A clap of thunder sounded overhead with a force that rattled the dishes on the shelves. Kieran peered out the small window. Drops had not yet begun to fall, but the dark clouds overhead were angry, and the air crackled with the impending storm. If they left now and pushed the horses, they could arrive at the castle before the rain started.
“We need to go. I need to be back and dinna want to get trapped in the storm. But this conversation isna over, aye?”
“It never is,” she said with a good natured smile. “You could stay here. Both of you could.” Her eyes lit with a hope that tugged at Kieran’s heart.
He knew she was lonely. He also realized that the time she’d spent with Mariel reminded her how lonely she truly was. All the more reason for her to come live in the castle with a majority of their clan. But that was a point to bring up another time. For now, he and Mariel needed to leave.
“I wish we could stay, but we need to return.” He lowered his voice. “Mariel and I have a conversation left unfinished. I’d like to speak with her privately.” He glanced up at Mariel and caught her staring at him from her spot on the floor. She quickly dropped her gaze and bent over a carved sheep with a feigned preoccupation that didn’t fool him.
Blair looked between him and Mariel with an infuriating grin on her face. “Don’t let me stop you.” She rested her hand on his forearm and looked up at him with a wide, earnest gaze. “Please promise you’ll bring her back here again. Soon.”
“Aye, I promise.” His words were almost drowned out by another crack of thunder, pressing the urgency of their departure.
• • •
Kieran squinted his eyes against the driving force of the rain and scanned the horizon through his blurred vision. Lightning slashed through yellow gray skies, followed by another crash of thunder. The spitting precipitation had turned into fat droplets that stung his face and made seeing difficult.
The castle was still quite a distance away. He considered their options to gauge if they could push their horses forward and beat the worst of the storm or if they should seek shelter nearby.
A chip of ice bounced off his knuckle. Several more frozen chunks descended from above and sprang harmlessly from the flanks of their horses.
He had seen storms like this before and knew the hail could reach sizes as large as his fist. The chances were slim, but certainly not what he was willing to risk.
Their salvation lay at the base of the hill in the distance, in the small white building he could just make out. They could be there in minutes.
“Mariel!” he bellowed over the howling storm and jerked his head toward the hut.
She gave a nod from beneath the plaid covering her head and snapped her reins.
The horses needed little encouragement and streaked across the landscape as the chunks of ice grew larger. When the house was a stone’s throw away, Kieran halted his horse and leapt from the saddle. A makeshift shelter with a slatted roof sat off to the side.
Mariel slid from her saddle and ran toward the house while he gathered the horses, their reins slick and water logged beneath his palm. Hail popped against the roof of the crude stable.
Once he was satisfied the horses were safe and secure, he darted into the house and slammed the door shut against the deafening roar of the storm. Mariel stood with her back to him, facing the smoldering hearth she had stoked to life. The smoky scent of peat permeated the room with a warm comfort that reminded him of his boyhood days.
Her soft voice was loud in the heavy silence of the room. “Does someone live here?”
“They did, but no anymore. I believe this was Duncan’s home. He was getting on in age and moved to the castle for convenience.” Kieran strode around the walls, checking for cracks and leaks, the scuff of his shoes echoing in the open room.
Despite the strength of the storm, the thatch roof did not let in any water, nor did the blustering wind appear to be seeping in. Kieran ran his fingers over the smooth wooden shutters to ensure their strength and nodded to himself with satisfaction. Their shelter was in good repair and would do well as they waited out the storm.
He kicked his toe against a pile of hay in the corner and saw no movement. Another good sign. If the hay was free of vermin, they would not need to sleep on the floor if the storm raged on through the night.
He joined Mariel in front of the hearth, and the comfortable warmth of the fire bloomed against his chest. Her damp hair had begun to dry and curled in soft, dark waves against her porcelain skin. Her gaze, he noticed, was fixed on the curl of smoke rising from the glowing peat.
Kieran gently pulled Mariel’s plaid from her shoulder to dry. She jerked away and gave a startled gasp, and then a sheepish smile lit her face.
“Sorry,” she murmured and handed him the length of sodden wool.
She had turned her attention back to the fire with her lower lip tucked between her teeth. While the storm had been unexpected, he was grateful for the opportunity to spend time with her. Uninterrupted. Alone.
A chill ran down Kieran’s back and prickled the flesh on his arms. If he was going to be warm any time soon, he would need to get out of his wet clothing. Heat spread through his groin. They both would.
Anticipation fired through him as he imagined pulling the clinging fabric from her skin. He kicked off his soggy boots and peeled the leine over his head. Her creamy skin would glow like a pearl in the soft light with every beautiful curve bared for his appreciation.
He glanced over to find her still staring into the hearth and something heavy pressed within his chest.
Her gaze was unseeing, her lips pursed together, and her brow furrowed. Something weighed on her mind, and he knew exactly what it was.
Mariel did not fight the onslaught of guilt. She wallowed in it until the burden exacted the punishment befitting her tarnished soul. Her thoughts filled with the recollection of Blair’s gentle demeanor and Dougal’s sweet innocence.
He was so much like Jack.
Her heart flinched. Blair and Dougal were not the political refugees she had assumed them to be, and certainly they were not men.
Armed with the knowledge of their history, she could easily guess the client who paid Aaron so handsomely for her to be sent on this assignment. Nor was there any doubt in her mind what Lord Hampton would do once he was reunited with his wife and son. Chills raced down her back despite the blazing heat of the fire.
Jack.
She drew a painful breath and held it, as if the act could ease the ache of her heart. If there were an option between her life and his, she would gladly sacrifice herself. But to surrender a woman and child who had already endured such sadness and abuse—the option was as unthinkable as abandoning Jack.
If she kept their whereabouts unknown, she could save them all, but the cost…
She glanced miserably up at Kieran and her breath caught. His naked torso rippled in the golden light of the fire. Water dripped from the tips of his hair and trailed down his powerful chest.
His eyes shone onyx in the firelight, and he gazed at her expectantly. Had he spoken?
Heat warmed her cold cheeks. “Did you say something?”
“Did ye get distracted by something?” A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
She wished she could smile, laugh the situation off as easily as his comment was made. But she was hollow inside-a gilded box of dark secrets that housed everything worthless.
The grin slid from Kieran’s face, and he regarded her with an earnest expression. “I’m glad we have this time alone. There’s much I wish to say to ye.” He gave a tired sigh. “I introduced ye to Blair and ye know what they’ve gone through.”
She flinched at his words. She knew all too well.
“That English bastard used her. He hurt her.” His jaw clenched. “I dinna want ye to come to Skye because I had promised them my protection.” He stepped closer and his fingers trailed down Mariel’s jawline. The tender look in his eyes pierced her heart. “If I allowed my
self to have ye and then forced ye away from Skye before we arrived, I’d be no better than him.” He spoke softly as if he were afraid of scaring her off. “I’ve no ever wanted to cause ye any hurt.”
His hand dropped away from her face. “But I did. I saw it in yer eyes and heard it in yer cry. And then I shunned ye when I was angry with myself.” He shook his head, his mouth set in a hard line.
Mariel watched him carefully, so consumed in her own spiral of misery that it took a moment to realize what he spoke of. Last night. Her virginity. That moment seemed a world away, her shame and humiliation so insignificant to the precipice she stood before now.
“Kieran, you could never be like Blair’s husband. This pain I feel, it’s not anything you’ve done, it’s…” she tapered off, unsure of what to say, of what she could say.
A look of confusion passed over his features, but he remained silent.
“I didn’t know all this would happen.” The last word caught in her throat, and a hot tear slid down her cheek. “Not that I knew what to expect when I came to Scotland, but it certainly wasn’t this. Even you.” She looked up at him, silently pleading for him to hear the hidden truth in what she said. “I never expected you to be a man so respected by his people. A man I could admire for his integrity. And Blair…I was so grievously wrong in my initial assumption. Looking back, there is no way I could have known and yet…”
Breathing became difficult as the pain in her chest intensified. “Kieran, how could you ever possibly forgive me?”
“Lass, it was a simple mistake. I harbor no resentment.” His thumb brushed her cheek where the tear had fallen. “Ye dinna need to be afraid of anything, especially no me.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him with her secret as he had trusted her with his.
“It’s…complicated,” she said.
He smirked. “I know complicated verra well.”
His arms came around her, pulling her into the strength of his embrace. The weight of his hand stroked the back of her head and threaded through her hair as the familiar spicy scent of him enveloped her. She tried to resist the tender touch, but his soothing caress did not relent until her head lay against the powerful expanse of his chest.
“I protect what’s mine, Mariel.” His voice rumbled against her cheek. “No one will hurt ye. No while I’m around.”
“There is so much you don’t know,” she murmured miserably against the cool skin of his chest. Yet she had not the courage to tell him, even now.
She was not worthy of the comfort he offered.
“Why dinna ye tell me ye were a virgin?” The question was sincere and lacked the accusation she’d feared the night before.
A fresh wave of shame brought the burn of tears stinging against her eyelids. “If you knew I was a maiden, you would think better of me than I deserve.”
He pulled her back and gazed at her, his black eyes fierce. “Mariel, dinna ever say anything like that. No matter what ye’ve done in yer past, ye are a good woman.” Before she could protest, he continued. “Ye are intelligent and witty, and ye have this way of making people smile, even Innes and she hasna smiled in a decade.” He tilted her face up so her lips were a hair’s breadth away from his. “And ye are so verra, verra beautiful.”
The conviction behind his words coiled her in a sense of security she had not known for a long time. Deep down, she recognized the feeling was a façade, but for that one small moment, she wanted to fall under its spell. She sighed and sank against him so the heat of his naked flesh warmed her icy fingers, and the comfort of his embrace masked the guilt and fear within her emptiness.
The storm howled outside and battered the windows with its rage while the rain whipped against the small house. In Kieran’s arms, she was dry and safe.
“I dinna want to hurt ye.” His breath was warm against her mouth, and his hand settled on her hip where the wound had finally healed.
“No, you won’t hurt me.” She closed her eyes against the blister of remorse.
“I’ve hurt ye verra much already.” Sorrow laced his words. “I confess I’m afraid to cause ye more pain.”
She blinked her eyes open and found his gaze sincere and shrouded with guilt.
“You won’t,” she reassured him again.
Relief crossed his features. He nuzzled her neck, breathing deep as he buried his face against her hair. “Ye want this?”
Her body pounded with need in response to the caress. She needed this. For the comfort, for the love, for all the glorious things she did not deserve and yet could not stop herself from wanting. As if the flames of his affection could sear away the guilt and shame from her ugly soul. May God have mercy on her, she could not say no.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kieran pressed a kiss to the silky warmth of Mariel’s neck. Her scent hovered over the pungent aroma of peat. That subtle perfume, it drove him crazy.
“I want this.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw. She pulled his face up and rested her forehead against his. “I want you.”
Her lips were a breath away from his. He could restrain himself no longer. He wanted to feel those lips on his, against his skin. Against his body.
He cradled the back of her head in his hand, tangling his fingers in the drying silk of her hair. His chin inched forward and brushed the softness of her lips before gently parting her mouth with his own. He tightened his grip on her, need hammering through him as he swept his tongue into her mouth. A soft moan sounded in the back of her throat and sent a fire scorching through his veins.
God, he loved the little sounds she made.
Cold hands unfurled against his chest as she rose on her tiptoes and stroked his tongue with hers. His bollocks tightened. For a woman who claimed to be ignorant to her effect on him, she certainly seemed to know what she was doing.
“You’re so warm,” she murmured against his lips.
Her palms skimmed the expanse of his torso, and his skin prickled with heightened sensitivity. One of her fingernails grazed his nipple, and his breath sucked in through his teeth.
He grasped her round bottom. The fabric of her gown was soaked through, cold. “Wet clothes,” he murmured. “Ye willna get warm.” His own sodden kilt chafed against the strain of his erection. “Ye need to undress.” The last word ended on a groan.
Every muscle tensed with a fine thread of self-control. His body ached for what he had sampled the night before. He wanted to rip the gown from her body and plunge deep inside her.
His chest swelled against the breath he locked in his lungs for restraint. With careful deliberation, he plucked the ties of her gown until the overdress hung loose around her. His lips captured hers in a slow, hungry kiss and his fingers brushed the sleeves from her shoulders, peeling the wet wool off her.
He met her wide, violet gaze and saw an open vulnerability there. Gone was the confident seductress, and in her place was a real woman whose innocence could not be contested-one with a shy smile and flushed cheeks.
One whose sark was rendered transparent by rainwater where it plastered against her shapely curves.
Ripples of useless fabric puckered across the smooth skin his fingers ached to stroke. Kieran tried to swallow and found he could not. The baggy underdress meant to hide everything, hid absolutely nothing.
He pulled the delicate ribbon from its bow and ran his finger along the neckline until it widened enough to slide down the length of her body. If it joined the puddle of clothing at her feet, he did not notice.
Her body glowed in the soft light and sparkled like a thousand gems where rain clung to her flesh. Her long black hair hung unbound to her narrow waist and parted over rosy nipples drawn tight against the cold.
His hands skimmed over her curves, icy and slick. She would not be cold for long. He would see to that.
Her hand slid a slow, teasing path down his stomach to where his kilt was belted around his waist. Slowly, achingly, she threaded the leather through the metal clasp and
let the belt clatter to the floor. The wet kilt spiraled off his waist to the floor with a graceless splat.
Her frigid skin against the raging heat of his cock was a bittersweet relief that cooled and heated all at once. Desire pounded in his ears and pulsed against her belly, demanding he slake the lust that had haunted him for two months. Two long months.
He would have her this day.
Kieran swept her legs from beneath her and cradled her slight weight in his arms. The pile of hay was not the grand bed she deserved, but in a stark room with naught but wet cloth to cushion them from the hard floor, it would have to suffice.
He lowered her to their makeshift bed and the sweet scent of hay rose up around them. She laid back, her shy gaze fixed upon him. Her breasts rose and fell with each quickened breath. She was nervous. And judging from the unaccustomed pulse in his gut, perhaps he was too.
He stretched his body over hers, enough to feel the heat of her skin against his own, but not close enough to touch. He dared not, lest he lose himself to lust. His lips nuzzled the softness of hers. Once. Twice. She gave a little whimper of protest and lifted her chin toward his mouth. Her efforts were in vain. He would not give in so easily to temptation this time, not until he had seen to her pleasure.
His fingers trailed over the coolness of her damp skin, tracing the heavy fullness of her breast before he suckled the cold pebble of her nipple into his mouth. She gave a sharp gasp and arched her back. Her breasts thrust forward, goading him, begging for more. He circled the warming bud with his tongue and bit back a grin. If she enjoyed this, she would truly enjoy what he intended to do next.
He trailed kisses down her flat stomach until the downy hair of her sex grazed his chin. His fingers stroked the skin inside her thighs, easing higher and higher until her legs parted for him. Sweat prickled his brow.
He let the warmth of his lips brush her inner thigh and her breath caught. She stiffened beneath his touch. He would not be dissuaded.
Deception of a Highlander Page 17
