Passion (Highland Brides of Skye Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  His breath quickened. “Gwen,” he said in a voice thick with desire.

  She would never forget the deep timber of his voice.

  “So sweet,” he rasped.

  Gwendolyn’s pleasure suddenly ripped through her. She cried out and pressed her face against his shoulder. He increased his speed, each stroke blinding her with its intensity. His arms crushed her impossibly close for three heartbeats as his release took him. Then he relaxed, and she drew a breath as he slowly stroked again, then again and again, before finally collapsing on top of her.

  They lay unmoving a long moment, his powerful heart thumping against her breast. When the rhythm finally slowed, he slid off her. Gwen drew another deep breath.

  He levered up on an elbow and locked gazes with her. “Why will ye no’ marry me?”

  Her heart twisted. The man was nothing if not tenacious. “Please dinnae ask me that.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why. Because ye are a laird, and I am a servant. You are accustomed to the attention, the power. You like the challenges of entertaining some of Scotland’s greatest adversaries. ‘Tis not my place. My dreams are no’ that grand.”

  “What are your dreams, for I would do anything to make them come true.”

  Gwendolyn laughed. “To live a simple life, far away from politics, war and even fine banquets.”

  “What are you running from, Gwen? You speak often of your desire to be alone. But ye will no’ tell me about your family, or your life, for that matter. Please, give me something, anything that would help explain why you wish to leave.”

  Caeleb’s words, his pleading tone, nearly broke her heart. He spoke true. She had revealed nothing of her past. What would he think of the illegitimate daughter of the Scottish warlord, the Black Douglas? Would he be shocked to learn that she had a sister to care for, and that they had spent their lives running and hiding? Though they’d had no ties to their father for six years—since Gwen was twelve—as his daughters, she and her sister were prizes to be had, for many who sought revenge against Douglas would go to great lengths to get their hands on them. That made them a liability…a liability Laird Caeleb MacLeod couldn’t afford.

  Worse, she couldn’t tell him that she was one of the select women who lived at Glenwood Abbey, called The Sisters of The Sinister Order. The abbey had long been abandoned by the monks who once lived there and was now a safe haven for young girls who had lost their homes. Though, safer for some than for others.

  Who could have guessed that Gwen’s talents would be her undoing? Girls with ‘special gifts’ were recruited by Malcolm Donald, captain to the Donald laird. Gwen recalled the day Malcolm recruited her. Too great to ignore was the promise of enough money for her to buy a small piece of land where she and her sister could forget that they were the daughters of Black Douglas. Malcolm swore that by helping him, she would only be helping clan Donald stay safe. The need to stay safe was something Gwen understood.

  But Malcolm had lied. It wasn’t the clan he wanted to safeguard, but himself. Malcolm reared his adopted daughters to do his bidding. Spies, warriors, harlots, each lass enriched Malcolm coffers. He taught Gwen the most despicable trade of all: to be a spy…a traitor. Gwen learned so well, that she shared the MacLeod laird’s bed.

  Nae, she couldn’t tell Caeleb any of these truths. But neither could she keep avoiding the question.

  “My mother died young, and my father didn’t want me. With no family, I lived by my wits.”

  He brushed a finger along her cheek. “Yet here ye are, working as a kitchen maid.”

  “Once this conflict with the Donalds is over, it will be safe again to travel.”

  He smiled gently. “Where will you go? You said you had no other home.”

  “I will go where the wind takes me. There is a place out there for me, Caeleb. I simply need to find it.”

  As far away from Malcolm Donald as possible.

  Gwen spoke of finding a home, but the sorrow in her eyes told Caeleb she didn’t want to leave any more than he wanted her to.

  “Ye have a place, here—with me. I beg you, stay.” He placed a kiss on the smooth flesh of her shoulder, then gazed into her eyes again.

  Though she lay safely in his arms, she seemed a hundred miles away. He didn’t know what pain she had suffered, but it was clear her mind fought a great battle. If only she could confide in him, perhaps, together, they could find a resolution.

  Caeleb thought of the small wooden box in his desk. The dainty gold ring with a circle-cut ruby that lay inside had been his mother’s. Now, he planned to slip that ring on Gwendolyn’s finger.

  He kissed her shoulder again. “I cannae live without ye.”

  “Aye, you can,” she said in a dry voice.

  “Nae, lass,” he said. “No more than ye can live without me.”

  “You are laird,” she said. “You will marry a noblewoman. Maybe the daughter of an earl or an heir to an estate. That is the way of things.”

  “Once, mayhap.” He traced a finger around the areola of a pink nipple that had hardened. “Before I met you.”

  She shivered. “You have obligations.”

  “Obligation be damned,” he murmured. “I will marry you and no other.”

  “You are a rogue,” she said in a breathless voice.

  He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Your rogue.” He cupped her breast. “Fight all you like, I know ye love me.”

  Gwen swatted his arm and turned to face him. “Dinnae be so cocky.”

  He smiled down at her. “No’ cocky, sweet. I’m a man in love.”

  She pushed him onto his back and snuggled close. She traced a finger along his chest. “I was so worried when we received the news ye were attacked.”

  His jaw tensed. “They drove us into the valley. If they had attacked on open ground, even outnumbered, we would have stood a better chance of beating them.”

  “But you did beat them. Otherwise—” she broke off.

  Caeleb hugged her. “Aye, we beat them back. But we lost half our warriors in a battle we weren’t supposed to fight. That isnae a victory, Gwen.”

  A heartbeat of silence passed, then she said, “What will you do?”

  “What I must.”

  Gwen pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Do what you must. I must return to the kitchen. I have been gone too long as it is. They will be wondering where I am.”

  “They can go to the devil.” Caeleb hugged her close. He kissed her, then whispered against her lips, “Do ye know what I want?”

  “What, Laird?”

  “I want you in this bed every night. ‘Tis where you belong.” He trailed kisses down the side of her neck.

  Gwendolyn wiggled in an effort to escape. “I must go,” she said with more urgency. “If I stay any longer, I will never get out of this bed.”

  “Promise ye will come to me tonight.”

  She gave a long-suffering sigh. “If I must.” She wriggled from his grasp. “The laird of this castle has demanded a feast. Ye cannae expect me to go against my laird.” She rolled off the bed and began dressing.

  He watched her. “What shall I do without you?”

  “Rest. You will need to.” Gwen tied her apron, then kissed him on the top of his head and hurried out the door.

  He stared at the closed door. God, he loved that woman.

  Chapter 3

  The following afternoon, Gwendolyn gave instructions for preparation of the evening meal, then slipped away to the loch that butted the southern edge of the castle property. She pulled her cloak close against the unusually cool summer wind and sat on the cliffs overlooking the water. The tears she’d kept at bay the last month hovered too close to the surface.

  “Ye are no’ allowed to cry,” she ordered, but the admonition didn’t stop the twist of her heart at the memory of last night. Caeleb’s gentle wooing was sweeter than honey. How could the man possibly want to spend the rest of his life with her? She was nothing special, and if he had any inkling
of what she really was…

  Gwen released a slow breath. She’d written the letter that warned them of the Donald’s attack. But she’d also been lying to him for two years. She was a traitor. He trusted her. To stay would be to continue the lies. She wouldn’t do that to him. It was time she left.

  One task remained.

  The decision made, she felt no relief, no pain, not even regret. She felt nothing.

  Now, she waited.

  The oranges and purples that painted the evening sky gradually faded with the arrival of dusk. When the first stars winked overhead, Gwendolyn closed her eyes and prayed, I ask but one favor. Let him forgive me.

  At last, when the full moon hung bright in the cloudless sky, Gwen rose and started back down the path between the dense forest and the loch. She’d gone a dozen steps when a twig snapped within the trees. Disgust roiled her gut. Malcolm wasn’t such an oaf as to give away his presence by stepping on a twig. He wanted to scare her. In the past, she’d allowed him to think he had the edge.

  Not today.

  She started forward again at a slow pace. “If ye have something to say, do so now. I must return to Dunvegan.”

  The frogs went silent and she knew he was following along within the tree line. A moment later, a hulking figure stepped out onto the path before her.

  “Ye have learned well,” he said.

  “Well enough to know we shouldn’t meet out in the open.” She started toward the trees.

  He grasped her arm and brought her to a stop. “Keep your nerve. Ye would have known if anyone followed you.” He released her. “Dòmhnall wishes to see you.”

  Laird Dòmhnall? She hadn’t anticipated that. Her heart beat faster. Was her sister safe? Of course, she was safe. Malcolm was lying. Dòmhnall had never been the one holding Arabelle as leverage, and the laird didn’t want to see her. Gwen had finally realized that most, if not all, of Malcolm’s dealings with the Sisters of the Sinister Order were at his own behest, not Dòmhnall’s. She wondered how much Dòmhnall actually knew of the Sisters.

  “Caeleb joined forces with another hundred and fifty men,” he went on.

  Tears pricked. She hadn’t known it was a trap until Malcolm contacted her with a demand for information. By then, Caeleb and his men were long gone.

  “It was almost as if he knew we were coming,” Malcolm said in that soft voice that meant he was baiting her.

  Gwendolyn stared into the eyes of her trainer. He’d molded her to think like a leader, fight like a warrior, and to live every day as her last. She had surpassed even his skill. This moment would tell her by just how much.

  “We can go to Dòmhnall now.” Gwen watched him carefully. “I will gladly explain that when ye asked for the information, Laird MacLeod had already left. I had no knowledge that more men were sent to meet him.”

  Moonlight illuminated the lecherous curve of Malcolm’s mouth. “He will say the same thing I say; you are a woman. Women have ways of learning information. Start using your charms.”

  So, he didn’t want her to see Dòmhnall.

  “We will fare even better next time,” he said.

  Gwen shook her head. “I am done.”

  “Done?” he repeated. “I trained you for this. Ye have a duty to your clan.”

  “My clan? You cannae mean the Donalds? Even a four-year refuge does no’ mean your clan is mine.”

  “Dòmhnall will no’ take this lightly,” he snapped.

  She held his gaze. “I have done everything he asked of me. My task is complete. Release my sister.”

  “You know, ‘tis no’ that simple.”

  Anger rammed through her. She had buried a brother. She would not lose Arabelle. “I will give ye one more piece of information. Then you release my sister,” she said.

  “When ye have information—”

  “I have information now,” she cut in.

  He waited.

  She shoved her hands into her pockets to hide their tremble. “We are in agreement?”

  “Depends on the information,” he replied.

  “You can finish off another large number of MacLeods,” she said.

  He hesitated, then nodded.

  “In five days, the MacLeods plan to attack Castle Borthal.”

  He frowned. “That is a three-day ride to the south.” His eyes narrowed. “Why did ye no’ tell me this before?”

  “Caeleb has grounded the birds. I had no way of contacting ye. I came here tonight in hopes you would contact me. Ye can be there when they arrive and kill them all.”

  He nodded. “Well done.”

  She hardened her stare. “I have done my part. Produce my sister by tomorrow or I will retrieve her myself.”

  He grinned. “There is the spirited lass I know.”

  “Tomorrow, Malcolm. Maggie’s inn. If ye dinnae bring Arabelle, your head will be the first I put on a spike.”

  His eyes jerked onto something behind her, then he lunged into the woods.

  Her heart pounded. Sweet God in heaven. Gwen whirled to face the intruder.

  Tommen.

  Had he heard their conversation? She remained rooted to the spot.

  Tommen stared, his stunned expression easily visible in the moonlight. Then anger tightened his features. “What have ye done?” He started toward her.

  Gwen retreated. He halted.

  “ ‘Tis no’ what you think,” she said.

  “Nae? You mean to tell me, you were not talking to our enemy? Ye will return with me to Dunvegan to face Caeleb.”

  Her heart thundered. What could she say? I’m sorry, I’m a spy, but I lied to them. I didn’t betray you—not really. Even she wouldn’t believe that. Tommen took a step forward. She retreated. She needed to run, but he was a giant of a man. His long legs would outpace her in seconds.

  “Forgive me, Tommen.”

  His mouth contorted with anger. “Forgive ye—”

  Gwen took a step toward him, dropped to a squat and yanked his ankle with her booted foot. He crashed into the brush. With a curse, he started to shove to his feet. She scooped up dirt and threw it at his face. He bellowed and clawed at his eyes.

  Gwendolyn spun and raced up the hill. As she neared the cliffs, she unfastened her cloak pin and allowed the cloak to fall to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she leapt off the cliff.

  Chapter 4

  The door to Caeleb’s library opened and he looked up from the rolls that lay open on his desk. Tommen closed the door behind him and faced Caeleb. The man’s eyelids were puffy and his bloodshot eyes, thin slits that struggled to stay open.

  “Bloody hell, Tommen, what happened?” Caeleb asked. “Did a stray cat try to tear out your eyes?”

  Tommen halted in front of his desk. “I found our traitor.”

  Caeleb started. “What? The friend who warned us is a traitor? How do ye know?”

  Tommen shook his head impatiently. “I dinnae know who warned us of the Donald attack, but I know that Gwendolyn has betrayed us.”

  “Gwendolyn?” Caeleb stared in confusion.

  “I saw her with Malcolm Donald.”

  “Dòmhnall’s captain?” Caeleb blurted, then before Tommen could reply, “You must be mistaken. Gwen wouldnae betray us.” She wouldn’t betray me.

  “I am no’ mistaken, laird. I caught them together. Malcolm ran like the cur he is. Gwendolyn jumped off the cliffs to escape me.”

  Caeleb shoved to his feet and rounded the desk in an instant. He seized Tommen’s collar. “You chased her off the cliffs?”

  Tommen met his gaze squarely. “Nae, laird. I told her she had to return here to face you. She attacked me, then ran away.”

  “Attacked ye?” he growled. “She’s a mite.”

  “A mite who tripped me, then threw dirt in my eyes and ran.”

  Caeleb’s heart pounded. He felt as if he’d been punched in the belly. Caeleb shoved Tommen away.

  “Is she dead?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  It took every ounce of wi
ll Caeleb had to heed Tommen’s counsel and remain at Dunvegan while Tommen led a small group of trusted men in the hunt for Gwendolyn. Until Caeleb discovered what her association with Malcom was, he had to be careful. If the clan learned she’d met with Malcolm Donald, it would mean the dungeons for her.

  Fear pooled in his gut. Gwen was out there somewhere, alone.

  Guilt gnawed. He’d trusted her. What part had she played in the Donald attack? Was she the friend who had left the warning? If so, why hadn’t she come to him?

  Caeleb yanked open the desk drawer and pulled out the small box that held his mother’s ring. He opened the box. Had Gwen lied when she said she cared for him? He would have known if she was lying. Wouldn’t he? He tilted the ring and read the band’s inscription. Love conquers all. Caeleb threw the ring across the room. The band hit the stone wall with a tiny clink and fell to the floor.

  The day wore on. Caeleb fulfilled his duties by rote, then retired early, though not to sleep. He sat in a library chair near the window, until a knock rattled the door.

  “Enter,” he called.

  Manas, captain of the night watchmen, entered. He crossed to Caeleb and stopped in front of him. “No sign of her, Laird. I searched her quarters as ye requested but found nothing of support or evidence against her. All I found was a necklace.”

  “A necklace?”

  Manas extended a fisted hand and opened it.

  On his palm, lay a thin gold chain attached to a circular pendant no larger than a coin. Three etched stars filled the center of the metal pendant. Caeleb took the pendant and chain. The symbol looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it.

  Caeleb gave a curt nod. “Thank ye.”

  When the door clicked shut behind Manas, Caeleb continued to examine the necklace. The symbol wasn’t a Clan Donald symbol. Was Gwen a Donald? She’d called herself a MacKinnon.