He turned back to his brother and Wyntoun, but she was back up on the dais in an instant. Her eyes shone with desire, and when the wench leaned provocatively over the table, her breasts nearly toppled out of the blouse. William looked quickly away from her creamy white bosom. But at the feel of her long fingers seductively stroking the back of his hand, he very nearly leaped out of his chair as he pulled his arms away.
“Molly!” He tried to keep his voice low. “There are a great many men here who would think this Christmas was the finest feast ever if you would turn your attentions to them for a moment or two.”
“I came here tonight only because of you, Will,” she cooed meaningfully, rolling her mane of hair to one side and giving him a clear view of the smooth skin of her neck. She brushed a hand over her breasts. “And I know of some Christmas apples that are feeling very neglected.”
William quirked a halfsmile. It was comforting to know that her efforts were doing nothing to excite his blood. “You are a lusty wench, to be sure, Molly. But I’ll not be handling those again...on any holiday.”
A pout tugged at her full lips. “But you sent word that you’d be stopping in to see me. I’ve been waiting.”
“Well, wait no longer, lass. I am a married man now, and you’ll grow old and gray waiting for me.”
She gave a hearty laugh and leaned farther down on the table, reaching to touch his face. He pushed her hand away, his face darkening. “Nay. You go to far now.”
A look of anger flashed in her eyes, but she quickly restrained it. “You’re too much of a man to be satisfied with one wee English stripling.” She picked up the cup of ale before William and lifted it to her lips before pressing it between her breasts. “You may not be straying this night, but I’ll be keeping the laird’s cup full for you at the tavern.”
“Do as you please, lass,” William said seriously, “But know this. I’m a changed man, and ‘twould be good for all if you were to turn those eyes of yours on some other deserving lad.”
“You mean it, then?” A look of perplexity crept over her face. “You’ve truly fallen for this woman?”
“Aye, Molly,” he said earnestly. “I have.”
Wyntoun’s elbow nudged him in the ribs, and William followed his gaze. In the doorway by the stairwell, Laura stood like a queen, watching him.
“For the first time in my life, lass. I have fallen entirely in love.”
******
Laura waited until the woman stepped down from the dais and rejoined the dancers in the center of the Great Hall. It had to be Molly.
Then she stepped back into the shadows of the stairwell as tears of anger stung her eyes. A quiet fury burned in her throat.
A possessiveness took hold of her with a power and suddenness that stunned her. Jealousy laced her blood with fire, and as she watched Peter’s Wife pass the entry to the stairwell, a plan flashed in her mind, driving out all other thoughts.
In an instant she had Peter’s Wife by the hand and was pulling the diminutive woman from the Hall.
******
One moment she was standing by the stairwell, the next she had disappeared. William was considering going in search of his wife when he spotted her re-entering the Great Hall and crossing quickly to their chambers with something folded in her hands.
From the looks of things, the rosy-faced dancers were going to continue all night, and several of the pipers appeared to be competing as to who could get the drunkest and still play an identifiable tune. Clan Ross was in the high glee of the season, and William was really quite happy about it. Aside from the dancing and drinking and eating, card playing and wrestling and a spirited game of hot cockles were taking place in various parts of the Great Hall, and if the revelers didn’t burn the place down, the Christmas celebration would be off to a very good start.
William was glad that merriment had at last returned to Blackfearn Castle, but his thoughts were drawn to other things right now. An image of Laura readying herself for bed pushed itself into his mind, creating a stirring of his loins that was not to be ignored. Like the geese traveling south for the winter, William knew where he belonged, and the prospect of another night in the warmth of her arms lured him quickly out of his chair. With a wave of good night to the jolly assembly, the Ross headed for his chambers.
Inside their chambers he closed the heavy oak door behind him, but was surprised to find she was not already abed. The door to his work room was ajar, however, and his brow furrowed with mild irritation at the thought that she was working this late.
“Laura?” He took a step toward the separating door.
“Wait, I’ll be right out. Just give me a moment.”
He sighed, the furrow smoothing. This was his Laura, always planning something. His life would never be dull, he thought. What a changed life spread out before him. So different from the dreary one he had so long imagined for himself. Taking off his shoes, he removed his shirt and crossed to the hearth, stacking more blocks of peat on the fire for the night.
And he was a changed man, William thought with great satisfaction. The enjoyment he got out of spending time with his wife--of talking to her not just about her plans, but about his plans for Blackfearn Castle, for the crofters--aye, that was surely a sign of it.
His plans! He had to smile at himself. The lass had wrapped herself around his heart, his body, and his mind. Whatever she had done to him, he knew it was a blessing. She was a precious gift that he wasn’t going to jeopardize by fooling with any wench like Molly...or with any other woman, for that matter. He’d had his fill of the others. Laura was everything that he needed now. For today, for tomorrow, and for eternity, as far as he could see of it.
But there was still an eel in the stew, poisoning it. His past.
She deserved to know. Aye, he thought, she deserved to know. And despite his fears regarding what would come of it, he knew that one day he would have to trust his heart and reveal the truth of his past to her. She was his wife. She had a right to know. And though the danger of losing her, of losing her affection, still lurked in his mind, he knew he had no choice. She had to know him as he was, as he had been. Perhaps then, with time, she would forgive him and grow to love him as he so desperately loved her.
A shadow in the passageway into his work room drew William's gaze. Suddenly, he found that his throat had gone dry.
Laura--dressed only in a very small, very gauzy shift--leaned against the doorframe. The translucent slip of material reached only her mid-thigh, and William’s eyes caressed the smooth skin of her leg, rising to where the dim light behind her shone through the sheer garment, emphasizing the enticing curve of her hip. His eyes lingered over every inch, imprinting in his mind the sight. Slowly, his gaze ascended to where her breasts--with the dark, hard nipples standing out against the material--threatened to spill out over the top of the low neckline.
He let out a long breath and rose slowly to his feet. “Where did you get this thing?”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up higher.
“Peter’s Wife.”
She had unbraided her black mane of hair and brushed it to one side. William's eyes traveled down the ivory stretch of her beautiful neck, down again to her breasts. A slight pull on the fabric and the delicate rose-colored peaks would spill out, he was quite sure. Quite hopeful, in fact. He moved closer to her and saw her violet eyes darken with excitement.
“And what inspired my bonny wife to seek out such an irresistible torment for me?”
He came to a stop a breath away. He ran a slow finger from her ear down the smooth stretch of her neck.
“Since coming to Blackfearn...” He heard the catch in her throat as he let his finger lightly trace the top of one breast. “...I--I’ve been hearing all this talk of Peter never being able to refuse anything of his wife.”
“Do you think I could possibly refuse you anything, my own enchantress?”
“What I am about to ask is too important.”
His finger traced the neckline of the garment. His fingertips slid downward slightly, across the material. He smiled as her nipple rose even farther at his touch. He looked up and found her lips apart, her eyes watching the movement of his hand.
“You were saying?” he asked hoarsely. William lowered his head, and he pulled the material of the shift with his teeth. Her breast sprang free, and her breath came out in a quick gasp as his tongue flicked one nipple.
“I cannot...I cannot think.”
His arms were around her now, and he felt her quivering with excitement. He drew her into the chamber and leaned her back against the closest wall. Pulling the hem of the shift up, he slid two fingers into the moist cleft between her legs.
“Tell me what ‘tis that you desire, love?”
Her body continued to tremble. Her lips parted. Her violet eyes, clouded with passion, stared into his own.
“Tell me, Laura,” he whispered, his lips a breath away, his fingers continuing to stroke the sensitive spot, pleasuring her. Her head dropped back against the paneled wall, and he looked at the blood pulsing at the base of her throat. It seemed to match the hammering pace of his own heart. “I’d give my life for you. ‘Tis yours for the asking.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but then shook her head and again leaned back against the wall as her breaths started coming in ragged gasps. He stopped his questions as she rose higher and higher. He continued to hold her tightly to him, teasing, stroking, watching as she writhed blissfully in his arms. Finally, she cried out at the pleasure of her release.
He wanted to take his time. When the time was right, he thought, enjoying the moment, he would carry her to the bed and have her tell him what she wanted before taking her.
But her wandering hands, moving down his chest and still farther down, found his manhood bulging beneath the kilt, and soon his thinking became a thing of the past.
This time it was William who found himself growing short of breath and his whisper growing hoarse as she ran her hand the length of him, kneading him and stroking him through the wool.
“So,” he forced out, “are we done with your talk?”
Laura lifted the front of his kilt and touched his bare skin.
“Later,” she purred breathlessly. “There is a great deal that I need to tell you later.”
He lifted her off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Later,” he agreed, groaning with pleasure as he guided his manhood into her. Rocking in his arms, she took in his full length and cried out at the sensation.
“There is much I have to say as well,” he panted, lifting her again and again, and driving into her with powerful strokes. “Later.”
******
The rollicking pandemonium of the festivities reaching them from the Great Hall was beginning to abate. Laura knew that most of the household was already asleep. Though from the far off sound of bagpipes and singing, some of the revelers had simply taken the merriment out in the direction of the castle’s stables.
In their chambers, however, the fiery passion of their repeated lovemaking hung over the two of them like a golden cloud. Warm and glowing, Laura nestled in her husband’s arms, her head pressed tightly against the musculature of his chest in the huge bed.
She listened to the strong beat of his heart. Felt his warm, contented breath caressing her forehead. She smelled his musky man scent. She tightened her hold around his waist and tried to fight back the raw emotions that were battering her insides. A single tear slipped out of her eye and dripped onto his bare chest. His hand immediately dipped under her chin and lifted her face. She found herself looking into the blue eyes that had become her salvation.
“What is it, Laura?”
She didn’t trust her voice, so she just stared at him with all the love that she had for him.
“What is it, love?”
At his term of endearment, more treacherous tears escaped their confinement, making their way down her face. He rolled her onto her back and moved next to her, holding her chin, kissing away the tears on her cheeks. Tenderly, he kissed her lips.
“Talk to me, Laura.”
“This--this is the second time you’ve used that word.”
His face registered his perplexity, and she used the back of her hand to stroke his cheek. So rough to the touch. So manly in his beauty.
“The word "love." ‘Tis--‘tis a beautiful word.”
A gentle smile broke out on his perfect lips. “You’re crying because I spoke out what I feel for you in my heart?”
She nodded and then shook her head before the meaning of what he’d said sank into her confused mind. “Your heart? Do you--do you really mean what you just said?”
“You know that.” He nodded, continuing to look into her eyes. “But tell me, Laura. This is not what is tormenting you. A while back, when I first returned to the chamber, there was something you wanted to tell me.”
She looked away, trying to gather her courage. The shift she’d gotten from Peter’s Wife lay on the floor by the bed. William’s tartan, recklessly cast away, lay in a pile beside it. His gentle touch to her chin brought her eyes back to his, and she knew she had to speak.
“Last night I borrowed that--that shift from Peter’s Wife after I saw you in the Great Hall with Molly.”
He immediately raised himself on his elbows. “Laura, that--”
She put her fingers to his lips. “I understand, William. You told me before. You are a man. A very handsome man who has needs.”
His brow raised in confusion. “You mean you want me to have other women?”
“Only if you have a wish for an early death.” She frowned at him. “I put that...that shift on. I presented myself to you as I imagined Molly might expose herself to you. And I did it...well, to teach you a lesson.”
“A lesson?” he repeated as an amused glint crept into his eyes.
She pushed him onto his back and lay on top of him, crossing her arms over his chest and glaring down at him.
“Aye, a lesson. A lesson that whatever...whatever needs you might have can be met by your wife. A lesson about love and faithfulness since, by all the saints, William Ross, I love you too much to allow anyone else to come to your bed.”
A smile broke out on his lips. A hand came up to cup her face, but she pushed it away.
“Stay put and let me finish. You do not wish me to be rough with you.”
“Is that so?”
She pushed herself back onto her knees. Drawing the bedclothes around her, she scowled fiercely at him. A soft gleam shone in his eyes.
Laura’s face grew serious. “But this is about more than just Molly. Much more. Be it my life, of yours, or Miriam’s, I understand that I cannot change the past. In my own case, you’ve helped me to build a new life. My father is dead at the hands of the English king. My family has been separated, possibly for the rest of our lives. But you have given me your family, a new family. You have given me purpose and have taken away the nightmares. And for that I will be forever thankful. But as far as your past is concerned...”
She stopped, seeing the dark frown forming on his face. But she had to continue.
“I am not Mildred. And as much as I might try, I cannot be Mildred any more than I can be Molly. I can be no one but myself.” He sat up abruptly in the bed, and she felt that old stab of jealousy in her heart. “I know I cannot stop you from loving her. I realize that I may be forever fighting the memory of your true love.”
“True love?” There was so much loathing in those simple words. But she pushed on. She had to finish.
“William, all I am telling you is that I promise not to dwell on what is past. Not to mention it even, ever again. But as far as the present...the thought of sharing you with someone else. That is something I will not do. I--”
A soft knock on the door drew both of their eyes to the door.
“Go away!” he thundered. The knock, even more tentative than before, came again. Laura crept discreetly beneath the bed
clothes as William, cursing under his breath, picked up his kilt and wrapped it quickly around his waist as he marched to the door.
She heard the quavering voice of Robbie, the stable lad who had taken to watching over Miriam, but she could not make out his words. William’s gruff “Aye, lad. You’ve done well” was clear enough, though, and a moment later, Laura saw her husband close the door and pick up his shirt.
“Something is wrong,” she said, starting to rise from the bed.
“Stay where you are,” he said, dressing. “Some of my men have decided to take the horses out and run them in the night. Edward sent the lad for me.”
“What?”
“St. Stephen’s Day! The drunken fools decided to get an early start on it. Some folk believe that if you run a horse near to death and then bleed it, the blasted creature will have good health for the coming year. ‘Tis all nonsense.”
“And where are you going?”
“I cannot very well let them kill themselves or my horses, tearing about the countryside on a moonless night.”
Laura watched him move gracefully to the door. His dark scowl made him look fierce in the light of the guttering candles. She understood that it would always be like this. He would always act on the compassion he felt for those he cared about.
He stopped at the door and half turned to her. “We are not finished discussing what is past.”
“Nay, William. We are finished with the past,” she called softly. “The present and the future. That is what we have now.”
He shook his head and frowned as he jerked open the door.
CHAPTER 25
It took hours to round up the men and horses. It hadn’t been difficult finding them, loud and drunk as they were. But the icy mix of sleet and rain had stung his face and soaked him through in no time, and he had to force down the foul mood that had enveloped him. After all, he told himself as he herded his boisterous band of warriors back toward the castle, this was all just another part of the damned festivities.
The Enchantress Page 27
