by Connie Mason
“Ye bloody-minded man,” she muttered.
She looked into the bailey at the cobbles far below. Her belly clenched at the sheer drop. Fiona MacLaren had willingly taken just such a long fall, never knowing what her action would set in motion.
What misery drove her to that awful choice? Elspeth wondered if Fiona repented that last step as she fell to her death. Did she cry out for mercy as the ground rose to meet her? Or did she fly into eternity with her lips closed and her eyes wide open?
Elspeth’s heart pounded. She wouldn’t make the same choice. She may have behaved stupidly with Robin MacLaren, but she’d not compound the pain for her parents by adding to their grief. She stepped back from the window and closed the wooden shutters tight, blocking out the night.
Maybe Fiona thought taking her own life was the only way to prove Lachlan Drummond had raped her. Or maybe she couldn’t bear to live with the memories of what had happened to her. Or had she gone mad and was incapable of choice?
There was no way to know what had buzzed in her brain at the last. Perhaps that was why Rob was so obsessed with avenging her. He didn’t know why. Could never know why.
And killing Drummond seemed the only way to still his wife’s ghost.
Her head ached. She wondered if that meant she was about to be visited by her Gift or if she was just tired of thinking so hard.
She padded to the big bed, drew back the coverlet, and climbed in. The linens were icy, and there was no one to place heated stones at her feet. She might ask for whatever she pleased, Rob had said, but not if she was no better than a prisoner.
She curled into a tight ball and covered her head, trying to warm the space with her own breath. Between breaths, she heard a soft scraping sound, like stone moving on stone. She peered over the top of the coverlet to see the tapestry on the wall opposite her bed bulge out. The corner lifted, and a figure stepped from behind it, exposing a dark opening in the stone itself.
Her breath hissed over her teeth.
“Hush, leannán,” came a whisper. “’Tis only me.”
She sat upright. “Rob?”
“Who else were ye expecting, lass?” he whispered back. Rob walked toward the bed, peeling off his plaid as he came. “I wasn’t sure the doorway from the laird’s chamber to this one still worked. It hasna been tried since my father’s time, ye ken, but the workmanship was solid, and the lever still moved the stone.”
“What are ye doing here?” She lay back down and pulled the covers up to her nose.
His smile flashed white even in the dim light of the braziers. “That should be obvious.” He pulled off his boots and stockings, unbelted his kilt, and let it drop to the floor. He stood by the side of her bed in just his thigh-length shirt with his hands fisted on his waist. “I’m come to bed my beloved.”
“No,” she hissed, mindful of Albus outside her door.
He frowned down at her. “What d’ye mean ‘no’?”
“I mean unless ye intend to tie me down, there’ll be no bedding, my lord.”
“That sounds like a good game. We’ll use the cords holding back the bed curtains, aye?” He pulled down the coverlet and climbed in with her. “Ye surprise me, lass. I didna think ye were so adventurous.”
“D’ye want me to scream?” she asked, shocked that he didn’t seem the least deterred.
“Only if the pleasure is so great ye canna contain yourself,” he said, reaching to pull her close. “But I think we might want to be more discreet than that if we can.”
She straight-armed him. “Rob, no.”
“Ye’re serious?”
“As a three-day toothache.”
He raised up, sending cold air spilling under the blankets, and looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“How can ye ask me that?” She wanted to leap out of bed and pace the room, but it was too cold, and his body had brought much-needed warmth to the sheets before he sat back up. Even now, he generated more heat than both the smoking braziers. “Ye sent me up here alone.”
“No, I didna. Albus lit your way.”
“Ye know what I mean.”
“D’ye think it would have been better for your reputation if I’d escorted ye to your chamber?”
Irritation fizzed in her belly. She hated it when he was right. “Ye set a guard over me while ye make merry in your Great Hall with the people who hate me—”
“No one hates ye.” He lay back down and pulled the coverlet over both of them up to their chins.
“Ye dinna wish to see the truth, then.” She turned and gave him her back. “Your people blame me for the trouble outside the gates. No one wants me here.”
His hand was heavy on her shoulder, warm and reassuring. “I want ye here.”
“As your prisoner,” she said, refusing to be comforted.
“No, love.”
He stroked her from the tip of her shoulder to the nape of her neck. She fought against the shiver of delight that danced in the wake of his hand.
“Ye are guarded for your own protection,” he said.
“As a man protects his hostage, then.” She edged away from him, but not too far. He was so warm. “Ye intend to use me so ye can draw Drummond into single combat. So ye can have your bloody revenge.”
He snorted like a stallion. “Aye, that’s how it began. I’ll no’ deny it.” Then she felt him shift toward her, and his next words were whispered directly into her ear. “But everything’s changed now.”
He planted a string of baby kisses along her neck and suckled her earlobe. Her body rioted in pleasure.
“Aye, ye’re certainly changed,” she said, tamping down her reaction to him. “So polite. So correct, ye are. So reserved to me before your people. I hardly recognize ye.”
“But I recognize ye. And every time I see ye, I ache to hold ye, Elspeth. I want to sling ye over my shoulder and carry ye off again, with a hand up your skirt fondling yer sweet arse as I go,” he said huskily, suiting his actions to his words. “But if I dinna treat ye with distant courtesy before others, how would that look, ye think?”
As if we’d become lovers during the course of our journey, she answered him silently. Her bottom warmed under his touch, but she resisted admitting he was probably wise to restrain himself in public.
“I thought ye’d appreciate that I was having a care for your good name,” he said.
He continued to stroke her buttocks, pulling up the thin chemise as he did so, till he touched her bare skin. He circled each globe of her bottom then reached between her legs to cup her sex in his palm. Elspeth bit her lip to keep from making a noise of pleasure, but she knew he could tell her body had roused to him. She was moist and warm and swollen, aching for his touch.
“But if ye dinna care one way or the other,” he said as he nuzzled her neck, “I’ll swive ye on the main table in the Great Hall on the morrow before God and everybody, instead of breaking my fast.”
“Ye willna.” She wiggled out of his grasp, rolled over, and faced him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt his belly jiggle with a suppressed chuckle.
“No, lass, I willna.” He claimed her lips with a quick kiss. “But not for lack of wanting to. Only because I couldna bear for anyone else to see ye in the glorious altogether. That’s a delight for me alone.”
Against her better judgment, a smile curved her lips. “Ye’ll no’ be seeing much of me now. ’Tis too cold to go about naked.”
“Then I’ll have to warm ye,” he said, pulling the covers over both their heads. Then he climbed atop her, settling between her legs before she even realized she’d spread them. “Skin against skin is the best thing for warming a body.”
“Is it now?”
“Aye, let me show ye.” He pulled off his shirt and flipped the blankets back long enough to give it a tos
s to the floor. There was enough light for Elspeth to catch sight of his handsome face, lit with lust and the promise of fevered lovemaking. Then he covered them again, throwing them into almost total darkness.
“I canna see for ye to show me anything,” she said.
“Can ye no’? I’m fair cat-eyed in the dark myself,” he said. “For instance, I can see to untie your chemise right enough.”
She felt his fingers working the drawstring knot above her breasts. After it gave, he spread the neck of her bodice wide.
“And I can see your beautiful breasts.” He kissed his way down to an aching nipple.
She couldn’t suppress the urge to arch herself into his mouth.
“And if sight fails me,” he said as he kissed along the valley between her breasts to claim the other one, “my mouth and hands seem to be able to find their way around ye just fine without my eyes to guide them.”
He demonstrated his ability by rucking the chemise up and pulling it over her head before she hardly knew that was his aim. Then he settled again, and his warmth and hard maleness chased away her chills. His lips found hers for a long, deep kiss.
“Oh, Rob,” she said when she finally came up for air, “ye make it so hard to think.”
“Good, I dinna want ye to think.” He smoothed her hair back, kissing her temples, her cheeks, her closed eyes.
“But—”
He covered her lips with a finger. “I only want ye to feel.”
He trailed his hand down from her mouth, skimming his fingertips over her chin, her throat. He teased her breasts; then he slid off her so he could continue his journey past her ribs to circle her navel in slow strokes.
“And when we’re done feeling?” she asked with a hitch in her voice. It was hard to think past the next time his fingers left her belly to tease the curling hairs at the juncture of her thighs. “Then what?”
“Dinna fret, lass. I have a plan for us.”
He stayed to dally in her damp curls, dividing, lifting, stroking each dewy crevice. Her breath shuddered.
“Trust me,” he said softly. “’Twill be all right, ye’ll see.”
“What…?” She tilted herself into his hand’s exploration. Sparks of pleasure licked her. “What d’ye wish me to do?”
“Beg,” he whispered. “I wish ye to beg, love.”
Chapter 28
“Dinna move, love.”
Rob hadn’t used the bed-curtain cords to tie her, but Elspeth obeyed his order to keep still all the same. Every time she moved, he stopped. She couldn’t bear that.
Every fiber of her body, every finger-width of her skin strained toward him, longing for them to join. He’d teased her with his cock’s nearness twice, slipping just the tip of him inside her aching emptiness, but he pulled back to torment her more each time. When she moved to stroke him, to entice him back, he gently pushed her hand away, pinioning her spread-eagled.
“This time is for ye, Elspeth.” He kissed down her ribs, past her belly, and settled between her splayed legs. “I dinna wish ye to think on anything but your own pleasure.”
“What of your pleasure?” she’d asked between gasps as his tongue flogged her intimate places.
He paused, midlick. “Any man who says this didna give him pleasure is a dead man. I love the soft, secret parts of ye, Elspeth, all musky sweet with your dew. And I love that this special bit of ye is only for me.”
She was ready to surrender every bit of herself, not just the throbbing mass between her legs. She trembled. She lost control of her limbs. She balled the sheets in her tightly clenched fists. She drew near, teetering on sharp-edged longing. Then as the first contraction pulsed in her nether lips, Rob pulled back.
“Ach, Rob, please!”
He rose and covered her, mouth to mouth, body to body. His full length filled her in one long thrust, and she was once again near the edge of bliss.
“That’s all I was waiting for, love,” he whispered. “Ye beg so prettily, how can I refuse ye?”
He rocked his hips, and the pressure on her sensitive spot sent her over the edge. Her inner walls spasmed around him in violent embrace. It was as if she was coming unraveled, and the only thing keeping her from unspooling completely was the solid length of his cock. He arched his back, plunging deeper as she continued to pulse.
His kiss swallowed up her cry of completion.
Once she finally stopped throbbing, he began to move slowly. Still aglow from her release, Elspeth fell into rhythm with him. She peppered his neck with kisses. She whispered urgent endearments. She loved every bit of this man with every bit of herself.
And when he came inside her, she held his shuddering frame, still rocking against him, drawing him farther in. He was hers. She would have all of him.
Peace descended like a mantle, draping over them, sheltering them. The armies beyond the walls faded from Elspeth’s mind. There was no rush. No need. All that mattered was holding each other and protecting their joining for as long as it could last.
“I love ye, lass,” Rob whispered as he finally slipped out of her. “Ye ken that, aye?”
“Aye. Ye loved me so well I almost dinna need to hear it, but I’m glad for it all the same,” she whispered back. “I love ye, too.”
“On the morrow—”
“Let’s not waste our time together on such things.” She put a finger to his lips. “The morrow will care for itself.”
“All right.” He rolled to one side and snugged her against him. “What shall we talk of, then?”
“I wasna thinking of talking.” She stole away from him and out from under the covers, braving the cold room long enough to retrieve one of the bed-curtain cords. “I was wondering what it will take to make ye beg.”
***
The morning dawned gray and mizzling. No hint of the sun’s warmth cut through the lowering sky. Rob girded himself in his hardened leather breastplate and strapped on his greaves and forearm guards. He was determined to have his parley with Stewart and Drummond before the heavens burst open and the light rain became a drenching torrent. He mounted the second-best horse in his stable.
He missed Falin. Since the stallion hadn’t found his way back to his own stall, Rob feared the worst. He hated to imagine Falin coming to a bad end in a wolf’s belly. He preferred thinking the wicked beastie was kicking up his heels, wallowing in his freedom, and rutting every stray mare he found.
Hamish sauntered into the stable and swung his leg up and over a roan gelding.
“Ye dinna have to come with me,” Rob said.
“I’m no’ likely to let ye go alone, am I?” Hamish said.
“I’ll come to no harm under a flag of truce.” Rob nudged his mount into a sedate walk across the bailey. Hamish rode alongside as the milling populace parted before them. Rob motioned for the portcullis to be raised, and the drawbridge lowered.
“Ordinarily, I’d agree with ye. Men of honor respect an offer to parley.” Hamish hefted the pole with the white flag fluttering at the top, and clomped across the bridge behind Rob. “But that means ye must trust Lachlan Drummond to be honorable. I’ve no’ got that much trust in me. Ye might have signaled from the safety of the walls and given Stewart and Drummond safe conduct.”
“No, I need to be seen making this offer of peace,” Rob said. “By both sides.”
But only one person seeing him do this really mattered to him. He knew Elspeth watched him from the battlements of Caisteal Dubh, though he resisted turning to look at her. She needed to see that he was trying to settle this impasse, that he wished to make peace with her father.
But damned if he’d make peace with her former bridegroom.
***
“This canna be. ’Tis a trick,” Lachlan said, narrowing his eyes at the approaching pair of horsemen. The colors of the cap
arison on one of the mounts declared its rider was the MacLaren himself. “Mad Rob wasna inside the castle when we parleyed last week. And not a soul has entered or left while we bided here.”
“That’s as may be, but they come under a flag of truce,” Stewart said, pulling on his heavy gloves. “The riders halted beyond the range of their archers and within the reach of ours. ’Tis a gesture of good faith. Whoever it is on that horse may have news of Elspeth, at least. I’m willing to hear what they have to say. ” He shot a cold glare at Drummond. “Come or stay, as ye will. ’Tis of no consequence to me what ye do.”
In the time they’d been encamped before the castle walls, squabbles between their men had strained the relationship between the two lairds. Drummond watched his ally stalk toward the groom who led the Stewart’s horse from the picket lines. If Stewart’s daughter was dead, their alliance was on shaky ground at best. It was time to mend the damage. Lachlan signaled for his horse to be brought as well.
But he didn’t hurry. The riders from the castle were the ones who wanted to parley, not he. He would have been just as happy to mount up and ride back to his own stronghold for the rest of the winter.
Once there, he’d be able to plan and find someone from Caisteal Dubh with a grudge against his laird deep enough that he might be bribed into opening the gates for Lachlan’s assault come spring.
The Dark Castle had never been taken from without. No one had tried to take it from within, but Lachlan was willing to be the first.
But Stewart would brook no delay in settling this question. If Drummond could have left him there in the mud and still kept his agreements with Stewart intact, he’d have been gone in a heartbeat.
When Alistair saw that Lachlan was making ready to join him, he reined in his mount and waited just beyond the first ranks of men. Lachlan knew all eyes were trained on them as he caught up to Stewart and they rode to meet the delegation from the castle.
He straightened his spine. Men respected strength, so he always tried to project it.
But his men also appreciated guile. Cunning was strength of a sort, after all. Lachlan wasn’t about to disappoint them.
