by Lynda Lukow
“Ye neglected to tell me ye suffered at Cameron hands.”
“I be sorry, milord, but milady’s welfare mattered more than revenge.”
“Mayhap I should thank ye for removing the choice from my hands. Go. Use my chamber to rest for we know not what the morrow will bring.” Connor looked toward the doorway. “I be sorry we woke ye.”
Ciara beamed at Dillon. “I dinna mean to eavesdrop, but I would be more than happy to show ye the way, Dillon.” At Dillon’s red-faced nod, Ciara threaded her arm through the crook of his elbow and led him away.
Connor returned to Kasey’s side. He sat on her pallet and stroked her hair. “We have come full circle, milady. I canna recall the words ye whispered as my fever raged, but I remember well the melody of yer voice.” He paused to gather his courage. “I have many weaknesses, yet when I be with ye, I feel strong enough to take on the world. I willna let ye go.”
He stripped off his garments, then lay down on the pallet. He slid his arm under her neck. “Let us survive the next day, and naught will ever separate us agin.”
****
Perspiration covered her skin. Dryness seared her mouth. Kasey tried to roll from her stomach onto her side, but heavy legs pinned her. She spied her boots next to the bed and slipped out a dagger. The animal that dared to trap her would serve her floor well.
The dirk slipped from her grasp. She stretched her arm as far as the weight upon her allowed, but she could not reach the blade. She glanced at her boots and wondered where her other dagger had gone.
“Be ye looking for this, milady?” Her captor held it. “I have given this matter great consideration. I would prefer ye greet me with good morn or good day. Should ye feel the need to do more, a kiss would serve us both well.”
The man’s impudence amazed her. She lifted her head, thinking her argument would bear more authority from an upright position, but the spinning room forced her to reconsider. She turned away from the infuriating man and mumbled an oath.
“I be sorry, Kasey. I dinna hear ye.”
“Had I meant it for yer ears, I would have spoken louder.” Kasey sighed. The man could probably hear an autumn leaf fall.
“I order ye to repeat yer words.”
She snorted. “Ye have no right to demand aught of me.” She treaded deep waters, but she had nothing to lose. She could barely move, she had no home, and she tired of others treating her like rushes on the floor.
“Only cowards whisper their thoughts.”
Two reasons earned her lashes. Either she failed to keep the ever-changing rules straight, or she failed to resist a challenge. She cleared her throat, “I called ye a conceited pig. By what right dare ye order me? And why be ye in my bed?”
He had the nerve to laugh. She pinched her lips together, then mumbled again.
“I realize ye be not in the best of health, but as ye have just proven, there be naught amiss with yer voice.”
“Ye be an arrogant oaf.” More laughter followed her slur. “Be ye too foolish to understand I have twice insulted ye?”
“Insulted? I think not. I shall remember yer compliments in the hard times ahead.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Yer fever has not yet broken, but it soon will. My sister has made fresh Dragon’s Breath.”
Kasey tensed. Though she could not see the marks, she could guess how horrid they looked.
“Dinna worry. I shall stay with ye.”
“I dinna need ye here.”
“Ye ken not the burn of the Dragon.”
“And ye do?” Only one person outside her clan had felt the potion’s burn, and he did not lay beside her. “How did yer sister learn of Dragon’s Breath?”
“Broderick told us of yer dorlach’s contents and the key to yer code.”
“Broderick? Be I at Inverness?”
“Nay. Ye be at the MacPherson holding.”
She relaxed. At least the MacPhersons held no malice toward the Camerons. But why would Broderick be here? Like Hunter, he had forsaken her years before. Naught made sense.
“Rest. Dragon’s Breath will require all yer strength.”
Kasey’s eyes drooped, but before she yielded to sleep, she asked, “How would ye ken of Dragon’s Breath?”
Someone knocked at the door. Connor called out, “One moment.” He rose and pulled on his trews and tunic.
“Enter.” Connor nodded at Evonne’s curtsy. Her swollen lips and whisker-burned cheeks showed she and Gavin had spent their time together wisely. “Ye no longer wear the braces on yer legs?”
“Nay, milord. Thanks to my dear husband, my limbs be as good as ever.” She looked toward the pallet and gasped.
Connor put his hand on her shoulder. “Dinna worry, Evonne. Mackintosh men make Cameron women whole.”
“May I stay with her, milord?”
Connor nodded, then smiled at her before he left the chamber. His grin remained, even after he bumped into Euan. He nodded, “MacPherson, how be ye this fine morn?”
Euan raised a brow. “I be well, Mackintosh. Has the lady’s fever waned?”
“Not yet, but I be sure Kasey will heal quickly after my sister applies Dragon’s Breath.”
“Aye, my wife be quite the healer.”
Connor pounded Euan’s back. “Correct, laird, but Annie has been my sister much longer than she has been yer wife. I shall never stop caring for her, just as ye will forever worry about Ciara. Besides, I still dinna ken if ye be worthy of Annie’s hand. Mayhap ye can, once and for all, prove yer value.”
“Pray tell me. What might I do for ye?”
“A haircut and a shave would be a good start.”
“It may help, but I can do naught about the ugly countenance aneath the hair.” Euan chuckled. “Why in blazes have ye allowed yerself to become mangier than a wolf?”
Connor crossed his arms. “I shall have ye know, MacPherson, I trimmed my hair and beard so I dinna frighten ye.”
Euan snorted.
“I vowed not to shave or cut my hair until Kasey returned. Let us get on with this!”
“Stop by the kitchens and get a bowl of hot water and a few linens. By the time I gather my blade and soap, I expect to find ye in the great hall hidden neath a steaming cloth.”
“Ye dinna use flowery soap, do ye?”
Euan nodded. After Connor rolled his eyes, MacPherson burst out laughing. “Annie loves me enough to make pine-scented soap.”
“Good to hear. I canna abide smelling like a spring garden.”
Connor had barely settled under the steaming cloth before Euan lifted it.
“Ye be in luck. Annie has offered to tend ye.”
He looked over at his sister and noticed the blade trembled in her hand. “She will slit my throat.”
“Tempting as that sounds, I care not to clean the mess.”
Euan whispered. “She always be a bit nervous afore she draws blood.”
“Pray tell me, brother. What has so brightened yer mood?” Annie hacked off a handful of hair.
As the locks floated to the floor, he prayed his sister did not hack his hair as she had eight summers before. “I had a wee argument with Kasey.”
“Ye always did enjoy a war of words. I thought ye cruel all the times ye taunted me.”
After she set aside the shears, Connor ran his hands over his head. He would be grateful if it looked half as good as it felt. “Have ye a looking glass?”
“Vain as ever. Ye can wait until I scrape those whiskers from yer face.” She slid the blade of the dirk over a sharpening stone. “Ye willna distress Kasey.”
“Aye, milady.” The way she held the dagger, he would have agreed to give up his firstborn.
She soaped his cheeks and jaw. “I mean what I say. Ye will wait to begin yer games.”
“She cowers within her own walls. She will get no better until she remembers how to fight.” Connor raised his head so his sister could shave under his jaw.
“Do ye wish to keep the hair under yer nose?”
He shook his head,
opened his mouth, and pulled his top lip down over his teeth.
Annie giggled. “Ye look like a hare.” She made quick work of the task.
Connor glanced at Euan. “I much prefer being compared to a mangy wolf.”
Euan shrugged. “Hares be fleet-footed.”
“Aye, but wolves protect their own. I expect ye to remember yer oath to Clan Chattan. I ken no bad blood exists atween the MacPhersons and the Camerons, but ye have pledged yer fealty to me.”
“Milord?” The strain in Evonne’s voice, the tears streaming down her cheeks needed no other words.
Death stalked Connor’s beloved. Her face had taken on a grayish tone. Her slow and shallow breaths had a distinct rattle. He ran to the pallet. “Ye canna die, Kasey! Fight, damn ye, fight!”
“I…be…too…weary.”
Shaken by her weak, raspy voice, Connor trembled as he took her hand in his. “Borrow my strength.”
Her fingers tightened.
“I shall never let ye down again. Look at me, Kasey!”
It seemed to take great effort for her to pry her eyes open. He leaned down until his nose nearly touched hers and waited for her to focus.
“It canna be.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Hunter?”
Moisture brimmed in his eyes. “I have never forsaken ye, Kasey. I pray ye will find it in yer heart to forgive me, for the king has granted me yer troth. Like it or not, milady, ye will soon be my wife.”
Kasey closed her eyes and shook her head. His chest tightened at her refusal. He sniffed back his tears and vowed to win her heart. Someone jabbed his thigh. He turned to see Annie.
“Begone.”
Maggie moved a chair into the place he vacated.
“Dinna let this oaf distress ye. I have known him all my life and will gladly teach ye how to handle him when ye get well.” Annie pulled back Kasey’s covers. “I have warmed freshly made Dragon’s Breath. We must apply it before it cools, aye?”
Kasey nodded.
“I have been told its name came from its burn. Would ye like a sleeping potion, milady?” She pulled open the nightwear and revealed the wounds.
“Nay. Must stay awake.”
Connor tensed as Annie dribbled the potion on Kasey’s back. The burn would begin anon. He made ready to hold her down.
Kasey did not scream, nor did she flinch. One hiss escaped her lips, but naught more. He walked around the pallet. A small smile graced her lips.
It had taken every bit of his control not to howl like an injured wolf. Yet Kasey lay, looking peaceful.
Just before he accused Annie of doing aught wrong, he remembered she wore that same look when he removed the arrow.
“Milord?” Gavin panted from the doorway. “An urgent matter requires yer presence belowstairs.”
“Ye dinna seem to need me here.” After both Annie and Maggie shook their heads, he followed Gavin into the corridor. “I canna understand how she tolerates such pain.”
“Pray ye have the chance to learn. MacPherson patrols have spotted contingents from both the Grant and Cameron clans heading this way. Euan and Broderick have gone to greet them.”
Connor hastened to the great hall. He waited until the king finished speaking with the MacPherson’s priest, before he bowed.
“How fares Kasey?”
“Within her chest beats the heart of a warrior.” Connor hoped his pride rang through his voice as well as his words.
“How long until Lady MacPherson finishes?”
“I canna say. Be there a reason to hurry, sire?”
“Gavin has informed ye of the MacPhersons’ visitors?”
Connor nodded.
“Then ye ken the reason, Laird Mackintosh.”
Connor clasped his hands behind his back. He had not yet the chance to woo her, to prove his worth. He had dreamed they would stand before the altar in the Mackintosh chapel, her love beaming in the gaze she cast upon him. “Dare I ask ye to delay the Cameron, sire?”
“Time be a treasure we have not, laird.” The king sighed. “If ye wish me to set aside yer betrothal—”
“Nay, my liege.”
“If Laird Cameron enters this holding afore ye have wed, he will claim his right to her custody.”
“He would kill her afore they left these walls,” Connor paused. “Unless I kill him first.”
“As naught more than her betrothed, ye dinna have the right to avenge her abuse. If ye kill Laird Cameron, Kasey would still return to her clan.”
Connor prayed Kasey would someday understand he had no choice. He looked at the priest. “Be ye ready?”
Broderick and Euan entered the hall. After they bowed to the king, Connor asked, “What have ye learned?”
“Both lairds demand an audience with ye, yer majesty.”
“For what purpose, Broderick?”
“I be not worthy of such knowledge, sire.”
“Nor I,” Euan said, “but Cameron’s tone raised my hackles.”
Connor raised a brow. “Why would Laird Cameron seek the king’s counsel now, after years of blatant disobedience?”
“There be more. Neither laird liked that I forbade their men access to my holding, especially since Mackintosh soldiers camp near my stables.”
“They took greater insult when ye informed them that only they would be allowed access to the king.” Broderick shook his head. “I thought Laird Cameron would burst into flame.”
Euan nodded. “Despite my assurances for their safety, both lairds insisted their second-in-commands join the discussion.”
“Then they shall, MacPherson. I have complete faith yer men and mine will assure my safety.” The king turned to Broderick. “Inform the lairds one man may accompany each of them this night. After we sup, I will hear their petitions.”
He turned to Connor. “Ye and yer brothers willna partake in the evening festivities, but I expect ye to guard from the shadows. Off with ye. The priest awaits ye abovestairs.”
“Aye, yer majesty.” Connor bowed and quit the hall. Last night Annie asked him if he could hurry the sands of time. Today he wished he could slow them. He may not be able to delay his vows, but…
He entered Kasey’s chamber without knocking. His sister’s gaze hardened as soon as it met his.
“Ye canna think to wed her now. She has sacrificed so much for ye, would ye have her forfeit a proper wedding, too?”
“Ye can witness or ye can leave. In either case, I shall not hear another word from ye.”
“I wish to be present.”
Connor looked over his shoulder at Broderick. “Ye deserve the honor more than any.”
“What say ye, laird?”
Connor smiled inwardly at the emissary’s apparent offense. “Our king has informed me without yer persuasion he would not have granted my petition. I thank ye.”
“See that ye treat her well.”
He should have taken insult to Broderick’s warning, but considering all Kasey had endured, he could not. After several unsuccessful attempts to rouse his bride, he knelt next to her pallet and whispered, “Please forgive me, love.” He took her hand. “Ye may proceed, father.”
“Hold!” The king called. “We shall not miss this.”
Evonne, Gavin, Dillon, Ciara, and Euan crowded in behind him.
Without the bride’s words, the ceremony took little time. Connor stroked her hair and vowed as soon as she healed, he would insist on another ceremony. She deserved the fancy kirtle, the flowers, and the chance to speak her vows.
In order for the marriage to be undisputable, he had one more task to attend. He turned toward the witnesses. Gavin had laid one hand on Evonne’s shoulders, and his other wiped away her tears. Annie stood with her back pressed against Euan’s chest and sniffled. Dillon held Ciara’s hand, and she smiled up at him. Broderick handed Maggie linen to dry her tears. Only the king stood alone.
“I thank ye for yer presence, now if ye will excuse us?”
The women’s eyes grew wide, and the men nodded.
Gavin dragged his reluctant wife from the chamber. Ciara glared at Connor and spun on her heel. Annie wrenched away from her husband’s grasp and stalked over to her brother.
“Ye canna think…?” Anger iced her voice. “She be in no condition to…”
Euan took her hand. “Understand, wife, Connor canna delay with Laird Cameron so near.”
Connor winked. “Have some faith in me, Annie.”
He hustled her and the others out of the chamber. After he closed the door, he sat on the chair by Kasey’s side and kissed her cool brow. “I had often dreamed of our wedding night, but never like this.”
After removing his trews, he rolled Kasey onto her side and pulled her nightgown over her hip. He lay down beside her, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He imagined the night when he would make her his. Enfolded in each other’s arms, they would lay on his bed. Though he burned, he would proceed slowly. He would gaze into her eyes as he lowered his mouth. With each touch of his lips, each caress of his tongue, he would stoke her passion. Her uncertain kisses would grow more demanding.
As he fondled her silken breasts, their tips would harden under his thumbs. After he suckled her peaks, he would lick and kiss down her belly, eager to taste her honey. At the first touch of his tongue, she would try to pull away. But with his hands on her buttocks, he would press her to him. She would cede to the pleasure and pull his mouth tighter against her. Before she came apart, he would return his lips to hers. He would tease her folds with tip of his arousal until she begged him to enter her.
He wrapped his hand around his sex.
In one thrust, he would fill her. She would arch her back. Her sheath would be hot, wet. She would raise her hips to meet his hastening strokes. Her nectar would bathe him. He would come apart, moaning into her mouth as he now did the pillow.
He took some time to catch his breath. Not since the day he had discovered the wonders of women had he succumbed to spilling his own seed. He prayed God understood his reasons. He may have had to wed a sleeping bride, but he would be damned if he would bed her before they both could share the joy.
He reached over Kasey and unsheathed one of her daggers. Leaning on his elbow, he made a small cut in his upper thigh, then mixed his blood with his seed and smeared the fluids between her thighs.
