His Woman

by Cosby, Diana

  Her lips parted, her eyes darkened with passion, inflaming him further.

  With his body aching for her, Duncan lowered his head to again taste, caress, inhale her woman’s scent that drove him insane. He wanted her like this, exposed before him without doubt, her desire splayed before him without regret.

  Need built inside him like a fanned flame as he skimmed his tongue across her silken skin. With each taste, he wanted more. With his every touch, he sought her complete abandonment. One he would have. Isabel, if truth be told, was an addiction he could not refuse.

  Slowly, he inched her flimsy gown away, relishing the pale skin exposed beneath the flickers of firelight. Soft curves framed within slender angles designed to lure, a body meant to seduce.

  Naked before him, he took in her every detail, his hands mirroring his visual path. With aching slowness, he followed her flat stomach, the curve of her hips, to the tumble of amber curls shielding her most prized possession.

  Beneath his touch, she inhaled deeply.

  He met her gaze, her tremulous smile he owed to a reaction of nerves. “You are beautiful,” he whispered.

  Redness stroked her cheeks in an inviting blend of hunger and innocence. “I think…”

  “Nay think, just feel.”

  On a soft breath, she nodded.

  “Feel me as I touch you. See how I want you so much my body trembles with the need of it.” With her watching him, he splayed the folds of her sultry mound to expose her, the warm essence of her pulsing against his fingers. Drawn by an elemental force, a need to claim her, he knelt and leaned forward to taste.

  “Duncan?”

  The quiver in her voice struck him as somehow odd, but a hand’s length from his goal, his mind was glazed with imagining the beauty their union would bring.

  Until he looked up and saw worry fragmented her brow.

  “Shhh,” he soothed. “Only pleasure will come.”

  “It…It is not that. I…”

  Coldness swept him. Did she think of Frasyer? Wish she were with him? Bedamned! He’d not be a stand-in for the man she wanted.

  Duncan jerked his hand away and stood. His entire body vibrated with anger.

  Her face blanched.

  The guilt carved within her face incensed him further. “Get dressed.”

  “What is wrong?” she asked, seemingly bewildered.

  He gave a harsh laugh. “As if you know not?”

  “I—”

  “Why do you hesitate when I touch you?” he asked, hating the question, the anger pouring through his voice, aware jealousy incited his words. But he had to ask, to know. “Why act the virgin with me when for the past three years, you have given yourself freely to Frasyer?”

  Amber eyes widened with horror. “I would never think of Frasyer when I am with you.”

  “That is something at least.” But doubts engulfed him, damning what should have been beautiful between them now a catastrophe. Duncan glared at her, stunned by what he’d almost done. So caught up in wanting to make love to her, for a moment he’d forgotten her betrayal. And for what, a meaningless romp? No, for him it had mattered. “Would you have slept with me?”

  She looked down. “Yes.”

  At her shame-laden reply, hurting, he was disgusted with himself that after everything, he could still want her. A fleeting hope came to mind. “After we have proven your father’s innocence, do not return to Frasyer.”

  Isabel blanched and turned away. “I cannot promise.”

  “Cannot or choose not to?”

  “You do not understand.”

  “An answer that seems to suit you often since I rescued you from Frasyer’s dungeon.”

  At his charge, she faced him then, her eyes wrought with pain, but determination as well. “Once you freed me from the dungeon, I did not ask you to stay.”

  “Nay,” he said, drawing himself to his full height. “You did not. And when this is all past, if you choose to return to Frasyer’s bed, a mistake I will not be making again.” Before he could make himself more the fool, he snatched her gown and shoved it toward her. “Dress yourself.”

  Isabel drew it against her nakedness like a shield, as if to hide what moments before she’d freely offered. She didn’t look at Duncan, and he found himself wanting her to. To lift her head and swear that Frasyer meant nothing to her. That it was always Duncan she’d wanted, that circumstances unknown to him guided her to walk away from her vow.

  She remained silent.

  A yell from outside caught their attention.

  Breaking away from the spell she wove, Duncan strode to the window and frowned. The distant groan of the drawbridge sounded as it was raised, followed by the clatter of chains on the portcullis. “A runner arrives. I pray it is with good news.”

  Her heart pounded as Isabel hurried to stand by his side as the single rider cantered across the narrow road leading to the castle, the bordering water on either side of the pathway frozen and dusted with snow.

  “Do you think he carries news of my father?”

  “Nay. With the past storm, our man will not return for at least another day. It is most likely a messenger whom we are expecting.” He gave her a sober look. “I must leave. Put on your gown and return to bed.” He paused as if debating his words. “I will be away from Lochshire Castle on the morrow, as well as my brothers. We will be gone but a day, two at most. You will be safe here.”

  Worry flickered on her face. “You have not fully healed. You need at least another day to rest.”

  “I will determine my needs,” he said sharply.

  With her body still throbbing with the desires he’d ignited, the fury in Duncan’s gaze was a chilling reminder of the cruel reality that stood between them. She wanted to urge him not to travel, to explain that her innocence this night hadn’t been an act, that it was always him she’d ever wanted.

  Then what?

  Warmth swirled around her like a cradle of hope. Trust him, a soft voice murmured in her mind.

  She wanted to, desperately. His every step away from her was tearing her apart.

  As he stormed from the chamber, Isabel could only watch as the last of her heart crumbled. The slap of the door echoed in his wake. Angry steps faded as he hurried down the stairs.

  Isabel closed her eyes, aching. Over the past three years, she’d convinced herself she could live the role she’d played of Frasyer’s mistress. Now, with Duncan’s touch still lingering upon her skin, his unspoken promises unfulfilled, she realized she was wrong.

  But how could she exit the role she’d chosen to play? To keep her father out of debtor’s prison, after she’d delivered the Bible, she must return to Frasyer. In that she had no choice. Now when she returned to Moncreiffe Castle, she would be even more aware of the cell he’d crafted within her chamber. A cruel imprisonment, one without bars, without love, a chamber offering only an empty life and promises of a cold future.

  Isabel tugged on her gown and stumbled to her bed. She crawled beneath the covers and curled into a ball. But she didn’t cry. She hurt too much, wanted Duncan too deeply to succumb to such a petty show of emotion.

  Pillowing her hands beneath her cheek, she stared at the faeries painted on the ceiling. Before they had seemed so close, as if she might reach up and touch them. Now they seemed distant, an elusive dream.

  Like her time with Duncan.

  Her attraction to him would always be strong. How could it not be? She loved him. She’d been a fool to believe she could remain with Duncan, even for a while, and resist.

  Though Seathan had forbade her to leave Lochshire Castle, with him as well as Nichola having already guessed she still loved Duncan, their knowledge of her feelings would lead to further trial. She must depart before she weakened and, God forbid, before she told Duncan the truth. Thankfully, Duncan was healing quickly if he planned to travel in the morning with his brothers. The way he’d stormed from her chamber moments ago attested to the fact.

  But then, how she could i
gnore Duncan’s request for her not to return to Frasyer? Tears built in her throat. How she’d wanted to say yes. Another dream lost.

  Resigned to her fate, Isabel slipped from the bed and walked to the window.

  The runner’s horse had cantered from beneath the gatehouse and had reined to a halt. The portcullis, as the drawbridge, remained up, which meant they expected the runner to depart in a short while.

  Her heart lurched. She could leave now. With the cover of darkness and the brothers preoccupied, the many hours before her absence was noticed would increase her odds of escape. And with them leaving the castle early on the morrow, it gave her another day before a search for her would begin.

  Oh, but Duncan would be angry. Still, he’d fulfilled his vow to Symon and she couldn’t endanger his life further. Otherwise the last three years of suffering at Frasyer’s side would have been for naught.

  She would find the Bible alone. She had no choice.

  A soft warmth brushed over her.

  Isabel whirled, expecting to find that a servant had entered while she was lost in her distress.

  The chamber stood empty.

  She scanned the room. Only the painted faeries above watched her. A shimmer to her right caught her attention. Within the bowl, the halved sapphire seemed to twinkle.

  Isabel frowned, remembering how the gem had appeared to glow when she’d first seen it.

  Drawn by a force she could not explain, she padded across the chamber. As she drew closer to the bowl, impossibly, the light from within the sapphire strengthened.

  A shiver skittered across her skin. She was imagining such. ’Twas moonlight reflecting off the gem. Yet, outside the window, night clung to the sky thick with clouds. Neither did the flames within the hearth reach this corner of the room.

  Her fingers trembled as she picked up the gem and held it within her palm. Warmth, then a soothing balm infused her, a gentleness she could not explain. Tears burned her eyes. She cradled the halved sapphire. If she could not have Duncan, with this gem, she would at least have a part of him.

  Wiping her eyes dry, she packed her belongings in a small sack, then carefully stowed the sapphire inside.

  A soft knock sounded on the door.

  Stuffing the few articles of clothing she had beneath the bed, she straightened the bed coverings, walked to the door and opened it.

  An older woman holding a tray of food bowed before her. “As you missed the evening meal, Sir Duncan asked me to bring you food.”

  “Please, set it on the table.”

  The woman frowned at her with motherly concern. “You are not feeling well?”

  “No.” ’Twas not a lie. Her sadness was not tied to her health, but the empty prospects of her life ahead, and her fear of failing to save her father’s life.

  “No doubt after your trauma this day.” The woman tsked. “The merchant should be hung. After spending time in the dungeon, he will be regretting his attempt to abduct you.”

  Numb, Isabel nodded, not wanting to think of today’s near capture. “If you please, do not wake me to break my fast. I have decided to sleep in.”

  The servant nodded. “The extra rest is needed with all the time you spent awake tending to Duncan.” The woman patted Isabel’s arm. “Nay trouble yourself further. You will be safe here.”

  Isabel remained silent. The option for safety on any level was long lost.

  Warm gray eyes sparkled as the servant patted Isabel on the arm. “Once you have eaten, you will sleep like a babe. And I will ensure you are not bothered in the morning.”

  “My thanks.”

  With a nod, the woman turned and left.

  Isabel waited several moments until she was sure the servant had left, then she hurried over and withdrew her sack stuffed with her garb from beneath the bed. She wrapped the food upon the tray and placed it inside as well. After adding another layer of clothing to help fortify her from the cold, she gathered her cloak. Thankful that with the hood pulled over her head it would shield her as would with the shadows, she left her chamber.

  With the castle bedded down for the night, Isabel slipped through the great hall with ease. Outside, she was thankful the blanket of clouds remained, casting the bailey of Lochshire Castle in myriad shadows.

  Still, she waited along the side of the steps to ensure no one had seen her leave. A gust of wind sent snow spiraling before her, slipping flakes beneath her cape and chilling her exposed skin. She tugged her wrap tighter.

  Able to again see, Isabel kept close to the bailey wall, her steps on the newly fallen snow cautious. At least the gusty wind would erase her tracks.

  The shuffle of horses and smothered voices raised in terse tones echoed from the stable. The door to the keep opened and Duncan, Seathan, and Alexander strode from the entry and headed to where the runner waited.

  She flattened herself against the curtain wall. Please don’t see me.

  Caught up in meeting with the messenger and in deep discussion, the brothers strode past her.

  Isabel sagged against the cold stone. Thank God.

  At the entrance to the stable, Duncan paused and glanced toward the tower where he believed her asleep.

  Her heart squeezed. What were his thoughts? Of anger and frustration, or did he regret their intimacy?

  With his frown captured in the flicker of torchlight, Duncan turned and joined his brothers already speaking in harsh tones with the runner.

  Steadying herself, Isabel focused on her escape. Satisfied that everyone was occupied with the runner’s arrival, she hurried toward the gatehouse. With one last look around the bailey, she stole into the darkened tunnel.

  At the drawbridge, she squinted against the darkness and the blowing snow. Across the ice bordering either side of the road, she barely made out the snow-covered field that disappeared into the bordering forest. She saw no sign of either Seathan’s or Frasyer’s men.

  As if, between the night and the blowing snow covering the moon, she could discern any threat. If her absence had been discovered, with visibility poor, odds were anyone searching for her this late would miss her as well.

  After a quick prayer, Isabel scurried down the side of the bank, keeping to the shadows along the side of the road.

  Wind tugged at her clothes, bit at her exposed skin as she trekked along the narrow path. On shore, after one look around, she sprinted across the meadow. At the edge of the tall pines, she looked one last time at Lochshire Castle. Sadness embraced her. With a hard swallow, Isabel turned and disappeared into the forest.

  Chapter 12

  The howl of wind roared above the treetops as Duncan guided his mount down a steep embankment. Though shielded from the bitter wind and the lash of snow, once he broke free of the forest, the hard flakes would assault him.

  He tucked his gloved hands holding the reins deeper into the folds of his cloak. Thankfully, after he crossed the stretch of field and the road straddling a portion of the loch ahead, his journey would be over.

  As he rode beneath a leafless oak, sunlight splintered through the branches, tossed about with an unforgiving force. At least daylight was with him. After sunset, any semblance of warmth would be smothered by the night. He shivered as he navigated around a large fir, careful to keep his mount near the bare ground carved by wind swirling around the base of the trees.

  Already his body ached from riding hard this day. Against his brothers’ cautions, he’d ridden with them at the break of dawn to meet with Wallace. Afterward, he had left while Seathan and Alexander remained to work out details of an upcoming rebel siege.

  The hard ride had taken its toll on him and irritated his freshly healed injuries. Not that he would admit it. However, neither the arduous travel, nor the dangers of having slipped passed Frasyer’s men upon his return had kept thoughts of Isabel from his mind.

  An image of her standing naked before him in the tower chamber, regret darkening her amber eyes while her body was still taut from his touch, haunted him.

&nb
sp; Even now, with almost a day past since they’d almost made love, her intent to return to Frasyer left him baffled. Isabel’s uninhibited response to his touch and the intensity of how she’d returned his kisses assured him that she desired him. Yet, she was determined to return to a man who had cast her into his dungeon. A sword’s wrath. What other atrocities had she suffered beneath the bastard’s hands that she so obviously lived in fear of Frasyer’s displeasure?

  His each breath spiraled before him, then vanished within the bluster of wind. Had another man told Duncan such a story of a lass’s decision to return to such a cruel lover, he would have dismissed it as a tale long told. But it was true, and the idea of her returning to Frasyer tore him apart.

  One would think when it came to Isabel, he would have learned that power and wealth drew her, power that Frasyer held, not the meager earnings of a knight. Yet, after their heated kiss, he couldn’t stop the resounding belief that something was deeply amiss.

  And why had Symon shared rebel movements with Frasyer’s lover? Aye, she was Symon’s sister, but he’d witnessed his friend’s shame when Isabel’s name was mentioned after she’d become Frasyer’s mistress. Neither could he forget Lord Caelin’s subsequent withdrawal from the community upon his daughter’s disgraceful choice.

  Though her family obviously disagreed with her actions, not only had they met with her in secret, but they had also revealed rebel secrets that none close to an enemy’s camp should ever have knowledge of.

  Yet she had, in chilling detail.

  Regardless of how Duncan tried to find logic in the facts, his musings crafted a tangled puzzle. If only he could speak with Symon, ask him what the devil was going on. He curled the reins within his hand and glared at the snow-covered road stretching out before him. Until they freed Lord Caelin, he would have no answers, especially because Isabel, for whatever her reason, refused to speak on the subject.

  He rode in the break between the thick firs, and a field blanketed by snow opened up before him. Framed within the frozen grasp of the lake, Lochshire Castle, Duncan’s home since his youth, rose up before him, a majestic stronghold that none had ever breeched. But stone and mortar held little defense against the thoughts in his mind.