“I’d rather this happened at Blackshore.” He stroked her lightly, his voice still roughened by passion. “But I took you knowing you’ll be my wife. Dinnae you forget that after I leave you tonight. I meant what I said. You are mine. No one will e’er come between us again.”
“My brother will try.” It had to be said.
Kendrew would be furious if he knew. He’d challenge Alasdair, and whichever one of them was killed, she’d bear the responsibility.
She bit her lip, not wanting to think of such a tragedy.
Not now, when such glittering, all-consuming pleasure still warmed her and the beautiful haze of their loving buoyed her so sweetly.
Yet…
She did have to return to Nought. This night, and very shortly lest Kendrew noticed her absence and sent out a party of men to search for her.
She sat up, glancing about for her clothes. “We must be away, now before it is too late.”
“Hush, sweet.” Alasdair curled his hand around her wrist, pulling her back down again, wrapping his arms around her. He smoothed the hair from her face, kissed her brow, the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you safely to Nought, and at speed.” He glanced toward the cave’s entrance where a wedge of the night sky could be seen.
The wind had died and a sparkling scatter of stars shone against the clear, black heavens, the storm now gone.
“I will handle your brother.” He turned her in his arms, cradling her back against his chest. “Dinnae say aught to him until I’ve had the chance. That is all I ask of you. I dinnae trust him.”
“He won’t do anything to me.” Marjory defended him, knowing in her heart that Kendrew wished only the best for her.
But his idea of good was different from hers.
And so she reached to where Alasdair’s hands were clasped over her abdomen and placed her own hands over his, squeezing tightly.
“The only danger for me has been his plan to see me wed to a Viking lord. That threat no longer exists. There’s nothing—” She jerked, her amber necklace trembling, white-hot against her throat. Her eyes flew wide, the shocking heat almost scalding her.
The sensation passed in an eye blink.
Even as she lifted a hand to the necklace, the stones were cool to the touch, the ambers still.
But the chill she’d noted when Alasdair had made love to her was back. The storm may have passed, but the cave had turned icy enough to raise gooseflesh on her skin. It was all she could do to keep her teeth from chattering. Yet Alasdair didn’t seem to notice.
And that could mean only one thing.
The warning was meant for her.
Wanting nothing to do with it, she twisted around in his arms. She took his face in her hands, kissed him deeply. She poured all her love and passion into the kiss, her heart soaring when he tightened his arms around her, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Such kisses, such abandoned and pure loving held power. The greatest magic on earth, she was sure.
If trouble came, she’d be ready.
With Alasdair’s love to protect her, nothing could harm her.
He’d said so.
Still, she wouldn’t look again at the ancient painted woman up near the cave’s ceiling.
She’d sooner trust in Alasdair’s promise.
She silently made one of her own to bring him happiness all his days.
Chapter Sixteen
Her fortune had turned at last.
Reliving every beautiful moment she and Alasdair had enjoyed in the Thunder Caves, Marjory settled deeper into her bath. She wished they could’ve spent the night in each other’s arms. But she’d understood Alasdair’s need to return to Blackshore. Nor did she wish to rile her brother unduly. Much better to bide her time and let Alasdair confront him, man to man. When he did, she secretly hoped Kendrew would accept their union, perhaps even be happy for them.
It wasn’t likely, but she’d do her best to make it so.
Considering her options, she leaned her head back against the wooden tub’s padded edge, relishing the warm, scented water. Her emotions were still ragged. Her ride with Alasdair across Nought had taken her from the darkest depths of doubt and despair to the most wondrous heights of bliss she could imagine. She’d thought he was lost to her, only to learn that he’d carried her in his heart all the harrowing while. Her own heart swelled, so full she wondered it didn’t burst with her happiness. She did dip her washcloth into her jar of lavender-scented soap and scrubbed her breasts and then her arms, remembering Alasdair’s touch. His hot gaze devouring her, the kisses they’d shared.
His loving and how she’d never believed a carnal mating could be so intense, almost rapturous in its beauty. Even the soreness deep inside her was magical. Wondrous proof that only hours before they’d been intimately joined. Their bodies moving together as one, their hearts laid open, everything that stood between them banished to the realm of memories and darkening dreams.
Well, almost everything.
Her head did ache a bit from the effort of trying to push Kendrew from her mind. Instead, she thought only of Alasdair and the life they’d enjoy together. He still felt as close as if he were in the next room, possibly even here at Nought, in her tower bedchamber with her.
She could almost see him looking at her still. His eyes smoldering as he reached for her, gripping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, his tongue gliding into her mouth, twirling against hers, the earthy pleasure of their shared breath. And how his hard-muscled shoulders tensed beneath her hands, proving how fiercely he desired her.
She sighed and touched her ambers, wishing their magic could conjure him.
Tendrils of steam rose from her bath, reminding her of how the mist had pressed so closely about them as they’d thundered across Nought’s rocky terrain.
The rain had returned, beating against the castle walls, the night’s cold, wet darkness all the more romantic now that she’d ridden with Alasdair across half of Nought in the storm’s blustery embrace.
She’d always loved wild weather.
After the shelter of the Thunder Caves, her blood had quickened to share more of the rain-and windswept night with Alasdair.
Even now, she shivered with excitement.
The storm whisked her back into his arms, the memories of his wild passion making the lingering ache between her thighs tingle anew.
She closed her eyes, listening to the rain and refusing to be sad that she was again in her bedchamber, miles separating them.
Soon, he would come for her.
He’d promised.
Content in his word, she slid even deeper into the tub, letting the steaming water tease her chin. She enjoyed her baths. In truth, little was more delicious than soaking in the large, linen-lined tub, a well-doing wood fire on the hearth and a fine Nought wind serenading her.
Someone had thoughtfully lit the room’s small coal brazier. Her little dog, Hercules, took advantage. He’d pulled one of her best embroidered cushions from her bed and dragged it before the brazier, treating himself to a luxurious and warm resting place.
But Hercules wasn’t sleeping.
He’d stretched out on the cushion with his head resting on his paws, his ears pricked and his alert gaze on the bedchamber’s closed door.
Hercules enjoyed guarding her privacy.
He wouldn’t rest until she left the bathing tub and slipped into her bed. Even then, he’d keep vigil, jumping up to growl if so much as a dust mote drifted too near to her.
Marjory glanced over at him, remembering how he’d almost played a favorite trick on Alasdair during one of his visits to Nought. Blessedly, she’d stopped Hercules just as he’d started to lift his little leg.
She shifted in the tub, sitting up a bit higher. “You’re a wee blackguard at times, aren’t you?”
One of Hercules’s ears twitched, his mouth curving as if he were smiling in agreement.
“I’ll give you a treat shortly.” Marjory looked past him to where whoever had lit the braz
ier had also set her table with a late-night repast. Oatcakes, cheese, and butter along with wild fruit and honey winked at her, making her realize how long it’d been since she’d eaten all of two oatcakes at Hella’s that afternoon.
Hercules followed her gaze, making an appreciative gurgling sound deep in his chest.
They could both do justice to such a feast.
She certainly was famished.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to end her bath.
She’d been drenched by the time Alasdair and his men had left her at the secret stair that led up to Nought’s stone garden. Alasdair had argued, and lost, his intent to deliver her to the hall door. At her insistence, he and his men had ridden past the gatehouse’s main stair to the stone garden’s little-used entrance where chances were good no one would see her slip into the stronghold.
No one had.
Nor had Alasdair known she’d stood in a sheltered bower of the stone garden, peering over the wall to watch him and his men turn and ride away from Nought.
The rain increased then, the heavens opening as the storm raged around them, quickly blotting them from view. But she’d heard the thunder of their horses’ hooves long after she’d caught her last glimpse of Alasdair’s broad back disappearing into the blowing mist.
Not wanting to think about Alasdair hastening through the cold, wet night on his way back to Blackshore, she lifted the pitcher of rinse water, pouring its contents over her soapy scalp.
“Brrr…” She shivered and reached for the second rinsing jug, glad that the water in both had gone so cold. She welcomed the icy shock.
She’d never sleep if yearning for Alasdair kept rekindling the fires inside her, her awareness of the dull throbbing in intimate places making her burn to be in his arms again.
Across the room, Hercules barked once, and then again, sounding upset.
“Hush, sweet,” Marjory called to him, pushing to her feet and reaching for her drying cloth.
It was then that a rush of cold air warned that she wasn’t alone.
Someone had opened her door.
“Who’s there?” She whipped about, whirling the drying cloth around her nakedness.
“It’s only me.” Isobel closed the door behind her and came into the room, a terrible look on her face. Hercules dashed over to her, running circles around her, yapping noisily.
Isobel didn’t even glance at him.
She did come farther into the room. Her expression was even more unsettling now that she’d left the shadows of the door and the light of a wall torch fell across her, revealing her paleness, her state of disarray.
“Dear saints, Isobel. What is it?” Marjory stared at her friend, alarmed by the wariness in her eyes and how her unbound hair was tangled, still damp from her own bath.
She wore only her nightshift and she’d thrown one of Kendrew’s plaids around her shoulders. Her feet were bare, her breath coming fast, as if she’d been hurrying.
She was clearly upset.
“Speak, please.” Marjory felt her own pulse quickening. “What is it? Don’t tell me you truly did hurt yourself falling from Ewan’s horse?” She looked Isobel up and down, concerned. “You seemed fine when we spoke earlier, just after Alasdair brought me back.”
“I am fine.” Isobel raised a hand and shook her head. “You know, I could land headfirst in a leap from a horse and not hurt myself. It isn’t that.” Staying where she was, she looked around the room and then at the closed door as if she thought someone stood on the other side, listening through the wood.
When she turned back to Marjory, regret clouded her eyes. “Kendrew is speaking with several of his men. They’re in the solar that opens off our bedchamber. And”—she reached to grip Marjory’s arm—“the talk is of Alasdair.”
“Alasdair?” Marjory blinked. Her heart clutched. Fear chilled her blood that something might’ve happened to him on his return journey. “Has he been injured? The storm—”
“Nae, nae, it’s nothing the like.” Isobel glanced over her shoulder at the door. “I didn’t hear enough to know what was being said.”
“If he’s not dead, it can’t be so bad.” Heat was beginning to flood Marjory’s face, her ears ringing so that her own voice seemed to come from a deep well. “Yet”—her palms were damping—“you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t awful.”
“I don’t know that it is.” Isobel glanced down at Hercules, reached to tug her hem from his teeth. That accomplished, she turned another worried look on Marjory. “But I think you should come with me to listen. There’s a crack in the solar door. If we’re quiet and press our ears to the wood, we should be able to hear what they’re saying. I’m worried because Kendrew sounded very pleased.” Isobel released Marjory’s arm and pushed back her hair. “He never speaks of Alasdair in jovial tones. That’s why I’m concerned.”
“As am I!” Marjory threw aside the drying cloth and yanked on her night robe. She trembled, her fingers shaking so badly she could hardly tie the robe’s belt. Of a sudden, it was chilly in the room, freezing nearly.
But the cold came from inside her.
It also felt ominously like the chill she’d experienced in the Thunder Caves.
Not wanting to make the connection, she bent to snatch up Hercules just as he made to nip Isobel’s hem again. Her pulse racing, she placed him on the cushion before the brazier and gave him a warning look to stay there.
Hercules’s sharp yipping was the last thing she needed if she and Isobel were to sneak down the corridor, into her brother’s privy chamber, and listen at his solar door. If he caught them, there’d be hell to pay.
Hercules peered up at her, looking as if he’d relish the excitement.
The little dog loved nothing more than annoying Kendrew.
“You must stay here and be still. I will return soon.” Marjory reached down to pet him and then hurried after Isobel into the night-darkened passage.
“I caught only bits.” Isobel took her hand as they hastened through the gloom. “The door was closed and the wind howls louder on our side of the tower. But”—she hesitated, biting her lip before rushing on—“I think you should know before we get to the solar. I fear Hella was mistaken. Worse, I suspect Alasdair might’ve kept something very important from you when you were with him in the Thunder Cave.”
Marjory froze. “What are you saying?”
“Come, let us hope I am wrong.” Isobel tugged on Marjory’s hand, hurrying her. “We need to get there before the men go down to the hall.”
“Nae.” Marjory dug in her heels. “Tell me what you know.”
“I know nothing, dear heart.” Isobel sounded as if she knew lots. Terrible things that knotted Marjory’s stomach and made her knees quiver. “But…” She pulled on Marjory’s arm again, urging her along the corridor. “From what I did hear, Alasdair must’ve agreed to marry the Mackinnon’s daughter, Lady Coira.”
“What?” Marjory’s eyes flew wide, her heart nearly stopping. Icy shock raced through her veins. “That can’t be so.”
If it was, she couldn’t bear it.
No, it wasn’t possible.
She wouldn’t believe it.
“I’m only guessing.” Isobel shot a glance at her. “I could be wrong.”
“You have to be.” Marjory pressed a hand to her breast, hurrying. They were almost on the other side of the tower. Kendrew and Isobel’s quarters loomed just ahead, the door ajar.
“Let’s hope so. I know it would be a blow. I was stunned myself.” Isobel stopped outside her bedchamber door, pushing gently and then wincing when the hinges creaked. “Shhh…” She ushered Marjory into the darkened room and over to the closed solar door. “Put your ear here.” She spoke softly, touched a barely visible crack with the tip of her finger. “You will hear them.”
Marjory didn’t move. “Was Lady Coira mentioned by name?”
“Nae.” Isobel shook her head. “The talk was of a ‘marriage agreement that, once and for all, would keep Alasdair at Bl
ackshore.’ It sounded like an arranged union, already settled upon.
“Who else could they mean but Coira Mackinnon?” Isobel lowered her voice even more, clearly unhappy to be the bearer of such ill tidings. “We know her father has been after Alasdair to agree to the match.”
“He’d have told me.” Marjory was sure of it.
She also knew everything he had said to her.
She’d trusted him.
She still did.
But she couldn’t resist pressing her ear to the crack in her brother’s solar door. She wished at once that she hadn’t. Kendrew’s deep voice was unmistakable. She wasn’t quite certain who was in the room with him. Several men, to be sure, just as Isobel had warned. Their words were indistinct, but their tone couldn’t be mistaken.
They were mightily pleased about something.
And she did hear the words “marriage agreement” and talk of a “large settlement of coin and land.” Most disturbing of all were the two names repeated again and again.
Alasdair and Blackshore.
Marjory’s world turned dark, all the light and air rushing out of it, leaving her a shell. Distantly amazed she was still standing, that her legs hadn’t given out on her, she pressed her forehead against the door’s cold, uncaring wood and closed her eyes.
If what she heard was true, she wanted to die.
She couldn’t live without Alasdair.
Not now, not after all that had transpired at the Thunder Caves.
She felt Isobel slip an arm around her waist, gently guiding her from the door and out of the room, back into the chill dimness of the corridor. Quietly, her friend closed the door behind them, already guiding Marjory back through the night, toward her own bedchamber.
“Now you see why I came for you.” Marjory glanced at her as they rounded the first curve in the passage. Her pretty face wore a world of regret. “You had to know, my dear. I am so sorry.”
Marjory couldn’t speak.
Something had happened to her tongue. It’d vanished, perhaps chased away by the hot, burning thickness rising in her throat.
She blinked hard, refusing to dash at the stinging heat blurring her vision. She hated tears and wouldn’t acknowledge them. She did keep walking, sheer will alone helping her put one foot in front of the other. She breathed in the same manner, though she’d also swear she wasn’t breathing. She felt as if all the life had been sucked out of her. But deep inside her, a steely thread of hope wouldn’t die. Clinging to that hope, she forced herself to think hard, searching for a reason to disbelieve.
Seduction Of A Highland Warrior Page 27
