by Laura Glenn
The brilliant green of his eyes glimmered in the torchlight. She parted her lips. Maybe he would be willing to escort her back to the loch near Fannich to search for the pendant.
No, it would be too much to ask. She pressed her lips together and gave up trying to pry his hands away, instead she pushed in vain against his chest.
His fingertips dug into her waist. “Tell me what happened.”
His tone was commanding, but there was something soft and compelling just beneath the surface. “The mormaer is forcing me to marry.”
Rathe’s brows drew together. “Who?”
She shrugged, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t remember. Some Highland laird.”
“But why are you upset? I am certain the mormaer would have made you an excellent match.”
Thanks to the freeing effects of the whisky, Leah snorted and rolled her eyes. Alpina had used those exact same words. Not that it mattered anyway, since she wanted nothing to do with marriage for a good long while. Especially when it involved some medieval guy she had never met.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to be married to anyone.”
A cockeyed, boyish grin played across his face. “Well, that is one thing we have in common.”
A smile pulled at her lips, but then faded as Alpina’s voice echoed through her head, accusing him of murdering his wives.
She should get the truth from him and not rely on rumors spoken by someone who clearly disliked him. If nothing else, it would serve her fantasies better as she sat in front of the television alone, eating a bowl of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby. “You’ve been married before.”
He nodded and tilted his head as he stared at her.
His silence just encouraged her nervousness to filter through the confidence of her whisky haze. What was she thinking? This man was strong enough to kill her right now with his bare hands and there would be little she could do to stop him. She should scream or something, shouldn’t she? Anything to get him to release her so she could get as far away from him as possible.
He relaxed his grip on her waist and drew the pads of his thumbs back and forth along her stomach. Pleasing shivers rippled through her flesh. He couldn’t be so bad, right? He had saved her from injury when she’d walked into the middle of a sword demonstration after all.
“I know that Barclay woman has been bending your ear,” he murmured.
The constant drone of conversations and music funneling up the stairs fell away as his breathing filling her ears. His heart beat in a steady, comforting rhythm beneath her fingertips. He couldn’t possibly be the type of man who killed wives for not giving him sons, could he? It wasn’t like he was Henry VIII or anything.
Hold on. Could she seriously trust her judgment of his character when every time he so much as smiled at her, her insides melted?
Her chest tightened in apprehension but she forced the words out. “Did you kill your wives?”
“My first wife died in childbirth. My second thought living her life with me rather than another was not worth it.”
“But you didn’t—”
“I have never laid a hand on a woman in anger.” His eyes glowered with annoyance for a second before he relaxed into a soft, charming smile as though she hadn’t just asked him if he was a murderer. “Are you satisfied, lass?”
Maybe she could ask him to help her after all. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything.”
Heat emanated from him, seeping into her. Her skin flushed as a deep ache spread between her thighs. She drew toward him but then stopped when the barest slip of air still separated them.
She shook her head. No she had to concentrate. “Will you take me back to Graham land? I need to get home. My family will be worried sick.”
Rathe’s lips parted as his face fell. “You are a Graham? You told me you were a Gunn.”
“I am a Gunn. It’s just that something weird happened and I ended up on Graham land where the mormaer found me.” The mormaer had her scared half out of her mind someone would accuse her of witchcraft if they knew what had really happened to her. Just how many details she should reveal to this man? “The mormaer won’t take me back, but I need to find my way home now before he marries me off and sends me away. I may never have this chance again.”
The arrested expression on his face sent her heart into a downward spiral of despair. He was going to deny her request. She dropped her eyes to his chest, blinking back the tears filling her eyes.
“Ah, lass. That is the one thing I cannot do. I cannot go against my overlord.”
Her spine stiffened. It didn’t matter. She would find her own way home. “Then I will go myself.”
His fingertips sank into her waist again and his arms tightened, holding her captive. “I cannot allow that.”
“Please, let me go.”
“You would not survive the night, lass. If the cold did not get you, then a wolf or a group of highwaymen would. I would be sending you to your death were I to let you go.”
One hot tear fell onto her cheek as her shoulders slumped in defeat. Damn it, he was right. Even if she was familiar with the route and could move fast, she might not avoid the notice of wild animals or highwaymen. Besides, what would she do if she got back to the site of the cabin and the pendant was gone? And even if she did find it, would it even work?
“I have a knife,” she mumbled.
He cupped her cheek with one of his massive hands. The roughened pad of his thumb whisked away the tear that had fallen.
She resisted the urge to sink into his touch. A reassuring strength radiated from his eyes.
Now what was she supposed to do? Play the dutiful medieval maiden and marry this stranger David had picked out? Her stomach churned.
“What if this husband doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him?”
He chuckled. “You may come to like each other in time.”
“What if he’s controlling or selfish? What if he’s cruel?”
He smoothed his fingers back along her cheek and into her hair. Her flesh tingled. “You are going to worry yourself sick, lass. There is no need—”
“What if he hits me? What if—”
His hand curled around her neck and he squeezed it. “Then you send word to me. You hear? I will not abide a woman being abused in such a manner.”
What? Didn’t all medieval men think women were the simple property of their husbands to do with what they chose? “You would come for me?”
His eyes brimmed with conflict. “I am a fool for saying so, but I swear on my life I would come for you. You need only to say the word.”
Her lips parted in bewilderment, her knees weakening. “But you cannot help me get out of this marriage?”
“Unless I can find a legitimate objection other than your reluctance, I cannot question the mormaer. You saved his son, remember. He would not marry you off to someone he knows will treat you poorly.”
She bit her lower lip, her heart numbing in defeat.
Rathe pressed his forehead to hers, sending a wave of warmth through her limbs to her belly as though breathing life back into her. “I am sorry, lass.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, desperate for comfort even if it was from a complete stranger. His woodsy, masculine scent surrounded her. The warm solidity of his body arousing. A new, thrilling sense of life swirled through her. Her vision sharpened in the dim light and her skin heated beneath his. Her pulse quickened and her skin thrummed as a warm, moist ache formed between her thighs.
Could she really do this? Could she really be bold enough to risk the regret and allow lust to consume her with a handsome stranger? This might be her only chance to do something so wild. What did she have to lose anyway? One way or another, she was going to get the pendant back and go home. They might never cross paths again.
“My hip still hurts a little.”
He lifted his head from hers and studied her face.
Just as her confid
ence wilted, he cleared his throat and whispered, “Would you like me to take a look at it? Just to be sure you are not seriously injured.”
A mixture of apprehension and anticipation swelled within her belly. “Of course. To be on the safe side.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Naturally.”
Leah’s tongue darted out to lick her lips as she fought the urge to run. He grinned and recaptured her eyes, rendering them immobile. Being one step above him, she was almost at his eye level and could not indulge her shyness by curling into him to hide.
His warm lips skipped across her cheek. “Have you not been with a man?”
Emboldened by the lack of eye contact, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his jaw. Light stubble tickled her skin and she took a long, deep breath, reveling in the earthy scent of him.
“Leah.” His lips drifted along her neck, searing her skin.
She leaned into his chest, giving him her full weight. His large palms slipped down her backside, cupping it as he pulled her hips against him.
“I am not in the habit of taking virgins. Especially not right before they are to be married to another.”
Her cheeks heated and she was more than grateful for the dim light. She couldn’t blame him for assuming she was a virgin since she was acting so skittish. “I’m not a virgin.”
His chest deflated with a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
His lips smothered hers as she threaded her fingers through his hair. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth, amazed by its sweetness, and stroked it with her own. He growled and her body flushed with an awakened, raging desire. Her nipples peaked beneath her leine, sending sharp, exquisite jolts to her core as she shifted, opening her mouth wider.
Rathe flexed his fingers, digging them into the soft flesh of her buttocks as he pressed his stiffening cock into the softness of her abdomen. Her toes curled as a wicked thrill of anticipation shuddered through her.
An older, feminine voice echoed up the narrow stairway just behind Rathe. He tore his lips away from Leah’s, wrenching a small gasp from her throat, and drew her against the wall. He threw a low, throaty Gaelic phrase over his shoulder, which was met with a derisive snort from the older servant woman as she passed them on the way up the stairs.
Leah buried her face in the crook of Rathe’s neck, her heart pounding in mortification. He remained motionless until the woman’s footfalls faded into the corridor above.
Chuckling, he pressed his lips to the top of her head in a reassuring kiss. “I believe she is gone.”
She shook her head as humiliation weighed down her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t even know you.”
He pried her face away and coaxed her chin up with the back of his index finger. “But you want me. And I have a fierce need for you, lass. I can only pray your husband will live nowhere near me, otherwise I fear I may not be able to stay away from you.”
She might not make it back to Graham land. She might be held hostage and forced into this marriage against her will anyway. She might never return home, remaining forever stuck in a time better known for its cruelty toward women than its freedoms. Restricting women’s movements, their speech, and their souls. This might be the last choice she would ever make for herself.
The veil of shyness parted and all at once the warm hardness of Rathe’s body, his soothing breath on her skin, and rhythmic pulse beneath his flesh consumed her.
She pressed a soft kiss along the corner of his mouth. “Take me upstairs.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
He grabbed her hand and guided her up the stairs. As they reached the top, he paused and looked up and down the corridor. “It is safe. Lead the way.”
Leah nodded, appreciative of his understanding she preferred discreetness, especially after getting caught in the stairwell with his hands and mouth all over her.
She padded down the hallway to her chamber, attempting to slow her breathing so her whisky-sotted head wouldn’t swirl quite so freely as she moved. The soft glow of firelight seeped out from beneath the closed door. She paused with her hand on the handle to allow her building anxiety a chance to settle down.
He pulled her hair away from her shoulder and dropped his lips to her neck as he slipped one hand around her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting as he planted slow, languid kisses up to her ear. His hand skimmed her stomach and moved upward until it cupped one breast. She bit down hard on her lower lip as his thumb stroked back and forth over her aching nipple, sending erotic shivers through her flesh.
He nipped at her earlobe. “Open the door, lass.”
No. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sleep with a perfect stranger.
Yes. She was going to do this. Consequences be damned. She pulled the latch on the door and shoved it open. Reaching back, she grabbed his free hand and pulled him into the room behind her.
Two women rose from their positions near the fire and Leah stopped short, her eyes widening.
Shit.
A hole needed to open up in the floor and swallow her whole. She’d forgotten about the two young servants whom Mary had assigned to her. Even after two whole weeks of servants assisting her morning and night, she still hadn’t gotten used to their presence.
Rathe’s hand was still on her breast. Leah gasped and shoved it away as she stepped out of his embrace. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she froze in the middle of the room, speechless.
He rescued her. He stepped toward the women and spoke in Gaelic. Their faces remained expressionless as they nodded at him and then turned to curtsey to Leah before leaving the room.
The door clicked closed just as a large flame leaped high into the air from the crackling fire in the hearth. She jumped along with the flame, now on edge in the rigid silence.
Rathe strode past her, loosening his belt.
Oh God.
Every nerve in her body threatened to revolt and send her flying out of the room. She struggled for each shallow breath and wrapped her arms around her stomach as he wound the belt into a circle around his hand.
“What did you say to them?” she whispered.
He shrugged, setting the belt upon a low, red-cushioned bench near the window. “I simply told them their services were not needed tonight and they should tend to you in the morning.”
She groaned, her face falling into her hands as humiliation burned through her. “They’re going to tell everyone, aren’t they?”
His hands wrapped around her wrists and pulled them away from her face. “They will not tell anyone. At least no one of import. They know better than to spill the secrets of those in their charge.”
“Are you sure?”
He smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “Yes. But just in case I will find them in the morning. A mere coin or two will ensure their continued silence.”
He was going to pay them off? Ugh, how humiliating.
He released her and yanked his tunic and leine up over his head, then tossed them onto the bench. Her eyes followed the movement as she concentrated on taking deep, even breaths.
But then he was before her, slipping his fingers around her belt. “You are nervous.”
She could lie. Perhaps insisting upon her confidence would help her to feel it. But she didn’t have the fortitude. She turned her head toward him until one roped biceps came into view. “A little.”
The empty whisky cup and decanter still sat on a low table near the bed, just past Rathe. The decanter probably held more of the dangerous liquid. She chewed her bottom lip. Perhaps just a bit more might get her to relax.
His chest rumbled with a low laugh. “No, lass. I will not be allowing you any more whisky.”
Leah’s head snapped forward. “What? How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I watched your eyes. Besides, I could taste it on your lips.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. Where was a breath mint when you needed one? “I’m so sorry! I don’t normally
drink so much, but—”
“I like whisky, you have no complaints from me. I just want you awake.”
She dropped her eyes to his chest, her cheeks heating again. Even when she had lost her virginity to the sweet, unassuming computer programming major she’d dated for a short time during her junior year of college, she had not acted like such a bumbling idiot.
“You have been married before?” He slid the fingers of his other hand around her belt.
“No.” She gulped as his arm flexed and the belt loosened around her. “Just engaged.”
“Engaged?” His brow crinkled, giving him a boyish air.
“It’s kind of like betrothed,” she explained with a gulp. “We were supposed to be married last month.”
Rathe paused and then slid the belt from her hips. “But he took you to his bed before that?”
“Well, yes, but—”
Grabbing fistfuls of the light-green dress overlaying her leine, he pulled up on the garment and lifted it over her head. He turned his back to her and folded it.
Leah shivered. But now he wasn’t watching her and her gaze fell along the contours of each well-defined, powerfully built muscle from broad shoulders to narrow hips. His body pulled at something deep and primitive within her. Her pussy rippled in anticipation.
He laid the garment on the bench next to his clothing and then sat upon the edge of the bed to remove his brown leather boots. Setting them off to the side, he extended one hand out to her. “Come.”
She placed her shaking hand in his. Did she really want to do this? She had never been with anyone other than Simon in many years. He was a man of simple pleasures—namely the missionary position after a successful night of fantasy football or the completion of a tough case at work. And even then it wasn’t like the other two men she’d been with were rock stars beneath the sheets. Would she even know what to do with a man like Rathe?
His warm fingers wrapped around hers and he pulled her toward him, guiding her between his thighs. “I think it is time I took a look at that hip.”
Leah held her breath as he slipped the soft leather shoes and knitted socks off her feet. Drawing her leine up until it reached her knees, he slid his hands underneath the hem, laying his warm, rough palms along the sides of her bare thighs and up to her hips.
