by Merry Farmer
“I spent the better part of a year hating ye for what ye did, Liam,” he said, matter-of-factly. When he lifted his eyes to his friend once more, he shrugged. “But Char has forgiven ye, and I find myself trusting ye once more.”
Liam inclined his head. “Thank ye.”
Tav winked at her. “I’ll leave ye be. Just donae tell anyone I’m such a poor chaperone I left the two of ye alone. In yer chamber.” His eyes cut toward the canopied bed. “Again.”
“Ye’re a terrible chaperone,” Charlotte managed. “And I love ye for it.”
“Go away, Tav,” Liam growled.
Her brother probably smirked as he sauntered out, but Charlotte wasn’t watching him. Nay, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Liam, and how…strong he looked.
When he turned to flick the latch on the door, ensuring no one would bother them, her eyes skimmed the width of his shoulders and the curve of his stubbled jaw. He was hearty and hale. Noble. Strong. Worthy.
The kind of man a woman would be lucky to have love her.
She tugged him back, willing him to meet her eyes. “Ye’ll stand with me?”
“I’ll stand beside ye, Char. Not in front of ye, nor in back of ye, but beside ye.”
“When I answer the royal summons?” That’s what he’d promised Tav.
“Forever.”
Hearing the vow ripped a half-laugh, half-sob from Char’s lips. She shook her head.
“Ye say we’ll benefit from whatever the Queen has planned, and nae harm will come to me for my treason. But ‘tis hard to believe Elizabeth just accepted my evidence and agreed to punish John—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head, and she damn near swallowed her voice, her heart leaping into her throat at that small action.
Which part was he disagreeing with?
Had she misunderstood what he’d said to Tav? Had her hope been premature?
Blue eyes bore into hers for a long moment—searching, challenging—before he glanced away.
Had she won their contest of wills? Or lost?
“The King would no’ accuse him of treason, Char,” Liam finally said, his attention on the stool where she’d been sitting so recently. “He couldnae risk making an enemy of the MacDonalds.”
She nodded stiffly, her head aching already from Annas’s pulling and prodding. It was hard to think with her hair all tied up like this!
“That makes sense, and I was afraid ‘twould be his decision.”
“Robert is wily, Char, and his wife is intelligent. Elizabeth has a plan.”
“For John?”
He swallowed. “For ye.”
His eyes met hers, and the hesitation—the fear?—she saw there, gutted her.
He was too strong to be afraid for himself. Nay, he was worried for her, and she knew what that meant.
The King’s sentence.
Liam obviously knew the sentence his cousin was going to pass down on her, and if he was looking at her this way, it could only mean …
He’d lied to Tav. He’d lied to make her brother think she’d be safe. She should be angry, but all she felt was gratitude he’d managed to keep Tav safe.
She swallowed. She’d accepted her own death was a possible outcome of her plan before she’d ever carried it out… But now she’d been given the possibility of a future with Liam, she found herself regretting it.
Her hand somehow found its way to his chest, and her fingers spread across the fine linen of his shirt under the swath of Bruce plaid. His heart beat strongly, and she closed her eyes on the bitter realization she’d not be able to enjoy it beyond that moment.
“The King?” she finally managed to ask.
Liam’s hand covered hers, but she didn’t open her eyes, knowing she would see the pity showing in his.
“Aye?” he asked, clearly not understanding her question.
“Ye… Ye ken his decision?” she whispered.
It was a long moment before he spoke. “He left it up to Elizabeth.”
The Queen, who had even more reason to be angry at Charlotte than her husband did.
“Oh.” It was all she could manage.
But Liam understood. Of course he did. “She’s come to a decision.”
Charlotte’s knees went weak. Mayhap she’d have fallen, except Liam was there, his free arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her against his chest. There, she could finally open her eyes, her gaze locking onto the far window.
Would this be her last sight of the sun? Her last embrace with the man she loved?
The man who didn’t even know she still loved him.
She was no coward, but she’d put off hearing the Queen’s sentence a few more moments, if it meant savoring the feel of Liam’s arms around her. The universe shrunk to this warmth, this safety. Each heartbeat lasted eons, each breath was a shared lifetime together.
But all too soon, Liam shifted. “Charlotte? Would ye care to hear her decision?”
Nay!
She’d care to spend the rest of her life wrapped in his arms, just like this.
But even as she thought it, her ears recognized the smile in his voice. She pulled away, just enough to plant her other hand against his chest and look up into his face.
Aye, he was smiling.
Her eyes widened at the sight, and her heart leapt, closing off her throat in a fierce, sudden hope.
Liam’s lips twitched wider. “The Queen thanks ye for yer service, Charlotte MacLeod, and acknowledges yer bravery in bringing a traitor to royal attention. Furthermore, she’ll pardon ye completely, if ye— Well…” Liam shook his head. “There’s a few clauses in there, but the most important one is, she wants to offer ye a position at court.”
Charlotte’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t manage to make any sounds emerge. She swallowed and tried again. “A position? A…job?”
He released her hand and lifted his palm to cup her cheek. “I didnae ask particulars, love. I was too desperate to reach ye, to tell ye the news.”
Her chest felt numb.
Why?
Was it because, after the terror and acceptance and hope of the last few moments, she wasn’t sure what to feel now?
“A pardon?” Charlotte whispered. “She’s forgiven me?”
“There are a few details remaining, but aye. Do ye ken what this means, Char?”
When he tipped her chin upward, their lips were only inches away. Her gaze landed on his lips, full and perfect, and even now pulled into a teasing grin. Liam loved her. He wouldn’t grin, wouldn’t tease, if there was anything less than what they’d planned so long ago…
“A future,” she breathed.
“Aye,” he agreed, with a solemn nod. “I’ll be marrying nae one other than ye, Charlotte MacLeod.”
And suddenly, she wasn’t numb. Nay, instead, a certainty filled her, pouring down from the top of her head, through her chest and her limbs, and settling deep within her, the warmth of her core now pressing against his hips. She pushed herself up on her toes, thrusting that warmth, that ache, against the hard length of him.
“Mayhap ye should ask me first then, Liam?”
His grin faded slowly, his gaze turning serious. Against her cheek, his thumb began making small circles. “Have ye forgiven me for abandoning ye then? I meant what I said that day on the Queen’s ship, Char. I love ye, and have never stopped.”
He hadn’t abandoned her. Her pain over the last year could be laid directly at her father’s feet. Ignoring the pain and betrayal from her own father, which threatened to overwhelm her, she instead focused on Liam’s words and grinned and wriggled her hips against him.
“Ye’re no’ at fault, my heart. And I wouldnae have been heartbroken, had I no’ still loved ye so much.”
He sucked in a breath, and she knew she’d been a fool to keep from declaring her love for him remained just as strong and as true as ever.
“Aye, Liam. I love ye.”
“Thank God,” he growled, right before his lips crashed down
upon hers.
Chapter 10
The Queen had sent him to fetch Charlotte, knowing she’d be waiting, worried and afraid, for her royal audience. Aye, even now, Liam’s liege and his sworn lord were waiting for him to bring Charlotte to them. Robert and Elizabeth were ready to discuss her future.
Their future.
And Liam couldn’t make himself care, not with Charlotte finally—finally!—in his arms again.
She tasted just as perfect as he remembered, for all that their kiss on the birlinn had left him wanting. She tasted of summer afternoons and moonlit nights.
She tasted of his future and joy and forever.
“Thank God,” he groaned again, his arm joining his other around her middle, so he could lift her tighter against him.
And when she moaned in response, as her arms snaked up from his chest to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer, he was lost. Liam was too busy focusing on the feel of her lips under his, to recognize anything more than the fact they had somehow ended up on the bed. Instead of plying her with the romance she deserved, he’d instead toppled over and pulled her atop him. But when he felt her lips lift in a grin against his, he returned a rakish smile of his own.
One of her legs straddled his, the center of her being nestled exactly where he wanted it. His cock was already hard, straining against his kilt, and when she shifted against him, it gave another jump.
With a whimper, she pulled away from him, long enough to run one hand down his neck to his chest. Feeling her palm against his nipple was all he needed.
He used one hand to tug her closer so she fell against him, and his other began to hike her skirts up.
Why in damnation was she wearing such a bulky gown? Once they were married, she’d wear only linen and—
His determined planning swiftly left his mind as she moaned and lowered her head, her neck and shoulder thrusting toward his lips. Stretching up, he was able to mark the smooth skin of her neck with his mouth, at the same moment his questing fingers finally found her firm arse.
The noise she made was somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and as he squeezed her rear end, she began to rock against him.
“Liam,” she panted. “Please.”
Dimly, he remembered his duty, and thought it miraculous, considering how much of his blood was currently flowing between his legs instead of his brain. “The Queen—” he began, but bit off the reminder with a groan, as Charlotte reached between them to grasp his erection through his kilt.
“She pardoned me for treason, Liam,” Charlotte managed, as she scrambled to one side, yanking her skirts up and out of the way as she fumbled for his kilt. “She’ll pardon me for being a few moments late.”
“Moments, lass?” he growled, as he rolled, pushing her into the mattress as he went. “Ye think that’s all this will take?”
And damn her, but her grin was impish when she looked up at him with those passion-dark eyes and swollen lips. “This time, ye’ll have to just make it quick, love,” she commanded.
And he was lost. “Aye, my lady.”
She was already wet for him, as he’d known she would be. And as he dragged a finger across her core, she arched under him, and mewled under his ministrations.
He grasped hold of his cock, already thick with anticipation, and pressed it against her entrance, then paused there, knowing it’d been a year since he’d last sunk into her, and knowing she’d been violated since that time.
“Char?”
He wasn’t sure if he was asking permission or forgiveness or what, but she took the decision out of his hands when she shifted beneath him, opening herself further, and pushing her heated core up around his cock.
They both sucked in a breath, then moaned simultaneously, as he sheathed himself deep within her.
“God, Char,” he growled, dropping his forehead to hers.
“Donae stop now,” she commanded, pushing at him as she wriggled her hips, forcing him even deeper. “I cannae— Liam!” She cried out with a moan, and he was all too happy to accommodate her.
He pulled out just slightly, before sinking home once more, and the noise she made was desperate.
“Now, Liam!”
He was chuckling as he pulled out once more, farther still. “Will ye always be this demanding, love?”
Her fingers gripped his shoulders now, as if she could control his movements. “Only if ye persist in treating me gently— Aye!” she cried as he took her hints and thrust into her tightness. “Like that! Again!”
It might’ve been funny, but he couldn’t find the humor, not when she was moaning beneath him. Instead, his fingers crept to the place where they were joined, and his thumb circled the little pearl of her pleasure as he plunged into her. She cried out again, with joy this time, and he damn near spilled at that very moment.
It wasn’t long before he felt her tightening around him, the once-familiar sensation tugging directly at the ache behind his bollocks, pulling him deeper into the center of her. She arched again, pressing her curls against his hand, and her knees—God Almighty, still tangled in that fancy gown—clamped on either side of his hips.
“Liam!” As her head fell back against the mattress, her breasts pushed toward him, and he wished he could taste them as well. But only a few seconds later, her inner muscles began their rhythmic spasms, accompanied by her own rocking and chants of, “I love you, I love you,” and he ached to join her.
A few more thrusts, and he did, spilling against her womb and praying it would mean a future for both of them.
Had it only been a few minutes between their kiss at the door and now, lying tangled in their finery on her bed, their breaths mingling with panting and kisses and promises?
“I love you,” he whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to the corner of her lips as he rolled to one side, pulling her into his arms as he went.
Her eyes were closed, and she smiled, but didn’t answer. She didn’t have too; he would always remember her chanted declaration as he’d made love to her. She loved him, and it was enough.
Almost.
“Char,” he prompted gently. “Marry me.”
Her eyes still closed, she hummed. “Was that a command, or a request?”
“A request, ye daft woman.” He blew out a breath, half in frustration, half in laughter. “Ye have nae idea how it felt, hearing what that bastard did to ye. I wanted to track him down and rip open his heart.”
“Will ye?”
Her question took him off guard, and after a moment, she opened her eyes and met his.
“Will ye take me with ye, when ye do?”
He tightened his hold on her, knowing he could never let her go. “I cannae kill the bastard if my liege forbids it.”
“But if ye could?” Her fingers skimmed his jaw, before resting against the hollow at the base of his throat.
“I would. I will keep ye safe, Char.” He swallowed. “If ye’ll have me.”
Her smile was a little sad. “Ye cannae keep me anything, Liam, any more than I could keep ye.”
She was right.
He lifted her hand and pressed it against his heart. “Then let us keep one another. Together. Marry me?”
“That sounds lovely. Whatever the Queen has in mind for us, we’ll stand by one another?”
“Aye. As God intended.”
This time, she giggled a bit as her lips lifted, and she rolled away from him. “Then aye, Liam, I’d be thrilled to marry ye.” She pushed herself to her knees. “I’ve wanted ye for my husband since we met, and I’m only sorry it took us so long to get here.”
His own grin was rueful, as he pushed himself upright as well. “If ye’re busy keeping me as a husband, I’ll keep ye as a wife, and we’ll do our best to put this last year behind us.”
“Ye mean yer abandonment?”
She was teasing him, so he teased right back. “Aye,” he said solemnly, “and yer foray into piracy and treason.”
“Then I accept yer suit, Liam Bruce, and will
be proud to be yer wife, come what may.”
He clambered off the bed, then reached out a hand toward her. “Come what may?”
She took his forearm and allowed him to pull her to stand beside him. “I wonder what the King and Queen—no’ to mention my father—will have to say about our union.”
“Ah, that.” He was grinning as he flicked her braid over her shoulder. “Let us make ourselves presentable once more and go meet with our lieges. I think they have something to tell us ye’ll find acceptable.”
She was grinning when she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “I love ye.”
And he knew his heart was full.
Chapter 11
Her heart should’ve been pounding, the worries and fears should’ve been crowding out all other thoughts in her head. But as Charlotte stood, hand-in-hand, with Liam in the small antechamber, while they waited for approval to approach the royal couple, all she felt was…peace.
She was at peace, and it was thanks to the man standing beside her.
Beside her, not in front of her.
They’d go through life like this, the two of them, standing side by side.
And it was that knowledge which had brought her this peace. Well, that, and the magnificent climax she’d just experienced.
When Liam squeezed her hand, she glanced in his direction. From the twinkle in his eyes, and the smirk on his lips, she knew he was having—and feeling—the exact same thoughts as she was.
Thank Heavens he remembered how to lace me back up!
Charlotte was almost certain no one would be able to look at the two of them and guess what they’d been doing only a few minutes ago.
“She’s a good woman, Char,” Liam whispered. “And a good queen. She’s offered ye a pardon, and I think the two of ye—”
Charlotte never got to hear what he thought, because at that moment, the guard beckoned them forward, and Liam tugged her into motion.
The King and Queen had a grand chamber where they sat on their thrones and passed judgment. But this solar was much smaller, much more intimate.
