by Fiona Faris
Feigning surprise, Tristan revealed nothing. “What do ye mean father? What are ye sayin’?”
His father was right in that Tristan underestimated how much he knew about Amelia and her background. What he didn’t understand was why, if his father knew Amelia was related to his mother would he be so firm in his hatred of the lass.
“Och, doona be daft, boy! Ye ken what I’m sayin’. Do ye have wool in yer ears? The sassenach witch is yer mothair’s kin. I kent takin’ an English bride would be th’ death o’ me. I didnae think it would be th’ death of her.” Laird Cabduh dropped his head into his hands and sobbed. In a way, Tristan was touched that his father obviously cared for his mother in his own way. He moved to kneel before his father. He needed to know more.
“Da, are ye sayin’ we’re related tae the woman?”
“Aye, Aye! Related, nay I, but yer bonny mothair, and ye, I guess. But ’tis no matter, the lass was sent here tae murder yer Ma! She’s a witch, and now she is goin’ after her welp of a baby brothair, up tae the MacLeods. But ye need not fash, lad. I’m a smart old man. I’m a step ahead of the lass. As soon as I sent the MacGille lad away, I also sent me best, fastest men tae send word up north. A purse for any man brings me th’ lass back alive. And a healthy purse at that.”
“How are ye doin’ that? The lass escaped days ago? Surely, she’ll be far enough away to beat yer men. And there’s nay proof Gavin went to help her.”
“Maybe he did, and maybe he’ll keep his word and bring her back here, but I will nay be made a fool. As sure as th’ moment I turn me back, ye’ll have a dirk in it and take me clan, and ye’d have the help of that MacGille lad and th’ witch.”
“Father, ye ken that’s nay true. I’d nay betray ye.” Laird Cabduh looked down at Tristan, levying the weight of his stare. Tristan almost broke. He had always been weak where his father was concerned. But in this, he would stay strong. He would not betray his friendship to Gavin, nor his promise to Amelia. He needed to know what his father was planning. “What can I do to prove tae ye that I am on yer side?”
“Och, on me side ye say? Where were ye when yer bonny mothair was takin’ her leave to be with her God? Where were ye when that witch was killing her? What can ye dae, aye, indeed what can ye dae?” The Laird drummed his fingers on the arm of his stone seat. Tristan sucked in a breath; it was the calm after the raving that was always the worst with his father. He remembered being a boy, things were different at the keep then, before his father’s madness began to show. He would race through the halls of the keep pretending to be a great warrior. Yet, if Tristan interrupted his Da or bothered him in any way, he would drum his fingers, very much like he was doing now before a severe beating would occur. Now, listening to the succinct tap, tap,tap of his father’s drumming, he braced himself for what would come next.
“I, myself, will ride to the MacLeod lands, now. Until word reaches me that she is found, we will make our way on the main road toward where we ken she’s headed. And ye are coming with me.” Tristan eyed his father with open suspicion. What could be the reason for his sudden desire for Tristan to accompany him out of the keep? “Doona look at me like that, boy! I need tae keep me eye on ye. And if ye be right about yer friend Gavin MacGille bein’ a true Scot and on our side, then all will be well.”
“And if I be wrong?” Tristan asked, dreading the answer.
“Well, if ye be wrong, and the lad is workin’ with the witch. Ye’ll be th’ one killin’ them both.”
Chapter Sixteen
Gavin heard the harsh, gravelly croak of a raven in the distance. He wasn’t one to believe in omens, but since he’d met Amelia, he wouldn’t rule any assistance out, even if it came in the form of a black bird cawing on high. His eye caught on a small lone vessel out on the water. He’d place all the meager coin in his purse on the fact that the fisherman in that boat never had to deal with an escaped prisoner or face the wrath of the Laird of Cabduh. Taking one final breath of the cool, clean air, he turned and headed into Ullapool. He had traced her movements this far. She had to be close. He knew it was to be a long day.
Surprising himself, he realized he missed her. It had been four long years without her that turned into less than a few blissful days in her company, and yet, he already felt a hole in his life where she had been.
Even now, when his mind should’ve been focused on nothing else but finding and bringing her back home, all he could think of was the long waves of her golden hair and the way it would look fanned across his chest, mingling with the tight red curls of his chest hair. He took a deep breath, running his hands through his unruly red hair in frustration. He had to find her. He needed to put an end to this madness. He needed to scrub her from his soul, then marry her and claim her as his own.
Daft lass. ’Tis still a fool’s errand. Let’s hope I can get tae her first.
* * *
Amelia sat on the dirt ground partially hidden between two large wooden barrels. Ullapool was a cold, damp place that smelled of fish and waste, but she was alive, and not in a dungeon cell. She had used the last of the coin she’d sewn into the folds of her dress for food and to barter for a barn to sleep in the night before. Now her problem was passage to get across the water to where the MacLeod Keep could be found. She would have to stow away.
Oh, Ella, if you could only see me now.
She moved from her hiding spot to try and get a better look at the ships in the bay. If she could stay hidden on the docks until nightfall, that was when she would have her best shot at sneaking onto one of the larger vessels. Yet, how would she be able to tell which boat would travel where she needed. It would do no good for her to wind up on a ship headed to Ireland. Amelia was starting to think Gavin was possibly right and this was a fool’s errand.
“Oh, Amelia, you should have listened to Gavin and waited for him,” she said aloud to no one. She backed up and came against a hard wall — not exactly a wall, a man. She slowly turned and looked up into a strong face, scarred but steady, and the familiar green eyes that haunted her dreams.
“Aye, lass, I think that’s the smartest thing ye’ve said since I’ve met ye.”
Gavin.
Amelia tried to move away, put some distance between them. She refused to believe her eyes. Her mind wrestled between how on earth he had found her and if he was truly real or a conjuring of her imagination. Gavin took hold of her wrist and pulled her to him.
“Lass, it isnae safe for ye here, we have tae get shelter.” His voice was a whisper in her ear, his breath tickled the light hairs on her neck, and a shiver went down her spine. Not safe, he was right, she certainly wasn’t safe.
Her voice could not be found, she simply nodded fighting back tears of relief. He was real, and he had found her. She allowed him to lead her away from the docks.
* * *
Gavin could stare at the thankful expression Amelia gave him when she spied the bed in the small inn room all day and well into the night. He was relieved he had found her first, and he would make sure he was the only one who found her at all.
Gavin was known in Ullapool, but Amelia was not. That was a good thing. He managed to sneak her into his room at the Crooked Horn, a well off-the-beaten-path inn, where the innkeeper doubled as a smuggler and knew how to keep a secret. Also, the value of a good, hot bath.
He had explained to her the state in which he found the mad laird, and that there were men already sent to find her. She, in turn, explained about Lady Cabduh and the relation between them. Gavin felt foolish to be relieved that Tristan would not compete for her affection, but he couldn’t help but find a shred of happiness in her revelation that the Cabduh heir was, in fact, her cousin.
“Are you angry, Gavin?” He cut a glance in her direction. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. At first, when he spotted her hiding on that dock, he had been relieved. That emotion had been quickly followed by the need to throttle her or kiss her, and he hadn’t been sure which was more pressing. He had silently dragged her t
o the inn and deposited her into the room without so much as a sideways glance. But now, looking at her on the bed, hair still wet from the bath she’d had, she looked fragile, in need. He still didn’t know what he felt, but he knew it wasn’t anger.
“Nay, lass, not angry, but why must ye be so foolish? Yer nay thinking clearly.”
“I am thinking clearly! I will admit maybe not this far along, but I have been, up until Cabduh. I swear I did not go there to spite you, Gavin. I truly did go to help when no one else could. I just… well… I wasn’t aware it would go so badly!”
“HAH! Badly, lass? Is that what ye think? Ye would’ve been killed. KILLED! Can ye nay see the harm that could come tae ye? What if there was no Tristan? What if ye didnae escape, or I didnae make it in time, and Cabduh’s men found ye first? What then?” He ran his hands through his hair and stepped back toward the door.
“What would you rather me do?” she asked. What a foolish question. Could she not see he would rather she listen to him? He would rather she came back with him to Cadney where she was safe from harm. He would rather she give up this fool’s errand. He had to get out of the room, take a walk, clear his head.
She looked alarmed, “Are you leaving, then?”
“I’ve something tae attend tae with the innkeeper. We will need a boat tae make it across the loch, and I want tae ensure I wasnae followed from Cabduh.”
“Followed, yes, of course.” He heard the coldness creeping into her voice, and he didn’t like it, any more than he liked feeling the way he did now. He had already decided he was going to help her on this mission to find her long lost brother. It was the only way he could be sure she would be satisfied and stop putting her life in danger. What choice did he have but to help her? But if he didn’t put some distance between them, he could not be responsible for his actions.
He trusted Tristan, but not the man’s father, and if Tristan told the clan’s men to go east, for certain, they would have gone west. But the true question was, did they head north, and would he and Amelia run into them on the road to the MacLeod Keep?
“Are ye sure the Laird didnae catch wind of what ye were searchin’ for, lass?” He tried for a softer tone, wanting to end the fight between them.
“I can’t be certain, but I don’t think so. Does this mean you will help me?” She avoided his gaze. He could hear the hurt in her voice. It caused his chest to constrict. It was a strange feeling to know that he would move the Earth for her if she asked. He could not allow her to go it alone, not any longer. He moved across the room in one quick stride, kneeling in front of her where she sat on the bed and took her hands in his own. Her hands were soft and delicate, but small callouses from hard work were beginning to form on her fingers. He rubbed each with the pad of his thumb. She had no idea what he would do for her. He was afraid for himself and her. When he was around, her feelings of protection and danger came alive inside him. He knew he would easily kill any man who came between them.
“I will protect ye lass with all that I am. Ye canna ken what it felt like tae here ye’d been taken prisoner. I would have burnt every city in Scotland down to find ye, and now that I have I’ll not lose ye again. I will help ye, if for no other reason that tae be sure ye stay safe on this fool mission of yers.” The blue of her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she leaned down and lightly touched his lips with her own. Testing the waters, not knowing the storm that raged beneath the still surface. He wanted her but now was not the time. Yet with each soft press of her lips against his own parts of his resolve began to fade.
“Ah lass, ye canna ken what ye do tae me.”
“Kiss me back Gavin, please let me know you are real, and this is not some delirious dream. Let me know we are here in this place and I am not still in that dungeon. That you are not still in that cell.”
He crushed her to him then, if the lass wanted to feel he was real, he would show her just how real he was. He would not deny her any longer.
He gently bit her bottom lip, begging entry to her mouth for his tongue, which she granted with a light sigh. He tasted her then, diving in with abandon. Licking and teasing her until she matched his eagerness with an eagerness of her own. He leaned into her, pressing her against him. She let out a moan of pleasure, and he gripped the back of her neck, bringing her as close to him as space would allow. Needing to feel the softness of her against himself.
Chapter Seventeen
Gavin pulled Amelia to him. One hand gripped her waist tightly, pressing her body against his own, and the other gripped her neck. The moment his hard, solid chest met the soft curve of her breasts, she let out a moan of pleasure. Only clad in a long shirt, her tight nipples pressed against the fabric between them creating friction that was at once torturous and divine.
He released his hold on her neck. She dropped her head as his hand ran down her shoulder and came to rest at her waist while his other hand ghosted over the hem of her shirt. His kiss moved from her mouth to her neck and across her jawline before he teased the soft lobe of her ear between his teeth, sending a shock of heat through her that pooled in her middle.
“Gav,” his name left unfinished on her lips. She had never felt anything as remotely intoxicating as his kiss and his touch. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do next, only that she wanted him.
“Amelia, we canna go further. Not now, not with —” She captured his mouth again, silencing any words of protest he was about to utter.
She had almost died, and he had found her. She would not give him up to propriety, not this night. She placed her hands over his and helped lift the shirt from her. The cold air hit her body, creating thousands of tiny specks of energy that flared to life with his every touch. She climbed back on the bed, willing him to follow her with just a look.
“Are ye sure, lass?”
“Yes, please, Gavin, I need you.” Amelia had never been surer of anything in her life. Gavin was consuming her body, mind, and soul. She needed more of him. All of him.
“Then, ye are mine,” he growled before slowly moving up the bed to join her. Stopping every few moments to kiss her, first behind her knees, then on the soft, inner skin of her right, then her left thigh. Each contact with his lips sent delicious shivers across her nerves.
“Yer shiverin’. Are ye cold, lass,” he whispered into her leg, just before gliding his tongue higher. Of course, he knew the reason her body shook, and she knew he enjoyed teasing her.
“No,” was all she could manage, her voice weighted with desire. He found the folds of her waiting sex with his mouth and gently teased at her opening. She fought the urge to jump back away from him. She was unaware she could be kissed in such an intimate place. But the desire to flee left her quickly as a white heat took over and now, she couldn’t bear it if he stopped.
All rational thought fled as he found the tight nub at her center. He tested her resolve as he brought his hand up to fondle her as he kissed and licked. Her legs fell open, wide and free, giving him easier access to all of her. Something tight was building inside of her. She couldn’t stop it, nor did she want to. She could not stifle her urge to cry out with each stroke and caress. His hands, his lips, his tongue, all became one as sensation after glorious sensation unfurled inside her.
He lifted his head and caught her eyes with his own. “Come for me, lass, I want to feel you come undone.” He slipped a single finger, then another, inside her, stroking and begging as once again, he dropped his lips to her sex. Everything worked together in unison with one goal in mind. Bringing her to edge of all reason.
“Gavin,” she was breathless as the world around them stopped, and the heat within her uncurled, sending her spiraling into a feeling she could never have imagined. Her breath became ragged, and the end came. She was stripped bare, and her only thought as she hurtled toward the edge was him.
* * *
Gavin watched as Amelia, eyes closed, took three deep, satisfied breaths. The taste of her still lingered on his lips, and he could not be any
more pleased. He knew by her reaction that he was the only man she had ever allowed to take such liberties and knew by his own reaction that he would remain so. There was no way he could allow another man to touch her, taste her, love her. Not after this night. Not ever.
Amelia was splendid. Every inch of her velvet-smooth skin. The ice-blue depths of her eyes. When he gazed at her, his soul split in two. Half remained with him, but the other half was gone — it belonged to Amelia.
She opened her eyes and met his. Blue water met green meadows, and the land between them disappeared. She smiled. He melted.
