"Ye willnae be alone,” Balfour said, watching Nigel closely as he nudged Maldie out of the room. “Old Caitlin is hobbling her way to your room e'en as we speak.” He grinned when Nigel groaned a curse. “She cannae wait to spend a few hours with ‘her wee, bonny bairn.’”
"What was that all about?” Maldie demanded after Balfour shut the door and started to tug her along the hallway.
"Old Caitlin was Nigel's nursemaid, his milkmother,” Balfour replied. “She still sees him as a wee lad, not a mon, and treats him so. And, why have ye suddenly agreed to come with me after fleeing from the sight of me for days?"
Maldie briefly considered telling him the truth, that Nigel was wooing her. She had simply made a choice between the two brothers, both of whom were trying to lure her into bed. There was a chance she could put a stop to Nigel's tentative seduction before there was any real confrontation. To walk off with Balfour, who made little secret of what he wanted from her, might be one way to do that. She brushed aside the thought of telling Balfour any of that, however. She was courting enough trouble by simply lingering at Donncoill without setting one brother against the other or, worse, inspiring them to indulge in some manly competition where she was the prize.
"I havenae been fleeing from you,” she protested, struggling to sound haughty.
"Aye, ye have. Scurrying off like a wee timid mousie flushed from the grain."
"Ye think yourself far more important than ye are."
"Racing for the safety of some warren like a wee rabbit with the hounds after it."
"I was but leaving so that ye and your brother could have some time to speak privately."
"Bounding off like a deer that has heard the hunter's horn."
"Ye are going to run out of animals soon."
Balfour choked back a laugh. “Slinking off into the shadows like a whipped cur."
"Wait a moment.” Maldie stopped as they left the keep, yanking on her arm hard enough to halt him and make him face her. “What happened to bounding, racing, and fleeing?"
"Ye dinnae like the word slinking, eh?"
"I am nay afraid of you, Balfour Murray."
He hooked his arm through hers and started to walk again. “Nay? Then ye run from me because I am nay as pretty as Nigel?"
She stumbled slightly and he watched her closely as he waited for her reply. From the moment Nigel had opened his eyes after shaking free of the fever's grip, Balfour had sensed that the man was no longer seeing Maldie as a possible threat. The gleam he had sometimes caught in his brother's eyes had not been that of a man seeking to solve a mystery or root out betrayal. Nigel wanted Maldie, and Balfour began to think his brother wanted her as badly as he himself did.
The instant he had seen the glint of desire in Nigel's glance, Balfour had fought the urge to pull Maldie out of his brother's reach and hide her away, like some greedy child hoarding a favorite toy. From the time he had been of an age to take an interest in women, Balfour had seen that most of the ladies favored Nigel over him. Nigel had been graced with a fair face, a lighter nature, and an admirable skill with words. The lasses had always sighed over Nigel's beauty, praised his sweet tongue, his charm, and his courtly ways. One had even told Balfour that Nigel's skill in the bedchamber far surpassed his own. It was an old jealousy, one he had thought he had outgrown until he had seen Nigel smile so sweetly at Maldie. He had fought to remain silent, to still his concerns, and just watch the two together. Balfour had seen no sign that Maldie was swayed by Nigel in any way, but he wanted to hear her speak of her indifference aloud.
"I dinnae think there are many men in Scotland who are as pretty as Nigel,” Maldie replied, watching Balfour covertly and curious about the grimace that so briefly twisted his strong features. It was as if she had somehow hurt him. “Aye, mayhap not e'en in the whole world. A verra pretty mon is your brother."
"The lasses have always sighed o'er him.” Balfour inwardly cursed, for he was sure he had sounded sullen.
Maldie nodded. “I suspect the mon has ne'er had to chase a lass verra far or verra hard."
"And how hard will he have to work to win you?"
He spoke in a near whisper and Maldie again stopped to stare at him. The man was jealous. Even scolding herself for excessive vanity did not alter her opinion. He had seen Nigel's interest in her and clearly thought that, like so many other women before her, she would quickly succumb to a bonny face, a sweet smile, and pretty words. His jealousy was dangerously flattering, but his unspoken accusation was insulting. Then she realized that Balfour struggled with an old jealousy, one he neither wanted nor liked to feel, but one that had undoubtedly been heartily fed over the years by foolish women. She could probably push him away, maybe even kill his desire for her, if she pretended to be swayed by Nigel, to be as easily captivated by beauty and a skillful tongue as other women he had known. But she could not grasp the opportunity presented to her. It was not simply because she could not set one brother against another, either. Sympathy for what he felt stopped her. Maldie understood what he suffered all too well. Because she was poor and a bastard, she had often been ignored or cast aside.
"Verra hard indeed,” she replied and started to walk again.
"Aye? I have seen the way he looks at you."
"Ah, that is too bad. I had hoped he would be cured of that ere anyone noticed. The mon but feels a softening toward one who has eased his pain. And, dinnae forget, I am nearly all he has had to look upon for a week and a day."
"A face any mon would take great pleasure in watching."
She felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks and inwardly cursed. Nigel's soft, poetic flatteries had only stirred unease and an occasional smile. Balfour awkwardly telling her that she was pretty caused everything inside of her to soften. Maldie feared she was already past saving, that Balfour had already slinked into her heart. While she had been worrying over the passion they shared and how to fight it, her heart had quietly accepted him as the man it wanted. That meant that she had a lot more than her own errant desires to fight. It also meant that her chances of leaving Donncoill unchanged were a great deal less than she had thought.
Maldie was abruptly pulled from her dark thoughts when Balfour stopped and turned her to face him. She hastily looked around and silently cursed. He had walked her to a deserted, sheltered corner. They were encircled by piles of stone and the irregular walls of the tower he was having built. From the wideness of the grin on his face, she was sure that had been his plan all along. Balfour had not taken her outside to enjoy a warm, spring day, but to lure her to a sheltered place so that he could steal another kiss.
What really troubled Maldie was that she was making no effort to thwart him in his seductive game. She should be inflicting pain upon the man, breaking free of his hold, and getting back to the safety of Nigel's room as fast as she could. Instead she remained still in his arms, thinking with some amusement that he was a handsome rogue.
"So, this is what ye plotted all along,” she said, her palms flat against his broad chest in a weak, fraudulent show of resistance.
"Do ye accuse me of base trickery?” he asked, his voice pleasant, almost amused, as he brushed a kiss over her forehead.
"Aye, I do. Do ye deny it?” She shivered with ill-concealed delight as he kissed the hollow behind her ear.
"'Twas no plot or trickery, bonny Maldie. Merely a thought, something I considered.” He grinned when she uttered a short, sharp sound of disgust. “Ye did need to get out of that room."
Just as Maldie opened her mouth to tell him succinctly that he was speaking utter nonsense, he touched his lips to hers. A little voice in her head told her that she was courting danger, but she easily ignored it. The warmth his slow, enticing kiss stirred within her melted away all common sense and resistance. He made her feel good and, she ruefully admitted, she was too weak to refuse that.
As he deepened the kiss, she curled her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him. The tremor that went through him spread to her
own body. It astounded and alarmed her that one simple kiss could so enflame them both. The thought that they were behaving no better than animals in rut crossed her mind and cooled her passion slightly. Before she could grasp control of herself, however, Balfour slid his hand up her rib cage and over her breast. He brushed his thumb over her nipple until it hardened, pressing painfully against the worn linen of her chemise. The feelings that spread through her left her gasping for air and sanity. The latter proved to be unattainable.
Balfour slowly moved her around until her back was against one of the partially erected walls of the unfinished tower. She knew he was unlacing her gown, but could not muster up the will to push him away, almost aiding him as he tugged her bodice down until it hung in a lump at her waist. His unsteady fingers brushed her skin as he unlaced her chemise. She found the strength to murmur a nay, but he kissed away her halfhearted protest. Maldie knew that she lacked the strength to shove him away from her, that she was allowing him such freedom because her skin ached for his touch.
When he opened her chemise the cool afternoon air brushed her skin, chilling her. Then Balfour kissed the soft skin between her breasts and the warmth returned. Maldie sighed her pleasure, threading her fingers through his thick hair, as he gently traced the full shape of her breasts with light kisses. When he enclosed the hardened tip of one breast in his mouth, teased it with his tongue, and then began to suckle, Maldie heard someone groan. It was a moment before she realized that that sound of blind greed had come from her own throat. Then she gave herself over completely to the desire Balfour stirred within her.
It was the sweet sound of children laughing that finally brought Maldie to her senses. She became painfully aware of where she was, that she was half-naked, and that the air was cool on her skin, so quickly she was robbed of breath for a moment. An inarticulate curse escaped her, and she started to push Balfour away only to realize that he had already begun to release her. As she fumbled with the laces on her chemise and gown, she tried not to think on how well he had sensed her change of mood. She forced herself to think not only of how close she had come to losing her innocence outside, against a wall, but steps from a crowded bailey, and how furious that made her, at herself and at Balfour.
Balfour pressed his body against the chill, damp stone of the partially built wall as he watched Maldie fix her gown. It did little to cool the heat in his blood. He had sensed the moment she had shaken free of desire's grip and used all of his willpower to let her go. Knowing that he had done the right thing did not ease the aching want twisting his insides, however. He did not feel noble, just starved for more of the passion they could share. The look of anger settling on her still flushed face told him that it could well be a very long time before he got another chance to taste that passion.
"I am nay better than some witless hedgerow whore,” Maldie grumbled as she vainly tried to put some order into her badly tousled hair.
"Nay. A hedgerow whore feels naught,” Balfour said as he slouched against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he fought the urge to reach for her. “She just lies there, enduring, and waiting for ye to press a coin into her palm."
She bit back the urge to ask him how he knew so much about whores. “At least that serves some practical purpose. ‘Tis clear that I am prepared to open my legs for no more than a bonny smile.” Maldie was so disgusted with herself, so disappointed by her own weakness, she realized that she had no time or inclination to be embarrassed by what had just happened. “I am no better than my poor mother. I rush to repeat her folly."
"As I seem to rush to repeat my father's. Or so I thought. Howbeit, I have never acted in this way before, have ye?"
"Of course not.” Maldie knew she ought to leave before Balfour said anything else. The man had a true skill at speaking simple truths, ones she could not deny.
"Weel, my father bedded any wench who would allow it for miles around and claimed to love half of them. ‘Tis a wonder that Donncoill doesnae swarm with his bastards. I have e'er fought hard to keep my blood cool and my head clear. And your mother's folly?"
"She bore me."
"I dinnae see that as a folly,” he said softly.
"Oh, but it was. I am the bastard child of a mon who didnae feel bound by his marriage vows.” She had to sharply bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying anything else about her father, surprised at how Balfour's soft look made her feel compelled to tell the truth. “The way he left her alone when he got her with child should have made her wary, but it didnae, not for a long time. Aye, she loathed him, yet it didnae seem to stop her from thinking that the next mon would be different. In some ways they were. Most at least gave her some coin or a few gifts. At some time, she ceased to care or feel, simply took the money."
"I cannae believe ye would ever become like that.” Balfour inwardly cursed, for, although he felt a deep sympathy for the sad life she had had to endure, he also saw how it could give Maldie the strength to fight the passion that flared between them. “Ye are too strong."
"My mother was a strong woman.” Even though she spoke firmly, Maldie realized that she was no longer so certain of that. “She was brought low by a mon, used and cast aside, twisted by his heartlessness until she grew as heartless as he. No mon will drag me down. I will heed no lies nor be the loser in some mon's game."
"And I neither lie nor play a game. What flares between us, lass, is heady and sweet. Aye, and methinks it may be stronger than both of us."
"Nay. ‘Tis but a heedless thing, nay more than what possesses the forest beasts in rutting season. I willnae let it win."
Balfour sighed and watched her walk away. There was nothing he could say to change her mind anyway. He now believed that he and Maldie shared far more than his feckless father had shared with any woman, including his mother. What flared between him and Maldie was fierce and went deeper than lust. He was not sure, however, if it was fate, one of those rare, blinding passions most men dream about but never taste, or the first stirrings of love. Neither did he know exactly what he wanted of Maldie beside bedding her, so he could make her no promises. She would easily sense his uncertainty if he tried to discuss what they felt. It could even make her think he was lying to her just to gain what he wanted. It was hard to put the ring of truth behind one's words when one did not know what the truth was.
They were at an impasse, he decided as he slowly made his way back to the keep, a cold, sleep-robbing impasse. Both of them feared repeating the mistakes of their elders. Maldie would lose her chastity if she succumbed to the passion they shared and, quite often, that was all the dowry a poor girl had. He could not, at least not yet, offer her any more than an equal passion. With Eric's life at risk and a battle looming, it was not the time for him to make any promises to any women, especially to a poor fatherless girl who held close to too many secrets. Balfour sighed again. It began to look as if Maldie was the only one who could solve their dilemma. She was the one who would be risking all for passion. Balfour just wished that he would be given a few more chances to show her what she would deny herself if she turned him away. But, after today, he would be very surprised if Maldie let him within shouting distance.
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Chapter Five
"What are you doing, ye great fool?"
Maldie could not believe the sight that greeted her as she stepped into Nigel's room. She had been gone barely an hour, and it appeared that relaxing her guard for even that short a time had been a mistake. In the week since Balfour had nearly succeeded in seducing her, she had gratefully found herself diverted by the battle to keep Nigel from trying to do too much too soon. Looking at him standing there, a young maid unsteadily supporting him as he tried to walk, Maldie did not feel so grateful anymore. Although there was little chance of him opening his wounds, the man could easily and permanently cripple himself.
"Jennie, is it?” Maldie asked as she moved to take over the pale girl's place supporting the trembling, sweating Ni
gel.
"Aye, mistress.” Jennie grimaced and absently rubbed her lower back.
"I ken that this fool can be sweet and cajoling,” she ignored Nigel's muttered complaints over her insults as she urged him back to his bed, “howbeit, ye are to ignore his pleas or commands to help him to walk."
"But, mistress,” Jennie hesitated at the door, watching a softly cursing Nigel with wide eyes.
"If ye fear disobeying the laird's own brother, dinnae worry o'er it. I can speak to Sir Balfour and he will readily repeat my command. This fool isnae supposed to be up on these wee, spindly legs unless I say so."
"Spindly?” Nigel muttered, as Jennie fled the room and Maldie got him comfortably arranged on his bed.
"Ye wish to be crippled, do ye?” Maldie asked, putting her hands on her hips as she stared down at the man.
"Nay, of course I dinnae wish for that. I will be, howbeit, if I dinnae get my strength back."
"Ye were badly wounded, lost a great deal of blood, and suffered a long, fierce fever less than a fortnight ago. Ye cannae expect to be up and dancing so soon. ‘Tis necessary to let your whole body recoup the strength it lost, to renew the blood that poured out of you and make it hearty again. That requires rest and food."
"I at least feel hale enough to try and walk again."
"Aye, that is clear enough to see. What can also be seen is that when ye stand up ye sweat and tremble like a man with the ague. ‘Tis your body telling you that ye arenae ready at all. Heed it or it will make ye pay dearly for disobeying it.” She moved to pour him some wine.
"Ye make it sound as if my body has its own life and rules, seperate from what my mind says."
"It does.” She handed him the goblet of wine, frowning when she saw how he had to hold it with both hands because of the faint tremor in his arms. “I think ye have wit enough to ken that your body is now telling you that ye have been verra foolish indeed."
Nigel groaned and tried to thrust the goblet at her, but lacked the strength for such a forcible gesture. He was barely able to hold it out to her with only one unsteady hand without dropping it. “If I must lie abed for verra much longer I may weel be strong enough to walk again, but I will also be drooling mad."
Highland Destiny [Murray Brothers Book 1] Page 5
