by Stobie Piel
"I'll slice her to quarters if she comes near me."
Miren chuckled. Not a delicate woman's giggle, but a solid, devious cackle. "Good." She tapped her lip with one finger. "Still . . . one might learn from Lady Sarah, I should think."
"Learn what?"
Miren turned to him, looking practical. Her most dangerous expression. "You said she intended to 'pleasure you' at Lady MacCallum's garden party."
"Keep your voice down, woman."
Miren glanced around. "No one is listening. Now, I was thinking . . ."
Nathan held his breath. If this was leading where he thought it was leading . . . He swallowed hard. "What did you have in mind?"
"She must have intended to take you someplace relatively private, quickly accessible, yet with just enough room for . . .
pleasuring." Miren moved a little closer to him, snapped up a fan he hadn't noticed she possessed, and spoke behind it. "I noticed a closet which I believe houses linen and tools for housemaids."
"When did you"
"When I excused myself earlier." Miren puffed a quick breath. "I was hunting a wee bit for a suitable spot. And I found it. There's room enough for two . . ."
Nathan stared down at her, mouth agape. He tried to speak, and failed.
Miren closed her fan and slipped her hand onto his arm. "I have noticed that couples take walks. Beyond the ballroom is a balcony. I'm sure it's very pleasantit looks down over Oban and the harbor. Let's go that way."
Nathan placed his hand over hers. "Why that way?"
"Because just beyond, easily reached, is the housemaids' closet."
His sporran fell in the right spot to conceal his burgeoning arousal. "There's a use to these clothes, after all." Nathan led Miren from the ballroom, along a narrow walkway lined with white columns, to a wide balcony.
Several other couples gazed out over Oban toward the sea. Lady Sarah sipped punch as her marquess pointed out important homes along the hillside. She looked bored and cast a hungry look toward Nathan.
Miren placed her small gloved hands on the balcony and leaned forward, breathing in the sweet evening air. The sun cast its final light over the harbor, glinting a pale light on her lovely face. A soft breeze released a tendril of her hair to blow across her cheek. Nathan fingered the loose strand and tucked it behind her ear. He trailed his fingers to the back of her neck, and she closed her eyes.
Tonight he felt sure of success. Tomorrow, with the duke's help, his brother's murder would be resolved. His nephew's inheritance would be assured. If the danger to Miren passed . . . I love you. He couldn't let her leave. He wasn't sure whenhe'd realized this, but since they'd stood by the loch together, the direction of his thoughts had changed.
He hadn't told her, because he hadn't been sure his plan would work. Tonight nothing seemed difficult. He would expose Brent as a murderer, install his nephew as MacCallum's heir, and tell Miren he wanted her with him. Always.
Miren turned around and leaned against the balcony. She reached up and fingered his hair, just enough to see that he still wore his earring. "You wore this for me, didn't you?"
"What do you think?"
She rested her hand on his chest. "It has the most curious effect. It reminds me I'm making love with a pirate"Miren's hand slid to his belt, and she fingered his sporran"and a Scottish laird."
"All at once?" His voice came raw and strained. Miren smiled.
"All at once."
She took his hand and led him casually along the balcony. Nathan's heart beat so fast he felt dizzy. Lady Sarah ignored her marquess as they passed by, watching suspiciously as Miren gestured to the far hall. "That way."
Miren smiled politely at Lady Sarah and the marquess. "Pleasant evening, isn't it?" She didn't wait for a response as she led Nathan from the balcony. "This way." She led him down the dark hall, then stopped by a small door. She looked both ways, then shoved it open. ''In there."
"As you wish." Nathan entered the linen closet, and Miren followed.
"It's too dark. I can't see a thing." She bumped into what sounded like a bucket and sighed. "This is unacceptable. Wait here!"
Before he could respond, Miren darted from the closet and scurried down the hall. He wondered what he'd do if someone cornered her for conversation, but she returned holding aloft a lantern. "I took it from the balcony."
Nathan stood back as she entered the closet and closed thedoor. She hung the lamp on a hook, then turned to face him. "I've planned this, you know."
"I can see that."
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry about the bucket. I expect Lady Sarah wouldn't knock over a bucket." She looked down and winced. "Oh, dear. It looks like ashes from a fireplace. All over your shoes."
"Easily cleaned, beloved."
Miren squeezed around him. Something clattered and fell to the floor. "Oh. Mops." She sounded pained. "I expect Lady Sarah would have chosen a better closet."
Nathan watched her as she fumbled around, her bustle knocking mops and brushes from hooks. "Now, what's that?" Miren bent with effort and picked up a large, feathered duster. She swung it around into Nathan's face. He sneezed.
"It's all right . . ." He paused to sneeze again. Several times. Miren clasped her hands at her waist, fighting tears.
"I'm sorry." She spotted something on his cheek and brushed it away. "A feather."
Nathan seized the feather and stuck it in his hair. "A pirate, a laird . . . and an Indian chief . . ."
A tiny smile grew on her lips, then widened until she burst forth in laughter. "All at once."
Nathan eased her into his arms. "I love you."
Her eyes widened in shock, but Nathan didn't wait for a response. He bent and kissed her. Not a kiss of lust in a dark closet, but tender, with his full heart in her hands. Miren wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close against him. She drew back and kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his neck.
"You are so beautiful, Indian. Do you know, I've begun dreaming of this?"
"I thought you were dreaming of Highlanders."
"Ah, but the dreams take a new turn." Miren backed away, her eyes shining. She pushed him against the door and ranher hands down his hips. "I dreamt I took you prisoner, and whatever I asked, you gave."
She opened his wee claymore pin and stuck it in the back of a brush. She kept her eyes on his as she parted the kilt and slipped her hand beneath. The soft lantern-glow lit her beautiful, eager face as her small fingers met his hardened staff. Her eyelids lowered and her lips parted as her hand closed around him.
Nathan gripped her shoulders and brushed his mouth over hers. He tasted her lower lip, then the upper, then dipped his tongue between her teeth. Her hand moved with greater urgency as he explored her sweet mouth. He felt her wild pulse, he knew she trembled with anticipation.
"Nathan . . ." She paused to gasp for air. "What do we do now?"
"What's expected in a closet, my love. I pleasure you to the limits of your endurance."
"Oh!"
He sank to one knee, took her hand, and kissed it gently. She waited for him to rise, but Nathan knelt before her instead. Her skirts were convenient for his purposes. The overskirt parted, leaving less fabric between them. He lifted her underskirt and petticoat, but his breath caught when he realized that she, too, abandoned drawers.
"You did plan this, didn't you?"
She took a quick breath. "Not exactly this."
He bunched the front of her underskirt with the petticoat in one hand, then ran his other hand up along her legs. He trailed his fingers over the rim of her stocking, to the soft curls hidden between her legs. Very gently, he kissed the soft inner flesh of her thighs.
"Nathan, I'm not sure this is what's done in closets . . . Do you think . . .?"
He looked up at her. Her face was flushed, her lips puffy and parted for shallow gasps. "Miren . . . the matter is settled."
She leaned back against the wall. Something fell. A dustpan. Miren edged it aside with her foot, as if hopin
g he wouldn't notice. His heart filled with such power that he thought he might fly and carry her with him.
He ran his finger up one thigh, down the other, grazing her soft curls without pressure. He bent closer and allowed her to feel his breath on her tender flesh. She must have, because a muted gasp escaped her lips. He glanced up to see her biting her lip.
"To the limits of your endurance, my sweet, precious angel. Hold still."
Miren was obedient. She didn't move, but her slender calf muscles tensed, her toes curled beneath her soft leather slippers. He brushed his mouth across her woman's mound, then dipped his tongue inward to her sensitized core. He found the small bud within, and a tiny squeak came from her throat.
"What are . . . oh . . . settled." She gulped and maintained silence. He tasted her, sweet like light honey. He teased her and her whole body tensed. The tiny bud came erect, fierce and willing, and he sucked gently, then harder when she whimpered his name.
He swirled his tongue in intricate patterns until she moaned and pushed back against the wall. Her knees quivered, her fingers clasped in his hair. His name came on every breath. "Pirate . . ." He lightened his touch and stroked gently. "Indian." He grazed her sensitive peak with his teeth. ''My laird, och, my laird." Her words trailed into something he didn't understand. Low, rhythmic Gaelic words, driven with intensity.
He didn't know what she said, but he knew what it meant. All her Highlander blood, with its fire and determination, and the Lowlander, with its stubborn practicality, soared to fullness as he made love to her. He licked and sucked and teased until she cried out, oblivious to their surroundings. One leg arched and wrapped around his back. Her whole body quivered. Her small peak throbbed, and she twisted and writhed as ecstasy swept through her.
Nathan's blood burned, his body ached for fulfillment, but he waited until she reached her first peak of rapture. She tugged his hair, and he rose to his feet, pressing her against the wall as he pulled back his kilt.
He was beyond readiness, filled to his limits. He grasped her leg and pulled it up to his hip, then drove himself deep inside her. Her pleasure surged and doubled with his entry. Her inner depths squeezed around his shaft, tiny spasms rippled through her where their pulses mingled.
He lifted her from her feet, and she wrapped her legs tight around his waist. He thrust upward and she tipped her head back, lost in pleasure. His release came with shuddering force, over and over, until he had nothing left. Every nerve ending vibrated in the aftermath.
Miren's legs slid down beside his and she balanced on her toes. He withdrew from her body and held her. She buried her head on his chest. When she looked up, she was smiling, but her cheeks were wet with tears. All they were had met in passion. Nothing stood between them now.
He started to speak, but she pressed her fingers against his mouth. "There's no need. This is perfect between us. I will never, never forget."
Never forget? A cold wash sank over Nathan's heart. She believed he would send her away, that they'd never see each other again.
"Nathan! Laird MacCallum! Are you about?"
Miren caught her breath. "That's the duke!"
Nathan groaned. "I hope he's not in the mood for talking."
Miren giggled. "He's always in the mood for a chat."
Nathan adjusted his kilt, and Miren hurriedly replaced his pin. She straightened her dress and ran her hand over her hair. "Do I look . . . ravaged?"
Nathan took the lantern and held it near her face. "You look . . . satisfied."
"Oh, dear." Miren lowered the lamp and it went out, leaving them in darkness.
"Laird MacCallum?" The duke's voice came from farther down the hall. They heard him walk back toward the balcony, and Nathan eased open the door.
"There are stairs at this end of the balcony. If we can get there, we'll say we went for a walk."
Miren nodded, and they slipped from the closet. They reached the stairs unnoticed, and Nathan positioned himself as if they'd just come up.
"Your Grace! Did I hear you calling me?"
The duke turned, beaming with his usual pleasure. "There you are! I've been searching you out all over!"
"My fiancée and I went for a walk. Miren especially enjoyed the gardens."
"Ah, the rhododendrons! Brought over from northeastern America, you know. Your own part of the world . . ."
"You were looking for me, Your Grace?"
"Quite. I'm afraid I have to drag you away from your lovely bride-to-be, Nathaniel. Matter of"the duke paused and smacked his lips as if broaching a delicate subject"import. I'll have my coachman drive her back to your inn. She'll be safe. You have my word."
Nathan turned to Miren and took her hand, then kissed it. "I'm sorry, Miren. I may be late."
Miren nodded, but he saw her disappointment. "I had a lovely evening."
Nathan smiled. "As did I."
Lady Sarah and the marquess were seated at the far end of the balcony. They rose and joined the duke. Lady Sarah scanned Nathan's appearance thoroughly, her lips parted in recognition of his most recent activity.
"Your kilt pin, Laird MacCallum, is asunder."
Miren gazed down at Nathan's kilt, disingenuous wonder on her small, flushed face. "That's odd. I could have sworn it was on straight when we went for our walk."
Chapter Seventeen
The young mistress returned alone to our room last night. She seemed happy, but once she lay on the bed awhile, she began to cry. I offered comfort by licking her face, and she hugged me, but she didn't stop crying.
Something is wrong, and I don't know what it is. She woke early, at dawn. I am not pleased with rising from one's cushion early, but this morning I went to her side. She was staring out the window, with special attention to the water coaches. I am becoming suspicious of that sort of coach, that which floats on water. I am not a water dog, for one thing. Also, viewing them makes my mistress sad. I must keep her away from them.
Still, the situation here is favorable to my needs. I have a fine cushion, with tassels that are adequate for chewing purposes. Excitement fills the air. People are in a festive mood.
From our window I spotted the huge, lavish coach that bore the queen back at the estate. Through its windows, which have fine curtains, I saw two of her house pets. The smaller terrierhad a bow. I am still not entirely sanguine on that bow. I must assess its desirability at a later point in time.
Miren woke early, but Nathan hadn't returned to the inn. Her new trunks contained a fashionable outdoor dress with a plumed bonnet and matching gloves. She put on the dress and checked herself in the looking glass. The black velvet coat fit snugly over her bodice and flared over her bustle. Fortunately, the bustle used beneath a day dress was less bulky than evening wear.
"I can sit in the coach. Good." Her burgundy outer skirt was tied back, revealing an inner skirt of black satin. Three burgundy bows tied the skirt behind her feet. Miren removed one and tied it around Molly's neck.
"You're very beautiful, Molly." Molly looked proud. Miren patted her head and went to look out the window. Coaches were already heading south through town on their way to the Games.
A knock startled her from the window, but it was Glenna who entered, Nat close beside her. "I've brung yer breakfist, miss." Glenna cackled and set the tray on a polished table. "I thought you'd want to avoid breakfasting with Her Ladyship in the dining room, so here's a good kipper and toast."
Nat pointed at a pot. "Tea, too. I like tea." He eyed the cups with longing. Miren smiled and poured three cups, one very low. She filled Nat's with milk, and they seated themselves around the table.
Miren eyed the kipper, but her appetite had dwindled to nothing. Glenna shook her head. "Are you sure, dear? You must eat."
"I'm not very hungry, thank you." Miren took a dutiful sip of tea, but her stomach felt tight and uneasy.
"Very well." Glenna seized the kipper and divided it between herself and Nat. "The Iroquois do wonderful things with squash and beans, but they kn
ow next to nothing about salted fish."
Nat tasted his kipper, grimaced, and turned to the toast, loading it high with red currant preserves. "Where's Uncle?"
"I don't know. He had to go with the duke."
Glenna set aside her kipper and drank her tea. "Simon was here this morning. He says Nathan and the duke are staging their men, readying themselves to corner Mr. Edgington. Men can be so high-strung."
Miren sighed. "I wonder if Brent's really coming to the Games at all."
"According to Simon, he arrived last night. Late. He is dining with Lady MacCallum now. Another reason for you to eat up here."
"Is Nathan coming to take us to the Games?"
Glenna hesitated. "Simon is accompanying us, but Nathaniel will meet us there. Lady MacCallum is going early, to situate herself near the queen. There will be a large crowd, naturally."
"If she knew Brent's fate, she'd head home now."
Glenna chuckled. "I only met the lad briefly. He seemed ineffectual, but it will please me to see Irene set back a peg. Do you know, this morning she instructed me to keep my lips together?" Glenna opened her mouth and pointed to her blackened tooth. "It offends her." Glenna clucked her tongue. "And after all the work I took getting it to look this way."
Miren's spirits rose with Glenna's presence. "I will miss you, Glenna. I don't remember my mother, but I think she was just like you."
"Cora and I used to pretend we were twins. Those were sweet days. You remind me of her quite closely, Miren. She was a practical girl, because she was a Lowlander. Yet she had such an imagination! We used to go on long expeditions in search of the Wee Folk. But I knewI had a fairy with me all along. Cora carried their blood quite strongly. As do you."
"The Wee Folk have powers, they say. To make wishes come true."
"I called on them often. It takes a while, but wishes have power." Glenna gazed toward the window, up into the blue sky. "Before I married Kenneth, I had no fear. I thought I was lucky to become a laird's wife. I learned better soon."
"When he learned you and my mother had switched places?"
"Before our wedding, I confessed that Cora eloped with your father. I believed Kenneth would understand. Even laugh."
