A stricken expression filled his face as she felt his seed spilling within her. She waited for him to finish and to withdraw, but he held himself still and simply stared at her as though waiting for something from her.
“My lord?” she asked again. “What have I done wrong?”
This attention unnerved her and she felt exposed before him. Usually, the man saw to his pleasure, finished and left before she had to do anything. This was so different.
Finally he lifted himself off her and stood next to the bed, pulling his breeches back around his waist and shoving his tunic over them. Elizabeth pushed her own skirts down over her legs and slid back against the headboard of the bed. Now he would not meet her gaze. He brushed his hair from his eyes and ran his hand through it, confusion clear on his face and in the frown on his brow. He looked around the room as though he had lost something. Then he looked directly at her and the pain in his eyes pierced her.
“Do not leave,” he ordered even as he grabbed a long cloak from a peg on the wall near the door. His harshness was unlike anything else that had been spoken by him before and it scared her. Then he tugged open the door and, as it slammed behind him, he was gone.
For the first time since the early days of making her own way in the world, Elizabeth felt used…soiled. The calm acceptance of her situation that she had struggled to attain shattered around her and she did not know how to piece it back together.
His head pounded as he climbed the stairs that led to the roof of the keep. Gavin knew only that he needed to get away from the scene of his crime and consider how to go on from here. All his plans to entice and seduce had turned on him and in an instant when she offered herself so calmly to him, all he could think of was claiming her and taking that resolved expression from her eyes.
He reached the fourth floor and pushed through the door leading into the frigid wind that buffeted the top of Silloth Keep. The storm that had raged for days around them, forcing them to live inside, now began to abate. Still, the cloak he’d thrown around his shoulders was pulled and twisted as he moved from the doorway. The lone guard assigned to this location nodded at him from the small stone enclosure and he walked on into the dark and cold.
Making his way to the edge of the wall, Gavin peered into the darkness and tried to understand what had just happened. Never, never in his memory had he lost control of himself as he had with Elizabeth. Something in her air of resignation challenged him and for a moment he was determined to make it different for her. He would not be like the others who lay with her and took of her. He would not pay for her favors. He would make her want him and want to…
The stupidity of his thoughts shocked him. She had ceased to be a person to him and had become only a means to an end. Orrick’s quest had become his own and he used any means, even her, to succeed in it. And he had become just one more man in her bed.
He pushed his hair back from his face and gathered it in a leather thong he kept in his cloak. He walked a few paces and rubbed his eyes, trying to see into the darkness around him. The winds swirled and he let them beat against him. It was nothing compared to the chaos of feelings within him.
He closed his eyes and saw in his thoughts the moment he realized what he was doing. They were already on the bed and he had filled her to her core. Ignoring the reality of her reaction, he had plunged in and was nearing his peak when he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. She lay beneath him, unmoving, taking everything he gave and never responding. Oh, her woman’s flesh was soft and wet as he moved within her, but she was not feeling him. She was not feeling anything at all. He thought her unconscious when she did not open her eyes at her name.
But it was far worse when she did look at him with cold, unseeing eyes. Her vacant stare forced him to think and to realize what he was doing. He was taking her. He was with a woman who was not even aware of what was happening between them. A woman who lay as one dead beneath him.
The shudder that tore through him had nothing to do with the bitter cold around him. It was about the coldness within him for his mindless tupping of a woman who had no choice in it. That was something that he had never done—not even from his earliest experiences with lust and the sins of the flesh.
Under his breath, he cursed his lapse in control and judgment, and wondered how it had happened at all and how he could correct this. The crunching steps signaling the approach of the guard drew his attention.
“My lord, Lady Margaret awaits you within and requests that you join her.”
With a nod, he followed the man back across the roof to the doorway and pulled the door open. Orrick’s wife stood just inside and stepped aside to allow him to enter. She said nothing but turned down the hallway and made her way to a small alcove. He pulled off his wet cloak and threw it over his shoulder.
“There is some trouble, my lord?” Margaret’s words carried the soft accent of her youth.
“None that I know of, lady.”
Her focus sharpened and she tilted her head, examining him closely. “My lord husband told me of your special arrangements for the evening and of the task he set for you regarding the young wh…woman Elizabeth. Now, you slam out of your chambers and stalk to the roof. Something is not right?”
Damn! Orrick should have kept this between them. Women had a strange way of looking at some things and the lady of the keep was not one to be told of arrangements between men.
“Worry not, my lady. All is well.” He was not about to explain what had happened in his chambers. He shifted on his feet and prepared to end the conversation when her words shocked him.
“Will she need the services of our healer, my lord?”
Margaret thought he had hurt Elizabeth. The insult of it lashed him to his soul. He had not treated her well, but she had not been harmed. He had never taken a woman in anger. Never.
“Margaret! You know me better than that. How can you ask such a thing?” But a niggling of guilt slid through him. Her words confirmed it.
“My lord, I have heard how well you treated your wife, but whores are a different matter, are they not?”
He met her steely regard and knew she spoke of many things in her own past. He knew the story of how Margaret moved from being the king’s whore to being Orrick’s wife. This was far too personal to continue.
“I assure you that Elizabeth is well, lady. And now that I am done my walk, I will seek my chambers for the night.” He nodded a bow to her and began to turn when he realized that he had a question for her. “Do you worry about Orrick’s attention to her?”
Margaret smiled and lowered her gaze for a moment. “You mean that he seeks her company or favors?” He nodded. “Nay, my lord. You see I know that, by his very nature, Orrick draws strays and wounded creatures to him. He gives them sanctuary while they mend and then they are loyal to him forever.”
“You think that Elizabeth is one of these strays?”
“Just so, my lord. As are we all.”
Then, with a nod of her own, Lady Margaret moved past him and left him standing in the corridor. Gavin heard her words and realized the truth in them, but his thoughts turned to the woman he’d left behind in his room.
Chapter Four
The door opened quietly and she would have missed it had she not been watching for it. He entered like someone not sure of what he would find inside. And since she was not certain of how he would react, she knew the feeling well. He looked around the room until he found her, sitting in the far corner, away from the food and the bed—the two temptations of the evening. Well, two of three if the truth be told, for he was as tempting to her as the others had been.
“Lass,” he said as he pulled the chair away from the table and turned it. Straddling it backward, he faced her. “Did I hurt you?”
She sat up straighter on the stool and gathered the blanket around her shoulders. His words were soft and she could feel his concern for her well-being in them. Why did he do this to her? What was it about him that was so diffe
rent from the others? And why did part of her yearn for the difference he offered?
“I am well, my lord. I waited as you ordered.” Elizabeth watched him as he searched for words. Something had not gone correctly in their joining and he struggled with it, she could see. Unfortunately, she knew not what it was and so could offer him no help.
“I lied to you, Elizabeth.” He shifted on his chair and looked away from her. Glancing at the table still laden with uneaten foods, he continued, “I did arrange this to entice you here, but I had no intention of…of…bedding you this night.”
She did not know what to make of his words. “My lord, I confess that I am confused. You know I am a whore and you invited me to your chambers. For what other purpose than your desire to have a woman would you ask me here?”
“For your company. To share a meal and some conversation.”
No man had wanted her company since her husband in the early years of their marriage when he still kept up the pretense of interest. After that, he still desired her body, but only in an attempt to gain an heir. Gavin MacLeod made no sense. Then, she thought she understood what had happened.
“You are married, my lord?”
“Married?” He looked startled at her question.
“Aye, married and feeling some sense of guilt for lying with me? Did you make some vow to your wife that you believe broken by what we did?”
That stricken look was back in his eyes again and Elizabeth knew she had the right of it. That he was so upset at breaking a vow to his wife touched her somehow. ’Twas a good thing to know that some men actually believed in keeping their marriage vows and that he considered his lying with her, a whore, a violation of that vow. Most men did not.
“My wife is dead these last three years, lass. And lest you think differently, I never broke my promise of fidelity to her during our twenty years of marriage.”
“I meant no insult to your honor or to her memory, my lord. ’Tis just that most men believe that lying with a whore does not mean anything to any vow they’ve taken.”
His brow furrowed with a deep frown and she wondered what was wrong. He was a curious man, unlike any other she’d known. His explanation proved her right in that assessment.
“Hold now, lass. Let me begin again. When Orrick pointed you out in the hall…” He paused and cursed under his breath. “When you helped me with my bath last evening, you seemed tired. I thought mayhap you would enjoy a few hours of leisure and a good meal. Since I wanted some simple companionship, this meal seemed like the way to accomplish something for both of us.”
He stood then and moved his chair back near the table. Then he poked around the dishes there until he found something he was looking for and turned to her.
“There is still the cook’s wondrous spiced cake to eat. From past years, I know we’ll not see the likes of it again until he produces the mince pies for Twelfth Night. If you stay, I promise that I expect nothing more than conversation from you…and help in finishing the cake.” He held out his hand to her and she knew he was offering her some apology for bedding her.
Elizabeth stood and accepted his offer, and something changed within her at that moment. Some lightening of her spirit for the first time in a very, very long time. The urge to smile won out and she felt one spread over her face. His eyes were alight with a mischievous look that promised an unforgettable meal, at the least.
Gavin felt his heart fill with hope when she smiled and stood, taking the hand he offered her and joining him at the table again. Torn now between fulfilling Orrick’s request and learning more about her for some need of his own, he decided to simply let the rest of the evening happen. He was certain she would talk of personal things, of her family or her upbringing, so he could discover the information that Orrick sought.
He watched as she cleared away some of their uneaten food and moved the platters on the table aside. Once he took his seat, she served them, cutting slices of the cake he mentioned and placing it before him. Before she sat, she poured cider into two metal mugs and carried them over to the hearth. Lifting the poker from the side of the flames, she dipped it into each mug, heating the cider and releasing the fragrant aroma of apples into the air. Finally, although he knew but a few minutes had passed by, they were sitting at the table enjoying the cook’s work.
“Tell me of your wife.”
“My wife?” he asked, startled by her direct question.
“Aye, my lord. You mentioned that she passed away three years ago. Did she visit Lord Orrick’s holding with you?”
He drank of the cider and smiled as he thought of Nessa. “Nay, she did not travel this far with me.”
“Where did she travel with you?” Elizabeth maintained an even expression, nothing but honest curiosity there in her eyes. It could not hurt to talk of it, of her.
“Her family was a clan distant from mine and we traveled back to her home from time to time. Less after the children were born.”
“You have children?” Her voice hinted of envy.
“I, we, have three, now all grown with bairns of their own. A daughter and two sons.” Could it be this easy? “And you? Have you any bairns?”
She paled a bit at his question and shook her head rather than speaking the words. He watched as she lifted her mug to her mouth and drank deeply from it, all the time averting her eyes. The issue of children caused her some amount of pain and she tried to avoid it. Fine.
“Where…” she began, and paused when the trembling in her voice was so apparent. “Where is your village, my lord? I know only that you hail from the Highlands.”
“My village is on the west coast of Scotland, about five days’ ride north of the Firth.”
“Is it a large place?” She broke off a piece of the cake and his gaze followed her hand as it moved to her mouth. His own mouth went dry when he saw the tip of her tongue reach out to claim the morsel. He swallowed before being able to reply.
“The entire holding is larger than Orrick’s lands, but that includes all the lands held in the name of our clan. My nephew, the earl, is chief of the clan.”
He thought he heard some measure of bitterness in his voice, but he did not begrudge his nephew the position he held. He supported the elders’ decision to name Alaisdair as chief and laird of the clan. Hell, he was one of the elders who had voted for Alaisdair’s claim.
“I apologize, my lord, for I cannot remember all the lessons taught by my grandmam. If your nephew rules the clan, what do you do?”
Nothing.
The word echoed through his thoughts, but he kept it within him. That was the root of his time spent here in England. Long the strongest warrior of the clan, Gavin knew he had been replaced by those younger and stronger, including his own sons. Now he served as one of the council of elders. That word was bitter on his tongue. Better to say the truth—he was unneeded.
He looked across and realized she was waiting for an answer, one that he did not want to say. Could not say without a further explanation he was unwilling to give. He would use her tactic.
“What did your grandmam say that you do remember?”
She looked away for a moment and then smiled. He was beginning to enjoy the light in her eyes when she allowed a smile to grace her features.
“She often spoke of ‘First Footing’? Or am I saying that wrong? She had the Gaelic and her accent was so strong that I know I am mistaken in how I remember some of the words.”
He laughed out then, enchanted by the way she named his language. “You have it right, lass. On the first night, it is the custom that foretells your luck in the coming year.”
“Tell me more, for I remember not the details of it.”
He leaned back in the chair and finished his cider. “The age and coloring of the person who takes the first step through your doorway when midnight has passed and the gifts they bring determine how lucky and how prosperous your household will be for the next year. Many will offer coin or rewards to make certain that the ‘best’ pers
on takes that first step.”
“And the best to enter first?” she asked.
“Tall, dark-haired men, young and strong enough to protect those inside from those would attack and pillage.”
“My lord, who would attack your village?”
“Most likely be another Scots clan on the attack, since the Vikings keep to their isles off the coast. But the custom began long ago when they would still rampage on the mainland.”
“I think my grandparents met through First Footing. He had dark hair in his youth, she said. But the memories are so hazy and long forgotten, I cannot be certain.”
Their eyes met for a brief second and he was nearly knocked over by the desire for her that pulsed through him. He wanted her. And he wanted her to know it was him when he filled her. He grew hard as his body understood the feeling within him. Wanting. Needing. Hunger.
She flinched. He did not believe she even knew she had done so, but he saw it and recognized that it was a reaction to him and to the lust he knew showed on his face.
Gavin stood and she sat unmoving, as though waiting to see what his intentions were. He had no doubt that if he picked her up and dragged her to the bed again, she would allow it. Or if he ordered her to take off her clothes and get into the bed on her own volition, she would do that, too. Although his body urged him to that taking, he controlled himself, not wanting to lose the meager ground he had gained since he’d used her badly earlier.
“Will you stay the night, lass?” he asked, both hoping and fearing her answer.
She blinked several times and looked at the bed before answering. “Is it your wish, my lord?” He could see her losing color and becoming empty even as she asked.
“Elizabeth, I erred when I took you without thought. I promise it will not happen again between us.” Surprise, fear, resignation and puzzlement filled her eyes as she took in his words. He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Stay or go, it is your decision.”
She stood and stepped away from the table. “Will you have me punished if I choose to leave?” Fear overtook the other emotions clear in her expression. She had moved just out of his reach with the steps she took toward the door. A defensive move.
The Christmas Visit: Comfort and JoyLove at First StepA Christmas Secret Page 12
