The Beauty of the Mist

by May McGoldrick

  “So my aunt made you give her your word.”

  He nodded as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Aye, lass. I gave her my word.”

  “And you honor your word.”

  John pulled back and gazed into her eyes, deep green and magical and, seemingly, lit from within. His words were barely more than a growl. “Until the end of time.”

  Maria now understood why Isabel had not objected to the two of them leaving unattended. Her fingers stroked his hair. She stretched up and placed a kiss on his brow, trying hard to swallow the disappointment she felt at having to end their play. But the Scot was an honorable man and that she must respect. “So does that mean you’re ready to return me to the cabin?”

  The Highlander paused and turned his gaze out to sea before answering. Then, abruptly, he sat down on the cask beside then and maneuvered Maria between his legs. His hands held her there firmly. Their eyes were now at the same level.

  “Took me a lifetime to get you away,” he rumbled, bringing her closer and brushing his lips across the skin beneath her ear. “It might just take me a lifetime to get you back there.”

  “But you just said...” She tilted her head to give his lips better access.

  “I just needed to let you know that there are limits.”

  “Limits?” she repeated vaguely as his lips suckled her ear.

  She turned slightly in his arms as his hand found its way inside her cloak. His fingers cupped the roundness of one breast, and her breath caught as he stroked the nipple through the soft wool of her dress.

  She edged closer into the angle of his muscular legs, pushing against the cloth of the kilt until she felt his arousal press intimately against her thigh. She pressed her lips into his hair as he pulled at the laces that held the low neckline of her gown together.

  “Tell me more about these limits,” she whispered. “How far...”

  Her last words came with a sharp intake of breath as John’s fingers pulled open the dress, exposing one of her breasts. She sank against him as his hand touched her bare skin.

  A shudder rushed through her, searing her with an excitement unmatched by any sensation she’d ever experienced before. As if from afar, she watched with wonder as he parted the front of her cloak and lowered his mouth to her breast. Her body flared, and she rose to his lips, her hands gripping his hair. A liquid heat poured through her, igniting a fire deep within. A fire soared and danced at the very core of her womanhood, and Maria had no knowledge of how to contain such magic. And she had no thought of trying.

  John tasted and teased her breast. Moving deliberately from one to the other, he forced himself to go slowly, to lose himself only to a degree in her sweet taste and her abundance. But Maria wouldn’t stand still. Her hands were everywhere, her firm body now pressing intimately against his loins, her thigh rubbing provocatively against his throbbing manhood. But he refused to let his desire take control. He couldn’t have her. He wouldn’t have her. Not on board his ship. But that didn’t mean they were finished.

  Maria welcomed his hand as it roughly gathered her around the waist and pulled her even closer into his embrace. His mouth never paused as he continued to suckle her flesh, but she gasped in shock as his other hand pulled up the front of her skirts and reached in beneath them. She closed her eyes, her arms clasping him tightly to her chest as his fingers pulled at her hose. Royalty be damned, she swore wildly, praying his fingers would find their mark. Her body screamed for his touch.

  It was an appealing sound. Her undergarments tore away in his hand, and Maria almost cried aloud as she felt the touch of his hands.

  As his fingers delved into her moist opening and began their stroking play, the Highlander tried desperately to close his ears to the sound of her moans. There were limits. That’s what he’d told her. But those limits had been only set for him. That had been all he’d agreed to. Giving her pleasure, bringing her fulfillment, had not been part of their agreement. He could give–he would give–but not take.

  This was not as Maria had ever guessed it could be. She bit hard on her lower lip as she felt his fingers pushed deeper inside. Unaware of anything now but the sensations that were vibrating though her body as he stroked her sensitive flesh, she rocked against his hand, opening more and more to his touch, and to the rhythm that was steadily obliterating all conscious thought. And deep within her, a desire was growing for something she could not even name.

  His mouth was rough as it covered her lips. He muffled her cries as his fingers continued to slide within her. She was so close, now. So close to letting go. Her breaths were coming in short gasps, her moans were quick and wild. Like a bird impatient to take flight, her slender body arched in his arms. And then she soared.

  Torrents of liquid light and color–scarlet reds and brilliant yellows–burst in fiery waves before Maria’s eyes, melting in a lava flow of passion and ecstasy. Wave upon wave thrilled her to her very core, illuminating a world that had been shuttered and gray, stripping away every vestige of restraint, every trace of control. Maria was free, truly free, and she ascended unencumbered, gliding on the currents, her life unfettered, her horizons limitless.

  Wrapped in his arms, Maria continued to shudder with rapture. Moments passed, but she was unable to fix upon such trivial things as time or space. But then, eventually, conscious thought gradually returned to her. As the blazing power of the moment gave way to a sublime and amber glow, a melancholy thought occurred to her. Maria realized that never once in her marriage had she felt such bliss. Never once had she even thought it possible to feel such ecstasy. And then Maria smiled and the thought was gone.

  As he slowly lifted his mouth from the swollen peak of her nipple, Maria continued her descent to earth. John’s hands caressed her back, and his lips rested in the sweet, clean softness of her hair. But his brain was on fire, and his heart slammed mercilessly in his chest. His loins were screaming for release, but he tried to ignore the animal instincts that were threatening to take him were he’d vowed he wouldn’t go. And, for a moment at least, the Highlander was certain he would prevail. But then, pulling one arm free, Maria lowered her hand to his thigh. Slipping her hand beneath his kilt, she wrapped her fingers around his erect shaft.

  Maria gasped as John brushed her from his lap as if she were no more than a feather. A whirlwind of action, the giant drew his dagger and slashed through the ropes that held the casks. Then, in a single motion he lifted the barrel high over his head, dumping the cold water over the top of his head. Astounded, she watched as he reached for a second cask.

  “Old Highland custom,” he said simply, emptying the second barrel.

  Maria peered through the dark at his face, dripping with water. His hair was plastered to his head; his shirt was soaked, as well, and clung to his heaving chest. But the protrusion beneath his kilt was enough to make her heartbeat race all the more.

  “It’s not working,” she said, stifling a giggle and shaking her head. “The custom, I mean!”

  “More cold water, lass.” John looked about him. “I need more water.”

  “Perhaps I can help...while you’re looking.” There was undeniable pleasure in watching him struggle. Moving closely to his side, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her body pressing tightly against his wet torso. “This is only the month of March, remember. The sea air is cold. So while you are looking, perhaps I could keep you warm.”

  “Maria,” he threatened as she pressed her lips to his neck. Resolutely, John placed his hands on her shoulders, but when it came right to it, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away. Instead, his hands gathered her in. Biting her earlobe, his voice was a low growl. “You are playing with fire, woman. But in spite of what I’m feeling at this moment, I will do the honorable thing.”

  “Aye,” she sighed. “I’m certain that you will.”

  She raised herself on her toes and kissed him.

  John gazed deep into the smoldering depths of her eyes. Drawing her lips to his, he kissed her ba
ck with a passion that threatened to ignite once again the molten waves that lay at her very core. Angling his mouth over hers, he sought out the deepest recesses of her soft sweetness, his tongue thrusting and tasting until he felt all tension go out of her body. His own body could not take much more. He had to stop. Releasing her, he watched as she pulled away a bit, breathless and unsteady on her feet.

  “It’s time to go.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s time I took you back to your cabin.”

  Chapter 12

  The tall, blonde woman stood ramrod straight by the railing amidships, her eyes boring into the twosome standing so close together on the high deck far to the stern. To a casual observer’s glance, Caroline Maule was merely gazing backward at the clouds of white sails billowing over the two stern decks rising above her. But the truth was that if her eyes could unleash arrows, then Death would command the Great Michael.

  “You left the cabin without this, lass.” The booming voice of her husband approaching her from behind brought a sneer to the woman’s face. But before turning she was quick to plaster a smile on in its place. “You’re a hardy woman, to be sure, but this is only the month of March. We’ve a fine stiff breeze this sunny morning, and I can’t allow you catch a chill now, can I?”

  The man’s burly hands wrapped the leather traveling cloak around his wife’s rigid frame, and he looked past her at the ship’s commander, standing on the top stern deck with his arm around the shoulder of the pretty young thing that they’d picked out of the sea. Smiling broadly, Sir Thomas pulled Caroline tightly to his side and looked into her face. The wind was cold, but it was a fine, clear morning indeed.

  “We’ll make Antwerp in no time with a good breeze like this, my dear.” Sir Thomas turned and gazed forward beyond the high forecastle deck toward their destination. There was no land in sight. Flanking them on both sides, he could see the warships that made up their expedition. The ships were rising and falling only slightly as they plowed through the wind-whipped white caps. The aging knight took Caroline’s hand as he leaned against the railing. “I still say, old warriors like me belong on a strong horse, a lance in one hand and a shield in the other.”

  “Old warriors, as you say, are renowned for such sentiments.” Caroline’s voice was cold and passionless, as she looked out at a pair of gulls hanging over the blue-green sea.“Eh? What was that?” Sir Thomas’s gaze narrowed.

  “Nothing. I’m not feeling quite myself this morning.”

  “Hmmph,” he grumbled, unappeased. “Well, if you’re feeling ill this morning, lass, then perhaps rushing out as early as you did was a wee bit ill-advised. Why, you left our warm bed before the sun was high enough to wake a curate’s housekeeper.”

  “I don’t know how anyone could have slept through all the caterwauling these sailors were making this morning.” The ship’s crew had leapt into action at first light, unfurling the sails and getting the Great Michael underway.

  “I thought it comforting lying abed, listening to the sound of competent men plying their trade.”

  Caroline fought to keep herself from responding to that. Turning her eyes away from him, she glanced involuntarily at John Macpherson and the Spanish wench. A wave of revulsion swept through her at the sight of the protective and affectionate grip that the Highlander had on her arm.

  “I felt ill,” she complained. “I still do. I’ve already lost everything I ate yesterday. I’m just not used to traveling at this speed.”

  “Aye, you’re a lass that enjoys a good hard ride, yourself.” Sir Thomas smiled at his own joke, but looked away when he saw Caroline’s chilly gaze upon him. “Ah, Caroline, it won’t be so long now. We’re almost there. Two days, three at the most. And then we’ll be enjoying the comforts of one of the finest palaces in Europe. They say the Emperor Charles has fifty servants to attend each of his guests. And until we arrive, I’ll stay right by your side, holding your hand...or your head if need be. I’ll do whatever you need done, just to make your journey more pleasant.”

  To most women, the elder man’s tender words would have brought comfort, but Caroline hated hearing them. She hated him. She hated the whole lot of them. Her husband, the daughter, and the group of useless nobles they traveled with. She had tried to spread the seed of suspicion among them, ignite some feeling against the two tight-lipped Spaniard women, but not one among them had shown even a glimmer of interest. Dolts, every one of them.

  As her husband’s hands continued their attempt to comfort her, roaming and kneading her back affectionately, Caroline tried to hold back any sign of her disgust. John’s arms were the ones she wanted around her. His words of endearment were the one’s she wanted to hear. Again, she lifted her eyes and cast a disdainful look at the Highlander’s attentiveness to the woman standing so close beside him.

  “I wonder what the Queen of Hungary would say if she were to find out that the cabin set aside for her royal use had been so readily given out to some straggling sea...” Wenches, that’s what Caroline wanted to say, but she caught herself short. She was not stupid; she would not openly display her hostility in front of the old man. No, it was much better to go on and have him think that the sea travel was not to her liking.

  “I can’t see Queen Mary minding much,” Sir Thomas answered. “Of course, you never can tell about royalty. But the lass hasn’t married King Jamie yet; we’ve still some details to work out. But I don’t think Sir John has any intention of bunking her in with the two women occupying the cabin, now.”

  “A fortune was spent on this ship to make it perfect for a queen,” Caroline snapped, unable to hold back her anger any longer. “Now if you think the sister to Emperor Charles does not find dishonor in such a slight, then you’re a fool, and I am certain the Earl of Angus will see it differently.”

  “My dear, you may be feeling a wee bit ill, but I’ll ask you to keep a civil tongue in your head. And I’ll tell you this, if you think John Macpherson would do differently just for fear of Angus’s wrath, I’m telling you you’re wrong. He is one who will do as he pleases, regardless of what Angus–or anyone else–might think. He’s the master of this ship, and no one here is about to challenge his decisions.” Sir Thomas softened his expression and drew his wife gently to his side. Frankly, he was delighted that the Macpherson was showing such interest in the Spanish lass. “You wouldn’t truly have expected Sir John to throw them back to the fish, now, would you?”

  “Pulling them from the sea is long way from treating them like royalty,” she sulked.

  “Come now, lass? What else was he to do? Let them fend for themselves with the sailors?” Sir Thomas clucked and shook his head. “They needed proper attention.”

  “There are three other ships with us.” Caroline huffed. “Considering the importance of this mission, he should have done differently. And, say what you will, there will be the devil to pay once Angus finds out about this.”

  Sir Thomas chuckled as he pulled her closer. “Ah, sweet, you just don’t understand the ways of men. Angus couldn’t care less what goes on before we reach Antwerp. And considering the lass’s obvious charms, he’d be the last one to begrudge John Macpherson a bit of dalliance. Surely, I’d not be the one to do it.”

  Caroline’s temper boiled dangerously to the surface, but her voice was like cold steel. “Being a member of Douglas clan yourself, you have a responsibility here. It is disheartening to see how frivolously you take such a serious matter.”

  Sir Thomas tried to sober his expression. He didn’t want to hurt his young wife’s feelings. “My dear, I’ve just said that Sir John doesn’t give a tinker’s damn for what others think. It’s true I’ve known him only a short time, but the man is...”

  “You forget that I know him well.” Caroline shrugged off her husband’s embrace and turned to face him. “In fact, you’ve forgotten that I know him very well.” She smiled slightly as the older man’s face darkened. “You seem to have forgotten a lot of things. But again at your age that’s only to be expected.�
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  “Caroline!” the man’s cry was fierce and threatening, and carried in it the sound of a wounded bull.

  “Aye,” she said coldly, using the word as a weapon, driving it deep into his chest.

  Stunned, Sir Thomas stared at the stranger who stood before him.

  “That is quite enough,” he growled, forcing down the feelings of impotence that were washing over him. “You will go below. I think you would do best to stay to our cabin.”

  The blood pounding in his temples, Sir Thomas watched his wife turn slowly and walk away from him. The cold wind that he felt in his bones seemed to touch only him. Caroline Maule glided away, her cloak, her hair, her expression impassive, unperturbed, untouched.

  Maria tried unsuccessfully to tuck her hair inside the hood of her cloak one more time, but the wind whistling across the high stern deck once again thwarted her efforts. Determined, she gathered the loose strands of her hair in her hand and fiercely pulled the silky black rope to one side. Frustrated, she glanced up, only to see the ship’s commander smiling down at her. Even his eyes, blue and sparkling, smiled.

  “I must look like some sea serpent tangled up in the weeds.”

  “Nay, lass. Though I might say you look like a beautiful princess who has been a bit rumpled by that sea serpent.”

  “Rumpled?” Maria asked in dismay, trying vigorously to straighten her appearance.

  “Aye, by that sea serpent.” John nodded before reaching over to assist in tucking in her hair. He had been looking for an excuse to touch her. The need to feel her hair, to place his lips on her soft skin had kept him up most of the night.

  “Sea serpent?”

  “When I was a wee lad, my father told us tales of sea serpents and princesses,” he answered, taking his time in smoothing Maria’s ebony hair. “When we’d play act the stories, I always got to be the creature. Rumpling the princess has always been my favorite part.”