by Mary Wine
She did not mind cleaning. Gerty had shown her the way of it when she was too young to recall. It took every pair of hands to make life good. The women saw to the home while the men went to the fields. Pausing for a moment, Shannon looked out one of the large windows in Torin’s chamber. The iron hinges that held the shutters in place needed cleaning and oiling to keep them from rusting. She’d done every window in the tower before forcing herself to reenter his private chambers.
She practically felt the man in the room with her. If that was sinister or of the devil, so be it. Alone with her thoughts, she could not lie to herself. The chamber was large, rather fitting for its master. Her attention strayed to the bed. It was a huge one, set with bedding that must have cost a fortune for how much cloth was needed.
Again, it suited Torin. He was an honorable laird and deserved the best. There were plump pillows and a mattress filled with goose down. To lie on it must be delightful, she thought. Just changing the sheets had been a feast for her senses. She pressed her fingers against the soft surface, just for the thrill of testing it.
Her cheeks heated more. She’d had to almost lie on the bed to reach the heavy coverlet in the center and pull it over the sides. The creamy, smooth sheets had beckoned to her with a wicked suggestion of what it might feel like to lie completely nude amid them. That thought was completed by the idea of having Torin, just as she’d seen him, in the bed with her.
If Torin were atop her, his larger body would press her down into that softness…
Wicked, but so fascinating, her mind allowed the thought to surface again and again. As the spring warmed the air, her passionate ideas heated her cheeks.
So working alone suited her full well. She took each task Baeth gave her and set off to complete it to the head of house’s satisfaction. The other McLeren women checked up on her, peeking in to see if she was working or daydreaming. When she caught them spying on her, they walked toward her as bold as might be and ran their fingers across whatever she had been cleaning. But they became less amused by the game as the days passed.
“I didna bring ye here to be a maid.”
Shannon jumped and fell against the window ledge she was working in. Her upper body went right through the open space in the wall, and her feet slipped on the smooth floor. For a moment all she saw was the ground, her eyes widening at how far away it was and how impossible it felt to stop herself from tumbling toward it.
A solid hand gripped her back; fingers dug into her arisaid and yanked her away from the window. She stumbled back inside the chamber and right across the floor as she heard the sound of her dress ripping.
But it was the sound of Torin’s voice that took precedence in her mind. She landed against his bed; her hands flung out behind her to absorb some of the impact, but her legs still knocked against the frame, with painful consequences.
“Sweet Christ. Ye have no business leaning out of windows if ye’re so taken to fright.”
Torin McLeren was angry. His face was a mask of fury while he stood in front of the open window with his arms crossed over his chest. The pose made him look larger and more undefeatable than he normally appeared.
“Ye should nae have crept in here like an assassin.”
He snarled, but she raised her chin, the dark sound rubbing against her pride. She should have been frightened of the huge man, but she wasn’t. There wasn’t a single hint of any reserve inside her; in fact, she was eager to tell him he was wrong.
“This is my private chamber.” His voice was low and sharply edged. “I do nae need anyone telling me how to enter it.”
“Except that yer head of house sends her maids here to see to the keeping of it, so ye should nae be so astonished to find someone working here.”
He grunted at her words but pressed his lips together in a firm line instead of arguing. He wanted to. She could see that shimmering in his eyes, but his gaze lingered on her face for a long moment, and something else flickered in his eyes. For just a fleeting moment it looked like he was happy to see her. It did not last long, because his attention shifted behind her, to the bed she was still leaning against.
His bed…
Shannon straightened, drawing her hands away from the bed. Torin watched her, and it was impossible not to stare back at the man. She shouldn’t be happy to see him again, but that didn’t stop the rise of emotion inside her.
“Why are ye acting as a maid? I never ordered you to such a position.”
He sounded perplexed, and that drew a small grin to her lips. She did enjoy knowing that he found her difficult to understand.
“Why do ye assume that being a McBoyd means I am lazy?”
“Ye’re McBoyd’s daughter, no’ just a McBoyd.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, cutting off his ability to look into her eyes. Her father’s disdain for her suddenly felt shameful. As the laird’s daughter, no one would think she was accustomed to serving anyone except her immediate male relatives. That was why the McLeren women had enjoyed watching her clear the table so much. They thought her shamed and belittled by their demands.
“That has nothing to do with anything. I work in trade for what I eat.” She headed for the door, intent on escaping. But she had to stop when he moved into her path, blocking the door frame with his large body. Sensation rippled along her arms and beneath her clothing to tease her skin all the way across her chest and belly. Memory rose thick and hot with exactly what it felt like to be held against him.
“You owe nothing, since it was my decision to bring you here, Shannon. It is not my intention to have you humiliated.”
His words were coated in fairness and his tone kind. Her pride didn’t care for it, because it was too close to pity.
“Well, it was my choice not to sit about waiting for the earl to decide what to do with me.”
His eyebrows lowered, his expression becoming brooding. “I’ll no’ see harm done to ye, Shannon.”
Something in his tone disturbed her; a hint of kindness that she only heard after someone was dead. She looked at Torin and saw the mud dried on his boots. His hair lacked the clean look that she’d come to expect from him too. Clearly the man was fresh from the road.
“Well, I do nae desire yer protection. Whatever ye just came from, I’ll face it and be happy to be finished with this mess.”
He unfolded his arms. “Nay, ye will not face it. There is nothing out there but death for the kin of those who enacted this plot against the king.”
She shivered. There was no stopping the response. It raced down her spine, shaking her with icy dread.
“Go on, then. Tell me what ye were off seeing. Do nae think ye are softening the blow by hesitating. I can stand steady for whatever news ye have.”
Admiration flickered in his eyes. She had not wanted to impress him, but she liked it just the same. She lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye.
“Atholl will be executed for murdering the king. Young James will be crowned, with the Douglas standing behind him. I expect Archibald Douglas to be named lieutenant general.”
Which meant the Earl of Douglas was king in all but name. His word would be law, and it would be in the man’s best interest to hunt down all the supporters of the plot. That was the only way to secure his position.
“Well then, it appears that justice has been done.” But what made her words sound hollow was the certain knowledge that revenge had yet to begin. She could see it in his eyes.
“It is far from finished, Shannon.”
His voice was grave and dark with the promise of retribution for what her father had done.
Footsteps came up the stairs, and she felt each one like a dagger puncturing her skin. She looked beyond Torin toward the doorway to see who was coming. Her belly tightened with fear as she contemplated seeing her executioner.
A warm hand cupped her chin instead. Torin raised her
face so that their eyes met again. She’d not even noticed the man close the space between them, and now she was torn between the excitement he bred inside her and the terror those footfalls instilled. There was no possibility of hiding her fears; the best she might do was bite into her lower lip to keep herself silent.
Torin gently pulled her lip free with his thumb. The faint scent of leather and horse clung to his skin. She inhaled it deeply, seeking out the scent of him beneath those things.
“Easy, lass. I’ll keep my word to protect ye.”
“But how—” She clamped her mouth shut, despising how pathetic she sounded. With a shake of her head, she broke his grasp on her chin. “I’ll weather it quite well. No matter what comes my way.”
The footsteps had stopped, and she drew in a deep breath before leaning over to see what was waiting for her. Her belly was queasy, but she forced herself to look. Connor Lindsey peered back at her with blue eyes that were full of curiosity.
“Well now, should I leave the pair of ye in peace?” His lips rose into a mocking grin that annoyed her.
“Nay.” She uttered a single word before Torin pressed his thumb over her lips in warning.
“Leave us, Connor.”
“There’s the thanks I get for riding with ye. Thrown over in favor of a pretty lass.”
Shannon shot a glare at Torin and then wished that she had not. The man was staring at her with eyes that glittered. His hand was curled around her face, his grip light, but she knew the strength tempered by his control.
She heard Connor leaving and hissed over the thumb pressing down on her lips.
“I told ye that I didna want yer protection.”
“And I told ye that I will see to ye. Nothing ye say will change the fact that I am responsible for you being here, and that means that I will be having a say in what is done. When it comes to others, my commands will be heeded.”
Each word was delivered in a solid tone that didn’t leave room for argument. Shannon shook her head, dislodging his thumb.
“Very well, but since ye sent yer friend away, I’ll speak my mind. Get yer hands off me.”
“No.”
The hand holding the side of her face slid back to cup her head as he moved forward to capture her mouth with his. The kiss was demanding. He pressed her mouth open with his, seeking out her tongue with his own. It was bold, and she resisted, trying to step away.
Torin didn’t grant her any reprieve. He followed her, one strong arm encircling her body to bind her against him. She inhaled his scent now, that male scent that pleased her senses far too much. Passion did not build slowly this time. It erupted like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky open. Need rose up from her belly, hot and demanding. Her tongue met his, slipping and teasing, while she moved toward him, pressing her body against his.
His kiss softened as she responded. He teased her lips with his own, licking along her lower lip before leaving her mouth to trail soft kisses across her cheek. She shivered once again, astonished by how sensitive the skin covering her cheek was. Never had she suspected that a man’s kiss might feel so hot or that she would shudder with delight. He found her neck and pressed more kisses along its delicate surface. Her hands slid up and over his chest, discovering the ridges of muscles that she’d seen in the moonlight.
“You are sweet, Shannon, too damned sweet, and I have spent too many nights thinking about ye since we parted.”
She was suddenly free, with the path to the door clear. Torin stepped back and reached for the tie holding his claymore at his right shoulder. His fingers yanked on the leather ties with sharp motions, betraying just how agitated he was. She could see his emotions flaring in his eyes. A muscle twitched along the side of his jaw as he fought the urge to pull her back against him.
“Leave me, before I tumble ye while I stink like a horse.”
Her pride reared its head in the face of his arrogance. But he yanked the tie in his hand clear in two with one hard motion of his hand, the leather snapping with a sharp sound. Warning flashed from his eyes, and she felt it deep in her belly. It was not something that her pride felt; it was something that the woman inside her recognized. A sure understanding that he’d do exactly what he promised and that she would not resist for long. The reason was simple—she wanted him. Wanted to be tumbled, and she didn’t much care if he did smell like a horse.
She turned but froze in the door frame when he spoke again.
“Baeth seems to think ye wish to celebrate May morn.”
Shannon peeked back at him over her shoulder. A roguish grin decorated his lips now, the claymore held securely in one of his large hands. She couldn’t keep her gaze from dropping to that hand.
She had enjoyed what his grip felt like on the back of her head when he was kissing her.
A husky chuckle broke through her musings. Torin set the weapon down on a table and walked toward her. She had to force her feet to remain in place.
He reached up and ran a finger along her face again. Sensation rippled across her skin and down her neck in response.
“If joining the May revelers is what ye want, you have my permission to leave the castle.”
“You trust me to return?” Part of her wanted him to. She suddenly realized how much she missed being trusted. That was a part of freedom that she hadn’t valued until it was missing.
“I trust in the fact that if ye go dancing around the maypole with yer hair flowing behind ye, I’ll be the first man who tries to take ye into the woods for more celebrating.” His hand reached her hair, and he tugged gently on a few curls that had escaped her braid. Little ripples of anticipation washed down her body, touching off more sparks. “The only man.”
“I said nothing about going into the woods.”
His lips curved higher with arrogance. “Yer kiss sure enough did, lass.”
His smug tone drew a gasp from her. She flattened her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. It was a mistake, for he instantly captured her hand, holding it prisoner in his larger one. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat steady and strong. It was hypnotic, drawing her toward him.
She tugged on her hand but might as well have saved her strength.
“Release me. I can assure ye that I’m no’ interested in celebrating May morn with you.”
His thumb rubbed over the tender skin of her inner wrist. He pushed right past the cuff of her underrobe to find the spot where her pulse was throbbing frantically. Victory lit his eyes, his lips thinning into an expression that sent a twist of excitement through her belly, because there on his face, she could see that he knew what turmoil she felt. He understood because it was something they shared. Sensation rippled across her skin, and her nipples contracted beneath her gowns.
“Yer heart rate says otherwise, and be very sure that I will nae allow another man near ye.” He lifted her wrist up and placed a hot kiss against it. She gasped, unable to hold the sound inside her. Indeed, it felt impossible to contain all the sensation that his touch solicited. Her clothing felt as if it would smother her.
“That’s a promise, sweet Shannon.”
He offered her a wolfish grin before releasing her. He turned so that she could see his bed behind him. One dark eyebrow rose in mocking question.
She hissed at him and his presumption. Excitement or not, she would be the master of her choices.
“You are a brute.”
“Is that so?” His face darkened. “Yer face was nae marked from my hand, lass, when I found ye. It seems to me that yer life is better for the fact that I brought ye north.”
“I am not afeard of my sire.” She stood straight and tall before Torin and tossed her head in the face of his arrogance. “Ye’re a prideful fool to assume that I want to go out on May morn because I intend to take a lover.”
“Take me as yer lover, ye mean.”
One of
his dark eyebrows rose, along with a smirk appearing on his lips. Saying the word “lover” out loud was being interpreted by the man as surrender. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. Of course, she had to expect such from a Highlander, especially the one who had stolen her.
“I’ve barely felt the sun on my face this last month, by your order. That man of yers trails me to church and back, making sure I don’t linger outside. Of course I want to go outside these walls, and May Day celebrating has nothing to do with it. What I want is to be free of this confinement. Go chase yer own women through the woods if it’s a tumble ye crave. I want some fresh air, ye daft man.”
Grabbing a handful of her skirts, she turned her back on him but had to suffer the sound of his deep chuckling while she made her way down the stairs.
Connor Lindsey was leaning against the wall when she gained the bottom floor. Shannon didn’t give the man time to torment her with a knowing look. She skirted past him quickly, refusing to lock stares with him. He’d no doubt take the same arrogant attitude that Torin had: that women found men irresistible.
She muttered beneath her breath. All right! Connor Lindsey was assuming that she found Torin McLeren irresistible.
Which wasn’t true; she simply needed to focus more on ignoring the man.
And his kisses.
Even if she were battling the urge to do exactly as Torin said, she had no intention of making it known. With a huff, she headed toward the kitchens and some sort of work that would take her mind off her feelings. Maybe there was laundry yet to do. Plunging her hands into hot water would keep her from thinking about how much she enjoyed the man’s kisses.
But the longing gnawing at her insides persisted. It tormented her for the rest of the day, growing stronger as the sun sank. Her chamber felt colder and lonelier than before. The dress she’d enjoyed sewing in the evenings didn’t draw her interest tonight. Instead her stitches were slow, and she had to pick out as many as she put in, because they were sloppy.
She finally surrendered and placed the project back on the small table. Her mind was alert, and sleep didn’t call to her in the least. With a frustrated sound, she turned to stare at the closed shutters.
