When he pushed suddenly to his feet, Kenna jumped.
“We must dress for dinner,” he said, reaching toward the bedside table for a package she hadn’t seen. “I’ve a dress for you. I’ll leave you to your privacy.”
Though she held out her hands, he set the twine-wrapped material on the edge of the bed, avoiding her touch. Before she could ask him anything more, he slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind him.
He was a demon and a murderer…and he was her only protection in this place. Kenna’s mind spun with helpless confusion.
Chapter Five
“Stay by my side,” he said as Kenna laid her hand gingerly on his arm. Her mind still shook with dismay at the story he’d told her an hour before. As they descended toward the roar of the great hall of Stirling Castle, she wanted to pull him aside and pelt him with more questions about the horror he’d lived through. But more than that, she wanted to know nothing more about it, ever.
And when she stole glances at MacLain, she wished she’d never asked. His face had changed. It was stiff now, as if something in him would break if he smiled. Fifty years had fallen away with the telling of the story, and now he seemed to be back in that place of death and guilt.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. He glanced down at her impassively, as if he knew what she spoke of and had no interest.
Then they were in the hall, and Kenna’s eyes were too busy taking in the crowd to watch MacLain.
She’d never seen so many people. Hundreds of people, all of them dressed in bright layers of clothing and furs and jewels.
When she’d unfolded the length of blue velvet he’d left her, she’d been thankful. Now she was doubly so. Only the servants wore brown or gray, and the serving girls here looked even more harried than she had been at the inn.
As she watched, a fat gentleman with gold-puffed sleeves reached for a young girl passing. Her mouth became an O of shock as he pulled her into his lap and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.
“Do not let yourself drift away,” MacLain said, bending low to warn her, and Kenna nodded. The man let the girl go after a taste of her flesh, but the night was early yet. She did not want to see what would happen to the serving women after the ale had been flowing for hours.
The atmosphere grew calmer as they moved closer to the central dais. Here, the people were watchful and more reserved, their eyes shifting over the crowd with sharp interest. These people meant to be near the king, and they had purpose.
Kenna saw eyes slide toward MacLain and widen. He was recognized, but no one approached to offer a friendly welcome.
He stopped and let his gaze skip over the tables. “There,” he said, and led her toward the far side of the hall.
They approached a table crowded with young men. Not one woman sat among them. Either they had no wives or they did not bring them to court.
“Guthrie,” MacLain said. One man glanced carelessly up, his fingers idly stroking the wide arch of rubies that nestled in his puffed collar. When he saw who stood above him, he smirked.
“Laird MacLain, you’ve finally arrived.”
“Aye. I am here as an eager servant to the king, yet now he refuses to see me.”
The man cocked his head. “The king will entertain you at his leisure, I’m sure.”
“Of course,” Finlay ground out. “But I’m afraid I am needed on urgent—”
“Why, Laird MacLain! Who is your lovely companion?”
She felt his body stiffen next to her, and her fingers curled into his skin in nervousness. “I present,” he growled, “my lady, Kenna Graham.”
She dipped a quick curtsy as Guthrie’s gaze swept down her. “Graham, eh? She’s enchanting.”
“Yes,” he snapped.
Guthrie smiled. “Perhaps Kenna Graham may be better at gaining access to the king than you are, Laird MacLain. She looks as if she could be much more charming.”
The man’s companions roared with laughter as Kenna flushed.
MacLain snarled. “I don’t find your statement amusing, Guthrie.”
“Oh.” The man chuckled. “That’s because I wasn’t trying for amusement. Send her to my room tonight. You’ll be in to see the king tomorrow before he breaks his fast. Will that suffice?”
A brief, hard shock of alarm jumped through her. MacLain was desperate to be on his way, after all. And she was a serving wench he’d met two days before. She clutched his arm harder. I won’t do this, she prayed. Please, I canna do this. Not this.
But who would stop it here? Who would help her? No one.
His hand curved over hers and peeled her fingers from his arm. Good Lord, would he hand her over right this moment? His fingers laced into hers.
“Guthrie?”
“Yes, Laird MacLain?” The mocking laughter faded slowly from Guthrie’s expression as he stared into MacLain’s face. A shiver jumped through his body, and he raised a hand to the back of his neck to rub hard.
MacLain leaned a little closer. “I will see the king tomorrow. Before noon. This is an urgent matter, after all.”
Frowning, Guthrie nodded. The deal was done. Kenna’s throat burned with humiliation. She would be sent to this pup’s room and forced to take him between her legs. She’d fought so hard to avoid this, and all her struggles had been for naught.
When MacLain stood straight, Guthrie shook his head and dropped his eyes immediately. But MacLain seemed to change his mind before turning away, and he stepped forward to grab the man’s chin.
“And you will not set your eyes on Kenna Graham again. Ever. Understood?”
“Aye,” the man breathed, all the color melting from his face.
Her legs were shaking as he swung her around and led her back toward the far tables.
“You won’t give me to him?” she whispered.
He could not have heard her over the din, but he shook his head all the same.
“Why?”
“You’re not mine to give, Kenna.”
“Oh. Of course.” Her relief felt strangely like hurt. “Thank you.”
“And I’d kill him before I’d let him touch you.”
She couldn’t understand the tears that sprang to her eyes, but they would not stop despite her blinking.
“We’ll have a real meal tonight at least,” he grumbled, leading her to an empty table at the very corner of the room.
“Aye,” she said as the tears slipped free and slid down her face.
“Will you—? Kenna, why are you weeping?”
“I’m not.” She sat down on the bench and ducked her head, trying to wave him toward his seat.
“Lass, what’s upset you?”
“Nothing. I only…You wanted to be on your way so badly. And I…” What had she come to in life, that she could weep with gratitude at not being treated as a worthless whore? “I expected…”
His hand touched the crown of her head, and that small touch made her breath catch and the tears fall faster. “Kenna,” he whispered, his fingers sliding down her temple and beneath her chin. “I would not have given you to him.”
She nodded, pressing her lips tight together.
“Did you think that I would?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I think I have…I fear I’ve lost all sense of myself. I cannot even recognize kindness anymore.”
“Christ, lass,” he murmured, sinking down to his haunches to meet her eyes. His fingers whispered over her cheek. “I am not kind.”
“You’ve been kind to me from the moment we met, Finlay MacLain. And I am so hard and weary that I don’t know what to do with it.”
“No,” he whispered. “I am not kind.”
“What you told me tonight…You made a mistake, all those years ago. A terrible, awful mistake. And you’ve tried to make it right. You’re not a monster.”
His fingers spread out to cup her cheek in his warmth. “You’ve no idea what I am.”
“I serve ale to dozens of men a night. Rich and poor. Young and
old. I know what you are, Finlay. You’re a man, and a good one.”
“Ah, Christ, Kenna.” His words were so soft that she barely heard them. But she felt better now. Stronger. Less like a woman who expected to be used as barter.
“Sit,” she ordered him, straightening her shoulders and grieving the loss of his heat when his hand fell away. “I’m famished.”
They ate pheasant and goose and salmon, and drank fine ale, and Finlay’s face lost some of the stiffness that had broken her heart earlier. But as the stiffness left, it revealed sadness, and a lost look in his eyes when he watched the revelers that surrounded them.
Excitement had bloomed through the hall with the arrival of King James, and Kenna had hardly believed herself in his presence as the trumpets sounded. But her excitement had sloughed off as the night had worn on. It was just as she had expected, no different from the inn, except that there were more serving girls and the men expected easy submission from the women they harassed.
When the king took his leave, MacLain pulled her to her feet and escorted her back to their chambers.
“I’m sorry, I must leave you here. I must discover what the king wants of me, and I dinna wish to expose you to that…vulgarity.”
“I’ve seen it all before,” she said, but slumped with relief when he shook his head in refusal.
He loosened the laces of her dress with brusque hands, fed the small hearth until the fire roared, and then he left her alone. Despite that she’d slept half the day, Kenna was exhausted, and climbed quickly beneath the linens to warm herself.
When she realized she missed MacLain’s presence behind her, she wasn’t even surprised by her loneliness. She just hoped he’d return soon.
The sound of water woke her, trickling into her dreams. Then the crackle of new wood catching flame. And the strong smell of ale.
Kenna opened her eyes and found the flames casting stretching, shifting shadows on the wall.
The soft splash of water caught her attention, and then she saw him. Finlay MacLain stood before the fire, his back bare from the waist up. He’d loosened his plaid and removed his leine. As she watched he scrubbed a square of linen over one arm and shoulder. His muscles jumped and bulged.
Butterflies skipped over the skin of her stomach. My God. She’d admired many a bonny man in her day, but the sight of his naked back stole her breath away.
He washed his neck and beneath his arms. When he swept the linen rag over his chest, she willed him to turn and let her watch, but he cruelly faced the hearth.
“Some clod spilled ale on me,” he said into the silence.
Kenna held her breath and closed her eyes.
“Kenna, I know you’re awake.”
“Oh?” she whispered. “How?”
He took a deep breath, his back expanding. “I can hear you. And…”
“And what?” She lay in complete contentment, watching him.
“Nothing.” He laid the rag in the bowl of water and turned to reach for his leine.
Kenna gasped. By God, he was a powerful man. His chest curved with muscle. His arms bulged with it. What would it feel like to be beneath him, to feel the weight of him above her, to feel protected and surrounded by all that power?
“Kenna!” he snapped. “You canna do that.”
“Do what?” His belly was long and lean, marred only by a white scar that curved around his ribs. Her fingers twitched with the need to trace it.
“Kenna, I can…I mean to show you respect, do you ken?”
“Aye,” she answered as her eyes traced the faint path of hair that disappeared beneath the dark edge of his plaid. She’d felt his cock press against her, felt its hardness and width. Her sex tightened and pulled at her nerves.
“Damn it!” he snapped. “I can see and hear and smell far better than any man.”
“So?” He’d taken off the stockings he’d donned for his visit to the king, and even the sight of his naked feet aroused her.
“So I can…” He kicked the wooden bowl, spilling everything across the floor. “I can smell you! When your body grows slick I can taste you on my tongue, and I’m trying to ignore it and I can’t!”
He could taste her? Every time? Blood rushed so hard to her face that her skin prickled.
“And it wasn’t kindness that made me threaten Guthrie. It was selfishness. I want you for myself, and if I canna have you, at least I can keep that bastard’s eyes off you.”
She pressed a hand to her thundering heart. He wanted her. Badly. “Why…” Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly swallow. “Why can you not have me?” It was too dangerous, probably. With the fangs and his dark soul and beastly nature. It was foolish of her to even want it.
Finlay walked to the hearth and pressed both hands to the narrow stone mantel. “I want you, lass, but I canna offer more. Marriage or love. Not even bairns, as they’d be like me. So I canna have you, and it is one thing to lie in a bed beside you, burning. But it is another thing entirely to smell your body grow warm and wet for me, and tell myself I should not touch you.”
Oh. Well, that didn’t sound dangerous at all. He had been aware of her arousal every time, and still he hadn’t taken her? She’d never known a man to turn down even the most grudging offer of pleasure. “But you kissed me. At the inn.”
“’Twas just a kiss. And it nearly got you killed. Imagine what a mistake it would be to lie with me.”
His hands clutched the stone, throwing his muscles hard against his skin. The plaid had slipped a bit lower, exposing the hollow of his spine just above his buttocks. Running her tongue down his backbone seemed a grand idea at the moment. “You would hurt me?”
“Nay! Of course not! But it would not honor you, either, would it?”
“Honor,” she muttered. Honor. She had honored her husband and what had it gotten her? Nothing in the end, but loneliness and shame. She had honored her family her whole life, and they had tossed her out like rubbish after her marriage. This man had shown her more honor than any other. He’d asked for nothing in return.
“I am a widow.”
He started to shake his head, but she cut him off.
“I know what it is to lie with a man. And I know what it is to miss that. I do miss that, Finlay. I want to feel a man inside me again. I want to feel you.”
His whole body flinched as if she’d struck him, and he pushed back from the wall to pace. “Kenna, don’t. Please. I am…especially drawn to you. I willna be able to resist if you offer. And I mean to take from you, Kenna, do you not understand?”
She touched her fingertips to her neck, and his gaze flew there. When his lips parted, she saw his fangs. Sharp and long. Fear and sharp desire pulsed through her. Finlay groaned, and the sound of his need shivered against her.
“Would it…Would it cause harm? To my body or my soul?”
His face twisted, torture writ clear on his features. “Nay, but—”
“I am a woman,” she insisted, rising up and letting the bed linens fall away. “And I need, Finlay, just as much as you do.”
“Stop,” he ordered as she reached for the hem of her shift. He took a step toward her, eyes fierce, hand reaching to halt her movement. But Kenna cared nothing for caution and honor and good sense tonight. Tonight she wanted a warm body against hers and a need that matched her own. She wanted to be a woman again, and feel her body rise with pleasure.
Before he could reach the bed, she gripped the shift in her hands and pulled it over her head.
“Ah, Christ above,” he gasped, stuttering to a stop just a foot from her. He closed his eyes, but too late. She saw in the tightening of his face that her nakedness could not be shut out so easily. She slipped from the bed and took one of his large hands in her own.
“Will you lie with me tonight, Finlay? With only the honor of my invitation between us?” Though she asked the question, she forced the issue by pressing his hand to one of her breasts.
He didn’t resist, but she felt the shaking in his f
ingers. Kenna held her breath and waited.
He wanted. He wanted so much.
For a brief moment, Finlay thought he might be able to walk away. Somehow, he fooled himself into thinking that even the soft give of her breast beneath his fingers could not convince him. But only for one heartbeat. Then the nerves of his fingertips woke, and her skin was hot and fine and yielding. She pressed his hand closer and her breast filled the curve of his palm and pushed up against his fingers.
When he shifted his thumb, Kenna sighed, her breath puffing against his chest. And then she touched him.
She flattened her palm to his chest, spreading her fingers wide. A simple touch. And nothing close to enough.
Finlay opened his eyes and he was lost. Her body was perfect and lush. Her breasts full and firm and so pale under his roughened hands. Her hips curved out from a small waist, forming the perfect angle for his hold.
“Kenna,” he breathed as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. The bedcovers had kept her heat close, and now it soaked into him, warming more than just his skin. Something inside him thawed as he drew the fragrance of her warm body deep into his lungs. The thawing revealed pain, and Finlay felt his breath hitch.
Kenna’s hands swept over his back and down to his waist. After a deep breath, she slipped from his arms and pulled him to the bed.
He went to his knees before her. “You are a fine and lovely thing, Kenna.”
“As are you,” she whispered as she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him to her for a kiss. The taste of her swept him into another world. Nothing existed but their bodies. No past, no future, no horrors of his own making. It was just Kenna’s tongue rubbing shyly over his. Her taste, like the sun and summer, flooding through him.
They kissed until her hands began to move restlessly over his shoulders, and he couldn’t resist tasting more. First her neck, then her shoulder, then the soft rise of her breast.
She inhaled hard. He felt the thundering of her heart beneath his mouth, but he would not rush this. Not this. It would last forever if he could will it so.
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