Eyes of the Cat
Page 12
“Child, forgive me,” he said weakly. “I’ve been a selfish old fool. I was so wrapped up in my own pain, I never stopped to consider anything else. I should have made certain you were provided for before I ever left the East.”
“Why? I’m quite capable of providing for myself. It’s not like I was your responsibility, Dr. Earnshaw.” She returned to her algebra. At least there, she understood what was happening.
“Spoken just as Matilda would have said it.” Zachary chuckled, although there was little humor in the sound, so far as Tabitha could tell.
She finished the last calculation and handed him back his notebook. “Aren’t you going to check them?” she asked when he slipped it into his pocket with scarcely a glance.
“Why bother? I’m certain they’re correct. Matilda taught you very well.” He gave her a dry smile. “Almost too well.” Turning, he headed out the door, suddenly so lost in thought, he was nearly bowled over by Mary, who came rolling in like a calico storm cloud.
“Whoops, sorry, Dr. Earnshaw.” She made a beeline for Tabitha, who had just grabbed a comb away from Alan and was shakily attempting to fix her own hair. “Finally! Do you know I nearly had kittens when I came back here before and found you gone? I’ve been charging all over creation trying to find you. I had visions of you fainting and falling into the moat,” she fumed.
“No, just a vat of beer.” Tabitha fumbled with the comb and her tangle of damp curls.
“So I heard. About Dunstan, too. You may live to regret that,” Mary said with a sudden grin. “Here, let me do that. You’re making it worse.” Elbowing Alan aside, she relieved Tabitha of the comb and rustled down beside her on the bed.
“Regret what?” Tabitha winced as the comb hit a snag.
“Sorry,” Mary apologized, deftly smoothing that handful of locks and moving on to the next. “I’m referring to Dunstan, of course. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but I’m afraid you’ve turned that revolting toad into your devoted, doglike admirer and the defender of your good name. You may be a witch, after all.” She grinned again. “Do you want to hear what your new champion did in your honor?”
“Do we have a choice?” Alan grumbled.
Ignoring him, Mary tossed the comb aside and began braiding Tabitha’s hair into a long, loose plait, never pausing in her running monologue. “He was on his way back to the keep when he overheard that idiot Geordie and one of his idiot chums outside the brewers’ shed. They were saying…um, some rather rude things about you, apparently.”
“I’m not surprised. I did ruin a lot of their work.” Tabitha sighed, wishing Mary would hurry up and finish, so she could find somewhere to lay her head before it tumbled off her shoulders. The drunkenness had finally played itself out, leaving her with another new experience. Her first hangover. On top of everything else, it made her skull feel like it weighed more than the rest of her did all together.
“Well, Dunstan ruined some more work for them,” Mary continued cheerfully. “He grabbed Geordie in one hand and the chum in the other, dragged them into the shed and spoiled a second vat by holding them in it until their legs turned blue. That was all you could see of them, I mean—their legs sticking out from under their kilts. The rest of them was under beer. I was watching from the door of the shed, and I started laughing so hard, I almost—”
“Mary, thank you for your help and your entertaining news.” Alan grasped her by her puff-sleeved shoulders, hoisted her to her feet and steered her to the door. “Tabitha needs some rest now. Why don’t you climb out on the tower ledge again and practice the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet? Maybe Simon will help you with it.”
“Ew. If I were Juliet and he were Romeo, I’d drink real poison instead of a sleeping draught.” The door closed in her face. “Tabitha honey, I’ll try to look in on you later,” she called through it.
“Uhh,” Tabitha said, the best response she could manage at the moment. Huddled at the top of the bed with her lower back braced against the headboard, her arms locked around her legs, and her heavy, throbbing head balanced on her knees, she fancied she could actually feel the heat from Alan’s eyes beaming down on her.
“For a lass who wasn’t even supposed to get out of bed, you’ve had a busy day so far.” His husky voice stroked over her almost like the touch of a hand.
The sensation was the last thing she needed.
“Leave me alone,” she mumbled into her knees. “You were right when you said I need rest. Just go away and let me die in peace.”
“You’ll rest easier if you lie down,” that voice caressed her again.
“I can’t. If I move, my head will explode.”
The mattress tilted as he sat beside her. Her stomach tilted even more when his arms slid around her waist, drawing her back against him.
“Here, lean on me. Does that feel better?”
If she’d had a gun right then, Tabitha may very well have shot herself. Because it did feel better. It felt so incredibly good, she couldn’t prevent herself from sinking farther into him and letting her head nestle under his chin. His face dipped down, and her breath hitched as he kissed her on the sensitive spot where neck met shoulder. Slowly and carefully, he nibbled his way up to her earlobe.
“Mmm, you taste a bit like beer.”
“I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. What else was there to say?
“Nothing to be sorry about. I happen to enjoy good beer.” He nuzzled her temple. “And Geordie’s a flaming fool if he thinks you could spoil any of that swill he produces. If he hasn’t poured it out yet, I’m going to order him to keg the vat you toppled into for my personal use. It’ll be the sweetest batch that scoundrel has ever brewed. Mmm…”
Tabitha’s stomach turned several somersaults as Alan’s lips slid back down to her shoulder and his hands slid up to her breasts. “Don’t… Stop that!”
“Don’t stop? All right.” His hands tightened gently over their marks, and his thumbs started doing something unbelievably distracting.
It sent a jolt through her that nearly melted her toenails—and surprised him, apparently, with the intensity of her reaction.
His hands dropped, and he eased out from behind, lowering her carefully to the pillows and bracing an arm on each side of her. “I wonder if you’ll still feel that way about me after we’ve been married for fifty years.”
Her hand lashed out, striking him across the cheek.
Those amber eyes never even blinked. “Satisfied now?”
“No!”
“Too bad, because you’ll not get another chance to try that. Be still now. Or I may be tempted to forget my grandmother’s warnings. If you’ve survived everything else you’ve done today, I doubt the loss of your maidenhead will kill you.”
Tabitha almost choked on her anger. Anger at him for threatening and humiliating her. And fury with herself for the sudden tears stinging her face. “Stop playing games with me!”
The dangerous glint in his eyes dissolved. With a raspy sigh, he collapsed onto his back and pulled her over on top of him. “Please don’t cry. I’m not playing with you, dear.”
For some reason, the tenderness of his tone made the tears flow all the faster. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath to stop them, while Alan did nothing but wrap her in his arms and wait for the sobs to still.
“I was trying to help you relax…to take your mind off your headache,” he finally said. It brought a half hysterical burst of laughter out of her. “I know. Not one of my brighter ideas. I’m sorry. I let myself get carried away. ’Tis an easy thing to do with you.”
Gently rolling her off him, he propped up on an elbow to gaze down at her. “This is partly your own fault, you know. ’Tis that way you have of looking at me like I’m some sort of a devil. It makes me want to behave like one.”
Her heart hammering her ribs, she stared up at him, her eyes like a cornered doe’s.
“You see? You’re doing it again. You should really watch that,” he warned.
The words pushed him back several inches. “Excuse me?” he said, a hard edge sharpening his tone.
“You’re trying to steal me from myself. You’re keeping me from everything I’ve worked and planned for—as though none of it has the slightest meaning or value,” she said raggedly, her breath coming in short gasps. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? Can you possibly understand how it feels to have your whole existence ripped out from under you?”
The laugh he let out could have rivaled a rusty saw blade in its harshness. It cut through Tabitha as roughly as one.
“I understand better than you could possibly imagine,” he ground out. Then bolted off the bed with an explosive curse when a light knock sounded. “I thought I left orders I wasn’t to be disturbed anymore today,” he growled at the unfortunate little maid who peeked timidly through the door.
“I’m sorry, sir, but ’twas a messenger for you jus’ now. He said for me tae give you this. ’Tis urgent, he said.” She handed him a crumpled scrap of paper, then quickly curtseyed her way out of sight.
Alan took one glance at the message, cursed again, ripped his shirt off, and began snatching different garments out of the dresser.
Oh, God, he’s going Comanche, again.
Tabitha dove face first into a pillow and stayed there…until the mattress sloped with his weight, and a strong hand rolled her over to look at him.
“’Tis safe to come out now,” he said, caging her between his arms and staring at her with an expression that seemed anything but safe.
“I wasn’t hiding.” She tried not to swallow too loudly at the sight of that naked, tanned chest rippling above her. This was the way she had first viewed him, all savage, primeval strength and sensuality. But it had been a little easier to deal with then, before she’d known who he actually was, when she had thought this guise was real. Now it only reminded her of all the things about him that confused and unnerved, even frightened her. “I was just…just resting.”
“Aye,” Alan said, obviously knowing better but not considering it worth a contradiction. “Now listen to me—I have to leave you for a bit, but after Dunstan’s punishment today, I doubt anyone will even consider bothering you. You’re to stay in this room, however, while I’m gone. I don’t want to return and find that you’ve been getting caught in trees, or tripping into vats, or any other nonsense. Do you understand me?” His eyes pinned her to the bed.
Staring motionless up at him, Tabitha gave the ghost of a nod, feeling her indignation rise along with a hot blush.
“Not good enough. I want your promise that you’ll stay put, Tabitha, or I’ll be forced to—”
“You’ll be forced to what? Stake me to an ant hill?”
His expression went black, and his voice when it came sounded like cold steel. “That was uncalled for.”
“The hell it was. I don’t have to promise you a blasted thing,” she said, anger making her reckless. “Since when does a prisoner owe her jailor anything? I’m being held here against my will, damn it. Have you forgotten that? I don’t want to be here!”
“That may be. But you are here, and here you’ll stay. So you’d best learn to like it.”
“That’s preposterous!” she hissed, too filled with a seething self-righteousness to heed the warning in his look. “You can’t keep me a captive much longer, anyway. But even if you could, there is no way that you can possibly make me like it.”
“Can’t I?”
Too late she realized what she’d prompted. Alan’s weight pressed her into the mattress; his lips were on hers before she could even think of resisting. And once the kiss had begun, she didn’t want to try. It held her like a silken snare, soft and slow and exquisitely sweet. Even from the center of the bonfire it lit within her, she could tell what infinite care he was taking to not hurt her bruised face. For some reason, that awareness made the experience all the more devastating.
And not just for her, it seemed. Alan’s gaze, when he finally raised his head, was almost frightening in its emotional depth. Tabitha nearly drowned in it. It was hunger and passion and longing and a sort of desperate tenderness all crystallized together into a single heart-stopping look. It shot deep into her—then was gone so abruptly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.
“Did you like that?” His low voice smoked over her.
Like?
How could he relate such a simple term as like to what that sweet, soul-shattering kiss had done to her?
“No,” she tried to answer truthfully, but she could barely get the single syllable out.
A small, satisfied grin touched the corners of that wickedly sensual mouth. “That’s what I thought.”
Rolling off, he stood by the bed, staring down at her for several long breaths, his powerful chest rising and falling with each one. “No more nonsense now. You’ll bide me and stay put while I’m gone.” He strode for the door with a feral feline grace. “I should be back before dawn.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” Tabitha drawled, finding her voice the moment his eyes were off her.
The only sign that he heard was a slight tensing of shoulders and spine as he paused an instant in the doorway. “You’re not fooling anyone but yourself, you know,” his whisper filtered back to her as he stepped into corridor.
Huddling deeper into the pillows, she heard the door pull shut behind him with an ominous, decisive click.
Chapter 6
Alan did not return to the castle before dawn as he had said he would. Nor did he return after dawn. He didn’t return at all.
It had been mid-afternoon the day he’d ridden out, but by the time the sun had disappeared in rosy flames behind the western ramparts the following day there was still no sign of him, and Tabitha had begun to feel oddly concerned. Why, she couldn’t imagine. It made about as much sense as a condemned man worrying over what had happened to his executioner. She could only assume her head injury had rattled her reasoning more than she’d realized.
It had kept her abed the remainder of the previous day, at any rate. Despite her outer aches and inner turmoil—or maybe because of them—she had fallen into a heavy doze shortly after Alan departed, and hadn’t roused until the sun was low and the food that had been set upon the table hours before was stone cold and barely edible. Tabitha had eaten some of it anyway, because she’d awoken ravenous. And bolstered by that, had promptly fallen into a second sleep and a long, muddled series of dreams that kept her tossing in the big bed until late morning.
She’d remembered little about them on waking, but they had left her with the same confusing sense of overlaying images that the former night’s dream had triggered—the uncanny perception that she was herself yet someone else, too, someone who had lived at Castle MacAllister decades before. An extremely awkward feeling, and one that was not made more graceful by the fact that half the castle’s community seemed suddenly and perversely determined to treat her like she had always been a valued member of the clan.
“It’s your own fault. I warned you that you’d regret making Alan free Dunstan. They want to court your favor now because it seems you have such a powerful influence over their laird,” Mary teased.
She and Tabitha were strolling the inside perimeter of the outer courtyard, looking like a couple of spring blossoms in the last rays of the setting sun, with Mary in a vivid blue muslin creation that intensified her eyes, and Tabitha in a ruffled confection of peaches and cream organdy that made her feel like a French pastry. She hated it, but no more than the rest of Gabrina’s criminally feminine trousseau, and at least the organdy was cool in the warm evening air. She managed a stiff wave and stiffer smile as several men returning from some outside labor hailed her with big, toothy grins and a bushel full of unwanted compliments on her “bonny frock.”
“Maybe I should have worn the lime taffeta. It would
have set off my bruises better,” she grumbled.
“Actually, your bruises are fading already. In a day or two, they’ll hardly be noticeable. Molly’s cures work like magic.” The redhead stifled a yawn. “Are you sure you don’t want to go in now? I know Molly said it would be all right for you to have some exercise today, but we’ve walked the whole castle from end to end five times over. Aren’t you tired?”
She had a point. From end to end, as the crow flew, the interior of the castle complex was over three hundred yards. And the two females had been skirting the perimeters of both the inner and outer courts, more than doubling that distance. A prodigious amount of legwork. But tiring?
“Hardly,” Tabitha murmured. She’d had enough sleep the previous day to fuel her for a week. Even without that, nerves alone would have kept her feet pumping. She had too much to think about, and for Tabitha, thought and motion had always gone together. Her brain seemed to be inextricably connected to her legs. “You can turn in, if you like.”
“No, I’ll stay with you. But we’ll have to give up soon. It’ll be too dark for this in a bit. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for out here, anyway.”
Tabitha pulled up short. “And just what do you think I’m looking for?”
Mary gazed at her as though she’d given the girl credit for more intelligence than that. “An escape route, naturally. But it can’t be done from out here. I know. I’ve already checked all the possibilities.”
“You…” Tabitha’s jaw dropped as awareness struck.
“That’s right.” Mary shrugged. “I never intended for things to go this way, of course, but I’m as much a prisoner as you. Except my position is a little safer because Uncle Matchmaker Angus hasn’t decided yet which one of his toads—I mean, sons—he wants to inflict upon me. I suspect it may come down to a contest of ‘tossing the caber.’ With me as the prize.” She took Tabitha’s hand as they neared the middle wall that separated the two courtyards. And, curiously enough, Tabitha’s hand was the one that was shaking.