Rage bubbled up inside Finn and he breathed heavily through his nostrils. The gall of the man. Looking him straight in the eyes and calmly declaring he’d bedded his sister! Before he realised what he’d done, he brought a fist across Logan’s face.
The man staggered back, eyes wide. When he didn’t fall, it only incensed Finn more. Why did he not even show the slightest bit of shame? He had thought Logan honourable. Hell, he’d trusted him with his sister.
Leaping forward, Finn used his weight to push Logan to the ground. Instead of fighting him, Logan held up his fists in defence and tried to shove him off. Finn was too heavy and used the chance to punch his undefended ribs. The brown haired man expelled a gagging cough and Finn repeated the movement. Blood trickled from Logan’s nose.
With a sudden show of strength, Logan used his feet to propel Finn away. It took Finn by surprise and he ended up pinned underneath the man. The wine must have dulled his senses as, though Logan was a strong man, no one could defeat Finn in a fair fight. He stared up at Logan while the man kept him restrained with an arm across his neck. He braced himself for a hit, but none came.
“I dinnae blame ye for yer anger.” Logan drew in a ragged breath. “But ‘tis misplaced. Ye should know better than anyone I wouldnae harm yer sister.”
Finn narrowed his eyes and shoved Logan away. Logan allowed him to clamber to his feet and eyed him warily.
“If ye want to look after her, ye willnae bed her again.”
“I make no promises.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest.
With a roar, Finn ran for Logan again but a blinding pain struck him across the mouth and he realised he’d run into a fist. He reeled back, a hand to his now bloody lip.
“I love her,” Logan said quietly as Finn tried to blink away the painful haze the punch had left him with. “I fear ‘twill come to naught but I willnae make a promise I dinnae intend to keep. If I can persuade Lorna she loves me too then any promise would be for naught.”
Finn let his shoulders drop. Ach, he was a fool. He should have known Logan would have honourable intentions. The man admired his sister more than anyone. Of course he loved her. Anyone could see that. Apart from him apparently. When exactly did he become the fool? If anyone had dishonourable intentions it was him. But no longer. Nay, he was determined to be as chivalrous as Logan.
“I wish ye luck....”
“What are ye doing, ye great fools?” A feminine voice cut him off and he saw Katelyn stood at the top of the steps to the kitchens.
Logan held up his hands. “Dinnae worry, my lady, all is settled now, is it not?” He looked at Finn for confirmation.
“Aye, all is settled.”
With a nod, Logan retreated into the hall. Finn pitied him really. Finn knew no one more stubborn than his sister. He’d have a hard time convincing her of his love.
The word lingering in this mind—love—he faced Katelyn. Hands on her hips, chin set into a determined thrust, he braced himself for a scolding.
“What were ye doing? Have ye been fighting? One of the maids ran down and said Logan had ye pinned to the ground.” She sniffed as she approached. “Have ye been drinking?”
Finn grimaced. “Aye, just a wee drop.”
She froze and her gaze lingered on his mouth. Cursing inwardly, he put his hand to his lip. No doubt the sight of blood summoned many horrific memories. Hell, the sight of him acting like a barbarian did not likely help either.
Shoulders straight, she reached for his hand and drew it away. The tiniest flicker of uncertainty dashed across her face and he heard her suck in a breath. She touched his lip and he held back a wince.
“Let’s clean this up,” she ordered and snatched his hand.
Her small, cool fingers in his sent a tremor up his arm and he gulped. She dragged him down the stairs to the kitchen. It was empty save for one maid who excused herself upon seeing them. A few candles flickered on the side tables but everything had been cleared away for the night, apart from a pestle and mortar and a few leaves. Bunches of herbs hung from a metal rack above the table, scenting the air.
“What were ye doing in here, lass?”
Katelyn grinned and held up a pot. “Preparing a yarrow root salve.” She motioned to a stool and made him sit. Her smile dropped as she scooped some out with her finger and shuffled closer. “’Tis for scratches and… and bruises.”
The foggy haze from the wine dissipated a little and he furrowed his brow. “Ye have need of it?”
“I…” She licked her lips. “’Tis naught. Just a few wee scratches. It happens when I… ye know….”
“When ye have those dreams?”
“Aye.”
“Ye still suffer?”
“Sometimes. Though not as badly as before.” Katelyn’s mesmerising gaze latched onto his for the merest instant before dropping to his lips. “’Tis no matter.” She dabbed a dollop of the salve on his lips and its sweet fragrance teased him.
“It does matter, Katie.” He tried to focus on her face and not on the hint of rounded breasts that sat in his eye line, still encased in that deep purple. The balm stung but Katelyn’s beautiful figure made him forget it. He dragged his gaze up. “I dinnae like the thought of ye coming to harm.”
“Ach, a few scratches and bruises… ‘tis nothing to be concerned about.”
She drew her hand away from his lip and hooked a finger under his chin to inspect the damage. “Why were ye fighting, Finn?”
“Because I am a fool,” he offered with a tilted grin.
“Yer no fool.” Katelyn dropped her hand and backed away. “But ye are drunk. What did Logan do to anger ye?”
“He loves my sister.”
“And why does that anger ye?”
Finn laughed. “I told ye, I am a fool. I was a fool with ye and a fool with Logan.”
“Why were ye a fool with me?”
Curses, this would not do. He stood abruptly, making her stumble and he hooked an arm around her waist to prevent her from falling. She was soft and giving in his arms, even with plenty of space between them.
“Ye make it hard for me to be an honourable man,” he murmured.
He saw her throat work when she gulped and her hands slid up his arms. “Ye dinnae need to be honourable, Finn. I dinnae ask anything of ye. Ye…ye make me feel safe. Ye scared away the demons somehow. I think yer a very special man.”
“I cannae dishonour ye.” His voice came out tight while she continued to work her hands up and down his arms. His skin tingled wherever she touched.
Something clouded her eyes. Uncertainty mayhap? Fear? By God, he did not want her scared. He tugged her near, remembering how his body seemed to soothe her. The look—that haunted, troubled one—dissolved, leaving expectant breaths and eyes that darkened with need. Katelyn lifted her chin and clutched his neck, pressing her hands underneath his hair. He used his free hand to clasp her close, splaying it over the curve of her rear.
They shared several breaths as she raised herself up and he savoured them. When was the last time he’d enjoyed simply holding a woman. He couldn’t remember. With Alice mayhap? Nay, not even then. Before he could think further, he closed the gap and his body came instantly alive at the feeling of velvety lips beneath his.
Katelyn trembled in his arms and parted her lips allowing access. And though he’d intended to take it slow—ach, he’d not intended to kiss her at all—her taste drove the very sense from him. One touch of her tongue and he took everything she could give. Each thrust of her tongue, each sigh and desperate touch made him hunger for her. But he could not take her.
To give her pleasure though… surely that was not such a dishonourable act?
He bunched her skirts in his hand, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her thigh and his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. Finn ached. Unbelievably so. But the agony would be nothing if he could but banish some of Katelyn’s torment. Now was not the time for battle or strong words. At a loss for any other way to combat it, he would
use softer methods. As he kissed her, an intense, mind-numbing kiss, then manoeuvred her toward the table and lifted her. Katelyn kept her hold on his neck, apparently unwilling to release him. Her skirts remained up around her thighs giving him easy access. He broke their kiss for the briefest moment to admire her. Dishevelled hair, glossy eyes, crumpled skirts, unreasonably lush lips… His knees juddered again and he plunged a hand between her legs at the same time as gripping the back of her neck to take her mouth once more.
Heat and dampness greeted his fingers, the scent of arousal pervaded the air. He longed to draw it in, the fragrance of his sweet, sweet Katie, but alas that delicious mouth of hers would not let him. She wriggled against his fingers, begged incoherently for more, her words drowned by the forceful movements of his lips.
Legs shaking, Katelyn rocked into his hand and he circled her folds before plunging two fingers inside her. She cried out against his mouth, the sound gripping his heart. To bring Katelyn pleasure had to be the most rewarding experience of his life. He couldn’t think of a single lover who compared to her. Her open response, her delicious taste and fragrance—none could possibly compare.
Her thighs tensed and she was close. He pressed harder—with determination. Voices filtered down from outside and they both stiffened.
Gillean. And Logan, he assumed.
“Have ye seen Lady Katelyn?”
“Nay, my laird,” Logan replied.
Finn resumed his movements and she released a suppressed cry. Finn pressed his lips to Katelyn’s ear. “Hush.”
“I assumed she was abed but her chamber door is open,” Gillean continued.
“Forgive me, my laird, I havenae seen her. Mayhap she is praying?”
“This late at night?” the laird sneered.
Forcefully, Finn worked in and out of her. He would bring her such pleasure that her worries would be driven from her mind and replaced by memories of what he did to her. Even when she was married to Gillean, she’d remember him. And, by God, would he remember it too. He never wanted to forget the day Katelyn came apart in his arms.
“The kitchens mayhap?” Logan offered.
Heart pounding, he let his lips linger on her cheek as her breaths came in frantic gasps and she dropped her hands to grip at the top of his arms. He retreated further so as to watch it happen. It would take a whole army to prevent him from seeing this. Gillean certainly wouldn’t. Eyes wide, lips parted, she tensed. Her gaze never left his. The lass was braver than she realised. She didn’t hide any of it. He watched the gratification flow through her, clear in her eyes while she pulsed around him. Her legs dropped, she sagged and rested her forehead flat against his chest.
Finn withdrew slowly and fisted his hand, using the other to stroke the back of her neck. Katelyn gathered her breath and finally lifted her head. Her grateful smile made his insides squeeze.
A creak. A footstep. Finn jumped away and helped Katelyn off the table. She hurriedly rearranged her skirts as Gillean ducked into the kitchen, peering about the dim room with a raised brow.
“Lady Katelyn, what are ye doing in here?”
The smell of arousal lingered in the air. Gillean had to smell it. Finn peeked at Katelyn and saw her throat work. Hell fire, had he ruined her chances of marriage? What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t.
“I was tending to Finn,” she said suddenly and smoothly. “As ye can see,” she motioned to his lip, “he has harmed himself.”
Gillean peered at Finn who clenched his jaw. He’d all but forgotten his lip. Nodding, Gillean released a slow smile, one that reminded Finn of a wolf about to pounce on his prey.
“Careless, Finn.” He clicked his tongue and turned to Katelyn. “Ye are a caring lass it seems, but he is a grown man. I am sure he can tend to himself. ‘Tis late. Can I not escort ye to yer chambers?” He offered an arm and Finn clenched the edge of the table to keep from snapping that arm off.
Katelyn remained calm. Though heat still showed in her cheeks and the tiniest bead of perspiration sat in the dip of her neck—and how he longed to lap at it—she appeared serene. He envied her composure. He throbbed with unspent tension and simmering fury. All had been so perfect until Gillean had interrupted.
She nodded and took Gillean’s arm. “I bid ye good night, Finn,” she said over her shoulder. Only he could have caught the flash of sorrow in her dazzling eyes. None knew her like he did.
“Good eve, Katelyn.” By some miracle, he managed to sound formal.
He eyed their progress up the stairs and slumped against the table when they were out of sight, both hands thrust into his hair. What had he done? Her fragrance—lavender and desire even cut through the herby air of the kitchen. Likely, he’d remember it forever. But soon enough Gillean would be the one enjoying it and where would that leave him? He had to push her out of his mind. He had nothing to offer—a distrusting broken man was no better than Laird Gillean. He slammed a fist into the wooden table. He had to conquer this need for her. What other choice did he have?
***
The woman slept silently as Tèile fluttered over her. She studied Katelyn’s relaxed features. Interesting, no need for dreams here. She already dreamed of Finn. Tèile scratched her head. Things had gone so very wrong. None of it was going according to plan and while they were clearly made for one another, too many outside influences had got in the way. Tèile was at a loss as to what to do. The sidhe council would be furious but as much as the council liked to think they knew everything, they never quite understood the workings of the human heart. So often, they went against their fate. It frustrated most faeries but she reckoned she had a better understanding than most. So much time in the mortal realm had taught her much, she thought with a huff.
She settled on the pillow next to Katelyn’s head. It was the first time she’d been able to rest with Katelyn. Normally the woman tossed and turned so much Tèile risked being hit or squashed. But Finn’s attentions had soothed her nightmares. Very interesting.
It was no good. She’d have to do something big. Something that would take some proper magic. She looked forward to dusting off her fingers but the risk was great. Fate could change yet again. Still, she was a green faery. Meddling was what she did. Soon she’d have this wrapped up and she could return and truly celebrate her success.
Her grin expanded when she considered how the council would react. They never really had faith in her matchmaking abilities. If she hadn’t been just a little bit naughty and played a few jokes on some of the council members, they never would have sent her here.
But she’d show them….
Chapter Seven
Stretching, Katelyn sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. She sat up abruptly when she noted the flickers of daylight seeping in through the shutters. Sweet Mary, she’d slept all night. She lifted the blankets and her chemise to study her legs. No bruises or scratches.
A hand to her lips, she felt their puffiness as she recalled the previous evening. All her dreams had been of Finn. The man had practically taken over her thoughts. Without a doubt her good night’s sleep had been down to him.
She sighed and climbed out of bed, padding across the cold wooden floor to the washbowl in front of the windows. Mae must have already been in. Clean garments and water awaited her. Katelyn flung open the shutters, pleased to note the day was fresh but clear skied. The clean scent of a new day and nature greeted her and she drew it in, chest rising with a deep inhale.
Washing quickly, she rubbed herself down with a cloth and wrapped the linen about herself. The dress Mae had placed out for her needed lacing at the back and it would be difficult to do herself. She shrugged. She’d manage though.
Linen clutched around her, she turned her attention to the open window. Several stories up, she had a good view of the surrounding countryside. Grey rocks sprouted from the ground like wild flowers and sheep mingled amongst them.
The men strode about the bailey below and she searched hard for Finn but saw no sign of his
fair head and wide shoulders. Ach, she had so hoped to catch sight of him before running into him again. The previous evening had astounded her. Never before had she felt such a need for a man. Never longed for someone with a craving that made her ache all over. She needed more.
Not that she could have more. Finn was still in love with his wife and hadn’t he declared he would never fall for her? Why did she long for someone who likely only had a passing fancy for her body? Not to mention they’d nearly been caught by Laird Gillean. If he suspected anything, he never said so. Bute’s fate rested on her shoulders and she would do well to remember that. More was at stake than her overwhelming desire for Finn.
“Catriona, ye are wanton,” she told herself. She wasn’t sure when that had happened. When had she become so needy?
She slipped into her chemise and fought with her gown. She managed to do it up though probably not tightly enough. Presumably Mae had not wished to disturb her. The thoughtfulness of the maid made her smile, reminding her of her friends at home. She ran a comb through her hair and used a red ribbon to tie it into a simple braid. Picking up the polished metal mirror, she grimaced. Attractive enough, aye, but not nearly as elegant compared to the previous day. But without Mae’s help she could do no better and she did not need to attract more attention from Gillean.
She shuddered, recalling stony grey eyes and lingering touches—wildly inappropriate even if they were to be married. If her father were here he would never allow such behaviour. Catriona recalled Gillean’s cold lips on her hands and the times he’d managed to touch her, even accidentally grazing her breasts or thighs. She snorted inwardly. No doubt those accidental touches were deliberate. She’d seen that look many times and it was so very far removed from one of genuine desire and… and love?
Shaking the thought of blue eyes that did hold such a look—no matter how much she told herself it meant nothing—she drew up her chin and slid her feet into her dainty silk slippers. Today she needed to find a way to delay the wedding, and maintain her resolve. With a good night’s sleep behind her she felt better able to deal with whatever Gillean threw at her. Mayhap she could also persuade Lorna to send a messenger to Bute or the coast to find out what was happening.
Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) Page 13
