Her eyes widened. “I may be old, but I am nae a daft fool, Nephew.” She rose. “I know Dòmhnall risked discovery by taking the stone. I leave it to ye to make certain it stays where it belongs.”
He nodded. “I will take care of it. Can ye see yourself to the garden?”
“Alexander…”
He waved her off. “Of course ye can.”
Alex sat down behind his father’s desk and poured himself a drink. He could not stop himself from pondering and wanted to put all of the pieces together. Did Sybella know? The question continued to hammer at him. Perhaps she didn’t. He could not simply ignore how gentle and loving his wife was. She was everything the MacKenzie clan was not. And he was proud to call her wife.
A thought froze in his mind.
Even thinking about the idea killed him. But what if Sybella did know of the stone? The harder Alex tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted. He downed the rest of his drink, realizing these wild ideas were driving him mad. He’d told Sybella repeatedly that he wanted nothing but honesty between them.
He decided to simply ask her.
Alex walked to the great hall and stopped at the clan crest. He never would’ve noticed that the stone was different in the eye of the raven if Aunt Iseabail hadn’t told him. Now he could see it as clear as day. He bent down and tugged at the rock, making sure it was still secure in its place.
“Alex.”
He stood as John walked toward him, a troubled expression upon his brow.
“What is it?”
John lowered his voice. “Mayhap we should go to your study.”
Alex nodded and once again found himself walking to his study. When John closed the door behind him, Alex grunted.
“Am I going to need another drink? I’ve already had my fill with Aunt Iseabail.” When John merely nodded, Alex sat down behind his father’s desk and poured them both some ale. He handed John a cup. “I am almost afraid to ask.”
“Alex, I am your friend. We are as brothers, but ye also made me the captain of your guard. I have a duty, responsibility.”
Alex spoke hesitantly. “Aye…”
“There is nay easy way to say this, but I must.” John took a drink from his tankard and then met Alex’s gaze. “Did ye speak with your wife about the dungeon?”
Alex shifted in his chair, studying John for a moment. “Aye. She told me she was there.”
“She told ye?” asked John, surprised.
Alex didn’t really want to share Sybella’s fears with John, but his friend was troubled over something. “She wanted to see where we held the MacLeod. She is fearful of me taking my leave to Lewis and thinks I leave her unprotected with MacGregor.”
“The MacLeod man is dead.”
“I tried to tell her the same, but ye know how lasses worry over naught. What is this about?”
“When I saw your wife from the wall, her behavior was odd, almost as if she didnae want to be spotted.”
“I’m sure she didnae. I would have throttled her myself had I seen her. ’Tis nay place for a woman.”
“I had one of my men follow her.”
“What? For what purpose?”
“I donna know, Alex. Something isnae quite right. And being that ye spend many an eve tupping the lass, mayhap ye are blinded by her actions.”
“What are ye saying? I think with my coc—”
John dropped a missive on the desk before Alex. “Read it.”
“What is this?” asked Alex, picking up the letter.
“Read it,” repeated John.
Alex read the words and his heart stopped.
Colin,
I found what you and Father seek. Please stop this madness before it is too late.
Ella
Eighteen
Sybella walked along the garden path, contemplating how she was going to free the stone from the great hall floor. She would need to find some kind of tool to loosen it. Perhaps she’d check the stables when everyone was asleep. She had another disturbing thought. Once she removed her clan’s stone, there would be a hole in the floor. She needed to find another rock to replace the one she would take.
She sat down on a bench and watched Rosalia and Ciaran play with Lachlann. Ciaran held his son up in the air and Lachlan smiled from ear to ear. When Rosalia reached out and touched her husband’s arm in a gentle gesture, his eyes held a tremendous amount of love for the woman standing by his side.
As Sybella watched the family together, she didn’t notice her own lips curving into a smile. From what Alexander said about his cousin, Rosalia had suffered hardship and discomfort before meeting Ciaran. But no one could tell from looking at the woman. Rosalia was proud, strong. And Alex’s cousin had certainly found her inner peace and her one true love. To be honest, Sybella was blissfully happy for Rosalia. And if Sybella was truthful with herself, perhaps she was even a bit jealous of the woman who stood before her. One thing was clearly evident: Rosalia was a survivor.
Every time Rosalia’s eyes met Ciaran’s, it was difficult not to notice the heartfelt love, understanding, and compassion that were exchanged between them. Sybella hoped that perhaps one day Alex would feel the same about her—well, as soon as she could clean up this mess her clan had created.
With that revelation, Sybella stood from the bench. “Pray excuse me. I think I will take a quick walk to the loch.”
Rosalia turned. “Do ye want us to come along with ye?”
“Nay, ye stay with your bonny lad. I will return soon.”
Sybella walked casually to the loch, her eyes searching the path along the way. There were no stones or rocks that would serve her purpose. She thought perhaps there might be more of a selection next to the water—at least, that was her hope.
Reaching the loch, she took a moment to merely stand there and admire the view. The sun was starting to set below the horizon, and the leaves rustled in the wind. She took a deep breath and let the fresh air stimulate her senses. When another round of painful memories started to invade her thoughts, she began to walk.
Tiny pebbles rolled onto the sandy shore. When she almost stumbled, she looked down and spotted a rock that would suit her purpose. She picked up the stone and wiped the gritty sand off the surface.
On safer ground now, Sybella paused to reflect a moment. She was astonished at the sense of completeness she felt at Glengarry. She truly loved everything about this place. From her home to the loch to her new kin, she could easily live out the rest of her days here. And as long as the man she loved was forever by her side…She smiled at the thought.
* * *
Alex couldn’t deny the evidence any longer. His wife was a traitor. A MacKenzie through and through. Curses fell from his mouth, and he knew that when he was crossed, his temper could be almost uncontrollable.
“What will ye do?” asked John.
Alex ran his hand through his hair, his movements agitated. “Before or after I kill her?”
John’s eyes widened. “Alex…”
Alex looked up at the ceiling. “God’s teeth, I can hear ye now, Father. I should’ve known the lass was naught but trouble from the start. Why in the hell would I even think about wedding a MacKenzie. Why?”
“Do ye really want me to answer that?”
Alex glowered at John, and the man had the nerve to raise his hands in mock surrender. “May I offer ye a suggestion?”
Alex closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “What?”
“Ye arenae going to speak with her now, are ye?”
“Speaking, nay. Throttling or running my sword through her, mayhap. Howbeit I donna trust her to speak the truth, and besides, she hasnae yet taken the stone. If I question her, she would simply deny it.” Alex paused, his thoughts racing. “I want ye to keep to the shadows and watch her every move. I entrust ye to do this, nae one of the men. After she takes the stone, I want to see her hand it over to the MacKenzie. We will deal with the two of them at the same time.”
“I am truly sorry, Alex
. I thought the lass—”
“The lass doesnae matter.”
John nodded and simply walked out.
Alex sat down and pounded his fist on the desk. “An diobhail toirt leis thu!” The devil take you!
The MacKenzie clearly had played him for a fool. The arse hadn’t hesitated when Alex demanded two hundred fifty cattle as Sybella’s dowry. No wonder! The woman was planted under his roof to deliver the seeing stone to the MacKenzie seer. How utterly convenient.
He shook his head in awe at the lengths of the MacKenzie’s machinations. He could imagine the man sitting behind the desk in his study, a smug expression upon his face. The bastard had deceived a MacDonell—or so he thought. But maybe it wasn’t too late. The MacKenzie still didn’t have the stone. Perhaps there was time…
Alex couldn’t calm his thoughts. What the hell was he going to do about the MacLeod? The man had tried to kill Alex’s wife. The MacLeod would just have to wait his turn. Besides, Alex couldn’t think about that now. He needed to solve one problem at a time.
Sybella’s missive to her brother continued to haunt him. What did she mean when she wrote, “Please stop this madness before it’s too late”? Was marriage to Alex so unbearable? She was clearly going to leave him after she delivered the damn stone to her father.
Alex’s heart hardened, and he refused to think of Sybella and her innocent touches. He banished the thoughts of their stolen moments. The woman was nothing more than a MacKenzie wench who had played him for a fool. And to think he cared for the lass, thought of her as one of his own.
He walked briskly to the parapet before he attempted to do something he would surely regret. He wasn’t sure how long he remained there, nor did he care. The silence was a blessing. Only when his head bobbed and jolted him awake did he finally seek his bed. But no sooner did he close his eyes than the adjoining door opened and closed.
Alex watched his wife as she approached his bed. At least he’d had enough sense left to keep the bedside candle lit. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep, not giving Sybella the chance to place a dagger straight through his heart. For a moment, she merely stood there and watched him, no doubt planning his untimely demise. When she reached out to touch him, he whipped out his hand and firmly grabbed her arm.
Sybella gasped.
“What are ye doing?” he asked, his voice hardening ruthlessly.
“Praise the saints, ye frightened me. I wanted to make sure ye and Aunt Iseabail were all right.” When he didn’t respond and his eyes darkened, she gently pulled to free herself from his grasp. “Alex…”
He released her arm and his eyes roamed to her nightrail. He could see her creamy breasts through the thin material. “Seek your bed, Sybella.”
Instead of heeding his command, the lass placed her hands on her hips. “What is the matter with ye, Alexander?”
Alex punched the lumps out of his pillow while she stood there gawking at him. The lass clearly didn’t know how much danger she was in. When she finally walked away, he rolled over onto his side. And there she stood, lifting the blankets and crawling into bed with him.
His eyes widened. “What are ye doing?”
“I am sleeping next to my husband.”
“I am in nay mood for bed sport, lass,” he said dryly.
She turned to face him, placing her hands in a prayer-like position under her cheek. “Tell me what happened. I know ye are distraught over Aunt Iseabail. Did her memory fail again?”
How was he to tell her that it was the complete opposite and that Aunt Iseabail remembered the stone Sybella had been sent to recover? As the sultry temptress lay there with her innocent looks, pretending to be concerned about his aunt, she had no idea how much he wanted to reach over and throttle her. The lass had some bollocks.
She lifted her hand and gently rubbed his cheek. “I see ye are troubled. Share your burden with me. I am your wife.”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
A kiss as tender and light as a summer breeze brushed his lips. His eyes flew open as his wife nestled her body against his. She raised her hand to his cheek and pulled him closer, forcing him to deepen the kiss. What the hell was she doing?
He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her away. She hesitated and then her hand encircled his cock. She began to stroke him, and he unwillingly lost the last thread of self-restraint he had managed to hold on to. If this was the game the lass wanted to play, he would treat her like the MacKenzie wench she was. He would make this one encounter she would never forget.
He tossed her onto her back and lifted her legs to straddle him. Lowering his head, he gave her a brutal, punishing kiss, forcing her lips open with his thrusting tongue. He placed his hand behind her neck and wrung her hair in his fingers, tightening his grip. God, he would make her pay.
Releasing her hair, he skimmed her body over her nightrail and brazenly reached down and inserted his finger between her legs. Damn. The lass was so ready for him. She was so wet. Hot.
Roughly, he tugged her nightrail down past her shoulders until the fabric ripped beneath his hands. He lifted himself up, tearing at the material and exposing her breasts. He fondled one globe, its pink nipple marble hard.
His tongue caressed her sensitive nipples, which had swollen to their fullest, and his hand seared a path down her abdomen and onto her thigh. His tongue swirled its way down her ribs to her stomach while his hands roamed for pleasure points. Her tormented groan was a heady invitation. She lay panting, her chest heaving.
He stood on his knees and ripped her nightrail from her body as she lay naked beneath his gaze. He wanted to intimidate her. Make her ache like he was inside. He consciously watched her expression as he spread her legs open wide. She was fully exposed, and when he saw reality set in her eyes, he buried his face into her womanly heat.
He licked and sucked, torturing her with his every move.
She reached down to touch him, but he wouldn’t have it. He pushed her hands away. Her musky scent drove him wild. He sucked on her sensitive bud, and when she writhed beneath him, he inserted his tongue as she called out in bittersweet agony.
* * *
Dear God. She was so hot and dripped with sweat. The way that Alex touched her drove her wild. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with him this eve, but right now, she didn’t really care. The man’s touch was purely divine.
The pleasure was pure and explosive. And her release came upon her hard by her husband’s expert touch. When he pulled himself to his knees, she reached down and encircled his manhood, but he pushed her hand away. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and he merely stared at her.
Without warning, he flipped her onto her stomach and lifted her bottom in the air. She gasped as he entered her from behind. His hands held her hips in place with thrust after blessed thrust. At first, she was shocked, but then she quickly rose to meet him in a moment of uncontrolled passion.
He continued to take her and she was drawn to a height of passion she had never known before. She couldn’t believe the magnitude of her own desire. She moved her hips in response, and Alex called out as he sought his release. When he leaned over her and his fingers gently squeezed her nipple, she abandoned herself to a whirl of sensations.
Alex flopped down on the bed and Sybella pulled up the blankets, snuggling into his chest. He did not embrace her as he always had and his arm lay draped across his forehead, his eyes closed. When he didn’t speak, she lightly ran her fingers over his chest. Perhaps he was more troubled by Aunt Iseabail than he cared to admit. No matter, she was sure he would speak to her when he was ready.
Sybella swore she had just closed her eyes when she woke up to an empty bed. She stood, spotting her torn nightrail on the floor while memories flooded her from last eve. She couldn’t help but sigh. She shook her head and rubbed her brow, remembering her husband’s keen eyes and inscrutable expression. She wondered what had happened since his visit with Aunt Iseabail. At any rate, Alex was probably busy p
reparing for his travel to Lewis. She briefly wondered if her father would appear this morn and stop her husband from taking the MacLeod’s head.
She walked to her chamber, washed, and quickly dressed. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Rosalia standing there with Lachlann in her arms.
“Sybella, I hate to be a burden, but could ye please watch Lachlann for a bit? Ciaran and Alexander practice their swordplay in the bailey, and Aunt Iseabail wants to take a walk to visit my uncle’s grave. We left ye a tray in the great hall to break your fast.”
Not realizing she had overslept, Sybella extended her arms. “It would be my pleasure.” She took Lachlann and smiled. “We shall have a grand time.”
“Thank ye. I shouldnae be that long and he has already been fed.”
“Donna worry. We will get along just fine.”
Sybella carried Lachlann to the great hall and sat down to break her fast. His little hands pounded on the table and then he started to chew on his fists. She played with him in between bites and was amazed that the boy never failed to put a smile on her face.
She kissed him on the top of the head. “Ye are such a bonny lad.” He looked up at her with his azure eyes and smiled—with his fist still in his mouth.
When she finished her meal, she called his name and he looked up at her. “Why donna we watch the men practice their swordplay? Would ye like that?” She took his cooed response as a yes.
They walked out into the bailey and were greeted with the sounds of banging swords. Alex and Ciaran were surrounded by a group of men, and Sybella made her way over to a bench. She sat down with Lachlann, and when he spotted his father, his tiny arms flailed and his body shook up and down. It was almost as if the little man tried to greet his father.
Ciaran stopped and nodded to Lachlann. “Ye are still too young to pick up a sword, but let your father show ye how ’tis done.”
Alex deflected Ciaran’s blow and turned to face her. When their eyes met, Sybella smiled, but his expression darkened. He raised his broadsword over his head, striking Ciaran’s with a loud scrape.
Sybella became instantly wide awake and flew to her feet.
To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3 Page 19
