A week later, Averyl woke slowly, warm and languid—and aware of a heated tingle in her womanly core. Soft lips plied magic in the curve of her neck. On instinct, she arched toward them, seeking pleasure. She was rewarded her with a hot hand upon her breast.
Fingers sizzled her skin as they caressed her through her smock, teased her nipple into a hard pebble. Something within her shouted warnings to withstand the artful mastery of those hands. Then she felt a mouth to her breast, and she moaned at the moist blade of a tongue upon her. Gasping, Averyl struggled to recall why she should resist this.
“Aye, lass,” the voice encouraged. “Feel me.”
Drake!
She opened her eyes to find his gaze fastened upon her, a hot black in the burgeoning light. Such utter male beauty never ceased to amaze her, nor did the depth of her desire. Swallowing, she fought the ache pulsing in her belly.
“This is good and right between us. We need naught else,” he assured, his voice coaxing.
Except love, her mind shouted. Love he possessed not for her. Love he would never feel.
Coming fully awake, she pushed against his shoulders until he eased away, frowning. Averyl clasped the sheet to her.
“Where is my dress?” she demanded.
He glanced at the floor. “’Tis an inconvenient habit you have of wearing too much clothing, my wife.”
Averyl espied her gown beside the bed as Drake leaned closer, allowing her the feel of the velvet strength of his chest. She closed her eyes, praying for fortitude.
For ten nights, she had rejected the arousing advances that curled her toes, the sensual suggestions that shallowed her breathing. Aye, how she wanted him, the sense of joining she always felt with him. ’Twas nothing less than torment to refuse that which she wanted so desperately, his attention, his tenderness, his touch. But her mind, her pride, refused her heart the bliss of surrender.
She would not become his whore, to be used and discarded as he wished. Though with each day, each kiss, he became harder to deny. Not only did her body respond to his seduction but her heart responded to his seeming confusion at her refusals.
His dark hair brushed her cheek as he loomed closer. Before Averyl could turn away, his lips covered hers. The breadth of his hand encompassed her hip, wound around her thigh, raised her smock to her waist. Eyes closed, she clasped fistfuls of their sheets as she clenched her legs together to fend off the pleasurable onslaught of his nimble fingers.
“Do not touch me,” she whispered.
“Your words say nay, but your voice breaks and pleads,” he breathed, pressing his hot erection directly against her. Her arousal climbed.
Sweet mercy, he was naked. The warm expanse of his golden skin surrounded her, as did the scent of man, musky, wild, not to be denied, as he pressed against her again.
Averyl stifled a groan. How could she ache for him so badly when he wanted naught from her but her body? When he cared so little?
At the apex of her thighs, Averyl felt his fingers, gentle, insistent, coaxing. Her body felt as liquid as a river, her mind as empty as Abbotsford’s fields. She must resist, for her future, for herself. She must…
“I say nay!” She pushed against him again.
This time, Drake sat up and stared at her through a dark scowl. He was very unhappy, indeed.
’Twas no problem of hers. She had all she could manage resisting him, Averyl thought, rising to find her dress.
As she donned the garment, she felt Drake’s eyes upon her, intent.
“Averyl, why—”
“Hello?” called a vaguely familiar voice through the morn’s heavy gray mist, ripping through their solitude.
Drake stiffened and cursed a string of unkind expletives before rising to yank on his hose and tunic, then open the door.
On the other side stood Kieran wearing a lopsided grin.
Holding the door, Drake stepped back, jaw tight, silent.
“Hello, Drake.”
“Greetings,” he intoned, closing the door as Kieran entered the small cottage and sat upon a nearby stool.
“Mind you that I used the key to let myself past your gate?”
“’Tis why I gave it to you.”
Averyl winced at Drake’s abrupt answer. Kieran regarded him with a long look, then a raised brow in her direction.
“My lovely Lady Averyl, forgive my remiss,” said Kieran, rising to take her hand. “How fare you with this rogue?”
She cast an uneasy glance at Drake, whose dark expression did more than hint at his interest in her answer. She could not answer. “What of you, after your last journey here?”
His answering smile was deprecating and charming at once. “I live to see another day of battle and beauties.” Kieran began to raise her hand to his mouth. “Especially your beauty.”
Drake stepped between them, taking her hand from his friend’s and grasping it with his own. “I’ll thank you not to touch my wife.”
“Wife?” Kieran’s blue-green eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in incredulity. All attempts at teasing disappeared. “You wed her? You took her to wife?”
Averyl blanched, wondering if Kieran was surprised that Drake had married…or that he had tied himself to so homely a bride. She tried to pry her hand from Drake’s.
He resisted, placing a hand about her waist to bring her against him. “Aye. What of it?”
Kieran said naught for near a minute. Even the birds ceased their songs.
Finally, a wide smile curled his wide charmer’s mouth. “You rascal, I thought you would never take a bride, given Diera—”
“This is not a love match.” Drake released her abruptly.
Again, Kieran fell silent. He glanced between Drake and herself, his gaze measuring, oddly disappointed. “Then why?”
“Murdoch cannot wed her if I have.”
“Unless he kills you, you dimwit!”
“He will do all he can to kill me, regardless. But if Averyl should escape”—he pinned her with a gaze that consumed and accused her at once—“Murdoch cannot wed her.”
Kieran groaned. “You have enraged Murdoch enough. But to wed her… He will take more pleasure in your death if he catches you.”
“Why?” Averyl broke in. “MacDougall cares naught for me.”
Kieran faced her. “Murdoch cares for no one but himself. ’Tis money he covets, which he stands to inherit a great deal of, but not unless he weds you before you turn eight and ten.”
The infamous will again. Murdoch had the power of the clan behind him now, but none of the funds, not unless he wed her soon. And only Drake stood between her and Murdoch’s plans. Averyl trembled as she realized the added danger her handfast husband had placed himself in by speaking vows with her.
“And what if you live?” Kieran challenged. “What of your wife then?”
“We are but handfast. In a year’s time, she will be free.”
Kieran sighed, shaking his head. “Idiot. Your quest for revenge all but ensures your death.”
“I knew such when I started.”
“’Tis utterly foolish!” she cried. “You cannot mean to see your life’s blood spilled over some dead man’s money.”
Kieran grimaced. “Lochlan was like a god to his people. Such was doubly true of Drake, his—”
“No more,” Drake hissed. “We are wed for the next year. No one, least of all Murdoch, can change that.”
She looked from Kieran’s chagrined features to Drake’s tense ones. Another secret. She could feel it, for the very words had hovered on the tip of Kieran’s tongue. How exactly had Drake and Murdoch’s father known each other to form a strong bond of friendship? And why did Drake want to keep the secret so badly?
As much as Averyl yearned to know, she turned away. Until Drake could trust her enough to speak his secrets, until he could care for her as she cared for him, knowing meant naught.
Certain her wishes were futile, she left the cottage.
* * * * *
Drake stared at Averyl’s retreating back, wondering why he should feel guilt for not sharing the shame of his secret with her. Aye, she was his wife now, but not forever. Nor, thank God, would she be witness to the fateful day when his past finally confronted him.
“Drake,” Kieran began, snaring his attention once more. “Guilford worries for you. He is an old man now—”
“Not so old he cannot manipulate you into watching me more ably than a nanny.”
“That is so,” Kieran said with a laugh. “But Aric and I worry as well.”
“Do not. Aric has a new life with Gwenyth, while yours is that of a traveling soldier. Think of that.”
Kieran scowled. “We did not rescue you from Dunollie’s dungeon to watch you die.”
“Revenge will make me whole again,” argued Drake.
“Revenge can do naught but destroy you. Murdoch grows desperate and ruthless as the days become weeks,” Kieran warned.
Drake paused. “Where is he now?”
Kieran grimaced. “I could not say. ’Tis as if Murdoch knows someone brings you information, for suddenly his lips stay as tightly closed as a nun’s thighs.”
That fact filled Drake with dread, for Murdoch had never been a fool. “And Firtha knows nothing?”
“Even less than I.”
Drake smothered a curse. “Were you followed here?”
“I think not, but Murdoch is anxious. He suspects everyone.”
Drake shrugged his dim thoughts away. “Mayhap you should go elsewhere for awhile before returning.”
“Aye. Mayhap you should consider the same as a safeguard. I overheard he has doubled the number of men searching for you.”
Digesting that news with a slow nod, Drake answered, “’Tis no less than I expected, since I doubt he will give up now.”
Kieran sighed in frustration. “Nay, but what of you? Guilford and Aric think me reckless. But you, my friend, take risks I would not. Do you have naught else to live for?”
An image of Averyl in his arms this very morn, writhing against her own desire, flashed through his mind. Such was hopeless. She wanted what he could not give. She wanted love.
Gritting his teeth, he faced Kieran. “I have nothing beyond seeing Murdoch burn.”
Drake met Kieran’s disbelieving stare with a hard glare of his own.
“Then God have mercy upon your soul—and my hide. For when Guilford hears you mean to see this through, he will likely try to change the shape of my head with his mace.”
* * * * *
Kieran found Averyl sitting by the shimmering pool at the bottom of the ravine, throwing rocks into the clear blue depths.
Beside her, he eased onto the short grass and plucked a nearby wildflower. When she looked up in his direction, he handed the blossom to her. She took it without a word.
“This abduction has not been easy for you,” he began.
Averyl’s mouth pinched tightly, unhappily. She wore so many emotions upon her young face: hurt, hope, need, fear, anger. He hardly knew where one ended and the next began. Kieran wondered if she knew that herself.
And if what he suspected was true, Drake’s choice of a mate surprised him. But it pleased him as well. A woman capable of such feeling, and displaying them without caution, might be exactly what his isolated friend needed to find his soul again.
And that Averyl was lovely with her innocent eyes and fresh pink cheeks only made Kieran smile more.
“He makes such difficult, for both of us,” Averyl said.
“Of late, Drake has exceled in difficult, my lady. Fear not, he has a heart. He simply has trouble hearing it.”
Averyl’s head popped up and she turned her wide hazel gaze upon him. So much green. So much hope and sadness in so winsome a setting.
Kieran felt his interest stirring. He was, after all, a healthy man. Reminding himself this particular beauty was not his, he smiled.
Suddenly hope left her features. “He has no heart.”
“Nay, he would only like you—all of us—to believe such.”
She dropped her chin to her knees, now curled up to her chest. The waves and curls of her golden hair shimmered over her shoulders, past her waist, skimming her hips. No doubt, Drake was a lucky varlet to have felt the artless sensuality of her touch.
Beside her, he shifted his tight hose when Averyl spoke.
“It must be true. I can see no other way he can hold me with such need, as if naught else in the world matters, only to revile me come morn.”
The picture she created, along with the tears dusting her cheeks, made Kieran want to beat Drake senseless. Instead, he brushed her tears away with a thumb.
“As Aric’s wife, Gwenyth, would say, he is a fen-sucked swine and deserving of a swift kick.”
Averyl lifted her chin and laughed, her sudden smile brightening her face.
“That looks better on you, love.” He reached for her hand. When she gave it without condition, he squeezed it before raising it to his mouth for a kiss.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly.
A few feet behind Averyl, Kieran spotted Drake standing just outside the bushes. His friend’s black gaze fell upon Averyl’s loose curls, then her hand joined in his.
Raw fury settled on the abrupt angles of Drake’s face. Thankfully, Averyl saw him not. Kieran pretended that he had not seen his friend as well and hoped Drake would not charge in.
Disengaging his hand from hers, he placed it on his belly and rubbed. “I fear I’m famished.”
“’Twill be my pleasure to help you, since you have helped me,” she said, rising.
“You have my thanks, lass. I shall be along directly.”
After she made her way from the clearing, Kieran turned to his friend. “She is gone. You can come out now.”
Drake emerged into the clearing only to grab Kieran by his tunic and pull him to his feet. “You would seek to bed my wife?”
Kieran considered his answer carefully. Though a healthy dose of jealousy might make Drake see his feeling for Averyl, it might also make him run from such.
Drake roared, “She is not a woman you can chase for sport, to conquer without thought—”
“She is your woman, and I would never deny your claim. But if she is not a woman to conquer without thought, why do you believe she is a woman to conquer with hate?”
Drake regarded him with silence, scowling in uncertainty.
“Think carefully on that,” Kieran advised, then returned to the cottage.
* * * * *
“I received word from Guilford last week,” Kieran said over their simple supper of fish and leeks.
Drake did not reply but merely glanced at his friend. Averyl wondered at his silence, which grew each minute.
“Aric does well with the new king, Henry. His skill as a warrior is valued,” remarked Kieran.
“As it should be,” Drake finally replied.
Then his eyes flickered across her face before returning to his meal.
“You speak true,” said Kieran. “And Aric makes a fine diplomat as well, which King Henry has discovered and put to good use with those left in the House of York who would make war upon the throne.”
In answer, Drake merely nodded.
“And it seems Gwenyth makes him addle-witted with her want of a babe.”
Again, Drake glanced at her. This time, Averyl felt his gaze burn across her mouth, her breasts, her belly, before it slid away. “They will raise a babe well.”
“Aye, ’tis the getting of one that seems to be the trouble. Gwenyth is impatient to conceive—and insistent that Aric help her as often as he can spare a moment.”
Finally, Drake directed a frown at Kieran. “And he complains of this?”
Kieran laughed.
Averyl flushed hotly when Drake’s stare passed over her once more. She looked away, only to see Kieran watching her, the smile on his mouth turning questioning.
“Aric claims exhaustion,” Kieran said, “but never displeasure. And what of you? Any thoughts of a babe?”
“Nay!” exclaimed Averyl.
“’Tis not possible,” said Drake at the same time.
Silence fell across the table as they looked at one another. Averyl gripped her eating knife in her hand, absorbing the desire burning in Drake’s black eyes. She glared in return.
“Soon that will change,” Drake added.
“Never.” Pushing her trencher away, Averyl rose from her chair. “Pardon me,” she murmured to Kieran, then made for the door.
Emptiness gaped within Averyl as she realized Drake still wanted only to ease his lust. His heart did not call to hers and never would. She had known thus, but to be so reminded pained her.
She had no more made her way past the table when Drake followed, gripping her arm. “We have not finished with our meal.”
“I am finished.” Averyl hoped he understood she meant not only her supper.
After a stiff, silent moment, Drake slipped his hand around her waist and brought her against his chest and the pounding of his heart. The urgency in his hands flowed into her body. A part of her longed to melt against him, to take the affection he surprisingly gave in that moment. But turmoil prevailed in her heart. Naught would change if she gave in. Drake wanted her available to his hunger, while he gave naught of himself. And if she let him, he’d shatter her heart—if he had not already.
“Release me,” she whispered, hoping he could not see the tears gathering in her eyes.
Against her, Drake’s body went taut and unwelcoming. A moment later, he stepped away.
“You cannot run forever.”
Averyl jerked open the door. “I have no need. You will discard me soon enough.”
Stomach clenched with pain and fury, she slammed the door, knowing she must put him out of her heart—or admit that she had fallen in love.
* * * * *
As the door trembled in the portal, Drake stood mute. Disbelief, shock, and anger warred in his gut, along with something that felt like pain. He cursed, raking a hand through his hair. Did she no longer care about him? Had she ever cared at all? Had her fickle affection turned to his friend?
A moment later, he felt a heavy gaze upon him from across the room. When he turned about, he was surprised by Kieran’s questioning stare. With Averyl rejection, a rejection that cut him deeply, he had forgotten his friend. But Kieran’s expression said he had been watching carefully his exchange with Averyl.
Slowly, Kieran spoke. “You care for your hostage bride a great deal.”
“She is troublesome in her defiance and difficult in her insistence upon love,” Drake defended.
“That may be so. But the care upon your face, your urge to hold her for something other than sex, bespeaks feeling. ’Tis plain you are not indifferent.”
Gritting his teeth, Drake made his way back to his chair and sank into it. “I wish to God I were.”
Kieran leaned across the table, shaking his head. “The woman you held, your wife, there is your something to live for.”
Drake steeled himself against the hope Kieran’s words brought. “She is merely an ablach, a pawn.”
The other man’s disbelieving smile grated on Drake’s nerves. “Yet still you seek to hold her close, even when not bedding her. You seek to keep her only for yourself. Many years I have known you and never seen you display such a want.”
“I—” Drake began as he rose and paced. “She…”
“You would not show such emotion if she meant naught to you.”
“What say you?” Drake demanded. “That I grow soft?”
Kieran smiled. “Nay, my friend. I say you love her.”