Hannah Howell

by Highland Hearts

  “ ’Tis a shame ye didna lose a bit of that arrogance as well.”

  “Pardon?” Revan felt lost and confused, no longer sure of the cause of her annoyance.

  “Ye ken what I said—arrogance. That which makes ye believe I need you to guide my every step or that I need your great worldliness to aid me in deciding what I do or dinna want.” She looked away from him, his stunned expression making her sorry that her temper was spoiling what had been so beautiful, yet she felt unable to hold her tongue.

  “That is why ye scowl at me so?” he asked as he slowly sat up. “Ye think me arrogant?”

  “Well, I dinna ken what else ye would call it. I may not have rolled about in the heather before, but I do possess the wit to ken when such as that is being offered and to decide if I wish to say aye or nay.”

  Moving slightly so he sat behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and ignored how stiffly she sat in his hold. He smiled as he nuzzled her thick hair. Amusing though it was, he knew she was also right. She did have the wit to know what was being offered and what was lost. He could not, however, fully quell his guilt.

  “Aye, ye have the wit to ken that. Truth is, ye have more wit than is comfortable in a lass.” He kissed her shoulder and ran his hands over her bared arms. “I but felt the pinch of guilt, for I can promise you nothing in return for this precious gift.”

  “I didna ask ye to promise me anything. And ere ye ask, I did hear you when ye said you were not a man for marrying.” She relaxed in his hold, seduced by his touch and gentle nibbling kisses on her shoulders. “Ye dinna expect me to promise anything, do ye? And I havena, have I?” Leaning her head against his shoulder she looked up at him wondering why he was frowning at her.

  “This will cause you trouble with the man ye may choose to wed some day.” He felt a strong twinge of protest at the thought of her belonging to any other man but hastily pushed it aside.

  “Revan, this will undoubtedly sound cold, mayhaps even unfeeling, but if and when I decide to wed, I ken that my fortune will soothe any offense.”

  For a moment he just stared at her, a little stunned by the hard, cold truth. She looked so sweet, so innocent, yet was clearly not naive. When or if she decided she had need of a husband, she could, quite simply, purchase one. It was done all the time, although no one usually spoke of it with Tess’s bluntness. What troubled him was that he felt she deserved so much more.

  In an attempt to clear his mind of such puzzles and questions, he turned his attention to the soft slim body he held. Slowly he moved his hands down from her shoulders to cup her breasts. He circled and stroked the tips with his thumbs, watching as they hardened with invitation.

  “If ye ask for no promises nor give any and dinna look for love nor marriage, then why? Why give yourself to me?” He briefly glanced at her face to see that she had closed her eyes and her cheeks were lightly flushed with renewing desire.

  Tess hastily swallowed the words of love that rushed into her mouth. He wanted to hear sighs of passion, the heated murmurs of desire, not vows of devotion. If she was lucky, there could come a time when he welcomed knowing all that rested in her heart. Now such declarations could all too easily push him away. That would gain her nothing.

  “I wanted you.” Her voice was soft and husky.

  “ ’Tis all?” That answer left him feeling keenly disappointed. While he had to eschew love and marriage, he wanted more than some simple common lusting on her part. What he felt was far from simple and common. He wanted her to share the depth of the hunger he suffered, to know some of the aching need that had been twisting his innards for days. He had never desired a woman as fiercely as he desired her, never tasted such a full, rich pleasure. It stung to think her passion might not be as strong.

  “Nay, but ’tisna easy to explain.” She trembled faintly as he moved his hands down her body to her stomach. “ ’Tis such a great want, a fierce goading hunger.” He moved one hand lower, and his gentle, intimate caress made it very hard for her to carefully measure her words. “I have had a fancy or two, an interest, but this was the first time I ever thought on giving myself to a man, the first time I ever kenned that I might never find it so fine again.”

  “Oh, aye, very fine,” he murmured as he nibbled her ear. “The sweetest, the richest, the best.”

  “Aye—just so. I didna think it could be measured so for a man. I thought ’twas all the same to him.”

  Turning her in his arms, he brushed his lips over hers. “So did I—until now. I have never felt the hunger so badly before.”

  He kissed her as he gently eased her down onto their rough bed. Tess clung to him and decided hunger was a very good word for what she suffered. He made her feel as if she would starve, would wither away and slowly die without the delight he offered.

  When he ended the kiss and looked at her, idly brushing stray wisps of hair from her face, she could see the hunger he spoke of reflected in the warm, smoky-blue depths of his eyes. It puzzled her that he could feel only hunger. How could such a strong feeling stand alone, without feeding or being fed by other emotions? For her it was all so entwined that one would be lost without the others. Revan’s passion could be a thing apart, untouched by more complicated emotions.

  “Aye—hunger.” She traced his finely arced tawny brow with one finger, then lightly trailed it down his long straight nose. “ ’Twas so strong I had to fight it each and every minute. Then ye went out to make yourself a target for those men. Ye were gone so long, I was sure they had won, that ye were dead and I would never feed that hunger. When ye returned, unharmed, ’twas as if I had been given a second chance.”

  “And ye took it.” He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm.

  “Grabbed it with both hands and all the greed a strong hunger can inspire. The touch of sin suddenly didna mean so very much, didna seem such a great price to pay. In truth, I had already sinned by thinking on it.”

  “Ye have been thinking on it, have ye?”

  “Oh, aye.”

  “ ’Tis good to learn I wasna alone.”

  “Ye thought about it, too?”

  “From the first time ye curled up against me in the night.” He brushed soft kisses over her face. “Then I never ceased to think about it. I found it difficult to think about anything else—even the danger we were in.” He began to slowly cover her slim, long neck with kisses. “It made the days and nights we have spent here seem like years. Long, hellish years.”

  Slipping her fingers into his thick hair, she murmured her pleasure as his lips touched her breasts. “Did I torment you, then?”

  “Night and day.”

  “Good.” She grinned when he gave her a look of feigned reproach. “Well, ye were tormenting me some.” She trailed her fingers down his spine. “I am glad to hear I wasna alone in thinking some of those days and nights were longer than they ought to be.”

  “I think that the rest of our stay here will seem all too short,” he whispered as he touched his mouth to hers.

  As Tess accepted and returned his passionate kiss, she prayed the time would be long enough for her to get at least a tentative grasp upon his heart.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Are ye certain ye have the right meeting place?” Tess sat and idly plucked at the mossy ground that made a slight clearing in the trees.

  Sitting at her side, Revan put his arm about her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Aye, in this forest at the place where ye can look through the fork of two trees and see the hill.”

  “Ah, of course, there being so few forked trees and hills in Scotland, ’tis foolish to think ye might be wrong.”

  Revan laughed, tugged her into his arms so that she was sprawled across his lap, and heartily kissed her. “Such a tart tongue yet such sweet kisses,” he murmured as he diverted his kisses to her throat.

  Realizing what Revan was contemplating as a possible way to pass the time, Tess wriggled in his hold until he looked at her. “Wasna your friend supposed to be here by now?�
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  “Aye.” He gently pulled at the front of her doublet. “Why not loosen this? Ye must be feeling warm.” He winked at her.

  “Rogue. Not so warm I wish your somewhat tardy friend to catch us tussling about amongst the trees.”

  “Old Simon willna mind.”

  “Och, well,” drawled a deep voice, “I think ‘old’ Simon would mind just a wee bit.”

  Tess gave a startled cry. Revan abruptly turned toward the voice, reaching for his sword with one hand, and unceremoniously dumping her off his lap. She realized she had been forgotten as Revan gave a glad cry, then rose to embrace Simon, both men clapping each other on the back with a rather boisterous camaraderie. As she stood up and brushed herself off, she told herself it was foolish to feel hurt. Revan was simply acting like a man. She did, however, retain the right to be annoyed.

  As she waited to be remembered, she studied the man called Simon. He was built much like Revan but a few inches shorter. From his rich attire, she guessed that Simon had a taste for finery. She judged him to be of an age with Revan. Whereas Revan was fair, however, Simon was as dark as night. She could almost think him some unknown kin of her father’s.

  “Come, Revan, introduce me to your fair companion,” Simon said at last.

  When Revan drew Simon closer to her, Tess saw that the man’s eyes were fine and green. His warm smile lightened his swarthy, somewhat sharply cut features.

  “I assume ye are Mistress Contessa Delgado,” Simon murmured, bowing slightly then taking her hand in his to lightly kiss the back of it. “May I say that my friend has never stolen a fairer maid.”

  “Aye, ye may,” she replied with a grin as Revan moved to her side and pulled her hand free of Simon’s grasp.

  Keeping hold of Tess’s hand, Revan asked, “So the tale of her ‘kidnapping’ has already been spread about, has it?”

  Simon quickly grew solemn. “I fear it has. Come, ’tis late. Let us make camp, eat, and then we can make plans.”

  Leaving the men to that, for they were far more adept at it, Tess sat down and watched them. Simon’s grave demeanor began to make Revan tense. She noticed Revan’s wary expression and his careful movements. She also began to share his uneasiness. Try as she would, Tess could not convince herself that Simon’s gravity was caused solely by the dire threat of treason.

  They ate a light meal mostly in silence. Tess found that even more ominous. It was as if Simon did not want to speak and Revan did not dare ask any questions. The tension became so taut that even terrible information would be better than not knowing.

  “Ye kenned who Tessa was,” Revan said at last. “Her uncle has spread word that she was kidnapped.”

  “Aye.” Simon sighed as he took a bracing sip of wine from the wineskin. “He not only says ye have kidnapped the lass, but that your intent is to rape and murder her.”

  “Does he give me some reason to commit such a vile crime?” Revan asked through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, aye—vengeance. Ye did this when Brenda spurned your attentions.”

  Revan cursed creatively. “And this is believed?” he demanded. “Why would anyone believe it?”

  “Mayhaps some have seen Mistress Brenda. She is said to be most beautiful.”

  “I have seen bonnier,” Revan grumbled. He took a long drink.

  Deciding now was not a good time to ask who was bonnier, Tess simply murmured, “Mayhaps those who have seen Brenda havena been as blessed as you.”

  Revan glared at her.

  “I dinna see what is troubling you so,” Tess continued. “I can easily refute the kidnapping charge. Although,” she drawled, “there is a wee bit of truth to it. A knife at one’s throat canna honestly be called a courteous invitation.”

  “Ye mean to belabor me with that till I am dead and buried, dinna ye?”

  “Oh, nay, never that long. But it deserves recalling now and again.”

  “Ye held a knife to her throat?” Simon asked, his expression a mixture of concern and amusement.

  “I will tell the tale,” Revan said when Tess opened her mouth. “If I hadna done it,” he concluded after a terse relating of his escape from Thurkettle, “I would be a dead man.”

  “Ye forgot the part where ye threatened to give me a new smile,” Tess murmured helpfully. Simon grinned.

  “I had to appear really threatening or they wouldna have believed me. What was I to say? Pardon, sirs, I dinna truly intend to hurt the lass? I would have been dead ere we stepped out of that cell!”

  “Reminders of the kidnapping do irritate you, eh? Not to worry,” she hurried to say, “ ’tis a charge easily cast aside.”

  “Ye must get to the king first.”

  “ ’Tis where we head now, is it not? Do we not travel with Simon now?”

  “Nay. ’Tis best and safer if we travel separately, especially since we have people hunting us.”

  “Then I shall write to the king, and Simon can take him the message.”

  “Ye can write?”

  Tess found his surprise mildly insulting. “Aye, I can write.”

  “That would help,” said Simon, “except that I dinna have quill nor ink nor anything to write upon. Do ye?”

  “Nay.” Revan ran a hand through his hair. “Your word on this may do as well—for now.”

  Simon nodded. “ ’Tis a pity that isna all of it. Ere I tell you the worst of it, I assure you that many do not believe these lies. Many speak out on your behalf. Your family decries each charge and black rumor.”

  “What other crimes have been lain at my feet?”

  “The murder of Leith MacNeill.”

  Revan looked shocked. “Why should I kill one of the king’s men? One who aided me, worked with me?”

  “Because he found out ye were no king’s man but one of Douglas’s.”

  “They try to brand me a traitor!”

  “Only softly, at least when I left, but that was a fortnight ago. Those scurrilous whispers could have grown louder. Of course, the ones who decry those whispers as lies and slander were loud themselves.”

  “ ’Tis good to ken it takes some work to blacken my name so vilely. But with traitors at every turn and the Douglases in open revolt, it could work. The king has been taught the bitter lesson of trusting too freely.”

  “And has a very black temper,” mumbled Tess.

  Both Revan and Simon frowned at her.

  “ ’Tisna treasonous to say so but the simple truth, and a truth it wouldna be wise to ignore. ’Twas the king’s rages that helped stir up this trouble. Did he or didna he stab the earl of Douglas in a fury because the man wouldna end his alliance with the lord of the Isles? And the earl was under a safe conduct. A man who lets his rage run so hot and free might not have the patience needed to ken the truth or to wait out whatever doubts he may have. Ye may not wish to speak such truth aloud, but ye should still weigh its worth. ’Tis yet another thing that could work against you, Revan.”

  “The lass has the right of it,” agreed Simon, “though it shouldna be spoken of so freely. If the king has some doubts, then in a moment of black rage he could cause some grievous trouble for you, Revan.”

  “Ye mean I could well find the king’s own men and allies eager to part my head from my shoulders.”

  “Exactly—and ye already have quite enough people eager to do that.”

  “Aye, Thurkettle and no doubt the Douglases, too,” Revan muttered. He was beginning to feel as if he were neck deep in a bog and sinking fast. “At least”—he took Tess’s hand in his—“the taint of treason hasna touched you.” He looked at Simon. “Has it?”

  “Nay, she is seen as but a victim,” he said cheerfully. “But,” he continued, “I should be wary around any of the king’s men or allies. Some may not ken that ’tis all but rumor, still hotly argued. Some may feel rumor is enough when war darkens the horizon.”

  Revan nodded, staring at his and Tess’s clasped hands. They were in danger—both of them. He cursed inwardly. Every bow and sword t
hreatening him threatened her as well.

  “I should have left you behind,” he grumbled. “I have plunged you into the thick of it, Tessa.”

  Tess opened her mouth to protest. But she remained silent. It would be a lie, empty words mouthed to soothe him.

  He would not believe it any more than she did. He had dragged her into a great deal of trouble, but he had not caused that trouble. She felt sure she would have been caught up in it all eventually anyway. Revan should not blame himself.

  “Aye, ye have. But I couldna have escaped most of this. I would have stumbled onto what Uncle was plotting sooner or later. Then I would have had to stand against him. Also, we ken now that he has always wished me dead.”

  “Why does your uncle wish you dead?” asked Simon.

  “I have a small fortune and some land.”

  “And,” added Revan, “she kens a few things about Thurkettle and about the Douglases that he doesna wish told.”

  “That explains it,” muttered Simon, then paused for another drink of wine.

  “Explains what?” Revan demanded, wishing it was not going to be another answer he was not going to like.

  “There is coin offered for your deaths by Thurkettle and by the Douglases.”

  “For both of us?” Even as he asked, Revan put his arm about Tess’s shoulders, holding her closer to his side.

  “Aye—for both of you. That they would offer a bounty for her head puzzled me. But our compatriot within the Douglas camp assured me it was true. They badly wish to catch both of you ere ye can reach the king. From what our friend said, word of it is spreading swiftly. Ye willna be able to trust anyone.”

  “Surely, if the king heard of that, he would realize that my uncle was spreading lies,” Tess said. “If Uncle claims Revan wishes to murder me and plays the wronged party, then later offers money for my death, that alone exposes him as a liar.”

  “It should,” agreed Simon, “but the accusations against Revan are all that reach the king’s ear. And ’tis just as much a rumor as all the rest. More so. There is, after all, the fact that ye are gone to give the hint of truth to the tales Thurkettle spreads.”