Authors: Hannah Howell
“Aye, I was,” he said, smiling faintly, “but I am nay surprised by his hesitation. It may not look a proper family to others, but to Callum, this is his family, here with ye and the other children. The moment Bryan told me what the boy had endured, and e’en he didnae ken it all, I understood that there may be a problem or two.”
“There are two things that are important to Callum. He needs to feel safe and he needs to ken that he is accepted, that what happened to him hasnae left him unacceptable, e’en unclean.”
“He will soon come to understand that none who matter amongst the family would e’er fault him for what happened to him, just as most reasonable men wouldnae fault or turn from a woman who was sorely abused against her will. In truth, ’tis nay what others might think or believe which matters, but what Callum comes to believe about himself.”
Payton nodded. “Exactly. We have been working on that. He needs to gain pride in what he can do, pride in who he is. I think, as he comes to ken the MacMillans, starts to accept and believe he truly is one, that will help. ’Tis nay just what that bastard did to the boy, but what his mother’s family did, what this whole town did, that has left the boy with the feeling of being unwanted, undeserving. Ye can hear it occasionally in certain things he says. I believe his mother loved him dearly, for he seems to be able to accept the validity of a motherly sort of affection.”
Sir Bryan nodded, then sighed. “’Tis astonishing that he can accept any affection at all. I always thought a very young child had the blessing of forgetfulness, yet, sadly, Callum recalls verra clearly what happened when his mother was dying, though he was verra young. And, hearing how he was forced to live upon the streets at such a tender age.” He shook his head. “The most difficult part of that was the realization that I rarely heed the plight of the wee ones who appear so ragged and uncared for. I live here, yet not once can I recall seeing that boy. For all I ken, he was one I tossed a coin to at some time.”
“Weel, since ye are feeling so guilty, and, as ye say, ye live here, there is this place which calls itself a home for foundlings and orphans—”
As Payton began to stir his cousin’s outrage over the plight of the children in the Darrochs’ care, Kirstie quietly excused herself. She was just stepping into the hall when Sir Euan joined her and quietly shut the door behind them. The man looked so serious,
Kirstie began to feel a little nervous. In her experience, such a solemn look upon a man’s face often meant he was about to give her bad news or say something he knew she would not like.
“I wished a private word with ye about Callum,” he said.
“He is a good lad,” she said.
“A verra good lad. Far better than I had hoped for. Innes would be proud.”
“And exactly what is your part in all of this? Ye are verra involved in it all. Are ye close kin to him?”
“Just a cousin, but Innes and I were as close as brothers. He was the truest of friends and I still miss him. Despite his wounds, his hard life, and all else that is so verra different from Innes and his life, I can see a great deal of my friend in the boy.” He smiled faintly. “’Twill be an honor to help Sir Gavin in the raising of him. The mon will love the boy, m’lady. Ye need ne’er worry on that. And nay as some ghost of his lost son, but as the boy he is. Of course, he is also the continuation of that small branch of the MacMillan clan.”
Kirstie smiled and nodded. “A heritage can only help Callum gain that pride that ne’er should have been stolen from him.”
“Aye. And I do realize all that has happened to the lad cannae be ignored or forgotten for it has shaped him, and will probably continue to do so. What I wished was a few moments of your time so that ye could tell me about the boy. I think it would help if I learned as much as possible, for it would be too easy to step wrongly, to cause an unintentional hurt, or misjudge something he says or does.”
“A verra good idea.” She linked her arm with his. “Come to the gardens with me. There is a pleasant spot there. ’Tis private, and, e’en better, ’tis near impossible for anyone to creep up and listen unseen.”
Payton frowned as he approached the couple sitting so close together on the stone bench. He had heard their laughter as he had approached, could now see their ease with each other. They looked very good together. So good that Payton felt an overwhelming urge to pound Sir Euan MacMillan into the mud until he was not quite so cursed handsome any longer.
Jealousy, he thought, and was so startled he stopped too abruptly and nearly stumbled. He was jealous, blindingly so. He did not like seeing Kirstie so close to or so at ease with another man. She was his. Payton did not think there had ever been a time in his life when he had felt such a primal, fierce possessiveness over a woman. He had rarely practiced fidelity except out of convenience, and had never expected it of the women he had bedded. Yet, the mere thought of another man touching Kirstie had him clenching his hand on the hilt of his sword.
He took several slow, deep breaths to subdue this new and fascinating emotion. Neither Kirstie nor Euan was doing anything to warrant it and he did not wish to insult either of them. Payton slowly started toward them again. He would, however, make it as clear as possible to Sir Euan that this lass was taken.
Kirstie smiled at Payton as he stepped up to her. She blushed a little when he idly stroked her braid, but was beginning to become accustomed to the way he seemed inclined to touch her all the time, even when they were not private. The brief look of knowing amusement that crossed Sir Euan’s face troubled her a little. It was evident that
Payton’s actions told the man they were lovers. She quickly shrugged off that embarrassment when the man smiled at her with the same easy and open friendliness he had before. Kirstie did wonder why it felt as if Payton had just clenched his hand tightly over her braid, but the feeling passed so quickly, she decided to ignore it.
“I thank ye for telling me so much about Callum,” said Sir Euan as he lifted her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed the back of it. “I will be sure to tell Sir Gavin all ye have told me ere he meets the boy.”
“We decided it would probably be best if Sir Gavin came here to meet Callum,” Kirstie said, frowning a little when Payton took her hand in his and idly rubbed his thumb over the place Sir Euan had kissed. That that action seemed to cause Sir Euan a great deal of silent amusement stirred her curiosity, but she forced it aside, for Callum’s needs were far more important. “I was hoping that would be acceptable to ye, Payton.”
“Aye,” replied Payton, “for I can see how it would help the lad. He will be more at ease here. Better that than to take him to a strange place to meet a mon who, sadly, is nay more than a stranger to him.” Payton fixed his gaze upon Euan, only mildly annoyed by the man’s amusement, for it revealed that he had read and understood Payton’s silent message, that silent but forceful declaration of ownership well known amongst men. “I suppose ye will come with the man.”
“Oh, aye,” replied Sir Euan as he stood up. “I assume Bryan is prepared to leave.”
“He is, although Uven was reluctant.”
Euan smiled. “Good. Then Callum has already accepted one MacMillan as kin, and been accepted. ’Tis a start.” He bowed to Kirstie, “M’lady,” then winked at Payton. “And may I say that, for a mon I suspect has ne’er done so nor felt inclined to, ye did that verra weel. I had nay trouble understanding. A shame ye would choose to do it in this particular instance, but that, too, I fully understand. Good day.”
“What was that all about?” asked Kirstie as she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and into Payton’s arms.
“He was complimenting me on my sense of responsibility,” Payton answered and kissed her. “Wine?”
Brief though the kiss was, Kirstie was feeling somewhat heated. “Aye. Alice sent some out to us, kenning that we might have a lot to talk about. And, ’tis warm.” Kirstie suspected she had had a little more than she should have because she was thinking some very scandalous things as she nuzzled Payton’s throat. “Did ye just come to fetch Sir Euan?”
He slid his hands down over her backside and pressed her close. “Aye and nay. I was thinking about honey. Warm, sweet honey,” he added in a soft voice as he kissed her ear.
Kirstie was now certain that she had had too much wine, for the flush upon her cheeks had little to do with shyness or embarrassment. Payton’s words stirred a fire within her, a sudden aching need that demanded attention. That need seemed to free her as much as it startled her. She wanted to blame the wine for that, too, but finally confessed to herself that it was more, so much more. For some reason, her love for him was flowing strong in her veins at the moment, filling her heart and feeding the need his heated words had stirred within her. Suddenly, she decided to let her heart lead her. Their time together was swiftly coming to an end and, perhaps, she was more willing now to throw all caution to the wind.
She wriggled out of his arms and smiled at him. “Honey? Ah, then, ye must follow me.”
Payton watched her skip away, the smile she sent him one of the most sweetly lecherous come-hither smiles he had ever had the privilege of seeing. There was an air of delight about her, the air of a carefree maid. For some reason, Kirstie was feeling unrestrained, untroubled by thoughts of sin and propriety, of the needs of the children or the threat of Roderick.
“So, why are ye standing here puzzling o’er this mood of hers and nay hurrying after her to enjoy it until it fades, ye great idiot?” he murmured, then hurried after her.
Payton stopped abruptly to look around him. Kirstie had led him to a magical corner of his own gardens. It embarrassed him a little that he had not known about it. His only excuses were that his gardens were large and he was a busy man. He often sat on the bench where she and Sir Euan had been talking, enjoying the solitary peace, the scent of the flowers, and the sound of the birds. It was a good place to find some calm, to think, and he simply had not bothered to go any further.
As he studied the small enclave of trees and honey-suckle, a part of him was sorry he had lacked the interest to study his own gardens more extensively. Another part of him was pleased that the first time he saw it, it was with Kirstie. Now there would always be a special touch of magic to the place. Especially, he mused as he leaned against the thick trunk of one of the trees in the circle, if Kirstie was still in her playful mood. He smiled as she walked over to him, the look in her stormy grey eyes stirring the heat in his blood in a way no other woman ever had.
“’Tis lovely, aye?” She looked up at the canopy of leaves and branches over her head. “’Tis as if some fairy or wood nymph made herself a home here. I found it shortly after I came to your home. Ye must love it here.”
“Aye, but I am ashamed to admit that this is the first time I have seen it,” he said.
“Truly? Dinnae ye like gardens? This one is so large, I rather assumed ye had had some hand in the making of it.”
“I hired the lads who tend it. Nay, I found the bench amongst the roses and went no further. Ere the Murrays gained this house, this garden was planted, and many a Murray woman has made her mark here. I now own the property, including the land ye can see running out behind the house. I see that that is used weel. In truth, I had ne’er realized just how much land was taken up by this pleasure garden. ’Tis beautiful.”
“Oh, aye. I have come here often to sit beneath the roof of leaves or in the swing.” She pointed to the small, carved seat suspended from the branches overhead by two thick ropes.
“’Tis good to have a place to think.” His eyes widened slightly when she blushed. “And just what do ye come out here to think on, love?” he asked as he took her by the hand and pulled her close.
Bravery was a fleeting thing, she mused, as she faltered in her plans, but then the magic of the place seeped into her blood. It was a wild place in a way, a secret place where she could be free of constraint. Kirstie suspected it had always affected her so and that was why she had often had such sensuous daydreams whenever she was here. Now the object of all of them was in reach and the spirit of the place seemed to demand that she fulfill a few of those sensuous dreams.
“Ye with your chest bare,” she said quietly, encouraged by the way his eyes gleamed with a growing desire.
“As ye command, m’lady.” Payton swiftly shed his doublet and shirt.
“So chivalrous ye are to grant a lady her wish.” She gave him a slow, deep kiss, fighting her own rising passion even as she worked to rouse his. “Ye have such beautiful skin,” she murmured as she moved her kisses down to his broad chest. “So warm, so taut, and the taste of ye is so verra fine upon my tongue.”
Payton wanted her to decide that something else tasted very fine on her tongue, but he suppressed the urge to suggest it. He combed his fingers through her hair as her kisses
warmed his skin and heated his blood. As he looked up at the thick canopy of trees, he decided it was a perfect place for some unrestrained loving. Kirstie seemed to be in the mood for such sensual indulgence and he was curious as to just how unrestrained she might get.
“Was this all ye thought on?” he asked.
“Och, nay.” She knelt down and tugged off his boots. “Ye were always quite naked. I thought ye would look perfect naked here in the sun-dappled shade.” She slipped off his hose and braies, then ran her hands up and down his legs. “Of course, for the first few weeks I thought on it, I didnae quite picture this proud fellow being as impressive as he is,” she murmured, curling her fingers around his manhood. “Or,” she added in a soft, husky voice, “that I would find him such a delight…”
He groaned out his appreciation as she stroked him with her tongue. She took a leisurely pleasure in him, enhancing the delight she was giving him with her warm kisses and the gentle touches of her hands. She caressed his hips, his thighs, his buttocks, and even the heated area at the base of his erection. As if she sensed the growing intensity of his need, she slowly took him into her mouth. Despite her intuitive skill and his own desire to make the pleasure last as long as possible, in what he considered was far too short a period of time, he knew he was close to losing all control.
“Ah, love, ye must cease,” he said, although he could not make himself pull her away.
“Ye grow bored?” she asked, gently nipping the inside of his thighs.
“Jesu, nay, but I will soon be beyond control.” He gasped when she did something exquisitely clever with her tongue. “I willnae be able to pull back and ’tis said that women dinnae like that.”
“Ah, I suppose ’tis that grand, all-kenning
they
who say that, aye? Weel, how often are they right, I ask ye?”
When she took him back into the damp heat of her mouth, he lost all ability to protest, to even think clearly. His gaze fixed upon her, he relinquished all control. It was not until he sat slumped against the tree that he realized how completely he had done so. A little uncertainly, he looked at Kirstie, who was curled up at his side, idly stroking his stomach. If the faint smile on her lips was any indication, they were indeed wrong. He decided it would be wise to say nothing, for the very last thing he wanted was to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable, so much so that she hesitated to do it again. That would be a great tragedy, he thought, and bit back a grin.
This interlude was proving something he had suspected from the beginning. Kirstie was a passionate woman, sensual and giving. Doubts curtailed her enjoyment for now. She was a woman brought up to believe some rules should not be broken, yet she had done so to be with him. Once they were married, once their passion was sanctified, he had hopes that the restraint she so often practiced or felt would be greatly eased.
He noticed a slight flush upon her cheeks. Pleasuring him had obviously stirred her desire, which remained unsatisfied. Gently grasping her by the chin, he turned her face up to his and kissed her. Keeping her drugged with kisses, he slid his hand beneath her skirts. He found her more than ready for a quick pleasuring, and it stirred him deeply to know she had reached such a state through loving him as she had. It took but a few strokes of his fingers to bring her her release and, when she slumped against him, he tugged her over until she straddled him.
“I thought ye brought me here for some honey,” he murmured as he undid her bodice and caressed her breasts.
Those husky words quickly brought Kirstie out of her pleasant lethargy. She blushed a little when she realized she sat astride him, her breasts bared. There was no mistaking what he was asking for, but she was not sure she felt quite as bold as she had when she had brought him to this place. Then he began to kiss and suckle her breasts with a slow, seductive gentleness that made her think one more bold, reckless act could not hurt anything.
Payton leaned back against the tree. He watched her closely as he grasped her by the hips and tugged her up onto her knees. His body was hardening at the thought of what might happen next.
“Lift your skirts, Kirstie,” he said.
“Oh, Payton, I cannae,” she began to protest even as she felt her blood heat at the thought of doing such a brazen thing.
“Ah, lass, show me your beauty. Offer me your sweetness.” He lightly stroked her legs when she grasped the hem of her skirts, then hesitated. “Aye, show me heaven, love. Surrender to me as I did to ye.”
His soft, deep voice wove a spell around her and Kirstie slowly lifted her skirts. When he looked at what she revealed, she faltered a little, far too aware of how exposed she was. “Oh, Payton, I cannae—”
“Hush, my dark beauty.” He caressed her with his fingers and heard her breath catch. “Hush and let me pleasure ye. Tuck your skirts up, love.”
She obeyed him without hesitation, blindly seduced by his rich voice. When he kissed the inside of her thighs, his soft hair brushing against her so intimately, she shivered with delight. It was not until he nudged her legs farther apart that she regained a scrap of awareness over exactly what she was allowing.
“Payton, I dinnae think—”
“Good. Dinnae think. Feel. Revel. Succumb to it all as I did.” He kissed the silken-soft line of skin where her slender thigh joined her body. “Sigh. Moan. Cry out my name. Cry out for mercy.”
Even as she smiled faintly over those last words, Kirstie realized he was kissing her everywhere but where her body now ached for the touch of his mouth. “Payton?” She looked down at him, meeting his gaze even as he kissed her low on her belly.
“Ask me, my heart. Ask me to love you.”
“Ask ye? How brazen. How shameless. How wanton.”
“How intoxicating. How enflaming. How verra much I want to hear ye say it.”
And just how was she supposed to resist that, she thought as she threaded her fingers into his hair. “Love me, Payton.”
“Ah, my bonnie blackbird, how can I do aught else? Except, mayhap, make ye cry for mercy. Twice.”
She was just puzzling over the odd question when the import of his final words struck her. Kirstie opened her mouth to question that plan when she both saw and felt him stroke her with his tongue. All clarity of thought fled her mind. She succumbed. She reveled. She surrendered all—her doubts, her fears, her body, her heart. Kirstie let passion become her master and, if that master came in the perfect form of one Sir Payton Murray, she saw nothing wrong with that.
When had she gotten naked, Kirstie wondered as she slowly roused herself from a sated oblivion. She blushed as she recalled exactly when she had been relieved of all of her clothes. She glanced up and, if she judged the fading light correctly, more than two hours had passed since Payton had threatened to make her cry for mercy—twice. Kirstie was increasingly certain that she had done so more than twice. It was then that she became aware of the fact that the weight upon her back was Payton. When her rapidly waking mind recalled her to how he had gotten there and why, she blushed even more.
She certainly had reveled, she decided, and wondered if she was simply too tired to worry about it all. After what they had just indulged in for several hours in their private leafy bower, Kirstie thought she ought to feel riddled with shame. There was the small sting of embarrassment, and a twinge of concern about whether or not people were actually supposed to do such things, but nothing else.
It could be the soft magic of their trysting place, she thought as Payton moved off her and she slowly sat up, but she had the feeling she had finally reached a turning point. Kirstie realized she was not really even trying to find reasons for why she had behaved as she had done for the last few hours. At least none beyond the facts that she loved Payton and she loved the way he could make her feel. There had always been a part of her that had felt that was enough, and it had apparently finally won out. When she watched Payton stand up and stretch, looking gloriously tempting in his nakedness, she decided that part of her which felt that only the loving mattered was probably right. Sensing a flicker of interest in her body, she quickly reached for her clothes.
“Ah, time to come out of the wood, is it?” Payton asked as he stepped up behind her.
“’Tis late,” Kirstie said as she shook out her clothes. “I am surprised no one has come looking for us.”
Payton decided it would be very unwise to say what he was thinking, that if anyone had approached their bower in the last few hours, the noises she had made would have warned them to stay away. He idly brushed the grass and leaves from his body as he admired her fine lines. When he noticed that she had some of the same debris on her front, he started to brush her off as well. He was not only surprised by the way her nipples hardened in invitation as he lightly brushed his hand over her breast, but at how his body began immediately, if a little slowly, to respond to that invitation. He could tell by the look upon Kirstie’s face that she felt the same way.
“Jesu,” she muttered as she slapped his hand away, “we need a bucket of cold water thrown o’er us.”
Laughing softly, he began to help her dress. “I shall let ye leave here first,” he said as he finger-combed her hair and then began to lightly braid it. “I will follow ye in a wee bit.”
“Do ye really think that will fool anyone?” she asked and almost smiled as she looked herself over. “I believe I might look as if I have been, er, trysting.” Glancing at his scattered clothes, she added, “I suspect ye will, too.”
“Quite possibly. And, considering that we have both been gone for a long while and were last seen in the garden together, we could probably stroll in, looking as neat and prim as if we had just been to Mass, and they still would think we had been out trysting. Howbeit, nay need to tempt them into actually saying anything. I cannae promise that all
of my brothers and cousins will keep their big mouths shut and I am too worn out to pound them into the mud. Which, of course, I would have to if they spoke out.”
“E’en if all they said was ‘Good eve, m’lady?’”
“That would depend upon the look in their eyes as they said it.”
Kirstie laughed, recognizing the nonsense, the dark threats that would never be carried out. Her brothers did the same. She suspected Payton probably had pounded a few of his vast multitude of male relations into the mud, just as her brothers had thrashed each other on occasion, but it was now probably remembered quite fondly. Men, she thought, were sometimes very confusing.
Payton pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately. As he ended the kiss, he decided it may have been ill-advised. Kirstie looked adorably dazed, but he was naked and hard, while she was dressed and preparing to leave.