Romancing the Rose

by Mary Anne Graham

  “So you admit it!” Ram snapped. “It doesn’t matter what I am or am not–you are not allowed to consort with other men,” Ram said, pounding his chest in emphasis. “I forbid it.”

  “What? You what?” Rose screeched, snatching back the hands his chest-thumping freed and using them for some thumping of her own. He didn’t flinch or move away, even when her hands traveled from his chest to his face, even when she stopped pummeling and started scratching. She stopped herself when her fingernails drew blood in a half-moon line along his right cheek. “I’ve marked you.”

  “I know,” Ram said solemnly.

  She grabbed his shoulders and reached up to lick away the dots of blood.

  He groaned and kissed her, finding the lure of sharing his essence too strong to resist. ‘Twas a tender, sweet kiss, even if its effect on him was neither. When he pulled away, the demand in her eyes had softened but it hadn’t disappeared.

  “You have no right to forbid me anything,” Rose said. “

  “I have every right,” Ram replied.

  “Poppycock,” Rose said. “What gives you that right?”

  “This,” Ram said, nuzzling one of her erect nipples, now nearly sharp enough to poke through the threadbare cotton nightgown. “And this,” he said, nuzzling the other one. “But particularly, this gives me the right.” He shifted his knees to hike up her nightgown so that he planted his rigid, kilt-covered, manhood right against her – “No underwear,” Ram groaned.

  “I was sleeping and I–why am I explaining myself to you?” Rose asked, aggravated at how he aroused her so quickly. He wanted Flora. He picked Flora. Flora and Ram were betrothed by his word, his choice. That closed the issue — and her legs. “You may speak to your betrothed about what undergarments she wears or who she kisses, but you may speak to me about neither. Now get off and let me go.”

  She knew she’d pushed him too far in mentioning the kiss. She knew because his face sharpened into a look of such utter focus, such total concentration, that she gasped. Rose said his name then, ready to retract her words and calm him into thinking again, rather than reacting, but ‘twas too late. Ram hiked his kilt and lunged forward.

  “Or I could do this,” Ram said, as he entered her, sending showers of sensation over every part of her being. His groan echoed through both of them, and she wanted to repeat it, needed to repeat it, but couldn’t. It was as wrong as the way he shifted, slightly to the right, to rotate his hips slowly, spreading the fires of hell to burn through her will.

  “Stop,” she said, quickly–while she still could.

  The word hit him like a shot of whiskey. The burn stopped him so hard that the pain showed in his face. He hovered, his torso still, just an arms’ span above, his chocolate eyes intent and intense, and his embedded engorged staff, motionless too– save for its desperate pulsing. His extreme effort to do as she demanded shook him from head to toe, and that shiver alone proved too much for his tortured manhood, too much for him.

  Defeat shouldn’t feel this good, Ram thought, just before he said, “I can’t,” before he plunged deep, deep into the territory he had no business claiming.

  ***

  “I know you’re nae asleep.”

  The words jolted Rose into a sitting position, her heart pounding madly before she realized the speaker was a female, about her age. The girl stepped up one rung to climb into the wagon before the trail of men following her all tried to step up at once to lift her into the wagon. Several started fighting over the right to do that, so the girl winked at Flora before she scrambled up just fine on her own.

  She turned and gave a couple of other lads an Angel’s smile. They held platters piled with an astonishing quantity of food. She motioned them over and they handed up the food and another passed over a pitcher and two cups. “Thank you so much for being sweet enough to fetch dinner. And don’t forget to thank the cook again for all of these treats.”

  The lads stammered that they wouldn’t forget. A couple of others shouted that they would have fetched the food. The girl calmed them all, promising to let different ones bring tomorrow’s meals. Then, in a voice so sweet it all but dripped honey, she asked them to leave her to get acquainted with her new friend. Some drifted away but others stayed on, just to gape at her. She had to repeat her request three times before they all left.

  “I hope you’ll forgive my presumption in calling you my friend,” she said. “I understand that you’re a duke’s daughter and I’m just the daughter of one of the laird’s warriors. I know that in England class and such means a great deal. But it’s different here and I –“

  “Oh pish and piddle,” Rose said, waving her hand. “It never meant anything to me, all that silliness. How does who or what your father is make you a better or worse person? ‘Tis the creation of people who lack enough to do. Since my brother took over, I’ve….,” she bit her tongue and looked down at her hands.

  “What?”

  Rose shrugged, and decided to be honest. “We’ve lost most everything. I lived in our country house and worked with the three servants who remained. They’ve been my friends and my family for the last few years. I’d be honored to make your acquaintance and I hope we’ll be friends but that would be much easier if I knew your name.”

  The girl laughed. “I’m Fiona Aiken. People I like usually call me Fee, except when they’re teasing me. Then they’ll call me ‘the problem’ which may be a bit accurate but is bloody annoying or Princess, which is pure nonsense. I’m just a village girl, after all. Flora is much closer to being a princess. Lord knows, her family treats her like royalty. What Flora wants, Flora gets.”

  “I can’t disagree with that,” Rose said, deciding that Fee was quite refreshing. “And I’m sure you know very well that they call you Princess because you’re so ravishing and likely because so many men want to rescue you.”

  Fee sat both trays between them and poured each of them a cup of water. The girl really was lovely. She had a perfect oval face, moss green eyes, and black hair.

  When she’d finished, she gestured to Rose to eat. “I’ve turned down more proposals than I can remember. It’s astonishing that men who think they want to spend their lives with me based on how I look somehow think they’re smart enough to rescue me. I dinna need rescuing and if I did, I expect I could do a fine job of it myself.”

  “I’m surprised that Ram hasn’t swept you off your feet by now,” Rose said. “That would have at least deprived Flora of one thing she wanted.”

  “One thing?” Fee asked. “Wedding the laird has been that girl’s sole thought since she was old enough to think. Save for that and this face I was cursed with, I expect that she and I might have been friends. I approached her once, a couple of years ago, to try to convince her that I had no feelings for the laird. I dinna think she believed me, for I dinna think she can imagine a female not wanting him.”

  “Well, she has him now,” Rose said, the words hurting nearly as much as the thought.

  “I’m nae so sure about that,” Fee said. “And there’s something wrong about the whole business. The laird was all over himself and drove everyone barmy getting that secluded cave ready for your lunch. As soon as he returned, Laird MacKenzie called him into the study. They had a meeting with a lot of shouting and cursing. That night Laird Ramsay confirmed his betrothal to Flora.”

  “Laird MacKenzie met with Ram right after lunch?” Rose asked. But when a vague hope tried to crawl into her head she shook her head no against it quickly. “They were likely negotiating settlements and such.”

  “Only if screaming ‘you fucking asshole’ several times was part of our laird’s negotiating strategy,” Fee said. “As I said, it makes no sense and the laird’s behavior afterwards makes it even stranger.”

  She shouldn’t ask the question. She shouldn’t ask the question. Bloody hell, she had to ask. “What behavior?”

  “Like you’ve not noticed,” Fee said, rolling her eyes. She stopped at the innocent look on her new friend
s face. “Really? You’ve not noticed? Well, you dinna know the laird the way that we do. So, perhaps you haven’t.”

  Rose felt the flush creeping across her face. She tried reciting the Greek alphabet in her head. When that didn’t help, she switched to Bible verses. But even the lyrical pull of her favorite soul-stirring verses couldn’t wipe out images from last night or a few days ago. They blended into a series of pictures that interchanged reality with fantasy until she squeaked and covered her face with her hands.

  Fascinated, Fee watched in silence and cannily guessed at the meaning of Rose’s rosy moment. She smiled, and said, “And I’m given to ken that ye know the laird in ways that we don’t.”

  Rose mumbled, “I said nothing of the sort.”

  Fee shrugged and her smile broadened to a grin. “Aye, ye did. But anyway, since the laird confirmed his betrothal to Flora, he’s nay spent a minute alone with her. In fact, if she approaches him he gets downright surly to her, says something nasty and walks away. And that’s not like him. He’s always been kind to Flora in the way a man is kind to a little sister. The way he’s treating her now smacks of revenge.”

  After swallowing a piece of cheese, Rose said, “That makes no sense.”

  “Nay, it doesn’t but there’s more,” Fee said. “He watches you constantly. If you’re in the area, he knows where you are and he’s glancing at you every few minutes. He arranged for your comfort and privacy for this trip in the way he’d have arranged for his wife. You’re the only person in the whole group of clans traveling with us who has a wagon to herself. Most of the lads just spread out under the stars. We’ve myself, my mother, my aunt and my cousin in a single wagon.”

  “Ram probably had other reasons for assigning me to a wagon alone,” Rose said. When the irrepressible Fee gave her the googly eyes, Rose considered her words, the events of last night and gave a blush that ‘twas as good as a confession. Not that she’d make one, mind you. All she said was, “Your laird likely didn’t want me contaminating any of the clan. And here you are breaking bread with me. You should be worried.”

  Knowing that it was much too soon to expect such personal confidences, Fee didn’t push. She shrugged and said, “Truthfully, if it wasn’t for the laird’s behavior today I’d not be allowed to be here. My Da isn’t partial to the English.”

  Rose didn’t take offense to the vast understatement. She reached over, caught Fee’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “That’s all right. Given that my brother and his friends are all regarded as fine, upstanding members of London’s ton, I’d tend to agree with your Da.”

  Fee made a mental note to repeat that comment to her father. It might be enough to redeem her new friend to her Da–if Rose couldn’t or wouldn’t help today’s mission of mercy. “I’ve wanted to make your acquaintance since you arrived, but Da forbid it. From the start, I felt that you and I might be friends. I’d really like a friend.”

  Rose waved a hand. “I’m sure you have many.”

  Sadness darkened Fee’s eyes. “No. I’ve tried many times, but it never works out. There’s always a boyfriend or even a husband. Bloody buggers, I thought a young married lady would make a fine friend. I tried three times. Every single, soulless varmint of a husband made a play for me and every desperate, dithering damsel of a wife blamed me. I’d given up until you arrived.”

  Rose pushed aside the food she’d barely touched. “I’ve been quite lonely as well. Hugh and David have been very kind and I enjoy their company but I’ve exchanged no confidences with them.” She watched the water in her glass sparkle and it reminded her of the diamond in her memory she couldn’t forget. “Ram was different. He and I really talked and shared but that’s all over now, of course. He has Flora for a confidante and I’ve no one so you’ve arrived just in time.”

  “The thing is that I’d argued and argued with Da about wanting to meet you and he flatly refused to consider it until today. Having him agree to our acquaintance solely to suit his convenience doesn’t sit well a’tall, but I’d still hardly say no,” Fee said.

  “I’m confused,” Rose said. “Of what use could I possibly be to your father?”

  “He’s desperate as are all the warriors,” Fee said. “It’s nae a sight I thought I’d ever see, such strong men skittering from group to group, sharing tales of woe, playing my injury is worse than yours–all the while, keeping a careful eye out for Ramsay the Terrible.”

  Rose nearly dropped her cup. “What?”

  “Aye,” Fee said. “Today, the warriors decided that the laird deserves the title more than Ivan. He’s been nigh impossible–demanding feats that the Greek Gods couldn’t perform, picking fights and ordering the most extreme punishments for the most minor infractions. One of the men had to shave his hair and his beard and another had to go on liquid rations for a week.”

  “Goodness,” Rose said, trying and failing at not picturing the man who fit her vision of a Greek God.

  “Do you have any idea what the two men’s infraction had in common?” Fee asked.

  Rose shook her head no.

  “You,” Fee said.

  “Me?” Rose asked. “Impossible. I’ve not left the wagon. In fact, I’ve mostly been resting.”

  “Not resting,” Fee said, “you’ve been feigning sleep. Anyway, the one had to shave his hair and his beard because he was passing your wagon when he bent down to adjust his shoe and lost his balance. His head hit the corner of your wagon and a strand of his hair got stuck between the boards. He cursed and struck your wagon with his hand.”

  “And Ram made him shave his hair and his beard?” Rose asked. “That makes no sense for he didn’t disturb me. I was unaware it happened.”

  “You don’t understand,” Fee said. “The man near fainted from his relief after the half hour it took for Ram to rescind his original punishment.”

  “Which was?” Rose asked.

  “He was going to chop off the poor lad’s hand,” Fee said.

  “Ha!” Rose huffed. “You had me up to that point.”

  “Sadly, I’m not jesting,” Fee said. “The second lad made the mistake of shouting while standing beside your wagon. He wasn’t using profanity and he was answering a question from the laird’s first. The laird decided he needn’t be as harsh in that case.”

  “I, ahm, ahm, just, no, no,” Rose said, shaking her head. She fiddled with her hands, nervously, before she decided to be honest–up to a point. She really wanted a friend here and lies never fed a friendship. “I’ve hidden in the wagon all day. Last night Ram and I had a dispute of a somewhat personal nature and I’ve been too uncertain to face him. I’m not sure if I’ll hit him, ignore him, scream–or do something worse.”

  Fee wanted to ask about that personal dispute, but doubted that would get Rose out of the wagon. ‘Twould more likely get her tossed. Instead, she used Rose’s weakness against her–after all, the girl had to leave the wagon sometime and Fee owed it to her Da to make that sometime now. “Well, if it was only the two, it wouldn’t be so bad. Worse than the laird’s wicked punishments, has been his deciding to give the warriors battle lessons in the midst of a trip to the games. Why, ‘tis unheard of! This journey and the games themselves are about bonding and promoting alliances as much as fun and competition.”

  “But the warriors are honored to get this personal time from the laird, aren’t they?”

  “Under other circumstances, and with the laird acting anything like himself, they might be. But he’s being too direct with the training. He picks a pair known to be in a dispute about something and stands off to the side giving instructions that are insults. He goads them until one or both makes a mistake or does something to give away the strategy of their next move. Then the laird steps in to ‘show them the proper way’ and inevitably, one or both of the lads gets hurt.”

  That caught Rose’s attention. “Hurt?”

  “Aye. And the healer is laid up with an ague or some such. The wounds of the four or five laid up aren’t grievous but they
need tending,” Fee said. “And the laird needs calming before someone gets seriously hurt.”

  Rose was already bustling around, gathering her kit. By the time Fee finished, the English lady nearly bristled with impatience. “Shall we?” Rose asked.

  “Shall we what?” Fee asked, biting back her grin.

  “Go to tend the wounded, of course,” Rose replied, already heading out of the wagon with Fee following. Rose turned around to climb down from the wagon and started when strong arms grabbed her before her feet hit the ground.

  “Careful now, little lady,” said a braw young warrior, “or ye’ll hurt yerself. I don’t even want to think what the laird would do to me if that happened.” He grabbed Rose’s upper arm, clinching it hard enough to make her wince, and ignored Fee, leaving her to scramble down on her own. “Ye aren’t injured, are ye, lady? Tell me ye’re well or I’ll, I’ll …,”

  “Dear duck,” Rose said, taken aback at the warrior’s intense concern. “I’m fine. Are you well? Perhaps you’ve had too much sun.”

  “In the Scottish Highlands?” Fee asked, scampering alongside. “More like too much laird.”

  “Aye, Fee,” the warrior said. “But, Lady Rose, ye don’t need to bother yourself with the lads. None of them are really –“

  “But Fraser,” Fee interrupted, “isn’t it grand to have Rose’s company–now that she’s left the wagon?”

  Even a warrior so bedazzled by lush feminine beauty couldn’t fail to catch Fee’s meaning. Fraser grimaced as he did, having a growing desire to kick himself in the arse. Since the laird might do that for him sooner rather than later, Fraser leapt ahead, pointing to a shaded, flat area only a few steps from the lake. “The wounded are there, my lady.”

  “Convenient access to water,” Rose said, turning to head in that direction with Fee on her heels.