Warrior's Lady

by Gerri Russell

  "Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered against his chest.

  "I can keep this promise. I will."

  Warmth curled inside her stomach when he returned his heated gaze to her face. "I appreciate your efforts."

  A curious half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, making the cleft in his chin more pronounced. "Come with me."

  "Where?" Her voice sounded as breathless as she felt. She pulled the coverlet tighter about her. All he had to do was look at her and the world seemed to stop.

  "To a special place." His hand slipped from her hip to curl around her hand.

  The heat of his touch melted whatever reserve she might have mustered. She nodded, her fingers twining with his. "Will we need an escort?" she asked as they headed for the door.

  At his puzzled frown, she added, "Hamish and Travis."

  Dark humor lit his eyes. "I bid them to find their beds for the rest of the night."

  Her heart leapt with anticipation. She followed him down the hallway, away from the stairs, around several corners, then up a long spiral staircase that led to a bolted door.

  "I used to come here as a child," he explained, dropping her hand to pry the thick metal bolt from its latch. He opened the door and motioned for her to proceed. "You can see all the way to the sea from here."

  She stepped outside onto the wall walk. The area was deserted except for the two of them. A small watch fire burned in a metal grate nearby, keeping the chill of the night at bay. "Where are your guards?"

  His smile turned reckless. "I gave them the rest of the night off as well."

  "And the fire? Who set it?" she asked, not really needing an answer as much as she needed a moment to adjust to his nearness. He wanted them to be alone. Understanding softened his smile. "The fires are always set at night to keep the guards warm." He turned to the wall and picked up two small logs from the pile, then added them to the grate. "Now the fire will keep us warm instead."

  She moved to stand between two crenellations, gazing out at the silvery light of predawn. Her heart raced. She should return to her room where she'd be safe from her feelings for this man. How many times had her mother warned her that proper young ladies did not walk about unescorted, especially in the dark. Dangerous things happened if they did. God knew her father had ordered some of those dangerous things to happen.

  She kept her gaze focused on the landscape, looking out at the sea, when she felt him come up behind her and encircle her with his arms.

  Instinctively, she leaned back against his chest. His embrace closed around her, his head resting near her ear. "What are you thinking about, Rhiannon?"

  "That I shouldn't be here with you."

  He smiled against her temple. "That was honest."

  "I am an honest person."

  He turned her around in his arms. "To be honest with you," he paused, "I want more of what we shared in the cottage." He slipped the woolen coverlet from her shoulders as his hands skimmed the thin white linen that covered her arms.

  The early morning air pressed her nightrail against her body, caressed her limbs, heightening her awareness of her bare skin beneath the thin layer of cloth. His gaze traveled over her tousled hair, the curves of her breasts and hips, to her slippered feet. And again, warmth surged inside her, flowed through her veins, tuning all her responses to the warmth of his touch.

  "You are dangerous to me," she replied, making no attempt to move away. "When you touch me I can't think." His lips brushed her temple. "I can't breathe."

  She closed her eyes, trying to block the riotous sensations his lips created. The darkness only intensified the effect. She opened her eyes as her power to resist him ebbed away.

  "I'll never hurt you."

  He would hurt her. He was hurting her now with his soft touch and honeyed words. He would hurt her over and over again, every time he touched her. The kind of magic they shared could never last. She was certain of it. Her heart would break and she'd only have herself to blame.

  Today's horrific events had taught her one thing; life was unpredictable. Staring death in the face helped to clarify her desires. And she desired the man who held her in his arms. She would willingly risk her heart to be with him, even for a short while.

  The night smelled crisp, fresh snow mixed with the soft scent of heather, bewitching her further as she relaxed against his chest.

  His breath hitched at her surrender. "I will stop whenever you say the word," he whispered against her ear as he pulled her forward until the sheer linen of her nightrail pressed against his shirt.

  Her nipples hardened.

  "We belong together like this, Rhiannon. Let's not fight whatever destiny brought us together. Let's enjoy what we can, without guilt or remorse."

  "Resisting you is like resisting the tide." She could feel the heat of his body against hers building like a maddening tension. The muscles of her limbs felt heavy and weak, unable to support her weight.

  He pulled her closer and brought his lips down to explore the length of her exposed throat.

  She inhaled sharply and a shiver ran through her.

  He pulled away from her. Before she could mourn his loss, he hitched himself up on the stone ledge, then brought her forward to stand between his legs.

  He lifted her gown to just below her breasts and brushed her flesh with his lips. She groaned at the exquisite feel of his hard cheek against the softness of her chest and her abdomen.

  "This is no good," he said and pulled back. A moment later, he stripped his shirt and tossed it to the ground. "I need to feel you against me."

  With gentle hands, he guided her chemise over her head. Before her skin had a chance to cool, he pulled her to him again. His head lowered and his mouth closed over her right breast as if he were starving for her.

  Rhiannon gasped as a streak of hot fire burned through her. The muscles of her stomach clenched. Boldly, she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him against her, wanting more.

  His tongue was so warm, each sensation he wrought robbed her of thought and breath. His lust for her was wildly exciting — primal, intense, fierce.

  His left hand slid down her abdomen to the thatch of curls surrounding her womanhood and began to rub back and forth. "Your skin is so soft, like nothing I've ever touched before. It makes me want to—" He broke off, his voice hoarse. He looked at her with fire in his eyes, warming the blue to the color of the sky on a hot summer's day.

  Rhiannon shuddered in response to his stroking. He created a strange ache between her thighs. "Open yourself to me," he commanded, his voice gentle.

  She watched with fascination at the acceleration of the pulse at the base of his throat as she opened her stance.

  "Wider," he said hoarsely.

  She obeyed, and his hand slipped inside the warm, moist folds. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against the most intimate part of her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as unbelievable ripples of sensation spread from his hand to every part of her body.

  She arched toward him, into the pulsing manhood that pressed against the fabric of his breeches. She wanted more. She wanted him. Her hand moved down to the laces of his breeches. One tug on the ties set him free.

  He jumped down from the ledge and pulled her close, his rigid manhood pulsing against her. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

  "As sure as I've ever been about anything." She didn't want to stop. She couldn't. She closed her eyes and swayed against him, blocking out all sensation but the feel of his hands on her heated flesh.

  He lifted her. "Clasp me with your legs," he commanded, leaning back against the castle wall.

  Her limbs encircled his hips. He settled her atop his flesh and he pulsed into her. When he met with resistance he stopped, before thrusting up in one swift stroke. He covered her lips with his to absorb her cry of pain. Rhiannon's entire body tensed. Then the sensation faded as his presence inside her sent waves of heat through every muscle in her body. His palms cupped her buttocks a
nd held her to him.

  "So tight." His eyes glazed with an expression of primitive pleasure, and his body trembled, shuddered as he moved her slowly up and down, his breathing coming in sharp gasps. The intensity of his need filled her with a heady excitement and increased her own hunger tenfold.

  She clenched around him and heard Camden give a low groan. He lifted her, drawing all the way out and plunged to the heart of her.

  Rhiannon arched her neck back and gave a low cry. A hotness she had never known poured through her, merging with him, until they moved as one entity trying to reach ... what?

  Then she knew. The knowledge broke over her in a release of rapture that left her gasping and shivering in the aftermath.

  He held her to him, breathing heavily, his flesh hot against her own. Even so, his hips still moved yearningly, as if he hadn't had enough of her even though he'd reached his satisfaction.

  She'd known the moment she put her hand in his in the bedchamber below that something would happen between them this night. She'd wanted it. But she had never expected this — a joining that had been both primal and urgent.

  Camden's breathing gradually steadied. "I was too rough." His voice was uneven. "I lost control."

  "We both lost control. I had no idea it could be that way." She looked up at him, uncertain of what she would see. "I watched our horses mate once, but this…"

  Desire, hot and hard, reflected in the depths of eyes. He pulsed inside her, hardening, readying for her once more. "I want you again." His voice sounded pained. "I promise not to be so primitive this time."

  She smiled, feeling fully alive for the first time in her life. "I liked primitive."

  His eyes darkened. "Then allow me to indulge your primitive instincts again."

  Her body barely registered the chill of the morning air as he pulled her to him and set her senses spiraling. By the time they collapsed against each other, the apricot fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, heralding a new day.

  "We should go back belowstairs," he said, reluctantly moving away from her to collect their clothing. "The morning guards will be here soon."

  Her cheeks flamed as she boldly explored the hardened contours of his body, remembering how his muscles had flexed, reacting to her touch.

  With tender care, he placed her nightrail over her head, then wrapped the woolen coverlet about her shoulders. "What are you thinking?" she asked, surprising herself at her boldness.

  He smiled the same wicked smile he'd given her last night. "Honestly?"

  "Absolutely." She tensed, awaiting his response.

  He leaned toward her, his gaze caressing her face. His light blue eyes narrowed with intent. Strange how she first had thought those eyes were icy. "You're beautiful."

  Honesty. "Thank you," she whispered, touched by his words.

  He kissed her forehead. He held out his hand, his fingers curling protectively around hers.

  The blare of a clarion cut through the morning's silence.

  Startled, Camden released her hand. He moved back between the crenellations. Rhiannon followed him, followed his gaze.

  A group of armed men gathered around the castle's gate. "A call to arms. I must go."

  He left her there, alone on the wall walk. A chill crept across her skin that had nothing to do with the light morning breeze.

  A call to arms? Against whom?

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Why now?" Camden bit out the words. He clutched the missive in his hand. The bold wax seal of Robert II, King of Scotland, taunted him as he strode back and forth in front of his men at the gate. The king had sent riders with the orders to raise a force against the most recent army of English invaders.

  Half the castle's warriors gathered in the courtyard at Orrin's command, armed and ready to ride. In the morning mist they appeared to be mythical creatures floating on a cloud, instead of men of flesh and blood. They would once again put their lives on the line for their king and country.

  They were the best of men, honorable and true. Camden had no doubt that together they would drive the English back behind their own border. But at what cost to his own household? Would leaving half the warriors behind be enough to keep his people safe?

  His men awaited orders. "Repairs to the wall will take at least two more days. I don't like it," Camden said with sudden violence.

  "We don't have a choice," Orrin reminded him patiently. "You cannot ignore a summons from our king."

  Camden's hand tightened on the missive. "What if this is a trick to draw us away from the castle?"

  "The king's seal could not be forged without great difficulty," Orrin reasoned.

  Camden frowned down at the bold mark of the king's authority. "It seems incredibly suspicious."

  "Or it could be merely bad timing."

  "The worst."

  Orrin shrugged. "We could send everyone back to Lockhart Castle. The walls there are solid."

  Camden shook his head. "It's too dangerous for them to travel with only half the warriors as protection. They are safer here even with the wall breach than out in the open."

  Camden crumpled the missive.

  "We are not defenseless," Orrin reminded him. "Even with the wall down, even with half our men left behind, we would still be a strong force."

  Camden knew that was true. Yet he hesitated. "That is why the king relies so heavily on us. But that doesn't change the fact that with us gone, Lady Violet and Rhiannon are vulnerable."

  "We could take them with us," Orrin offered.

  Camden frowned. "Battle is no place for women." He continued to pace. "There has to be a solution."

  "I will stay behind with them," Orrin offered. "Will that give you peace of mind?"

  Camden's gaze shot to his face. "You would do that yet again?"

  "If it keeps you from committing treason and from the hangman's noose," Orrin said with a smile that quickly vanished at Camden's dark frown. "I did not mean to—"

  "No offense taken. I accept your offer to stay behind. With you nearby, I know what happened to Clara will not be repeated." He strode to his horse.

  "Mount up, men," Camden ordered. He would do what had to be done. Yet a sense of impending doom pressed down upon him like a heavy shadow. That shadow darkened the dawn as the gates opened and he and his men proceeded south.

  The sooner he rid himself of the English who violated Scottish lands and their way of life, the sooner he could return home, where he belonged.

  The storms that had plagued the skies over Lee Castle finally moved on, and the sun made a weak appearance through the mist that refused to dissipate. The snow had started to melt, leaving patches of green and brown among the traces of white. Regardless, Rhiannon ventured out with Violet for archer lessons in the outer bailey. The silent shadows of Camden's warriors marked their every move.

  Her body ached in unfamiliar places from last night's passion. Camden had been so passionate, yet so gentle when he'd touched her. How had he learned such tenderness when he had matured into manhood in the most hostile of situations?

  Violet stood before the makeshift target, her small bow in her hands. She concentrated on the target, then let the arrow fly. The arrow hit the target this time.

  "I did it." Violet's wide grin brought a smile to Rhiannon's lips.

  "Excellent work. Try it again. This time aim a bit more to the right."

  Violet skipped to the target to retrieve her arrow. She raced back to Rhiannon's side, then nocked the arrow once more. A study in concentration, she pulled back the bowstring, squeezed one eye shut, and carefully lined up her shot before loosing the shaft. She squealed in delight as the arrow thudded solidly into the target.

  Rhiannon tried to be as enthusiastic as her young charge, but her mind was whirling with anxiety. Was Camden safe? Was he going off to battle her family? She prayed the threat was English, though she knew her brothers were just as capable of treachery. But as ruthless as they were, did she really want Cory and Dougall to die? With them
gone, she would be the sole remaining Ruthven. Even though she hadn't considered herself part of the family for years, she still felt a pang of grief at knowing she could be the last of the line.

  Rhiannon cast a quick glance at the little girl who skipped back and forth by her side. Rhiannon had been alone until Violet and Camden had entered her life. But maybe now she had a new family of sorts. It was then that another chilling thought occurred to her. If her brothers found out she was living with their sworn enemy, would she be putting Camden and Violet at risk? Would her brothers inflict upon them the same painful end as Clara and James?

  Fear twisted around her heart. When would her family's villainy stop?

  "Rhiannon?" Violet ceased her archery lesson. She moved to Rhiannon's side and took her hand in her small fingers. "What's wrong?"

  What could she say to make Violet understand her turmoil? Even if Camden could eventually learn to see past her Ruthven name and into her heart, could she accept his love knowing that doing so could place him and those he loved in danger?

  "I'm merely overtired," she said, hoping Violet would not detect the lie. "Perhaps we should head back inside."

  Violet nodded. The little girl gripped her bow in one hand and tightened her grasp on Rhiannon with her other as they headed back to the keep. They had barely entered the courtyard when Mistress Faulkner raced up to greet them.

  "Mistress Rhiannon. Lady Violet." She skidded to a halt in a swirl of gray hair and brown skirts. "We need yer help."

  Rhiannon's heart dropped to her knees at the woman's pale face and wild eyes. "Has something happened to Lord Lockhart?"

  "Nay." She shook her head.

  Relief washed over Rhiannon with such intensity that she staggered. Violet's firm grasp on her hand stabilized her. "Then what is the matter?"

  "One of the warriors is hurt. It's bad. Please, you must come help the man, or at least tell us what to do."