Chapter Thirty-Six
She’d missed him. Oh, how she’d missed him. She kissed his face while he carried her to her bed. She refused to waste another moment worrying about the future with or without him. This was a moment they had together and she wouldn’t let it pass. They’d wasted too much time already.
They undressed each other with eager hands and heavy breath, pulling and tugging on fabric, almost tearing it away to expose skin they longed to kiss.
Poised atop her on the bed, his mouth covered hers, caressing her, molding to her. He filled her with his tongue, stroking her with deep, erotic possession while his hands freed her from the last of her clothes. She cried out at the caress of his masterful touch and trembled in his arms, ready and willing to give him whatever he asked.
He asked for her body, freely given, and she gave it, coiling her legs around his waist while he guided himself into her. She held him close, relishing the intimacy of his breath on her chin, her cheek, as he thrust himself deep inside her. He moved slowly, savoring the feel of her. His whispers along her throat and jaw thrilled her and brought tears to her eyes, for he told her what she meant to him.
“Everything. You are everything to me, my life, my joy, my pain.”
She took his face in her hands while he filled her and stretched her to her limit. She kissed every inch of his face, wetting him with her tears.
“And ye are the passion that warms my blood, my dreams come to life. I love ye. I love ye.”
The smile he gave her melted her to her core. He moved like they had the rest of their lives together, with long, titillating strokes, every touch a caress. She outlined the muscles of his chest with her fingertips, her lips, tempting him to suckle her in return. He withdrew, then sank deep into her again and again, as careless as she of the consequences.
Let the Duchess of Blackburn find out about them, Abby could protect herself, and if the wench tried to hurt Daniel, Abby would kill her. Her clan had been in trouble with the English before and made it through. They would again.
She clung to him while they both climaxed. If she carried his seed, so be it. She would have a part of him with her no matter what happened.
He didn’t try to pull away but held her and watched her while she gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out too loudly in ecstasy.
A little while later she lay in his arms, her breath short against his chest. She wanted to die here, just like this. Could she leave everything behind for this man? Her clan, her dreams and desires of being chief—for him?
Aye, she could.
She thought she wasn’t sure. But she knew she could. She would. She would do anything for him. Her heart was utterly lost to him, no matter how she tried to deny it. Leading her clan would mean nothing if he wasn’t in her life. Hadn’t her own mother given up the throne for her father?
She felt bad for Nora but Cameron MacPherson led a dangerous life by his own choice. Why should Abby fight with Daniel over him?
“D’ye think Cameron MacPherson has something to do with the queen’s disappearance?”
Because her ear was pressed against Daniel’s chest, she heard his heart accelerate again. He loved Anne.
“If he does, he won’t live long.”
Abby closed her eyes. He would never leave Anne’s side, even if he believed James Stuart’s claim to the throne. Abby would expect nothing less from him.
“D’ye think the queen lives, Daniel?” Abby hoped she did.
“Yes. I think someone holds her for ransom and we will hear from him or her soon. Whoever it is will regret ever laying a hand on her.”
Abby nodded and closed her eyes to sleep. Daniel would save the queen. God help whoever had her.
The queen sat propped up against four thick pillows in her bed at the brothel. A brothel! That truth still stunned her each time she thought about it. She’d never been in a brothel before and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in one now, especially when she shared the room with seven Highlanders. And it wasn’t like these were straggly, toothless brutes who spent too much time with their whisky and sweet cakes. No, these men, three of whom were closer to her own age, were in magnificent physical condition. She could tell by their muscular legs below their plaids and the way their shirts pulled across their chests and thick upper arms. Three of them had to duck every time they entered the room.
They were nothing like what she’d been told about men of the North. They barely raised their voices, and when they did it was at one another, not at her.
They did everything in their power to make her comfortable, including feeding her and paying two of the girls who lived here to change her bedpans and see to her feminine needs.
She still didn’t know who they were or why they were helping her, but she was beginning not to care. Their good-natured bickering made her smile more times than she had since her dear husband died. They were all kind and respectful to her. Tristan seemed to have mastered the art of charm and since she knew much about honor from Daniel, she recognized the same from Tristan. Odd to think of a Jacobite Highlander practicing honor, but lord, he did. Still, it was Rob who sat by her bed every night and talked to her about her life, curious to know the details of it and if she was happy or not.
She lay in a bed inside a brothel. (Tristan swore to her that the bed linens were the cleanest in the place.) At night she shared her bed with a 150-pound dog that smelled like earth and something else less pleasant, but bearable. Her broken bones were wrapped and set and the rest of her bruises were healing nicely, thanks to the care of Jacobites, and the food they fed her wasn’t as terrible as she would have imagined—if she’d ever imagined herself held captive in a brothel.
She expected to wake up any moment now.
The door opened and at the foot of her bed, Ettarre growled from deep in her throat as Rob entered the room with another man she’d never seen before.
No. She was wrong. She had seen him once before… when he was pointing a pistol at her face.
He was almost unrecognizable, with eyelids swollen shut and torn lips. He’d been beaten, likely by the one they called Darach, his angelic features belied only by the feral glint in his emerald eyes.
“Cameron MacPherson, Yer Majesty,” Rob introduced him, then pulled him closer.
Anne shrank back in her bed and Tristan appeared and took her hand.
“Dinna’ be afraid of him any longer, aye?”
She nodded, but kept her eyes on the man who caused her injuries. “Why have you brought him to me?”
“Tell her!” Rob gave him a hard shake. “Tell her or I’ll cut ye in half and feed ye to my dogs.”
Ettarre growled again and Goliath, the biggest and the blackest of the four, sat up and barked, as if begging for the promised treat.
“He offered me land and a title and—”
“Tell her!” Rob held his blade to MacPherson’s throat.
“Tell her who offered ye land and a title and coin!”
“The Earl of Manchester. Yer very own cousin.” He grinned down at the queen, exposing two lost teeth. “He supports James Stuart, the true king. Not a usurper who gained the throne by—”
He slammed his mouth shut when the edge of Rob’s blade pierced his skin and drew blood.
“Take him back to the stables, Darach.”
Anne watched them leave, then looked away from the others staring at her. Richard. Her cousin. She wasn’t shocked, but it still stung.
She lifted her glossy eyes to Rob and saw compassion and anger for her. She shrugged one shoulder and managed a smile. She was the queen, after all. She couldn’t fall apart every time someone betrayed her.
“General Marlow had informed me of Richard’s treachery, but I imagine I needed to hear it with my own ears. Now I have. It’s one thing to know you mean little to your family and another to discover that they tried to have you killed.”
The Highlanders were all quiet, but they nodded in agreement. Rob sat in his chair—the one between her bedside and the hearth. He waited while Tristan fed her some medicine that tasted like sweet mint and spirits.
She knew by now that Rob was the leader among these men. He spoke with authority and all the others obeyed him. She recognized his command and thought he would make an excellent general under Daniel.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked him when he motioned to his brother and Tristan left them alone and rejoined the others playing a game of chess. “You’re all Jacobites. So why? Why didn’t you let MacPherson finish what he came to do?”
“Ye’re the queen,” Rob said simply. Anne didn’t believe it was as simple as that.
“A queen you don’t support.”
He smiled slightly and she thought he was quite possibly the most handsome man she knew… besides Daniel.
“While ’tis true we support James Stuart’s claim to the throne, I dinna’ believe killin’ ye is the right way to get him there. Besides that, my wife and mother would kill me fer harming a woman.”
His smile softened and for some mad reason it made her want to weep all the more. She decided to ask him the question that had been burning a hole in her mind.
“What do you plan on doing with me?”
“To begin,” he told her, “I’m goin’ to make certain ye’re well before I return ye to St. James’s Palace.”
A flood of relief washed over her upon hearing that she would be returned, but it made no sense why they would help her. “Are you going to hold me for ransom in an attempt to sit my stepbrother on the throne?”
He shook his head. “Though ’twould be a good plan, I think this is one dispute over the monarchy that my kin will stay oot of.”
“In truth,” she said, trying not to sound as dejected as she felt. She failed. “I don’t know that it would be that big of a dispute. I have very few true friends.”
He lifted a raven brow at her. “What about General Marlow? Everyone in Great Britain knows of his dedication to ye.”
She nodded and let her eyes fill with tears. “Yes, he is loyal to me. But I kept the truth of his birth hidden from him his whole life and now someone else has told him.”
Rob turned to share a look with Tristan and Will, but he said nothing to her about his decision. Instead, he asked her more questions.
“Ye’ve nae other family who care aboot ye?”
She thought about telling him about Davina. She’d never told a soul, not even Daniel. What would this Highlander say about it? “I’ve recently taken a distant relative into my house as a handmaiden. But she also supports James.”
He sat up straighter in his chair when she spoke about Abigail. “Has she been treated well?” he asked. “Mayhap ye could change her mind aboot where her loyalties lie.”
“She’s been treated very well by me, and by General Marlow, who I think may have feelings for her. She’s kind-hearted and quite beautiful, but I don’t think there is room for trust on either side.”
“Why not?”
“She believes I wish her family harm and I’m not certain her family doesn’t want me dead and out of the way.”
“D’ye? Wish her family harm?”
“No. I simply fear even more people in my life wanting to depose or kill me for my title. Wouldn’t you be a bit afraid?” She eyed the span of his shoulders and smiled. “Or at least uneasy?”
He smiled with her and nodded. Hell, it was good to hear her speak so. If she had admitted to wanting Davina dead, he would leave her to her enemies. But he was beginning to think all Anne wanted was people in her life whom she could trust.
They spoke for another hour, mostly about the people in her life, and she shared with him her love for her country and her desire to see it prosper. They also spoke of Richard and what his plans were. The Highlanders had cleverly planted a few of their own men into his company. That was how they had known what MacPherson was up to.
That night, Anne slept soundly, safely surrounded by a band of warriors who had saved her life.