The Pirate Laird's Hostage (The Highland Warlord Series Book 3)

by Tessa Murran

  ‘You are not a very good liar, are you, Morna?’ he said, bringing his mouth slowly to hers.

  She should have pushed him off, slapped him, walked away, but Morna found she could not. A strange ache twisted her belly as Will’s strong arms came around her. Every sweep of his lips over her own, every flick of his tongue meeting hers, brought a throb of lust to her loins, slippery and hot. Morna grabbed hold of his arms to steady herself, and his ardour deepened, and he pushed her back against the crag. She was pinned helplessly as his mouth plundered hers, but the surrender was a sweet one. When her hands slid up across his shoulders, and further, along his neck, Will’s skin was feverish to the touch. He moaned into her mouth, and she kissed him back hard, their mouths building to a frenzy. Will’s hands pulled her waist tight against his body, which was as unyielding as the rock at her back. That hard body pressed the length of hers, felt so right and so wrong all at once. Aroused beyond measure, Morna dug her fingers into his hair and devoured his mouth with her own.

  Will’s hand slid up her side, cupping her breast and squeezing it gently. ‘God, you are lovely,’ he gasped into her mouth, moving his hot fingers over her chest and up around her throat. He kissed her intensely one more time, pinning her to the rock with his palm and then he pushed back from her.

  Wiping his mouth almost violently with the back of his hand Will said, ‘Enough now for I cannot hold myself if we continue.’ He shook his head and laughed bitterly. ‘By God, you bring on such a wanting in me, and you have a rare talent for kissing. Now I can see why you inspire both lust and treachery, Morna Buchanan. When I put you on that horse years ago, to help you escape, and watched you get swallowed by the darkness, it was so hard not to pull you back off it and take you away with me into the woods. I really wanted to.’

  When he looked into her eyes there was a fire in his own and Morna recognised her power for the first time. It may have led her to a desperate, dangerous place, but it thrilled her soul. Perhaps it was the old pagan gods whispering in her ear, or the enchantment of the Quiraing, so ancient and mystical, but desire rose up in her, such as she had never known. It was fierce and ungodly, for Morna wanted to possess William Bain, devour him, have him fall to his knees and worship her with his body. She wanted to put him in chains so that he could never leave her. A terrible possessiveness clawed at her breast saying, ‘Take him, make him yours, taste him, feel him, own him. Make him a slave of his own desire. He is as hard as you and, no matter what you do, you cannot break him.’

  Will unclenched his fingers from around her throat and shook his head. ‘Come, we are leaving. Best get back to Fitheach, before I do something we both regret, little witch.’

  Chapter Ten

  Days later, Morna watched Will stride along the rocks. How tall and broad he was, and, in his soul, he seemed as deep and dark as the sea. Could a body ever really know him? He greeted Waldrick with a firm clap of his hand on his back as his clansman stepped off the ship. Back from sailing along the coast to send word to her brother, Will had said. The storms had indeed been fierce these last days, but Waldrick had been sent to brave treacherous seas at Will’s command. Thank goodness he had returned safely from his errand seeing as it was on her account. Soon, Cormac would send men, and she would be going home. Why did that thought lie heavy in her heart?

  How formal Will had been since their passionate embrace on the Quiraing. She did not know why. In fact, it hurt her just a little that he seemed to be avoiding her company. Morna put a hand to her breast at the thought of that kiss they had shared. Owen Sutherland, with all his ardour and declarations of love, had never kissed her like that. Its effect still lingered, bringing a rush of blood to her cheeks. Owen had been respectful and careful not to offend. Will’s kiss had been passionate, penetrating and entirely without restraint, which had rendered it unforgettable.

  Chiding herself for falling under the spell of his handsome face, Morna made her way down to the kitchen. She had more latitude around Fitheach since a little trust had built between them and Will had said she could go where she pleased, as long as it was not far from the castle, but she was lonely and craved company.

  When she got to the kitchen, it was warm and yeasty with baking bread.

  ‘I’m bored, Braya,’ she announced to the old woman standing before the table up to her wrists in dough.

  ‘What a boon that must be,’ replied the servant with a withering look.

  ‘Put me to work then.’

  ‘Aye, alright. Give this dough a good kneading.’

  Morna set to work folding the dough over and kneading it with her knuckles. It calmed the restlessness, for a while at least. She was beset with it at all times these days, an excitement, a feeling of teetering on the brink of something, a shyness when Will came by to check on her in his recently rather dutiful way. He had not put a hand on her since their bodies had been pressed up against each other.

  Time slid by as she talked to Braya about nothing in particular, so distracted was she by thoughts of Will. There were things she needed to know.

  ‘Tell me, Braya. What was Will like when he first came here?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I hear such different accounts of Will, and I seek to puzzle him out.’

  ‘A fool’s errand, if ever there was one. With Will Bain, you take him as you find him or not at all. He is his own man and his own law, but if you must know, and it would shame him to admit it, he came to Fitheach in a parlous state of degradation. Desperate he was, alone and poor. No lass would look twice at him for that lad was treated worse than the pigs and dogs, and by God, he smelt like them too.’

  Morna bit her lip. ‘Is it true the Laird’s wife was his lover?’ she said as casually as she could.

  ‘Aye, what of it?’ said Braya narrowing her eyes.

  ‘Were they very much in love?’ said Morna.

  ‘Love! Hah, Edana Bain had no more love in her heart than a serpent. Nay, lass, all she had was spite and greed.’ Braya spat on the floor. ‘As to loving her, Will was no fool, even back then. He saw her for what she was.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘A sucking leech of a woman, through and through, with a heart full of malice. The bitch came to Fitheach with her father, and a worthless wretch he was, impoverished, barely a lord, with nought but a bit of barren land up north and a child born out of wedlock to a peasant woman, to recommend him. He wanted to snare Edana a husband, for she was a tempting little morsel, and one look and she set her sights on Fearchar Bain, didn’t she. Why, his wife’s dead bones had not had time to stiffen before she was throwing herself at him. Fearchar was a far better catch than she could have hoped for.’

  ‘And did Fearchar love her?’

  ‘Bah, he was a coarse brute with little in the way of looks and no time for women aside from salving his raging lust on them. And of course, Edana was very beautiful and turned a few heads here I can tell you. There were none to compare to her.’

  Morna beat the dough hard with her knuckle.

  ‘So they wed,’ continued Braya, ‘and more fool them for it was all for show and for lust.’

  Heat flooded Morna’s face.

  ‘And the woman, Edana? Did she fall in love with Will?’ Bang went the dough again.

  ‘She wouldn’t give him the time of day until the fever came and carried off Fearchar’s eldest son and heir, leaving only Drostan to inherit. You’ve seen the state of him - a weakling if ever there was one. Will took his chance and climbed to the top of Clan Bain and then she saw him. Who could not? He is a fine figure of a man, and when he got power at Fitheach, he became even more pleasing. Lasses are like ants to a honey pot with Will Bain. A sticky trap it is too. Mind you don’t fall victim to it, lass.’

  ‘If you are you trying to protect me from Will, you’ve no need to,’ said Morna sinking her knuckles violently into the dough, until she hit the table beneath.

  ‘I am trying to protect you from yourself, Morna Buchanan.’
r />   ‘I’ll be gone soon, so no need, Braya, but I thank you for your kindness in looking out for me.’

  ‘Aye,’ she said, looking away, ‘mayhap you’ll be gone soon, aye.’

  ‘Braya, I think I will walk down to the beach for some air,’ said Morna.

  ‘Aye, air must be what you need for you’ve beaten all the fight out of my dough. Will you be alright going through the cave? I can come with you if you fear the darkness still.’

  ‘I will go the long way around the cliffs and stay in view of the men on the wall, don’t fash.’

  Wiping her floury hands down her dress, Morna sped out of the kitchen, feeling the old woman’s eyes boring into her back. She must find Will so that she could understand why he was giving her the cold shoulder. Yes, that would be good and make her feel better, for she was a swirl of emotions today and none of them good.

  ***

  Will had almost finished supervising the unloading of the ship when he saw Morna pick her way across the rocks towards him. He gestured at her to stop, lest a wave knock her into the water, and weaved his way towards shore around sacks of grain and barrels of ale. Waldrick had threatened a small merchant vessel plying its way up the coast, slim pickings and not worth violence to get what he wanted. Intimidation had succeeded, with the men on board handing over a large share of their cargo in return for safe passage north.

  ‘What are you doing out here in the wind,’ he shouted at Morna, over the crash and pound of the surf breaking all around them.

  ‘I needed some air and was minded to take a walk along the beach,’ she replied through chattering teeth, clutching her mantle about her as it billowed and flapped in the wind. The brown fur around the collar complimented the warm chestnut of her eyes, and Will struggled not to take hold of her and taste her lips, blue with cold. He could think of a thousand ways to warm her up and none of them decent.

  ‘Come, let us get out of the sea spray, ‘tis more sheltered further along.’

  When they got back to the beach there was only silence between them, aside from the crunch of their steps on the shingle. Dark clouds were scudding in from the east, whipping wisps of hair across Morna’s face.

  ‘We should not go too far, those rain clouds look ominous,’ he said lightly.

  Morna grabbed his arm and turned him to look at her.

  ‘Will, must we talk like polite strangers? What is wrong? Why are you avoiding me?’

  ‘I like it when you call me Will,’ he said frowning. Strange how good it sounded to his ears.

  ‘Aye, but you avoided my question as you have been avoiding me.’

  ‘T’is not avoidance. I see it more as resisting temptation for I think I have made it plain that I want you.’ He looked out to sea over her head, for words seemed to stick in his throat all of a sudden. ‘You stir something in me, Morna. I don’t know if it is lust, or pity or protectiveness or the fact that I saved your life and I think of you as belonging to me now. Whatever it is, until I am sure you want me in return, I’ll not behave like some loathsome lecher, chasing you around Fitheach.’

  ‘I am in no danger of being seduced by you, Will.’

  ‘Then what would you have me do, humiliate myself pursuing you. Stand before the flames so that I can get burnt?’

  ‘I should not have kissed you like that the other day. It was wrong of me to let you think that…’

  ‘And what is right, Morna, living your life at the behest of God and the law and the King and your brothers. Why not be sinful and dangerous for once? Grab hold of what you want. There’s no shame in passion, only pleasure, in wanting to take and be taken. A life lived by another’s rules and against one’s own nature is a withered runt of an existence. I sense you want to be free.’

  Morna looked up at him, wide-eyed and confused, suddenly she was so much softer than she liked to appear. For a moment, Will thought he could actually care for a woman, such was the tenderness flooding his breast.

  ‘Will…I…I don’t know what to do and what to feel,’ she said, looking down at the ground, her face going scarlet, and then, to his utter surprise and dismay, took hold of his mutilated hand and brought it to her lips and kissed it. ‘I am sorry for this,’ she whispered, ‘does it pain you?’

  ‘Aye, sometimes when the cold is bad, my hand aches. Other times I feel as though my fingers are still there.’

  She bit her lip, small white teeth digging into soft pink flesh. Tears filled her big, brown eyes. ‘That must be awful. Oh Will, the truth of it is, I have long dreamed about getting away from Beharra and, now I have, it is all danger and confusion. I don’t like this twisting in my heart, for it thrills and frightens me all at once.’ She looked down the beach with such sadness on her face that Will could do nothing but take her into his arms and hold her close. Morna let him, and he stood stroking her hair for the longest time as the rain clouds scudded in, swallowing the light in the sky.

  The mask had slipped. Morna suddenly seemed young and vulnerable. Will almost pitied her and then he thought, ‘this is how she holds a man, this peek at softness, so rare, so often hidden. A man can want her in his bed, but it is only when he sees the gentle woman inside that he is caught, and cannot get free.’

  A rumble of thunder sounded overhead, and a few fat drops of rain plopped onto the beach.

  Will gently pulled Morna back from him and stared into her eyes for the longest time.

  ‘What is it you want, Morna Buchanan?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then let me help you decide.’

  Will put his hands to her face, wet with tears, and he kissed her, slowly, gently, tenderly, as his heart twisted in his chest. The rain picked up, and the wind buffeted them in strong gusts whipping up Morna’s dark hair around them, but it was as if it were a perfect sunny day with a blue sky above. Nothing else existed for Will at that moment, save the two of them and the tentative trust budding between them.

  Will pulled back and looked up at the black clouds smothering the castle in the distance. Wordlessly, he took hold of Morna’s small hand in his and led her back to Fitheach’s dark walls. By the time they approached the shelter of the cave mouth, the rain had intensified, and they ran inside, laughing. Will glanced up and thought he saw a lone figure on the walls, watching, but it was gone at once, smothered in the rain and mist.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morna rushed to her bedroom, all breathless excitement, and sat before the hearth, squeezing rainwater out of her hair and fanning it out to dry before the fire. That kiss! Oh, it was wonderful, as if a thousand little butterflies had been loosed in her stomach. She was so weak with longing that an ache rose in her chest when she thought of Will.

  There was so much expression in those deep ocean eyes of his, they held you, they seduced and delighted you, they made you feel as though, for Will, no other woman existed in the world. Could she trust in them, for they could also look so savage when he frowned, his dark brows making that face seem fierce even when at rest? Those eyes may be irresistible, but they also gave her pause, for they belonged to a man who was dangerous to his core, reckless, covetous and fiercely intelligent. Perhaps the kindness in them was a lie.

  One thing she was sure of, Will liked to win, at everything, be it warring or women. Oh, but when he smiled, it raised little lines at the corner of those eyes, and dimples in his cheeks and Morna saw in that smile a shadow of what he must have been before fate and misfortune had twisted him. There was insolence about his smile that warmed her heart and brought a rush of feeling for him. If she let it take hold, it would be the end of her. She so wished she had the time to make sense of him.

  The creak of the door made her jump, and she glared at Drostan as he entered. She wanted to be alone with delicious thoughts of Will, not suffer his cousin’s complaining.

  ‘Do I disturb you, Morna?’

  ‘Aye, a little Drostan. You should not turn up unannounced, you startled me.’

  ‘Forgive me, I felt the need to speak to
you.’

  ‘Your cousin will be angry if you are here with me alone. You should go.’

  ‘I don’t care what Will thinks, and I must say my piece before it is too late.’

  ‘I bid you go, Drostan, for I am tired and wet through. I must get out of these wet clothes.’

  ‘Aye, I saw how you got wet – on the beach, in my cousin’s arms.’

  ‘That is not your business, Drostan. Careful what you say to me.’

  ‘What I am about to say to you, Morna, you really need to hear.’

  ‘Alright then,’ she sighed. ‘What troubles you?’

  ‘You like him, don’t you, my cousin? He has wheedled his way into your trust. Is he also in your heart?’

  ‘You may leave now,’ she replied, her anger rising at his probing.

  ‘Don’t trust him, Morna, for he will use you ill. I told you how he became Laird here, what he did to my father.’

  ‘Will explained that to me, it was a matter of life and death.’

  ‘It was a matter of lust and power, that is the truth of it. Will cares only for himself and his own interest.’

  Morna took a step back. ‘Will saved my life. He has protected me since I got here. He would never hurt me.’

  ‘Oh, Will has no urge to hurt you, quite the opposite, unless you resist him for too long and he gets tired of the chase. No, he has dark desires which drive him, and you are presently the object of them. You are his prize, his plaything until he gets bored. So he is with all women who fall under his power. He will take you into his confidence, draw you close and then pounce. You are a chicken to his fox. His ardour is just a game to bring you to heel. Do not be a fool over him, Morna, as your friend, trust me on this, please. Will always has a plan, in his favour and his alone.’

  ‘No, I do not believe you. Drostan, you have cause to hate him, you resent his taking your place as Laird, and I understand how that must grate on your pride, but he is doing right by me.’