Her Savage Scot: 1 (Highland Warriors) (6 page)

Elise smiled, as though his distractedness bothered her not
at all. “You were about to tell me why you are here, O savage Scot.”

He might not recall what they’d been talking about, but he
knew it hadn’t anything to do with his king’s command.

“Much as it grieves me to disappoint a lady, my words are
for your king only.” He offered her his most disarming smile. The one Maeve
told him possessed the power to melt even the iciest of female heart.

Elise pouted and feathered the tips of her fingers over his
hand. But before he could fully enjoy the sensation, once again the
inexplicable certainty of being watched shuddered along his spine.

“That’s a pity,” Elise said, abandoning his hand in favor of
toying with the stem of her goblet. “I dearly love gossip.”

Her comment, so apparently artless, caused an unintentional
laugh to escape him. And once more he fought to banish the feeling of being
spied upon. Perhaps he was. But if the Pictish queen hoped to catch him or his
men unawares, she was destined to be disappointed.

“Speaking of gossip, I’ve met with the younger Princess
Devorgilla, but not yet with the elder. Is she at the high table?” He watched
the slaves clear the high table in order to display the following course’s
centerpiece—a magnificent stuffed peacock, replete with vibrant feathers.

When Elise didn’t immediately respond, he turned to look at
her. She had an odd expression on her face but as soon as she realized his
scrutiny, she recovered instantly and bestowed a blinding smile in his
direction.

“The eldest Princess Devorgilla?” She raised her eyebrows
and made a great pretense of peering up at the high table. “Why, no. I don’t
believe she is. What is your interest in her?”

“No interest.” It wasn’t precisely a lie. Even if she was
the reason he was in Ce, he personally didn’t give a shit where the eldest
princess was. It was merely a tactic to discover why not every noblewoman
attended this feast. “Mere curiosity, that’s all.”

“Curiosity,” Elise said, “is meant to be the preserve of the
female of the species.”

Amusement flared. “Perhaps we Scots possess more curiosity
than you Picts.”

“Doubtful.”

“So tell me.” He angled toward her. “Does your princess
insist on her ladies not attending a feast if she doesn’t?”

Elise blinked in apparent confusion. “Why should you ask
such a thing?”

“I’ve noticed not all the ladies I saw earlier are in
attendance tonight.” One in particular. Damned if he knew whether any others were
missing.

He watched Elise glance around the table, a faint frown
marring her forehead. Finally she looked back at him. “No. I believe everyone
who should be here, is.” She picked up her goblet, pressed the rim to her lips
then hesitated. “Which ladies do you mean?”

Belatedly it occurred to him that mentioning Aila’s name
would likely do him no favor with Elise. But she was staring at him with an
enquiring look on her face and clearly had no intention of allowing him to
bypass the issue.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ewan kiss the fingers of
one of the young women he’d disappeared with earlier that day. Obviously Ewan
would not be lacking for bed partners during their stay in Ce.

“I recall only one name.” He helped himself to another
serving of beef. To show his apparent nonchalance. “I believe she is called
Aila.”

Elise choked on her wine, but when he turned to her to see
if she required assistance, she had already composed herself.

“Are you well?” he said.

“Indeed.” She flashed him a smile but it didn’t reach her
eyes. They no longer sparkled with mirth. Instead it seemed a dark shadow had
touched her soul and as if to reinforce the notion a delicate shudder rippled
over her.

Intrigued as to why Aila’s name should cause such reaction,
he waited for her to continue. But she didn’t. She merely played with the stem
of her goblet and remained silent, as though her previous exuberant flirting
had all been a flimsy facade.

He should change the subject. Focus on Elise. He didn’t want
to spend yet another night alone and that was exactly his fate if he didn’t
recall the basic rules of seduction.

Elise was beautiful. Most certainly desirable. But he
couldn’t rid his mind of Aila.

“Are you acquainted with Lady Aila?”

Elise offered him a restrained smile. Aye, he’d fucked his
chances with her. Ewan would find it highly amusing in the morning.

“I’m acquainted with all the queen’s ladies.”

So she was one of the queen’s ladies. How then could she
teach in the monastery?

“Is she unwell?” She had worn a cloak despite the mildness
of the day. Although why it should concern him, he couldn’t fathom.

He wasn’t concerned for her health. Merely wanted
reassurance she wasn’t hiding this night because of him. It was scarcely
likely. And yet he couldn’t forget the mortified blush that had stained her
cheeks. Or erase the insidious feeling that he’d crushed something infinitely
precious and fragile.

“Lady Aila is…quite well.” Elise’s voice was oddly
contained, giving the impression her words conveyed their opposite meaning.
“Forgive me, Connor.” Once again she brushed her fingertips across his. “I have
a fearsome headache. I’ll return shortly.”

As Elise left the hall, he caught Ewan’s knowing grin.
Clearly his friend thought an illicit assignation was in process. Unheeding of
the orders he’d given his men, Connor drained his tankard but it did nothing
for the rising irritation heating his blood.

In the course of less than half a day, he had managed to
grievously insult two young women. For a moment, he contemplated finding a
willing serving girl. Perhaps if his cock gained satisfaction it would allow
his brain to once again function.

With a smothered curse he stood. He would find Elise,
apologize for his behavior. Explain he was merely concerned that he’d offended
Aila earlier that day, nothing more. If he was lucky, Elise would forgive him
and instead of another night of solitary gratification, he could lose himself
in her scented embrace.

With a sense of detached inevitability, Aila watched Connor
stride after Elise. She should have stayed in her chambers. At least that way
she wouldn’t have had to witness first hand, Connor succeed in seducing one of
her closest friends.

She turned from the spyhole and caught sight of her mother’s
appointed bodyguard. The thought of returning to Floradh so soon, of having to
pretend nothing was wrong, was too much. She didn’t want the stuffy, heated
confines of her bedchamber. She needed fresh air to clear her head. To scour
these foolish emotions that slithered through her chest like poisoned serpents.

What she really needed was for the Scots to leave Ce.

“Come, Drun.” She continued down the worn, stone steps, no
longer trying to smother her bubbling resentment. Connor’s arrival had
shattered her equilibrium, scattered her fragile sense of peace. And she didn’t
like what lurked beneath.

She left the hidden staircase and entered the outer hall of
the palace. But before she reached the door, Elise was by her side.

“Aila. I was coming to see you.” Elise looked strangely
flushed. All Aila could think about was Connor holding Elise in his powerful
arms. Crushing his body to hers. Claiming her lips with his.

“I must speak with you.” Elise glanced over her shoulder, as
if searching for her impatient lover. Aila had no doubt he’d be wonderful.
Inventive. Mindful of his lover’s pleasure.

God knew, Elise could do with such a man.

But so could she.

She gave a heavy sigh and took Elise’s hand. It was chilled.
The realization stabbed through her, incomprehensible.

It had been years since she had experienced such a thing.
She was the one whose hands were always icy. She only just prevented herself
from lifting Elise’s hand to stare at it.

“One of the Scots, Connor MacKenzie.” Elise’s voice was
hushed. For the first time Aila noticed the shadows in her cousin’s eyes, and
presentiment trickled along her arms. “He’s been asking about you.”

The sensation vaporized and foolish pleasure raced through
her. “What did he ask?” Not that she cared. Much.

“He wanted to know about the eldest Princess Devorgilla.”

And the pleasure died. He hadn’t been asking after her at
all. “And what did you tell him?” After the Scots returned to Dal Riada, she
would confide in Elise and they could comfort each other as to the cruelty of
men. But not yet. Not tonight, when her pride was so wounded.

“Nothing.” Elise widened her eyes and looked shocked by the
question. “But Aila, that’s not all.” Again she glanced over her shoulder, and
Aila followed her gaze. But the only others in the outer hall besides
themselves were countless servants and slaves who were attending to the needs
of the feast.

And the needs of the warriors. Her glance slid over to a
darkened corner where a slave girl was on her knees before one of the Scots. At
least it wasn’t Connor.

“He also asked after you.
Aila
.” Elise gripped her
fingers. “He thought you were two individual women. And, my love.” She cupped
Aila’s jaw, as though she were the elder cousin instead of five years Aila’s
junior. “He wants you.”

Aila ignored the way her heart knocked in response to
Elise’s words. “No. He doesn’t.” She attempted to laugh, failed dismally, so
shook her head instead. Even she had limits when it came to maintaining her
facade to the outside world. “I do believe it’s you he wants, Elise.”

Elise’s hand slid from Aila’s face and gripped her shoulder.
“I know you don’t believe in our ways anymore. But trust me on this. I know he
wants you. And I know a terrible darkness is descending.”

Aila recalled the blood-drenched memory—
not vision
—that
had assailed her the morning before the Scots’ arrival.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Not the fantasy that Connor
wanted her or the devastation Elise was so sure was approaching. “There are
always wars, Elise.”

Bloodshed was a way of life. But since the brutalizing
battles against the Vikings four years ago, there had been tentative peace
between Pict and Scot. Yet much as she distrusted the Scots, since her
disastrous encounter with Connor she had been unable to believe they were here
with malicious intention.

As if summoned by their whispered conversation, Connor
appeared through the throng. Tall and muscular, his hair no longer a wild black
mass, his foreign presence commanded attention. And in that brief, unguarded
moment, Aila saw dark, unbridled lust glowing in his eyes.

“Ladies.” Connor’s deep voice sent steamy tremors vibrating
through her blood, pooling into liquid heat between her thighs. She gripped her
cloak as if it were her savior, when all she really wanted to do was let it
drop to her feet and allow a cooling breeze to soothe her burning flesh.

She hoped the flames from her torch didn’t allow him to
witness her blush of mortification. Would this man always catch her off guard?

“Connor.” Elise tilted her head to one side and even though
Aila couldn’t see her face, she knew her cousin would be giving him that sultry
glance beneath her lashes that had men begging for more.

“I trust your headache is not causing you too much pain?”
Connor spoke to Elise, but for a fleeting second glanced in Aila’s direction.
Or had she imagined it? The flames so easily distorted vision.

Elise pressed the back of her hand against her forehead.
“I’m sure I will survive.” She moved toward the Scot. “Now, shall we return to
the feasting?”

Connor offered her a half-bow but instead of taking her arm,
he turned back to Aila. Her fingers tightened around the torch. What now?
Hadn’t he covered every topic of polite conversation on their walk back to the
palace this afternoon?

“Lady Aila.”

She inclined her head. He hadn’t been so formal earlier. She
almost told him who she really was, simply to see the shock on his face. But
what was the point?

It wouldn’t change anything.

“Connor.” Damned if she would address him any other way.
Elise hadn’t. And the childishness of her thought caused fresh irritation at
how this man managed to so completely unbalance her. Apparently without him
even trying, and somehow that made it worse.

“May I escort you and Lady Elise back to the feast?”

From the corner of her eye, she caught the sharp look Elise
shot her.
I told you.
Her cousin’s thought was as clear as if she had
said it aloud.

But Elise had no inkling of what had passed between her and
Connor earlier. She knew it wasn’t the Scot’s fault she’d misinterpreted his
attention. But it didn’t make her feel any better. He was the first stranger
she had willingly engaged in inconsequential banter with since her husband had
died. And he had pulled back.

“I’ve already dined.” Could she sound haughtier if she
tried? “I was merely going to…take some air.”

Their eyes locked. They might have been the only two people
in the hall. But even though she was aware of her cousin, even though she knew
that two dozen or more people passed through the hall, she couldn’t drag her
gaze away. The rest of the world faded, muted their incessant noise, leaving
her and Connor in a strange, untouched sphere.

“Perhaps,” Elise said, shattering the ethereal moment into
splinters of stark reality, “we should all take some air. It would greatly
relieve my headache and I’m sure Connor won’t mind offering us his protection
against the night.”

Aila shot her cousin a glare that Elise ignored as she
turned toward Connor. Who was still staring at Aila. Why did he continue to
stare at her?

If she didn’t know better, she’d imagine he lusted after
her. As Elise imagined.

“It would be my honor.” Finally he looked at Elise and
rejection scuttled through Aila’s bones.

For God’s sake. Disgusted by her reaction to every slightest
thing Connor MacKenzie said or did, she thrust the torch toward her bodyguard
who took it without a word. If she refused to join them outside, Connor might
read more into it than a simple rejection of his company. He might imagine he
had wounded her earlier that day. Might assume she wished to avoid him at all
costs.

The last thing she wanted to do was spend any more time with
him than absolutely necessary. And it was, of course, absolutely necessary that
she accompany him outside with Elise.

Since she could not quite justify her logic, she ignored it.

Elise took his arm. With a stab of alarm—
Certainly not
anticipation—
Aila watched him extend his other arm to her.

Her heart thundered, sending tremors of excitement
skittering through her blood. How tragic that she found the notion of holding
his arm so intoxicating.

For a moment, Connor thought Aila was going to refuse, but
then she gave a barely discernible sigh before she rested her hand on his
forearm.

Awareness sizzled through his skin where her hand rested
against his naked arm. Unbidden, images of them both entirely naked, entirely
alone, flashed through his overheated brain. A sideways glance proved Aila
looked as coolly remote as ever.

So cool, so remote. Had he imagined her interest earlier
this day? Surely a woman couldn’t so completely hide her true feelings?

As they approached the doors and Elise chattered inanely, he
risked shooting Aila another glance. Did she never remove her cloak? If he
hadn’t glimpsed her slender figure by the stream, he’d be inclined to believe
her quite shapeless.

His cock stirred, reminding him that Aila was anything but
shapeless.

The chill of the night was a welcome relief, except it did
nothing to relieve the escalating fire in his groin. He tried to focus on
Elise, maintain a semblance of sane conversation, but all he could think of was
the silent Aila.

Torches blazed outside. It was almost as bright as inside
the feasting hall. Pictish warriors stood guard and instead of strolling to a
more secluded location, Elise drew them to a halt at the perimeter of the fiery
glow.

“It’s quite an occasion, isn’t it, Aila?” Elise said from
his right. “Having so many fierce Scots as our guests?”

Aila’s fingers stirred against his arm. He thought she was
going to severe their tenuous contact and the insane notion stabbed through his
pounding brain to slide his fingers through hers. Trapping her so she had no
choice but to remain by his side.

But she didn’t remove her hand. She merely caressed his
skin, causing the hairs on his arm to stand on end. And damn it, that wasn’t
all that was standing at attention. If any more blood descended to his groin,
he’d likely pass out.

“Are you a fierce Scot, Connor?’ Aila sounded only
marginally interested in his response. And she remained gazing out into the
dark night, apparently fascinated by the view of shadows.

“If the occasion warrants it.” He had to stop staring at
her. But in the flickering glow from the countless torches, her hair looked
more magical. Her profile more delicate.

And the reason for her forbidden status receded even farther
into the depths of his conscience.

“If your king commands it.” She didn’t sound censorious.
Merely as though she stated a fact.

And, of course, it was a fact. For any warrior, no matter
their nationality.

“My king,” he said, “desires nothing but peace between our
people.” He couldn’t tell her the true reason he was in Ce, but his comment was
the truth nevertheless. Strong political marriages would eliminate, for the
most part, the constant need for war.

Finally she turned to him. The flames obscured the true
color of her eyes but they were no less mysterious for that.

“Peace.” There was a wistful note in her voice. “I desire
that too. More than anything.”

No longer were only the tips of her fingers grazing his
flesh. Her entire arm, from wrist to elbow, melded against his, her skin smooth
and soft and warm.

How easy it would be to pull her into his embrace. To feel
her lips beneath his. To plunge his fingers into her glorious, silken hair.
Good sense incinerated and primal desire that had nothing to do with peace
between kingdoms blazed through him.

She suddenly stiffened and drew back. And only then did he
realize his free hand had reached for her. That he had been a hairsbreadth from
stroking his fingers along her face, indulging his fantasy of drawing her into
his arms.

Not until her gaze slid from his did it even register that
Elise was no longer with them.

Aila pulled her cloak more securely about her. And despite
the inferno scorching his reason, an involuntary shiver crawled over his arm at
her withdrawal.

“I’ll keep you no longer.” Her tone was formal, her stance
unmistakably aloof. “Goodnight, Connor.” Without waiting for his response—but
God, what response could he give when what he wanted was the last thing he
could take?—she turned and walked regally back to the doors, her dog a faithful
shadow.

Aila kept her temper in check until she entered the palace
and caught sight of Elise hovering by the doors to the feasting hall. Her
cousin, after ensuring Connor wasn’t following, hastened to her side.

“Why are you back so soon?” Elise whispered, sounding put
out. Aila swung on her heel and marched toward the concealed stairway,
irrationally infuriated by Elise’s question. Elise followed her. “Aila, isn’t
it plain to you? Connor desires you. He can’t take his eyes from you.”

Aila stamped up the stairs, for once unthinking of Drun’s
inability to navigate steps without great discomfort. But Elise did not take
the hint and continued to follow her. Only when they reached the door to Aila’s
chambers and the guard resumed his place along the corridor did she turn, grip
Elise’s wrist and pull her into the room.

Floradh glanced up at their entry and after a calculating
glance at Aila she retired to the antechamber, leaving them alone in the
bedchamber.

“Well?” Elise demanded.

Aila rounded on her. “What possessed you to leave us out
there alone?” But the real question was why hadn’t she noticed Elise leaving?
Was she truly so besotted by the cursed Scot that he blinded her to what
happened before her very eyes?

Elise gripped Aila’s hands and appeared not to notice when
she tried to pull back.

“He was the Scot you were seen walking with earlier today,
wasn’t he?” Elise appeared thrilled by her deduction and Aila glowered.
Obviously that nonevent was now common knowledge. “Why didn’t you tell me,
Aila? I thought Connor had seen you from afar and wanted to make your closer
acquaintance.”

Finally Aila succeeded in wrenching herself free. She flung
her cloak onto the oak chest, began to make her way to the fire to warm her
hands and then realized there was no need. Her fingers were far from chilled.
In fact she was so irate her skin burned.

“Connor most certainly does not wish to make my closer
acquaintance.” Just because he kept looking at her, just because he had ignored
Elise in favor of addressing her—didn’t mean anything.

Elise wrapped her arms around her waist and danced across
the floor. “I might not have existed for all the notice he took of me.” Elise
spun to a halt in front of Aila, amusement bubbling in her voice, glittering in
her eyes. “And you can deny it all you wish, but I know you find his appearance
pleasing.”

Ravishing was how she found Connor, but she could scarcely
admit that to herself, never mind her dearest friend. “Elise, it doesn’t matter
what I may or may not feel toward him. Now will you kindly—”

“Oh, Aila.” The gaiety vanished from Elise’s voice as she
once again gripped Aila’s hands.

With a smothered sigh she let her. There was no help for it.
She would have to confide, otherwise Elise would keep on and on, convinced she
was right about the direction of Connor’s regard. “I would never suggest you
could love another. I know how your heart is forever entwined with Onuist.”
Elise lowered her head as a mark of respect for Aila’s young husband, a man she
had met only a handful of times while still a child. A man she knew only
through songs of the bards and his last magnificent act of heroism that had
cost him his life.

Corrosive guilt twisted deep inside Aila. She knew she could
never love again. But why did everyone believe that was her fate?

Heat flared through her although she was far from the fire.
Why was she thinking of love? It was lust she felt for Connor. She could admit
to that, if nothing else. Yet even that went against the teachings of the
church.

The new church.

The church she had embraced after rejecting Bride.

“But, Aila.” Elise tugged on her hands to regain her
attention. “A little flirtation—what is wrong with that? Connor is beautiful
and strong. He would make a wonderful distraction, don’t you think?”

He was already a distraction. One she feared would linger
long after the Scots had returned to Dal Riada.

“Yes.” It was an admission of more than Elise imagined. More
than Aila was willing to examine. An admission that, after so many years of
welcomed celibacy, primal desire once again stirred deep in her soul. And not
for a safe, dream-lover.

Elise smiled in clear triumph. “Then return with me to the
feasting hall. Take my place next to Connor. And if—”

“Elise. I offered my friendship earlier this day. I mistook
his kindness for something more.” Even now, hours later, that admission still
possessed the power to make her cringe. “He may not loathe my company but he
most certainly doesn’t want what you’re suggesting.” But why had he followed
her if he hadn’t been interested?

“But that can’t be.” Elise frowned, clearly confused. “I
know he deeply regards you, Aila. You must be mistaken.”

“You also know dark devastation is coming.” Her voice was
scathing, despite the stubborn shard in her soul that refused to entirely
disbelieve. “What of that, Elise? How do you reconcile Connor’s alleged regard
for me with that?”

Regret seared her at the stricken look on Elise’s face. She
had no right to mock Elise’s beliefs. Not when for almost two-thirds of her own
life she had believed in them also. When she had imagined her destiny lay in
becoming a priestess dedicated to the ancient ways.

“I don’t know.” Elise released her hands and twisted her
fingers together, a clear sign of her agitation, and shame clawed through
Aila’s heart. “The two are connected and yet not. It was so fleeting, Aila.
I’ll give sacrifice and beg for the goddess’s advice.”