“Yes, you are, and you have a responsibility to see to it that your brother grows up just as strong and brave as you.” Hoping that she’d gotten through to him, she released her hold just as a shadow, cast by the fires burning around them, crossed over him.
“Well, well, well. Didnae expect to see a bonnie lass here,” a gravelly voice wheezed.
Horror filled her, and the world slowed as she turned. Gemma saw the flash of the sword in the firelight just before it swung down on David. Grabbing him, she pushed him to the ground and covered his body with hers, barely managing to deflect the sword with an awkward swing of her own.
“Gemma!” Theo’s panicked voice bellowed, but it was too far away. He would never get there in time.
Gritting her teeth, she struggled to stand again, to lift the sword. She had absolutely no training with a weapon and would no doubt survive the encounter, but if she could just buy young David a little more time, he might get away.
Briefly, she thought of all the things she would never be able to do. She and Theo could have had a life if they were both given a chance to overcome their fears. He might have been Loch Moran’s savior, but what would he become if he didn’t have someone to anchor him to reality? He’d just be a shadow of fear formed by his father.
She could not let that happen.
Gritting her teeth, she found the strength to raise the sword, but before the man could attack again, he let out a guttural moan and fell to his knees, a sword buried in his back.
“Only cowards attack women and children,” Graeme sneered as he pulled the sword out. “Lady Gemma, are ye all right?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Swallowing hard, she looked at the sword. Her hand shook so badly that she wasn’t sure how she was still holding on to it, but she knew that she couldn’t rest. David, still on the field, stared at them in fear, and Gemma forced herself to meet Graeme’s gaze.
If there was one person here who might be responsible for mercenaries taking over Loch Moran, it would be a MacSeaver, but he had just saved her life.
“Take the boy and go back to the village. They wilnae get that far. I promise ye,” Graeme said, a darkness veiling his face as he seemed to realize what she’d been thinking.
“Theo.” She searched desperately in the thick of the fighting.
“Yer husband is a survivor, Lady Gemma. I doonae think that is going to stop now. Come, I will look after ye ’til ye get to safety.”
Poor David was frightened into silence. He was not so small that she could gather him into her arms, like she could Cameron, but Graeme quickly saw the problem and hoisted him over his shoulder.
With one last glance over her shoulder, she searched for Theo, but there was too much smoke. Had she only imagined his shout?
Hoping she would see him again, she turned and followed Graeme to safety.
13
Encouraged by the sight of Gemma beneath the enemy’s sword, Theo fought harder than ever, and the battle was over before midnight. There were nearly fifty dead mercenaries, defeated by a regime half their size. When he looked over the field of corpses, he was pleased to see that he’d lost none.
There was possibly one enemy who had survived. Looking over the field, Theo caught Graeme’s gaze. The man had saved Gemma’s life and fought alongside the MacDougals, slaying as many mercenaries as his men.
Slowly, Graeme walked toward him, and Theo tightened his grip on his sword. “Ye are injured,” Graeme observed. If he had wanted his shot at Theo, now would be an excellent time as the laird was wounded and tired.
Blood was still running down Theo’s shoulder, but Graeme was limping. In fact, most of his men were injured. If he decided to raise his sword, it would at least be a fair fight.
“As are ye. I owe ye a debt for saving Gemma’s life,” he said carefully as the two continued to gauge each other. His body still trembled at how he’d nearly lost his wife. At first, he couldn’t believe that she was there on the battlefield, but then he saw little David.
For a horrifying second, he knew he would not get there in time to save her.
“Someday, I will collect,” Graeme grinned, and sheathed his sword. After a moment of hesitation, Theo followed suit. If Graeme had wanted him dead, he could have done it before the smoke had cleared.
There was movement just past Graeme’s shoulder, and Theo watched as the villagers arrived. They began to systematically put out the fires and drag the dead to the pile. With an ache in his chest, he realized they were used to doing this—cleaning up after a battle.
“Laird, we have set up a cottage to tend to the wounded in the village. We can take care of this,” Agnes said as she looked at his shoulder in concern.
His wound was the least of his concerns at the moment. Unknowns had invaded his land. The thought of an enemy hiding behind mercenaries made his blood boil.
“I want to search the bodies. They wear no colors, so I need to know who hired them. If there are any survivors, save them.”
He would get answers at any cost.
After an exhausting couple of hours, there were only a handful of survivors, and they didn’t live long enough to talk. Systematically, he and Thomas searched the dead, but these were well-trained mercenaries, loyal to whoever had paid them. There was no trace. Tomorrow, Theo would sent out messages to the neighboring clans to try and track their path.
By the time he’d reached the cottage designated for the wounded, the sun was coming up, and the place was nearly empty. Three women, including Jillian and Gemma, were cleaning up. At the sound of his boots hitting the floor, Gemma’s head jerked up, and relief flooded her face.
“So, you are still alive then,” she said curtly.
She was angry with him. At the moment, he didn’t care. She’d run full force into a battle with no weapon and no thought to her own safety. The fact that she was alive to be angry was a wonder.
“Aye. Lasses, go home and get some rest.”
They looked at Gemma, and it should have angered him to see them looking to her for orders, but it gave him some pride to know that he had married a woman with enough strength and character to be a leader. She nodded, and they left with a few murmurs of thanks to him for protecting them.
“There is blood on your shirt. Is it yours?” Gemma asked.
“Some.” Sitting in the chair by her, he slowly eased off his shirt. The blood had dried, so the fabric clung to the wound. When he ripped it off, Gemma winced, but he did not react to the pain. He’d learned long ago to deal with pain.
“Easy. There is no reason to restart the bleeding.” With a wet cloth, she started cleaning the wound, gently removing the dried blood. Stilling, he closed his eyes at her ministrations. When was the last time someone had taken the time to take care of him?
“Do you know who attacked us?”
“Nay. They are mercenaries, loyal only until the money runs out. ‘Tis a clever tactic for the dishonorable, but I will find them.”
“Any of your men killed?”
“Nay. They have trained for this. I have scouts in the lands beyond the border for this very reason. So we werenae caught unawares.” He turned his head to study her. Her face was pale, and her eyes filled with exhaustion. “If I ever catch ye on the battlefield again, for any reason, ye will see the extent of my temper, Wife.”
“Then I suppose I will just have to see your temper because I cannot promise that it won’t happen again.” Nonplussed, she started dabbing again, but he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into his lap.
“I couldnae get to ye in time,” he rasped. “Do ye have any idea what it was like for me to nearly see ye die?”
“Probably about the same as it was for me to stand here, treating warrior after warrior and wondering if you were still alive,” she said as she settled her hands on his chest.
As usual, his erection stirred, and he couldn’t help but lean over her and breathe in her scent. He still reeked of smoke and sweat and blood, but she was so soft and feminine. �
��Let me hold ye, lass,” he murmured as he circled his arms around her. “And kiss ye so I know that ye are alive.”
“I am right here, Theo. Do as you wish.”
Lowering his head, he captured her sweet mouth, but this was not a gentle kiss. No, there was still so much fear in him as he replayed the image over and over in his head, a sword raised above her, and the panic in her eyes as she tried to defend herself and the wee one under her arm. The kiss was urgent, and the hunger swept through him like a storm.
Gemma didn’t shy away. She met his kiss the best she could, still inexperienced but clearly feeling the same need. They clung to each other as his tongue stroked against hers, and he was so lost in the need that he hadn’t even realized that he was pulling up her skirts until his fingers were skimming her legs.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly as she pulled. “Someone could come in any minute. Let me finish looking at your wound, and then we can go home.”
Home. The word lifted his spirits. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers.
Tomorrow, she would be singing a different tune when he told her that it was too dangerous here and that it was time to go home.
To the MacDougal keep.
Gemma made him breakfast, but they were near dead on their feet. No one expected anyone to be productive, so the village was quiet for most of the day. They slept for a few hours and rose around midafternoon. Gemma checked in with the other residents and did some weaving to soothe herself while Theo left to scour the fields for evidence of the villains who had invaded them.
He returned just after dark, his face drawn in anger. There was a community dinner for everyone to get together and reassure themselves that it would be all right. Theo answered any questions that he could and was patient with everyone, but this wasn’t the first time they had been through an attack, and they all knew it would not be the last.
No, they were resigned—jaded, even—and Gemma hated that. She wanted to lift their spirits again, to see them smile as they had at her wedding.
Perhaps she would plan a festivity for tomorrow night. Some music and dancing and laughing. It was just what the villagers needed after yesterday.
The crowd broke up quickly, many of them still tired, and Theo kept his hand on Gemma’s back and guided her to the cottage. This morning, they’d been far too tired to explore more of that kiss they’d shared, but from the way Theo had been looking at her, she had a feeling that more was coming her way tonight.
She was ready for it. The intimacy was overwhelming, but she needed to feel Theo, to remind herself that her husband was still alive.
The door was barely closed before he gathered her into his arms and kissed her with the same hunger as earlier. She all but melted into him, her arms twining around his neck as she lifted herself to her toes to increase the pressure.
“Gemma,” he murmured as he swept her up and carried her to the bed. “Tonight, let me make ye mine. Love me.”
She was already his. Didn’t he know that?
His beautiful eyes darkened, and he laid her down, stomach first. Confused, she nearly turned over, but his hands were at the buttons of her dress. There was something so erotic about being undressed like this, so she closed her eyes and squeezed her thighs together as she grew wet from the heat of his hands.
Then, he slid her skirts up past her knees and grabbed her arms. Like a rag doll, she let him pull her up to her knees. The bed settled as he kneeled behind her and peeled the dress off her body and up above her head.
Her shift followed, and he groaned when he realized that she was naked underneath. She’d gone to sleep wanting his touch and dressed with this moment in mind.
“Ye are so beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his hands over her abdomen and up to her breasts where he cupped and strummed his fingers over her nipples. Whimpering, she leaned back into him and closed her eyes while pleasure softly cascaded through her.
“Ye like this, aye?”
“Oh, aye,” she breathed, smiling as she tried to mimic his heavy Scottish brogue. Theo chuckled and moved his hands south to her naked thighs and then in between to her curls.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she clenched her fist in the blanket as his fingers stroked around her and then eased into her. Automatically, she clenched her muscles, and he groaned. “Oh, lass, if ye do that when I am in ye, I wilnae last long.”
“I...” she struggled to find the words. “How long am I going to have to wait to feel you?”
Suddenly, she was in the air as he all but tossed her up. Her body twisted as he skillfully maneuvered her, and she bounced back on the bed, staring up at him.
“Not long,” he promised as he leaned over her and settled his lips on hers.
Once again, the kiss was hungry, a raw reminder of the desire between them, and then he was gone. Opening her eyes, Gemma watched as he stood by the bed, staring at her, while he slowly started removing his clothes.
She’d seen him naked before, but wanted nothing to hinder her view as she stared at him, transfixed. He radiated power and sensuality, and she drank him in like a woman starving.
Naked as the day he was born, he stood over her and ran a hand through his hair. “Like what ye see, Wife?”
“Very much,” she whispered. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she decided to take advantage of his stillness and kneeled on the edge of the bed, and reached out to touch him.
So scarred. Her heart ached for the boy who had endured the torment that had come from the hands of the man who should have loved him the most. Theo flinched, just a little, as she ran her finger down the most prominent scar on his chest.
“Doonae feel pity for me, Wife,” he murmured.
“These marks are terrible, but they have made you the man that you are today, and I think I quite like that man.” His mouth descended on hers, rough and heavy, and she lost all control of the situation. Instantly, she was on her back, and his weight was bearing down on her.
This was it. The moment she’d wondered about not long after having laid eyes on him. What it might feel like to have a man like this inside of her.
“Gemma,” he murmured as he kissed her neck, “this may hurt in the beginning, and I am sorry for it.”
“I know,” she breathed as she widened her legs and wrapped her arms around him. “I am not afraid.”
“Nay. Ye are frightened of nothing.” Nudging at her entrance, he whispered her name one more time and eased into her. There was an uncomfortable sensation of fullness, and she screwed her eyes shut. Then, with a hiss, he pushed, breached into her depths, and groaned even as she gasped.
“Theo!”
“Aye, lass. I know. Just be still,” he said huskily.
Be still? She tried to do as he asked, but with every wiggle of her body, delicious sparks of pleasure sprouted through her, and she couldn’t help but try to explore those sensations.
“Gemma,” he growled. “What are ye doing?”
“I need to feel you. Please.” The plea was all but ripped from her throat as she moved her hips again, and Theo hissed and moved, withdrawing and plunging back into her.
“Oh, yes!”
“I wanted to go easy, but I doonae think I can. Oh, Gemma, ye were made for me, lass.”
In that, she most certainly had to agree. Running her hands up and down his back, she dug her nails in as the pleasure intensified. Now that she knew what was happening to her body, she was not afraid, but the intimacy was still there, the two of them sharing this moment that no one could take from them.
Bowing her back, she felt the break in the storm inside her as he cascaded down, wreaking her body from her head to the tips of her toes. “Aye, Gemma, give me yer pleasure,” Theo hissed as he pounded her through her pleasure, a manic look in his eyes.
And when she thought it was over, another hit her—a slow quake—and this time, Theo rode with her, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe. Then, when the tears filled her eyes, she shut them so he
couldn’t see just how he affected her.
He rolled over and carried her to his side so he wouldn’t crush her. They laid like that, locked in each other’s arms, letting the silence lull them to sleep.
14
The next morning, Theo did an early walk-through of the village, stopping at the loch to stare at the water and see what Graeme could see. When someone walked up next to him, he realized that it wasn’t the loch that had captivated Graeme but the memories.
Memories Theo didn’t have.
“Ye are leaving,” Harris grunted.
“Not me.”
The older man’s eyes widened and then narrowed in anger. “Ye are taking our Gemma from us.”
“As my wife. She wasnae long for the loch,” Theo reminded him.
“Aye, but I didnae think ye would send her home alone, at the mercy of the rest of the MacDougals.”
Theo looked down at him and studied him coldly. “Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you forged the letter from MacSeaver in the hopes that she would go running into my arms for help.”
With a sigh, Harris leaned against his cane and turned to take in the same view as Theo. “We have never known peace. As a lad, I was raised to be a farmer but trained as a warrior. Poorly trained, and that is why there arenae many of us left. Fletcher’s father was a horrid man, but he protected his profits. And when Fletcher was younger, we had hope that he would be a better laird, and he was for a time. Then he lost his first wife, and I doonae think he has ever been the same.”
“That is supposed to excuse what ye did to Gemma?”
“Not to her. For her. When she arrived, this poor shell-shocked lady from England, we were all certain that we would starve to death. MacSeaver was taking all of our food, and his men had taken to raiding our homes to find what we had tried to squirrel away for ourselves. She saved us. Her tapestries saved us. She paid off the merchants not to say a word and paid a pittance to MacSeaver while using the rest of the coin to feed and clothe us. We were able to build an underground storeroom to hide the food that she purchased, and the guards were never the wiser.
Highlander’s Lesser Evil: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Highlands' Deceptive Lovers Book 4) Page 9
