“Yes, please.” Carrie looked at her with a mixture of relief and joy. “Thank you.”
Elspeth squinted one eye at Lann Dhearg. Tavish must be incredibly strong to be able to wield such a weapon.
Carrie came to stand beside Elspeth. “It’s very heavy.”
Elspeth looked over at the serving maid. “I don’t suppose you’ll help me carry it upstairs to my chamber?”
“Not to Mr. MacLean’s?”
“No,” Elspeth said with a short laugh. “I don’t think we can do that, not even together.”
Carrie smiled briefly. “I’ll get something to wrap it in.” She disappeared into her chamber for a moment, then returned with a blanket, which she spread on the floor. Together, they moved the sword on top of it, then wrapped the wool around the weapon.
Each taking an end, they hefted Lann Dhearg and rose. “I’ll go first,” Carrie said. “We’ll take the backstairs.”
Carrie led the way, and they made it halfway up before they had to stop and rest. After catching their breath, they continued, taking one more rest at the top before they made it to Elspeth’s chamber.
“We could never have made it up to Mr. MacLean’s chamber!” Carrie exclaimed as they wrestled the sword into Elspeth’s room.
When it was resting on the floor next to the bed, Elspeth wiped her hands on her skirt. Perspiration dappled her brow. “Thank you for helping me,” Elspeth said. “And for trusting Mr. MacLean.”
“I’m glad to be rid of it, especially if the men who hurt Dougal are looking for it.” She pivoted toward the door. “I’d best be getting back to Dougal. And the common room before my father has a fit of apoplexy.”
Elspeth thanked her again and closed the door behind the redhead after she left. Glancing at the bundled-up sword, she strode to the window. Light from the inn spilled into the yard, but there was no sign of Tavish.
Where was he? Elspeth prayed he was safe and that he would be here soon. He would be elated when he learned she had Lann Dhearg.
And then what would happen? Would he escort her and Aunt Leah to Dunkeld and then continue home? Where was his home? She knew it was near Glasgow, but wanted specifics. She wanted to know everything about him.
As she stared out into the black night, she hoped she would have the chance to find out.
Chapter Seven
Kerr’s cottage had been ransacked. Whoever had attacked him had made sure the sword wasn’t hidden in the cottage. Still, Tavish had picked over everything with meticulous care. Then he’d left the same way he’d arrived—stealing through the shadows to avoid detection, in case the men from the order were watching.
The Order of the Round Table. The secret organization that sought to control the Thirteen Treasures of Britain. Although Lann Dhearg wasn’t one of them, it was related to one, and apparently, they felt they should obtain it.
Tavish planned to disabuse them of that idea, should he get the opportunity. He hoped he would. More than that, he wanted to find his damned sword.
He’d been such an utter fool. His grandmother had been distraught when he’d told her what he’d done. But then she’d consoled him and assured him he would find Lann Dhearg and set things right. Her faith in him meant everything. He would not let her down.
After finishing at Kerr’s cottage, Tavish had looked around the surrounding area. He’d been fortunate enough to encounter a couple of people who lived nearby. Neither had seen anything, much to his disappointment.
Now, as he stepped into the inn, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated. However, buried beneath that was an anticipation that had burned within him all night.
Elspeth.
A few tables in the common room were still occupied, and a pair of the dogs came to greet Tavish as he entered. He stroked their heads briefly before striding to the stairs. After taking them two at a time, he found himself in front of Elspeth’s door rather quickly.
He hesitated. What if her aunt was there? Or perhaps Elspeth was in her aunt’s room? There was one way to find out.
Tavish went to the next room and listened. A soft snore reached his ears, followed by a loud one that made him twitch. Smiling, he went back to Elspeth’s room and rapped softly.
He’d barely lowered his hand before the door came open. She pulled him inside so swiftly that he nearly toppled into her. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one eager for their reunion.
Elspeth cupped his face, her green eyes glossy with relief. “You’re safe.”
“You were worried?”
She gave him a look that said she was. “You saw Dougal Kerr, did you not?”
“You saw him too?” It was no wonder she’d been concerned.
“Carrie asked me to check on him while she was busy in the common room. He was still sleeping, but I could see the injury to his face.” A shiver ran through her.
Tavish put his hands on her hips and pulled her to him. “I’m fine. I didn’t encounter any trouble at all.”
She smiled. “I’m so glad.”
While he was thoroughly enjoying this moment with Elspeth, he couldn’t ignore the dark sense of failure needling him. “I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to find any clues regarding these men. Or the sword.”
Her entire face lit like fireworks illuminating the night sky. “I found it.”
He stared at her. “You…found it? I don’t understand.”
She lowered her hands from his face and turned from him. As she moved toward the bed, he grew even more perplexed. Then she knelt next to a blanket on the floor. She unwrapped the wool plaid, and there, lying in the middle of it, was Lann Dhearg.
She gave him a beatific smile. “I’d hand it to you, but I can barely lift it.”
“My God. Elspeth, however did you…” He didn’t finish the question as he quickly lowered to his knees on the other side of the sword from her.
“You will never believe it, but it was here the entire time. Well, not the entire time—not since Culloden. Carrie said Neil left it with her a few weeks ago.”
Tavish ran his fingers over the familiar ancient runic symbols on upper and lower guards of the hilt. The weapon hummed beneath his touch, as it always did for him or others in his family. He looked over at her. “Will you start at the beginning, please?”
“Yes, of course.” She blushed and let out a soft laugh. “I’m afraid I was quite thrilled to find it. I was excited to tell you.”
He wrapped his palm around the grip. “I still can’t believe it.”
“When I went to check on Mr. Kerr, he was asleep, so I thought I would investigate Carrie’s room for clues about Neil.” She shrugged. “I honestly didn’t expect to find anything.”
“Yet you did.”
“There was a door, so I opened it. She has a room filled with items collected from Culloden field. Weapons, jewelry, shields. She calls it her Chamber of Sorrow.”
Tavish let go of the sword and sat back on his heels. “That’s…incredible.”
“It was somewhat unsettling, to tell you the truth. It’s a small room, and it was filled with these objects.”
“That’s where you found Lann Dhearg?” At her nod, he asked, “How did you know what it was?”
“It just looked…different from any sword I’ve ever seen. Because of the herringbone pattern and the markings. Are those runes?”
He glanced down at the markings. “Yes. We aren’t exactly sure what they mean, but the upper guard is something like ‘burn bright’ while the lower is akin to ‘flame eternal.’ And the herringbone pattern is due to the manner in which it was forged.”
Her eyes gleamed with wonder. “That’s fascinating. So this isn’t the Cumbric language?”
That she was aware of the dead language of his ancestors was more than impressive. Tavish leaned over the sword and kissed her. “You are brilliant. I can’t say for certain since there are no surviving texts of the Cumbric language. How do you even know about Cumbric?” He sat back, smiling.
She shrugged. “As
a writer, I’ve sought to learn about Celtic languages. I don’t know if that makes me brilliant, however. I’m just glad to have found your sword. Except for the part when I had to bring it upstairs.” She made a face.
“It would be quite heavy for you. How did you manage it?”
“Carrie helped me, thank goodness. But we agreed that taking it up to your room was beyond our ability.” She laughed, and he laughed with her, amazed at how joyful he felt. It was more than just finding the sword. That was a relief. It was sharing this moment with her, knowing she’d worked to help him, that without her, he might not have found it.
“Thank you for finding my sword,” he said softly.
“Why is it so bloody heavy?”
Tavish easily picked up the weapon, feeling its vibration through his hand and up into his arm.
She gaped at him. “You’re unfathomably strong.”
He chuckled as he got to his feet. “No, it isn’t heavy for me. It’s part of the magic of the sword. Dyrnwyn is the same, but slightly different. Dyrnwyn is heavy for everyone but those who are worthy. Lann Dhearg is heavy for everyone until someone from our bloodline deems them worthy. More simply, I can give it to someone to use, but it’s a very specific act and, once done, can’t be reversed.”
She began to rise, and he quickly offered his hand to aid her. Putting her fingers in his, she said, “So you’d better be sure that person won’t use it for ill purposes.”
He tipped Lann Dhearg down but didn’t let go of her hand. “Exactly. As far as I know, no one in my family has given—or loaned—it to someone else in hundreds of years. But then, it’s been hidden at Dumbarton. Until I was idiot enough to take it with me to Culloden.”
“You weren’t an idiot.” Her voice was gentle, understanding. He almost believed her.
“I thought it would be safe because no one can wield it without my granting them the ability. I didn’t imagine someone would steal it, even if it was difficult to do so.”
“It had to have been incredibly difficult. I had a hard enough time getting it upstairs. And I had help.”
Tavish let go of her hand and went to set Lann Dhearg in the corner. When he returned to his room, he’d reunite it with its scabbard. “Do you know how to use a sword?”
“No. A paring knife is about the extent of my skill with blades.”
Tavish smiled, wondering if she was trying to lighten his mood. “I suppose you could protect yourself with that if you had to.”
She took a deep breath, moving toward the fire as she did so. “What will you do now that you have the sword?”
He should go home immediately and return the sword to its hiding place, where it would remain. “Well, when I was out tonight, it seems the snow melted enough today to allow for travel.”
“Did it?” She sounded as disappointed by that assessment as he felt. “For horses only, or also for vehicles?”
Crossing the room, he joined her in front of the hearth. “Either. I imagine you and your aunt will wish to continue to Dunkeld.”
Elspeth tipped her head back to look up at him. The firelight danced across the arch of her brow and the curve of her cheek. “Yes, I’m sure she will.”
He couldn’t look away from her, not just because of her beauty, but because of the way she looked at him. As if he were more than he was. “But not you?”
“No.” She blinked. “I mean, I do want to return. I also don’t want to leave.”
He half smiled. “Because the inn is so inviting?”
She stepped toward him, closing the gap between them. “It’s nothing to do with the inn, and I think you know that.”
“I wasn’t completely certain, but I am now.” He itched to touch her, to claim her. He flexed his hands against his thighs. “May I accompany you to Dunkeld?”
“Yes.” She wetted her lips with her tongue. Tavish nearly groaned.
“I won’t be able to stay long. I promised my grandmother I’d be home for the new year.”
“You can’t disappoint her,” she whispered with a hint of sadness.
“No.” He lifted his hand to her cheek, then tucked a red-gold lock of hair behind her ear. Grazing his fingers along the outer edge, he felt her tremble. His body reacted, twitching with need for her. “I don’t wish to disappoint you either.”
She pushed her hands up his chest and clutched his coat. “Then I think you’d better kiss me.”
Tavish curled his hand around her head, cupping her as his mouth claimed hers. She pulled at him as her lips and tongue met his in a fierce dance of desire. He put his other hand on the small of her back and pressed so that their hips came together.
His fingers met a pin in her hair, so he pulled it free. Then another and another. Her curls began to tumble over his hand. He continued until there was nothing left but the feel of her silken tresses between his fingers. Pulling back, he gazed down at her. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
She twined her hands around his neck and tugged until their lips met once more. The heat of the fire to his left combined with the scorching need lighting through him. He wanted to peel her clothes away until she was bare before him. Then he would worship her body with his hands and mouth until she quivered with desire. Then he would bring her pleasure until she cried his name and came apart.
Summoning a strength he wasn’t sure he possessed, Tavish broke the kiss. “Elspeth, I should go.”
She didn’t release him. In fact, her grip tightened around his neck. “Don’t. Please. I want you to stay.”
“If I stay…” He stared down at her. “If I stay, I’m going to take you over to that bed.”
An exhalation of relief passed through her kiss-swollen lips. “Good.”
“Should we handfast, then?” he asked.
“What is handfasting but a promise to try to determine if we are suitable for marriage? I promise to expend every effort.”
Tavish couldn’t help but grin. “You are a singular woman, Elspeth. I promise to do the same. Starting right now.” He looked down at her ivory gown with its embroidered stomacher, assessing how to undress her.
Elspeth plucked the pins from her stomacher and took them to the table, where she set them down. Tavish joined her as she removed the stomacher and placed it atop the pins. Then she turned to him. “Better?”
“Slightly,” he said wryly.
She gave him an apologetic smile as she untied the front at her waist. “This is the one dress I own that requires help.”
“Why did you wear it here?”
“Because I wanted to impress you.” The statement was so simple, so honest, he couldn’t think of what to say. So he kissed her instead.
“You look beautiful.”
“Help me take it off,” she whispered.
He lifted the gown over her head and laid it over the back of one of the chairs. She was already untying the quilted petticoat, and a moment later, he swept that from her in the same fashion. After depositing it on the chair, he helped her remove the panniers, grateful they were a rather narrow variety and saying so.
“I am thankful I have no need for the wider kind.” She stopped and stared at him. “You’re a lord. If we are handfasted, will I need wider panniers?”
He laughed softly. “No.”
She smiled in relief as she began to unlace her stays.
Arrested by the sight of her in stays, shift, and stockings—she’d apparently removed her shoes earlier—it took a moment for Tavish to act. He took her hands and gently pushed them aside. Taking over the task of loosening her stays, he pulled at the laces, the sound of them coming free an erotic whisper in the air.
When he was finished, she turned. “You’ll need to loosen the back.” She swept her hair over her shoulder, giving him access.
Distracted by the pale column of her neck, he managed to coax his fingers to work, plucking at the laces until the stays were sufficiently loose. Then he gave in to temptation and pressed his lips to her nape. He kissed along her neck and shoulder,
then down across the blade of her back until he met her spine. She shivered.
Gripping the stays, he pulled them over her head and dropped them to the floor. Her shift was made of a thick linen, likely because it was December. Thus, the fabric wasn’t sheer enough to see through it. No matter since she wasn’t going to wear it much longer. He picked her up, prompting a gasp from her as she put her arms around his neck.
It was a short walk to the bed—too short, for he loved holding her—where he set her on the edge. Intending to finish undressing her, he froze when she shook her head.
“Your turn. You’re wearing too many clothes.” She slid back on the bed and watched him as he undressed.
Tavish couldn’t remember a woman ever looking at him the way she did. He resisted the urge to strip everything away as quickly as possible since she seemed to be enjoying watching him. Instead, he went slowly until he was wearing just his shirt and breeches. “Should I keep going?”
“I think you must.” Her voice had darkened to a sensual rasp.
His body thrumming with desire, Tavish drew the shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. She answered by removing her shift. He held his breath as each inch of her flesh was exposed.
Unable to help himself, he reached for her, his fingers gliding up her thigh and across her hip. Then up along her ribs until he met the swell of her breast. Her rose-hued nipples went taut as he cupped her. He leaned forward and put his mouth on her, taking his time to go slowly as he used his lips and tongue to caress her.
She closed her eyes and cast her head back with a soft moan. He withdrew long enough to remove his breeches, then moved onto the bed. Returning to his task, he suckled her breast once more. She pulled the tie holding his hair back, freeing the mass to graze his shoulders, and ran her fingers through it.
He moved between her legs, skimming his hand down over the smooth slope of her belly until he found the curls at her sex. He stroked her folds, drawing a gasp from her as she arched up from the bed. She clutched at his head, her soft whimpers sharpening his desire.
“Tavish,” she breathed.
He lifted his head and looked down at her. Eyes closed, red-gold hair splayed across the pillow, lips damp and parted, she was exquisite. He teased her clitoris and with each touch of his fingers, she moved with him, her body begging wordlessly for more. He slipped his finger into her, and she clasped his shoulders. Moving between stroking her clitoris and filling her sheath, he coaxed her response until she was coming up from the bed to meet his thrusts. On and on he worked as her cries intensified.
A Very Highland Holiday Page 35
