Lana and the Laird

by Sabrina York

  She pushed open the door and peered into the dressing room. A soft glow from the bedroom lit her way. Anticipation churning within her, she slipped through and into Lachlan’s chamber.

  Her heart lifted when she saw him, sitting in the chair by the fire, staring into the flames. It struck her once more how handsome he was. And how dear. And tomorrow, he would be hers. To have and to hold, forever.

  He must have sensed her presence. He stilled and then looked over his shoulder. The flash of relief on his face made clear to her that he wasn’t quite sure who he might see entering his room in the night, and once again fury at his cousin’s betrayal racked her. She forced a smile.

  “Lachlan.”

  “Lana.” He set his drink on the table and rose, crossing to her and folding her into his arms. “You shouldn’t be here. But I am glad you came.”

  “I couldn’t miss this last chance.”

  His brow quirked. “Last chance?”

  “For an illicit tryst.”

  His chuckle warmed her. “I assure you, my darling. There will be many illicit trysts. As many as I can manage.”

  “Ah, but they won’t be so verra illicit, once we are man and wife.”

  “Will you mind so very much? Being a dull married couple?”

  “I willna.”

  “Me either.” He pulled her closer. The glimmer in his eyes bespoke his intent to kiss her. And then he did. He tasted delicious. Of resolve and satisfaction and delight.

  When he pulled back and stared at her, his expression filled with an unbearable vulnerability, she had to say it. She had to tell him how she felt.

  “I do love you, Lachlan Sinclair,” she said.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. Tears glimmered in his eyes. But he said nothing.

  “I love you with all my heart. I love that you are so strong and braw, yet so gentle with children. I love your laugh, your smile, your sense of humor. I love the way you insist on facing your doubts and fears head-on. And I certainly love the fact that you accept me as I am. Oh, and also…” She grinned at him. “I love the way you taste.”

  His lips worked. Her declaration, apparently, had rendered him speechless.

  Thank God he found another way to express his devotion.

  He yanked her into his arms and kissed her with a savagery that stole her breath and, indeed, stole her sanity.

  Without losing his hold on her, he walked her to the bed and eased her onto the mattress. And followed. His hands roved over her, and to her delight she realized he was unfastening her dress. She hurried to catch up with him, tugging at his beautiful plaid and popping off the buttons of his shirt in her frenzy.

  She did not care.

  Neither did he.

  Lifting his head, he strafed her bared skin with a hungry perusal, then caught her gaze and held it. Though he did not say the words, the emotion shining from his eyes was indisputable. “Lana,” he sighed.

  She grinned at him, something saucy and provocative, something bold and brash, and then she raked his chest with her nails.

  His nostrils flared. “Doona,” he growled.

  “Doona what?”

  “Doona taunt me, lass. I want to make gentle love to you. I want to show you—”

  She silenced him with the mere scud of her palm. Down and down. When she encircled him, he issued something feral, a mix between a growl and a moan.

  “Lana—”

  “Lachlan. My braw warrior. How hard you are.” She stroked him, reveling in the twin sensations of velvet over steel.

  “God, Lana.” He closed his eyes and threw back his head and gloried in her touch.

  “I’m ready for you, Lachlan.” She had been. All day. But now, she was on fire for him. She’d unburdened her soul to him and his response had been a savage passion. She was a greedy girl, for she wanted more. She wanted everything.

  She eased her legs apart and set him at her entrance.

  He held her gaze and slipped inside. His cock invaded her, stretched her, filled her completely.

  Glory unfolded in her. Her body rejoiced, wept.

  She wrapped her legs around him and arched up, inviting him to give her what she wanted.

  And he did.

  His mouth was hot on hers as he moved his hips, first slowly in an agonizing drag of friction and then, as she incited him, faster and harder.

  Deep in her core, a familiar, delicious tension coiled and swelled. She held him closer, digging her fingers into his flesh as he worked away, driving her higher, closer to the bliss that awaited her.

  When she didn’t think she could bear the agony any longer, when she thought her heart might pound right out of her chest, when her lungs ached for forgetting to breathe because the delight was so intense, he stopped moving. Just for a second, and deep within, buried in her, hard and full.

  And then he growled. Growled and pulled out, until only the tip remained in her grasp. His pulse thrummed in his cock, through her being.

  “Lana.”

  She looked at him. The light in his eyes transported her.

  “Lachlan—”

  And he drove home, pounding into her with a passion that set her off, tipped her from the precipice to which she had been clinging.

  They tumbled together, plummeting in each other’s arms, a dizzying rush to a rapture that healed all ills and bound them together as one.

  When it was over, when they were exhausted and sated and sheeted in sweat, she curled up in his arms and put her head on his chest, listening to the thud of his heartbeat. She could stay like this forever.

  She was tempted to try.

  It was nearly dawn when she finally stirred. “I should go,” she murmured.

  “Not yet.” His arms tightened. He kissed her brow.

  “It wouldn’t do to fall asleep. Can you imagine the kerfuffle if I am discovered here in the morning?”

  “’Twould be a scandal indeed. You’d be ruined for certain. Probably forced to marry the brigand who seduced you.”

  Lana pushed up on her elbow. “’Twas not you who seduced me, Your Grace.”

  His nostrils flared. “It most certainly was.”

  “Nae. It was I who seduced you.” She fluttered her lashes in a penitent manner. “It was all part of my plan to compromise you. Do you mind so verra much?”

  He tucked a length of hair behind her ear. His lips quirked. “Not at all. I rather like being compromised.”

  “You really don’t mind marrying me?”

  “Mind?” He sat up and set his forehead on hers. His breath washed over her face. His eyes bore into hers. “Lana, my sweet. I have never been happier in my life.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’ve never felt so complete than when I am with you. Never so hopeful. Never so happy.”

  “I’m happy, too, Lachlan. Really I am. And I canna wait for the wedding. Canna wait to say I do. But I must go now, or I fear I will stay all night.”

  “I wouldn’t complain.”

  “Hannah would.”

  At the reminder of her sister’s vehemence, he cringed. “All right. Let me get dressed and I will walk you back to your room.”

  She snorted a laugh. “I doona need an escort in my own home. Besides, if we should be seen together, well, the aforementioned kerfuffle would undoubtedly ensue, and that would be awkward.” She pushed him back on his pillows and kissed him, then hopped from the bed and searched for her gown. Odd, how used she had become to being bare before him. But then, that’s what intimacy was.

  Once she was dressed, she kissed him again and, though he tried to delay her, she took her leave.

  A smile played on her lips as she made her way through the valet’s door and down the staircase. Tomorrow night, they could spend the entire night together. It would be sublime.

  She turned the corner into the darkened servants’ hall and skidded to a halt as a shadow loomed before her. A man. Alarm skirled through her as she recognized his features, twisted with malice as they were.
>
  Dougal, it appeared, had returned.

  Her first reaction was to scream, but he was quick. He yanked her around, against his hard form, and slammed his hand over her mouth.

  “Miss Dounreay,” he hissed into her ear. “What providence. Just the bride I was coming to collect. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  She fought him, and he chuckled, tightening his hold even more as he pulled her through the deserted kitchens, into the bailey and then into a waiting carriage. It aggravated her mightily that she was too small, too weak to protect herself. That she hadn’t thought to bring a weapon.

  But he was large and she was wee, and he had her bound and gagged before she knew what had happened. She didn’t like the glint in his eye as he leaned back and surveyed her. His lips twisted, though it wasn’t in a smile. “So you thought to marry the doomed duke?” he asked. It was probably a rhetorical question, since she was in no position to answer. “Now you will see what happens to women who align with the Dukes of Caithness. Now you will discover that the curse is verra real.” With a harsh chuckle, he rapped on the ceiling and the coach lurched into motion.

  * * *

  A pounding on his door woke Lachlan, though he was in no hurry to answer. He stretched and smiled and reflected on the fact that this was his wedding day.

  Odd that.

  He’d never thought he’d see the day when he would take a bride. Never thought he’d feel such an unaccountable lightness of spirit at the prospect.

  But he allowed it. Not only had Lana finally agreed to be his, he had recovered two pieces of the MacAlpin Cross and had them secured in his chest. Two pieces, and only one left to find. Only one. Surely that was not so impossible. Hope was a frail thing to a man like him, but he held on to it fiercely.

  Suddenly, astoundingly, the world seemed to be a warm and welcoming place where anything was possible.

  And it was all because of her.

  She was a miracle, his Lana. His miracle.

  The hammering increased. “Lachlan!”

  Urged by the alarm in Alexander’s tone, Lachlan rose from the bed, tugged on a robe, and padded to the door. He was surprised to find a crowd on his threshold. Alexander, Hannah, Andrew, Susana, Magnus, and Hamish … even Isobel was there. They were all frowning.

  “Tell me Lana is in your bed,” Hannah commanded.

  Lachlan glanced over his shoulder, though he was fairly certain she was not. She had been, though. Not so long ago. “Of course not.” He feigned offense, although he wasn’t terribly convincing, even to himself.

  “Oh, lord.”

  He didn’t understand Hannah’s wail.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Lana is no’ in her room. I went to wake her … and her bed hasna been slept in.”

  Lachlan’s gut rippled. She’d left long before dawn. Surely she would have slept. Mussed her bed at the very least.

  “We’ve searched for her throughout the castle, and couldna find hide nor hair of her,” Susana said through clenched teeth.

  Andrew turned to Hamish. “If she’s not here, we must rally the men and extend the search to the woods.”

  The woods? Good God. His blood went cold as the possibilities flittered through his mind. Each more horrifying than the last. Bloody hell. He should have walked her to her room.

  Fuck. He should have kept her here.

  “Let me get dressed. Shall I meet you downstairs?”

  Worry plagued Lachlan as he pulled on his breeks and a simple shirt and hurried down to the morning room where the others had assembled. Alexander and Andrew had maps spread on the table and were quartering them out. Hamish was talking to his men, all trained trackers. Magnus sat in the corner, sipping a whisky, though his hand shook with such force it sloshed from the glass.

  The bustle made him feel useless, worthless. He didn’t like the feeling.

  Dounreay’s factor appeared in the doorway with a small ragamuffin in tow. “Your Grace. This boy says he has a message for you.” The announcement sent a cold chill through the room. Silence fell.

  An icy fist gripped Lachlan’s heart as he stared at the child; in his dirty fingers, he clutched a letter.

  Lachlan took it from him and stared at the flourish on the envelope. To the Doomed Duke, it said. It was Dougal’s handwriting. His gut churned as he slit the missive open with a finger. Somehow he knew what it would say.

  Return to Caithness Castle at once if you ever want to see Lana Dounreay again. And come alone.

  It wasn’t signed, but then, it didn’t need to be.

  Dread curled through him. Clearly, his cousin was deranged. Insane. And he had Lana. He slumped into a chair and raked his hair.

  Andrew took the letter from his slack fingers and scanned it. Then he handed it to Alexander. Dunnet bristled. “Who gave this to you?” he barked at the boy. Hannah set a hand on his arm and he cleared his throat and asked again, in a gentler tone.

  The boy shook. His lips were pale. His response was little more than a whisper, but Lachlan heard. They all heard. “A man. On the pier. He gave me three pence if I delivered this letter to the castle in the morning.”

  “On the pier.” Andrew frowned. “Then he is taking her by sea?”

  Of course. Lachlan dragged his fingers through his hair. “It is the fastest way.” The journey would take a day or two, that which would take weeks by carriage.

  Hannah exchanged a glance with Susana. “She hates the sea.”

  Did she? He hadn’t known that. There were so many things he didn’t know. He’d had so little time with her. And now, he had to wonder … had he run out? So soon?

  “By sea. Of course. Then that’s how we shall follow,” Alexander said, a resolute expression on his face.

  Lachlan’s head snapped up. He stared at his friend. “I canna ask you to come.”

  Alexander’s jaw firmed. “You need not ask us to come.”

  He scraped to his feet. “’Tis too dangerous. I fear Dougal is mad. There is no telling what he might do.”

  “All the more reason for you to have support. Aside from which, until she is wed to you, Lana is my responsibility.”

  Andrew nodded. “Of course we’re coming.”

  “Absolutely.” Hannah leaped to her feet as well. “She’s our sister.”

  Alexander gaped at his wife. “Oh, you’re no’ coming.”

  “Of course we are.” Susana earned a frown from Andrew as well.

  “Nae. You’re no’.”

  “I canna have my husband-to-be wandering into dangerous territory without me to protect him!” Susana fingered her bow.

  Andrew went pink to the tips of his ears. “I can take care of myself.”

  She gestured at his chest, still heavily bandaged. “You were shot less than two weeks ago.”

  “I can still defend myself. And Susana, darling, I couldn’t bear for you to be in danger. We doona know what we will face.”

  “Then we shall face it together.” Susana tipped her chin at a stubborn angle. “I am not staying here to worry.”

  “Aye,” a small voice piped up. “I’m going, too.”

  Susana whirled around to gape at her daughter. She paled. “You most certainly are no’ going!”

  Isobel put out a lip. “If you are all going, then I’m going, too.”

  Magnus sighed. “I suppose I should go as well.” When everyone whipped around to stare at him, he shrugged. “She is my daughter.”

  * * *

  In the end, it was decided that the entire company would go, but Lachlan insisted that when they arrived on the east coast, only he, Alexander, and Andrew would approach the castle. The others would stay at the inn in Ackergill. He couldn’t stomach the prospect of any of them being harmed because of his curse.

  And it was clear to him now. He was cursed.

  Only his curse was named Dougal.

  The castle was as dismal as he remembered, if not more so. As they approached it from the town of Ackergill, Lachlan had the benefit
of experiencing it from another’s point of view. Perched on the top of the rise, on the cliff overlooking the ocean, the main hall, the most habitable portion, was flanked on either side by ruin. It wasn’t pleasing.

  Andrew whistled. “That’s a lot of castle to search.”

  Lachlan nodded, though he doubted any search would yield results. Dougal knew every nook and cranny of the fortress and would likely be holding Lana in a remote spot. He could only pray she was safe, that his cousin hadn’t hurt her.

  If he had, Lachlan would kill him.

  He eyed the castle with a dark frown. He’d never hated it more than he hated it now. But it wasn’t the crumble of stones he hated, he realized in a sudden, snarling revelation. It was Dougal.

  “Our best bet is to draw him out. Let him know we are here and see what he does, but be on your guard.”

  “Excellent idea,” Andrew muttered.

  As they rode into the deserted bailey and stabled their horses, all was silent. But then, Lachlan didn’t expect Dougal to tip his hand until he was ready.

  Though he was anxious to find Lana, to make sure she was safe, there was nothing they could do but settle in, eat the dinner they’d brought with them, and wait.

  It was a long night.

  Lachlan had no intention of sleeping, but he urged Andrew and Alexander—who had set up pallets in the antechamber of his suite—to get some rest. He tucked his knife into his boot and spent the night pacing … and fretting. With each hour, his anxiety rose.

  Where was she? Was she safe? Was she frightened? How had she fared on the voyage here? The fact that she was frightened of water and had been forced onto a ship horrified him. Beyond that, had Dougal been rough with her? Had he hurt her? Had he—

  “I told you to come alone.”

  Lachlan’s heart lurched. He whirled to see Dougal standing in the corner, holding a pistol. It stunned him for a moment, to see his cousin appear, as though from thin air, but then Lachlan saw the flutter of the tapestry behind him, and he realized his rooms here, as those in Dounreay, had a valet’s door. He should have suspected as much. He didn’t know why it had never occurred to him. This was an old castle. There were probably a lot of secret passages. He should have asked Archie Dunphy about that before he sent him to Newgate.