Roderick didn’t know who had to concentrate more. Pupil or teacher?
Sitting close to Annabel, inches from that lush, rosy, mobile mouth as she repeated each of the short and long vowels, had him almost forget he’d offered to teach her to read, and not stare at her as if admiring a painting he’d commissioned.
She followed his lead, focusing on his face and diligently repeating the letters as he sounded each one. Her lips formed a perfect O in sounding the fourth vowel. Selfish pleasure had him make her repeat it several times, if only to stare at her mouth.
When he sounded the next long vowel, her tongue darted out to circle and moisten her lips. That had him catch his breath and caused him discomfort in breeches suddenly too tight. He shifted in the chair. Doing that intensified the pressure in the appendage, giving him grief.
Yellow-green eyes lifted to meet his. ‘Sound it again.’
He made a mental groan. And this was only lesson one. The Devil take him! His throat moved on a dry swallow. ‘U,’ he repeated on a raspy breath.
Her gaze fell to the shape he formed with his mouth. She mimicked the sound, her lips forming a perfect pout. It was all he could do not to snake his hand around the back of her neck, pull her close and kiss her senseless.
Literacy be damned!
‘Is something wrong?’ There was confusion in her eyes.
‘No. Nothing is wrong.’
‘Then why are ye looking at me like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like … I’m making puir progress.’ Disappointment showed in the downturn of her full-lipped mouth. Winged eyebrows dipped in a frown.
The lass had no idea of the marked effect she had on him. He found her innocence endearing, a beguiling lure. ‘On the contrary, Annabel, you’re a fast learner. Here, I’ll point to the letters.’ He indicated the picture book opened on the desk. ‘See if you remember which is which. Sound out the long or short version of that vowel, and say a word beginning with that vowel.’
His positive encouragement set a confident smile on her face. She gave an eager nod and turned her attention to the book he’d used as a child. Roderick had a mind to perch her on his knee and place an affectionate arm around her waist, just as his father had done when teaching him to read. The pleasant memory reminded Roderick of his father’s softer side.
He pointed in random sequence to each of the five vowels. Annabel followed through as he’d instructed, pausing now and then to give thought to her answers.
He’d been wrong to think ill of her, that she’d entered the library for the purpose of spying, or to rifle through papers, estate accounts and matters of confidentiality on the desk. Learning she was illiterate set his mind at ease and allayed his misguided suspicions. Although something still niggled. He couldn’t help but feel there was more to her being here at Finvreck than just escaping a black-hearted, insensitive, overbearing father.
Adding to that, she couldn’t read or write, so what attraction did the library hold for her? Solitude? Perhaps it was no more than a convenient room in which to hide from his man, whose job it had been to follow and monitor her whereabouts at all times. Or had she genuinely been drawn to the books, to the written word, wishing to read and understand the stories and information secreted between the pages?
There was the question, too, of her miraculous and much improved health.
Annabel MacDonald was quite an interesting, if not intriguing, charmer. One, he determined, who would sit comfortably well on his arm no matter the place or occasion. A charm he would reluctantly let go of should another man challenge him for her attention.
The mind-jolting revelation sent Roderick’s gaze to her profile, to the curve of her forehead and a slender nose evenly proportioned by high cheekbones.
They’d been in the library for over an hour. Late afternoon sunlight skimmed the crown of her head, reflecting burnished strands of red-gold hair. Sitting this close to her, he could see faint freckles dappled on clear, snowy-skinned cheeks.
Roderick indulged in a slow, deep breath to inhale her scent and was immediately reminded of the outdoors. Of the ocean and salt-sea air, lush green grass, a babbling brook and a bed of heather.
The lass embodied all that was the wild beauty of the Scottish Highlands with yet so much more left for him to discover. Now that he’d tasted her very essence, he had the urge to explore every inch of her body. The seam at his crotch suddenly threatened to tear.
Her long slender fingers touched her right ear, tucking a springy curl behind it. Slowly, her head turned. She met his gaze. ‘I cannae think of any words that begin with a long U.’
The timid-sounding statement pulled him from his thoughts. ‘A long U?’
‘Aye.’ A quick flush dyed her fair skin. Her eyes indicated the book at his hand.
He hadn’t realised how intensely he’d been staring at her. At what point had he lost focus, ditching long and short vowels in favour of admiring her perfect profile? He roused himself to concentrate, to provide an answer to her question.
The answer came to mind. A mythical creature. Medieval forbearers believed it to be a symbol of grace and purity. Much like the lass who looked upon him now, eagerly awaiting his answer. ‘Unicorn.’
‘Unicorn,’ she repeated.
He glanced down to the shape of her lips and inched closer, drawn to the peaks of her cupid’s bow. ‘Unite.’
‘Unite.’ Her diligent focus shifted, her eyes and attention now solely on his mouth.
Roderick’s heart smacked against his chest with the power of a wave crashing against the jagged shoreline. He leaned in a fraction more. ‘Unique.’ Did he imagine her edging closer?
‘Unique.’ She sounded out of breath and her voice had grown all at once very soft.
Roderick’s skin tingled, sensitive to the whisper of her breath on his face. He dared to tilt his head to one side and move so close that their lips, and only their lips, almost touched. ‘Union.’
Her gaze remained fixed on his mouth. Long-lashed eyelids fluttered closed. She whispered the word just as Roderick imprinted his mouth on hers with the lightness of a butterfly’s footing on a rose.
He held still, savouring her soft and warm lips, dreading the moment she might recoil from him. To his surprise, she didn’t move. He stole an eye-slitted glimpse of her face to see her eyes remained closed. He moved his mouth back and forth over hers like the faintest of brush strokes on a canvas of silk.
It was the most chaste, slow, sensual kiss he’d ever initiated and enjoyed. A wonder he’d not likely forget.
Her lips parted on a sweet sigh. He lightly pressed his lips to one corner of her mouth and then the other. Never had his pulse quickened so fast from just a kiss.
He pulled back a fraction, pleased when she leaned forwards to press closed lips more firmly against his. Lord but he had to taste her!
Once more he pulled back to look at her and cupped his hand to her cheek. Long-lashed eyelids lifted as if from a deep sleep. She held his gaze. Roderick stroked her lower lip with his thumb. Her mouth parted and she leaned into his palm. How it pleased him to know she accepted his touch.
He bent to her, skimming his mouth over hers while shifting his hand to the back of her neck to then support her head. His tongue glided between the seam of her lips. Annabel momentarily tensed. Roderick’s mouth hovered a hair’s-breadth from hers. He waited for her to recover from what must have been for her a most curious sensation.
When he sensed she’d relaxed, he again ran his tongue slowly between her lips, dipping into the moist, velvety recess of her mouth. She tasted as pure as a mountain stream and as sweet as the nectar from a Highland honey bee. She’d given life to his lust as if it were the very first time he understood it. Lust fuelled his thirst for her. He danced his tongue over hers with the same slow measure of a courtly minuet.
And she happily let him lead, rising to her feet when he stood, still engaged in the kiss. Her fingers found and clawed his waistcoat. When he took one step to align his body with hers, she instinctively flattened her forearms against his chest.
Only then did he lift his head, allowing her a moment to catch her breath. He rained soft kisses over her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, returning to her mouth where his tongue explored a little deeper. The vibration of her moan inside his mouth sent another rush of blood to his groin and started a buzzing in his ears.
He feared he’d lose all self-control if he didn’t terminate this excruciatingly sweet diversion. By strength of will, Roderick broke the kiss on a silent curse. It took a few seconds for her lids to fully open. Her clouded stare reminded him of laudanum-laced eyes.
‘Is that the long or the short of it?’ Her question came on a breathy whisper.
Roderick’s foggy mind hadn’t yet cleared enough to make sense of what she was asking. ‘The long or short of what?’ he rasped, thinking she made bold reference to his hard sex pressed against her body.
‘If that kiss were a vowel, would ye deem it long or short?’
He almost laughed aloud. Here he was, grappling with his desire for her, to recover from their intimacy, and she focused firmly on the literacy lessons at hand.
Vowel technicalities aside, her question gave him good reason to suspect she’d never been kissed. A delightful discovery. For some unfathomable reason, he hoped he’d been her first, and determined to be the last and only man to ever sample her lips.
‘A vowel is sounded in several ways, whereas a kiss has no specific guidelines or set of rules. It is what or where on your person you want it to be. For as brief or as long as you wish it to be.’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes fell to his mouth. ‘I see.’ A deep frown suggested she considered his reply.
She retreated a step. Roderick’s fingertips lightly brushed her cheeks, unwilling to let her go. Several more steps and she manoeuvred back between the chair and the desk. When she stopped, out of reach, he let his hands fall slowly at his sides.
She lifted her gaze to his. ‘And … what did ye want our kiss to be?’
Damn but if the woman wasn’t holding him accountable for his actions. In the past, he’d never given thought to why he’d kissed women. He’d simply done so because the opportunity was there with no long-term commitment or emotional strings attached. The worst of it was knowing this kiss heralded a resounding consequence.
It left him wanting more.
‘Spontaneous,’ he replied, being the truth of it.
She approved his answer with a slow nod. ‘Why did ye kiss me?’
Attraction fuelled it. Lust demanded it. ‘A moment of weakness.’ This earned him another nod, as if he were successfully passing a test or interview.
‘Do ye foresee other such moments between us?’
‘If you will allow it, yes, but more importantly, did you enjoy it?’
Her gaze dropped to the corner of the desk to a pile of papers, which she set her hands on, her fingers working to realign what was already tidy and straight. She looked away and strolled around the desk towards the library door.
Her silence was an attack on Roderick’s pride. Disappointment had never hurt so bad. He’d have described their kiss as utterly pleasurable and confessed unto himself his attraction to Annabel. In fact, he grappled with the urge to lay her down on the chaise and to press his mouth to a certain part of her body, leaving her in no doubt as to the pleasure a kiss could bring.
Had she tested him? Had she indeed been kissed before and found his technique wanting? It was the second occasion while in her company that his pride had taken a beating.
A confounding and unhealthy obsession stirred his soul. His hands flexed. He watched her open the door and turn. She appeared to be a confident person by nature, but was his question too candid for one who now looked at him with the most reserved and shyest of smiles? A gentleman did not ask such questions of a lady. His Highland lady.
‘Annabel, I’m sorry—’
‘Aye, Laird. I enjoyed it. Verra much. It was …’ A deep blush infused her cheeks.
‘Yes?’ Damn but if he didn’t hang on her every word.
‘My first kiss.’
She swept from the library, closing the door quietly behind her. Something in Roderick’s mindset shifted. Something that made him see Annabel McDonald in a new light. Just days ago, she’d pounced and sharpened her claws on him, he being at the receiving end of her defensive, feisty spirit, but here in the library he’d kissed the lips of a vulnerable innocent. A woman of quick intelligence. A woman who, if he read her right, was as equally enamoured with the meeting of their lips as he.
One kiss. One taste. One simple, infectious sampling of her mouth and Roderick’s mind was all aclutter. That in itself was a first, for him. Given time, he’d extend her trust in him and teach her to enjoy lessons of the carnal kind.
* * *
It was indeed her first kiss and Annabel had enjoyed it. Too much. More than she should have and had therefore suffered a wretched night’s sleep tossing one way and turning another. A feather pillow could only be beaten into so many shapes and yet not one prone or side position had given her rest or comfort.
Adding to her misery, she had only to close her eyes to see the haunting look on her mother’s prematurely lined face. Deep-set, dull-brown eyes delivered a distressing warning. Let nae man touch ye, my child. A daughter’s promise to her mother. A dying woman’s mantra in Annabel’s arms.
A mantra that pricked her conscience and was not so easily reconciled with the fact of the enigmatic Roderick MacLeod remaining uppermost in her mind. When her lips still tingled from his exploratory kiss and when, even now, his clean musky scent and taste enlivened her senses.
Annabel saw herself as a darkened, closed-off room with its windows suddenly thrown open to let in light and exhilarating fresh air. Roderick’s lips on hers was like having taken her first breath, now desperate to gulp in another. To inhale a little deeper. Hold it a little longer. What would it be like to venture outside that room and seek what her mother had always warned her against?
Intimacy. A man’s touch.
The burden of guilt slammed a door on those thoughts, a harsh reminder that she’d failed to keep her word. Reflecting on it now, she’d have said or agreed to anything to ease the trauma of her mother’s drawn-out mental suffering. If not for voicing the promise, Annabel would not have seen the longed-for serene smile on her mother’s face before drawing her last breath, finally at peace. In some ways, so was Annabel.
She sat up and tossed aside the woollen bed blanket, an action she must do with Roderick MacLeod should he try to kiss her again. Let him summon her company as and when he pleased, otherwise she’d keep fair distance between them.
Someone knocked. She turned as Jessie entered with a tray which she laid on a table beneath the window. ‘Freshly baked bannocks and watered wine,’ she said, followed by a gasp when she took in Annabel’s appearance. ‘Ye look like ye’ve nae slept in weeks!’
‘Aye. And I feel it too.’
Jessie dashed to her side and pressed the back of her hand to Annabel’s forehead. ‘What’s wrong? Are ye genuinely unwell?’
Annabel laughed at the maid’s emphasis on the word genuinely. ‘Nae. I’m fine.’ She jumped to her feet and drew the curtain aside.
If her maid only knew. Best she didn’t. It was one thing to have told Jessie about yesterday’s impromptu literary lessons with the laird, but it was another to mention anything of their kiss. There’d be no end to lively interrogation. Talking about the pleasurable liaison would only make Annabel crave it more. Better to tuck away the memory in the past and forget about it.
‘Vowels.’ Annabel sighed. It was partly the truth. ‘Long and short. Last night the sounds turned faster in my brain than churning butter in a barrel.’ That, and memories of Roderick MacLeod’s sinful lips.
‘Oh! How frightful.’
Not quite.
‘Is that why ye insisted on eating in yer room last night?’
‘Aye. I didnae want to alarm ye at the time, but my head pounded something severe. The idea of eating in the great hall, with all that clatter and chatter would have made it much worse.’
‘Ye should have said something. Morag would have—’
‘I would have what?’ The castle’s housekeeper stood in the open doorway, having taken up her usual stance of hands on hips. Her sharp eyes looked from one young woman to the other. ‘Weel? I would have what?’
‘Fixed a herbal remedy last night to ease the pounding in my head,’ said Annabel.
‘Perhaps I can fetch ye something now, lass. A meadowsweet elixir will do the trick.’
‘Nae. Thank ye. I might look a little worse for wear but,’ she pointed to the window, ‘my head is as clear as the day outside.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it, and so will be the laird. He’s sent me to tell ye he has business out and about today and requests ye ride with him.’ She nodded at Jessie. ‘When yer mistress is done eating, make haste with getting her dressed.’
‘Wait!’ called Annabel as Morag turned to leave. ‘Are ye sure he said requests, and nae expects?’
The housekeeper looked puzzled at this. ‘Does it matter how he phrased it?’
Aye, it does. Last night, Annabel had apprised Jessie of her new understanding with Roderick MacLeod, but she was not about to explain it to Morag.
Morag narrowed her eyes at Annabel. ‘I do believe he said requests, but it’s nae for ye to question the master’s choice of words. I’d have thought ye, of all people, would jump at the chance of looking in on young Thomas.’
‘Thomas! Of course I want to see him.’
‘Then get on with ye. Both of ye!’
Jessie sprang into action before Morag had closed the door. ‘Eat up and I’ll make ready with yer clothes. I ken ye’ll be wanting to see the wee lad and he’ll be just as pleased to see ye.’
Annabel took a bite of the warm crust of bread, dropped it back onto the tray, and removed her nightshift. Jessie worked quickly with the methodical layering of her sark, stockings, petticoats, stays, woollen skirt and lacing leather ankle boots.
Jessie shoved the bannock back into Annabel hands and gestured to the stool in front of the mirror. ‘Eat while I do something with yer unruly hair.’
Annabel complied while Jessie extolled the benevolent traits of the laird, for him having recognised the fractured relationship between Annabel and her father, and for extending her the invitation to stay indefinitely at Finvreck.
‘Even if he willnae honour the proxy marriage, mistress, humouring him with yer company when he expects it is a small price to pay in exchange for a life here.’
The maid’s eyes were alight with mischief as she caught Annabel’s gaze in the mirror. ‘I suspect, just quietly, the laird’s motivation for doing so is because he’s taken a shining to ye.’
‘Dinnae be ridiculous! I’ve nae more caught his eye than I’m liable to grow wings.’
‘Weel, obliging his request and spending time with him outside these stone walls will serve to cement yersel in his good graces.’
Annabel swallowed the food in her mouth. ‘That’s not why I’m accompanying him today. He kens I’d nae pass up the opportunity to visit Thomas. Besides, I’m free to see the boy whene’er I wish.’
‘Aye. Ye are, but the laird didnae have to tell ye where he was going now, did he? He’s shown himself to be considerate of ye by inviting ye to ride with him.’ Jessie tied a length of thong at the base of the plait, dashed to the door and opened it. ‘There now. Off ye go. And will ye please try to enjoy yersel?’
Annabel took a sip of the watered wine and stared at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Dinnae hope for something that can ne’er be.’
‘There’s always hope, mistress. Where would we be without it?’
Annabel shook her head at the maid’s optimism and left the room. She hurried down corridors and stairwells until she at last reached the outer courtyard. There, she saw four saddled horses and Roderick conversing with two men, one of whom looked alarmingly familiar.
Torrential rain from the recent storm had turned the ground into a boggy quagmire. Annabel lifted the hem of her skirts and picked her way forwards. The muddy surface squelched beneath her boots.
‘Morning to you, lass.’ Roderick’s blue eyes lit up at the sight of her, sending a rush of heat to her cheeks. Her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth in remembrance of their kiss.
‘Morning, Laird,’ she said, fussing with her shawl and wrapping it tighter around her shoulders. ‘I understand ye’ll be paying Thomas and his family a visit.’
‘Aye. That and offering our assistance to some of the cottars who need it. We’ll be gone for the best part of the day, but first we’ll call in to see how the young lad and his parents are faring.’ Roderick pointed to the saddlebags. ‘We’ll not be going empty-handed. Morag’s loaded us up with a fine feast. You’re free to spend the entire day with us, or, should you prefer it, I’ll have one of my men escort you back here.’
‘I dinnae need an escort. I can take care of myself.’
‘I’ll not have you ride or walk alone outside the protection of Finvreck and that is an order not to be disobeyed.’
Pointless arguing with him. In the name of her cause, it was an order she would disobey time and time again. Guilt became an oppressive burden.
By way of introduction, Roderick looked to the men standing either side of him. ‘I’d like you to meet my two closest friends.’ He touched the shoulder of the man on his left. ‘This gentle giant here is Darach.’
Darach smiled with kind eyes and tucked his thumbs into his belt. ‘Mistress.’
Annabel returned his greeting with a nod, taking in his great hulking height and muscular build.
Roderick ruffled the hair of the man to his right. ‘And this scruffy oaf is Gillis.’
Annabel recognised him without a doubt. The blue-grey bruise on his forehead marked the spot where she’d struck him with a pewter tankard.
He made a keen study of her and frowned. ‘Have we met before, lass?’
‘Officially? Nae.’
Gillis rubbed his chin. ‘Officially suggests we may have at least sighted each other.’
‘Perhaps we have, although I’m nae likely to forget anyone ill-blessed with the same outlandish red hair as my own.’
Gillis sounded a concessional grunt and touched his bruised forehead. Annabel had thought the man too foxed on whisky to have retained any details of their altercation two evenings ago.
‘Ill-blessed you say?’ Roderick looked as if it were he whom she’d insulted. ‘Outlandishly glorious on you, lass. Not so with Gillis here.’
Annabel had not expected the public, and very candid compliment, nor intense admiration as the laird swept his gaze over the crown of her head. Roderick MacLeod considered her hair an appealing trait. The idea of it empowered her confidence.
‘Best we get going then,’ he announced.
Gillis and Darach promptly mounted their horses.
Roderick stroked the neck of the mare beside him. ‘This one’s yours, lass.’ He beckoned to Annabel. ‘Come.’
She stepped forwards. Roderick’s hands spanned her waist. In that moment she breathed him in, immediately lost in his eyes.
‘This horse has a temperament much like your own.’ He lifted Annabel with ease into the saddle.
Before she could ask him to explain himself, he swung up onto his mount and said, ‘She’s strong-willed and spirited.’
Annabel gathered up the reins. ‘Better that than to be spineless and docile.’
His eyes held a hint of devilish humour. ‘Aye. I wouldn’t have you any other way.’
Have? Her? A kiss was one thing, but surely he didn’t mean he desired her the way a man desires a woman?
He kicked his heels against the horse’s flanks and set off. Annabel saw the way Gillis and Darach glanced at her. The men exchanged a knowing look, grinned and followed their laird, leaving her to follow. When she looked ahead, at Roderick, a sudden, and not unpleasant, heat spread throughout her entire body.
One sharp flick of the reins sent the mare into a lively trot. She followed the men beneath the portcullis and caught sight of Roderick’s broad, straight back. His raven hair gleamed beneath the morning sun. Strong thighs drew her gaze and soon her mind imagined things she had no business entertaining.
Things she’d never have considered had he not entered her life. And had he not kissed her … Had she not enjoyed it, yearning to repeat the moment …
Where once she had associated intimacy with personal degradation, she now viewed it with an element of wondrous curiosity. All she need do was to look at Roderick MacLeod and butterflies scattered in her belly. Her heart raced. A feeling of breathlessness would overcome her as if she’d traversed the forest for days on foot. Most of all, she felt comfortably safe in his presence.
Her mother’s disapproving face flashed before her eyes.
‘Annabel.’
A tap on her shoulder jolted her back to reality. Only then did she realise she rode alongside the laird. It was he who’d called her name, not her mother’s ghost. He who’d gently nudged her from deep thought.
She twisted in the saddle to see Gillis and Darach riding abreast behind them. Their sheepish grins raised her suspicions. Pure chance had nothing to do with her horse falling in with Roderick’s.
‘You looked as if you were many miles away.’ His voice was like a warm breeze sweeping over her.
Annabel took a deep breath and stared at the well-trod road ahead. ‘Aye. I was.’
‘You looked to be struggling with something.’
She sent him a sidelong glance. ‘How could ye possibly ken?’
‘You chewed your lip and then smiled. You blushed. The colour drained from your face and a moment later you frowned.’
Were her emotions so transparent? She was used to her cheeks heating from humiliation, from being criticised and corrected by her father, not because of private amorous thoughts about the man at her side. A man whose compliments and attention made her feel better about herself, not to mention dizzy.
Annabel looked away, lest he see clear through her eyes to conjured images of the two of them locked in an embrace.
‘Care to discuss it?’ he said.
She looked at him, ‘Nae,’ and quickly looked away.
‘Are you sure, lass? I’d want to know if there was something bothering you. Perhaps I can help.’
Bothering her? The memory of his touch bothered her to the point of distraction. Their kiss had stirred feelings in her she didn’t understand. Her body craved something she couldn’t comprehend and intense awareness of the Laird of Clan MacLeod grew with every moment spent in his company. She could no more stop her growing feelings for him than she could turn the tide with the next full moon.
‘Nae, all’s weel. I assure ye.’ Another lie. Another layer of guilt.
‘The offer remains should you have a mind to seek my council.’
He sounded genuine enough, but how could she tell the man to his face she was infatuated with him? That she fantasised about him. That she was torn between having him bed her and keeping a promise to her mother. And as for the truth behind that promise? That secret she’d take to the grave.
Her gaze drifted to yonder snow-capped peaks on rugged mountains. It had been a while since she’d ventured into the mystical forests with their soul-bracing scents, deep lochs and majestic red deer. Perhaps there she could cleanse her mind of the man riding beside her.
The screech of an eagle drew her gaze skyward. The bird’s large wing span took it higher on the breeze. Annabel looked down at the sudden firm grip of Roderick’s hand on her arm. He raised his other hand to signal and bring them all to a halt. There was grave concern in his eyes. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
He glanced back at Darach and Gillis, and again at her, and then nodded in the direction they travelled. ‘Redcoats!’