Sebastien released her into her maid’s care, but did not leave the room. Turning his back, he tugged off his own wet clothes and found a dry pair of trews in his trunk. By the time he’d changed, Lara was sitting in the chair wrapped in a thick blanket. With a glance, he dismissed Margaret, who looked for a moment as though she would disobey his order to go.
He threw another piece of wood into the hearth and stoked the fire until it burned hotter. Then he crouched before Lara and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he reached up and touched her cheek. She did not pull away.
“It would have been better if you had forced your way in,” she whispered.
Her words surprised him. “Forced my way in?”
“Into the castle. Into my bed.”
Sebastien shook his head. “That is not my way.” It had never been his way. When others preferred force, he went out of his way to avoid it. Force was the stupid man’s method of getting what he wanted—and he had not gotten this far by being stupid.
“No, it is not,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “You prefer guile and manipulation. By not forcing me, you have won everyone in Dunstaffnage to your side.”
“Save one.” He outlined her mouth with the tip of his finger. “For that one, I would give up all the rest.”
Her lips parted then and she searched his face. “I cannot give in to you. I cannot be the wife you want without betraying everything I am.”
Her voice shook as she told him the heart of her problem. He’d known it; she had told him in so many ways without the words being spoken. She had more honor in her soul than most of the warriors he’d faced in battle. This woman fought for her conscience when others sold theirs.
“Then you give me no choice but to force you,” he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. Her hands clutched at the blanket, but she did not fight him.
“Men…people of honor can serve on each side of a battle,” he began. He lifted her chin and brought her mouth closer to his so that his breath spilled onto her as he spoke. “This battle is not between the clans, is it,” he whispered as he touched his lips to hers and then drew back. “It is between Scotland and England.”
Sebastien kissed a path down her neck to the edge of the blanket, which she now held so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Robert stands for Scotland in the same way you have been standing for your clan.” He kissed the slope of her breast. “In good conscience.” He nipped back up to her chin. “With integrity.” He touched her mouth with his and then looked into her eyes. “With honor.”
His body surged just as it had earlier when she watched him from the window. Everything in him was screaming for him to take her now, but he knew it would be a mistake. It must be her decision. It must be.
“Have I not kept my word to you?” he asked. She frowned at his words. “Have I not kept any promise made to you since I came here on the orders of my king?” He gave her a moment to remember all the steps along their path and how he had been true to his word.
“I cannot think when you touch me like this,” she complained.
He let his hands wander over her, sliding over the blanket, knowing by the shivers and shudders that she could feel him. “Nay, Lara, the problem is that all you have been doing is thinking. It is time to trust.”
He took her face in his hands. “Can you trust me?” He hoped he was correct in his knowledge of her. He prayed that his gut instinct was right, or he would lose everything…He would lose her.
She did not give an answer quickly, but then nodded slightly.
“I swear to you on my honor that Robert should be king of Scotland. I swear he is the rightful and legitimate king and that I follow him willingly and without reservation. Other men of honor who have fought against him now come to his side. Men and women of good conscience support his claim. Can you trust me in this and come to my side?”
He kissed her then, openmouthed with all the passion he’d felt for these last weeks and weeks. He tasted her and his tongue touched hers, in and out, in and out, until she gasped for breath.
“Do not make me choose, Sebastien,” she begged him. “Do not.” She clutched at his hands now.
“You would not respect or trust me if I force you in this. It must be your choice.” He dropped his hands from her and moved back. In his soul he prayed that she knew he would not betray her. That he would keep her safe. That they could live together.
“So, look now into your heart and tell me. For the good of clan and country, indeed even for your own good and mine, do you continue the battle or come to my side and accept all that I offer you?”
Sebastien held his breath, knowing that the decision about his life and theirs would be made in the next moments.
Chapter Eleven
It was only a small movement. Not what he thought would be needed to signify such a momentous decision. Not even an obvious one except that he was watching her for any sign.
Her hand slipped on the blanket and the woolen cover shifted off her shoulder. When he expected her to adjust it, she did not. Instead, she held her hand out to him in much the same gesture that he’d made on the battlements those weeks ago. The nervous expression in her eyes told him that she was not yet convinced, but she trusted him enough to try.
Sebastien reached out, took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I thank you for your trust, Lara. I will not betray it.”
A fleeting look of pain passed over her face and then was gone. Had he imagined it? Then she nodded and stepped toward him, dropping the blanket on the floor.
“You do not need to do this, Lara. It can wait.”
Dear God! Had he uttered those words? He was as hard as the first time he’d seen one of the kitchen maids in his mother’s inn frolicking naked with a stable boy. The need to bury himself within Lara had made him boldly show her his desire in the light of day. He had thought endlessly of the moan she’d gifted him with when he’d touched that most private of places on her body. At this point, he thought he might have imagined it, but he wanted more than anything to find out…to make her soften at his touch, at his entrance.
His control stretched to its breaking point, and he wanted it to break. As though he’d spoken the words out loud, she smiled and let her hand rest over his hardness. Barely a touch, certainly not a caress. He felt the shudder ripple through him and he fisted his hands to avoid throwing her on the bed and burying himself. When she reached out for the laces of his trews, he gave a growl in warning that she did not heed.
Lara slipped her hand inside the loosened ties and touched him. He surged against her hand as he wrapped his arms around her. Flesh to flesh, her skin was hot and he only wanted to taste and smell her…and mark her as his own. Taking her by the shoulders, he dragged her with him until his legs hit the bed. Falling back, he lifted her on top of him until she straddled his hips.
Sebastien reached up and took her hands, entwining their fingers and pulling her down to kiss him. Her mouth was warm and welcoming and he could feel the heat of her, open above him. He lifted his hips and slid his hard male flesh against her until she began to move on her own. Unable to enter her without adjusting her position, and unwilling to let go of her hands, he simply enjoyed the sensations created by the friction of her wet flesh against his.
When her movements became frantic, he realized she did not know what to do. She’d been a virgin the first time they’d joined and had no experience to guide her. He freed her hands and slid his under her hips, tilting her upward, and then with one thrust he filled her.
The sound she made was the one in his dreams—from deep in her throat and so full of need that he nearly spilled his seed at the sound of it. Instead he rolled them over and plunged into her until he could go no farther. She moaned again and he hardened more at her response.
“Wrap your legs around me, Lara,” he whispered gruffly. She did and he found himself deeper, at her very core. Pulling back until he was almost out and then driving back into her, she rewarded him with another moan, then an
other and another. He continued to wring them from her until he knew his release was upon him.
Taking her mouth, he filled her completely and felt the rush of his seed as it exploded from him. He moved within her, in and out, again and again, until every drop was spent inside of her. Sebastien was experiencing the last of his release when he felt the contractions around him, not as overpowering as his own had been. She came in a series of tightening waves until she shuddered and clutched at him. He held her close until her body relaxed beneath his.
It took some minutes for them to recover, and he waited before withdrawing from her. As he slid from her, sated for the first time in so long, he turned on his side and pulled her into his arms.
“Enemies no more, Lara,” he whispered into her ear. “Enemies no more.”
She tensed at his words.
If he noticed, he gave no sign of it, but settled his arm tighter around her and then fell asleep. Lara lay in his embrace and tried to pull her shattered control back into place. Convinced that he was indeed an honorable man, she decided to take this step and accept his offer. After saving her from almost certain death, he offered her another chance of life—a life of promise, a life of her choice.
Lara shifted on the bed, trying to ignore the pull to sleep. Her heart still raced from his possession of her body, and she could not let go of all the sensations moving through her. He lay against her back and shared his body’s heat with her. He had not remained in bed with her the first time, so feeling him so close was new.
She shifted and he moved with her, sliding his leg over hers, tickling her with the hair on his thigh. How did men so easily accept changes like this? One moment they were strangers, living separate lives in the same place and time, and the next, they were…what? Husband and wife? Nay, they had been that for all the time they’d been together. Lovers? They were not in love, so that description did not work either. Bedmates?
Lara turned in his embrace and watched Sebastien sleep. His face was unmarred by the frown he usually wore. His hair, still damp from his time in the water, fell around his head. And the scar on his cheek still caught her attention and her curiosity.
Without warning, his hand followed her movements, gliding over her hip. The touch of it, even though unintentional, sent a shock through her. Would she ever grow used to being naked with him? Would she ever be able to lie next to him and not feel a strangeness?
A chill passed through her and Lara realized that they were lying naked on top of the bedcovers, and although he was still in his trews, she wore nothing. With no blanket in reach, she would either have to get out from under him to get one or wait until he woke. She glanced up at his face and noticed he was watching her.
“My—my lord,” she stuttered as she pulled away from him, the heat of embarrassment filling her cheeks.
“Second thoughts, then?” He leaned up on one elbow and put his hand under his head, never taking his eyes from hers. “If you cannot call me by name, you must think you have made a mistake.”
He rolled off the bed, reached down to the floor and grabbed the blanket that had fallen from around her. Holding it out to her, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her with an intense gaze. The frown was back in place and her fingers ached to reach out and soothe the deep furrows that crossed his forehead.
Fighting the wayward urge, Lara clutched the blanket across her lap and scooted back in the bed until she reached the headboard. Tucking the cover more tightly over her legs, she pushed her own hair out of her face.
“So, Lara, did I take advantage of your condition, your confusion, after you nearly drowned? Or,” he said, moving closer and touching her hand, “have we truly taken a step today?”
She did not want to lie to him, but Lara was simply not certain how she felt…other than warm in places she never thought about unless with him. There was such a hopeful look in his eyes and he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb as he waited for her answer.
“I am not certain.”
A momentary flash of regret or sadness passed over his face and then Sebastien turned his head away. Staring off for a minute, he nodded and stood up. He walked across the chamber and searched through the trunk that held his clothing. He tossed a chain of some kind over his head and then donned a tunic and belt. He faced her before he left.
She wanted to stop him, to give him some explanation, but she was so confused in her own thoughts and heart that she could not find the words at first. Lara shook her head and called his name.
“Sebastien, please wait.”
Trapped by her nakedness, she did not want to leave the bed. He understood her discomfort and reached into his trunk once more, pulling from it the robe he’d worn on their wedding night. She’d not seen it since then. He held it out to her and she slid from the bed and pulled it on. Wrapping it around her, she stood near him.
“I still have such doubts in my heart, Sebastien. By giving in to you, I feel like such a traitor to my family and to my heritage. I know you are an honorable man, but I do not know if this can work. I wish, I truly wish that I could simply say my old life is behind me and we can start anew as though I was never the Maid of Lorne and you were not the man who defeated my people. But, I cannot.”
“I understand, Lara. Can you at least give yourself time to think on this and to consider it? I think that we could fare well in our marriage, but I know it will take time for you to accept your place with me.”
He took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. “I have duties I must see to. Rest awhile here.”
Lara knew she did not want to leave her chambers now; she did not know if she could face anyone yet. She nodded and sat back on the bed.
“Promise you will join me for supper in the hall.”
She wanted to refuse, needing for some reason to deny him in some way. But the inviting smile he gave her, one that erased the frown on his forehead, would not let her decline.
“I will join you there,” she agreed.
The hall was abuzz with the story of her mishap in the firth by the time she made her way downstairs a few hours later. After a brief and fitful nap, Lara decided to make an appearance. Delaying would simply make it more difficult, so she had Margaret help her dress and fix her hair under a respectable covering.
Once she left the tower and entered the hall, everyone she walked past inquired about her health. Even the irritating Sir Hugh asked if she’d recovered from her experience yet. The smirk on his face made her believe that he spoke more of the time in her chambers than what drove her there. However, she would not lower herself to confirm his insulting innuendos. Margaret took him to task in a whirlwind of furious whispering once Lara had turned away. At least their involvement was for some good purpose.
Sebastien had not yet taken his seat; indeed, he stood in the middle of the hall, speaking with a tall, broad-shouldered man she did not recognize. ‘Twas not so unusual, since many new people lived here in the castle and in the small villages surrounding it. Some were his own soldiers and some carried out the Bruce’s direct orders. Sebastien waved at her and broke off his conversation to meet her. Before he could say a word, Malcolm came running in from the yard, with Philippe following closely behind him. Skidding to a stop in front of them, Malcolm clutched her hand and whispered loudly to her.
“Have you heard, Lara? Have you heard the news?”
Sebastien cut off his words quickly. “Malcolm! Your sister is not yet recovered from her mishap of this morn. Give her some peace and quiet. See to your duties.”
Malcolm’s mutinous frown was the only sign that he might argue, but when Philippe grabbed him and tugged at him, he nodded to Sebastien and followed the squire. This week, Philippe was instructing Malcolm in the ways to serve his lord at table. Although Sebastien’s methods of training the boy were more Lowlander than Highlander, Malcolm reveled in the duties assigned to him and the new tasks he was learning under Philippe’s, Sebastien’s and even Sir Hugh’s tutelage.
&n
bsp; “He did not argue with you,” Lara said, surprised that Malcolm did as he was told to do. He usually bristled at any order given by her.
“Malcolm is learning quickly. His temper rules him at times because he is so young. Come,” Sebastien said, offering his arm to her, “meet my friend.”
“Your friend? You have never told me of friends.”
“I have not told you much about me at all, Lara. But, as things continue to quiet and to settle, there will be time.”
She walked at his side and began to worry at his friend’s reaction to a MacDougall wife. His men could be ordered to show respect, but how would this knight treat her? Sebastien turned to her. “Something troubles you?” he whispered.
“Your friend…does he know of me?” Lara watched as the stranger continued in lively conversation with Sir Hugh and a few other knights.
Sebastien pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him. “Is this the same woman who challenged me and refused me entrance when she controlled Dunstaffnage? Is this the same woman who, only this morn, plunged headlong into the firth to save her brother when she could not swim? Tell me where this fear comes from?”
Lara struggled to understand it herself. Then she realized that no matter how she might want to make her life go back to what it had been, it would not. This morning, when she’d offered Sebastien, her husband, her hand, she had taken a step and there was no turning back from the decision. She had changed. Her life had changed.
“His opinion matters to you?” she asked.
“Aye. He has been a true friend for years.”
“Then it matters to me as well,” she explained, trying to put her fear into words. “I would not have him think less of you because you married an enemy’s daughter.”
He laughed at her words and then lowered his voice before continuing. “Lara, fear not about James. If I were a man who gambled, I would say that James is most likely the one who gave the king the idea of our marriage. He is the king’s closest friend and counselor.”
The Maid of Lorne Page 11
