Deception of a Highlander

by Madeline Martin

  Chapter Thirteen

  The water’s intense heat left Mariel’s flesh rosy where the gentle ripples licked her calves. Spirals of steam curled above the mirrored surface in silent temptation to sink into its liquid embrace. The neat stitching at her side, however, would not do well under water. Experience had taught her that much. Her wistful sigh disturbed the languid ascent of perfumed mist rising around her.

  A quick glance at the bed confirmed Kieran lay in peaceful slumber with his arms crossed behind his head. Regret was a slow burning flame lodged in the pit of her stomach. Were it not for the gash at her side, this would have been the prime opportunity for seduction. Not that it had gone well in Edinburgh.

  Armed with a clean strip of linen, a chunk of soap, and a small bucket, Mariel set to work ridding her body of the ravages of battle. Blood and dirt ran in murky rivulets down her legs and clouded like swirling smoke in the water below her knees. She scrubbed her skin pink, but could not remove the filth that embedded itself in the cuticles of her nails and ridges of her fingertips. Nor could she remove the memory of the man’s face whose life she had taken.

  Had she not killed him, he would have killed her. She knew that, yet somehow it did not ease his death from her conscience.

  Nor could the guilty ache of Jane’s death be so easily removed. Much as Mariel hated the heartlessness of her internal admission, with Jane’s death came the opportunity to devise a different plan.

  No longer was Mariel watched. No longer would she be reported. She cast a sidelong look at where Kieran lay stretched out on the bed.

  How would he take her confession if she told him?

  Her gaze settled on the claymore he’d set aside, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The blade had been wiped clean of the blood from their recent battle, but the massive sword did not appear any less dangerous.

  Her thoughts were thick, muddled by the pain at her side and the exhaustion pulsing in her skull. There had to be another way.

  Mariel squeezed her eyes shut against her churning mind and lifted the heavy bucket into her arms. She would think more on it tomorrow when her head was clear and her body rested. For now she needed to focus on washing her hair or Kieran would never want her. She raised the bucket overhead and an unexpected sting knifed through her side.

  “Mariel?”

  Stars flashed before her eyes and nausea threatened to consume her. The act of lifting her hands over her body had pulled tight at the freshly stitched wound and left her paralyzed with pain. She gripped the damp wooden edge of the tub for support.

  She would not faint.

  The bed ropes squeaked against one another. “Lass, do ye need help?”

  “No,” she whispered. “No,” she repeated a little stronger. “I…I don’t think I’m going to be able to wash my hair.” Was that a quiver in her voice? She swallowed the knot of helpless frustration.

  Silence followed her admission before he finally spoke, his voice terse. “Get dressed. I’ll wash yer hair for ye.”

  “What?” Had she heard him correctly?

  “Just get dressed,” he snapped.

  Mariel patted herself dry gingerly and reached for something to wear. A fresh tear of pain ripped through her side. She gritted her teeth and considered her options. The brown dress was being washed, and all her dresses required a corset. She had no choice but to wear a night rail.

  The thin cotton fabric slid over her body like a breath of cool air against skin flushed from the heat of the bath. She turned to find Kieran in all his hard masculinity kneeling by the crude tub, waiting for her. His gaze was black, unreadable where it slid down the length of her night clothes.

  He cleared his throat and motioned to the leg he had propped against the edge of the bath. “Lean against me to ease the pain.”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Despite the stab of fire, she straightened her back in an effort to look stronger than she felt.

  His jaw clenched, and he gave her a long look that indicated he was not in the mood to argue. Mariel settled on the floor and leaned her back against the hard muscled wall of his thigh. His spicy scent mingled with the humid haze of steam from the bath and lulled her into the slow, steady pulse of languid arousal.

  Warm water poured over her scalp and all thoughts but those of pleasure washed from her mind. Kieran’s battle hardened hands were gentle where they ran through her hair, working out the bits of leaves, mud, and God only knew what else. Heat radiated from his solid torso, mere inches from her face. The slightest lean forward and she would be close enough to press her lips against the warm skin of his neck.

  His nearness consumed her. She was intensely aware of every move he made, no matter how slight. Sweat prickled her palms, and the lazy pulse thrummed between her thighs as she surrendered to his gentle ministrations.

  Stroke after sweet stroke, he ran his hands through her tresses with such tenderness it could only be considered a caress. A bucket of water washed down her hair once more, and, with disappointment, Mariel knew he was finished.

  He supported her back with his arm and helped her to her feet. His black eyes fixed on her with a look that made heat pool low in her stomach. His hands lingered against her lower back longer than was necessary. The sun had long since set, and the candlelight cast a flickering golden glow against his face. Jagged shadows etched across the sharp edge of his jawline and cheekbones. He looked fierce, darkly handsome—almost dangerous.

  Droplets of water snaked down her back, and yet she barely noticed. Having him wash her hair had been a strangely intimate act. An act whose poignancy she knew was not lost on him either.

  A gentle rap on the door shattered the unspoken connection between them. Kieran turned away from her with a look of regret lining his face.

  Her senses came hurtling back. What was it about him that made her lose her wits? Was it his powerful presence? His handsome, rugged features? His size?

  A shiver wound down her spine. No. It was the way he looked at her. The way she responded to him, and the way she melted under his touch.

  Her hand balled into a fist in an effort to shove away her feelings. She was there to gather his secrets. She was there to save Jack. No matter how badly she wanted Kieran or how significant he made her feel, she needed to do this. For Jack. And for Kieran.

  Jane’s warning echoed in the back of Mariel’s mind. It was a nagging burr that had been lodged there since it’d been uttered. He’s going to die after this is over, whether by your blade or by that of another.

  If what Jane said was true, then why would Aaron give Mariel the option? Her thoughts were a haze of fog and pain.

  Kieran returned carrying a small mug of steaming brown liquid. “This posset came from the healer. She said to drink it tonight to ensure ye get good rest before we press on tomorrow.” He eyed her for a moment before adding, “If ye feel like continuing with the journey. If ye need another day or two for recovery, we can always—”

  “No,” she replied quickly. “I’ll be fine. We need not to delay on my behalf.” The sooner they arrived in Skye, the sooner she could begin her discreet search for Blair and Dougal Hampton. The sooner she could be free of the heat of his stare and the overwhelming guilt that inevitably followed.

  She reached for the cup and paused. Aaron had praised her determination in the past. Countless times. She had always been the sort who focused on the prize and did not stop until she attained it. And he knew that.

  Her heart slammed hard against her ribs.

  Aaron gave her the option because he knew she would do whatever was necessary to get the information rather than kill.

  She gripped the scalding mug with her fingertips and gave a murmured thanks before settling in front of the fire.

  The flames licked against one another, prancing with rapacious speed over the crisscrossed logs. If she was right and Aaron had given her the option to ensure success, he was indeed crafty. Fortunately, she was crafty too.

  Marie
l set the posset aside to cool to a drinkable temperature while she combed the snarls from her hair carefully lest she injure herself again.

  Aaron was right, not only about her determination but also her uncanny ability to gain trust. She would earn Kieran’s trust and find the location of the Hamptons as she’d been instructed. But once Jack was safe, she would go back for Kieran before Aaron’s assassins could ever lay claim on him.

  She could save them all.

  A quick dip of her finger into the brown tea confirmed it would not scald her.

  She held the rim of the cup to her lips and inhaled the musty scent before tilting the liquid into her mouth. Bitterness washed over her tongue and clung to the back of her throat with such potency she could not stop the unladylike gag that followed. Perhaps only one sip would be enough.

  Kieran was unsympathetic to her plight. “I dinna care what it tastes like, Mariel. Ye need to drink all of it so ye can be well rested. That wound will pain ye tonight otherwise.”

  Mariel whirled around with a sharp reply on her tongue and stifled a gasp. Kieran’s naked back faced her from where he stood beside the tub. His kilt was still belted around his narrow hips, but would not be for long as his hands were tugging the belt free.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned away lest he catch her staring at him. She brought the cup to her lips, hoping to ease the sudden dryness of her mouth. Holding her nose as she had done as a child, she drank the remainder of the tea. She hoped it would be worth the effort.

  From the safety of the silky curtain of her hair, she peered through the ebony strands to where he stood. His back was still toward her, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to see. Good Lord, the man was glorious.

  Broad, powerful shoulders framed the strength of his back and the seductive play of shadows along the tantalizing plane. Smooth skin stretched taut over well-honed muscle from years of battle and practice with the sword. Indulgent, Mariel let her gaze slide lower, past his tapered waist to the enticing curve of his buttocks. Heat flooded her cheeks at her brazen observation, but it did not stop her as she shifted her eyes lower still to take in his long, sculpted legs from the bulging thighs to where his finely wrought calves disappeared into the glassy surface of the bath.

  She was just about to turn away when he lifted a bucket overhead and let the water run down his shoulders. Droplets clung to his naked back and trembled as each subtle movement sent the muscles along his back rippling. A single bead rolled along the length of his spine and glided down the powerful lines of his body. Mariel moistened her lips and watched its seductive descent, overwhelmed with the temptation to trace its path with the tip of her tongue.

  Heat tingled at the base of her skull and wound down her back before exploding through her limbs. The sensation moved too quickly for comfort and set her heart racing.

  What had the old woman given her to drink?

  As quickly as it had come, the intensity of the heat faded and with it the throbbing pain of her wound. The relief did not last long, however, before the room began to spin. Slowly at first and then faster and faster until everything blurred together and threatened to swallow her whole.

  Panic wrenched the air from her chest and blackness wavered before…She meant to cry out for Kieran, but the word came out as little more than a whimper.

  The echo of water splashed as his voice called to her from far away. Her tongue grew thick in her mouth and no matter how hard she tried, she could not answer.

  Darkness curled her into its embrace and she felt no more.

  • • •

  Kieran rushed to where Mariel lay sprawled upon the floor and gathered her into his arms. The healer had indicated Mariel might appear addled, drunk even, but had said nothing about fainting.

  Panic lurched in his chest. Mariel was still. Too still.

  Her flushed cheeks burned beneath his fingertips. He had never seen a fever occur so early after an injury, but it did not mean such a thing was not possible.

  “Mariel,” he called sharply. He needed to rouse her from the frightening slumber.

  Her lashes fluttered, and her beautiful eyes opened and focused on him. Confusion wrinkled her brow and then a languid smile spread over her lips. “I don’t know how I ended up in your arms, but I’m glad I’m here.”

  Relief released the iron grip of fear in his chest. Mariel’s words slurred ever so slightly, but the small lines of pain around her mouth had faded. Despite the strange effects, the healer’s posset was obviously working.

  “Are ye feeling all right?” God, did she have to stare at him like that? He eased her into a sitting position and kneeled beside her.

  She gave a throaty laugh. “I’ve never felt better.” Her hot gaze crept down his body. “And I’ve never seen you in such a state of undress.”

  In his haste to reach Mariel, he had not bothered with so much as a scrap of linen to wrap around his waist. A detail his aching cock already made him regret. To think her thin cotton night rail was all that separated him from her silky flesh…again.

  Kieran stretched over her to reach his discarded plaid when Mariel’s small hand settled on his arm, stopping him.

  “No. Please.” She shook her head, and her hair brushed his naked flesh. “I want to see you.”

  He rose to his feet and held his arms out for her observation.

  She looked up at him from where she sat on the floor, and a corner of her luscious mouth lifted in a coy smile. “Should I kiss you?” Her gaze traveled up the length of his legs to where his arousal was beginning to show. “Should I tease you?” She got to her knees in front of him and met his gaze with a heat that left him rock hard. “Touch you?” Her lips were a whisper away from the head of his cock.

  “Then should I leave abruptly?” She gave a satisfied little smirk and settled back on the ground.

  The minx. So her silence before was due to his quick departure. “My punishment is to be naked?” Frustration and lust clouded his mind.

  She tilted her head to the side so the delicate line of her jaw was displayed in the soft glow of the fire. “And to be at the mercy of my inspection.”

  Anticipation coiled low in his stomach, but he immediately crushed it. Mariel had just fainted, and her words were garbled with the effects of the tea. She was not in her right mind and he’d be damned if he would allow himself to touch her as she was. Ignoring her pout of protest, Kieran belted his plaid and knelt beside her.

  “Ye can inspect me another time. Right now, ye need to be in bed, aye?”

  She watched him with a wide-eyed, luminous gaze. She reached out for him, hesitant at first before gently stroking his naked chest with a feather light touch that singed his flesh. Her fingertips grazed a crescent scar below his collarbone.

  She drew in a shallow breath through parted, glistening lips and let her touch skim down his torso. Her finger ran over his stomach and caused all the muscles there to tighten against her caress.

  Kieran couldn’t speak, couldn’t move beneath her study of his marred flesh. Women had marveled at the scars before with exaggerated gasps as they begged for stories of war. Mariel, however, gazed upon him with a pensive expression on her flushed face.

  Her fingers dipped low to a hairline scar below his navel, and his cock jerked to attention, stretching for the heat of her hand. Somewhere he dredged up the strength to take hold of her wrist and still her maddening exploration.

  “This must have been the most painful.” She slid her hand from his grasp and lightly touched an uneven scar along his ribs where a blade had caught him several years before. The recovery had been considerable.

  “Women must ask you about your scars all the time,” Mariel murmured thoughtfully, tracing the outline with the delicate tip of her nail.

  Small bumps rose on his flesh in pleasant response to her touch. “Some,” he answered carefully.

  Would she ask him? He hated the curious glances and notable admiration. Mariel, however, seemed different from ot
hers. And he didn’t want to be disappointed.

  Her eyes met his, bright with the effects of the tea. “I won’t.” She turned her gaze to his exposed chest once more and, regretfully, removed her hand from his body. “A scar carries secrets, memories, and lessons. Asking you for an explanation would be like asking you to bare your soul to me.”

  Her hand glided up his chest, and she gave him that slanted look she was too damn good at.

  “You like the way I touch you.” Her mouth curved in a slow smile. “I know because I can feel it.”

  She slid into his lap, straddling him with her long, smooth legs. Her lips tickled his neck as she whispered in a husky tone, “I like the way you touch me too.”

  She pressed a kiss to his neck. “I like how your body is so solid against mine. So strong…” Her fingers curled around his arm, and she sighed next to his ear. “I like the way you burn me with a desire unlike anything I’ve ever known.” Her hips rolled against his straining arousal.

  She rose up on her knees so the swell of her breasts hovered invitingly in front of his face. “I like the way you caress me…” Her eyes fluttered closed, and her hand slid down her neck, splaying across the expanse of milky flesh like that of a lover. “…the way your touch leaves a trail of fire.”

  She dropped her head back. Her face was relaxed and serene as her tapered fingers skimmed the rounded tops of her breasts. His cock lurched.

  “Touch me, Kieran.” The words came out in a breathy moan. “Burn me with pleasure as only you can.”

  She leaned into him, pressing her breasts closer. The pink of her nipples showed through the thin fabric. The slightest nuzzle would part the gown and give him access to the sleek warmth she so readily offered.

  He groaned aloud and pulled her into his lap once more, freeing his vision from a temptation he had not the strength to resist. Too late did he realize his mistake as she arched her hips against him.

  Her face relaxed in a veil of pleasure and her glossy hair was cool against his fingers where it hadn’t yet dried. His cock throbbed to the rapid beat of his heart. A slip of his finger between her thighs would confirm what her expression already told him—she was wet, ready, and willing.