Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) (18 page)

She stared at his bare chest.

“I want you to show me how to please you.”

This is what she calls fantasy? he thought. This
is
heaven.

“Please me? Lass, you
do
please me. I am . . . beyond gratified.”

Kenna stood and turned in his arms until she faced him. Their gazes never wavered when she leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips. “Tell me or show me or I have to venture into this on my own.”

Alexander’s eyes dropped to her breasts, the nipples barely holding on to the silk. The heat was pulsing into his loins. He was in trouble. All he could think about was having her straddle him where he sat and burying himself in her.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled back until his gaze lifted from her breasts to her face. “Tell me what I should do or I go back to wishes.”

Alexander gripped her thighs. Then, slowly—very slowly—he began to gather the shift below her knees. “Just use your imagination, Kenna. Do whatever you want to me.”

She shivered when his hands slid under the raised hem, moving his palms across her naked buttocks. Taking his advice to heart, she tugged his shirt up over his head. Dropping the linen garment beside her, she let her hands travel, exploring his back, his shoulders, his chest, tracing the scars and muscle.

Alexander groaned when she followed her fingers’ trail with her mouth. She watched him—waiting for his reaction to the effect of her mouth on his skin. He tried to touch her, return the pleasure, but she pushed his hands away. She was in command of her curiosity, his body, his mind.

Slowly, she lowered herself in front of him, and as her mouth traced a path down his stomach, he took a deep breath and held it for so long that he finally gasped for breath.

Alexander’s hands reached for Kenna’s braid and pulled it back. Their eyes locked. “What are you doing to me?”

“Using my imagination.”

“You’re making me lose my mind.”

She smiled. “You have my permission.”

She placed her hands on his thighs and slid them slowly upward, pushing the kilt away. As her fingers found his manhood, encircling it, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. She moved closer and reached down and, hesitantly, rubbed the warm crown against her cheek, her ear, her throat. Alexander groaned.

The moment she slid her lips over him, taking him deep in her mouth, he lost control.

Within him, passion surged, filling his chest with a tightness that constricted all breathing. With her lips and tongue, she was driving him to the edge of release. When he knew he could take no more, he again grabbed her hair and pulled her head back until her face looked up into his. Their eyes met, and he saw her own matching desire. Desire that permeated the space between them. Desire that hung like a glistening jewel in their locked gazes.

His mouth descended upon her still-parted lips. His tongue thrust deeply into her warmth. He tasted all she had in her. Alexander’s hands cradled Kenna’s face, then moved to draw the silk shift up. He lifted it over her head. Taking her hands, he gazed on the vision looking up at him. She slowly, wordlessly, stood up.

Kenna shone as if lit from within. Like a goddess of some pagan rite, she stood motionless and hid nothing from him as his eyes did homage to her resplendent beauty. His gaze traveled from her face, down along the braided hair draped over one breast, past the curves of her belly to the triangle of soft hair that graced the junction of her long legs. He looked up into her exquisite face and violet eyes.

“Like flame to tinder. I ignite with your gaze alone.”

“It’s time I showed you a fire hotter than you’ve ever imagined.”

Kenna touched his cheek, and Alexander kissed the palm of her hand. Then, placing her arm on his shoulder, he lifted her effortlessly as he stood, moving to the bed and laying her across it.

He looked down at her as he kicked off his boots and unfastened the belt that held his kilt. Unwrapping it, he stood naked beside the bed, and Kenna watched him.

She moved restlessly against the bedding. “I need your weight on me.”

“Not yet.” Reaching down, Alexander took hold of Kenna’s legs, dragging her slowly toward him until her knees dangled at the edge of the bed. She began to raise herself, but he met her halfway, taking her wrists and pushing them back, trapping them with one hand above her head.

“Do you remember the tree in the clearing when we camped on our first night on the road? There were things I wanted to do to you that night.”

She smiled. “You tied me to that tree.”

He nodded, eying her squirming body and trying to keep his sanity intact.

“Imagine me tied.”

Alexander’s mouth was rough as he took possession of hers, and Kenna responded, hooking one leg around his thigh.

He tore his mouth from hers and kissed the hollow of her throat. He felt her body arch against him as his mouth descended, suckling a hardened nipple.

She seemed to hold her breath when his lips moved slowly down the softness of her belly. He parted her legs and draped them over his shoulder. Their eyes locked when he reached under her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth.

She gasped and Alexander’s tongue thrust into the sweet, moist darkness.

Kenna could not take air into her lungs, but she was beyond caring as the blood roared wildly in her head. When she thought she couldn’t take another moment of this erotic torture, he still held her down, tasting, probing, and teasing her until she cried out with release.

Moments later, she felt his weight upon her. Alexander took her into his arms and slid into her. Like two clay forms, their bodies molded together with a completeness that Kenna sensed more than thought. As they lay momentarily still, she felt his arms tightly around her, and she felt cherished, valued, loved.

When Alexander began to move, Kenna went with him. Looking up through the haze that clouded her vision, she saw her husband’s eyes burning into her with intensity. Her hands moved over his chest to his face, and she clutched at his hair as he once again slid molten heat into the very center of her. A moan escaped her lips, and a new urgency swept into her.

Kenna felt no bedding beneath her, saw no ceiling above. The only things she knew to be real were her husband and the wild sensations that were threatening to lift her out of herself and into another dimension. She clung desperately to him, but still more quickly she rose, ever higher and higher, until her spirit tore through the gauzy curtain of the world as she knew it. With blinding speed, the sky opened above her, and like a bird thrown into flight, Kenna soared upward into an unknown, crystalline sphere.

And Alexander was right there with her, stretching and circling, climbing into the blue-white reaches of another realm.

Two voices drifted down through the window. Two men were coming down the alleyway, and James didn’t know where Emily was hiding. She was definitely in danger.

The men were almost on top of the window.

“And they already paid?”

“Aye.” James heard the clink of coins. “Right here.”

“Then where to?”

“Beyond the new kirk and past the glen. Said just to take it to the bridge by the old mill.”

“This ain’t a godly hour to be doing such a job.”

The coins clinked again and the two men laughed.

James shook his head. Scots doing their enemy’s bidding like it was nothing. He waited at the wall below the window.

Steps. They were above him.

“When’s that bairn o’ yers coming?”

“Afore the harvest.”

“Gor, lad. That must make a baker’s dozen you got running about.”

“Aye. Shame the baker won’t feed ’em.”

They laughed as they moved away. The steps never faltered.

James pulled himself up and looked out through the opening. In the dark, the two appeared to be just farmers, one older and limping. No one else was in sight. No sign of Emily.

The bar was now close to the window. Emily must have had moved it before she disappeared. James reached for it, and a moment later, he’d pried the window open. Squeezing through, he stood and pressed his back against the stone wall. By the time he reached the muddy alley at the end of the passage, the men had harnessed the oxen and were climbing up on the cart.

He had to find Emily. He looked about. Even in the moonlight, he couldn’t identify where they were. Castles were constantly changing hands these days, some falling into enemy hands, but there were a few instances of turncoat lairds, too. It would be good to know if this holding belonged to someone they mistakenly counted as an ally.

A whip cracked and the cart began at a crawl. That’s when he saw her. She was in the back of the cart, half buried in the stacks of hay, waving at him.

He waved back, his mind racing. If he went back down the alleyway where the two men had come from, perhaps he’d recognize the castle. On the other hand, he couldn’t let her out of his sight and risk her safety. But he had no weapon, and if a guard at the gate spotted them, he needed to be ready to fight.

He made a motion that he’d follow, then turned in the opposite direction.

James had not taken two steps before he realized she was out of the cart and running toward him.

He caught her by the waist as she barreled into him.

“Where are you going?” she whispered.

“Get back inside that cart. I’ll catch up to you.”

“How? Nay, you have to come with me now. That’s our way out.” She started pulling him toward the creaking cart.

“I need to know where we are.”

“Later; we have to go now.”

He couldn’t get her hands off of him. Also, she was much stronger than he would have imagined—and much more persistent. “Nay! You go. I told you—”

“I won’t go without you,” she snapped. “You promised we’d stay together.”

“I have a responsibility here. I need to find out where we are, so I can come back here.”

“Die here if you wish, James Macpherson, but my blood will be on your hands as well. Go ahead—let us be captured again. You don’t care that I’ll be back in shackles down there with those brutes doing God knows what to me.”

James looked in the direction of the cart. It was almost at the end of the alley. This blond demon was right. Above all, he couldn’t jeopardize her safety. “By the devil! Very well, woman. Let’s go.”

He ran after the cart. She kept up with him and they jumped onto the back. Burrowing in, they pulled the hay over them, covering their bodies. The sky was beginning to brighten with the hint of dawn. He raised himself, hoping to get a glimpse of the buildings or the yard, but Emily rolled over him, pulling more hay over them. From somewhere ahead, voices reached them. The smell of a fire.

They lay perfectly still, face to face. Their lips almost touched. Their breaths mingled with the scent of fresh hay. Emily’s soft body lay sprawled on top of his. The cart rolled and bumped. Someone shouted a farewell from above them as they rolled through an enclosed passage. The cart wheels clacked over stone and then wood. They were through the gate. Another bump and they were on a country road.

James’s relief was only momentary and immediately replaced by his awareness of this woman stretched out on him. He could feel every curve, and a tendril of her blond hair lay across his lips. Before he could move, he felt himself growing hard.

He turned his attention to other things.

“Move, lass,” he breathed. “I need to see where we are.”

He tried to push her to the side, but she slipped her arms around his neck. As they rolled, James found himself on top.

And before he could push away, Emily pulled herself up and kissed him.

This castle held little for Sir Ralph except food, and women for his men, and a few paltry chests of plate and gold.

Leaving his men to it, he strode to the small chapel a few paces from the tower. As he entered, the dying sun threw his shadow into the long rectangle of light that cut the darkness of the nave. The chapel had already been emptied of anything of value.

But he could smell it. The bitter, ashy taste of the dead was in his mouth.

Descending the few steps into the crypt, he paused as the tablet in the leather pouch beneath his shirt warmed. He smiled. No longer did he need to wait for the spirits of the dead to rise. With every passing day, the power sank its roots deeper within him.

He raised his arms in the darkness.

From the very center of the crypt floor, a shape rose and stood before him.

“Speak and tell me who you are.”

“John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, Lord of Lochaber, and Guardian of Scotland.”

“Indeed. The Red Comyn.”

The specter nodded.

“Stabbed to death by the Bruce himself in a church in Dumfries.”

“Aye,” the ghost replied. His voice, deep and gruff. “Carried back here under cover of night. Buried here in secret like an unchristened whore.”

“You would have been king of Scotland, they say.”

The spirit nodded again.

“Instead, your descendants were banished from these lands. Exiled to England. They live there still, fighting with us against the Stewart rabble that now rule.”

The Red Comyn stared, his dead
,
black eyes seething with hatred that centuries had not diminished.

“And I raised you from hell. You died in your blood two centuries ago.”

Sir Ralph felt for the stone tablet.

“This is true power, Red Comyn. Think of what I will gain from the secrets of the dead. With these hands, I will raise an army of the dead. Their riches will be mine. And no one living will stand before me.”

Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

As Alexander and Kenna lay together in each other’s arms, the following breeze shifted and the ship heeled slightly, breaking the spell.

Lying there, he couldn’t help think of his past experiences with women. They all paled in comparison to this. Not one even came close to the lightning blast of passion, to the ironbound union of souls he shared with Kenna. They were destined to be together. He recognized the truth now with a fierce certainty. The past no longer existed. They had only the present and the future.

Propped up on his elbow, he traced the lines of her beautiful face with his fingers. She turned and gave him a smile that took his breath away.

“I don’t believe I have ever seen you look as happy as you do now.”

“How could I not be happy? I am married to a beautiful, confident, intelligent, independent, spontaneous, and sensual woman. And for the first time, I’m not worried that she’ll run away the first time my back is turned or put a blade to my throat when I close my eyes to rest.”

“In spite of your compliments, you’re being far too confident.” She edged up against him.

“I know how you feel about me.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because that was the greatest lovemaking since the Garden of Eden, and the first words out of your mouth confirmed it.”

“Did they?”

“Aye. You told me you had no idea what you were running away from six months ago.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant to.”

She ran a finger across his lips. “You and I have made many mistakes. But perhaps those six months apart might be the reason why everything has worked out between us now.”

He shook his head in disagreement. She nodded.

Alexander sighed, gathering Kenna even closer in his arms. “I know it’s foolish to think that we could agree on even the simplest matters.”

“Perhaps we can agree on this. I’ll not run away and I’ll not stab you, unless you give me a reason.”

“This makes me happy.” He rolled onto his back, and she propped her chin on his chest. “I intend to give you no reason.”

She laughed. “A very wise husband. Then, as a reward, I have a compliment for you.”

“Only one?”

She raised herself up, and her gaze traveled down his naked body and back to his face. “Scars and all, you are more handsome than any man has a right to be. And you are brave and honest and strong of heart.”

“Handsome? Do you mean it?”

“And is that the only compliment you heard?”

“Were there others?” He ran his fingers up her spine, enjoying the shiver it produced.

She gathered the blankets to her chest and knelt up, smiling. “Before you distract me, there are a few things that we need to discuss.”

“I don’t have any idea how to distract you.” He tried to pull the blanket down from her breasts, but she playfully slapped his hand away.

“Emily.”

“There’s nothing to discuss about that wedding. You’re not going.”

“And there, you see? You’ve just opened the door for another argument.”

“Kenna, be reasonable.” He put his hands behind his head. “Going back to Craignock Castle would be descending into the dragon’s lair. Even if I turned this ship around and we sailed there, Evers would soon know of it. And how long do you think it would be before his troops were battering down the MacDougall’s gate?”

“I agree. I don’t wish to go anyway.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“It was a test. And you failed.”

“How?”

“You ordered me, Alexander,” she said flatly. “You have admitted you don’t take orders well. Well, I don’t, either.”

He started to reply but then stopped. He was the commander of the Macpherson fleet. At Benmore Castle, his father encouraged him to make decisions that affected the clan. He was accustomed to issuing orders. And people obeyed.

Perhaps, he thought, this is part of marriage. He and Kenna would fight many battles, until one of them softened.

“Think of this as a teaching moment,” she said gently, breaking into his thoughts. “We must teach each other, and we must each learn.”

“Go on,” he said.

“I know my own temperament. I know I’m impulsive. I often say and do things before thinking them through. So I’m asking you to discuss things reasonably with me, rather than issuing a command. If you can do that, we’ll both fare much better.”

He settled back against the pillows. He couldn’t help but to be amused. And she was right about this. He
was
capable of being reasonable. Many of his men swore to it.

“And you have a cleverness of wit, too,” he replied. “Did you bring up Emily’s wedding for the purpose of creating this ‘teaching’ moment?”

“Actually, that was an unexpected bonus. I never mentioned the wedding. I only said ‘Emily.’”

She reached down and traced the scar in his side with the tip of her finger. Alexander breathed in deeply, feeling heat seep through his skin. The wound, fresh only days ago, now appeared to be healed. In fact, he no longer even thought about it.

“Very well. What about her?”

“I was thinking she might have some information about the tablet.”

“Emily? How?”

“Our mothers were sisters. I could be wrong, but it’s at least a possibility that the stone was handed down from my grandmother to Sine. I used to hear stories that my mother had inherited the gift of healing from
her
mother.”

“And you think Emily may have heard stories from her mother.”

“My mother died when I was twelve, but my aunt died just two summers ago. Perhaps Emily knows something.”

Alexander propped himself up on an elbow.

“You and Emily spent some time together growing up.”

“Anytime my father thought I was spending too much time with the men, I was sent to Craignock . . . for months at a time.”

“But neither your aunt nor Emily ever mentioned any of this?”

Kenna shook her head. “It never came up. But I never asked. I didn’t know the tablet was waiting for me at Castle Varrich.” She paused.

“What is it?”

“Now that I think of it, if I had known about this gift when my aunt took sick, I might have helped her. Saved her life even.”

“But you were at Castle Varrich when she died?”

“I was.”

“Three weeks of hard riding in good weather, if not more. How long was she ill?”

She shook her head and stared at her lap. “Not very long. But now that I know what I’m capable of, what I could have done . . .”

Alexander grabbed her hand. His thumb caressed the warm palm. “You didn’t have the stone. And you didn’t even know about it. But you also need to remember that you can’t save everyone. You can’t be everywhere. Sickness and death are part of this world we live in. We’re all mortal, Kenna. Your mother was. And those who had the stone before her were, as well. Put that guilt behind you. Think about those you’ve already saved. About those you will save.”

Her eyes were misty jewels when they met his. She brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed his fingers. “When did you become so wise?”

“It’s a gift. I’ve always had it.” Alexander smiled and touched her lips. He wiped away a tear that fell onto her cheek.

The power that the stone bestowed on Kenna was no trifling matter. It was truly a matter of life and death, and the ramifications were not lost on him. If word ever got out beyond the rumors Evers and Maxwell were spreading, if the truth of her power were ever made public, she would always be hunted. By everyone. He couldn’t let that happen.

“You understand that we must keep your gift secret,” he said gently but firmly. He was not ordering her, but he needed her to understand. “And that’s from everyone. My family. Your family. Everyone. You said your mother never even spoke of it to you. When you talk to Emily, somehow you mustn’t reveal anything to her.”

“I know.” Kenna sighed. “Revealing this secret cost an old man his life, and because of that, the Englishman knows whatever Cairns knew. That’s why he’s coming after me.”

He nodded.

“Alexander, I need to find the other two women Evers is after . . . before he finds them. They must hold a gift that is somehow connected to mine. And what happens if they have no way of protecting it?”

“Not you . . .
we
will find them. The two of us.” He knew it would be only a matter of time before Kenna brought this up.

She squeezed his hand.

“We don’t even know their names,” he continued. “But once we land, I’ll set Diarmad on their trail. This far north, we’re in a far better position to find these women than Evers and his armies could ever be.”

Kenna appeared more in control of her emotions. The look of confidence was back in her face. “I’d still like to see my cousin. Perhaps not before that mess of a wedding, but soon.”

“Sir Quentin Chamberlain will be taking Emily back to the Borders as soon as he can. You can be certain of that.”

“Aye,” Kenna spat. “But how could a father make such a disastrous match for his only daughter?”

“You didn’t think too highly of
your
father’s decision, either.”

“By comparison, you’re a prince. Chamberpot is a festering piece of aged, elf-skinned baggage.”

A prince. Alexander smiled. A yet another complement from his wife. He could get used to this.

“But you haven’t even met him.”

“Nor has Emily, and that makes it worse. This is the sixteenth century we’re living in, not the Dark Ages, by the saints!”

“I met the man. At court.”

Curiosity lit her face. “And . . . ?”

“Sir Quentin is puny and vain. An ill-bred peacock. But he has wealth and position at court. And for his second wife, he wants a young, beautiful, submissive wife with a good name and breeding potential. And this union with the MacDougalls only adds to his power and influence.”

Kenna shuddered and lay down next to her husband. “I still can’t believe Emily is going along so willingly.”

She wanted to be on top. He let her.

Though he knew this would be trouble, James didn’t resist when she edged over on top of him beneath the warm hay. She ran her fingers along his rough growth of beard. Her curiosity was guiding her as she tenderly, repeatedly touched his lips with hers.

He lay still, frozen between what he should do and what he wanted to do. He was already aroused by her. Moving would mean taking charge, and his body craved far more than kissing.

Smart, spirited, and eager for him, she was an alluring dream in flesh and blood. In the recesses of his mind, he realized the absurdity of the situation. But in his loins, he felt the same thrill that the hunter feels when coming face to face with the stag. The connection between them was palpable; it was undeniable. Inwardly, he thanked the hand of fate for throwing them together, for giving them this last chance before she was married and gone forever. This was their moment. Perhaps their last moment.

He ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. She paused and then mimicked what he had done. This time he delved in a bit deeper, rubbing his tongue against hers. He felt her intake of breath. Emily was a diligent student. Her tongue explored his mouth, her body molding itself to his.

If she wanted to drive him beyond reason, it was working. His hands caressed her as they kissed. He kneaded her back, her buttocks, pulling her tight against him. A soft moan escaped her throat.

One last vestige of reason asserted itself.

“We should stop,” he whispered under his breath. “Worlds are about to change, perhaps forever.”

But even as he said it, he hooked one of her legs with his, keeping her captive.

“I know,” she breathed in his ear. “But not yet. I’ve never done this before, and . . . and it feels so right.”

A bump in the road jolted them, and her body ground against his now obvious erection. Her eyes opened wide and then her gaze immediately went to James’s mouth. She attacked it with a new vigor, this time an open mouth assault of lips and tongue.

When he could take no more, he turned his face away and pressed her head into the crook of his neck. It was becoming harder and harder to remain passive. He tried to focus on anything and everything instead of the urge to bury himself deep inside of her virginal sheath. He tried not to see her, not to think of her, not to smell her intoxicating scent. He couldn’t let his cock make decisions that they would both regret.

He pushed some of the straw away. Sunlight and fresh air and glimpses of leaves on the trees.

“I wonder if kissing Sir Quentin will be anywhere near as good as kissing you.”

“Nothing about us will be the same,” he murmured, fighting down irrational anger.

In spite of himself, he rolled her beneath him. Pushing her knees apart, he shoved himself between her legs where the cloth of her torn dress was the only barrier. “Do you feel this?”

Her eyes half closed and she nodded. She tilted her hips, nestling him even more tightly against her. She wasn’t getting it.

“Is this what you want?” He pulled at the neckline of her dress, harder than he intended, and cloth ripped, exposing one of her breasts. Before he knew it, his mouth descended, latching onto the nipple as she gasped and lifted her knees. She held his head tight against her breast.

“Oh, James,” she breathed. “Please, what’s happening to me?”

He broke off and took her mouth in a bruising kiss. One hand reached between their bodies. He lifted her skirts and found her wetness. He stroked her with one finger and delved into her tightness. She convulsed in his arms—gasping, pulling his hair, squirming, her heart pounding so hard that he could feel it in his own chest.

Rational thought returned, and he slowly, gently withdrew his hand and rolled to his side, still holding her in his arms. He ached with how much he wanted to take her. And he knew she’d let him. But he wouldn’t do it. Not here. Not like this. He’d already done more than he’d intended.

Her blue eyes looked into his with awe. She caressed his face, her thumb brushing his lips. “How . . . ? I never expected . . .”

James tensed at the sound of the farmer calling out to his oxen, and the cart creaked to a halt.