Читать книгу Forbidden Night With The Highlander - Michelle Willingham - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Rhys spent the remainder of the day inspecting the crofters’ homes, surveying every inch of occupied property. He continued to wear his conical helm and chainmail armour, for he wanted the Highlanders to realise that he was indeed a threat if they dared to assault him or his men.

He saw four graves dug in the clearing beside the kirk. Inside, he knew that they had prepared the bodies, and the burial would happen within an hour or two. The people were gathering flowers, and he saw another woman enter the stone kirk, carrying a length of linen.

Earlier this morning, he and his men had already buried Ailric beside the forest, saying a prayer for the man’s soul. It seemed impossible that they had broken bread with him last night, speaking of his wife and unborn child. Life was fleeting, and Rhys promised himself that they would somehow provide for Ailric’s widow, Elia.

The priest stepped outside by the graves, wearing a long brown robe knotted with a cord. His expression was sombre, and he approached Rhys and his men with a lowered head.

‘I offer you the peace of Christ,’ he said by way of greeting, using the Norman language. ‘The MacKinnon told me of this grievous tragedy. I will pray for the souls of these men.’ Rhys inclined his head, but knew the priest had another reason for speaking. As he’d anticipated, the priest continued, ‘But I beg you not to inflict your vengeance against our people. They are not your enemies.’

An invisible tension knotted across the space, and Rhys answered, ‘We will only attack those who raise arms against us.’ He glanced around at the people gathering for the funeral. ‘Those who keep the peace have nothing to fear.’

His words would not convince the MacKinnons, he knew. Several mothers held fast to their children, as if they feared he would cut them down where they stood. He nodded to the priest by way of farewell and strode across the space.

But he had seen what the clan chief had spoken of. These people were thin and suffering. Their clothing looked as if the garments had been worn year in and year out. There was no prosperity, no sense of security here.

That was the reason why Rhys’s grandfather, Fergus MacKinnon, had named Edward the heir, instead of a trueborn Scot. Without any children of his own, he had selected Margaret’s grown son from her first marriage as the heir. And by bringing an alliance between Normans and Scots, Fergus hoped to end the vast poverty here.

His father had not lifted a finger, Rhys knew. Edward had no loyalty here, and he cared nothing for Scotland. To his father, this was a vast wasteland of primitive people whose customs were very different. And so, it fell upon Rhys’s shoulders to change that.

A part of him wanted to walk away from this marriage and these people. He owed them no loyalty at all, not after what Sían had done.

But then, Rhys caught sight of a young boy standing near the kirk, perhaps thirteen years of age. The lad’s hair was dark, like his own brother Warrick’s, and his face was gaunt with hunger. Though he was taller than Lianna, the boy’s arms were too thin. Most likely he would die this winter, if there was not enough food.

A weariness settled over Rhys, for this was the reason why he could not walk away. He had inherited Eiloch, and that meant taking responsibility for these people and their poverty. Regardless of his personal feelings, he would never turn his back on starving children. Providing for them was the right thing to do. He possessed the means to change their lives, forging new alliances that would serve his king in times of war.

As a boy, he had suffered his own personal nightmares of abuse. He’d tried to shield his brother from their stepmother Analise, but their father had never believed the truth about her. They had been alone, unable to defend themselves. No one had offered to help, and when Rhys stared at this boy, he saw the shadow of himself.

There was no turning back now. Not from these people, and not from this alliance.

Slowly, he walked with his men towards their camp. They had deliberately left their belongings there, with the intent of returning tonight to take shelter within Alastair’s house. He decided to remain isolated throughout the afternoon and early evening. Let them bury their dead without a Norman threat hanging over them.

And when he returned, he would wear their clothing as a sign of peace.

* * *

Her father released Lianna from her chamber to attend the funeral Mass for her brother and their kinsmen. By then, she had regained command of her emotions, steeling herself as they lowered the linen shrouds into the ground. She hid her shaking hands by gripping them tightly, and when the rain fell upon their graves, it felt like the tears she could not bring herself to shed.

After the bodies were buried, her father led her back to the house. Quietly, he said, ‘You will return to your chamber and await Rhys de Laurent. I will send him to you, so that you may speak with him.’

She wanted nothing of the sort. But if she told her father she had no intention of opening the door, he would drag her below stairs and force her to meet the man publicly. She doubted if this Norman would listen to reason. His fierce bearing revealed a ruthless man who would act only upon his own accord.

Lianna held her silence as Alastair escorted her back. In the space of two days, her father appeared to have aged ten years. His demeanour was heavy with grief, and she slowed her steps. With a gentle squeeze to his hand, she murmured, ‘We will miss Sían.’

He gripped it in return and closed his eyes, as if to gather strength from her. ‘You must take the place he could not.’

She didn’t understand what he meant by that, for she could never lead the clan. But perhaps he intended for her to ensure that their people were protected, no matter what happened. And this she could promise.

‘I will try.’

He took her back to her room and regarded her. ‘I will send your meal to you here. And later tonight, Rhys will come and talk with you. Unless you would rather dine with everyone else?’

She shook her head. Her father knew how much she hated being among crowds of people. It was why she took her noon meal by the dolmen each day.

‘I need you to make this alliance,’ her father said softly. ‘I believe that you have the strength to wed this man. And he will listen to you.’

He was wrong in that. Men never listened to her, and neither would a Norman warrior. But she went to sit beside her window, and her father closed the door behind him. As she’d predicted, he locked it, leaving her a captive once more.

Which was likely a good decision, given that she wanted nothing more than to escape. Lianna walked over to her bed and straightened the coverlet, pulling it so that both sides were even.

Her mind turned over the problem, wondering if there was something she could do—anything to avoid this marriage. But she could not see a pathway to freedom, no matter what wild ideas sprang to mind.

Her stomach lurched when abruptly there came a knock at her door. It was too soon. They had not eaten the evening meal, and she didn’t imagine that her father could have brought the Norman to her this soon.

She ignored the knocking, her heart racing within her chest. And then a voice called out in Gaelic, ‘Lianna, I need to talk with you.’

It was the Highlander, Gavin MacAllister. She had nearly forgotten about him in the midst of the funeral. But now she wondered if he could be useful to her.

‘My father has locked me inside this room,’ she said. ‘Else, I would open it.’

To her surprise, she heard the turning of a key. ‘Alastair gave me permission to speak with you. May I come in?’

She opened the door and saw that he was wearing the same saffron léine and trews that he’d worn before. His dark hair was cut short against the back of his neck, and the bristle upon his cheeks made her want to touch it.

‘Why did my father send you to me?’ she asked, inviting him inside.

‘Because there is something I need to speak to you about. I was not entirely honest with you when we met.’ He glanced over at the two stools on the far side of the room. ‘Could we sit?’

‘First, give me the key,’ she demanded. She had no intention of allowing the Norman warrior to invade this room while she was talking with Gavin. She inserted it into the lock and turned it. ‘If we are to speak, I do not want the Normans interrupting us.’

His mouth tightened. ‘That is what I wanted to discuss with you.’

She led him to sit at the far end of the room, wondering if he had come to take her from Eiloch. He had said before that he had wanted to wed her. And though she hardly knew him, she could not deny that he made her blood race.

When he had kissed her, she had come alive in his arms, feeling desirable. No man had ever affected her the way he did, and a sudden, rash thought came to her. He could help her escape this unwanted marriage. Perhaps he could escort her to safety where she could avoid the Norman forces.

Her mind stilled with an unmistakable fact—if she wed Gavin MacAllister, they could no longer force her to marry Rhys de Laurent.

Her brain dismissed the idea, for she could not fetch a priest and speak vows with so little time. It would never work. But her mind was caught up with a storm of thoughts swirling within her.

‘Do you still wish to wed me?’ she blurted out, rising from her seat. She could not look at Gavin while she spoke, for his very presence unnerved her. ‘Is that why you are here?’

He paused a moment. ‘In a manner of speaking. There is more I need to tell you.’

Her body went numb with anxiety, and it felt as if her breath caught in her lungs. She squeezed her hands into fists and forced herself to face him. ‘And what if I said yes?’

He hesitated again. ‘You may not want to wed me, after we have spoken.’

She would wed the devil himself if it meant avoiding the Norman. And there was one way of doing so, a way that would end any chance of marriage with Rhys de Laurent.

Her face burned with humiliation, and she could hardly bring herself to voice her idea. Instead, she blurted out, ‘Do you...want me?’

For a long, painful moment, he didn’t answer. She closed her eyes, wishing she had never spoken at all. He would make excuses and leave. Her heart sank, and she berated herself for even asking. Of course he wouldn’t want a woman like her. She was plain-faced with bright red hair and a body that was bony instead of soft.

But he rose from the stool and came to stand behind her. His hard body pressed against hers, and he drew her waist to him, so that she felt the warmth of his breath against her throat. ‘From the moment I kissed you, I have thought of nothing else.’

Her breath released in a ragged gasp, and his mouth pressed against her nape. Gooseflesh rose over her skin, and she now knew that she could do what must be done.

‘Then claim me,’ she pleaded softly. Seduce me so that I no longer have to wed Rhys de Laurent. She needed to bind this man to her, to ensure that there was no chance of being forced to marry the Norman.

Gavin’s body went rigid, and his demeanour transformed. Slowly, he turned her in his embrace, tilting her chin up to face him. ‘Lianna, there is something you must know.’

She didn’t want to hear reasons or excuses. This was her chance to escape a marriage she’d never wanted, and she was willing to sacrifice her innocence for that. And so she stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his in a hungry kiss.

* * *

Rhys de Laurent knew he was a bastard. He had come to her room to tell her the truth, to reveal his true name to Lianna, and to discuss whether they should end the arrangement. He’d been willing to consider giving her to Warrick instead, especially after the death of her brother.

But from the moment she kissed him, offering her sweetness, all logic disappeared. She opened to him, and when he slid his tongue into her mouth, she gasped and moaned, pressing her hips to his.

His body was already rigid with desire, and her softness only ignited those forbidden needs. She believed he was a Highlander, a man who would take her away from Eiloch and give her the freedom she wanted. He knew that, just as he knew she would despise him if she knew who he really was. Was this seduction meant to bind him to her? Was she trying to escape their marriage?

Her hands slid through his hair, and she murmured against his lips, ‘I can hardly breathe when you touch me.’

Rhys responded by bringing his palm to the curve of her breast. She wore a woollen gown, and he could feel the cockled nipple beneath it. He teased it with his thumb, and she shuddered.

He had been with women before, but none who reacted so strongly. The look of pleading desire on her face nearly brought him to his knees. He wanted to spend all night pleasuring her. But if he dared to voice the truth, all of it would end. This beautiful woman would look upon him with hatred, demanding that he leave. Although the voice of reason tugged at his conscience, he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak. This woman would become his wife, and if he accepted her offering, there would be no turning back. All he had to do was remain silent.

Was it so wrong to desire a woman who begged for his touch? Especially when it meant consummating an arranged union? He decided that he would give her what she wanted, as long as she was willing. If she faltered or asked him to stop, he would do so without question. And soon enough, he would have his answers.

She reached for the laces of her gown. ‘Will you help me with these?’ Her brown eyes were hazy with need. ‘My hands are shaking.’

He rested his hands upon the laces and pulled one out, then the other. ‘Slow down, Lianna.’

She closed her eyes as he continued to unlace her. He lowered the gown to her shoulders and pressed his mouth to her skin. ‘Are you certain this is what you want?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was breathless, but the anticipation in her tone held fear as well. He hesitated, resting his hands against her shoulders, giving her time to pull back.

But instead, she pulled the gown lower, baring her shift. The fine linen was slightly sheer, and he could see the faint rosy tint of her nipples. Her auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders, and the force of his desire roared through him.

God help him, this was wrong. He knew he should not take this any further, for she would despise him once she learned the truth. But a dark hunger flared within him with the need to touch this beautiful woman.

Rhys was starving for a taste of her, and a vain part of him hoped that he could bring her such pleasure she would change her mind about wedding him. He cupped her cheek and slowly trailed his hand down her throat. She closed her eyes, her lips softening. Slowly, he lowered his hand, brushing his knuckles against her taut nipple.

A shuddering gasp erupted from her lips, and her hands dug into his shoulders. He stroked the erect tip, and she leaned her head back, her expression rapt with yearning.

Never could he give this woman to his brother Warrick—or to any other man. Not when she reacted so strongly to his touch.

Rhys lifted her in his arms and brought her to sit upon the bed. She started to remove the shift, but he caught her hands. He needed to give her one last chance to guard her virginity. For if they continued down this path, the marriage was inevitable.

‘This wasn’t the reason why I came to you, Lianna,’ he said. ‘If I join with you, you must become my wedded wife afterwards. Or if you want me to stop touching you, I will.’

She framed his face with her hands, her face flushed. ‘Don’t stop.’

* * *

Lianna knew this was wrong. She knew it down to her very soul, but she had come this far, and she could not wait any longer. Her father would come to her chamber with Rhys de Laurent, and if she were caught in Gavin’s embrace, that would be the end of her betrothal to the Norman. Rhys would never accept a woman who could be expecting another man’s child.

For that reason, she knew there was no return from this path of sin. She had made her choice, and she would abide by the consequences later.

‘So be it,’ Gavin growled. He removed his shirt, pulling it over his head.

She was spellbound by his hard muscles, fascinated by the reddened scar that ran across one rib. More than anything, she wanted to touch him, to know what it was to feel this man’s flesh upon hers.

He knelt before the bed and touched her bare feet, tracing her soles. Instead of being ticklish, his touch was sensual, awakening her. As his hands passed over her ankles and up to her calves, he caught the hem of her shift and lifted it higher. She wanted to help him, but the intense stare in his dark blue eyes warned her not to move. His hands slid over her inner thighs, and she was aware of the sharp contrast between his heated palms and her cool skin.

Between her legs, she felt a yearning, to be filled by this man. He would take her body, and afterwards, she would no longer have to wed the Norman. This Highlander would free her from that prison. Her mind tried to warn her that her father would not allow it, but she silenced the words of reason. Her time was running out, and she had to see this through.

The Highlander moved his hand to her intimate flesh, and she was shocked to find that she had grown wet. His finger traced the seam of her opening, and she could not help but moan with the pleasure of his touch. She had always imagined that lovemaking was a necessary means for breeding children, where she would lie still, so that her husband could complete the act.

It had never involved such shocking feelings of need and urgency. She fought to regain control of herself, but her body warred against her mind.

Gavin guided her to lie back on the bed with her legs still open. Then he leaned in and covered her nipple with his heated mouth, over the linen. She nearly bolted off the bed when his finger slid inside her.

Sweet God Almighty.

‘I—I can’t think when you do that.’ Reckless feelings tore through her, and she tried again to master her response. But her body craved his, aching with such fierce needs, she could hardly breathe.

‘Good,’ he answered, swirling his tongue over the damp fabric. ‘I don’t want you to think of anything else but me.’

Her body strained, yearning for something she could not understand. He circled her sensitive nodule while stroking her wet entrance. Then he switched his attention to her opposite breast, and she felt her body erupt with tremors.

‘Don’t fight it,’ he said quietly. ‘Your body will ken what it needs.’ He slid her shift higher so it was bunched at her waist, and then he inserted a second finger. The pressure of his invasion, coupled with the suction of his mouth, was her undoing. A burgeoning spiral of desire made her arch against him, until she felt a surge of hot pleasure breaking over her with the force of a wave. She cried out, fisting the sheets as she rode out the release. His fingers were coated with her essence, and soon she heard him remove his trews. A moment later, she felt the blunt pressure of his erection at her entrance. He was so large, she feared he might hurt her. But he didn’t force her at all. Instead, he remained poised there, his hands moving over her sensitive breasts.

‘Do you still want this, Lianna?’ he murmured.

‘Yes.’ There was no turning back now, not when the Norman could come to her door at any moment.

‘Then take off your shift.’

It was still bunched at her waist, but she obeyed until she lay naked upon the bed. Now that the moment was upon her, she tensed, closing her eyes. Surely, he would thrust inside her, and it would be painful. But as he traced her nipples, she felt her body stirring once more. He slid in a slight fraction, and then stopped again. She didn’t know what to think, but he withdrew and penetrated again. The motion startled her, for there was a yielding of her body, a craving to be filled. He continued his motion, and soon enough, she felt the hot shimmering sensation return.

‘Gavin, please,’ she begged.

The use of his name seemed to bring about a transformation in him. There was a sudden intensity, as if he hadn’t liked to hear it. But he answered her cry, sheathing himself in her body. It did hurt a little, and the sudden breach throbbed, bringing about a different sensation. He didn’t move, and she wondered if it was over. She was so conscious of his body joined with hers, of his breathing and the weight of him. He started to pull back, and she grasped his shoulders, silently pleading for him not to end it. She was certain that he had changed his mind, and she felt herself to blame for it.

But he thrust inside her, filling her completely. His dark blue eyes burned into hers as he made love to her, mastering her body. She met his thrusts, lifting her hips, and was rewarded with another surge of pleasure. Gavin pulled her to the edge of the bed, palming her bottom and invading her wetness with his steel erection. Over and over, he penetrated in a steady rhythm that made her exhale in time with his thrusts. She was coming apart, her body shaking until once again he pressed her over the edge, making her body soar with another release.

She lay beneath him, feeling the slight change in tempo as he continued pumping until he reached his own crest of pleasure. His body filled hers once more, and then he finished, his hard body pressed against her own.

Lianna’s heart was pounding, and she drew her legs around his waist, keeping him close. The Highlander kissed her sweetly, and she closed her eyes, trying not to let her mind dwell upon her father’s fury. Right now, she felt deliciously bruised and swollen, her body fully satisfied by her impulsive move.

He drew the coverlet over them, holding her close. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel safe and protected. But she knew her father would come soon enough with the Norman. And she didn’t know quite what to say to him.

Or worse, would the Highlander have to fight Rhys de Laurent for her? She didn’t like that thought at all.

Gavin drew his hand over the outline of her ribs, his body still joined with hers. A low growl resounded from her stomach, and she blushed. ‘I am sorry. It has been a long time since I’ve eaten.’ She hadn’t taken a meal at all, not since burying her brother. And then, too, her nerves gathered up into a tight knot at the thought of her father bringing her evening meal.

‘Shall I bring you food?’ he suggested.

‘No.’ He could not dare to leave her, not now. ‘It isn’t safe for you there.’ She was afraid of what would happen when her father returned. The burden of guilt weighed heavily upon her, more so because she had found Gavin’s touch so pleasurable.

He withdrew from her, still holding her to him. His thumb idly stroked her nipple, and a sudden tremor of pleasure echoed in her womb. ‘Lianna, we need to talk about this.’

‘I ken that.’ But she was frightened to face what would come. ‘I am afraid of what my father will say. I—I never imagined I would do something like this to avoid marriage to Rhys de Laurent. But he still wants me to marry the man who killed my brother.’ She turned to face him, feeling the raw emotions rise up once more. ‘I cannot marry him. I will do anything to escape this prison. Even wed a stranger.’

Her Highlander traced the outline of her face. There was a sudden hard cast to his expression, as if he recognised that she had used him in this way. She hoped he would understand why she had made this choice.

But at last, he stared into her eyes and admitted, ‘Lianna, I am Rhys de Laurent.’