‘Rock your hips, lass,’ he whispered. There was so much more he wanted to do then, so many places he wanted to taste and pleasure, but this night was not for that. His bollocks tightened too, aroused to bursting at the sight of her melting against his hand.
Niall shifted more to his side, opening her up to him, and increased the pressure against the nub that now hardened like his flesh did. With one finger, he slid back the hood of flesh and touched it directly, just as could be done to his erection. She gasped and then her body shuddered and trembled against him. He did not stop rubbing and stroking and plunging his fingers into her until her body surrendered and collapsed against him.
He held her in his arms then, sliding her leg down and tugging her shift back to cover her. She was not even aware of him then, for the pleasure had overwhelmed her. So, he lay there, with her in his arms, feeling quite noble. His prick was not happy, it lay there on his belly hard and unsatisfied, but Niall would hold to his decision about her.
He might not be able to keep her, but he would not take her virtue. He might have pleasured her, he might even have seen the first time she was aroused and reached satisfaction, however, hapless Dougal would be in for a surprise when his bride proved to be a virgin in the marriage bed. Something deep within Niall, some feeling from the days when his family yet lived together and he was being groomed as his father’s heir, unfurled inside him and made him think he was not a complete and utter failure.
Chapter Nineteen
Fia watched as he walked unaided across the yard before the inn. It was the most level place for him to practise. He held his walking stick, procured by Mistress Murray’s cousin for his use, but refused to rely on it. For most of the last hour or so, it stood up, stuck in the dirt like a strange plant, where he’d put it.
It pleased her to see him so improved, even while her heart broke with each passing day. She’d not gathered up enough courage to ask him for his story. When he’d touched her with such passion and such caring, she could almost believe he would not leave her. His restlessness as he improved in strength and endurance each day simply pushed the truth ever closer. Fia understood that when he finally asked her to turn the ring and prayer book back to him, it would be time.
For now, she was determined to enjoy every moment with him so that she could savour the memories even into her old age. As he passed her by, counting aloud for the number of times he’d crossed the yard, he smiled and touched her hand. Though the day was fair with a bit of spring chill in the air, he was sweating from the effort. After he made it across and back one more time, she stepped in front of him.
‘This is enough, Iain. You should rest before you tire yourself out completely.’
He accepted the mug of ale from her and drank it in two long swallows. When he handed it back to her and turned, she stopped him, her hand on his arm.
‘You just rose from your sickbed not five days ago. Do you wish to return to it so soon?’ she asked.
‘You sound like a nagging fishwife, Fia.’ Standing in the middle of the yard, surrounded by animals, travellers and dust, with her hands on her hips now, Fia thought she might be one. He smiled then and nodded. ‘You have the look of one as well.’
‘I think I have been listening to Mistress Murray too closely,’ she admitted.
‘And you like to be in charge of things,’ he said. Though he teased her, she knew it for the truth it was. She did like to say what, where, when and how things should be accomplished. He walked to her side and leaned in closer. ‘’Tis a failing of yours I have noticed lately.’
’Twas true—she did not like to sit around and be told what to do. Oh, that was exactly what she did within the household of the chieftain, but the trouble she got into usually involved matters of control.
‘Make no mistake,’ he said softly now, catching her gaze with his. ‘I cannot complain about your tendency to take over matters, for if you had not, I would have died.’ He reached out to take her hand and she gave the tiniest shake of her head to warn him off. Their pretence still stood in place. ‘I will be grateful to you for ever, nagging fishwife or not.’
‘Fia, lass!’ the innkeeper called out to her. ‘Can ye pick up my order at the butcher’s? ’tis small enough for ye to manage.’
‘Aye, Mistress,’ she said. ‘Do you feel strong enough to walk with me? You have seen nothing but the inn and this yard. ’tis no more than three streets up and two over.’ He looked fit and strong standing before her.
‘I will need my sword and bring along our purse,’ he said. She smiled when he called it that. She’d spent whatever coins she’d needed from his.
Within a few minutes, they were walking slowly away from the inn for the first time since they’d arrived there almost a sennight ago. Once they turned the corner and were out of sight of the building, Iain stopped for a moment.
‘I need to find the bailiff’s house,’ he said. ‘Do you know where it is?’
‘Aye.’ She only knew because she’d witnessed a fight in the streets one of the first times she’d walked out and the perpetrators had been dragged away by the bailiff to face punishment. ‘When we turn left to the butcher’s, the bailiff’s is to the right.’ She did not ask. She would not ask.
‘I need to send a message to the King’s minister and the bailiff would be the most trustworthy in that task.’
It began now. The first step in the journey that would see them separated. It surprised her how much it hurt. All she could do was nod and take a deep breath to let the pain subside. As they walked, Fia felt him slip his hand around hers in between their bodies where it would be hidden from the sight of others.
She tried to talk as they walked, pointing out various merchants and people of interest to him that she’d met or heard Mistress Murray gossip about. Crieff was a large and busy market town and there was so much to see as they walked. Iain did not ask or add much to her conversation and she could see he was deep in thought. When they reached the crossroads she’d mentioned, she stopped and nodded to the right.
‘The bailiff’s is that large house, the third one on this street,’ she said, pointing to it. ‘Shall I wait for you?’
‘Nay, go on to the butcher’s and I will see you back at the inn, Fia,’ he said. She turned because she did not want him to see the tears that burned in her eyes. He grabbed her hand and tugged her back to face him. ‘I wish, I have prayed that there would be a different way to handle this and there is not. I will explain it all when we get to Edinburgh.’ She nodded, praying the tears would cease gathering. ‘One more thing.’ Fia looked up at him, waiting. ‘I need the ring.’
’Twas his ring, so why it should bother her so much to give it back, she knew not. She lifted it out from beneath her gown and over her head. Gathering up the leather strip she wore it on, she placed it in his hand. He closed his fist around it and stepped back.
‘I will see you at the inn,’ he said. Then he strode off in a slow, measured gait, avoiding horses and people across the street. He changed somehow as he walked away, he carried himself differently, became someone different.
In those moments, she felt the first cut in the tenuous fabric that bound them together. At first, she could not see her way for the tears, but she soon brought herself under control and wiped them away. Fia found the butcher’s street and turned towards it. As she passed by the opening of a small side lane, someone grabbed her and dragged her into the shadowed passageway. She was pushed up against a wall with a large, masculine hand over her mouth before she could take a breath.
‘Fia!’ The voice sounded familiar but only when the man pushed the hood back off his head did she recognise him.
‘Alan Cameron?’ she asked, searching his face. ‘Why are you in Crieff?’
‘Come away here,’ he urged as he tugged her deeper into the darkened alley. ‘We need to speak.’ She followed him
without resistance and he stopped a short distance further. ‘Brodie sent me, Fia. He sent me to find you.’
His words shocked her. It did not make sense until she considered it for a minute...or two...or three. Alan was the best tracker in both of their clans. He had, from the time he was a child, been able to find anything lost or stolen. He’d found Arabella when Brodie had kidnapped her. At the camp in the mountains.
‘You went to the camp?’ He nodded. ‘You followed them to the mountain?’ Another nod. ‘When?’
‘It matters not.’ He brushed off the rest of her questions. ‘I will take you home now.’ He glanced towards the main street. ‘Before he comes back.’
‘He? You mean Iain?’ she asked.
‘Aye. I know he kidnapped you from the village and took you to the mountain camp. I was there when the storm hit. Then after I followed one of the men when he left the camp to his destination, I came back to get you out and you, and everyone, were gone.’ He pushed his hair back and rubbed his face. ‘God Almighty, I thought you must be dead when I saw all the blood!’
‘I am well, Alan. Truly,’ she said, hugging him. Brodie had sent help as she’d expected. ‘You came alone?’
‘Aye. Brodie wanted to keep it as quiet as possible. To avoid...avoid... Oh, hell, Fia, he wanted to protect your reputation as much as he could.’ Even under the dirt on his face, she could see the faint blush fill his cheeks. He raked his hair back once more and shrugged.
‘So now?’
‘Now, we leave. I have secured two horses and they’re waiting for us on the other side of the town. He cannot move quickly so he’ll have no way to follow or stop us.’ Alan slid his hand around her arm and began to walk. ‘I have coin enough and credit on Brodie’s name for whatever you need for the journey. We will head south to Stirling and then west from there to home.’
The answer to every problem stood before her with a plan, a good plan, to see her home safely. She would never have to see Iain again. Never have to face him walking away from her. Never know the truth that drove him.
‘I cannot come with you, Alan.’ She stepped back, pulling her arm free.
‘I do not know what he has done to you, Fia. Why you would want to see to his care and bring him here and then stay with him. But Brodie gave me orders and I will take you home.’
‘I will return home, but not yet. I need another day or two. He is not what he seems, Alan.’
‘Fia! He is a murdering, thieving outlaw. Even if he was not the one ordering the attacks, he took part in them.’
‘He is connected to the King, Alan. There is more going on here than you know,’ she said. The similarity to Iain’s words was not lost on her.
‘The King, Fia? The King? He is leading you on a merry dance. Using you, lass, for his own purposes. I saw you at the camp. The two of you.’ He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. ‘He was seducing you, lass. Using you for his own purposes. Even now, even here, he uses you.’
‘He has the King’s signet,’ she said in a furious whisper. ‘He seeks a meeting with his minister now.’
‘Anyone can make a signet, Fia lass. Would you know a real one if you saw it? But, come now. Before it is too late,’ Alan said, once more pushing her along the alleyway towards the road.
Fia tried to stay calm, but she knew she could not go with him. If she did, she would never find peace and she would regret and mourn the man she loved. So, she did the only thing she could...she ran. When she got to the street, she shouted for help. When Alan got there, he was besieged by people trying to help her.
Surprised for only a moment, he stared at her in disbelief and then took off running. No one could catch him, so Fia knew he would be safely away without harm. She watched as he disappeared around the corner, heading towards the other side of Crieff.
The butcher waved her inside his shop, offering her ale and a place to sit while she waited for Mistress Murray’s order. He complained loud and long over the increase in these petty street crimes. Guilt assailed her over what she had called down on Alan’s head, but she’d made her decision many days ago. She’d been through Highland storms, a hellish journey, a life-and-death struggle, had found the man of her dreams and would lose him soon enough.
But she would see this to the end, though her foolish heart filled with its foolhardy dreams kept beating with hope of an outcome more to her liking. Damn her stupid heart and her silly dreams!
* * *
Alan scrambled through the back alleys, behind, around and through stores and shops and inns and pubs, and managed to escape the angry mob Fia had called down on him. Now, sitting inside the stables where the horses awaited him behind an inn at the edge of Crieff, he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He had often heard his father and Brodie and other married men lament over the strongheaded women in their lives, but he’d never thought of Fia in that way.
He’d known her since she was a wee one in the camp. He’d barged in, intent on saving Arabella, and been captured by Brodie. He’d met her during the few days he’d been held, not unkindly, as prisoner until Arabella had freed him to escape. He’d continued to see the girl during visits over these last six years to Drumlui Keep and on her visits, travelling with Arabella, to The Cameron strongholds.
Now sitting here, pressing a cloth to the cut on the back of his head, he wondered if rescuing women was his strongest talent. Mayhap he should only search for lost animals or stolen property and leave the saving of maidens to others?
The only good to come from this startling encounter with Fia was that he knew their destination— Edinburgh. Whatever this Iain was doing, whatever he’d gotten into, he was taking that ring back to the King. If he’d stolen or fabricated it, the man would be facing his own death. Which made no sense.
Brodie and Alan’s own cousin both had factors who lived in Edinburgh and waited on the pleasure of the King while overseeing their masters’ business in the city. Large fortunes were traded there, goods of all sorts shipped from the city’s harbour to ports all over England, Scotland, Ireland and the Continent.
Alan decided to seek out Brodie’s factor and send a message to the chieftain concerning the whereabouts of his wife’s servant. He would wait on further orders before trying to take the lass anywhere.
And he would seek out information about the man he knew to be behind the attacks. That was not the kind of information to trust to any message carried by any messenger that was not himself. But that would keep for now. If he could not get the lass away, he would still try to protect her as much as he could, even if ’twas from herself.
He left that day, not waiting to begin his journey to Edinburgh. If the lass was telling the truth, if the man was telling her the truth, they would get to the King’s city not too far behind him.
Chapter Twenty
It took only two days to receive a reply to his message. The bailiff recognised the royal seal and could not help him enough in sending a messenger. Niall returned to the bailiff each day and was there when the messenger arrived with the answer to his request—the King would receive him privately at the guest house of Holyrood Abbey four days hence.
He took as a better sign the invitation to stay at the minister’s home just outside the abbey’s grounds the night before their meeting, to prepare the note said. Niall touched the ring that lay under his tunic and offered a prayer he would be successful and see his family reunited in their home.
Four days before he could make his argument to this godfather to return his status, his lands, his honour.
Four days before he would lose Fia.
* * *
He’d hired a small wagon to take them there, his leg not strong enough to ride a horse yet, and because it would give Fia a place to sleep if they could not find an inn. Now the drovers’ roads that Fia had used to bring him from the mountai
ns and to here became the main pathways from town to town. But even the sun, shining brightly on a clear, cool morning, did not brighten the lass’s face as they took their leave.
‘My thanks again, Mistress Murray,’ he called down once he manoeuvred himself on to the seat and straightened out his leg. With the wooden brace back in place, it took some help from the lads to make it possible. The brace, he thought, would be removed at their first stop.
‘Ye take care,’ she called back, ‘and ye see to our lass.’ The dark glare in her eyes belied her good wishes. If she knew what he would do, she would not be trying to be polite to him. Nay, she would be beating him with the broom she kept by the kitchen doorway and chasing him away from our lass.
Niall watched as she bent her head down, whispering to Fia. Every so often the lass would glance at him and nod at the woman. He tried not to stare, but lost the battle. Then, though she thought he did not see it, the older woman reached into her skirt and tucked something in Fia’s hand, closing her fingers around it so no one could see. More whispering followed before Fia threw her arms around the woman and hugged her. When a group of men arrived on horseback, Mistress Murray pulled away from Fia, smiled and waved her off.
The woman was, from the first to the last, a woman of business.
Niall reached over and helped Fia up on to the seat next to him. He’d noticed she’d slipped whatever the woman gave her into the convenient slit in her cloak before climbing up. Once she was settled, he shook the reins and guided the horse out on to the busy town streets.
She’d not asked any questions of him when he’d returned from the bailiff’s. Nor anything at all during the last three days as he sought out a way for them to travel. And part of him wished she would yell and scream at him like a fishwife, using some of the terrible words she knew, rather than the quiet acceptance in her gaze.
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