The Baron's Bounty (12 page)

“But . . . ye kissed me in the chapel as well,” she reminded him, sucking in a breath as he pushed his chest up against her bare back, and she felt his hardened arousal touch her.

“I did, but ’twas naught but a blur to me with everyone watching.”

“I’m glad ye sent the others away.”

His fingers gripped the bottom of her linen shift, and he slowly slid it upward, higher and higher til it went past her buttocks and hips. She wore no braies, and with another expert move, he had it up and over her head, and her hands were in the air. He dropped it to the ground in a heap amongst the lavender and sage rushes of the floor. The pungent aroma of the herbs wafted up into the air, making her heady. Ever so slowly, he bent over and buried his nose in the crook of her neck as his arms wrapped around her body.

“God, Isobel, are you sure this is what you want? Because I’m no longer sure I would have the strength to turn away if you tell me no.”

“It’s what me uncle wants,” was her answer. “The consummation will secure yer alliance with the Scots and protect yer lands and people as well as mine. So how could I deny it? Yer daughter, Rose, will be safe becooz o’ our action, and isna thet all thet really matters?”

He turned her slowly toward him, and instinctively she reached out and touched his bare chest. The light dusting of crisp, dark hairs tickled the tips of her fingers.

“Bid the devil, it feels good to be touched by a woman again.” His hands slid up her sides and then covered her breasts, caressing them gently. Her eyes closed when he rolled her nipples between his fingers and they went taut with pleasure. Liquid passion pooled at the juncture of her thighs. He leaned over and kissed her and she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer.

His kiss was gentle at first and he pulled at her lower lip sensually as their mouths parted. The heat between them was searing and she felt as if she were going to explode with passion. She slowly stepped away from the gown, standing on the toes of her soft slippers, never having removed her shoes. She kissed him with passion, and she heard the moan at the back of her own throat when he surprised her with his tongue slipping into her mouth.

He pulled back and ran a gentle hand against her cheek and she leaned in to his large palm, feeling so special and also safe with this man she barely knew.

“Good God, you are beautiful.” His voice sounded sultry and this excited her even more.

“Ye are verra handsome as well,” she said in return, running her hands down his chest. When her fingers splayed past his nipples, she felt the tautness. He was just as excited.

He reached out and took her hand and guided it down below his waist. She didn’t look at first – just touched him. But when she felt his length and hardened form, her curiosity got the better of her and her eyes traveled downward to see what she was caressing.

“Och, ye are so . . . big,” she said, staring at his engorged manhood with wide eyes. She’d never dreamed a man could be so big, so hard, and so ready. Excitement coursed through her, and she could hear her heart pumping loudly in her ears. She was sure he must be able to hear it as well. She closed her fingers tighter around his form and squeezed slightly, reveling in the feel of silk over steel. Her action caused him to moan in pleasure.

“You tease me, my lady, and I must warn you that I am so ready for this that any slight touch may cause this to be over before we’ve actually consummated the marriage.”

“I understand,” she said, kissing him again. He tasted from ale, and smelled like bayberries on an autumn day. Her body called to him, and her legs grew weak. She collapsed backwards onto the bed. Before she knew it, he was leaning over her, kissing her again.

“Are you ready?” His voice was soft and gentle, but at the same time he sounded just as anxious as she was at this moment. There was no way either of them could stop now. It was an act that needed to be done to secure an alliance and protect the lives of many. She’d do it for England as well as for her dead king and her country. Nay – she’d do it for herself.

“I am,” she said boldly, and at her words he used one hand to part her legs. He cupped her mound, and his expert fingers played with her womanhood, quickly finding the nub that brought her pleasure. It caused her to cry out as her body vibrated, and her muscles constricted, trying to pull him in. He slipped one finger and then two between her folds and she arched up off the bed, throwing her head back in elation.

“Och, ye ken how te pleasure a lassie, but I want ye inside me, Conlin, now!” She used his Christian name, and he didn’t stop her from doing it. Actually, it almost seemed to make him more excited. He picked up her legs and moved them onto the bed, first realizing she still wore her shoes. He went to unfasten them, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her.

“Leave them be.” She spread her legs wider, inviting him into the warmth of her deepest desires. “I need te feel ye in me, Conlin. Please,” she begged him, hoping he wouldn’t turn her away. My, how the tides had changed.

He positioned himself over her, and she felt the tip of his arousal touch the juncture of her thighs. She waited, and when he slid his length into her, she was so wet and ready that even though this was the first time she’d ever coupled with a man, she found herself climbing to heights she’d never dreamed could be true.

“Oh, Isobel,” he said through ragged breathing, pushing into her until she took him in completely. “Ohhhh, Isobel!” His hips moved faster and she met with his thrusts and cried out as he stretched her so much that she thought she’d burst.

But she didn’t complain, because she wanted him. And when he spilled his seed, she swore she could feel within her his pent-up emotions as well as passion, lust, and a sense of relief.

Three years he’d waited to couple with a woman since the death of his wife, and it showed. He was a lion atop her, growling and panting, as they did the ancient dance between a husband and a wife that had been performed since the beginning of time.

But they weren’t really married, she reminded herself. Then she realized, neither did she care. That is, until he shouted out his passion once more. That’s when she realized what they’d done was wrong.

“God, I love you, Skena,” he cried, pulling out of her and falling onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“What did ye say?” She rolled over next to him, trying to gain her breath as well.

He must have realized then what he’d said, and the moment of heated passion between them ended just as quickly as it’d begun.

He covered his face with his hand, and when he removed it he squinted his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Isobel . . . I . . . I just –”

“It’s all right,” she said softly, pushing up off the bed and making her way over to the washbasin to clean off. “It doesna matter.” She held back the tears and bit her lip, keeping her back to him as she wrung out the rag in the water. She felt the sting of the stubble from his face on her cheeks now and also the aching between her thighs from taking all of him into her body. His thrusts were powerful and his passion intense, but she had wanted it just as much as he had during the throes of making love.

It was over now. She’d consummated a marriage that wasn’t even hers, and he’d called her the name of his dead wife. She felt worthless and used and naught more than a puppet on a string, just like Rose had graciously pointed out to her earlier.

“Isobel, I never should have –”

“Dinna fret aboot it, it doesna matter.” She felt his eyes watching her from the bed, and when he started to come to her she stopped him with a raised hand.

“Dinna,” she said, swallowing her pride and biting the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t cry. “We consummated yer marriage and now the alliance is sealed. We did it fer Rose and fer yer people. We should feel guid right now.”

“Then why don’t I? I feel as if I hurt you, and that was never my intention.”

“I told ye, Baron, it doesna matter. She raised her chin proudly and forced a fake smile. “Becooz I’m no’ yer dead wife, and I’m no’ yer livin’ wife either. I am nobody, me lord, except a puppet on a string. I’m a lassie who does e’eryone else’s bidding. I am merely a God-forsaken proxy so dinna e’er forget it again!”

Chapter 12

Conlin sat at the gravesite of his wife and five children, staring at the wooden crosses that marked where each of them lay. He’d been here in the little graveyard outside Saint Peter’s church all night, after he’d made love to Isobel.

“I called her by your name,” he said, staring into the air over his wife’s grave. “I made love with her, Skena, but I did it for Rose – for Sandwich – hell I did it for myself I am ashamed to admit.

He picked at the grass at his feet, not caring that anyone walking by would think he was addled. He needed to do this. He needed to talk to his wife like he always used to, but damned it, she wasn’t here when he needed her. Just like he hadn’t been there when she needed him either.

“I’ll always love you, Skena, you know that, but I can’t go on living this way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and the baby when you needed me, but you told me to take Rose and leave. You knew I always granted you any request, and that’s why you sent us away that day, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to see the pain in my eyes or hear your little girl cry when your life slipped away. If only I could hold you and kiss you one more time.” He brushed a tear from his eye, feeling too choked to say anything more.

Isobel stood in the shadows behind a tree watching Conlin talking to himself in the graveyard. She’d followed him here last night, and spent the night watching him pacing, cursing, and talking to a dead woman as if the corpse could really hear him. This man was troubled and in a lot of pain, and she now regretted acting the way she had when he’d called out his wife’s name after they’d made love.

But she was hurting, the same as he. And while he had his daughter to talk to, she had no one. Nay, she wouldn’t feel sorry for him because there was no one in this world who would feel sorry for her.

She stepped back and ran over the hard earth, concealed beneath a hooded cloak she’d found in the solar. She hurried back to the castle, not wanting to watch Conlin anymore, because right now she felt jealous of a dead woman, and that was not a good thing at all.

* * *

“Be sure to tell Lady Catherine that I will be staying in Sandwich in her stead only until she gets here,” Isobel told Elliot later that day. Rose stood at her side as they watched the baron’s ship being loaded with goods that Shadwell would trade with the Scots during their trip back to Kirkcaldy. “Tell her too, that my gowns and personal items were lost at sea when the ship went down and that I’ll need her to send me more if it’ll be a while before she’s well enough to travel. It’s all in the note I sent.”

“Aye,” said Elliot, putting the missive in his pouch that she’d given him earlier to deliver to Catherine.

Isobel knew not only Rose was watching her like a hawk, but Conlin hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since they’d coupled. She and Conlin hadn’t said more than two words to each other since then, but then again, Isobel didn’t have anything to say.

“Shadwell, check the tension of the lines,” announced Conlin. “Crew, get ready to sail,” he called from the deck of his ship.

“Father, are you leaving?” Rose looked up at her father from the pier. He stilled, then looked over the side of the Lady Bellicose and flashed her a smile.

“Nay, of course not, darling. I’ll be staying here this time.”

“Good,” she said, and turned to go back to the castle. “Lady Isobel, aren’t you coming? I thought we could spend the day together.”

“O’ course. Go ahead, I’ll meet ye at the end o’ the pier,” she told her.

The girl skipped off happily, and Isobel leaned over and talked to her guard. “Elliot, make certain Lady Catherine gets me letter as soon as ye get back to Scotland. It is verra important, do ye understand?”

“O’ course, me lady,” he said with a bow, and headed up the boarding plank of the ship. She looked up to see Conlin staring at her over the side. She didn’t say a word. She turned and headed down the pier to find Rose.

“My lord? Did you hear me?” Toft waved his hand in front of Conlin’s face, breaking the connection as he stood transfixed, watching in awe as Isobel and his daughter walked hand in hand down the docks. She’d just met Rose, yet she’d accomplished this. Rose wouldn’t even let him touch her, and he was her father.

“I’m sorry, Toft. What did you say?” He turned toward his squire.

“I said, are you sure it wouldn’t be better for you to sail to Scotland as well? After all, now that you’re married to Lady Catherine, I’d think you’d be in a hurry to be at her side if you know what I mean.”

“Nay. I’ll stay right here in Sandwich. If Lady Catherine wants to see me, she’ll have to come here since this will be her new home.”

“Ah, I see.” Toft tapped his finger against the side of his face, opening and closing his mouth, making odd noises.

“You see what? And stop making those godforsaken noises. Sometimes I swear you act more like a child than my own daughter.”

“What I see is a man who not only doesn’t want to leave his daughter, but who doesn’t want to leave his proxy either. If you know what I mean.”

Conlin didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Keep that up, and I’ll send you to Scotland in my place to deal with the shrew, if you know what
I
mean. Now let’s get off the ship and let it sail. I’ve got things to do and schedules to keep. There is a lot going on today and I need to spend some time on the docks.”

“Aye, milord.” Toft hurried down the steps of the sterncastle and over the deck of the ship. Conlin followed, and was about to disembark when he spied Elliot closing up his pouch as he boarded the ship.

“Elliot,” he said, causing the man to straighten up.

“Aye, milord?”

Conlin saw Toft watching, waiting for him. “Toft, head on back to the castle and tell the stableboy to prepare a horse and cart. I’ll be with you soon.”

“Aye, milord, but what for? Are we going somewhere?”

“Just do it and stop asking so many questions or you’ll be going somewhere far away . . . if you know what I mean.” He nodded with his head to the ship. When Toft realized he was speaking of Scotland, he bowed and hurried down the boarding plank so fast, that he slipped and almost fell into the water.

Conlin turned back to Elliot and spoke in a low voice so the rest of his crew wouldn’t hear him. “Let me see the missive Isobel gave you to give to Lady Catherine.” He held out his hand and waited.

“But milord,” the guard said, looking terrified. “It is sealed in wax. I dinna think ye should open it.”

“Hand it over, Elliot. I am a Baron of the Cinque Ports and need to know what I’m transporting to other countries aboard my own ship.”

“O’ course me lord.” He sheepishly dug into his pouch and pulled out the letter and gave it to Conlin.

Conlin had overheard Isobel telling the guard how important the letter was, so he knew without a doubt it was something she didn’t want him to read. He broke the seal and opened the letter and scanned the contents quickly. She wasn’t at all asking for clothes like she’d pretended, and matter of fact it wasn’t even a letter to Lady Catherine at all. It was a letter to her uncle, begging him to send Catherine as quickly as possible, saying she no longer wanted to be anyone’s proxy. She told him she wanted to get out of England and away from Conlin as fast as possible.

Then her next words took him by surprise. She asked if Catherine had told him about someone murdering King Alexander. She said she thought Conlin could have done it, and that she would do more investigating and hopefully be able to give him an answer by the time Catherine replaced her and she returned to Scotland.

“What’s the meaning of this letter?” he asked the guard.

“I canna say, me lord. It was sealed, and Lady Isobel didna tell me what she wrote.”

“Well you won’t be delivering this after all, as I don’t feel it is appropriate and will have a talk with Lady Isobel about this.”

“But, me lord. What will I tell Laird MacEwen?”

“He obviously doesn’t know there is a letter coming, so if I were you I wouldn’t even mention it.” Conlin folded up the missive and stuck it into his own pouch. “I’ll talk to him about it myself when I see him, since now that the marriage has been consummated, we are allies. You do have the missive I wrote him, and you will tell him I’ve done as asked.” He didn’t ask, he told the guard, and the man just nodded his head looking very worried.

“O’ course, me lord.”

“Then all is well.” He looked up to the forecastle where Shadwell was watching him, waiting for his order to set sail. “Take care of the Lady Bellicose, Shadwell. Anything happens to her and I’ll take it out of your hide when you return.”

“Aye, my lord,” Shadwell called down to him. “Your ship is in safe hands with me, and I’ll bring her back just as she left you.”

“Then set sail for Scotland,” he said with a nod, heading down the boarding plank and watching as they cast off. It didn’t feel right to watch his ship set sail without him on it. But then again, he knew he’d made the right decision. He was in no hurry to meet or bed his new wife, plus he didn’t want to leave Isobel before he had a chance to talk to her about last night. He put his hand on the pouch, glad he had intercepted this letter, because there was something going on that he didn’t know about and somehow he was involved.

If the king of the Scots truly was murdered instead of it being an accident like everyone thought, this could be a problem. And if somehow he was accused of doing the deed, than even his alliance through this marriage would no longer matter, because killing a country’s king was a hell of a reason for an all-out war with the Scots.