Gahan kept them at a hard pace. He was racing the sun and knew it. But he didn’t push the horses past their endurance. He was everything a noble son should be, everything a leader should be. Moira could see that his men followed not just because his blood was blue, but also because he knew how to lead them. As a result of his careful management, the miles fell behind them quickly. They crossed onto MacLeod land, and the tops of the keep came into sight.
The fields around MacLeod Keep were already being turned. Men were working the plows as the troop of men rode past. They looked up, most of them taking the opportunity to wipe their brows. The scent of newly broken earth tickled Moira’s nose, but it was a good smell, one that announced spring and new beginnings. Weddings normally gave her such a feeling, but hers hadn’t.
The sun was already hugging the horizon when they gained their first view of MacLeod Tower. Bells began to ring along the curtain wall of the stronghold. Gahan pulled them to a stop just beyond the range of the archers and waited for his standard to be recognized. Moments later, the gate was lifted. Gahan led them through, and soon the inner yard was full of horses and men dismounting.
Moira was grateful to be stopping. She made sure Athena was settled on the saddle perch before getting ready to slide off her mare. Cam caught her on her way down, ensuring that she touched down softly.
He offered her a nod, then resumed his post behind Gahan.
It should have been a Matheson retainer who saw to her, but none of them were anywhere near her. Somehow, she’d ended up surrounded by Sutherland men. She lifted her arm for Athena, and the moment the hawk was settled on her arm, a Sutherland man led her horse away.
Bari stopped to glare at her, but the men around her shifted, cutting him off. He snorted then made his way to the steps of the keep, where Saer MacLeod was welcoming Gahan.
Saer MacLeod was an imposing man. His dark hair hung to his shoulders. The cool evening breeze clearly didn’t bother him, given that his shirtsleeves were rolled up and tied at his shoulders. His arms were brown from the sun. His kilt was held in place by a worn belt that lacked any showy decoration, like the one Bari wore. Saer was hardened, the muscles of his arms clearly defined. He had a great deal in common with Gahan; both looked like men who earned everything they had, including respect.
Achaius made his way to where Saer stood. The MacLeod laird didn’t look at him. Instead Saer MacLeod turned to look at Moira, his unsettling gaze sweeping her from head to toe. Achaius gestured her forward.
She should have thought of him as her husband but just couldn’t. The label stuck in her thoughts, refusing to let her thoughts flow.
With Athena perched on her arm, she made her way up the steps and lowered herself in greeting. The new MacLeod laird wasn’t interested in her manners; his eyes were on Athena.
“The hawk trusts ye,” Saer MacLeod remarked.
“I raised her.”
“Yes, yes…me bride has many skills,” Achaius said.
Saer extended his bare forearm, but Athena let out a shrill warning. Her feathers ruffled, and she lowered her head to make sure he knew she had no liking for him.
“Calm the bird,” Achaius ordered, “and hand it to Laird MacLeod.”
Saer’s eyes narrowed. Moira bit her lip and said, “A hawk cannae be ordered into submission. They must be trained to do so.”
“Aye, the lass is right. Ye must earn its respect,” Saer said, nodding. He withdrew his arm. “Ye are welcome in me home.”
He turned and walked through the double-door entrance into the main tower. It was nowhere near as grand as Matheson Tower, but it felt more welcoming. Achaius and Bari followed him without a backward glance, while Gahan remained behind with Moira.
“Ye are less than dirt to the Matheson,” Gahan remarked. He kept his voice low, but there was rage in his eyes. “Did he hurt ye?”
It was a question he had no right to ask, an intimate one that sent heat to her cheeks. She seemed to be forever blushing in his presence, but instead of being irritated, she discovered she was pleased.
She would certainly never blush for Achaius.
Gahan pressed her. “Tell me the truth, Moira.”
“Ye should nae ask—”
His dark gaze cut into hers. “Answer me.”
“He didn’t…” She couldn’t finish the sentence because she knew she was lying—or at best, she was willfully deceiving him.
She lifted her foot to climb another step, but he moved in front of her. The man was imposing enough without towering on a step above her. She felt gooseflesh prickle her skin in response. Behind her bodice, her nipples contracted into hard points, and her heart increased its pace. Time felt frozen. She was trapped between breaths, noticing all the details of his face. It felt as though he could read her thoughts as easily as a book.
“Ye are hiding something,” he stated.
Gahan’s accusation brought Moira back to the present, giving her such a start that she jostled Athena still perched on her arm. The hawk let out a shrill cry, and Cam came up the stairs at a run, managing to lift the hawk off her arm as Moira regained her balance.
“I’ll take Athena to the mews,” he said, and was gone with a swish of his kilt, leaving her to face the formidable glare of his master. There was some unnatural connection between them. She lowered herself and ducked around him.
Inside, her husband waited. She looked at Achaius, insisting that she focus on him. With a determined step, she closed the distance between them.
It was time to act like a woman.
And a wife.
***
Moira sat at the end of the high table. It was a place of honor, one she’d often wondered about as the half sister of the laird. The reality didn’t fit the image she’d created in her girlhood fantasies. She didn’t feel honored. Instead, all she noticed were the looks of pity being cast toward her from the women of the MacLeod. They were no fools. Her union was a cruel joke, and they narrowed their eyes when they gazed at Bari for arranging the match.
The fare set out on the high table of MacLeod Tower was simple. The surprising fact was that every table was served the same meal. Saer MacLeod seemed completely at ease and content with the common fare, as did Gahan. Only Bari and Achaius occasionally looked longingly toward the kitchens to see if something more might be coming.
“I hear yer land was raided after Sauchieburn,” Bari remarked at last. “Little wonder yer table is light.”
Saer turned to look at his guest. “The fare is filling, which is more than some must make do with. The land I inherited is fertile. I am used to earning what I have.”
“I suppose it is better than what ye had living on the isles.”
“Among the savages?” Saer inquired. “I found them more trustworthy than some of me fellow Highland lairds. The men of the isles will fight ye face-to-face, nae slip poison in yer drink.”
Bari’s face reddened. “That was me sister’s doing.” He reached for his mug and took a large swallow before nodding. “I’m off to set it straight with the earl.”
Saer didn’t respond. Bari finished his meal and departed for his chamber. Achaius remained, entertaining those willing to listen with tales of his youth. Moira sat by his side, determined to begin acting like a wife. To leave before her new husband would set tongues to wagging about the validity of her marriage. The candles burned low before he finally stood up.
“Forgive me for retiring so early, but I’ve a new bride to enjoy.”
No one corrected him on the time, and Moira found herself worrying her lower lip as she stood to follow her husband. Her reprieve might be over. But there was nowhere else to go. She followed Achaius up two flights of stairs to a chamber. Someone had made sure it was ready. A fire crackled in the hearth, and candles cast their yellow light over the bed.
The linens were turned down, and Moira felt her throat tighten. A young gillie helped Achaius strip off his clothing until he wore only his shirt. The young lad laid everything neatly aside then tugged on his bonnet and left. A lump began to form in her throat, but she forced it down. She reached for the button that held her sleeve closed at her wrist.
“Still in yer dress, lass?” Achaius crawled into bed, propped himself up on the plump pillows, and smirked at her. “Well then, take yerself back to the kitchens and have the cook mull me some cider.”
“Cider?” Her fingers froze on the button.
“Aye, aye.” He waved her toward the door. “Me belly is troubled.”
“Of course.”
She might have spoken too quickly, but he didn’t seem to notice. Moira forgot to lower herself before spinning around and heading toward the door. Her determination was no match for the flood of relief that swept through her.
“Ye are a dutiful lass to hurry so.”
She was already out the door when his words reached her ears. She was in fact running, but she seemed unable to control the urge to flee. It was only a reprieve…and a short one at that.
She walked down the stairs to the kitchens like a woman on the way to her execution. All too quickly, steam rose from the small copper pot the cook used to warm the cider. The cook unlocked the spice cabinet, taking only a small piece of cinnamon and a single clove before locking it again. When it was added to the cider, she leaned over and inhaled deeply.
“It’s been a long time since I used any of the spices. We have little left. I adore cinnamon, but there are more essential things to be buying this season. Our new laird does nae waste coin on comforts. That is a blessing, for there are many needs here since we were raided.”
She smiled, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil filling Moira. For a moment, Moira was jealous of the other woman, envious of the fact that she was not dreading the coming night. Then she chided herself for being childish. Everyone had their duties, both pleasant and not. She’d not go hungry on Matheson land.
Moira carried the cider up the stairs, her steps echoing in the now-quiet tower. Only a single lantern was left glowing in the hallway, the light making its way through slots in its tin sides. A torch would have provided more light, but the fire risk was much greater. The MacLeod land had been raided, but the tower had not been breached, or the lanterns would have been carried away. A castle and its grounds were expensive to maintain. Her dowry would no doubt go toward improvements of Matheson Castle. Gahan would be expected to increase Sutherland holdings when he wed.
She sighed and climbed the last step. The dread was beginning to annoy her. So she lifted her chin and entered the chamber with a determined stride. Once it was done, she would not worry about it any longer.
But the chamber was filled with snoring.
Achaius had the coverlet pulled up to his chin and his eyes closed. He was so deeply asleep, his snoring bounced off the stone walls. The scent of cinnamon filled her nose, and she turned around.
The cook was in luck, it seemed, for she would be getting a taste of the cider after all. There was no reason to let it go to waste.
***
Gahan lingered at the high table.
“Yer brother suffered from the same affliction,” Saer remarked.
“And what might that be?”
His host wasn’t offended by his sharp tone. Saer chuckled and leaned against the side of his chair so he might look straight at Gahan. There was a devilish look in his dark eyes and a grin on his lips. Gahan laughed.
“Being in the company of Bari Fraser has soured me sense of humor.”
“Laird Fraser does have a stench about him.” Saer’s expression became pensive. “One I do nae trust.”
“Nor do I.”
“It makes the fascination ye have with his sister a bit complicated. Nae that I would allow that to stop me from taking what I wanted,” Saer said suggestively.
“I do nae have a fascination with her.”
Saer picked up the knife he’d used to carve his dinner and slid it back into the top of his boot. When he looked back at Gahan, his dark brows were raised.
“Ye are correct,” Gahan relented. “But she’s wed now, and that is nae a line I intend to cross.” Disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he didn’t reach for his mug of ale. The drink held no appeal for him. All he craved was Moira, and he could not have her.
“She is nae that wed,” Saer replied. “Standing at the church door for the blessing is nae wed. Nae to my way of thinking. Insincere words do nae make a bond. A Highlander is a man of his words and actions.”
Gahan frowned, earning another chuckle from his host.
“Look at her, man. She’s still a maiden. I’d bet me last coin on that. She still looks at ye like sweet kisses are the only thing lovers share. There was also the look of impending doom on her face when her husband called her above stairs. Her fear was of the unknown.”
Her words rose in his memory.
“He didn’t…”
“Christ,” Gahan swore. “She still flew a soiled sheet.”
Saer cocked his head. “Did she, or did that old man have a hand in it? Laird Matheson doesn’t seem the type to admit time has stolen anything from him. Her brother should be lashed for wedding her to such a creature. Have ye noticed how little interest the Matheson retainers have in her? They do nae care if she ends up dead. Her usefulness was in bringing them her dowry.”
“I have noticed.” Gahan curled his fingers into a fist. “It does nae surprise me. Bari Fraser had a hand in his sister’s attempt to poison me father. I’m sure of that and will nae rest until it’s proven. Wedding his sister to an old man is exactly what I expect of him.”
“But ye are taking the man to yer home?” Saer asked.
It was Gahan’s turn to grin at Saer, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “If Bari is fool enough to enter Dunrobin, I’ll be happy to let him through the gates. I make no promise he’ll ever leave as anything but a ghost.”
Sear shook his head slowly, distaste showing in his eyes. “I admit I’d rather fight a man and be done with it.”
“Yer new position will force ye to temper that impulse and face the fact that many do nae share yer preference,” Gahan said. “I’ve listened to me father say such over and over, yet I still want to balk. Bari Fraser has forced me to see the truth of me father’s teachings.”
Something moved to their right. Both men turned to look, because the hall was quiet. There was a flip of skirt and a glimpse of Moira as she passed by the opening to the hall on her way to the kitchen. Gahan lost interest in the conversation. It was annoying how fast his thoughts returned to how much he wanted another taste of her.
“Ye’re besotted, just like yer brother. But me point is made. She is nae being enjoyed by that old man.” Saer stood and stretched, then slapped Gahan on the shoulder. “Life is too short to lie with the wrong woman.”
“Ye sound like ye know that from experience.”
Saer shrugged. “Both our mothers were lemans. It makes sense that we inherited their will to have love in their lives. Some call that a curse. In yer case, it might prove to be so.”
“Even if it is a lie, her wedding vows separate us.”
“A curse it will be then,” Saer offered solemnly. “No man chooses who draws his interest. The only thing ye have power over is whether or nae ye let those opportunities slip through yer fingers. They are rare, though, so think upon the matter before making yer choice.”
“Do ye nae think I have?” Gahan snorted. “I asked her to run away with me. Me sire would have a great deal to say about that.”
Saer raised an eyebrow. “Yer sire cannae change the fact that ye have the same fire in yer blood that he did, and that it is his fault. As for the lass saying no to ye…” His lips slowly raised and parted to flash his teeth. “Are ye sure ye do nae want to try to change her mind? Lasses can take a bit of persuading.”
“That is a dangerous idea, my friend.”
Saer shrugged. “If I wanted her, I wouldn’t care.”
He moved off, his kilt swaying as he went. There was no doubt in Gahan’s mind that Saer would do exactly as he claimed, but what bothered him the most was the spark of irritation that came from even the mention of another man being interested in Moira.
He couldn’t be jealous.
Shouldn’t be.
But he stood, and in spite of his better judgment telling him to join his men, Gahan moved toward the kitchen.
Toward Moira.
***
The kitchen was quiet. The maids had climbed into their bunks on the far side of it where they might enjoy the heat from the large hearths. A couple of young lads were sleeping on pallets on the floor. The cook had already removed her overdress and was brushing out her hair when Moira appeared.
“Me husband has fallen asleep.” She offered the cider to the cook.
“Ye do nae want it, Lady Matheson?”
The cook was forcing herself to ask. Hope brightened her eyes, and she wrung her hands to keep from reaching for the cider. Moira shook her head and handed it to her.
“Enjoy it.”
The cook smiled and lowered herself, then lifted the small lid off the mug and inhaled the scent. She hummed and carried it back to the large worktable she spent so many hours at. She perched herself on a stool, the embers from the fire turning her cheeks ruby, and sipped at the cider.
Moira smiled as she turned and left the kitchen. There was a bed above stairs for her, but it seemed less than welcoming. She moved into the shadows slowly, in no hurry to get to the stairs.
She’d rather meet Gahan in the shadows. It was a wicked thought, one that warmed her cheeks, but she didn’t believe the blush was one of shame. No, she needed to be truthful. It was excitement warming her. But she would be disappointed tonight.
She sighed and lifted her skirt to mount the stairs.
“What were ye hiding from me, Moira?”
For a moment, she thought she must have conjured Gahan from the darkness with her longings. She stared at the shadows as they parted, still unbelieving. He moved forward, and her fingers connected with him. She jumped, not realizing she’d reached out to touch him.
“Thinking about me?” he questioned suggestively.
“I—” She clamped her mouth shut and tried to force her wits to return.
He stepped closer, and she retreated. “Ye what?”
She bumped into the wall. Gahan took advantage of her position, flattening a hand on the stone surface next to her head. He was impossibly close.
Yet still forbidden.
“Ye must stop asking me personal questions.” She was breathless and certain he heard the tattletale sound.
“Ah, ye are referring to when I asked ye if Achaius hurt ye?” His tone was husky, and it awakened all the yearnings she’d tried to smother since he had kissed her. “What I really wanted to ask was did he please ye?”
He gently stroked her cheeks, sending a jolt of delight through her. It was so intense, her knees felt like they were wobbling. The wall behind her was suddenly welcome support.
“Or make ye blush, as I do?”
He didn’t give her the chance to answer. His warm breath teased her lips a moment before he satisfied her longings with a kiss. She trembled, unable to control her body. He cupped her cheek as his lips began to tease her. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip, then pressed her to open her mouth for a deeper kiss.
There was no considering her actions. She reached for him, slipping her hands into the open collar of his doublet and shirt. His skin was incredibly warm, hot really, and impossible to resist.
She wanted to touch him and kiss him. His kiss became demanding, his tongue thrusting into her mouth in an intimate invasion. Excitement knotted her belly, drawing her thoughts to her mons. Hidden between the folds of her sex, her clitoris began to pulse. Gahan pressed her against him, smoothing a hand down her back until he could cup one side of her bottom.
It was bold and exactly what she wanted. But the hard outline of his cock broke through the spell.
“No…no…I cannae do this to ye.” She shoved away from him, bumping against the wall again. Gahan didn’t give her any more space than that.
“Do what to me, lass?”
Only a sliver of moonlight made it through an archer’s slit to break the darkness. But it was enough to cast his features in silver. His expression was dark and unyielding, demanding an answer.
A confession…
She had no will to deny him, only the need to be done with Bari’s pretenses.
“Use ye.” She shivered. “I cannae deceive everyone.”
“Deceive in what way?”
He wasn’t going to allow her to escape easily. But the truth was often harsh. Yet she found it more bearable than the torment of guilt.
“Achaius didn’t…didn’t…I fell asleep before he arrived.”
Gahan cupped her jaw, his eyes steady on hers. “Who bloodied the sheet?”
“I do nae know. Yet it was nae me. I would have done me duty.”
She could feel him weighing her words. He was a man who lived by his instincts, and they served him well. But she stared into his eyes, for she had nothing to hide.
“I believe ye.”
Three words had never pleased her so much. She smiled, caught in a rush of relief. But she also had to recall the facts of the matter. She pushed at his chest and ducked under his arm.
“I should go now.”
He chuckled, the sound full of promise. “Nay lass, that is nae what ye need.” He reached out and gripped her wrist. “But since ye’re a maiden still, I suppose it’s something ye would nae understand just yet.”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer him. With a firm tug, he pulled her toward him, but he leaned over, and she went right over his shoulder. A second later he was striding down the dark hallway with her hanging over his shoulder like a new kill.
“Gahan—”
He pushed open a door then kicked it shut behind them. Wherever they were, it was dark. He reached for something, and a moment later he opened a window shutter that allowed the moonlight in. She had only a brief moment to notice it was a window before he pulled her off his shoulder and caught her in his arms.
“Stop talking, Moira. Ye and I agree far more often when we are nae talking.”
He turned, and she saw the bed for the first time. It was far less grand than the one Achaius was snoring away in, but Gahan tossed her onto it and followed her. His weight was so pleasing. She gasped as he settled on top of her, taking some of his bulk on his elbows. Clearly he was more experienced in bed sport than she.
“This is wrong.” It was what she should say. What the Church would demand was right. Yet that was so opposite of what she felt.
Gahan stroked her cheek and angled his head to place a kiss against her neck. Sweet sensation went rippling through her body, and she reached for his shoulders to keep him near.
“It feels very right to me, lass.” He kissed her neck again and again until he found her collarbone. She arched toward him, anticipation threatening to drive all sense from her head.
His hands settled over the swells of her breasts, stroking the sensitive flesh. Suddenly he pushed back and stood up, cold air rushing across her body. But Gahan quickly pulled her up and tugged at the laces holding her overgown closed. Her undergown followed, and he shrugged out of his doublet, then pressed her back down on the bed.
“No protest?” he teased.
“It would be a lie,” she admitted. The last few days had been too full of deception. So she reached for him, for the one thing she craved, and Gahan didn’t hesitate.
His kiss was stronger this time, more demanding and more purposeful. Somehow, she understood what he wanted; in some deep part of her mind she longed for it, too. But she didn’t know what to do, her hands moving clumsily as she tried to touch him in return.
He groaned, and she jerked her hands back.
“Now do nae do that,” he admonished gently. “That was a sound of enjoyment.”
He rose up onto his knees again and unbuckled his kilt. It fell down to cover her, then he sent it over the edge of the bed. The buckle made a sharp sound when it hit the floor, but she was too absorbed with watching him strip his shirt off to care.
She’d seen a cock before—at least she thought she had.
Working with the hawks had afforded her a few accidental viewings of the Fraser retainers chasing the maids. Gahan didn’t look anything like them—and she’d never been fascinated before.
She reached out, gently touching his erection. The skin was smooth as glass, but warm.
“Sweet Christ.”
He groaned again, but she gained confidence from the sound and an amazing sense of belief in her own ability. She closed her fingers around his shaft and pressed her hand all the way to the base of it.
He sucked in his breath, then settled down on top of her again. “Two can play that game, Moira.”
He captured her lips in a kiss that drove the last of her wits away. She didn’t try to recall them, either. Instead, she twisted, trying to press herself against him completely. Need and yearning were pulsing through her, flooding her to the point of drowning, and all she wanted to do was sink into them. She parted her thighs and clamped them around his hips. The next groan that filled the room came from her as he settled against her spread sex. Her clitoris erupted with pleasure, urging her to raise her hips.
“If all I wanted was a quick tumble, I would nae have brought ye here. The wall behind the tapestries would have done well enough.” He moved down her length, pulling the neck of her chemise low to bare her breasts. His warm breath teased one puckered nipple as he hovered over it. “I want more.”
His eyes glittered as he locked stares with her. “Much more.”
He cupped her breast, sending delight across her skin. How had she failed to notice how sensitive her breasts were? His touch lit a new flame of need inside her. It was deeper, hotter, and more intense. Her heart raced, but she didn’t care if it burst. Her lungs struggled to keep pace, and she smiled, because her rapid breaths drew his scent into her senses.
He smelled good. Like solid strength.
The moonlight showed her the tip of his tongue as he extended it toward her nipple. Anticipation held her in a tight grip before the first contact made it snap. She cried out, unable to remain silent. Her body had never felt so much, so deeply before. It was swirling through her, pooling in her passage. Gahan captured her nipple between his lips, and it felt like the hard point was connected to her clitoris.
The little bud throbbed for attention—a demand, not a request. He kissed a trail to her other nipple, sucking it as intently as he had its twin. Her eyes closed as she arched up to offer her breasts to him. But it wasn’t enough. She reached for his head, threading her hands through his hair. She tightened her legs around him, pulling him toward her. He released her nipple and smoothed a hand down her body. Her skin was ultrasensitive, and his hand felt perfect against it, as though she hadn’t realized what her body was for until that moment.
He paused at the top of her mons, teasing the curls. It was such a forbidden place that she lifted her head and looked toward him once more. Anticipation brightened his eyes, and the silver moonlight bathed every hard muscle covering his body.
“I do nae care to cause ye pain.”
He pushed through the curls and between the folds of her sex. She gasped, frozen by the sheer shock of the intimacy.
“Since it cannae be avoided, I will give ye pleasure before I take me own.”
His tone was thick with promise. She shivered, anticipation returning to needle her, but the reason was unclear. “You have already given me pleasure.”
His teeth flashed at her. “But a taste of true rapture, lass.”
His meaning still eluded her. She opened her lips to ask him to explain, but his finger moved. Positioned directly on top of her clitoris, the single movement sent a bolt of delight down her passage. It thrilled her, yet at the same time increased the need twisting inside her.
“Let me show ye, Moira.”
He wasn’t asking permission. It almost sounded like a boast, but he began to move his finger again, making thought impossible. He rubbed her clitoris and then circled it. She jerked, her hips rising up to press against his finger, but he trailed it through the center of her slit. Sweat popped out on her forehead as he circled the opening to her passage. Inside her body, the walls of it felt like they were tightening in an attempt to grasp him.
But she wanted more than his finger. She curled up off the bed, desperate to gain satisfaction.
“I want…more.”
Gahan captured her mouth, kissing her hard as he returned to rubbing her clitoris. She fell back, unable to do anything but experience the waves of delight rippling through her.
“I know what ye crave.”
She lifted her hips, and this time he pressed down harder in response. The pleasure was white-hot now, so intense she wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain. She needed something so badly, she whimpered. Her passage was so empty. She fought against his hold so she might be filled.
“Then give it to me,” she demanded and pulled him toward her.
He growled softly and returned her fervor. “It will be me pleasure.”
He lifted his hand away and leaned down over her. His weight was intoxicating, and she reached for him. The head of his cock slipped easily between the slick folds of her flesh. She felt him shake as he fought the urge to thrust deep.
“Slowly, lass…it must be slow at first.”
His voice was tense. He held her hips, keeping her still as he pressed forward. Her passage was hungry, but he entered her only a tiny amount at a time. She growled with frustration, but a moment later, the walls of her passage protested. It felt like he was too thick to enter, pain beginning to burn inside her as he pressed forward. Her fingers curled into talons, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she tried to escape.
He held her steady, pulling free before thrusting back into her again. This time his cock tunneled deeper, inflicting more pain. It was red-hot and pulsing, but she still wanted him inside her.
“Breathe, lass.”
She sucked in a gulp of air, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. It eased the pain, sweeping most of it away. Relief washed over her, and she drew several more rapid breaths until she realized she was clawing him.
“I did nae mean to scratch ye.”
He chuckled and withdrew from her body. “I do nae care, lass.”
A moment later he thrust deeply into her, a low rumble from his chest telling her how much he enjoyed it. Her thoughts scattered again, the need burning inside her finally getting what it craved. The hard presence of his cock soothed her yearning. But she wanted more, she needed friction, and Gahan did not deny her.
He began to move in a steady motion, giving her time to learn the rhythm before he increased the pace. Beneath them, the bed ropes creaked as he drove his length harder and faster into her body. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except raising her hips for his next thrust. The hard shaft pressed against her clitoris, moving her closer and closer to some sort of zenith.
When it came, it felt like something snapped inside her. Pleasure exploded beneath the pressure of his thrusts. It flung her into a vortex that twisted and wrung her without mercy. Gahan growled and pressed against her, releasing his seed. It was all-consuming, and she had no idea how long it lasted, only that when it released her, she was helpless against the surface of the bed, her entire body spent.
Gahan collapsed on top of her but shielded her from his weight with his arms, then rolled off her. The bed rocked again, making an ominous sound, but the ropes held. She doubted she could have moved if they had snapped. Her heart was still beating too fast, making her light-headed. Gahan was in no better condition. His chest rose and fell rapidly as well. What had felt like a cool night was now too hot, the thin layer of her chemise irritating against her skin.
She closed her eyes, drifting away on waves of satisfaction. As her heart slowed, her skin cooled, and she sighed. The sound was one of deep contentment. She had never felt so good. If she had, she didn’t recall it. Even the dull ache coming from her passage failed to interrupt her enjoyment. So she let herself drift into sleep, only muttering when Gahan slipped an arm beneath her and rolled her over so her head rested on his shoulder.
She finally understood what perfection was.
***
But perfection never lasted. At least not on earth.
Her mind became restless as Moira tried to wake and do something important. It needled her until she jerked awake, confused because she had been so deeply asleep.
Gahan jumped when she moved so suddenly, his huge body jerking off the bed as he pushed her to the side of the bed away from the door. He reached for something leaning against the wall, and she realized it was his sword.
“What is it, Moira?” he asked as he swept the room twice with his gaze before looking back at her.
“I fell asleep.” The moon was still only part of the way across the window, telling her most of the night was yet to come.
He released his sword. “Aye, as did I.” His attention dropped to where her chemise was still gaping open to expose her breasts. “But I am nae complaining about being roused.”
She pulled up the fabric, earning a frown from him. “We’ll be discovered,” she said.
“Good.” He began to pull on the lace that closed his boots. In their haste, he had never removed them.
“It is nae good.” She stood up.
Gahan reached over and struck a flint against iron. Sparks dripped down to a pile of tinder, giving birth to a flame. The orange-red light illuminated his face, the hard features striking her as solid. He held a candle over it until its wick caught. Warm golden light washed over him, gifting her with a full view of just how perfect his body was, as well as how strong it was. There wasn’t a single bulge of fat on him, and every muscle was hard. There was something savage about him, but it served only to enhance his appeal. She shivered and hugged herself.
He stood up and held the candle over the bed. A dark stain marked the sheet.
“Deception is nae good, Moira. Let us be discovered, and let yer brother and Achaius receive what they are due for insisting on the farce that is yer marriage.”
His tone was just as solid as his body.
“To what end?” She stooped down and picked up her undergown and shrugged into it.
“The end of yer marriage, to begin with.” He placed the candle on a table and stood up. But he didn’t seem concerned with his lack of clothing. Instead, he began to close the distance between them.
“Everyone will say ye stole the wife of one of yer vassals.” She lifted her overgown and put it on, but there was no way to close it because the ties were down the back.
“Achaius is nae yer husband,” Gahan growled and pointed at the stained sheet.
“Neither are ye. So if we are discovered, I will be shamed, yet rightfully so.”
He was the son of the Earl of Sutherland. Allowances would be made for his lustful wanderings. Horror filled her as she realized what she had forgotten in the grip of passion. It had been so simple, so very much like being enchanted. But reality was hard and full of consequences. He was the earl’s son, and as such, he would not be alone.
She turned in a circle, looking into the darkened corners of the chamber. Off to one side was a doorway leading to another room enclosed in blackness. “Where is he? Yer captain? Ye are never alone.”
“Sometimes I am.”
She looked back at Gahan in relief, but his hard expression didn’t put her at ease.
“Cam stayed outside the door until we fell asleep.”
“But he is here now.”
And the man knew full well that they had been enjoying bed sport.
Gahan reached for his shirt and shrugged into it. “With yer brother in this tower? I doubt me captain would leave me even if I ordered him to.”
The shirt had been draped over the arm of a chair, and Gahan’s kilt was no longer lying on the floor but pleated and waiting for him on a side table. A shiver went down her spine. Cam had been in here. Moira looked back at the side door, blinking several times as her eyes showed her what she had already known to be true. Gahan’s captain stood there, partially hidden in the shadows. He didn’t look at her, but her cheeks burned scarlet anyway.
She turned to leave, but Gahan captured her wrist and pulled her back to him.
“Ye do nae have to return to Achaius.” His embrace was solid and tempting. But Moira knew the sun would rise, and with it, the harsher side of life.
“I won’t be another link in the chain. Bari wants to fight with ye so badly, and he will if I don’t go through with this. Sandra was very important to him, and I share blood with him. ’Tis something I cannae change.”
His expression turned stony. “Did ye know about the poison?”
“Nay.” He was weighing her answer, his dark eyes glittering with the need for justice.
She sighed then pushed away. She wanted to think she was leaving to protect his good name, but the truth was she couldn’t bear to see the suspicion in his eyes. It tore a hole in the trust that had grown between them, sweeping away the confidence that had seen her sharing his bed. Which left her no reason to stay.
None at all.
***
Cam spoke. “I do nae think the lass cared for how long ye considered her answer.”
“Keep talking, and I’ll smash ye in the jaw, Cam.”
His brother grinned, but Gahan wasn’t in the mood to jest. He turned around, feeling like the walls were closing in on him. It took every last bit of discipline not to go after Moira. But the stained sheet was a glaring reminder of her.
She shouldn’t be so important.
The words and the idea that she mattered to him didn’t sink in; they just crossed his mind before disappearing. He tugged the sheet free and folded it.
“What are ye planning to do with that?”
“Keep it.” Gahan lay back down. “And do nae ask me why, because ye already know that I do nae understand why. Only that it is going to Dunrobin, and I will never tell Moira I am sorry you are witness to how it was stained.”
“She’s right. If ye show that to anyone, there will be talk of yer stealing from a vassal,” Cam warned. “As well as making it public.”
“Exposing deception is nae a thing to be avoided. That’s why we are here, to prove Bari Fraser is the villain we know him to be.”
Cam grabbed the sheet and handed it to another retainer. “Somehow, I think that reasoning will gain ye naught but grief as well.” He pinched the candle out then returned to the second chamber to get some sleep.
At least someone would sleep, but Gahan doubted he would. He hadn’t needed to hear Cam softening toward Moira. It was too close to his own feelings for her. He grunted and punched the pillow.
He didn’t have feelings for her.
She was a Fraser.
But her scent still lingered, and the echo of her soft cries as he’d pleasured her followed him into slumber.
***
Everything was quiet when she climbed the stairs back to the chamber where Achaius slept. She entered the rooms provided by Saer McLeod. The small receiving portion of the chambers had a single candle burning for her. The retainers had lain down near the curtains that separated the receiving room from the bedchamber. They were thick, wool ones that stretched from ceiling to floor to provide privacy. The retainers were lying across the floor to prevent anyone from crossing into their laird’s bedchamber without stepping over them. They had the portion of their kilt that was draped over their right shoulder raised to cover their heads and keep them warm throughout the night.
But they’d wake if she walked past them and opened the door.
A reckless urge to do so rose up inside her. She didn’t even want to fight it. Frustration with her current predicament threatened to help her make sure the retainers knew how late she was returning.
At least it would be an end to her sham of a marriage.
But there would also be an end to Bari’s civil behavior.
A curtain was pulled aside on the side of the room. Another candle burned inside a tiny alcove. A cot took up most of the space. It was intended for a groom or a captain, but the candle had been left there for her.
Her husband’s retainers didn’t expect her to join Achaius.
It wasn’t an uncommon thing. Especially among noble unions. Her cheeks stung with a blush as she realized just how relieved she was. It was wrong, but it felt so wonderful.
She let the curtain fall over the doorway and lay down. The ropes strung through the wooden frame of the cot groaned and needed a good tightening, but the bedding smelled fresh enough. She pinched out the candle and tried to sleep.
Her thoughts were churning, but at least she was alone. It was a small mercy, but she was grateful for it. Dawn would be soon enough to deal with reality.
***
Achaius opened his eyes when his captain stirred. The man rolled over and settled back into sleep. The fire was only a bed of coals now, a faint red glow coming from them. His toes were still warm, and he grinned as he realized his wife had returned. Beyond the curtain, he watched the faint light go out.
Yes, his young wife had returned. In the darkest hours of the night too. There was only one reason for that.
He savored the victory, his mind full of the opportunity it afforded him. As soon as he was sure her belly was full, he’d let his captain tell Bari of the lovers’ secret. The Fraser laird was no match for Sutherland’s bastard. Gahan was a bear of a man and much harder than Bari. The moment Bari gave him a cause, Gahan would snap his neck.
Achaius grinned and chuckled. It would be perfect, and he would have the Fraser land. A laird was only as good as the profit he gained for his clan. It was the Highland way.
***
Moira was sore the next morning.
She noticed it the moment she sat up. Deep inside her passage, she ached. But the gray light of dawn was welcome because her sleep had been fretful. She fingered her underrobe, contemplating the thoughts that had troubled her sleep. She was torn between the need to be truthful about Gahan and her sham of a marriage, and the very real threat of giving her half brother what he wanted: a reason to feud with Sutherlands, not to mention with the Mathesons alongside him. Perhaps truth was supposed to be the only path a true heart should walk, but she just couldn’t stomach the price.
She could do little more than drag herself out of bed and pat her hair down before pushing the curtain open.
“There ye are,” Achaius remarked.
“Good morning, Husband,” she said dutifully. The bright light of day reminded her of all the reasons why she needed to please Achaius.
“That cook must have taken impossibly long with the cider,” Achaius said, laughing. “No doubt because her laird is nae a man who enjoys his comforts. She’s out of practice in brewing up such things.”
Achaius’s gillie was tending to his master with the help of two other youths. The first one directed his dressing, and one brought forward a large, polished brass mirror for Achaius to see himself in.
“Get yerself ready to ride,” Achaius said as he inspected his appearance. “We’ve two days of riding before making Sutherland. It will be the ground for beds tonight.”
Moira let out a breath when Achaius did not pursue the subject of her late return, and for the first time in her life she was grateful to hear there would be no warm bed to climb into at sunset. No walls meant Gahan could not surprise her in dark hallways.
She knew her thoughts were cowardly, but it was better to admit it than allow herself to be in a position to fall under his spell again.
***
Dunrobin was far, far in the North.
On the journey, the rivers they crossed still had ice in them, and the going had been further slowed by mud. Snow still lingered under trees and on the shady sides of slopes, but much of it was melting and making the ground difficult to traverse.
Soon the roads would be filled with merchants moving about to sell what they had crafted during the winter. Only a few of the fields were turned, the nights still too cold for planting.
But construction had commenced on the castle.
When they neared the village that surrounded the castle, the sound of hammers and picks filled the air. Wagons with their beds weighed down with stone made a slow but steady trek up to the new building. Three large cranes were in position, and it looked like well over two hundred men were working on a new section of the castle. The road was packed hard from the constant traffic.
Dunrobin Castle was already massive. There were three tall towers and two older ones, short and square. The newer ones were round, to make them harder to hit with war machines. A thick curtain wall connected them all, and the back of it dropped off to the ocean.
The prosperity of the Sutherlands was clear. Gahan pulled up and turned his horse so he might make eye contact with Bari as her brother got a good look at Dunrobin. Some might have accused Gahan of appearing arrogant, but Moira decided he was justified.
Bari was a fool to trifle with a clan like the Sutherlands, especially when he did not have to. Sandra had been a beauty and had many suitors, but she’d set her sight on one who didn’t care for her. Greed was deadly.
Bari stiffened and rode straight for the entrance of the curtain wall. The wall would double the size of the inner yard. The castle would be huge, and she doubted even the English king had such a fine fortress.
She expected the Sutherland retainers to take their horses toward the stable, but they continued on into the inner yard. The earl stood on the steps of the largest keep, his face set into a frown. Next to him was a younger man, one every bit as toned as Gahan, but with light hair. Gahan climbed the stairs to talk to him. They had a heated debate, which the lighter-haired man clearly lost. He nodded at last, then turned and spoke to the retainers guarding his back. There was a shift and then a snarl as a petite woman with a swollen belly was guided away.
She didn’t go before shooting a scathing glance at the blond-haired man.
“Ye did nae have to send yer wife away, Norris Sutherland,” Bari declared.
The blond-haired man clenched his hands into fists. “Ye were made welcome here last season, and ye betrayed that trust. I promise ye one thing, Bari Fraser, ye will nae get another chance to harm any member of me family.”
Bari hesitated, fighting the urge to argue. The muscles in his neck corded, and many stopped what they were doing to stare at the standoff. But he finally ducked his chin and lowered himself in front of the earl and his son, Norris. “I’m here to make amends for me sister’s actions.”
Neither Norris nor Gahan looked impressed. The retainers behind them moved in closer.
“Aye, it’s true,” Achaius said as he made his way up the stairs. “I won’t be having traitors in me family. Since I wed Laird Fraser’s younger sister, I insisted he come here to smooth over this difficulty.”
“Ye wed his sister? And come here after the fact?” Norris Sutherland asked incredulously. “That is nae how ye prove yer intent to be a good vassal.”
Achaius made it to the top of the stairs and took a moment to catch his breath. Norris wasn’t going to give the man time, but his father held up a hand. Achaius reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet before performing a shaky reverence. One of his men caught his elbow to help him straighten back up.
“At my age, ye do nae go to sleep at night and assume ye will be granted another day to enjoy life. For my impatience, I offer ye an apology. Yer father will likely understand me better than ye, young Norris,” Achaius admonished the heir to the earldom with a note of glee. “I’ve always been a bit of a fool for a sweet lass.”
Norris looked past Achaius to Moira. His gaze was much like Gahan’s, sharp and knowing. “She could be yer granddaughter,” Norris declared bluntly.
Achaius didn’t look ashamed. “Marriage is for begetting children. I need a young, healthy lass for that. I’m looking forward to seeing her belly as round as yer own wife’s.”
“Let us take this to me private chamber,” the earl decided.
His sons didn’t agree. Both Gahan and Norris glared at Bari suspiciously. Their father turned and walked into the keep. Both Matheson and Sutherland captains followed, as did many of the retainers.
Once most of the men moved inside, Moira sighed, realizing it was the first moment of peace she’d had in days. There was a great deal of activity in the yard. Younger boys were leading the horses away, while the retainers who had ridden with Gahan greeted their families. There were squeals from children being lifted high in their fathers’ arms.
“The men have their minds occupied with dark thoughts they need to settle with the earl, and since the mistress was sent away, that leaves welcoming ye to me, my lady.”
Moira turned to see an older woman standing behind her. She wore an overgown of fine wool, and a ring of keys was secured to her belt. Moira lowered herself.
“I am Asgree, the head of house at Dunrobin, and ye owe me no deference, Lady Matheson.”
“I am simply Moira. My mother was common-born.”
“Still, ye are wed to a laird.” The older woman studied her for a moment. She snapped her fingers, and a young gillie came quickly to her side. “Perhaps ye would like to bathe?”
Just the mention of the word made her tremble. The gillie tugged on his knitted bonnet, then extended his arm out for Athena. She let him take the hawk, the idea of a bath too much to resist.
“I did nae see any clothing packed for ye.”
“Nae.” Moira followed the head of house into the keep. Maids in livery lined up as their mistress passed, and then followed behind. Each one wore a linen cap and apron.
“It is just as well. Yer gown is too light for Sutherland. Alice? Go find something warm enough for Lady Matheson.”
The maid fixed her with a keen, knowing look that sized Moira up before the maid turned and mounted a set of stairs without a single question.
She didn’t feel like Lady Matheson. What ye are is Gahan’s lover, she thought. Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. One liaison did not make them lovers. Sinners, to be sure, but nothing else.
Asgree led her into a bathhouse built alongside the kitchens. The window shutters were open to allow the fresh air in.
“The light will be gone soon, but we’ll stoke up the fire if ye wish to wash yer hair,” Asgree told her.
Two maids were already working at the hearth. One added a thick log while another picked up a bellows and used it to fan up the flames. The log crackled and popped as it caught. The room was soon warm as a summer day.
There were several tubs leaning up against the wall, large and high-backed. The maids set one near the hearth and soon had it full. They added hot water from a kettle. Moira disrobed and sighed as she stepped into the hot water. She gleefully cleaned the dust from the road off her skin, dunking her head several times to rinse her hair. The water was pure bliss, and she sank down into it with a happy smile upon her lips.
“There is no one in here for ye to worry about.”
The door opened, and the blond-haired woman with the swollen belly came through in a huff. The maids all turned and lowered themselves. But she stopped two paces into the bathhouse when she noticed Moira. The retainers with her had stopped at the door, but they moved up beside her the moment they realized who else was in the bathhouse.
“This is the women’s bathhouse,” Daphne MacLeod groused at the men beside her.
“Yer husband wants ye watched so there can be no more trouble from the Frasers,” one of the men offered. He was fighting to keep his tone respectful, but the look he aimed at Moira was full of hatred. “It was her sister who poisoned the earl. They cannae be trusted.”
Daphne glared at the retainer, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears. The retainer looked appalled and backed away, unsure of what to do with a pregnant, weeping female.
“It’s nae her fault. It is just the babe making her temperamental,” Moira chimed in. She remained low in the tub to hide her nakedness. She bit her lip when everyone stared at her. “I’m sorry. I suppose ye are nae interested in what I think.”
“It is the truth, nae yer opinion,” Asgree offered before turning to address the retainers. “There are many here to see to the mistress. Stand outside the doors.”
The retainers hesitated, but the head of house pointed them toward the door, and they finally left, but reluctantly so.
Daphne rolled her eyes and rubbed her lower back. “Me husband ordered them to cling to me skirts like pups. I thought this would be the one place I might have some peace.”
“I will leave.” Moira sat up. “I hear a warm bath is soothing for the backache.”
Daphne looked at her for a long moment. “What do ye know of the pains a woman is burdened with when she is heavy with child?”
“My clanswomen spoke freely of it.”
“At the high table?” Daphne questioned suspiciously.
Moira wrapped a length of toweling around herself and moved closer to the fire. “I am only a half sister to Bari. I never sat at the high table. He forbade it because me mother was common-born. I admit to appreciating nae having to suffer him and Sandra.”
None of the maids offered to assist her. Moira rubbed her hair dry and put on her chemise. Daphne moved toward her and fingered her overgown where it was lying.
“This is threadbare.” Daphne handed it back to Moira, and she slipped into it.
“It is all she has,” Asgree said. “There was naught brought along with her, and she had shoes on her feet with holes in them. Alice, where is that gown I sent for?”
The maid from before had returned with an overgown in her arms. It was plain, but made of thick, warm wool, and looked like it would fit Moira well enough.
“Sandra had the finest of everything,” Daphne said, a lingering glint of suspicion in her eyes.
Moira could hardly blame her. It had been Daphne who stood accused of poisoning the earl, and she would have been hanged for it if Sandra had not been found out.
“I’ll leave so yer husband’s men do nae have a reason to look in on ye.” Moira put on the overgown and picked up her arisaid. She stopped and lowered herself politely before Daphne. “I thank ye for making me welcome.”
The retainers watched with narrowed eyes as Moira left, and every Sutherland she passed sent her scathing looks. The ill will and suspicion was to be expected, but that did not ease her way through the hallways. So she walked out of the keep, heading toward the only creature she might expect a warm welcome from. Dunrobin boasted fine accommodations for its hawks.
There were over thirty raptors in the clean and spacious mews, and perches for at least twenty more. The window coverings were open wide, and there were long poles fitted into the stone wall outside the window where hawks could enjoy the sun on their feathers. In the yard beyond, there were at least a dozen falconers working with birds while younger boys watched the art of training raptors. Some of the birds had leather ties on their talons because they were being trained to carry messages.
Athena lifted her wings in welcome, and Moira hid her unhappiness against the hawk’s feathers. There was a familiar comfort in the moment. But it wasn’t enough to banish the unease twisting her insides.
***
The earl’s private study was brimming full of tension. The men glared at one another, distrust clear on their faces. The earl held up his hand to keep them all quiet as he walked around the large desk at the far side of the room and sat in the padded chair. There was a hearth behind him, demonstrating that firewood was not considered too great an expense for the master of Dunrobin.
“Now, Bari Fraser, I’d like to know what part ye played in yer sister’s schemes,” the earl asked smoothly.
Bari huffed but bit back the first words that sprang to his lips. “I knew naught of me sister’s plans, only that she was found in yer son’s bed. I was angry, sure enough, but I sent her here for ye to deal with the matter.”
Lytge Sutherland didn’t look impressed. He kept Bari standing in front of the long table which served as his desk. Norris stood behind his right shoulder, and Gahan had joined him on the left. Bari didn’t miss the unity being displayed, and Gahan didn’t miss the lightening color of Bari’s pallor.
“That was part of her plan,” Norris snarled. “She made sure we were all under the spell of a sleeping draught so she might slip into me bed and cry foul against me. I did nae seduce her, and I know me cock never touched her.”
“It sure enough looked that way to us all.” Bari drew in a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I was brought low by her deeds meself. When I saw her in yer bed, what else is a brother to do? But I still sent her here to Dunrobin to have the matter settled. There are plenty who would have challenged ye to a fight on the spot.”
“Do nae quell the impulse on me account,” Norris suggested savagely.
“Enough,” Lytge cut in. “There will be no fighting. It is a fact ye sent her here. On that point, I’d be wrong to question yer loyalty.”
“Good…good…” Achaius was quick to join the conversation, but Lytge raised a single finger to quiet the man. The earl studied Bari for a long moment, resting his chin on steepled fingers.
“Bari Fraser, ye may swear yer fealty in the Hall,” Lytge said, “if that is indeed what ye came here to do.”
Bari pressed his lips into a tight line, but Achaius slapped him on the shoulder. “Ye see there, lad? I knew this was the way. I’m sure ye’re right glad ye took me advice and came along.”
“Ye gave me little choice,” Bari complained.
“Yet a choice all the same,” Achaius insisted. “Life is a matter of decisions.” He turned his attention to the earl. “These lads do nae understand that fact as well as we do.”
The earl held up his hand. “Now I will speak with Laird Matheson alone.”
Bari stiffened, his complexion darkening, but the retainers near the doors opened them wide for him to depart. He turned around and left, the retainers closing the doors behind him.
The earl fixed Achaius with a hard look.
“An interesting comment ye made there in front of young Fraser. And yet ye offer me a very paltry excuse as to why ye wed so quickly,” Lytge said. “Where is yer great understanding of how life should be, Achaius?”
“Yer son was there for the wedding. A grown son has always been enough in the Highlands,” Achaius offered. “Or is the problem in the fact that it was yer bastard son?”
The earl bristled. “Gahan is a son of Sutherland.”
“Then there should be no difficulty,” Achaius declared. “Me last wife died a full half year ago. I am nae going to waste me remaining days on waiting for the snow to melt so I can come to yer door. Lord Home has me sons at Court, and me hall is empty.”
The earl let out a sigh. “Where I am discontented is in the choice of yer bride. For all that ye have brought Bari Fraser here, I doubt he would have come on his own. He’s angry, and that’s clear as day. Ye also rode against me at Sauchieburn.”
“Aye, it’s true about Sauchieburn,” Achaius admitted. “I followed me king, and for that, I will nae make any excuse. Lord Home is making me pay for that, and I’ll take me penance. But an empty castle is a hard thing to live in. Too hard for me. I want a wife and family, and I do nae have the time for letters to be making their way all the way up here. The lass is nae from so great a line as to be one ye would have wanted to go to another.”
Lytge drew in a deep breath and tapped a finger on the top of his desk for a few moments. “Her blood concerns me more than if she’d been of a finer lineage.”
“Bah!” Achaius spat. “She’s a half-blooded sister Bari kept on his land in case he ever needed her to settle an argument. Ye know it as well as I. Look at the way she is dressed. He considers her naught but a vessel for gain.”
“Exactly,” Lytge agreed, heat edging his tone. “Bari Fraser has an argument with me, and I do nae need yer retainers riding with his in some vain attempt to avenge his sister. The bitch poisoned me at me own table.”
“A fact which I’ll admit I’m using to me own advantage.”
The earl’s eyes narrowed, but Norris spoke up before his father did. “How is that?”
“Simple, lad,” Achaius replied. “Bari Fraser has a stink clinging to his kilt from his sister Sandra’s doings, and I’ll admit I’ve let him think I’m sympathetic to his cause. I wanted a young bride, but I have never wed without keeping me eye on the gain it will bring me clan. There are nae many who would take an offer from Bari Fraser, because they know ye are nae pleased with him.”
“Yet ye did,” Gahan spoke up, “and with a lot of haste.”
“And ye were riding along Bari’s borders at the first hint of spring weather, lad,” Achaius accused. “Ye were looking for trouble.”
“Because we have every reason to be suspicious of Bari Fraser,” Gahan answered.
The room was silent for a long moment. Achaius chuckled, surprising the rest of the occupants.
“Well now, I’ve got him through yer gates, so it seems like ye should be grateful. I doubt there is another of yer vassals who could have done the same.” He leaned forward, locking eyes with the earl. “Now ye do nae need to go looking for him.”
“And ye get to keep the dowry,” Norris finished.
“And the lass,” Achaius interrupted with a smack of his lips. “She’s a sweet treat.”
“She’s far too young and does nae want to be wed to ye. In fact, I question—”
“Enough!” Lytge interrupted Gahan. The room went silent again as the earl considered the man before him.
“If what you say is true, ye are welcome at Dunrobin, Laird Matheson. For the time being.” The earl held up his hand to dismiss Achaius and keep his sons from commenting. Norris cut Gahan a look behind their father’s back. Achaius stood up, reached for his bonnet, and made his way out the door on shuffling steps.
“He’s lying,” Gahan said the moment the double doors were sealed tight once more.
“About what?” Lytge demanded. “Nae that I did nae get that impression meself.”
“As did I,” Norris added as he came around his father’s desk. Gahan followed him.
“I did nae raise ye to use such a hard tone unless ye had evidence,” Lytge said, pointing at Gahan. “A son of a laird must always remember that others may act upon the words he allows past his lips, so ye’d best think before opening yer mouth. Being right is nae always the most important thing. Maintaining balance and peace is.”
“He did nae consummate his union but flew a soiled sheet anyway,” Gahan said.
Norris exploded. “The bitch is just like her sister Sandra.”
“No, she is nae,” Gahan countered. “She swore she had naught to do with the soiled sheet.”
“And ye believe her?” Norris asked, incredulous.
Gahan nodded. “I understand ye clearly, Father. This matters because Bari is trying to shift power in his favor. An unconsummated union is no union. At least not here in the Highlands.”
“Sandra was a master of deception,” Norris remarked.
“I remember it well,” Gahan growled. “But Moira is nae like Sandra.”
Lytge held up a hand when Norris would have spoken. Gahan found himself bearing the full weight of his father’s scrutiny. “How do ye know Achaius failed to consummate his marriage?”
Gahan took a deep breath. “Because Moira was a maiden when I took her to my bed at MacLeod Tower. I have the sheet to prove it.”
“Ye did what?” Norris demanded. “Are ye mad? She might have poisoned ye while ye slept.”
“Cam best nae have left ye alone with her,” his father warned.
“He did nae,” Gahan confirmed, “and it is the only thing I lament, for the lass did nae deserve to have her modesty trampled.”
“She’s a Fraser,” Norris reminded him.
“I know it well. She confessed that she was virgin and tried to tell me to let her be. I cannae explain me actions, only that I did take her to me bed, and I am sure there is deception in this marriage.”
“Agreed,” Lytge said firmly. “And I think ye have done the right thing to bring them here. It allows us to plot the next move.”
“While giving them a clear shot at our backs,” Norris argued.
“It’s that or let them choose the timing,” Gahan replied.
The earl nodded in agreement. Norris grunted, clearly not pleased.
“Norris, ye make sure Daphne takes to using the hidden passageways. I do nae want Bari Fraser knowing where she is.” His father pointed at Gahan. “Ye stay away from Moira Fraser. I believe ye are correct. Achaius is scheming, and ye are playing merrily along by trifling with his new bride. Do nae hand him a valid reason to join Bari in a feud against us.”
Gahan opened his mouth, but his father shook his head. “Mind me, Gahan. I’d tell ye to find a willing maid to ease yer lust, but I’d rather ye were keeping a watchful eye on our guests. There is going to be trouble, mark me words on that.”
“Yet if we control when it happens, there will be an end to this which does nae include a feud.”
His father nodded, but there was a grim look in his eyes. “It will be no easy task.”
Gahan knew it. He tugged on the corner of his bonnet and left his father’s study. He was fighting the impulse to look for Moira. Cam fell into step behind him, but that wasn’t enough of a deterrent to keep from thinking about her. Maybe she was just playing a part, drawing him in with whispered words and innocent looks.
Innocent or not, he was still a damned fool, because as the sun began to set, all he wanted was another taste of her lips.
***
“She’s been scratching at the door all day,” the retainer said by way of greeting to his replacement coming up the stairs, “whispering all sorts of enticements she claims to have learned at Court. It’s enough to make ye think ye’re losing yer senses. It might be in the laird’s favor that he has no stomach for hanging a woman, but this one is a demon.”
Having made it to the top floor of the oldest tower in Dunrobin with a pitcher of water and sack of bread, the Sutherland retainer relieved his comrade outside the barred and locked door. The hallway was narrow and the stairs steep, and the two retainers switched places with some difficulty.
“Be on yer way then. I’ll ignore the bitch,” the new guard said as the old retainer disappeared down the stairs. The guard looked at the small door cut into the main one that would allow him to pass food to the prisoner. Duty demanded he open the hatch and pass the sack and the pitcher he held inside the chamber. He slid the wood panel to the side, opening a one by two foot opening in the door. The bar was removed only twice a month when a tub was brought up for Sandra Fraser to bathe.
“Take yer supper—”
He froze in midsentence, blinking as he tried to believe what his eyes were telling him. Sandra Fraser was laid out on the small cot in the cell wearing nothing at all. Her hair was flowing down onto the pillow as she beckoned to him.
Sweat popped out on the retainer’s forehead. “Take yer meal or starve.”
She stood up, her auburn hair swinging like a silk curtain behind her. Her face was drawn, but her tits were still plump and tight, making the guard’s cock stir. In spite of her crimes, she was still well fed.
“I’m coming…but I’d rather be making ye come.” She stroked her lower lip as she walked slowly toward the doorway.
“Take yer food.”
She reached for the pitcher and bag but stroked his fingers as she took them. “Join me. Ye will nae regret it.”
He slid the door shut and wiped his forehead across his sleeve.
“Yer duty is to keep me in this chamber. I swear I will stay here. All I ask is for ye to tell me brother I am alive. Relieve the torment of thinking me dead. That is all. Nae so much to ask, and I will reward ye well.”
“Enough!”
Frasers were nothing but trouble.
Curse them all.
***
Dunrobin had a huge Great Hall, which was presently full of hundreds of retainers. As the supper service was held back, Moira noticed the women were pushing their way inside too. Candles flickered in the chandeliers, but there was an uneasy silence tonight. Bari Fraser stood before the high table, waiting while the earl and his sons took their places.
Gahan wore a fine doublet with silver buttons. On the side of his bonnet was a gold brooch with a large emerald set in it. The earl wore a chain of office that left no doubt that he was the head of the massive Sutherland clan. Lytge settled himself as Bari waited. Only after Norris and Gahan took positions behind the earl did he nod at Bari. Achaius waited at the foot of the stairs that led to the high table until the earl’s business was finished.
Bari stiffened, the muscles in his neck cording, but he bent his knee and lowered himself before the earl.
“I pledge ye me loyalty, even if it may cost me life. I condemn me sister Sandra for her actions and beg yer forgiveness for the slight me blood has done against yer noble person.”
The earl didn’t comment for a long moment. Tension filled the hall as everyone waited. Moira stood beside Achaius, feeling as out of place as Bari was.
“I accept yer pledge, and ye are welcome at me table,” Lytge finally said.
Bari shot up and climbed to the high ground. Soft conversation began to flow, but it didn’t sound welcoming.
“Bring on supper,” Lytge bellowed, proving time hadn’t stolen his vigor just yet.
Achaius sat down next to Bari, taking the last two seats at the high table. It suited Moira, because she didn’t think she could sit still up on the dais with everyone’s eyes upon her. Daphne MacLeod was of the same mind. She pushed her chair back, but her husband caught her arm. She leaned toward Norris and whispered something. He released her, but his lips were pressed into a hard line. Daphne shook her head and stopped and stared at the retainers ready to follow her. She rubbed her back again and finally turned and disappeared through one of the arched doorways at the side of the Great Hall, the Sutherland retainers at her heels.
Women began bringing in platters of food, and Moira joined their ranks, but they were not welcoming.
She refused to let them intimidate her. She took a place at one of the lower tables, keeping watch on the ones that seemed most interested in making her evening difficult. It kept her mind off Gahan.
When it came time to clear the tables, the Sutherland women were no less hostile. They made no effort to hide their distrustful comments and glances even as Moira helped gather dirty platters and mugs. A few of them smirked at her as they boldly sat down and began chatting while she worked. It was a bold action, one the Church might even give them time in the stocks for.
Asgree appeared and snapped her fingers at them. “Unkindness has no place here,” Asgree said. “Leave the feuding to the men. We’ll have to endure enough grief from their quarrels without adding our own.”
It was so similar to what Moira’s own kinswomen had said. She felt guilt tighten around her. So far, she hadn’t been able to hold Achaius’s attention for any length of time, let alone please him. He was still sitting at the high table, talking away to those willing to listen.
He was her husband, and yet he wasn’t.
Her thoughts strayed to Gahan and how much she preferred him. It was the truth, and it shamed her. Achaius may be guilty too, but it was her duty to take up the position of his wife. Moira noticed that Gahan, however, was watching her from the high table. He drew her attention, and it took true effort to look away. Then Achaius laughed, slapping her back into reality.
She could still try to attract Achaius away from his scheming. She had to. It was time to be in her place.
She moved in front of him and lowered herself. “I find I am tired and wish to return to our chambers. Would ye join me?” Moira said, smiling at him.
Achaius stopped talking and grinned at her. “Ye head off to bed, lass. Best sleep while ye can, for when I join ye, there will be no rest for ye.” The Matheson retainers chuckled, but none of the Sutherland men did.
She drew in a deep breath and straightened. Dreading her duties was irritating her now. She was not a coward. She didn’t want to have to keep steeling herself for something that never happened, but it seemed she couldn’t seduce Achaius even if she wanted to. She left the hall with a heavy feeling of defeat.
The steps were much wider than in Fraser Tower. There was even a railing to hold on to. The walls were freshly plastered, and between the archer slits, large hooks held lanterns. Everything about the tower declared prosperity.
The floors were also farther apart. She grinned when she reached the third floor. It was split into two chambers. Instead of two doors at the top of the stairs, there were four. Two angled west, and two faced east. The ones facing east opened, and she stepped inside. The first room was a receiving chamber. It wasn’t very large, but tapestries hung over the wall. Achaius’s gillie was sitting near the hearth, enjoying a thick slice of bread and cheese.
“Mistress.” He tugged on the corner of his bonnet but looked at her in confusion. “Did the laird send for ye?”
For all of his bluster, her husband didn’t seem to enjoy a warm bed as often as he claimed. Otherwise, the gillie would be expecting her to be in his master’s bed when Achaius arrived.
“He told me to sleep while I could,” Moira replied truthfully.
The gillie shifted. “Then ye should go into the outer chamber until he sends for ye. He is master, and it is best to wait for his instructions.”
It wasn’t so much what the boy said that made her abandon her resolve to take up her position as wife as it was his tone. He was worried. Deeply worried that she’d not do as his laird wished.
“Ye will tell me husband that I await his command,” she instructed firmly.
The gillie grinned and tugged on his cap. “Yes, mistress.” He pointed to the outer chamber. “And there is a fine bed there for ye, on the other side of the receiving chamber.”
The receiving chamber was dark; only a single candle burned near the door. She made her way across the thick carpet to the double doors and opened them onto a bedchamber. A fire had died down, but the coals still glowed warmly. Moira chided herself for how relieved she was, knowing she’d most likely spend another night without having to share Achaius’s bed.
The bedding was turned down, indicating that the staff of Dunrobin was accustomed to noble unions that lacked passion. It was no doubt the reason the earl had a bastard he favored so much. Gahan’s mother had been the woman he truly loved.
For a moment, she was caught in the grip of jealousy. Men had so much more freedom. For the first time in her life, Moira understood why women took lovers in defiance of the Church. Cold beds were very unwelcoming, a fact she’d been innocent of just two days ago, before she’d taken Gahan as a lover. Well, that was a memory now.
Moira draped her overgown on the back of a chair and sat down to take off her shoes. Her stockings had new holes in them, but she’d leave the repair until morning. She reached for a brush sitting on the bedside table and drew it through her hair several times before she climbed into the bed. It was chilly, but not for too long. The sheets were clean, and she pulled them up to her nose as she tried to use the hint of lavender to drive the memory of Gahan’s scent from her mind.
It didn’t work very well, but at least the comfortable bed lulled her into sleep—even if Gahan was waiting there in her dreams for her.
***
Gahan emerged from one of the secret passages, joining Norris in his private chambers. Their father sat in an armchair in front of the fire.
“Bari Fraser is in the north tower, well away from us,” Gahan reported. “But he is nae happy. It seems none of our women are interested in sharing his bed.”
“Sandra seems to suffer the same difficulty,” Norris remarked. “The men set to watching her door report she’s taken to trying to seduce them so they will tell her brother she is alive. I suppose I should have put her in a tower overlooking something other than the main gate.”
“I’d prefer it if she left Dunrobin,” Daphne interrupted. She was fussing around in the bedchamber beyond the open curtains of the receiving area, but she noticed the stares being sent her way and moved into the doorway. Her swollen belly looked huge, and she began to rub it slowly. “Well, I would, and ye are having yer meeting in our private chambers, so do nae expect me to keep silent. But I know why ye’re here. To make sure no spies overhear ye.”
Every castle had its spies. Daphne turned around and returned to fussing with a length of cloth. The earl waited until she’d moved away a good ten feet.
“I’d like to be rid of Sandra as well, but I will certainly nae be handing her back to her brother,” the earl remarked. “She’s a blot of bad luck.”
“Bari is nae much better,” Gahan said. “I wager he does nae know his sister’s marriage went unconsummated. He does nae have the union he wants with the Mathesons.”
“Achaius might never admit such a thing. He wants the dowry.” Norris grunted. “On second thought, though, I think it might be better to have him know ye took Moira to yer bed. At least the man would try his hand at killing ye, and we might be rid of him.”
“Ye must never assume the outcome of a fight,” Lytge warned. “I’ve seen a few surprises in me years and would nae like to lose one of me sons. I warned ye to keep away from Moira Fraser, and ye’ll do it, Gahan. Achaius may yet consummate his union. The man talks of it often enough.”
“He’s past the age,” Gahan replied. “I’d wager me last bit of silver that Moira is sleeping alone right now.”
“Ye cannae have affection for a Fraser,” Norris declared. “None of us could.”
Lytge chuckled and stood. “As if ye listened to anyone when young Daphne took yer interest. I know the look, because I still see Gahan’s mother in me dreams. Ye are both me sons, cursed with the need to love.” He pointed at Gahan. “Stay away from her, at least until she is no longer a wife—and I’d appreciate it if her husband died on his own land, nae on mine.”
“She is nae his wife,” Gahan insisted.
His father nodded slowly. “I agree that an unconsummated union is no marriage, nae in Scotland, that is. The English might disagree, since they let the Pope tell them what to do, but the only witnesses to such a thing cannae be the man who wants the bride for himself. The Matheson will have reason to feud with us.”
“Her brother will hardly agree to ending the sham of a marriage either,” Norris added.
“Why is this so bloody complicated?” Gahan groused.
“Because ye are me son and too much like me,” Lytge informed him. “No man has everything. There are plenty of men serving as me retainers who may chase the lass of their choice, but they long for the position ye enjoy, and make no mistake about that. But that same position has a cost, for naught is free in this life. Yer actions gain responses…Ye must think before ye act, else watch the men serving ye suffer for a rash act. Fate tests us all.”
It was the truth, but Gahan had no liking for it. The only thing that made him nod in agreement was the sound of regret in his father’s voice. His sire wanted what was best for him, but being the Earl of Sutherland meant thinking of duty before all else.
Fate did indeed want to test him.
***
Moira was jerked out of sleep, certain she’d heard someone calling. The chamber was dark, only the faintest glow coming from the hearth. The nights were still long. She didn’t think it was past midnight. Drapes covered the windows, so there was no light from the moon to help her see into the corners of the room.
“Help…I need…help…”
The sound was muffled, like it was coming through the walls. She crumpled the bedding in her hands in fear. Dunrobin wouldn’t be the first Highland fortress with restless spirits.
“Moira…I need help…”
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
A Dunrobin ghost wouldn’t know her name.
She grabbed a candle and held it against the coals until it lit. A warm glow surrounded her, but it also showed her that she was alone. “I hear ye…”
“Here…I’m here…”
It was Daphne MacLeod’s voice, but muffled. Moira moved slowly toward the far side of the chamber and heard the woman groan.
“Where are ye?” Moira called out.
A thump sounded against what looked like a doorway to the garderobe. Moira pressed on the wood, and it popped open, releasing a draft of cool air that made the candle flicker. Once the flame grew bright again, it illuminated a hidden passage with narrow stairs spiraling down into darkness. Daphne MacLeod was sitting on the stairs, her hands fisted in her skirts. Her face was drenched in sweat.
“Thank Christ…”
“My lady, why are ye here?” Moira sputtered.
Daphne groaned long and low before opening her eyes and sucking in a deep breath. “I was spying on ye. Christ forgive me! But I was, for I just had to know if ye were only pretending to be sweet-natured.” She gasped, and her hands clenched her skirts tighter.
“I’ll go get help,” Moira said quickly.
Moira started to stand, but Daphne cried, “Do nae ye dare leave me! There is no time! This is what I get for spying. Me babe is coming now! I can nae even make it to me own chamber. Ye have to help me!”
She let out a cry and leaned back on the narrow steps. Moira set down the candle and peered at Daphne for a moment. “Ye are right, my lady, the child is being born. I see its head.” Her heart began to race, but she bit her lower lip to steady herself.
“I know I’m right!” Daphne shouted.
Moira knelt between Daphne’s knees and gathered up her undergown to catch the baby. “Do nae worry, I’ll catch the babe. Push with the next pain.”
Daphne groaned as she bore down, and the baby’s head came all the way into view.
“Breathe, lady! And push!”
The baby was slick, and Moira used her skirts to get a good hold on it as Daphne pushed again.
“Good…well done, lady. The shoulders are out.”
Daphne yelled with the last push needed to birth her baby. Moira gently clasped the infant’s head and ankles before turning it over to clear the fluid from its nose and mouth. The baby gasped, and its arms began to flail as it let out a squeal.
“It’s a lad, lady! A fine, strong little boy,” Moira declared.
Moira wiped the baby’s face clean and looked up, but Daphne had collapsed back onto the stairs. Her chest rose and fell, but terror knotted Moira’s insides. They’ll hang me if Daphne is found dead…
But her hands were full with the baby, and it was still attached to its mother. The doorway to the hidden passage was still open.
“Help!” Moira drew in a deeper breath and yelled. “We need help!”
The wind whipped up the stairwell, and she cuddled the baby close to keep it warm. Another gust of wind came up the stairs, and she looked down into the darkness. There had to be a door open below to let the night breeze in.
“Help us!” she yelled down the stairs, the sound bouncing between the stone walls. “Someone! Please!”
Every second felt like an hour. The baby settled down, making small noises as the candle flame flickered. Her heart was racing, and sweat trickled down her back beneath her clothing. Daphne lay like a broken doll across the steps. But there had to be retainers charged with watching her chambers.
“Who’s up there?” a man’s voice asked.
“Lady Sutherland needs ye!” Moira shouted.
She heard him coming, the hard pounding of boots against stone. She reached up and pulled Daphne’s skirt down just before a Sutherland retainer emerged from the darkness.
He took in the scene and growled at her. “Ye will nae touch the laird’s wife, Fraser.”
“We have no time for that!” Moira snapped. “I need a knife to cut the baby’s cord so we can move the lady to my bed.”
The man’s eyes grew round as he looked at the baby. He bumped into the wall as he cowered away from the scene of childbirth.
“A knife, sir!”
He reached down and took one from the top of his boot. Moira cradled the baby in one arm and cut the cord with her other hand.
“Ye must move her gently, as though she is made of straw.” Moira stood up carefully, nodding toward her room. “Into this chamber, for we dare nae move her more than necessary.”
“I should take her to her own chamber,” the retainer argued.
“Ye cannae. She must nae be jostled, else she might bleed. Each step is a risk.”
The man made the sign of the cross over himself before gently scooping Daphne up off the stairs. He angled her through the doorway that led to Moira’s chamber and settled her in the bed.
“Fetch a midwife—and quickly,” Moira instructed him. She held the baby in one arm and plucked a candle from the table. She knelt down and held the wick against the embers to light it. A golden pool of light illuminated the newborn.
“I cannae leave the mistress with ye,” the retainer said.
“What do ye know of childbirth?” Moira growled at him. “Ye know nae how to help at all, so I dare nae leave her with ye. Shall we both stand here, then? Get on with ye!”
Daphne made a soft sound of pain, her head moving from side to side as her face drew tight. Yet it was a sweet sound, for it meant the lady still drew breath.
“Get me hot water and linens and some experienced women!”
Moira grabbed her overrobe and swaddled the baby with efficient motions. The retainer hesitated only a moment before he was running through the dark chamber.
“Where…where am I?” Daphne blinked, trying to see in the dark.
“Ye are fine, lady, and have a new son.” Moira carefully gave the child to Daphne. “He’s strong and well, Lady Sutherland.”
Daphne clasped her arms around her baby and studied his face for a long moment, then looked up at Moira. “I fainted.”
“Aye, but many do.” Sure the baby was secure, Moira released him to his mother’s embrace.
Daphne tried to sit up, but Moira pressed her back. “Ye must nae, lady. Ye must stay still.”
“Get yer hands off me wife, Fraser!”
Norris Sutherland didn’t wait for Moira to obey him. He grasped her shoulder roughly and pulled her away from Daphne. Moira went stumbling across the floor; the retainers following Norris Sutherland let her fall in a heap.
“Do nae raise yer voice, Norris!” Daphne snarled and sat up.
“Ye must stay still, Lady Sutherland!” Moira gasped. “Ye might tear yer insides and bleed.”
“Do nae tell me wife what to do!” Norris shouted at her.
“Yet, she is correct.” Asgree appeared in nothing but her shift and nightcap. The head of house was out of breath but still took command. “This is no place for raised voices.” The baby started crying, all the shouting disturbing him. Asgree flicked her long braid over her shoulder as she leaned in to look at the new baby.
Moira jerked her skirts out from beneath her feet, but someone lifted her off the floor before she was untangled.
“Thank ye…” Her words trailed off as she looked up into Gahan’s dark eyes. He was straight from his bed, his shirt untied at the neck, granting her a view of his chest.
She recalled all too well the perfection of his flesh and what it felt like against her own.
“Ye men need to leave,” Asgree informed them.
“The Fraser goes too,” Norris declared.
“Stop lashing at her, Norris!” Daphne said, then gasped. “It’s me own doing I’m here, and right glad I was to have her help! I was spying on her because of yer suspicions.”
“Well-founded suspicions,” Norris argued. “Which is why ye should have been nowhere near a Fraser.”
“I’ll nae be shackled like a hound.” Daphne slapped the surface of the bed. “Now stop yer growling and tell me ye’re pleased with yer son.”
Norris turned to Daphne and instantly transformed. His face beamed with joy as he sat on the edge of the bed and peered down at his newborn child.
Asgree tut-tutted, making a shooing motion. “I need ye gone, so I can attend to the mistress.”
Norris glared at her. Maids were flooding into the chamber, their hands full of things to help with their mistress’s birth. Daphne began to groan and kick at the bedding. Norris stood but refused to back away from his wife. Asgree had to lean past him to wipe the sweat off her mistress’s face.
“I’ll go, if that is what it takes to get ye to leave,” Moira said. She brushed off Gahan’s grip and made her way to the door.
The receiving chamber was brightly lit now, and Achaius stood in the doorway to Moira’s chamber in nothing but his shirt, surveying the scene.
“Well now, me bride has made herself useful, it seems,” Achaius remarked, noting Moira’s appearance.
Her gown was covered in blood and fluid from the birth, and her hair was a tangled mess. Her bare toes were turning to ice now that her heart wasn’t racing anymore.
“Yet ye brought naught else along for yer bride to wear,” Gahan muttered darkly. “For a man who claims to be so happily wed, ye spare her little of yer attention.”
Achaius merely blinked in the face of the reprimand. “A wife sees to her husband’s needs, lad. Nae the other way around. If I wanted a fancy woman, I’d have gone to Court. I like her in her skin, and do nae care what dress she wears during the day.” He turned and made his way back to bed.
“Bloody selfish bastard ye have for a husband.” It was a bold thing to say, even for the son of an earl, but people were rushing in and out of the chamber so quickly, no one seemed to take notice. Gahan shook his head then scanned her from head to toe. “Ye look like ye rolled across the stables.”
“Thank ye so very much,” Moira said, brushing past him. Her heart had stopped racing, but the sting of Norris Sutherland’s words rose in her memory, and tears stung her eyes as she remembered just how unwelcome she was at Dunrobin.
Norris Sutherland stomped out of the bedchamber, Asgree standing in the doorway with a thin, age-worn finger pointed at him. “It’s time for women’s work.” Noting Achaius’s closed door, Asgree spoke to one of the maids standing by. “Seeing as Lady Sutherland is occupying Lady Matheson’s chamber, escort her to the star chamber.”
Asgree closed the doors firmly, and the maid stepped forward to escort Moira away. Norris turned with a swish of his kilt and stopped when he caught sight of her. His eyes narrowed, but Gahan stepped between them. Whatever idea she’d had of standing firmly in the face of his displeasure dissipated as shock tore through her. She wasn’t the only one stunned. Norris looked at his brother, astonishment showing on his face.
“I’ll take her,” Gahan said to the bewildered maid, who lowered herself and scurried away from the two men staring daggers at each other. For a long moment, they held each other’s stares, then Gahan captured Moira’s wrist and pulled her behind him out of the chamber. They were halfway down the stairs before she recovered her wits.
“Where are we going?” Moira asked.
“The star chamber,” Gahan grunted. “So called because Norris’s mother painted the walls with constellations. It’s often used for guests, so no gossip will come from ye being there.”
Moira followed him down two more flights of stairs to the door of a chamber. When she hesitated on the bottom step, Gahan turned in a flash, giving her a look at his furious expression before he pulled her over his shoulder. Gravity aided him, since he was below her.
“Nay…ye’ll ruin yer shirt!”
He ignored her warning, taking her weight easily. Even though they were alone, she felt ridiculous hanging over his shoulder and tried to straighten up. He smacked her bottom in response. She collapsed back over his shoulder with a gasp as he carried her across the landing and opened the door.
He set her down and kicked the doors shut, plunging them into darkness. She was still stumbling away from him when he cupped the sides of her face and sealed her mouth beneath his. There was too much heat in the kiss, and she recoiled from the sheer volume of sensation. Gahan followed her, renewing the contact between their lips. Shock was replaced with passion as he slid his arm down to clasp her against him.
Dreaming about him hadn’t been nearly as good as being pressed against him. It was pure delight, and she reached for him, returning his kiss. He pushed her until her back hit the wall. His shirt frustrated her, preventing her from feeling his skin. The ties at the collar were loose, and she slid her hand inside to stroke his skin.
“Ye enchant me, Moira,” he muttered against her neck. “I think I should be afraid of yer effect on me.”
“So should I,” she whispered. She was caught in the grip of need again. It was a torment she enjoyed, but one that completely consumed her. The darkness of the room cloaked them, offering sanctuary from reality.
He stroked her thighs, from her hips down, and then gripped her gown to pull it up. The night air offered relief from the heat threatening to consume her. Her heart raced, but this time, the scent of his skin was there to intoxicate her.
“But all I can think about is how much I want to get back inside ye.” With her gown raised, he caught the back of her thighs and lifted her.
His kilt moved to accommodate him, and his cock nudged between the folds of her sex. A jolt of need tore through her, making her gasp at its intensity. She ached with emptiness, her clitoris throbbing for attention. His cock was hard against her folds, seeking the opening to her body as he pressed up against her. She arched toward him, clasping him between her thighs.
“Christ in heaven!” he swore as his length penetrated her.
She gasped, gripping his shirt so tightly the fabric began to tear. The sound only fed the wildness churning inside her. She dug her nails into his skin and arched her neck, straining toward the next thrust.
It was hard and sent the breath from her lungs. But pleasure twisted through her, and she tightened her grip on his hips, trying to pull him closer. The pace was frantic, each thrust deep and hard. He held her thighs tightly as he used his body to pin her against the wall.
There was no delaying the moment of climax. It broke like a storm wave, the frothy bubbles racing up and over her in a rush that made her thrash. She cried out, the intensity too much to contain. Gahan grunted and thrust hard against her a few more times until he growled and his seed spurted into her womb. The hot fluid set off another ripple of delight. This one was deeper, feeling like it moved through the very core of her body. It left her senseless, her arms refusing to hold onto him.
But he trembled too, pressing her against the wall as though he lacked the strength to stand.
“I wanted to drag ye away from the hall tonight.” He stroked her cheek, threading his hand into her hair and gripping it. “I wanted to drag ye away because ye were going up to his bed.”
Her breath caught. It was pitch black, but she didn’t need to see his face to feel his intensity.
“I had to…” She hated the hesitation in her voice. “It was me duty.”
And she was failing at it again. She pushed against his shoulders, but he held her still.
“He is nae yer husband, Moira.” His tone was hard and edged with authority. “He’s a miser who wants what yer brother will give him, but he’s past the age of being a husband to any woman.”
“Yet he has broken no law.” She shoved at him again.
He hissed at her but let her down to her feet and stepped back a pace.
“He’s broken the code of honor,” Gahan said, “and the Church would agree ye are nae wed.”
“That does nae make it right for us to be…”
“Lovers?” he finished. His tone was hard, and he moved off into the chamber and struck a flint stone. Light illuminated his face, and soon there were several candles flickering.
“There is no affection between us.” She shouldn’t have shared such a personal thought with him, but it just refused to remain unspoken. “Ye want yer way. That is the reason ye kissed me.”
He moved back toward her, not stopping until he had a hand pressed against the wall next to her head. She was pinned just as surely as if he were touching her.
“Aye, that was true the first time I kissed ye.” He leaned in and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. She twisted away, but he followed her, demanding surrender. Resistance might have been on her mind, but it dissipated beneath the motion of his lips. “When ye kissed me back, it became something more, Moira.”
“Kissing ye back only confirms I lack morality.”
Gahan cut through her argument. “Flying a soiled sheet and claiming he is enjoying ye is far worse. Achaius is either a greedy man or one plotting to feud. There is no other reason for wedding ye.”
She ducked beneath his arm. “Neither reason absolves me of my sins.”
Gahan cupped her shoulder and turned her around. “Ye went to his bed tonight. I saw the determination in yer eyes. What happened? Why were ye sleeping in the other room?”
“That is hardly proof of anything, Gahan. Many couples do nae share a bed past coupling.”
“Answer me question.” He might be bastard-born, but he was clearly the earl’s son. Authority edged his words. “Did ye go to his bed?”
“I tried.” She sighed. “I had to try, had to attempt to perform me duty. Achaius’s gillie told me to wait until I was summoned. Ye should go before everyone knows what we’re about.”
Gahan ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving, lass.” He held up one finger. “But I am leaving only because ye are correct to worry our liaison would cause trouble. I want peace as much as ye do.”
For a moment, she offered him a genuine smile. Gahan didn’t return it.
“I give ye fair warning, Moira, if I discover an opportunity to expose yer husband for the liar he is, I shall.” He paused at the door. “And I promise ye this, I will nae rest until I find the means to end yer marriage.”
She covered her mouth as her jaw dropped open. Gahan took one last look at her before opening the door and leaving. Determination flickered in his dark eyes, leaving no doubt that he meant every word.
No doubt at all.