But then his eyes fell on the woman opposite her. He felt the blood drain from his face as he gaped, open-mouthed, then turned accusingly to Nathair.
Nathair tried his best to look innocent. “What?” he said. “I said we were comin’ to meet Munroe. An’ there he is yonder.”
Aye! An’ ye deliberately kept the truth from me!
He must have gasped, because all of the eyes in the tavern swiveled towards him, including Cicilia’s. He saw those green-gold eyes widen, then look between him and the woman, her impressive brain quickly calculating what was going on.
He watched as Cicilia shot Jeanie a look of accusation equal to the dark look he’d just given Nathair, then turn to the woman across from her.
“Kitty,” he heard Cicilia say, quite clearly. “Is a nickname, is it nae?”
“Aye,” the blonde woman replied primly. “O’ course it is. It’s a rather common short form o’ me name.”
“Which is Catherine,” Cicilia confirmed, closing her eyes. “Oh, God above, Jeanie, I’m gonnae slaughter ye.”
She groaned and put her face in her hands as Nathair grabbed Alexander by the elbow and steered him towards the table where the others sat.
“Catherine!” he said cheerfully, and Alexander began to picture various execution methods, wondering which of them would cause the least blood spilled.
“Greetin’s to ye, Nathair,” Catherine replied pleasantly. Then she stood and hurried around the table to pull Alexander into an embrace. “An’ it’s so wonderful to see ye, me wee brother. I was fair wonderin’ if I’d do so again before both o’ us had full heads o’ gray.”
“What are ye doin’ here, Catherine?” he demanded. He was angry, but not enough to hold back on embracing his sister, who he hadn’t seen in over a year. “What are ye doin’ wi—”
Wi’ her!
“I had nae idea,” Cicilia mumbled, not looking up from her hands.
“I’m here as Madame Sinclair, to accompany me Man-at-arms, o’ course,” Catherine said brightly, indicating Iain Munroe. Her blue eyes were wide and innocent, just as they’d always been when she’d stole the last of the sweet treats when they were children. “An’ I met Jeanie an’ she asked to introduce me to Miss O’Donnel.”
“An’ why is yer husband nae here?” Alexander asked through gritted teeth as he pulled away from the hug.
“Because I suggested she come instead. Ye’ve been so miserable, I thought a visit from yer sister would do ye some good,” Nathair told him as he cheerfully sat at the table.
“Aye. Miss Cicilia here was just tellin’ me some fascinatin’ things about yer leadership,” Catherine continued. “She’s an awfie bright lassie. I can see why ye’re so taken wi’ her.”
“That’s enough, Catherine,” Alexander insisted, knowing his neck and ears must be red by now. But a more suspicious part of his brain was instantly in overdrive.
Cicilia’s been talkin’ about me leadership? Sayin’ what? Kennin’ Catherine, she’s been askin’ leadin’ questions. Did Cicilia fall into her trap? Did she reveal how poorly she views me?
“I just think it’s very silly that you should be two people so in love with each other and so unable to express it,” Catherine said mildly. Alexander’s eyes snapped to her, and he saw Cicilia from the corner of his eye doing the same. Catherine barely reacted. “Nathair an’ Jeanie have told me, between them, everythin’ that’s goin’ on. The pair o’ ye are actin’ like fools.”
“I never said I loved him,” Cicilia snapped, and although it was the right answer, it felt like a shard of ice through Alexander’s heart. “Stop puttin’ words in me mouth!”
O’ course, she doesn’ae love me. I cannae be the farmer she wants. I cannae be anythin’ more than temporary protection. We’ve always kent that, both o’ us. So why am I hurtin’ so much at those words?
“Ye never said so, nay,” Catherine agreed in that same pleasant tone. “An’ ye, Sandy. I’ve never seen ye so het up about anythin’, much less a lass.”
“I’m het up because me best friend an’ me sister have been plottin’ behind me back! Believe it or nae, me life doesn’ae revolve around Cicilia,” he replied hotly. “I cannae believe yer audacity, all o’ ye. If Cicilia wanted to speak to me, she would.”
“If I wanted to speak to ye?” Cicilia demanded, disbelief coloring her tone. “What are ye talkin’ about? I’ve been tryin’ to speak to ye for days. Ye’re the one who keeps icin’ me out wi’ yer non-answers. Ye’re the one who cannae accept a genuine apology when ye hear it!”
Alexander felt angry heat spike in his chest and opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped, taking in their surroundings. “We’re in public,” he told her through gritted teeth. “We’re nae doin’ this here.”
Catherine nodded. “Good plan. Ye an’ Cicilia head on up to the room I’m rentin’ upstairs, an’ me an’ the rest will deal wi’ the politics.”
Alexander paused. “I dinnae think—”
“Nay—” Cicilia started.
But before they knew it, Jeanie and Nathair were bundling them off, and soon they up the stairs and in a tidy, clean room with a large, soft bed in the center. It adjoined to another, presumably the smaller room where Munroe had been sleeping.
Once they were satisfied that Cicilia and Alexander were inside, Nathair and Jeanie closed the door. Alexander was so surprised he couldn’t even object properly as he heard their footsteps retreat back downstairs.
He immediately moved to the door and tried to open it. “Locked,” he muttered.
Cicilia threw her hands in the air, exasperation evident. “Locked! O’ course it is! I’m gonnae slaughter her, an’ then we’ll see how pretty she’ll look for her weddin’.”
Alexander blinked. “What do ye mean, weddin’? Are ye talkin’ about Jeanie?”
Cicilia frowned as he turned to face her, as though she was trying to work out if he was teasing her or not. “O’ course I mean Jeanie,” she said slowly. “Who else would I be talkin’ about?”
Och. An’ Nathair was really just gettin’ to like the lass, as well.
“Bit cold o’ her, is it nae?” Alexander asked, folding his arms.
“What’s cold?” Cicilia snapped, instantly defensive of the friend she’d been threatening to murder a moment before. “Fallin’ in love? Carin’ about her grandda doesn’ae mean she’s tied there for life. Old Ewan will manage. Believe it or nae, Alexander, people are allowed to be happy.”
Familiar frustration trickled down Alexander’s spine. “Aye, an’ what o’ Nathair? What o’ his happiness? I’ve rarely seen him so taken wi’ a lass!”
“An’ that’s an issue?” she fired back. “What, is poor wee peasant Jeanie nae good enough for yer Man-at-arms in yer eyes?”
Only then did he understand what miscommunication had occurred, but that didn’t make any sense. “Are…are ye sayin’ that Jeanie is marryin’ Nathair?”
Cicilia let out a breath, apparently realizing he wasn’t criticizing Jeanie now. “O’ course she is, ye great pillock. The pair o’ them are smitten as a pair o’ swans. How could ye suspect anythin’ else?”
An’ he dinnae tell me? Since when do we keep secrets? Has Cicilia kent this whole time? Has she been laughin’ about it behind me back?
He knew that thought was irrational, but it filled him with hurt and anger anyway, even as her insult bounced off him with barely any effect.
“What?” Cicilia demanded. “Why are ye lookin’ like that?” She sighed, and some of the gentleness returned to her voice. “He was gonnae tell ye, obviously. He maybe dinnae get a chance yet, is all.”
She’s right. An’ yet…
“We’ve been together all mornin’,” he pointed out. “Why would he nae mention it then? Clearly, yer Jeanie did. Or is she just nae able to keep a secret?”
Too harsh, Alexander. Jeanie dinnae do anythin’ wrong. Ye’re annoyed about somethin’ entirely different. About Nathair lyin’ about Catherine, about Cicilia bein�
� the way she is…
But Cicilia’s eyes flashed with anger, and she said, “Well, maybe Nathair would o’ talked to ye if ye could get yer heid out of yer own backside for more than a mornin’ at once!” she accused angrily. “Ye’ve been poutin’ this whole time, have ye nae? Avoidin’ me, avoidin’ me siblings. Jamie cried the other night because he thinks ye dinnae like him anymore!”
The unfairness of this threatened to overwhelm Alexander where he stood. “Jamie’s cryin’ because o’ me?” he snapped back, matching her tone. “How in the world can ye stand there wi’ a straight expression an’ say such things? Ye’re the one who turned on me at a second’s notice. Ye’re the one who heard a bad thought an’ decided I was a villain the whole time.”
“Aye, I made a mistake!” Cicilia shouted, her cheeks red with fury once more.
She was stalking towards him, getting extremely close, and now they stood next to the bed, her staring up at him. “I made a mistake, an’ ye’ve been makin’ me pay penance for near a week! Meanwhile, I’ve been in the village tryin’ to clear yer name, while ye sulk in yer castle. How am I supposed to make people believe ye love them if ye cannae even show yer stupid, proud face?”
Alexander tightened his hands into fists, feeling the nails digging into his palms. “I dinnae ask for yer help!” he snarled. “I was doin’ just fine on me own for years until ye an’ yer chaos came along an’ messed everythin’ up!”
“Oh, is that right?” Cicilia snapped. “An’ did it ever occur to ye that I dinnae ask for yer help, Alexander? Eh? Ye showed up at me farm, drew out all me painful memories, threatened me livelihood, then moved me into yer Castle, an’ now ye won’t even speak to me!
“Because ye dinnae trust me, even after all that!” Alexander yelled in frustration. “What do ye nae get? I saw ye sufferin’ an’ I tried to help an’ ye threw it in me face!”
“I dinnae ask for yer help!” she repeated furiously, her eyes flashing as they glared into his. “Why do ye even care?!”
“An’ like I just said, I dinnae ask for yers. Why do ye care?!” Alexander demanded, leaning down so close that their noses were almost touching. The world seemed to slow down to a standstill for a moment, the anger transforming inside his belly into a new heat. He was still fueled by rage and indignation, but her body was so close, her lips so plump and fresh and near…
“Why do ye care?” he repeated.
And then her arms were around his neck and his around her waist, lifting her off her feet as they fell into a passionate kiss. All of their frustrations were suddenly channeled through the fierce movement of their mouths and tongues. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and one of his hands moved to curve around her buttocks as he stumbled backward.
“Cicilia,” he mumbled against her lips as he held her in mid-air.
“Quiet yer tongue,” she hissed back, moving her face to kiss the skin just above his beard, then his neck, his ear, and the little sparks of pleasure made his legs so weak that soon he fell back on the bed, bringing her down with him.
She was straddled on top of him on the bed now, and she started impatiently pulling at his shirt, not bothering to be careful to avoid scratching with her nails or pulling at his hair. He tried to help her, but she slapped his hands away, determined to do it herself, and Alexander felt a rush of blood to his groin at the fierce look in her eyes.
I’m so angry. I want her so much.
And then his shirt was gone, and she’d lowered her face to his chest, kissing and sucking and definitely leaving bruises and marks. Alexander shuddered as the pleasure overcame him, but he would not just lay there and let her have her victory. Putting his arms around her back, he twisted and rolled them both so that now he was pinning her.
She was breathing heavily, her hair in disarray and her eyes wide and wild as he dealt with her clothes and removed those that remained on his own body. Then slowly, without breaking eye contact, he knelt at her feet and pulled her legs over his shoulders.
He heard her sharp intake of breath as he found her sweet spot with his tongue, dancing around it, teasing and licking, and sucking. She squirmed under him, gasping. Her hands found his hair, pulling, and the pain of it just fueled his fury and need further.
Cicilia let out a little whimper, and he moved one of his hands, sliding a finger inside her while his mouth worked her delicate spot. It wasn’t too long before he felt her muscles tightening, and she started shaking around him.
Good. Ye’re mine. Mine.
He worked his hand a little harder and his tongue a little more insistently, and he heard her breathing catch then speed, faster, faster, faster…
And then she cried out, her whole body contracting, her hips lifting off the bed. When she finally relaxed, he withdrew his hand and his face. She grabbed at him immediately, pulling him up to meet her, and Alexander was now more than happy to obey.
Clambering on top of her, he entered her almost in a rush, and her nails digging into his backside encouraged it. It didn’t last long, neither of them wanted it to be drawn out. Both thrust furiously, scrabbling at each other’s skin, lips, hands, everything overwhelmed by the sensation as their bodies moved together.
He thought Cicilia cried out again, but just as he was going to confirm it, his own climax came, and he grunted, his hands clenching on the bedsheets as it threatened to take him over entirely.
That part seemed to last forever, a new height of pleasure he didn’t remember before, and then he fell flat on top of her.
They didn’t speak for a long time.
Then, in a low, sleepy voice, Cicilia muttered, “I’m still mad, ye ken.”
“Aye, me as well,” he murmured back. He rolled off and took her in his arms, and she clung to him as they dozed off. People were waiting downstairs, and their problems still existed, but for now…
…for now, there was just each other, and that was enough.
Chapter 23
Alma Soror
Nourishing Sister
Cicilia wasn’t sure how long they had been asleep, but by the time she opened her eyes, the sun was setting. She turned to her side and saw Alexander lying there, his eyes open as he watched her with a small smile on his face.
“Is this how we’re gonnae resolve every argument?” he teased. “Because if so, I’m gonnae have to mess wi’ ye more often.”
She slapped his chest, but lightly, and struggled to her feet. Groping around in the dark for a little, she eventually found the bedside candle, which she lit in order to dress once more. She was just tying her laces shut while Alexander was securing his final shirt fastener when the door opened.
“Ah, good morrow to ye both,” Kitty—or, rather, Catherine—said in a chirpy voice.
“Have ye never heard o’ privacy, Sister?” Alexander grunted.
Catherine simply smiled. “Aye. But I think ye’ll find this is me room, an’ now I’m bettin’ I’ll have to get someone to bring up clean sheets.”
Cicilia blushed, but there was no censure in Catherine’s tone. In fact, the older woman simply seemed amused. Perhaps even pleased.
“Aye, well, ye did lock us in here,” Alexander told her, folding his arms.
Catherine chuckled. “That was Nathair, nae me, but I’ve got to admit it was a stroke o’ genius. An’ it worked, did it nae? Ye’re friends again?”
“Where is Nathair?” Alexander asked, folding his arms and looking annoyed.
“An’ Jeanie?” Cicilia added.
“They went off back to the Castle,” Catherine said with a shrug. “An’ took Iain wi’ them to feed him there or somethin’. I said I’d rather wait on the two o’ ye.”
Cicilia couldn’t help but smile in response to the happy look on Catherine’s face. There was something bright and infectious about the woman. Where her brother was like the moon, a solemn light shining in the darkness, Catherine reminded Cicilia of a bright sun.
Alexander cleared his throat. “Well, we should be getting’ back, too. Ye can p
ay up yer balance to the tavern keep; o’ course ye’ll be stayin’ in the Castle. Cicilia’s got yer old room, but I’m sure—”
“I’m sure she will nae be usin’ it,” Catherine said pointedly, glancing at the messy bed behind them. “An’ dinnae worry, I’ve got a lady’s maid with me. She was out at the market when ye arrived, but she came back and brought the bairns up to the castle wi’ yer friends.”
Alexander seemed to perk up, and Cicilia saw rare open happiness on his face. “Ye brought the bairns?” he asked.
“O’ course,” Catherine replied. “Alice is near three-and ten, so she’s travellin’ wi’ me most places. An’ Matthew refused to be left behind, an’ ye ken his faither cannae say nay to the next Laird.”
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