“I wanted fresh air.”
She tucked her face into the folds of his leine. He held her gently as he carried her to the house, but his chest remained tight. Although he didn’t want to, he’d have to punish her for disobeying him.
“Foolish lass! Had I not forgotten my pouch and returned…”
He didn’t want to think about what could have happened. She needed to learn his word must be obeyed.
* * *
Later that night, Laurie entered the hall and gingerly sat on the edge of a bench, refusing to look at Patrick. He sat in the large ornate chair at the head of the table all superior-like as if he were the CEO of a large corporation above reproach. She tapped her foot on the floor, livid, enraged with anger and humiliation she barely contained. He not only scolded her when they returned to the house, he put her over his knees and spanked her. Her backside still smarted from his not so tender lesson.
He’d called her a stubborn wench when after one smack she refused to beg his forgiveness. As if, she forced him to hit her. When she finally gave in and screamed at him to stop, he made her promise to never again go anywhere without an escort.
How could I have thought I wanted to marry him? Forgotten he was a barbarian?
She raised her chin. Her pride stung. He treated her like a disobedient child. She wasn’t used to being manhandled. Her uncle never once spanked her as a child.
Patrick’s abuse outraged her. She deserved a scolding. Nothing more. When they returned to Castle Lachlan, she would try again to return home.
“Lass, I did not want to hurt you.” He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “How else am I to make you understand the risks you take?”
Laurie glanced at the others in the room to make sure no one listened. “A simple lecture would have been sufficient.” She glared at him, daring him to disagree.
Before he could respond, the others joined them at the table and the evening meal was served.
Apparently, he wasn’t only angry with her. He gave Duncan a pointed look and the poor man lowered his head, his ears turning bright red. What punishment had he received? The festival-goers probably heard Patrick’s bellows earlier when he yelled at Duncan for allowing her to leave the house unguarded. She’d be lucky if in the future she could use the loo without Duncan following her in.
She toyed with the food on her trencher unable to eat. She didn’t feel like participating in the lively conversations around her. Patrick watched her with an unfathomable intensity that served to piss her off more.
Working herself into a fine tizzy, she wanted to hit something—someone. Patrick. “Excuse me. I’m not feeling well.” She stood.
Patrick raised an eyebrow. She glared at him, hurried to her chamber and threw herself onto the bed, pounding her fists in frustration. She threw a pillow at the wall. God, she hated him.
In the bright light of morning, things appeared different, became clearer. He was partly right. She’d made a judgment error. She never should have left the safety of the house and grounds on her own. Not being used to such restrictions, she hadn’t thought it through. Hadn’t thought taking a walk a big deal.
She’d been wrong. Patrick was a barbarian. But she loved the darn barbarian.
He’d only done what he thought necessary to make her understand. His customs were different from those of the twenty-first century. His only wish to keep her safe.
Oh, but she’d find a way to make him pay for the brutal treatment. She’d teach him that although his motives were pure his methods needed adjusting.
She wanted him to prove he could be gentle. That he wasn’t a brute. She wanted to believe their marriage would be full of unconditional love and mutual understanding.
Until then, she would devise a way to make him suffer.
* * *
On the morning they were to leave Glasgow, Patrick personally saw to the loading of the packhorses. He sent Lachlan on his way with the cattle and horses, well-guarded by a heavily armed escort. Then he gathered the rest of his entourage and they left the burgh for Dumbarton and home.
The return trip was, for the most part, uneventful, yet progressed slower with fewer men to operate the oars. They spent three nights sleeping in the greenwood, avoiding the sheriff of Bute’s land. The first night passed in an oak wood near Greenock, the second at the edge of a secluded bay on the small isle of Cumbrae and finally the last night near Tarbert Castle. Once again, they managed to sail past Lamont country without challenge.
A deep chasm developed between he and Laurie while they sailed from Dumbarton. She remained sullen and uncommunicative, still harboring ill feelings over what she believed to be his heavy-handed treatment of her. The silence between them became unbearable.
He left her to sleep alone the first two nights.
On the last night, he lay behind her and despite her chilly reception pulled her back against his chest. She stiffened.
“You must get over this huff of yours and forgive me. I merely did what I had to do to make you see your folly.” Patrick kissed the nape of her neck. She shivered and melted against him. Pulling her closer, he molded her to his hard body and tenderly held her.
“I haven’t forgiven you.”
“I ken, but you must.”
Several tense minutes passed, and Patrick didn’t believe Laurie would respond. He shut his eyes and counted backward from one hundred.
The previous two nights, Laurie had been cold and miserable and lonely. She missed Patrick’s embrace. She couldn’t hold on to her anger. “You could’ve just given me a lecture, you know,” she said.
By his even breathing, she knew she wouldn’t get a response so she elbowed him.
“What?”
“I want you to promise you’ll never hit me again.”
“I cannae. If you refuse to follow my dictates, I will be forced to punish you.”
“In my time, we’ve learned hitting doesn’t change behavior. It only increases hostility.”
He sighed so heavily she felt his breath on her neck. “You dinnae understand the dangers.”
“And you don’t trust me,” she accused.
He held her and was quiet for a long time.
When she’d given up on him, he responded, “I will agree to try to have words with you only. But you must promise to never wander off alone again.”
Maybe he could be taught. Laurie crossed her fingers. “I promise.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“I forgive you.”
“Good.” His lips moved against her neck. She felt his grin as she relaxed against him.
* * *
Afternoon sunshine brightened the stone of Castle Lachlan as the oarsman brought them closer to shore. Laurie shifted restlessly on her seat, eager to be home.
Home. Castle Lachlan had really become her home.
Dhughall, who’d been left in charge of the castle while they were gone, hurried to greet them as they beached. Patrick jumped over the side and onto shore. The two men walked away to confer, their heads close together.
Laurie’s gaze followed Patrick. A deep frown burrowed into his face. Whatever news Dhughall reported must be bad.
The birlinn swayed and Duncan offered his hand, assisting her from the boat. The ground seemed to waver under her feet and he held her arm until she gained balance. Then she waited for Elspeth to join her.
“’Tis good to be home,” the young woman said.
“Oh, yeah.” Laurie rolled her neck.
Then Patrick distracted her with an obscene gesture.
“What has my brother in a lather?”
“I’m not sure. But it must be bad.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked when he returned to escort her to the castle.
“’Tis naught.” He held his jaw tight.
“Why don’t you trust me?”
“’Tis nothing.” A forced smile curled his lips. “Shall we go?”
She knew the lie for what it was. Something was terribly wrong.
Patrick placed her hand on his arm and escorted her toward the castle.
She couldn’t understand why he refused to share his troubles. Without trust, their marriage was doomed. Should she reconsider staying?
“I wish a moment to myself. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a walk on the beach and get my land legs back.”
“Duncan will join you.”
“Of course.”
As she strolled near the water’s edge, she remembered the night she traveled through time. A full moon had glowed over the garden gate. Had Caitrina not pushed her, Laurie would have moved through the gate drawn by the glimmering moonlight. A revelation caught her by surprise—the moon. She knew how the magic worked; she felt the rightness of it in every fiber of her being. Should she try the faerie knoll again or talk some sense into her stupid man?
A glorious sunset glimmered over the mauve-colored hills. She walked along the pebbly beach, gazing across the loch, marveling at such beauty. As the last trace of vermillion faded from sight, she wrapped her arms around her chest and made a decision. She would stay and work things out with Patrick. She would teach him how to confide in her. How to give her his trust.
She dragged her gaze over the water, one last time, ready to return to the castle. The silhouette of a galley approached from the west.
Warning horns sounded from the watchtower.
Before she moved, Duncan ran to her from where he’d been standing at the edge of the beach, grabbed her hand and dragged her at a run toward the castle gate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tir-nan-óg
Most of Caitrina’s endless life, she performed impossibly difficult tasks at the dictate of the faerie queen with the hope of regaining her royal status. To once again live and play amongst the other faeries in paradise, in Tir-nan-óg, was her heart’s greatest desire.
Dammit, she’d been so close with Laurie and the MacLachlan.
Once they mated, she could move on to the second match of the queen’s three-match challenge. Then the third. Too bad Oonagh interfered.
Caitrina skimmed a hand along the length of a rich velvet curtain. Here she was, ensconced in luxury at the palace within Tir-nan-óg, on the whim of the queen.
But as a prisoner.
At least she was alone. Oonagh had left the palace to meet her consort for merrymaking at a distant faerie pageant. Had the queen not realized Caitrina would plot escape?
Caitrina paced the confines of the chamber, indifferent to its splendor. Lost in thought, she stopped before a crystal table and ran her fingers through the collection of sapphires displayed in a cut glass bowl. Outside, on the veranda, one of Oonagh’s boy toys strutted across the tile to the pool—nude—and dove in. He emerged to his waist a few steps from Caitrina, wet muscles on his packed chest glistening in golden sunlight. Her mind whirled furiously and she settled on a cunning plan.
With a thought, she changed her glamour to that of a veiled harem girl and stepped from the queen’s boudoir, through the curtains, onto the warm tile. She smiled with her eyes to entice the lesser faerie. She wouldn’t think of Douglas while she seduced her prey.
“Gabriel,” she purred.
Desire flashed in her quarry’s green eyes and with feline grace, he leapt from the water. She read his intention to dry himself with a thought and shook her head.
“I like you wet.” Her tone was a husky come-hither invitation.
Gabriel didn’t disappoint. His cock grew into a splendid erection.
Caitrina hesitated. How could she betray Douglas? She had to. Besides, they didn’t really have a relationship. He only thought so because he was human. She needed to use Gabriel and one of his woman to escape.
Before she lost her nerve, she swung her hips in an erotic belly dance, ripping the gauzy, lavender strips of her gossamer garments one by, ever so slowly, one. When the last piece of fabric fell, Gabriel reeled her into his body, lifted her, and carried her to the poolside, chaise lounge.
When his fingers caressed her inner thigh, she pretended he was Douglas.
She couldn’t do this. She stayed his hand.
“Perhaps we could enjoy a threesome.” Caitrina placed a persuasion spell on the words.
His eyes flared. “I will summon Briganna.”
The beautiful lesser faerie, trained to sexually please, appeared beside Gabriel and they both joined Caitrina on the wide chase. With a kiss to each of their lips, Caitrina planted a sleep spell and slipped from the palace using Briganna’s glamour. As much as she wanted to stay in Tir-nan-óg, she couldn’t.
She needed to complete the match quickly, before the queen became aware of her escape. It was essential for Caitrina to find and silence that meddling MacLachlan brownie. Stop him before he exerted more harm.
Cloaked in Scottish glamour, she stilled her mind and sought Munn. She inhaled a deep breath, seeking composure, and sent her feelings into the mortal realm. Where would be the most likely place to find Munn?
When she sensed his whereabouts, she dissolved into tiny particles, moving through the gray mist unseen, through the veil of time and space.
She swept into the MacLachlan stables on the lightest of breezes and slowly coalesced into solid form, appearing in the loft. She found Munn there, perched in the rafters, watching the young lads groom Patrick’s favorite horse.
Munn faced her. He stuttered, his ramblings becoming nonsensical, on and on he blathered, accusing her of every imaginable heinous misdeed.
“Whist, wee man. You shall not reveal anything to anyone.”
The queen wasn’t here to protect him. He spun, ready to escape, but wasn’t fast enough. Caitirna raised her arms over her head in an arc and seized his voice.
Munn attempted to speak. Nothing passed his lips.
No words. No sound.
No anything. His voice was gone.
Caitrina grinned then vanished, heading through time to the future.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Patrick couldn’t believe the audacity of the Lamont. To have an unfriendly galley anchored in his bay. To have Lamont and his men at his gates demanding entry—requesting hospitality—the possible significance greatly troubled him.
His uncle, who had taken up residence in the castle while Patrick was in Glasgow, compounded his unease. The man claimed to have reconsidered his outburst during the council meeting prior to the raid and now spouted the need for unity. Could the union be not of the family but that of his uncle with the Lamont?
Pondering his next move, Patrick slammed his fist on the worktable. He glanced at Stephen and met his cousin’s worried gaze. “Meet Lamont and offer our hospitality in my name. Have Dhughall see to Lamont’s lads and make sure our men watch them. After Lamont has refreshed himself, bring him to my private chamber.”
“We could bar the gates.” Stephen’s lips formed a grim line.
“Aye, if only I could. I will not risk war. Offer our hospitality. But keep your weapons at the ready.”
Stephen left him to his troubled thoughts. Patrick walked to a window and peered out. Rubbing his forehead with a tense hand, he tried to relieve the pressure building there.
What are the wily old rascals about?
* * *
A tapping sound startled Elspeth when Munn appeared in her solar. He danced around the chamber, whirling in circles at a dizzying pace. In the glow of the candles, his shadow spun on the walls.
“Where have you been, my wee man? I have missed you.”
Munn made frantic motions with his arms, silently imploring her with stark eyes, gesturing for her to follow him.
“What game is this?” she asked. “Do tell.”
He remained mute, continuing to gesture, beckoning her to come with him.
“If I must, I will come. But I dinnae ken what you are about.” She laughed at his antics.
Taking the lantern from atop a chest, she lit the wick and followed him through the castle.
No one else seemed to notice
Munn as she followed him. She suspected he used a cloaking glamour to hide from the others’ view.
What could he possibly be up to?
He made his way down the stairs and through the courtyard and out the gate. Munn paused in front of one of the larger planting beds. The one herb bed that was special, almost sacred, to Elspeth. Her mother planted it several years prior, before she disappeared with Elspeth’s father. Munn dug in the soil with his hands.
Elspeth knelt beside him, holding the lantern to see what he was doing.
“Stop! You mustn’t dig here. My lady-mother planted these herbs,” she scolded, annoyed by his disregard for the precious little plants he uprooted in his haste.
He ignored her and continued to dig, breathing heavy as he did so. He tugged at something, putting a considerable amount of exertion into the effort, and then fell backward across the path onto his arse, landing in a patch of strawberries.
Elspeth’s annoyance turned into delight. Munn held an intricately carved box. “What is this?” she asked, reaching for the small wooden chest. “What did you find?”
The wee man leapt away, shaking his head. He shoved a stubby hand into the pouch hanging from his belt and retrieved a tiny brass key, which he handed to her.
She wrinkled her brow.
His gaze darted around the garden then with relaxed shoulders, he returned his attention to Elspeth and handed over the box. Before she could question him further, he disappeared into the fine mist that shrouded the garden, leaving her puzzled.
What is inside that made the brownie act so strange? She examined the box then inserted the key into the small lock and twisted it. The lock fell open. She lifted the lid and gasped in shock.
Elspeth sat next to the herb bed heedless of her fine gown. She rummaged through the contents of the box. After examining everything, she replaced the lock with unsteady hands and turned the key, once again locking away the dreadful contents.
She stood and slowly walked out of the garden. Then she ran to the castle to find her brother.
Elspeth found him in his study. She hated being the one to bring the mysterious box’s contents to his attention. She could only imagine the possible consequences. Holding the chest tightly to her breast, she took a deep breath and rapped lightly on the door.
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 100
