by Amy Tolnitch
Would he take her like this? Standing? Leaning against the door? At the very idea, Agatha felt a bolt of desire rip through her and knew she would let him, would love every part of it. This big man could do anything to her.
“Breagha,” he whispered. “Your skin is like the softest velvet.” He smoothed his fingers down her buttocks. “The color of rich cream.”
His fingers moved lower and Agatha closed her eyes.
“Your hair is a fine, bright silk,” he said softly.
And then he slid his calloused fingers across her dampness, and Agatha fought to stay on her feet. It was impossible. Her legs would not support her, and she slipped down to the floor.
Lugh let her slide but never moved his hand, teasing her with slow strokes, exploring her in a way she had never felt.
Agatha pushed against his hand, filled with an odd anxiousness.
“Easy, love.” He wrapped a thick arm around her waist and found a place on Agatha’s body that took the last scrap of her sanity and threw it to the heavens.
“Ahh,” she moaned. What was he doing? With flicks of his finger, he brought forth a pressure in her center, rising with each touch. She gasped for breath and could not find it.
He pushed a finger into her body and stroked her swollen nub in circles.
“Lugh,” she gasped. “I—”
“Let go, my love. This is for you,” he said with a groan. He intensified his movements and Agatha surrendered.
She bucked against his hand, keening her pleasure as a tidal wave rose within her, burning, tightening until she exploded, convulsing around his finger and crying out her release.
Within an instant, he flipped her around and kissed her. Kissed her as if she were the most beautiful, precious woman in all the world.
He drew back and smiled. “You bring me to my knees.”
Agatha crooked a smile. “I think that was my position.”
Lugh threw his head back and laughed, then picked her up as if she weighed no more than a butterfly and carried her into the bath.
Then he taught her just how much pleasure could be had in mating, and Agatha knew her life had taken an irrevocable change.
Chapter 12
It took Amice over an hour of searching and when she finally found Cain, she halted in disbelief. He was outside, flat on his back with a child balanced atop his raised legs, her small hands outstretched in his. The girl was shrieking with laughter, yelling “Again, again,” and Cain was rocking her back and forth.
The expression on Cain’s face was one Amice had not seen in five years. Carefree, unrestrained happiness. He laughed with the child, voicing protests but continuing to play.
She must have made some sound, because he looked back and spotted her. His smile eased, and he set the child back on the ground.
When the girl stood, Amice saw that one of her legs was shorter than the other. Her brown curls bobbed when she moved in a kind of hop.
Cain got up and the girl took his hand.
For a moment, Amice could only stare at them, caught in a vision of what might have been. The girl looked to be about five years of age. The same age Cain and her daughter would have been.
“Amice?” Cain asked, a frown crossing his face. “Are you all right?”
She gulped. “Nay. I have something to show you though.”
He raised a brow.
“’Tis not for the eyes of a child.”
Cain leaned down and whispered something to the girl. She grinned and scampered off toward the kitchen, hitching along with her odd gait.
Amice’s heart tightened in her chest. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Olive. She is from Hazelstone.”
“Her parents?”
“’Twas only the mother. Her father abandoned them when Olive’s condition became apparent.” His mouth flattened. “Woodford butchered her mother.”
“What is to become of her now?”
“She shall stay here.” He gave her a soft smile. “She seems to have adopted me.”
Amice’s eyes burned and she looked down.
Cain coughed. “What is it you have to show me?”
“Is there a place we can sit?”
Cain looked around and pointed toward the garden. “The garden. ‘Twould be best.”
Amice walked beside him in silence. She tried hard to avoid speculating on what her child might have been like, what life could have been if Cain had married her and she had borne their daughter. It was too painful, too heart wrenching to think about. But to see him playing with Olive brought it all to mind.
She hardened her heart. She would have a child of her own to hold if naught for Cain’s betrayal.
They settled on a stone bench, and Amice handed him the box.
Cain looked at her with curiosity.
“Laila and I found a hidden chamber at the ground level of the east tower.”
“A hidden room?”
“Aye.”
Cain shook his head. “What was in it? What was it used for?”
Amice bit her lip. “We think it was a place where Muriel and Gerard met in secret.”
“Why?”
She handed him the roll of parchment and looked away.
“My God,” he whispered as he took in the drawings. “Damn, but my ancestor was a fine artist. And quite a handsome man.”
At the laughter in his voice, Amice turned back.
Cain was doing much the same thing she had done, tilting his head from side to side as if trying to determine how such a position might be accomplished. He laughed aloud and put the drawing in front of Amice’s face.
Her cheeks heated and she could not meet his gaze.
“What think you of this one?”
Amice rolled her eyes. “I think a person would need to train for that one, my lord.”
“Pleasurable training, indeed.”
She did meet his gaze then and was caught by the hunger glittering in his eyes. “Indeed,” she choked out.
Cain cleared his throat and put the drawings down. “So, Gerard and Muriel were lovers.”
“Obviously.” Amice gestured toward the box. “Open it.”
When he flipped open the lid, the rubies caught the sunlight and gleamed bright red against the burnished gold. It was as if the stones absorbed the sun and reflected it back threefold. Cain stared, openmouthed, then looked at Amice in clear puzzlement.
Cain held the necklace up in the light. “All this time. A fortune lay within my own walls,” he said softly.
“It belonged to Muriel.”
“How do you know?”
Reluctantly, Amice unrolled the parchment and held up the drawing of Muriel wearing the jewelry.
Cain slowly lowered the necklace and stared at the picture. “He did love her.”
Amice cautioned a glance at the drawing and came to a heartrending realization. She knew that look. On that face. Or rather, on Cain’s face when he looked at her during their lovemaking. She swallowed. “Perhaps. Or mayhap he was simply caught up in the moment.”
With a snort, Cain shook his head. “He loved her. That look is not mere lust.”
Embarrassed, Amice looked down at her hands. “Laila believes the necklace must be returned to Muriel.”
“Returned? To a ghost?”
“Aye.”
“And how might we accomplish that?”
Amice lifted her brows. “Bury it with her, I suppose.”
Cain gazed at her incredulously. “Bury a fortune just to appease that troublesome wraith? You jest.”
“You do want to get rid of her.”
“And you think this will do it?”
“I do not know,” Amice admitted with a sigh. “I intend to try to find out more from Muriel.”
Cain frowned and turned the necklace over in his hands. “I will need a very good reason to give up something so valuable.”
“I understand.” And well she did. Cain’s quest for wealth and security governed his life.
&nb
sp; “You shall try to summon her this eve?”
“Aye.”
“I want to be there.”
Amice opened her mouth to protest, then stopped. Perhaps having the man there who happened to look just like Gerard Veuxfort would prompt Muriel to reveal more about their relationship. “Very well.” She stood and looked toward the bathhouse.
And gasped in astonishment.
Before she could help it, Amice let out a little cry, then pressed her hand against her mouth.
Cain leapt up beside her. “What the hell?”
Lugh and Agatha did not even see them. They gazed at each other with reverence between exchanging long, deep kisses. From the dampness of their hair, it was apparent they had been together in the bathhouse.
“MacKeir!” Cain shouted. “What are you doing to my sister?”
Lugh stopped short and dropped his arms. Wide-eyed, he looked first at Cain, then at Amice, then back at Agatha. Agatha looked as if she had just swallowed something too big to chew.
Amice started laughing. “I should think it obvious,” she managed to spit out.
Cain gave her a black look. “Well?” he said to Lugh.
“I… ah, well hell,” Lugh finished. He held up his palms and looked at Amice. “I am sorry. I was overcome.”
Amice beamed a smile toward Agatha, who inched closer to Lugh. “I am happy for you, Lugh.”
“You shall marry her,” Cain ordered in a tight voice.
Lugh’s eyes lit up, then he gave Cain a measuring look. “’Twould be my privilege. I would not disgrace your sister.” He pulled Agatha away, murmuring soft words of reassurance amidst Agatha’s squeaks of embarrassment.
Cain rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “What next?”
“At least Agatha will be married,” Amice said in a low tone. At least Lugh has the honor to do right by her, she wanted to say. At least he does not use her, then walk away as if naught of significance transpired.
He turned his probing gaze on her. “But what of you?”
“I am free.” Amice suddenly realized what this meant. She was not bound for the cold, remoteness of Tunvegan, but could journey to Villa Delphino when this was all over. Away from Cain, she thought with a painful thud.
“You are not dismayed?”
Amice shook her head. “Nay. I am not the right woman for Lugh. Though I would not have predicted the one would be Agatha.”
“I should have seen it coming. The first time he saw her, I half thought he would leap upon her right in the hall.”
“Agatha is strong enough to handle Lugh.”
“From the look on his face, ‘twill not take much.” He sighed and gathered up the parchment and the box. “Lugh MacKeir for a brother-in-law.”
“He is a good man.”
Cain paused and gazed closely at her. “It was never my intention to dishonor you, Amice.”
Her throat closed and she looked away. “Leave it be, Cain.”
She sensed the heat of his stare, and then he walked out of the garden. Amice fisted her hands and forced back the burning tears.
Chapter 13
Amice had never seen her brother look so angry. “He did what?” Rand asked in a tight voice.
“You heard me. ‘Twas obvious he and Agatha had been together in the bathhouse.”
Rand’s face reddened. “I shall beat him into the dirt for this insult.”
Amice laid a hand on his arm. “Nay, Rand, leave it be. I did not wish to marry Lugh, you know that.”
“But he was betrothed to you.”
“He knew I did not love him,” Amice said softly.
“What does that have to with anything? People do not marry for love.”
“Some do.”
“Peasants. We do not have that luxury.”
Amice stared at him. “I am happy for them, Rand. And I am happy to be free of the betrothal.”
Rand took her hands. “Are you sure? I can force him to marry you.”
“Nay. That is not the life I want.”
“What kind of life do you want, Amice?”
“Once Mother is gone,” she said slowly, “I shall journey to this Villa Delphino.”
“Why must you leave England? You can stay at Wareham, you know that. You shall always have a place there.”
Amice turned to stare out the window. “There is nothing in England for me but heartbreak, Rand.”
“So you wish to run away.”
Amice bit her lip and nodded. “I suppose I do.”
“Is it Cain Veuxfort?”
“Aye.”
Rand was silent so long Amice finally turned back to look at him. He gazed at her thoughtfully. “Do you wish to wed him?”
Amice’s breath caught in her throat. “Nay,” she said flatly.
“Why not?”
“He… will never see me for who I really am. In his eyes, I am incapable of loving one man and just short of being a witch.”
“Idiot.”
“Aye, but there it is.”
“We need to get back to Wareham.”
“You go. I shall not return until I possess the villa. It is my salvation,” she finished in a whisper.
Rand dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I shall leave on the morrow.” He frowned. “But not before I have a talk with Lugh MacKeir.”
“Rand.”
“A talk. I feel partly responsible for this muddle. Lugh was insistent on wedding you. And I thought it would make you happy once you accepted it.” He shook his head. “But he should have spoken to me before taking another woman.”
Amice’s lips twitched. “I got the impression it was not something he planned.”
“Even so. A man should have more control than that.”
Amice thought of Cain. It was obvious how much he hated losing control. How he could love her with such savage gentleness, then turn a cool gaze on her was unfathomable. It was as if there were two Cains.
She managed a shrug. “Do not be too hard on Lugh, Rand. I truly am happy for both of them and happy to be free of the betrothal.”
“Very well.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “I shall see you at supper.”
“Aye. I am going to rest a bit.”
“You do look tired. Are you ill?”
“Nay.”
He peered closely at her, and Amice felt as if he could see Cain’s brand on her face. “Are you sure? You look a bit flushed.”
“I am just tired.” She smiled and pushed him toward the door. “Now, go so I can rest.”
With a last glance of concern, Rand mercifully left. Amice sat on the windowseat gazing out at the sea. As she watched the waves pound ceaselessly against the shore, she felt an odd calm descend over her.
It was time she moved forward with her life. Relegate Cain to a buried, painful part of the past and build some kind of future. She realized she had always been waiting for him to come back to her. Against all odds, without even knowing of his wife’s death. Holding herself suspended, her heart carefully preserved for him.
But he did not want her heart.
It was time she faced the truth.
Amice lay on the bed, curled into a ball, and buried her face in the pillow.
It was time to give up and pursue a new dream.
Piers found Gifford and Laila huddled close together in Gifford’s workroom, Laila gazing at Gifford’s palm. Their conversation broke off abruptly when he walked in.
“Piers, my boy, what brings you here?”
He looked suspiciously at Gifford, then Laila. “What are you two doing?”
Gifford took a gulp of ale. “Laila is telling my fortune.”
Piers blinked. “Can you do that?”
Laila sent him a serene smile. “Sometimes.”
He moved to take a stool next to Gifford and tipped ale down his throat. “Well, what lies in Gifford’s future?”
Gifford cracked out a laugh. “A long life, many grand-nieces and -nephews and maybe, just maybe a chance to meet t
he great Merlin himself.”
“Good tidings, indeed.”
“You do not believe me,” Laila commented.
Piers shrugged. “I doubt anyone can see into the future.”
“Give me your hand,” she said.
When Piers hesitated, Gifford gave him a nudge. “Go on, do not be afraid.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Then give her your hand.”
Piers gulped down more ale and put his hand into Laila’s smaller ones. She traced the lines in his palm and touched her fingertips against the pulse in his wrist. Her gaze narrowed in concentration and she closed her eyes.
“Well?” Gifford asked.
Fighting the urge to snatch back his hand, Piers forced himself to patience. It was a silly trick, but he liked Laila enough to humor her.
“You run from one experience to another without really appreciating any of them,” Laila began.
“Women,” Gifford quipped. “She has you there, boy.”
Piers rolled his eyes. “’Tis no secret I enjoy women.”
“Shh,” Laila whispered. She furrowed her brow and slowly smiled. “You shall soon face a great challenge that will test your ability to slow down and focus. And you will discover a great love. But,” she looked up at him, “she will not be at all what you expected and to win her you must uncover what lies deepest in your heart.”
Piers stared at her. Become more like Cain? Settle with one woman? He shook his head. “Interesting.”
Laila smiled knowingly at him. “Remember my words when your destiny finds you.”
Gifford slapped him on the back. “Mayhap some of my great-nieces and -nephews will be yours.”
“I doubt that, Uncle.” Piers reached for the jug of ale. He hoped neither Laila nor Gifford noticed his hand shook. “Cain is the one who needs to beget children.”
“Hmm.” Gifford stroked his chin. “Any ideas on that, Laila?”
“He and Amice belong to each other. They have been heartmates in many lives.”
Her voice held such certainty Piers felt a chill across the back of his neck. “Not sure it is going to happen in this one.”
Gifford tossed back a drink and slapped his hands on the table. “We need to do something! I am tired of watching Cain go through life without living it.”
