As chieftain, Rory’s marriage choice would have far greater consequences than it would as a chief’s younger half-brother. His marriage must be a carefully chosen alliance for the benefit of his clan. While she was confident he would protect her as his guest, he could no longer offer her the choice of marriage. He would put his duty to his clan first, as he ought.
Rory would be grateful to her for understanding why he must destroy their marriage contract—and she would never have to hurt his pride by telling him that her brothers had made a fool of him.
“If Rory is to claim his rightful place—and keep it,” Malcolm said, drawing Sybil from her own thoughts, “he must outwit a sly and ruthless opponent who has succeeded in deceiving most of the clan for years.”
While there were a great many things Sybil needed to learn about surviving in the Highlands, she was well-versed in the games men played for power. She had observed them from a close vantage all her life.
She thought she left all that behind when she escaped with a wild Highland warrior. Her warrior, however, turned out to be a chieftain. Or he soon would be. After Rory had done so much for her, there was finally something she could do for him. She could help him win this power struggle with his uncle, if he would let her.
She had tried so hard to save her brother from the miscalculations that led to his downfall, but he would never listen to her. She shook off the bitter memory. No matter, she was determined to help Rory outwit his uncle. She would learn all she could about the players in this new game and be ready.
What he needed now, however, was the comfort of a friend, so she left the older couple and went outside. She found Rory sitting on a log overlooking the stream that ran by the cottage. She went to stand behind him.
“I’m here,” she said, and draped her arms around his neck.
He clasped her hand where it rested across his chest. They remained silent for a time, watching the water ripple over the rocks in the river.
“We have to leave,” Rory said. “With luck, we’ll have at least a couple of days before Hector learns of Brian’s death.”
“Where will we go?” Sybil asked.
“To Castle Leod in Eastern Ross.”
“Malcolm said that’s where you’d go,” Sybil said. “Why there?”
“My father built Castle Leod on the base of an ancient fort and made it the home of the MacKenzie chieftains.” Rory paused. “That’s where the clan will choose our next chieftain.”
“Then you’ve decided to do it? To become the MacKenzie?”
“There’s no one else who can stop Hector,” he said. “A chieftain must have chieftain’s blood. My younger brother is a priest, so that leaves only me and Hector.”
“Are ye certain ye want this?” A sudden fear for him seized her heart. “There’s always a price to be paid. My brother tried to rule all of Scotland, and now he’s living in exile.”
“I never wanted this,” Rory said. “I admit I was frustrated with my brother at times, but I only ever wanted to help him be a better chieftain.”
“All the same, you’ll fight your uncle for the chieftainship?”
“Hector is attacking our neighboring clans and turning our allies against us,” Rory said. “That is a dangerous path that will anger the crown and weaken our clan against our greatest enemy, the MacDonalds. I cannot let that happen.”
Hector did not sound so very different from her brother Archie, who fought a bloody battle in the streets of Edinburgh to gain power and instead caused the downfall of his family and clan.
When they returned to the cottage, Malcolm and his wife were waiting outside for them.
“Ye must set aside your grief, son,” Malcolm said. “The clan needs ye, and we need ye now.”
“I will do my duty.” Rory gripped Malcolm’s shoulder. “I swear to you on the blood of my father and brother that I will defeat Hector and take my place as the MacKenzie.”
“I know ye will succeed,” Malcolm said. “You’ll need as many clansmen at Castle Leod to support ye as we can muster. I’ll send my sons and grandsons to spread the word among those we can trust.”
“When the time is right, we’ll need them to light the fires to call the clan to the gathering at Castle Leod,” Rory said. “Meet me at Killin at…”
Sybil wanted to listen to the rest of their plan, but Malcolm’s wife took her arm and pulled her inside the cottage.
“Many will say that you’re a poor choice for Rory’s wife, being a Lowlander,” Grizel said.
Sybil already knew that too well. If the woman was going to lecture her, she wished she’d be quick.
“But I disagree,” Grizel said. “Hector consorts with demons. To fight him, Rory could use a lass at his side who has the protection of the faeries.”
“The faeries?” Sybil raised her eyebrows. When Grizel pointed at Sybil’s throat, her hand went to the pendant her mother had given her.
“That stone holds powerful magic,” Grizel said. “Never take it off.”
Sybil ran her thumb over the smooth, polished surface. Malcolm’s wife made her nervous.
“Your heart is burdened with lies,” Grizel said, which made Sybil almost jump out of her skin. “But I believe ye mean to help our Rory.”
“I do want to help him.” Sybil could barely get out the words.
“Aye,” the old woman said, nodding to herself. “When ye look at him, the air around ye turns a shimmering blue.”
Sybil stifled the urge to make the sign of the cross for fear of insulting the older woman. Before she could ask what the blue glow meant, Grizel thrust a cloth bag that smelled of fish into her hands.
“For your supper,” the older woman said. “Now, don’t keep your man waiting.”
“Thank you and God bless,” Sybil said.
Rory was already mounted when she went outside, and he pulled her up behind him.
“We’ll meet at Killin,” Rory said.
“Until then, keep your sword sharp, ceann-cinnidh,” chieftain, Malcolm called out and raised his fist as they rode off.
CHAPTER 17
Sybil’s heart ached for Rory. Sensing he did not wish to speak, she simply rested her head against his back and held him close as they rode in silence.
When it grew too dark to ride, they made camp in the shelter of a large boulder near the winding river that ran through the valley. Sybil’s frozen feet prickled as the heat from their small fire seeped through her boots while they ate the supper of smoked kippers and oatcakes that Malcolm’s wife had packed for them.
Sybil drew her cloak up to her chin against the wind and watched the night clouds blowing across the moon. Rory put his arm around her and wrapped the extra blanket around them both.
The misery in his hollow eyes made her stomach hurt. Was it only this morning that he had been so happy and proud at the prospect of showing her Eilean Donan?
“I’m sorry we’re living rough again tonight,” he said.
“I don’t mind,” she said. “’Tis hardly raining and blowing at all, so I’d call this a bonny night to sleep outdoors.”
Rory lifted a tendril of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “I promised ye a hot bath and servants to wait on ye.”
“With so much weighing on your shoulders, ye shouldn’t trouble yourself over my lack of a hot bath.” She tilted her head. “Or do I smell that bad?”
Her effort to cheer him was rewarded with a brief smile, but his eyes soon clouded again. She leaned her head against his shoulder and wished she knew how to comfort him.
“I can’t understand why Brian took the risk of leaving the protection of MacKenzie lands to travel to Edinburgh,” Rory said. “It was not in his nature to act rashly.”
“Then he must have had a good reason,” Sybil said.
“I need to know what that reason was.” Rory clenched his fist. “Brian died because of it.”
“Didn’t Malcolm say Brian went to see your sister before he left for Edinburgh?” she said. “Perhaps
he told her.”
“Perhaps,” Rory said. “In any case, I must see Catriona and break this sad news to her. She lives at Killin, the property I inherited from my mother. It’s just a few miles from Castle Leod.”
“We have a plan now.” Sybil brushed Rory’s hair back from his forehead with her fingers. “There’s nothing more ye can do tonight. Try to save your worries for tomorrow.”
When Rory turned and their gazes locked, the raw need in his eyes made her breath catch. Men had wanted her before, but not like this. The strength of his hunger was a bit frightening—and all the more thrilling for it.
Before she could make her mind work and figure out what she wanted to do about it, he broke their gaze and stood.
“’Tis been a long day,” he said. “Ye should get your rest.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not ready to sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep yet either,” she said, and clasped his hand before he could walk away.
Sybil had made up her mind. She was not going to argue with herself about it anymore. Rory needed her, and tonight she wanted to be whatever he needed.
“Lie with me,” she said.
“I don’t know if I can sleep beside ye tonight and not touch ye like I want to,” he said in a strained voice. “I need ye too much.”
“I know that,” she said, and flipped back the blanket for him to lie down.
His eyes flared with heat, but he remained standing over her, his stance rigid. “You’re certain that ye want this? That ye want me?”
Her life was in turmoil, changing every day. She and Rory could have died today, and they could die tomorrow. No matter what the future held, she wanted this night with him.
The men at court had seen her as a prize to be won, a beauty with a large dowry and powerful family. But Rory saw her for who she really was, stripped of her dowry and jewels and position. He wanted her.
Even if it was only for one night, she wanted to be made love to by a man she trusted, a man who understood her. Better that she have that once in her life than not at all.
“Aye,” she said. “I’m certain.”
Rory dropped to his knees. Gripping his fingers in her hair, he kissed her fiercely. His mouth was hot and demanding, and his tongue thrust into her mouth in a sensual assault that sent her reeling. He kissed her with unchecked passion, holding nothing back.
Though she had not known it before, this was precisely what she wanted from him. Nay, what she needed. Throwing all caution to the wind, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down onto the blanket.
With a need on the edge of desperation, they tugged at each other’s clothes until, at last, they were skin to skin. The sensation of his hard-muscled body against hers made her moan into his mouth. When he pressed his full erection against her, she had to break their kiss to gasp for breath.
She felt drunk on the pleasure of touching and being touched. She ran her hands over his rock-hard body, wanting to claim every inch of him for her own. Never had she expected it would feel this good.
He held on to her, fingers bruising, as if she was his anchor in their storm of passion. All the while, he covered her face and throat with endless kisses that stole away every sense of caution and made her forget where she was and even who she was.
In the far recesses of her mind, a fleeting thought tried to catch her attention. Something important she was supposed to remember. She struggled to recall what it was while his lips and tongue moved down between her breasts.
Lord above! The moist heat of his mouth was on her breast, pulling sensations all the way from her toes and emptying every thought from her head, except that she never wanted him to stop.
***
All day, Rory’s grief had been a blade that cut deep and flailed him by turns with sorrow, guilt, and rage. His emotions were raw, and his need for Sybil was so intense it shook him to his soul. He wanted to lose himself in the smell of her skin, the taste of her lips, the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest, and the silky weight of her midnight hair cascading over his arm.
Praise God Sybil had finally made up her mind to have him.
He ought to tell her how beautiful she was, that he had wanted her from the start, that he would cherish her forever. But he could not speak, could not begin to find words for the feelings raging inside him.
He splayed his fingers in her hair and covered her face with kisses—her cheeks, her eyelids, the side of her mouth, the sensitive place below her ear.
“A chisle mo chroí,” pulse of my heart, he murmured against her skin as he ran his lips along the side of her throat.
He always knew she would be passionate in bed, but she was everything he had hoped for and more. When he suckled her breasts, her sighs and moans drove him to near madness. He squeezed his eyes shut and told himself he must slow down and be gentle this first time. But he wanted her so much.
“Oh, lass,” he gasped as she ran her hand up his cock, “you’ll kill me for certain.”
Sybil’s bold sensuality, like oil on an already burning fire, sent his desire into shooting flames. His bride was making it damned difficult to remember she was a virgin.
***
Sybil sensed she had driven him to the edge of control and felt a thrill of feminine power. She wanted him over the edge, to feel his passion full force and without restraint. Her own desire grew with his as she stroked her hand up and down his engorged shaft, and she swallowed when she felt the wetness on the tip.
He groaned and removed her hand, then pulled her hard against him. They rolled together, their mouths devouring each other while her hair fell in a curtain around them. Sybil was mindless, lost in deep, wet kisses, as they rolled again.
When he broke the kiss, she was on her back, and his hand was between her legs.
She was only vaguely aware of calling out to the saints and the fairies as he worked his magic with his fingers. When he began circling and flicking her nipple with his tongue as well, she thought she would go blind with pleasure.
“Mo rùin,” he said in a harsh whisper, “you’re so hot and wet.”
Then he suckled her breast, and it was too much. The tension in her body grew until she felt as if she would shatter. She bit his shoulder.
“Please!” she said, not even knowing what she wanted.
In one smooth motion, he covered her with his body. Her breath caught when she felt his shaft press between her legs. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful. And yet she wanted more.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, needing him closer still.
“Oh, God,” he said in gasps between hot, wet kisses. “I’ll die if I can’t have ye.”
He gripped her hip, kneading, demanding, while he thrust his tongue into her mouth with a rhythm her body understood. She sank her nails into his shoulders as she kissed him back with the same fierce need.
“Are ye ready?” he asked in ragged whisper.
“Aye.” Whatever he wanted, she wanted too. And she wanted it now.
“There’s no turning back if we do this.” His short, harsh breaths were warm on her face as he paused to look into her eyes. “Ye want this?”
“Aye, more than anything!” she said. “Please, Rory.”
He made a strangled, animal-like sound and kissed her in earnest again. Through the desire fogging her mind, that niggling thought tried to surface again, but it was beyond her reach.
“Oh!” she gasped as he eased the tip of his shaft inside her. All her senses, every fiber of her being, was focused on that part of him that was just inside her.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt ye.”
The tension inside her was unbearable. Instinctively, she lifted her hips.
“Oh my!” she cried out as he slid inside her and pushed the air from her lungs. She pulled him down into a deep kiss.
He broke the kiss, rose up on his arms, and plunged into her to the hilt. Hi
s brief attempt at gentleness was gone, thank goodness. He was all hunger and need. And an edge of something else.
“That feels…so…so…ah…ah.” She lost the ability to form words as he thrust into her again and again.
Powerful sensations built inside her, and she clung to him, needing more still from him. She felt like a frayed rope pulled to the point of breaking. Her release came in pulsing, frenzied rapture. The intensity of it battered her, making her cry out as he called her name and surged inside her.
Rory rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Their breathing seemed loud against the soft night sounds. She lay depleted and utterly amazed that something so wonderful could ever happen between two people.
When she had the strength to lift her arm, she ran her hand over his chest, exploring the hard muscles with her fingertips and enjoying the sensation of the coarse hair against her palm.
“Don’t ye think ye have something to explain to me?” Rory said in a flat tone that startled her.
How could he sound so cold when their bodies had just been joined in such magical passion? What on earth had she done to offend him?
“Explain what?” She felt herself flush. “Was I too loud?”
“Ye know damned well that is no what I’m asking about.”
She tried to think what she could have done to upset him, but her mind was still sluggish.
“How is it, my sweet bride,” he said between his teeth, “that you’re not a virgin?”
The realization struck her with the force of a blow. God help her, she had forgotten to pretend. It should have been so easy. There was no white linen that would fail to show bloodstains. All she had to do was make a show of crying out in pain at the right moment.
She had lost herself to such unexpected passion that she utterly forgot to make the pretense. When he thrust inside her, she cried out in ecstasy instead of pain.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could muster.
“Sorry is not nearly enough,” he said. “I need an explanation.”
This was exactly why she should have pretended to be a virgin. The reason for her lack of virginity was not something she wished to discuss or remember. Once it was over, she’d put what happened firmly behind her and refused to let it ruin one more day of her life.
CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) Page 12
