregor’s tall body. She longed to press her lips against his bare chest, to rest in his arms....
Moments later Regina walked toward the men; she carried a light cotton blanket wrapped around buttered bread and jam. MacGregor’s deep-set eyes traced her until she stood near him. “MacGregor, would you mind strolling with me into the woods?”
A muscle moved in his jaw, and his head lifted arrogantly.
“A stroll?” The hard edge to his deep voice proved she wouldn’t have an easy time salving his wounds.
Regina moistened her lips and ran a fingertip across the scars on his chest. “I thought we could dine out tonight.”
“Mon Dieu!” Pierre exclaimed with a wide grin. “I think the lady has come to collect you, MacGregor Two Hearts.”
But MacGregor was already following Regina’s small figure across the meadow and into the woods.
In a clearing Regina spread the blanket and sat in a swirl of skirts. MacGregor crossed his arms across his chest, enchanted with the feminine ways she prepared to hold court.
Sunlight filtering down through the aspens tangled in her coronet of braids. Light and shadows played around her, a slender pale leg escaped the folds of her lacy petticoat and long skirt. Her loose blouse had slipped off one shoulder, the satiny curve fascinating him as she placed a leather bag next to the food.
Slipping her moccasins off, she wiggled her toes and plucked a wood violet to tuck in her hair.
“It’s so hot and still. I made bread early this morning in that lovely oven Tiny built outside, and Rosebud’s butter is delicious.” Regina arched, running her hands across the back of her neck, the movement drying MacGregor’s throat.
Unable to look away, he leaned against a birch tree and studied the flush rising up her cheeks. She glanced up at him uneasily. “Surely you can rest in the heat....”
MacGregor sauntered to the blanket, looking down at her. “What do you want, Violet?”
“You could sit, my... dear,” she whispered, placing her hand on his hard calf. MacGregor tensed, muscles ridging beneath the skin on his chest. He followed the slender length of her arm to the low blouse, tracing the hollow between her breasts. “Please?” she asked quietly.
His eyes narrowed. “You want something. What is it?”
“A bargain, nothing more. But in its own time,” she whispered huskily, fearing that he would turn away.
“A bargain,” he repeated grimly, crouching beside her. He touched the earring in her lobe. “On whose terms, wife?”
“MacGregor....”
He untied her braids, loosening them. Her hair fell around her, rippling to the blanket. MacGregor eased a tress away from her lush breasts, his expression hard. “You deny my rights as a husband, yet our baby grows in you.”
His hand smoothed across the baby, finding a small kicking limb. Gently MacGregor stroked the curve of her abdomen. “What bargain, dear wife?”
She stroked the planes of his face, caressing his taut jaw. “MacGregor, you... not I... are in grave danger. Jack could be hurt....”
“Say it,” he commanded, a dark flush of anger rising over his dark cheeks.
“I have what I sought,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck. “More.”
MacGregor bore her light kiss without moving. “Violet, you’re pushing...” he warned unsteadily.
When she rose to her knees, tumbling him down on the blanket, he caught her gently. “The baby....”
“The baby misses you, MacGregor Two Hearts,” she whispered against his lips, her fingers smoothing his hair.
“Does he?” He breathed lightly, caressing the rounded curve of her hips and noting the new softness in her body. “Do you?”
She kissed his shoulder, and the sweet caress reminded him of his labors, how he had been sweating.... Placing her firmly aside, MacGregor rose to strip his clothing away.
She followed him to the stream, admiring the broad sway of his shoulders tapering down to the narrow, muscular hips and the long length of his legs. Leaning against a birch tree, she enjoyed the sight of MacGregor bathing in the shallow water. He sluiced water over his head, rivulets of water tumbling down his darkly tanned skin to the pale, lean buttocks and strong legs. Sunlight skipped along the water, catching gold lights on the rippling water and on the man.
Slipping free of her blouse and petticoat, Regina waded into the stream dressed in her lacy camisole and pantalettes. MacGregor stood still as she cupped water in her hands, washing his back and shoulders. He trembled as her hands caressed his hips, standing still as her fingers slid to his navel and circled it lightly. She kissed his shoulder as her hands slid slowly lower, smoothing the hard aroused length of his manhood.
MacGregor inhaled sharply as Regina’s hot cheek pressed against his spine, then kissed each scar with her parted mouth. In a swift movement he quickly turned and swept her up into his arms. “Violet....”
“My dear, beloved MacGregor,” she answered softly, wrapping her arms around him as he carried her back to the glade.
Sitting with her in his arms, MacGregor leaned against a tree. His eyes closed when she kissed his throat, his ear, nibbling on the eardrop.
A man’s lewd laugh slid across the clearing, and MacGregor’s arms tightened before he eased her aside. In the next instant MacGregor stepped into his trousers and stood in front of Regina. She gripped discarded skirts to her chin as the marquess sauntered toward them.
“How droll,” he mused, taking in Regina’s wildly tumbled hair and the flush rising in her cheeks.
His eyes slid down MacGregor’s tensed body to his unbuttoned trousers. He raised an ebony cane near MacGregor’s throat and touched the latch. A thin blade slid free, bringing a drop of blood. “Without your gun, I see. How perfect. Tall Tom tells me you are a deadly gunfighter and brawler. He’s aching for revenge.”
Tall Tom moved from the shadows of the trees silently, carrying Venus’s body. Her front paw, cut and bleeding, clung to her leg by a slender tendon. Tom dropped the dog to the grass; Venus whined and struggled to stand. The woodsman’s boot pushed her down and held her easily while he drew his gun, pointing it at MacGregor.
“Venus will lose the paw if not her life,” Mortimer-Hawkes mused quietly. “Dreadful accident. Found her caught in MacGregor’s traps. If she weren’t your pet, my dea
r Regina, I would have been kind, putting a bullet through her head to end the agony. But because of my love for you, I’ve returned her to your keeping. Of course, if this interview goes awry, I can easily put her out of her pain. Your fine woodsman may meet his demise as well.”
His eyes ran coldly down her bare shoulder. “Amusing... a woodland tryst. A beautiful nymph and a bold satyr poised on the brink of lovemaking. How delightful.”
With a soft cry Regina started toward her dog, but was stayed by MacGregor’s arm. The muscles across his shoulder tightened, the cords standing out in relief. “Let her go,” he said quietly. “You can have me.”
Mortimer-Hawkes lifted the blade to Regina’s dark hair and flicked the violet away.
“Sorry, my good man. She would bring your Nubian friend and the rest of the ruffians.... Regina needs a reminder of who and what she is,” he said, turning back to MacGregor. “Later, when we are finished, she will be free to go.”
The knife slid across the younger man’s shoulder, drawing blood. “She’s breeding now,” Mortimer-Hawkes murmured, studying Regina’s small face framed by a sweeping river of raven hair. “Quite lovely, too. Has that hot, pagan look of her mother, blended with something stronger, wilder... almost tropical in its heat. Is it hate, my dear Regina? Or is it love?” he asked, taunting her.
“What do you want?” MacGregor asked too softly.
Fearing her father’s answer, Regina slid her hand around MacGregor’s lean side to press him protectively against her.
Mortimer-Hawkes caught the movement, his expression brilliant with fury. “Regina needs a lesson. I’ve chosen you as an example.”
He quickly shielded his anger, dusting a leaf from his hunting jacket. “Regina is quite wealthy, you know. Of course, her fortune was in my keeping, until she became a thief.... I trust you’ve placed the Mariah and the other jewels in a safe place, my dear.”
His gaze slid down her body, almost hidden by MacGregor’s powerful one. The point of his blade caught on the fragile lace brushing her bare arm. “Get dressed, Regina. Tall Tom is drooling at the mouth. We wouldn’t want to expose those lovely charms to his friends who will be joining us shortly.”
“Get dressed, Violet,” MacGregor ordered quietly. Venus whined pitifully, and Regina’s tears slid down his arm.
Mortimer-Hawkes followed the silvery trail with the tip of his knife, drawing a white line on MacGregor’s dark skin.
“Father, please....” Regina pleaded as she quickly dressed.
“Because I love you deeply, Regina... and because I’m concerned for your future and the baby you carry, I’ve decided that MacGregor should pay the price for your disobedience. To kill him would be too easy. You would never see his weakness that way. Better for you to realize that he is our inferior, than a quick death. Yes, death would be far too simple. In time you’ll realize that you must return with me. You’ll see how ill-suited you are to this... breed.”
“Father....” Dressed now, Regina stepped in front of MacGregor, only to have him place her firmly aside.
Mortimer-Hawkes’s dark amethyst eyes met Regina’s for a long moment before they wandered down her thrusting breasts to the swell of her baby. He breathed heavily, nostrils flaring, as he reached out to place his palm over the taut mound. “Exciting. Exquisite. A woman with child filled with passion....”
In that instant MacGregor was on him. Tall Tom’s pistol butt crashed down on MacGregor’s head heavily just as five rough men surged out of the brush. Two men caught the woodsman as he slumped, hanging in their grip. They looked at Regina, then at Mortimer-Hawkes, waiting his instructions.
Mortimer-Hawkes staggered back, wiping his hand across his torn mouth and staring at his bloody fingers. “Hold the bastard,” he ordered. “Tom, please give MacGregor a lesson in manners.”
Regina flung herself on her father, and he laughed in delight, quickly capturing her wrists. “You shall enjoy this, Pagan. It should suit your savage blood.... Easy now... you are breeding. We don’t want the child harmed, do we?”
Tom’s savage blows slammed into MacGregor as he fought the men holding his arms. His elbow hit one man in the ribs, breaking them just as he hit Tom in the stomach. The one-eyed giant fell to his knees, clutching his belly. The three other men moved in quickly, and Regina jerked away from Mortimer-Hawkes’s grasp to fling herself on one man, scratching his face.
The marquess swept her back, pressing his arm across her chest until she struggled for breath. “There now, my savage Pagan,” he crooned softly in her ear. “All in good time, my love.”
Filled with rage, MacGregor faced him, blood running from the cut on his head. “Let her go,” he ordered, panting for breath. “Let her go, or I’ll kill you.”
Mortimer-Hawkes lifted a small knife to Regina’s taut throat. Then he laughed as a man hit MacGregor from the back, bringing him to his knees.
“Tie him to a tree,” Mortimer-Hawkes ordered softly, placing his hand over Regina’s mouth as she squirmed against him. “Tom, take care of this rubbish....”
When they were done, MacGregor hung unconscious from the ropes lashed to a birch tree. Mortimer-Hawkes released Regina, who ran to MacGregor. Straightening his jacket, the marquess sauntered to the unconscious MacGregor and pulled his head up by his hair.
“A job well done,” he murmured, securing the ruby earring between his fingers and ripping it free. He carefully wiped the jewel clean and tucked it in his breast pocket. “Your dear mother’s jewelry in a savage’s ear. Really, Pagan. The thought is disgusting. Perhaps you should give the jewels to me for safekeeping until you’re ready to return to my care.”
Regina shook, clinging to MacGregor’s slumped body. Her eyes shimmered with tears and anger. “You will never have Mariah, Father,” she spat the words at him.
“My dear, you are a lusty woman, but I am certain that by the time you are finished breeding, you will applaud my actions. Noblesse oblige, you know. Don’t be surprised if MacGregor deserts you and his child after this. I shall await your return. You understand that Jack would not live long under your care—should you stay apart from me. You will have the best of care at childbirth. Adieu.”
~**~
MacGregor struggled to crawl out of the murky, pain-filled haze, Regina’s scents and soft kisses surrounding him like spring rain.
“I didn’t want to leave you to go for help,” she whispered as a man’s groan sounded far away. Pain enveloped him and he discovered that the sound was his own. Regina’s unsteady whispers soothed the throbbing in his skull. “Oh, my darling, my love, my dear precious heart....”
He lifted a swollen lid to have it closed again by a cold cloth. “My dear MacGregor, my own sweet loving knight....” Regina cried, adjusting his head on her lap.
Kissing his bruises, she dabbed and inspected the cut placed there by Tom’s gun butt. MacGregor lay in the soft tangle of arms and silky hair, his child kicking against his cheek. Regina shifted slightly, her tears dropping steadily on his cheek. “Oh, MacGregor... MacGregor... what will we do?”
He breathed cautiously, noting that his ribs were still intact. “We’ll be just fine,” he managed over swollen lips.
“Oh! Oh!” Carefully cradling his jaw with her palms, Regina eagerly kissed his face. “I should have told you sooner.... My father will stop at nothing.”
A silky tendril slid along his cheek, and MacGregor closed his eyes, inhaling the scent. “Told me what?” he whispered, aware that his cheek rested on Regina’s warm, soft breast.
Pale in the mist of the shadows and her hair, Regina’s face bent over him. Her dark purple eyes shimmered with tears. “About the jewels, about everything.... You’ve got to go, MacGregor. I want you safe....”
“And what of you and my child?” he asked carefully, frightened for her.
“He won’t hurt me or the baby. He needs me. Jennifer, my nurse, told me about the legend. The Mariah Stone is the heart of an ancient idol and is the bridal dowry. The women in my
family are symbols of power and united with the Mariah Stone, they will bring power and wealth to the man who possesses them both.... He must possess me....”
“Violet... sweetheart...” MacGregor eased slowly upright, settling her a small distance away. Fearing that Regina’s childbirth might come soon because of her wild emotions, MacGregor stroked her hair. “Easy now, sweetheart.... Those are only dreams.”
“My father would kill for me and the stone,” she stated bitterly. “He loved my mother, in his way. Yet he killed her, drained her of life by his cruelties. I won’t have that happen to you.”
She threw her arms around him, clinging to him tightly. “Oh, your poor head... your poor, precious ear... it’s slit in two.” In the next instant she sat back on her heels and tenderly wrapped his head in her damp camisole.
“You are my lover,” she stated fiercely, tucking in a bit of lace and giving MacGregor a swift, possessive kiss on his lips. “The father of my baby and my own dear, loving husband. Father had no right hurting you, trying to bring me to heel. I am furious with him. I shall never forgive him.... In another moment I would have given him the jewels to leave....”
While MacGregor dealt with pain and his new status— “my husband,” she had said—Regina ripped open a leather bag. “A portion of my mother’s dowry was here all the time. He could have had it easily.”
Jewels tumbled from the bag, diamonds, emeralds, and a huge blood-red ruby attached to a heavy gold chain. Holding his hand tightly, Regina rummaged through the jewels to find a man’s heavy gold ring, engraved with an elaborate M. “M for Mariah,” she said. “My father never knew the ring existed. Jennifer said it’s for the keeper of the Mariah, the one who keeps her safe.... I don’t want Nigel killed, MacGregor. He’s the grandfather of our baby.”
Sliding the ring on MacGregor’s lean finger, Regina’s expression darkened. “There, my love. It suits you well. Wear it with my love as I wear your wedding ring.”
MacGregor studied the intricate, heavy gold ring. Pain pounded through him, his ribs bruised, his lips thick and tasting of blood. But at this moment, he was surely dreaming, because Regina had labeled him as her husband. Everything that he’d wanted....
