He had intended exactly that until he caught sight of Lianna. Rhys cursed and got to his feet just as Warrick did. ‘I lied. But even so, she’s watching you.’
Just as he’d hoped, Warrick turned his head. Rhys struck another blow, but his brother anticipated the move and avoided it entirely. He was rewarded by another smile from Rosamund.
Her approval spurred his brother to strike hard, over and over again, moving with speed and intensity. Rhys continued to deflect the blows but retreated to make Warrick look good. His brother lunged hard, trying to knock him over, but Rhys dodged the blow, laughing.
‘Go and talk with her.’ He clapped a hand on Warrick’s back, half-pushing him towards the young woman. At least one of them had the interest of a woman.
Rhys remained where he was, watching. He glanced up to the window and saw that Lianna was still watching, though her expression had not changed.
He remained at a distance while his brother approached Rosamund, drawing near to her. For a moment, it did not seem that Warrick could form a single sentence. But then, the young woman reached over her shoulder to pull a ribbon free from her braid. She tied it to his arm, and Rhys overheard her say, ‘Now you have my favour.’
He didn’t want to interfere with his brother’s courtship, but he remained at a distance, picking up the quarterstaffs to put them away. A part of him envied his brother, to hold the favour of a woman. Although Rhys had enjoyed flirtations with a maid or two over the years, it had never been more than a brief liaison. He had needed to exorcise the demons of Analise’s memory, and the women had been willing. He’d learned that giving physical pleasure brought its own power, and the maids had known he was betrothed to Lianna. Yet the only time Lianna had ever smiled at him was when she had believed he was someone else.
After Rosamund had gone, Warrick picked up her fallen sewing. Rhys knew exactly what had happened, but he couldn’t resist the urge to tease his brother. ‘Are you thinking of picking up a needle yourself, Warrick?’
‘She dropped it,’ his brother answered.
‘Did she? Or did she leave it on purpose, to give you a reason to see her again?’
Sometimes his brother failed to see the obvious answer before him. Warrick was about to pursue the young woman, but Rhys caught his arm. ‘Not yet, Brother. Wait another day.’
But Warrick reached for his tunic and pulled it over his head. ‘I’ll give it to one of the servants to return to her.’
Rhys resisted the urge to sigh. ‘Why would you? She deliberately left it for you.’ He shrugged. ‘Claim a kiss from her as thanks.’
‘Her father would never allow a match between her and a man like me.’
That much was the truth. It was unlikely that Warrick would be permitted to wed a beautiful heiress, especially when their own father despised him. But Rhys saw no reason to destroy his brother’s dreams.
‘You desire her. Just as she desires you.’ A darkness slid over his mood as he thought of the night he had spent in Lianna’s arms. Not once had she reached towards him since that time. And ever since the night he’d forced her to change her clothing, she had avoided any contact with him. ‘At least one of us might have a good marriage,’ he ventured. Though Rhys had wanted to hope that Lianna would forgive him in time, it had not happened. Instead, the longer she spent at his father’s home, the more she seemed to retreat inside herself.
‘Lianna MacKinnon is a beautiful woman.’
‘With a heart of ice,’ Rhys finished. ‘She despises the air I breathe, and with good reason.’
After he had deceived her, killed her brother, and taken her virginity, she hardly spoke to him any more. ‘Were it possible, I would take her to Scotland and leave her there. That would make her happy.’
His brother’s eyes turned sympathetic, but Rhys only shrugged. ‘One day, you will understand what it is to be powerless to command your own life. God help you then.’
Chapter Six
It was the night before the formal betrothal, and Lianna sat upon the dais beside Rhys, picking at her plate.
‘Is the food not to your liking?’ he asked quietly.
It could have been dirt served before her, for all that she tasted it. ‘It is fine.’
He broke off a piece of bread and gave it to her. ‘I asked my father for permission to wed you in Scotland. He agreed, on one condition.’
A sudden wave of longing passed over her at the thought of returning home. ‘What is it?’
‘He asks that you speak our wedding vows before a priest, here at Montbrooke, first. It can be done privately, but he insists upon witnessing our union himself.’
Likely because Lord Montbrooke did not believe the marriage would be legal, unless the vows were spoken in England. Which also meant that Rhys’s father would likely also demand proof of consummation. She flushed at the thought. ‘W-when does he want this to happen?’
‘That is your choice,’ Rhys answered. ‘The betrothal will happen on the morrow, and we can be wedded at any time after that. If you wish it to happen that night, we can speak the vows. Or if you want to wait a few days, that can also be arranged.’
He spoke of it as if he were collecting rents from the serfs instead of joining their lives in marriage.
‘We can wait a few days,’ she agreed. ‘But I would prefer that only a few are present for the wedding.’ She loathed the idea of being the centre of attention.
‘I will see to it.’ Rhys ate the bread, turning his attention back to the festivities. ‘My father’s wife Rowena has tried to provide entertainment for us this evening. We will play a game of stoolball.’
‘I have never heard of this,’ she admitted.
‘It is a game of skill, and I think you will find it amusing.’ He reached out to touch her hand, and offered, ‘You may enjoy the moment of fun.’
She couldn’t remember the last time she had indulged in an activity, purely for fun. Perhaps not since she was a child. And even now, Lianna didn’t know if she wanted to join the others. She had kept silent for most of her time here, though she had spoken to Lady Montbrooke in the Norman tongue once. It had been unavoidable, and Rowena had been so pleased by the effort, she had smiled warmly, believing Lianna was only shy about speaking.
The meal ended, and Lord Montbrooke called for everyone to gather outside for evening stories, contests, and games. Lianna held back while the other young ladies went to join Lady Montbrooke. But Rhys guided her to stand among them before he departed to join his father.
‘Will you join the other ladies in a game of stoolball?’ Lady Montbrooke enquired.
Lianna remained behind them, but Rosamund de Beaufort welcomed her to come closer. She had met the young woman several days ago and had liked her. Not only was she beautifully talented with her needle, but she also talked a great deal and had a warm smile.
Rosamund stood beside her sister Cecilia and brightened at the prospect of a game. ‘If you wish.’
Lady Montbrooke gave each of them a small tansy cake wrapped in linen, explaining, ‘I know we usually play this game at Easter, but it’s one of Rhys’s favourites. These are the prizes.’ Then she led them to an open clearing where six wooden stools were placed. On the opposite end, there were several wooden balls and a stick with a paddle on one end.
‘Go and choose a stool to stand upon,’ she directed the women.
From the broad smiles on the faces of the men, Lianna had a sudden suspicion what this game involved. Why else would young maidens be chosen to stand alone upon stools? It drew attention to them, and she suspected that the men would compete for their favour.
She hung back, unwilling to join them. In a low voice, she said to Lady Montbrooke, ‘I have no wish to play. Let the others enjoy themselves.’
But Lady Montbrooke took her by the hand and led her away from the other young women who eagerly chose their places. �
��You needn’t be afraid, my dear. It’s only a game, and Rhys has expressly forbidden the other men from bothering you.’ She squeezed her palm and added, ‘Our guests are here to honour you and my stepson. Please do not bring shame upon our household by refusing.’
The woman’s quiet chiding had its intended effect. Though she loathed the thought of others staring at her, Lianna reluctantly chose the stool nearest to the men.
Several of the young maidens were laughing, and she overheard Rosamund asking about the game.
One of the others admitted that the men could choose which prize they wanted. ‘Either the tansy cake or a kiss,’ the maiden said with a wide smile.
Oh, no. She had no desire for Rhys to kiss her in front of all these people, particularly now. But it was the price of his agreement to hold their marriage celebration in Scotland. She could not humiliate him or his father in front of so many guests.
The game began, and the men lined up for their turn. The first soldier was one she recognised, one of Rhys’s guards who had travelled with them back from Scotland. He was attempting to throw a ball at the stool Lianna was standing upon.
What on earth?
She had no time to discover what was happening, for another man defended her by striking the ball away with the stick. He ran hard around the line of stools, and his ball struck the base of it. After he had scored a point for his team, he returned to stand before one of the maidens. She offered him the cake, but instead, he took her face between his hands and brought her down for a deep kiss.
So she had been right about the prize. The men cheered, and the winner escorted the maiden away from the stools. Another young woman took her place.
Had Rhys chosen this game to force her to kiss him? It seemed unlikely, for he had left her alone these past few weeks. But then she saw him approach and pick up a ball. His brother Warrick took his place with the bat, intending to defend her.
‘Don’t hit it, Brother,’ Rhys warned.
It was clear that he intended to claim her. Lianna stood motionless, afraid of being the centre of attention while Rhys aimed the ball towards her stool. She gripped her hands together, praying he would miss.
Her face must have given away her emotions, for Rhys’s expression turned angry. It almost seemed that he was trying to force her hand.
But the moment Rhys released the ball, Warrick struck it hard with his bat. It bounded across the grass and struck Rosamund’s stool hard. He ran past all the stools, a tense smile upon his face. He had ignored his brother’s wishes, but Lianna realised that he had his own prize in mind. He approached Rosamund, and Lianna’s heart softened at the sight of them. Warrick was staring at the maiden as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And Rosamund looked as if she wanted his kiss.
Lianna’s heart ached at the sight of them. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like, if a man stared at her in that way.
Only weeks ago, Rhys had looked at her as if he were a starving man. She had revelled in his touch and in his kiss. If Rhys had been a Highlander, everything might have been different. Her brother would never have attacked and would still be alive.
For a moment, she met Rhys’s gaze, wishing she could turn back time and return to the life she had known. She would not feel so trapped in this marriage...and she might even enjoy being with him.
Lianna was startled out of her daydreams when a ball struck her stool. Rhys strode towards her, a fierce expression on his face. One of the men teased, ‘You already had your turn, my lord.’
But he was undeterred and came to her. For a moment, Lianna wasn’t certain what to do. She held out the tansy cake to him, but Rhys ignored it. Before she could protest, he picked her up in his arms and started to carry her off.
‘But...the cake,’ she stammered.
‘I hate tansy cake. Throw it to the dogs.’ He continued walking away from the crowd, though she was aware of everyone’s eyes upon them.
When she dropped the cake in the grass, one of the dogs devoured it hungrily. And from the look in Rhys’s eyes, he was about to do the same to her.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she whispered.
‘Because for weeks now, I’ve left you alone. I have not demanded anything of you, save your obedience. And you hardly say a single word to me.’
He stopped walking when they reached the inner wall. Slowly, he lowered her to her feet, trapping her against the wall with both hands. ‘You seduced me that night, Lianna. And I know you enjoyed it.’
Her skin flushed, and heat rose through her body at his words. For she could not deny he was speaking the truth.
He pressed her back, his hand around her waist while he leaned in close. ‘I know you despise me. I know you pray every night that you won’t have to wed me.’
She faltered at that, for it was not true. The realisation shocked her, and she didn’t know what to say. The very thought of wanting this man unnerved her.
Against the heat of his body, his breath warmed her lips. ‘And I know you don’t want to feel anything at all when I touch you. But I know you do. And before we wed, I want you to realise how it can be between us, if you allow it.’
His mouth descended on hers, but it was not a punishing kiss. No, this was designed to tempt her, his mouth moulding to hers as his tongue slipped inside. She felt herself yielding to his nearness, pressing her hips back against his own.
Desire roared through her, and she was so confused that she gripped his shoulders for balance. Despite all that had happened, her body’s needs could not be denied. Her breasts tightened beneath the silk of her gown, and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her thighs.
Her breathing hitched, and he continued to kiss her, drawing his hands down her back, cupping her bottom. She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Her own tongue entered his mouth, and he deepened the embrace, his mouth capturing hers until she could scarcely breathe.
Rhys broke away, and her heart was thundering in her chest. His mouth rested above hers, and he said quietly, ‘When you gave yourself to me that night, it wasn’t enough.’ He lifted her slightly, and she felt the hard thrust of his erection against her. A shuddering ache brought a wetness between her legs. ‘I’ve never forgotten the sweet taste of your breasts or the tightness of your body sheathing mine.’
She yearned for this man, and the soft thrust against her was enough to build back the shimmering echo of need. He kissed her hard, his tongue sliding within her mouth in an echo of the lovemaking they had once shared. And God help her, she wanted more.
The probing length of his shaft rubbed against her through the barrier of their clothing, and it tantalised her. Her body arched against him, and he never ceased the assault on her senses.
Rhys was not a warrior who would be denied, and he was relentless in the endless kiss. Lianna cried out as an unexpected release tore through her in shuddering waves of pleasure. It embarrassed her that she had fallen apart so easily, and she buried her face in his shoulder as the aftershocks claimed her.
‘I want to take you back to the donjon and claim you,’ Rhys murmured, nipping at her ear. ‘Soon enough, we will be wed. And if you allow it, every night, you will feel this way.’
Surely he had cast a spell of madness over her. When he let her go, her knees buckled beneath her. She caught the edge of the wall, not understanding what he had done.
Rhys held out his hand. ‘Walk with me, Lianna. We must join the others again.’
She joined him, but it felt as if he had broken the edges of her invisible shield, leaving her vulnerable.
And she simply didn’t know what would happen now.
* * *
At dawn, Rhys rose and dressed alone. He departed his chamber and walked down the spiral stairs, when suddenly he stopped. Near the bottom of the staircase, there was another opening in the floor, leading down t
o the underground storage chambers.
Rhys gritted his teeth in memory. When he was an adolescent, he had spent three nights imprisoned in that storage chamber, thanks to Analise. Even now, the memory of her voice twisted through his gut.
You are very strong, you know. I would wager you’re stronger than your father. Let me see.
She had put her hands on his upper arms, trying to feel his muscles. Her touch had bothered him deeply, for he had never invited it.
Your father will be away for weeks, she’d whispered. Come to my chamber, and we will talk awhile.
His skin crawled at the memory of the woman. He had refused her unholy offer, but she’d been undeterred. Each day she’d brushed past him, and her coy smile had unnerved him.
He’d avoided her, but it had taken four years until he could touch a woman without thinking of Analise. Even now, he loathed the thought of her.
He passed by the open cellar entrance and walked into the Great Hall. His father was breaking his fast, along with several of the guests. Warrick was not among them, and he noted the absence of Rosamund de Beaufort as well. He knew his brother had been meeting the young maiden in secret, and he rather envied them.
There was no sign of Lianna anywhere, so he went to his sister to ask where she was. Joan took him aside and said, ‘She is preparing herself for the betrothal ceremony later.’
‘Did she receive the gowns and jewels I sent her?’ They were some of the gifts he would offer to her, as her bride price.
His sister nodded. ‘But Rhys, I worry about Lianna. I’ve never seen a woman so unhappy. She doesn’t belong here. And this betrothal...it isn’t fair to either of you.’
‘There is no longer a choice.’ After Lianna had offered herself to him, there was no going back. She could not wed anyone else.
He heard footsteps coming down the spiral stairs and was startled to see Lianna wearing the léine and colours of the MacKinnon clan. She wore her long red hair down across her shoulders, and her feet were bare.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Even wearing these clothes, she had a vivid beauty that startled him. She stopped before him and waited.
Forbidden Night with the Highlander Page 10
