"Only for you," she whispered against his mouth. He was the only man she'd ever wanted to be with. The only man who tempted her and made her want to beg for his wicked delights. The only man who'd ever touched her heart.
With a guttural groan, he drove deep within her and held himself there.
She moaned, savoring the fullness of him within her. As her muscles relaxed, then clutched at him, accepting his size, she pulled him tighter into her arms and wrapped her legs around his hips.
Growling Gaelic words she couldn't understand, he started moving, gently at first, but withdrawing and thrusting with increasing vigor. "So good, Calla," he said between clenched teeth. "So perfect."
"Aye," she breathed. You're mine, Rebbie. But she knew it wasn't so. He could never be hers. Not forever. Not once he knew the truth, and she prayed he never did. Tears burned her eyes, blurred her vision, and slipped from the corners of her eyes into her hair.
He paused. "Am I hurting you?"
She shook her head. "Nay. You feel wonderful." Far beyond wonderful, in fact. She didn't possess the words to describe how astounding he felt.
He stroked her tears away with his thumbs and again moved within her, his lips brushing against hers.
Knowing she had no control over the emotions he drew from her, she pressed her eyes closed.
The delightful sensations he propelled through her body near overwhelmed her. She held her breath, having forgotten the full impact of what he could do to her. The power hovered at the brink for long seconds, then it crashed into her with such potency and decadence her breath halted. Clutching at him, she cried out. Or was she screaming? His mouth covered hers as he drove himself into her with greater force. He drew the pleasure out, extending her enjoyment for long moments.
His jaw clenched hard, he groaned, withdrew from her and spilled his seed upon her belly. She knew 'twas for the best, but some deep part of her wished he hadn't. Was she daft to want another child from him?
Aye.
After a moment, he rolled aside, breathing hard. "Saints, Calla." He arose, poured water from the ewer into the basin and dipped a cloth in it. He returned to the bed and bathed her stomach. His affectionate gaze lifted to hers. "You are something else."
"What? Something bad?" she teased, happiness still beaming within her in the afterglow.
"Nay." He grinned. "An astonishing woman who can drive me mad with wanting you."
She savored the caring expression on his handsome face. How she loved him… she hadn't even realized until today. Tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying to shove the spiking emotion away… love and longing. Nay, she could not be in love with him. She had to stop feeling this way.
After depositing the cloth in the basin, he returned to the bed. Lying beside her, he propped his head against his hand. "Nay, surely you're not about to cry again."
Not wanting him to see her daft tears or her emotions, she shook her head and looked down.
He lifted her chin, urging her to look at him. "Tell me why you are crying."
The words ran through her mind—I love you and we have a son.
Chapter Eleven
Nay, Calla could not tell Rebbie how she felt about him. Nor could she tell him about Jamie.
"I'm not crying." She forced a smile. "'Tis naught. Truly."
"You don't trust me enough to tell me?" His brows held a wee, displeased frown.
"I trust you." She did indeed trust him to protect her. And she knew he would never physically harm her. But to trust him with her feelings and her secrets was another thing entirely. Revealing those would put her son's future at risk, and she could never do that.
Once Rebbie learned how she'd used him all those years ago, he'd be angry. Besides that, he was a powerful earl, with an even more powerful marquess father. Either of them might take Jamie from her and expose her lies to parliament and the Kirk. She'd rather die than be brought before them, scrutinized and deemed a harlot, an adulteress and a liar. 'Twould be such a scandal she'd have to leave the country. She knew no one in any foreign lands, or even in England, who would help her.
She had built a house of cards, and Rebbie could easily make it all come crashing down.
"I didn't want to upset you," he murmured. "I but wanted to give you pleasure."
"You did." Surely, he knew that. Hadn't her reactions to him been obvious? "Being with you is… amazing."
"You are amazing." He kissed her forehead.
Rebbie had never experienced anything or anyone like Calla. Such intense need, desire and pleasure she elicited from him without effort. He had only to look at her to want her. But he easily saw the pain in her eyes, the vulnerabilities she tried to hide. What caused it? Her former bastard of a husband? The idiot Claybourne who was trying to capture her and use her? Whatever it was, he wanted to take the pain away.
"How much is the debt to Claybourne?" Rebbie asked.
She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze searching his face. "Why would you ask?"
"I'm a curious person. Or nosey, depending on who you ask."
She lifted a brow slightly. "'Tis such a large sum, I'd rather not say."
"Surely, it cannot be all that much."
"Promise you'll tell no one?" she asked, the vulnerability coming back full force into her eyes.
"Aye. Of course."
"Over fifty-thousand pounds," she said in a small voice, her face tensing with anxiety.
"'Slud. Even after you sold everything?"
"Aye. As you know, I've been paying him a small amount each week, but 'tis not enough. He's already wealthy. I don't think he even cares about the money. He wants…" She bit her lip and dropped her gaze.
"You?"
She nodded. "The lust in his eyes was clear the first time we met. I thought he was going to drool."
"The bastard." Maybe Rebbie would call him out to a duel and kill him. 'Twas naught more than he deserved.
Frowning, Rebbie growled a curse and rolled out of the bed and onto his feet. He went to the fireplace and added two pieces of wood. He had to help her. Nay, he wanted to help her. She had no one else to fight for her, to support her. And to him, she was… an angel. Perfection. No one had ever touched him the way she did, not just his body but his soul.
He returned to the bed and slid between the sheets. She'd covered herself with the linen sheet and wool blanket, and he pulled them to his waist. "I'll meet with the bastard and pay him off. I'll also tell him to stay the hell away from you or he'll find his throat slit."
She shook her head. "Nay, I can't let you do that, Rebbie."
"Why not?"
"'Tis a lot of money. I have no inkling how I would ever repay it. My position as companion to Elena does not pay very well."
"I'm not concerned about that. I simply want the whoreson to leave you alone. You've done naught to deserve such savage treatment."
"I thank you but I cannot take the money. 'Twould make me feel cheap like a—"
"Nonsense," he muttered, not liking the direction of her thoughts. "It has naught to do with what we just shared in this bed. 'Tis simply that I have money and you need some of it."
She frowned. "Is such a large amount naught to you?"
He shrugged. In truth, the amount wouldn't put a strain on him, but to say so would make him seem like a snobbish swine. "Silver is of little use sitting in a treasury. 'Tis time some of it was used." He'd spent very little. He was glad the money was there when he needed it, but he wasn't a spendthrift. His only vice was fine horses, and he had but one of those at the moment, though he intended to buy plenty more.
"You are mad," she muttered.
"Aye, likely I am. And about the paid companion position, it gores me to think about you having to work. 'Tis not right. Your husband should've been dirked."
"He was."
"What? You didn't tell me this."
"Aye." A dark shadow passed behind her eyes. "Stanbury was found stabbed and robbed in Edinburgh. In a bad part of town."
<
br /> Rebbie frowned, fear for her goring him. "Claybourne did it, aye?" She could've so easily landed in the lap of a murderer.
"It crossed my mind, but I have no proof."
He hoped she hadn't been with him at the time. "Were you in Edinburgh when it happened?"
"Nay. I was at home."
"Did Claybourne contact you after that?"
"About a month later, he came calling for the remainder of what he said was owed him. He showed me a paper supposedly signed by my husband. I couldn't tell if 'twas really his signature. The seal from his ring was stamped on it in wax."
"Claybourne could've done that after he killed him."
She nodded.
"He's naught but a criminal, a murderer. And you need help. You need protection from him."
"'Twould be madness for you to become involved in this mess."
"I'm already involved. I rescued you. No doubt he has it in for me now, anyway. I'll take you to Castle Rebbinglen. 'Tis a well-guarded fortress."
"I cannot go there with you. What would people think?" Her face flushed red. "I cannot be your mistress. Glenhaven would surely seek full custody of Jamie and I'd never see him again." She looked stricken with panic of a sudden.
"I'm not suggesting you become my mistress," he said calmly. "I but want to protect you and help you pay the debt."
She squeezed her eyes closed as if she hated the very idea. "I would need to work for you to pay it back."
Rebbie glared at her. A lady simply did not work. Not one like Calla. Or at least she shouldn't. "Nay. No work. I've already decided."
She frowned. "You cannot simply decide to pay off my debt," she said firmly.
"'Tis not your debt. 'Tis your late husband's."
"Still, you're mad to do such a thing."
He nodded. "I've often been called mad. But 'tis the right thing to do."
"I'll find a way to repay you, then. Somehow."
"Don't concern yourself over it. Besides, if Claybourne messes about too much, I'll kill him instead of paying him."
Calla blanched. "Rebbie, nay! Do you wish to be hanged?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't murder him. 'Twould be a fair fight, a matter of self-defense."
"I don't want you risking your life for me," Calla said in a forceful tone.
"Have you so little confidence in me and my abilities?"
"Nay!" She blew out a breath. "I don't want you dying because of me, nor going broke."
"Ha. I can't believe you think either would happen."
"It could."
"Well, I thank you for worrying about me." He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "But I will take care of it once you're safe back at Draughon."
She pulled away from him and, covering herself more fully with the blanket, frowned at the ceiling.
"What is it?"
"Although I appreciate your wanting to help, I don't care for your high-handedness." She flicked him a peevish glare.
"What do you suggest then? Do you have a better idea than mine own?"
"'Tis not so simple."
"Ah, but it can be. I'm making it simple." Missing her warmth, he scooted closer to her. "When you want something, you but only need ask me for it," he said in a gentler tone.
"I'm not asking for help with this."
Whether she asked or not, she needed help in the worst way. And he was capable of providing it. "But you did ask for my help one time, at that inn."
An adorable pink color spread over her face and the upper part of her chest and she gave him an uncertain glance, pain-filled and raw.
"I was happy to help you out then, just as I am now."
"'Tis two far different things," she whispered.
"It matters not to me."
A knock sounded at the door. "M'lady!" a female voice called. "'Tis time for supper!"
Calla sat up, wide-eyed. "Just a minute!" She turned to Rebbie. "Hide," she whispered.
Unmoving, Rebbie frowned. "Why ever for?"
"Shh."
"Sounds like the housekeeper," he whispered.
She nodded.
"Do we really care what she thinks?"
"Maybe you don't. But I don't want her shooting me looks of scorn."
Women. He shook his head, gave her a wee smile, and slid from the bed. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about. 'Twas not as if the housekeeper was going to crash Edinburgh society and spread rumors about them. They were in the middle of nowhere and the only people nearby were crofters. Besides, Mistress Hillman liked him and Calla. He didn't think she would start gossip.
The blanket wrapped around her, Calla approached the door. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
"Very well." Light footsteps hastened away.
Calla rushed back to the bed, threw down the blanket and grabbed her petticoats.
Having already slipped the shirt over his head, he belted his plaid and watched her, taking in the lush beauty of her naked curves. Arousal burned into him. Damn, but he wanted to toss her upon the bed again. Catching his eye, she sent him a mock look of censure.
Sending her a devilish smile, he shrugged. "Cannot help myself. You are a feast for the eyes." And mouth. Aye, he wanted to lick every inch of her.
Blushing, she allowed a wee smile to peep out, then donned her corset. 'Twas the sort that laced in front. How he loved the way it pushed up her breasts and created delectable cleavage. He growled, pulled her to him, and kissed the upper swells of her breasts.
"You are luscious," he hissed.
"Rebbie," she chastised in a loud whisper but couldn't hold back a wee giggle.
He pressed one last kiss to her cleavage and stood back, grinning, so aroused he was near mad with it. He helped her with her dress and they were soon ready to leave the room, though he didn't want to. He supposed the servants would wag their tongues if they stayed in bed and ignored supper.
"I'll slip out first, and go to my chamber," he said. "I'll see you in the great hall."
"Very well."
"But first..." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.
***
"I'm going to take Devil out for a run. Want to go with me?" Rebbie asked Calla the next day after the midday meal in the great hall.
"Are you certain 'tis safe? What about the wolves… and Claybourne?"
"I have two pistols, if the wolves attack. I've had the castle's guards stationed on the ramparts since we arrived, keeping an eye out for Claybourne or anyone approaching. They've seen naught thus far. Besides, we'll not ride far."
Rebbie didn't know why he was asking her to accompany him on Devil's daily exercise run, but he loved the way she felt riding behind him, her arms around him. Once Lachlan and all the men arrived to help escort her back to Draughon, he would have almost no private time with her. And he found he enjoyed spending time with her, even if all they did was talk or ride a horse. Something about her smile and the way her eyes met his with trust and eagerness clutched at his heart.
"Very well," she said, "if you don't think I'll be in the way."
"Of course, you'll not be in the way." How could she even think such a thing? "Meet me at the stables as soon as you're ready."
She nodded and disappeared up the stairs.
Outside in the stables, Rebbie saddled Devil himself while the stable lads darted here and there, bringing him various items before he even asked for them. Clearly, they were not accustomed to a laird doing anything for himself. But he enjoyed saddling a horse at times. Besides, if he did it, he knew it was done right.
At least he hoped that was the case. His mind kept drifting back to Calla and their bedsport of the previous day. When he'd stripped the clothing from her body and revealed her tasty curves, he'd been near speechless. How could anyone be so beautiful? Her creamy, full breasts with their beaded rosy nipples were a carnal delight, and he wanted to do naught but suckle and kiss them until she cried out her pleasure. And the rest of her was… Saints! He couldn't think of that without hungering
to rush inside and toss her upon the bed again.
He was as hard as he'd been yesterday. He ground his teeth, trying to push the irrational need away.
Though he'd yearned to spend the whole night with her, he'd forced himself to stay away. He didn't want her to think the reason he intended to help her with the debt had anything to do with them sharing a bed. It certainly didn't. He simply wanted to keep her safe from that knave. But he suspected, as she'd said, Claybourne didn't want the money as much as he wanted Calla. If that was the case, paying him off would do no good.
Besides that, Rebbie sensed she was hiding something. At times, she withdrew from him and closed herself off.
When she said naught was wrong, he didn't believe her. She was not a gifted liar and clearly dishonesty did not come naturally to her. Whatever she was keeping from him made her highly uncomfortable. He wanted to break down that wall and get to know every facet of her soul. How could he do that?
"You ken how to saddle a horse, m'laird?" she asked behind him.
Releasing the stirrup, he turned, warmth and amusement filling him at her wee coy smile. "I do indeed. Shocking, is it not?" Finished with the task, he motioned her forward. "Come."
Once they were both mounted, him in the saddle and her on a pillion cushion made of blankets behind him, he walked the horse through the portcullis. It closed behind them. He'd already asked the guards to keep an eye on MacFadden, and to be ready to open the portcullis again immediately upon their return.
He loved the feel of Calla's hands resting at his waist but, one by one, he pulled them further around and had her clasp them in front. "Hold tight. I don't want you falling off if Devil gets rowdy."
"Very well."
As soon as he loosened the reins and tapped his heels, Devil surged forward into a gallop and then a run. Energy and excitement fairly danced off the horse.
Calla smiled, exhilaration surging through her as she held on tight to Rebbie as he and Devil took her for a wild ride across the heathery moor, the rose-colored drifts lovely amongst the bright green patches of grass. The loch glimmered in the distance, reflecting the blue sky.
Who was she? She didn't even recognize herself, participating in such breakneck adventures. It reminded her of the day before, making love to Rebbie. The risk and excitement was something she didn't usually indulge in, but she couldn't help herself. Joy and fun had been absent for most of her life, but Rebbie kenned well how to bring it back.
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