He wouldn’t allow it.
She licked her lips and then opened her mouth. “M’laird, I—”
“Wait.” Before she could say more, Taveon crossed the chamber and wrapped his arm around her waist.
She gasped, her slender dark brows pinched in the middle. “M’laird, plea—”
He cupped his hand over her mouth. “Before ye speak, hear my words.” He closed his eyes so she would see him inside her head and not herself. Strands of her hair caught on his coarse cheek when he pressed his lips to her forehead.
“We are good together. You and I.” Further words escaped him. He was prepared to present his reasons, but the power to persuade her with rhetorical ramblings left him. He slowly removed his hand and tilted her chin toward him. Warm mint passed from her parted lips to his just before he drew her bottom lip into his mouth. A zing shot through his body from his heels to the rims of his ears. His scalp tingled. No woman ever made him feel this way.
Viviana flattened her hand against his chest, the other nestled nicely against his hip. She didn’t battle him. Instead, she returned his kiss with a timidity he’d yet to see in her character. The tip of her tongue snuck between his lips.
He nearly came undone.
His pulse left his chest, his neck, his fingertips, and gathered together to drum in his groin. With every beat, he grew another inch.
Sweet Venus! He wanted her and prayed this wasn’t a farewell kiss. Weaving long fingers into her loose tresses, he cradled her head and deepened the kiss. Tongues played a game of chase where they both reigned victorious. She whimpered in his mouth, the vibration made him mad with want.
He couldn’t breathe.
She pulled away but settled on-so-nicely against him. “Did you intend to say something?”
His eyes opened. He couldn’t be certain, but she might have smiled with those wet lips. “I did. Albeit, I cannae recall what I intended to say.”
She did smile this time, but bit her lip when she must have seen herself enjoying his bewilderment. She wouldn’t return to Lorenzo. Not after that kiss.
Preparing himself for her answer, he set her back, but not too far. “Have ye made a decision?”
“I have.”
Mindlessly, he busied his fingers with the task of properly aligning her buttons starting at her waist.
He waited.
The hizzie seemed to enjoy his anxiety. After long moments, Viviana’s spine lengthened. “If I go to Scotland, Miocchi goes to Scotland.”
She was going with him! He hid the fact that his stomach fell to the planked floor and continued to work the fastenings of her gown upward. “Agreed.”
“You will allow me to ride my own horse.”
“Guided by my steed,” he added.
“Of course.”
“Verra well.”
“You will pay a smith to replace my sculpting tools and,” she added quickly, “purchase a lute to replace the one you left behind.”
He decided he’d given her too much time to make her decision. “Agreed.”
“When we reach Scotland, you will treat me with dignity regardless of my flaws.”
That task would be simple. In his way of thinking, his Venus had no flaws, save for one. “Is stubbornness a flaw?”
She frowned but waited for his agreement.
“Ye will be treated with the dignity and respect expected of your title.” He fastened the last button, his fingers hesitated over her milky skin. The tip of his index finger followed the chain’s path into her bodice where he stroked the shadowed cleft between her breasts.
She sucked air between her teeth and tightened her hold on his forearm. “The number of pips counted on a pair of dice will not determine the length of time I have before you take me to your bed. You will wait until I’m ready.”
“Are ye ready now?” His fingernail brushed her hardened nipple the same time he bent and kissed the tops of her breasts.
She didn’t stop him. In fact, her head fell back slightly, giving him room to perform. Though she might try to hide it, she was aroused the same as he. The way she shivered in his arms gave him a sense of power and stole his ability to think rationally.
He suckled the skin over her pounding pulse and when he nipped at the tender flesh of her earlobe, she pulled him closer and panted in quick, short inhales.
“Ye are my wife, and I want ye now,” he demanded in her ear, his tone reflected his need; harsh, coarse, unyielding. He started unfastening her buttons to reveal a thin white undertunic.
She let him and began an exploration of her own. Her fingers glided over his chest down to his waist then hooked over his braies too close to his erection. She pulled him to her and set her lips beside his ear. “You will never strike me.”
“Never.”
She gained his agreement through her seduction, but he didn’t care. He would give her anything. His only thought centered around getting his wife naked and in bed. Saliva pooled in his mouth, anticipating the moment he would go between her thighs and taste her.
She tugged on his braies, knocking his hipbones with her knuckles. “And you will allow me to wear the amulet for the rest of my life.”
His lust slammed into his reality. His hands stilled on the last button. Never once had he asked the soothsayer how she would use the amulet to break Elise’s curse.
Do not get too familiar with the girl, else she’ll end up in the grave like the others. Noreen’s words rang through his ears. He’d already let himself become familiar with Viviana. He knew her scent, the feel of her satiny skin, and the way her violet eyes reeked of loneliness. She was barren and wouldn’t end up in the burial ground like Janetta and the others, but Cora-Rose would.
The amulet was powerful enough to break the curse.
But at what cost?
Would the talisman retain its magic or would it be destroyed, leaving Viviana in darkness?
He stood tall and looked into her flushed face. “I cannae know what will become of the amulet.”
Her eyes batted slowly while her hand went to her chest to guard the very object of their discussion. “What are you saying?”
“I know not how the soothsayer intends to use the talisman to break the curse. Noreen is the only one who can answer that question.”
Viviana pulled out of his arms and held the edges of her bodice together. “I’ve lived in blindness for years before the amulet gifted with me with sight again. You cannot take that from me.”
He shook his head. “Ye cannae ask me to choose? I have known ye less than a fortnight. The curse has stolen the lives of my ancestors for a century. Cora-Rose is destined to die, and every day Makayla lives is a day more than I expected her to do so. I want nothing more than to be your eyes, but I must save my family.”
Standing in idle stillness, she tucked her chin to her chest and might have succeeded in guarding her emotions from him had the tear not slipped from her eye. “Of course. I’m being selfish.” She made a mess of buttoning her gown and searched the floor with bare toes until she found her slippers. “I’m ready to go.”
“To Scotland?” he asked, reliving his initial fear all over again.
“Did I really have a choice, m’laird?” The icy fingers of her hatred returned to her tone.
“Nay, ye did not.”
Chapter 12
The heat of a fire warmed Viviana’s cheeks as she settled on her heels atop a wool blanket Laird Kraig laid out for her. She pushed back the hood of her fur-trimmed mantle and released the ties at her neck to let the heavy garment pool around her.
Cool night air rolled down the mountain in the form of a sharp breeze, but she feared it was only a wisp of warning compared to what the mountain was capable of reaping. She fidgeted with her wedding band and worried over what was to come.
The crack of popping joints sounded to her left just before a leather flask filled her hand.
Laird Kraig squatted beside her and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Get yourself warm
and rest while we tend the horses. Our bartering in Turin cut our travels short this day, but on the morrow we cross the border into France.”
“And into the mountains?” She wished her tone didn’t reflect her fear. She’d mastered the skill of hiding her emotions, mostly in the form of silence. Men perceived that silence as submission, and Luciano had taught her submission was the preferred conduct for a woman.
“Ye have nothing to fear.” He touched her arm and scanned their surroundings. Night already shrouded them in a cloak of darkness. The woods to the east encircled them, the light from their fire tracing their trunks like steel bars. Laird Kraig didn’t look at the mountain she knew was directly behind her. Instead, he brought his gaze to the fire. “We’ve furs aplenty to keep us warm and enough weapons to guard ye like noble knights of the crown.” His efforts to console her fell short of success.
She wasn’t afraid to enter the mountains. She was terrified.
Laird Kraig kissed the heel of her palm and warmth eased through her insides. His possessiveness aside, her husband had shown no violent tendencies in her presence. His tenderness confused her as much as it comforted her. And the way her body reacted to his touch was a foreign pleasure and an oddity for a woman who’d already known the touch of two husbands. Not even Radolfo with his famed comeliness made her insides burn the way Laird Kraig did.
A pathetic whimper brought her out of her musings.
Laird Kraig released her hand, setting her back into blindness, and then stood. “Miocchi, come.”
Paws padded over the forest floor and Miocchi greeted her with a cold nose in her hand. She smiled and rubbed the dog’s ears, gaining comfort from his presence.
“The dog looks ridiculous in that coat. The right back leg is stitched longer than the left.” Laird Kraig’s irritated tone sounded like envy in Viviana’s ears. If she didn’t know better, she might think the man jealous of the coat Remi knitted for her pet.
“Sì, but the wool will keep him warm. That is all that matters.”
Laird Kraig grunted, then his stealthy footsteps faded and with his absence came the absurd fear she’d experienced with each step her horse had taken throughout their travels this day. Every patch of grass at the Medici Palace was familiar to her, but here in this vast valley she was lost. He’d given her no reason to believe he might abandon her, but so many others had; her birth mother, Sister De Rosa, Fioretta. Her lack of trust prevented her from feeling safe.
The jingle of harness soon settled into silence and brought the men to the fire.
“Are ye hungry, m’lady?” Remi asked, banging utensils in front of her. “I’ll fix ye a bannock to go with the peach jam the innkeeper’s wife sent along with us.”
“Grazie, Signore Remi.”
From across the crackling fire Laird Kraig hummed as he had throughout the day, but this tune was somber and carried an ominous note. Remi cooked her oatcake in silence then took a place on her left, while Monroe’s heavy breathing filled the space to her right. Her husband’s tune had them behaving like sad puppies. Could the man not sing something more uplifting?
“I think Miocchi is fond of his new coat.” Viviana offered Remi a smile, trying to ease the uncomfortable tension.
“I might have chosen a different color. Orange does not suit him.” Remi set a handkerchief in her hand with the oatcake on top.
“I doubt Miocchi much cares, and as I only see in shades of gray I think orange suits him fine.”
A pregnant pause filled the air and silenced Laird Kraig’s song.
“I thought ye were blind?” Remi questioned.
Confused, Viviana turned toward Laird Kraig. “You did not tell them?” The man held no qualms about revealing the fact she was barren, but this he keeps from them?
“‘Tis your secret to tell, not mine.”
Viviana’s hand flattened over the amulet, pushing the hard stone against her breastbone. Long moments passed in silence while she contemplated a way to finagle out of the current conversation.
“Ye cannae talk of secrets right in front o’ me and then say naught, lassie. I know how to guard my tongue when ‘tis a matter of importance.”
Laird Kraig snorted. “Ye may as well tell him. He will badger ye until your teeth are loose.”
Viviana stuffed the bannock in her mouth and chewed the dry bread and sour jam far longer than necessary. She felt them watching her, so she took another bite and chewed even longer. She continued this charade until every last crumb had been eaten. “The bannock was wonderful,” she lied and wiped the corners of her mouth playing innocent. She stretched her arms and feigned a yawn. “Should we be getting some rest?”
Monroe laughed at her, the sound jovial yet wicked. It was the first time the man interacted with her. “Ye have my interests as well, m’lady. I’ll strike ye a bargain. I’ll kill Remi should he blather your secret.”
“As if ye could,” Remi shot back. “I’d gut ye afore ye raised your blade.”
“No one will gut anyone.” Viviana thought their conversation barbaric.
Laird Kraig cleared his throat. “Monroe and Remi have sworn fealty to me and as my wife, ye have their loyalty as well. They already know the amulet is not just an expensive bauble.”
“Pish!” Viviana flashed Laird Kraig a look she hoped resembled annoyance.
“Tell us, m’lady,” Remi pleaded.
She inhaled and then exhaled dramatically. “The amulet allows me to see through Laird Kraig’s eyes when he touches me.”
“Ye gods and little fishes. S’truth?”
Viviana nodded.
“So when ye talk to the laird, ye see yourself?” Monroe asked, impressing Viviana with his quick understanding.
“Sì. It can be very confusing.”
“And when the laird kisses ye, ‘tis like kissing yourself?” Remi added.
The heat now burning her face had nothing to do with the fire.
A hand curled around her wrist—a big, strong, calloused, hot hand reminding her of Luciano. “Can ye see through me?” Monroe asked.
“No.” She stiffened, causing Miocchi to growl.
“Unhand her.” Laird Kraig’s command was followed without pause.
“Forgive me. ‘Twas not my intention to frighten ye.” Monroe stood and shuffled through the debris to put distance between them.
Mannaggia! Laird Kraig’s kinsman finally finds the courage to speak to her, and her insensitive, authoritative husband destroys that minuscule bit of trust in two words. Viviana scowled over the fire, hoping she looked directly at him. She waited for his snort, or that idiotic word he used.
“Ouish!”
That word.
Viviana wrapped her arms around her bent legs and propped her chin atop her knees. Not even Remi spoke and soon the silence became unnerving, until Laird Kraig started humming the same tune from earlier in a deep somber tone. She would never admit it aloud, but the man did have a beautiful voice. This particular melody, however, sent a cold shiver up her spine.
“Hum-ho-hum… hum-ho-hum.” Laird Kraig gave definition to his humming. “Hum-ho-hum… hum-ho-hum.”
Remi and Monroe picked up the cadence. “Hum-ho-hum… hum-ho-hum.”
Laird Kraig began the chorus. “Into the world, she bore two sons. The bairns made her a happy mum. The chieftain smiled and wiped her brow, determined to keep her alive somehow.”
“‘Oh, why,’ he cried, ‘did the curse steal all their brides?’ ‘Oh, please,’ he begged, ‘let her live just another day.’”
“Hum-ho-hum,” Remi and Monroe held the chant. “Hum-ho-hum.”
“But God ignored his pleas that day, and took her spirit far away. He kissed her cheek and said farewell, then damned the witch’s soul to Hell.”
“‘Oh, why,’ he cried, ‘did she curse them all to die?’ ‘Oh, please,’ he begged, ‘let them ne’er love this way.’”
“Hum-ho-hum… hum-ho-hum.”
A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Viviana�
�s stomach as Laird Kraig continued his woeful song.
“For years of ten he wept at night, taught his sons to hunt, to fight. He stood on the cliff in the pourin’ rain, and prayed for God to end his pain.”
“‘Oh, why,’ he cried, ‘do you keep me still alive?’ ‘Take me,’ he begged, ‘I’ll not live another day.’”
“Hum-ho-hum… hum-ho-hum.”
“Into the sea, he freed his soul, without care for the lad who watched him go. His son screamed in terror from above, and wished he’d ne’er known his love.”
“‘Oh, why,’ he cried, ‘did you take him from my side?’ ‘Oh, please,’ he begged, ‘let me ne’er love that way.’”
“Hum-ho-hum… hum-ho-hum.”
Viviana’s mouth lay open, so astonished by what his song revealed. Her heart stuck in her throat. She felt his pain—a terrible pain she, too, had carried inside her since Fioretta died. She wanted to know so much more about the man in the song. The man she assumed was Laird Kraig’s father, but Remi and Monroe repeated the refrain until the notes dwindled into silence.
But Laird Kraig drew a deep breath. He was not yet finished.
“Into a mon, the boy hath grown, and took a bride of his own. Behind his eyes, she danced in glee, but he feared, ‘twas just a fantasy.”
“‘Oh, why,’ he cried, ‘does she hate me so inside?’ ‘Oh, please,” he begged, ‘let me in her heart some day.’”
Silence.
Viviana could hear the blood rushing through her ears, could feel her heart punching her in the chest. Damn the pitch in her head! She wanted to see him. She stood, uncertain if he would accept her compassion, but she wanted to give it to him just the same.
Before she could go to him, Laird Kraig’s stealthy footsteps dissipated into the woodland.
She felt Remi’s presence beside her before he spoke. “M’lady—”
“The man in the song was his father?” she cut him off.
“Aye. M’laird was at his da’s side when the old chieftain jumped from the cliff into the sea. I dinnae know the mon, but ‘tis said he nigh went mad after his wife died.”
“She died giving birth?” she guessed, based on the song.
My Cursed Highlander Page 11
