“Aye, as did everyone else. ’Tis no bother,” Morainn said. “The work helps me keep my mind off the reason I am hiding here.”
“’Tis nay work a guest in my home should have to do.” He walked over to her and held out one of the drinks he had poured. “Here. Pause for a wee while in your work, sit, and share some wine with me.”
Taking the drink, Morainn allowed him to lead her to a chair set before the fireplace. He took the other chair for himself and turned it slightly so that he could face her across the small table set between them. Morainn took a drink, savoring the smooth rich taste of a wine only those with a full purse could afford to drink.
She felt warmed by his attention, realizing that she had become starved for it, but knew it was not wise to sit there with him as though she were his equal. The craving to see him, to bask in the warmth of his smiles or his gaze, and to let the sound of his deep voice stroke her would have passed after a brief absence. This interlude, fleeting as it had to be, would only work to keep such cravings strong.
“Have ye had any more dreams?” he asked.
“Nay, there have been no more visions about the killers.”
Morainn prayed Tormand would think the blush she could feel heating her cheeks was due to a shyness, a maiden’s natural unease over being alone with a man, and not press her any harder concerning her dreams. The dreams she had been having lately were not ones she wished to share with the object of them. They were the sort that left her aching with need for him. For a woman who had never had a man, had never even enjoyed a willingly shared kiss, she was astonished at how quickly her mind could fill with images of Tormand naked, of the two of them entwined flesh to flesh. What troubled her most was that she could actually feel the heat of his kiss and the touch of his hands long after the dream had ended. Realizing that just thinking about her dreams was making her feel needy, Morainn hurriedly tried to think of something to say to distract herself.
“I am curious as to why Simon hasnae asked me to hold another hairpin,” she said and almost cursed.
She had heard her voice waver a little as she had said the man’s name. It still made her uneasy to use the informality they had all insisted upon. Worse, she had just strongly implied that she was anxious to touch another one of those cursed hairpins. Although she truly wanted to help find the killers, she was still reluctant to suffer through another vision of the monsters at their evil work. What she had seen in that vision often slithered through her mind making her feel very afraid.
“I thought I had made it understood that I am willing to help,” she forced herself to say.
Tormand wanted desperately to ask her why the talk of dreams made her blush. He had been tormented by heated dreams, ones that made him wake up achingly hard and asweat with a need he had never felt before. However, despite his occasional bouts of jealousy that had him imagining Morainn with a long trail of lovers behind her, all Tormand’s instincts told him that she was an innocent. He would be willing to wager his growing fortune that she had very little knowledge of the pleasures a man and a woman could share. Just the thought of being the man to introduce her to those pleasures made his blood race through his veins. Smiling faintly, he allowed her the change of subject.
“Simon was hesitant to inflict another such violent vision upon ye even as we rode to your cottage that day,” he said. “Seeing and hearing what had happened to ye in the night made him even more so.”
“I cannae say that I wish to suffer through another one, but these killings must stop.”
“We are agreed on that.”
“The wounds they suffered may cause them to retreat for a wee while, but since the dog lost their trail out of the wood, what I might glean from the hairpins is even more important, isnae it?”
“Aye, it is, although I cannae like it.” He grimaced. “And since Magda and her lassies have probably told the whole town that I have brought in the witch to help save myself from hanging, we may as weel try.”
Morainn gasped in shock. “Nay, she wouldnae say such things, would she? She worked for ye. She cannae believe ye would butcher women like that.”
Tormand shrugged. “I paid her weel, too, but she never liked me. Refused to stay here after dark and watched her lasses as if she expected me to hurl them to the floor and ravish them at any moment. Magda made it verra clear, right from the start, that she thought I was a lecherous swine who was headed straight into hell’s fires.”
“And ye let her stay? Ye continued to pay her?”
“She was a good cook and she kept the house and my clothing clean. ’Tis all I wanted from the woman and it wasnae so difficult to stay out of her way. I am here to represent my kin at the court and dinnae need to lurk about my home all the day. At least until now.”
“Weel, I am certain that will soon end and I dinnae mind the work.” She finished the last of her wine and stood up. “’Tis also something I must return to or there will be naught for ye to eat this night.”
Tormand also stood up and tried to think of a way to keep her with him for a little while longer. As she started toward the door, he lightly grasped her hand to stop her. Just touching her sent a wave of heat straight to his groin. He knew he was a weak man when it came to women and the pleasure and ease he could find in their soft bodies, but he would wager that the most pious of men would find it a challenge to resist the kind of fire and passion Morainn promised to reward him with. The faint shiver that went through her body and the hint of desire’s flush upon her cheeks told Tormand that Morainn felt the same tug of need that he did.
“Are ye verra certain ye can endure another hard vision?” he asked, deciding that revisiting that topic was better than telling her what was really in his mind. Despite his confusion over what he was feeling for this woman, he did know that telling Morainn he ached to get her naked and take her on his desk would not get her to linger in his company.
“Oh, aye, I can endure it. I recovered from the last one.”
“Barely.”
“A few harsh images do still haunt me, but that cannae be allowed to matter. These people mean to keep on killing and it has to be stopped.” Morainn knew she should pull her hand free of his, but her hand did not seem to be inclined to listen to good sense. “My weakness then was born mostly of shock. I hadnae expected the vision to hit me so hard. In truth, I hadnae considered the violence I might see, even though I kenned the hairpin was found in the place where the woman was tortured and killed. But, I havenae had any experience with such things, never e’en thought of them despite the blood I saw when I dreamed. Now I ken weel what I might see and feel and I am prepared for the horror of it all. I will do it because we both ken that I could see something of great importance. Simon need nay worry about me. He but needs to choose a time for me to take hold of the wretched thing.”
“Then I will speak to him about it.” He slowly tugged her closer to him until their bodies were almost touching. “Now, tell me of your dreams, Morainn.”
“I told ye. I have seen naught of the killers or their plans.” Morainn was not surprised to hear how soft and breathless her voice was; being so close to Tormand made it impossible to think, let alone speak clearly.
He touched a kiss to her temple, savoring the taste of her soft skin. “Tell me, Morainn, do ye dream of me? I dream of ye,” he whispered before she could answer.
“I dinnae see why ye should.”
Pull away, a voice whispered in Morainn’s desire-clouded mind, but she lacked the will to obey the warning. She knew she should immediately stop him from placing those feather-soft kisses on her face, each one of which added to the fire spreading through her veins. Instead of pulling away as all her instincts told her to, she moved even closer to him. When he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his body, she felt weak in the knees from the waves of desire crashing through her. The man was the greatest threat to her virtue and heart she had ever confronted and yet she could not seem to care.
“Why should
nae I?” He gave her a gentle kiss, careful not to push her too hard despite how badly his body was screaming out its need for her. “Ye have eyes a mon wants to stare into for hours, as he tries to unearth all of your secrets and mysteries. Ah, and this mouth.” He lightly nipped at her full bottom lip. “Warm, sweet honey. Soft as the finest silk and full of fire. In my dreams I have often felt this mouth upon my skin.”
Just as she had felt the warmth of his mouth upon hers. Morainn knew this further proof that they had been sharing dreams should alarm her, but then he gently nipped at her earlobe. The light graze of his teeth against that sensitive skin made her cling tightly to his strong body. All the desire that she had dreamed of swept over her now and Morainn felt a faint tickle of fear. The press of Tormand’s lips upon hers pushed that fear aside. She opened her mouth to him at the first nudge of his tongue, craving the taste of him.
Tormand was not surprised to hear himself groan as he deepened his kiss. Morainn’s taste was intoxicating. His whole body felt painfully taut with need. He wanted to lie her down now and strip the clothes from her lush body. He wanted to taste every inch of her soft golden skin and bury himself so deep inside her that he could not find his way out again.
It was increasingly difficult to keep a tight leash upon his rising desire. There had been too many dreams that had left him aching, hungry and unsatisfied. Tormand struggled hard to grab hold of some control, however, for he could taste the innocence in Morainn’s kiss. Even the way she moved into his arms was faintly awkward, even tentative, and told him that she had never had a lover. Yet again the thought that he might be the first to taste her passion slipped into his head and stirred his blood so much he knew he had to pull back a little.
Reluctantly ending the kiss, Tormand turned his attention to her long, graceful neck. He slowly ran his tongue over the rapid pulse in her throat, feeling exultant over that proof that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Through the haze of passion clouding his mind came the realization that he had never bedded an innocent before. There was a good reason for that, but he did not care to recall what it was, not if it meant he had to let go of Morainn.
“Ye have had dreams about me, havenae ye, Morainn?” He prayed his assumption was right or he was going to feel like a complete idiot. “Dreams about the two of us doing this, holding each other close, kissing.”
“Aye,” she whispered. “Sinful dreams.”
“Nay, beautiful dreams of fire and need.” He slowly stroked his hands over her hips, soaking in her gasp of pleasure at his touch. “Sweet dreams of loving each other, tasting each other’s desire.”
His voice was pure seduction, Morainn thought. The touch of hungry desire making his deep voice husky only added to the power of it. She felt as if she was on fire and would die unless he quenched the blaze. Even as she thought of how much she needed his hand on her breast, it was there. She pressed herself into his caress, the shock of being touched so intimately swiftly buried beneath her craving for that touch.
Tormand could barely stand he was so full of want for the woman he held in his arms. Even as he looked around for someplace to lie her down and make love to her, he continued to stroke her, kiss her, and keep her beautiful passion running hot and free. Then his gaze settled on the open door and his mind began to push aside desire’s demands. Although he wanted to keep her aching and needy for him, he was not sure how he could do it and go shut the door at the same time.
Then, to his utter dismay, the door was pushed all the way open. Morainn leapt back from him at the sound, as if he were a man with a wife and that wife had just come home, armed with a sword and blood in her eye. Tormand watched as her expression changed rapidly from one of desire to one of embarrassment. Knowing she would now retreat from him, try to pull together all her control and reserve, he silently cursed and looked around for the one who had interrupted them. He was just envisioning all the extremely painful punishments he would inflict upon the one who had ended the fulfillment of his dreams, when he heard a now familiar faint stomping sound. Tormand ceased looking for a man and looked down. William was the intruder and the cat was swaggering toward Tormand’s desk as if it was not aware that it was very close to being skinned.
It required several deep breaths to tamp down the hunger gnawing at his insides, but Tormand was finally calm enough to look at Morainn and he almost smiled. Her delicate hands fluttered like nervous sparrows between straightening her skirts and smoothing down some unseen tangles in her thick hair. Now that he was a little calmer, he knew it would have been a mistake to give in to his needs. Morainn should be made love to gently and in a bed, as he was almost certain it would be her first time with a man.
Just as he was about to take her hand in his and say a few sweet words to soothe away the embarrassment she so obviously suffered from, there was the sound of things hitting the floor. He watched as Morainn gasped and raced toward his desk. With a sinking feeling in his belly, Tormand slowly turned to look toward his desk. William sat there on a bare desktop. Everything that had been in the place where the cat now sat calmly watching him was scattered on the floor and a softly scolding Morainn was busy picking it all up.
Tormand had the fleeting thought to race over there, grab her, and push her out of his ledger room, but he knew he was already too late to save himself. He glared at the cat, briefly nursing the thought that the animal had done this on purpose. The beast certainly looked pleased with itself. Then he heard Morainn gasp and, with an icy cold curling itself around his insides, he turned to look at her. She stood there with a few papers in her hand and, as he watched the color slowly seep from her cheeks, he knew just what she was reading. His mind frantically searched for words he could use to soothe her shock, but found nothing. What could he say to soften the blow of the ugly truth?
Morainn stared at the papers in her hand. She wanted to just set them aside as she had the heavy ledger book, but she could not take her eyes from the top sheet. It had taken only one quick glance at it for her attention to be caught and held. It was a list of names with three names ominously crossed off. For one brief, panic-stricken moment, she feared Tormand really was the killer, but then her senses recovered enough from the shock she was feeling for her to cast aside that mad idea. She had already met the true killers.
This was the list Simon had mentioned once. A list of all of Tormand’s lovers, or at least the ones he could remember. And, she realized, the ones living near enough to be in danger from the killers. She read name after name on the list, a list that continued on the back in his elegant handwriting. Unless he was done, he was going to need more paper.
Beneath her shock was a deep, searing pain, but Morainn fought to push it away. She did not want this man to see that he had hurt her. Despite how she had just been melting in his arms like a wanton, she did have her pride. It was all people had left her with and she would cling to it. In a strange way that pride helped to smother at least some of the pain she felt.
Rage came next, cutting sharply through all that pain and the shame she felt for being such a fool. He was trying to use her to fill his bed just as he had so many other women. Despite his talk of dreams and sweet flatteries, she was no more to him than a warm body that happened to be at hand at a time when he was forced to stay close to home.
She had been a fool to think they had truly shared dreams. That was probably just some lie to weaken her resistance to him. She had come here to help him, to try to find the real killers so that he did not find himself with a noose around his neck, and he showed his gratitude by trying to make her one of his whores. At this moment, Morainn was not sure she cared if he did hang. In truth, she rather savored the vision of kicking the block out from beneath his feet. She glared at him. She would hide her pain and the shame she could not seem to shake, but she would let him see her fury.
“Did ye think ye needed a few more names?” she asked, a little astonished by the cold fury in her voice.
“Simon asked me to make a list so t
hat we might ken which women are in danger,” he answered truthfully, thinking that she looked glorious in her fury even as it made him fear that he had lost her before he had even had a chance to make her his own.
“Ye would need the king’s army to protect all these women.”
“I wasnae trying to add ye to a list,” he said, but could tell by the look she gave him that he might as well have been spitting into the wind. “I dinnae think of ye as I did those women.”
“Nay? Ye didnae whisper sweet words to them? Didnae try to get them into your bed? I have kenned ye but a handful of days and already ye try to seduce me.” She tossed the papers onto his desk. “Did ye speak to any of them about dreams? ’Twas a clever thing to do. Ye kenned I hold a strong belief in the importance of dreams.”
“Morainn, everything I said to ye was the truth.” He reached out toward her, but she nimbly avoided his touch. “What I feel for ye is like nothing I ever felt for any of those women.”
She desperately wanted to believe him and that made her afraid. “We are in your ledger room with the door open and ye nearly had me on the floor with my skirts tossed up and ye expect me to believe ye see me as more than a warm body to fill your bed? How do ye expect me to believe I am different from them? Ye are so practiced in soft words and the ways to touch a lass ye could probably seduce a nun. But, Sir Tormand, I willnae be but another name on your list. I have little to claim in name or property, but I do have my pride, and I willnae sacrifice it just so ye can have another woman to play your games with.”
Tormand cursed as she strode out of the door. He cursed even more when he heard Simon greet her. Not only had he lost Morainn, but now everyone would know he had and, worse, know how low her opinion of him was. He glared at the cat still sitting on his desk, feeling foolish for blaming an animal for what had happened, but needing some place to throw his anger.
Highland Sinner Page 12
