Adrienne Basso (18 page)

Yet Fiona pretended not to notice, inspected the palm of her hand with great interest, though she would have to be blind as a bat not to see the evidence of his desire. Gavin tried to hide his disappointment as Fiona busied herself clearing the remains of their repast. His ploy hadn’t worked. She had clearly gotten his message, yet preferred to ignore it.

She crumbled the uneaten crust of the meat pie and tossed it on the grass. “For the birds,” she explained when Gavin raised his brows.

“Ye’re too tenderhearted,” he quipped.

“Hardly a fault.” Fiona’s lips rose into a wavy smile as she leaned down and placed her palms on the sleek muscles of his shoulders. Their eyes met. Gavin felt his body harden, felt the temptation.

“If you are going to ravish me, my lord, you’d best get started while we still have daylight.”

Gavin’s features contorted into confusion and Fiona’s smile widened. She liked that she could surprise him, could catch him off guard. It gave her a feeling of control, a sense that she had an equal part in their relationship.

Fiona pressed herself closer, draping her body across Gavin’s. They were face-to-face, chins nearly touching. He leaned back on his elbows to give her greater access, blinking against the glare of sunlight that fell over his eyes from that prone position.

She stared at his mouth and felt desire stir within her, tightening her nipples, heating and dampening her inner thighs. Yet Gavin appeared unaffected. His expression was content, almost lazy, his eyelids lowering as though he were going to sleep.

Does he know how he makes me feel?

Lifting her chin, Fiona kissed him. Gavin’s languid pose disappeared instantly and his lips parted eagerly, encouraging the sensual teasing play of her tongue. Lost in the haze of desire, Fiona moved her lips and tongue in a slow, provocative rhythm. Rejoicing in the sensations, she ran her hands over his hard body, drawing infinite pleasure from the touch.

Was this the usual reaction between lovers? Did their hearts race and their blood warm and their breaths catch whenever they drew near? Did they joke and tease and laugh together? Did they share their thoughts and hopes with the same commitment as their bodies? Did they hold and keep each other as fiercely as they claimed one another?

Fiona shifted her position again. Gavin inhaled sharply, then let out a soft groan. The evidence of his arousal was hard and unmistakable, poking insistently into her soft belly. She felt her body responding to his as a matter of course and wondered at the intensity of the mysterious bond they shared.

She looked at him another minute and then allowed the dam inside her to break. The feelings of hope and passion and excitement rushed forth, filling Fiona with purpose.

It took little effort to rapidly divest Gavin of his clothes. His muscles rippled as he stretched his arms over his head, switching to a more comfortable position. Fiona had always admired his fit body, yet seeing it unclothed in the bright light of day was an almost humbling experience.

In her eyes, he was beautiful. Some might object to the puckered scar across his left shoulder or find the thick, dark swirls of hair that cover his upper chest and lower abdomen unattractive. But not her. Scars and all, imperfect as God made him, her attention was fully captivated by this noble man.

Emboldened, she flattened her palm on the tight muscles of his flat belly. He squirmed as the tips of her fingers sensually traced the heated flesh from side to side. With each movement, her hand deliberately went lower and lower, causing his whole body to clench.

Fiona stilled and put her hand over his heart. The sound of Gavin’s breaths coming in short, sharp pants made her feel wicked. And free. She wanted more of it. Glorying in the freedom, she continued with her explorations, this time using her lips. His muscled flesh was warm in most places, yet hot in others.

She began kissing his stomach as she ran her fingers lightly along his inner thighs. Gavin’s hips jerked forward. Eagerly, Fiona grasped them and pulled him closer, blowing a warm breath on his turgid penis.

“Is it all right if I . . . ?” Fiona inquired in a throaty tone, her voice trailing off deliberately.

“Ye’re a witch to tease and torture me,” he rasped, moving his hands down her back until he cupped her bottom.

Fiona raised her head and assumed an air of innocence. “Do you wish me to stop?”

“Minx. Ye know very well my heart will shatter from disappointment if ye turn away from me now.”

“That sounds dreadfully serious, my lord.” Fiona swirled her tongue teasingly through the springy hair at the base of his manhood. “I simply cannot allow it.”

“Jesus, lass,” he said raggedly.

She took his straining penis into her mouth, first stroking his length with her tongue, then surrounding the sensitive tip with her lips. She heard his gasp of shock, quickly followed by a series of deep moans of pleasure.

From this angle it was impossible to see his jaw clench and strain, but Fiona could easily imagine it. She continued her ministrations, her tongue stroking slickly against his hardness, increasing the pressure and rhythm, mimicking the act of love.

She licked and suckled and teased every inch of him, caressing his length with her tongue, massaging his inner thighs and heavy sack with her fingertips. Inexperienced with the act, Fiona let Gavin’s reactions guide her moves, his writhing hips letting her know she was getting it right.

Suddenly, he grasped her shoulders firmly and groaned loud and long. He tried to pull away from her, but she held fast, overwhelmed by the trusting intimacy of the act.

“My God, Fiona.”

His hips jerked and she felt the searing heat of his seed on her tongue. It was the most intimate, erotic thing she had ever experienced and she sighed deeply with pleasure, savoring every moment, continuing to gently absorb his pulsing quivers as they slowed and then finally ceased.

“Did I please you?” she whispered, when she was at last able to catch her breath.

Like a lazy, contented cat, Gavin stretched his back and shoulders and raised himself on his elbows. His head was tilted against the tree trunk and he watched her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Nay, ye dinnae please me, Fiona. Ye astounded and delighted me. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“I knew you’d like it,” she confessed, running her hands across his damp chest.

His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head. Copying his feline movements, Fiona snuggled against him, stretching and pressing, caressing him with her entire body. It felt wantonly sinful to rub his taut, naked flesh while she remained fully clothed. Gavin apparently felt the same, judging by his low-throated groans.

“Gavin,” she murmured, looking down at his large, callused hands. Masculine and strong, yet they held her with such tenderness. It was part of the enigma Fiona found so irresistible. “Will you make love to me now?”

They worked together to push her gown up and out of the way. He grasped her hand and pressed a tender kiss in her palm, so delicately, reverently, as though she were as fragile and precious as the blown glass perfume bottle he had bought for her.

When Gavin spread her thighs with his knees and moved between her legs, Fiona reached up joyfully to embrace him, longing for the moment when they would once again be joined as one. He entered her slick warmth forcefully, filling the emptiness inside with one strong thrust. She moaned and arched, pulling him deeper. Passion rising, she clung to him, kissing his neck, his shoulder, his cheek. She could feel his heart beating against her breast in a synchronized rhythm. Together. As one.

“Fiona, my love,” he groaned, sinking deeper.

My love?
His gentle words brought tears to her eyes. He doesn’t mean it, she reprimanded herself sternly. He is merely caught in the pleasure of it all, lost in a moment of passion.

Still, the words surrounded her heart as strongly as his body surrounded her flesh. The empty yearning inside her eased, the protective shell she tried so hard to maintain began to splinter and crack. Here and now, in this moment of sheer honesty, she let herself embrace her deepest feelings without restraint, allowed herself to experience what she had never believed possible.

He kissed her hard, pushing himself deeper inside. She flexed her inner muscles, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. Every inch of her throbbed at the feel of him. The tenderness in his eyes seared her heart, scorched her soul.

She parted her thighs to try and bring him deeper, lifting her hips to follow his rhythm. The gesture drove him wild. Gavin moved faster and faster, pounding his flesh against hers, willing her sensitive flesh to crest, to explode. Claiming her mouth once again, he slipped his fingers between their bodies, caressing the delicate flesh where they were joined.

Fiona felt herself responding immediately, her body shattering, crashing. She let out a thin, high cry of exhilaration as the pleasure broke and oblivion claimed her.

The final pulses of pleasure were still rippling through her body when she felt Gavin’s urgent, violent shudders begin. It rippled through her body and she felt herself responding, losing herself in the wonder of knowing in this moment he was utterly and completely hers.

It slowed, then stopped, yet Fiona continued to hold Gavin tightly. She could feel his forehead resting against hers. Finally, she managed to open her eyes and found Gavin staring into them, the intensity of his emotions nearly overwhelming. For a long moment she became lost in his gaze, linked to him beyond the physical, beyond the emotional.

Time stilled.

The passionate fire was still evident in the depths of his blue eyes, but it was overshadowed by tenderness. Fiona pressed her face into the solid wall of his shoulder, inhaling the familiar musky scent. The ancients might have developed a method to create perfume, but this was a fragrance that she would pay any price to have within her reach.

Burrowing closer, she basked in the sweet afterglow of pleasure, savoring the protective, loving feeling pouring through her, shutting her mind to any thoughts of the future.

This is
, she decided,
a most perfect moment
. And she was determined to catch and hold it tight for as long as possible. Secure and comforted, Fiona dozed, the smile on her lips still evident when she awoke.

Yet as she watched Gavin dress, it was impossible not to reflect on what had just happened between them. What she shared with Gavin was stronger than anything she had ever known. The way he made her feel, the kindness she saw hiding behind his rough command, the tenderness beneath his tough exterior. Fiona closed her eyes, overcome with emotions that gripped her from deep inside.

In that bittersweet moment Fiona admitted what she had long suspected. Despite her best efforts to remain immune, to hold fast to her defenses, it had happened.

The revelation made her feel light-headed and she nearly stumbled and lost her footing.

“Careful, Fiona.”

His deep voice rang out at the same time his strong arms reached out. To hold her. To steady her. To prevent her from coming to harm.

But for how long? Fiona shivered as the cold, cruel hand of reality closed around her heart.

The smell of roasting meat drew Ewan’s attention to the crackling fire. He had trapped two hares early this morning and the skinned pair were now being slowly turned on a spit over the flames. It would provide a fine afternoon meal for him and his companion, once William returned from the village.

Information was critical for the survival of Ewan and his men and William was his best informant. Not many paid attention to the skinny youth who slid unobtrusively throughout the village, his ears attuned to any and all gossip. With summer coming to a close, it was essential that they learn when the various crops were being harvested and where the yield was going to be stored.

Like any good provider, Ewan was very aware that he needed to start laying in stores for the winter for himself, his mother, the men who followed him, and their families. Since they had no large fields to grow any food for themselves, it was necessary to
acquire
whatever they needed. And just like honest men who toiled in the fields, it was necessary to start planning and storing these goods away as soon as they were able.

A strong wind shifted through the leafy trees, but both the fire and Ewan were well protected. He heard the swallows chirping, but his mind was occupied with more important matters than the singing birds.

A rustling in the brush had Ewan reaching for his sword. William emerged from the woods, a smug expression on his face.

“It smells grand.” Licking his lips, the young man sat down on a low boulder across from Ewan. “Is it ready?”

Ewan smiled, remembering well his own ravenous hunger when he was William’s age. “Have a care not to burn yer fingers or yer tongue,” he warned as he hacked off a quarter of the hare and passed it over.

William bit into the charred meat with relish, wiping the meat juices that trickled down his chin with his shirtsleeve.

“I did as ye bid and stayed away from the shops, but it grew harder when my belly started to growl.” William wiped the last bit of meat juice off his chin, then gazed hopefully at Ewan.

Damn, the lad could eat the legs off a table. Silently, Ewan sliced off another large portion of the rabbit and placed it in William’s eagerly outstretched hands.

“Did ye hear anything of interest?” Ewan asked.

“Aye. They’ll be sending a cart full of grain to the abbey on Friday next,” William answered before taking another bite. “’Twill have an escort, but there shouldn’t be too many soldiers.”

“We can handle them. A full grain cart is too ripe an opportunity to let pass.” Ewan poked at the flame with the long end of a stick. “What other news?”

“Well, ye already know about the fair they held last week.”

“Aye.” Ewan sighed. A fair was no small matter, something that brought excitement and pleasure. Several of his men had wanted to attend, but Ewan had forbidden it, fearing they might be recognized and captured. There was grumbling and annoyance, but as far as Ewan knew, he had been obeyed.

“There was still a lot of talk about the day the McKennas rode through, led by their laird,” William reported. “They only stayed fer a few hours, but the earl provided a feast fer them. The cooks were complaining about the food they had to prepare at the last minute since all the McKenna guardsmen were invited into the great hall to partake.”

Och, now that must have cost the earl dearly. Hospitality was one thing, a large feast another. The earl obviously wanted to impress the McKennas. Why?

“What else?” Ewan asked.

“The earl’s got himself a leman.” William tossed the rabbit bones, now picked clean, onto a small pile and rubbed his stomach. “Her name is Lady Fiona.”

“Is she blond?” Ewan asked, wanting to confirm the identity of the woman he had seen at the loch a few weeks ago.

“I dinnae see her. The men say she is a golden beauty, but the women, fie, the women said ’tis disgraceful. She’s an English noblewoman. A widow with a son.”

“English? Are ye certain ye heard that right?”

“I did indeed.” William slapped at the bug that had settled on his arm. “Heard it from nearly everyone who mentioned her.”

Ewan stroked his chin thoughtfully. Now that was an interesting tidbit. It had to be a passing fancy, keeping an Englishwoman inside the castle, not a situation that would continue for very long. And when the earl was finished with her . . .

Ewan rubbed his neck. The power of a woman scorned could never be underestimated. All he need do was look to his own mother to see the effects. The hatred she carried was twisted deep inside her soul.

Would this Lady Fiona feel the same way once she and the earl parted?

If so, she could become an ally. Who knew what secrets she had uncovered while living inside the castle, sleeping in the earl’s bed? The information that she could provide would be invaluable, making Ewan’s goal to cause trouble for his half brother easier and much more effective.

The fire hissed as the dripping rabbit juices fell. William looked toward the spit with longing. Without asking, Ewan pulled off the remaining section of one of the hares and passed it over to the lad. He had more than earned his meal this day.

While William ate, Ewan pondered, his mind again returning to the earl’s mistress. He was convinced this mysterious woman was the key to striking at the heart of the earl’s holdings. All he need do was figure out how to cross paths with her.

 

 

“Have ye made yer decision?” Duncan asked.

Gavin felt a hitch in his chest and the biting pull of invisible chains around his entire body at the question. His duty to his king and his clan could not be ignored or stalled any longer. He needed to make an offer to one of the women Robert had suggested and take a wife.

To that end, he had sent Duncan on a mission to the Sinclair clan three days ago. He had returned with a favorable report of the clan, and Lady Aileen, leaving Gavin with no legitimate excuses or reasons to delay.

He stomped down the corridor and Duncan followed. Gavin was distracted, tired, and ornery and in no mood for this conversation.

“I’ve taken into account what ye learned on yer visit and have decided to offer fer Sinclair’s daughter. Along with his lands and wealth, he’s got the best-trained, most disciplined soldiers. That makes marrying her the best choice.”

“She’s fair to look at, with a lively spirit and a fine figure,” Duncan added. “I was surprised to see she has red hair, yet I’m certain ’tis not the mark of the devil.”

“She’s a girl,” Gavin said harshly, the reality of it striking at him with a jolt of clarity.

“She turned eighteen last month,” Duncan protested.

“I’m nearly twice her age.”

“If yer displeased with the lass, then ye should consider one of the others,” Duncan exclaimed, obviously puzzled by Gavin’s sour mood.

“I have a duty,” Gavin retorted.

“Aye, there’s duty and then there’s martyrdom.”

Gavin glared at Duncan, all the more annoyed because he knew Duncan was right. He was acting like a willful child, ill-tempered because he didn’t get his way. His two other marriages had been arranged, and though of short duration, they had been pleasant. There was no reason this third union should not also be successful.

The skin on the back of his neck tightened. The unfairness of it all crept up and seized his heart. Gavin sought refuge in logic and duty, praying that somehow that would make this intolerable situation bearable.

“Aileen Sinclair is a suitable choice.” Gavin’s mouth pulled into a grim line. “She knows her duty, as do I, and will therefore be a proper, respectful wife to me.”

Duncan’s hearty agreement was drowned out by the sound of a feminine gasp of outrage. Gavin swung around and spied Fiona standing a short distance away, her face a mask of shock.

“Fiona . . .”

She turned and started running.

 

 

Married? He is going to be married?
Fiona reared back, feeling as though she’d been slapped. Pain sliced through her like a steel blade, almost suffocating her in its intensity. Blindly, she staggered forward, falling to her knees as a wave of hurt enveloped her, crushing her heart.

Gavin was going to take a wife, pledge himself to another woman. Care for her, protect her, make love to her. She would sit at his side and share his bed and bare his children. It was the thing Fiona had dreaded and feared most, but she had pushed it to the back of her mind, convincing herself that she would be long gone from Gavin’s life when it happened.

If it happened. Panic squeezed her chest. Saints preserve her, it was going to happen!

Why?
Yet even as the question burst into her mind, Fiona knew the answer. He was an earl, a Scottish earl. He had a duty. To his king. To his country. To his clan. A duty that overshadowed the wants and desires of the widow of an English baron.

No matter how deeply she loved him.

“Fiona!”

Oh, Lord, no! Away, I must get away.
Fiona struggled to breathe as panic overtook her. Her chest ached in a way that made her fear there wasn’t enough air in the room. She ran as fast as her legs would move, but she was no match for Gavin’s agile feet.

He reached her just as she started to climb the stairs, seeking the comfort and solitude of her small chamber. Grabbing her arm, Gavin pulled her to a stop. She could feel his fingers burning through the fabric of her gown into her skin. A touch she had craved, a touch that had brought her such pleasure and joy.

But no longer.

“Ye heard us talking?”

Fiona stiffened and turned away. “Yes, I heard. You have decided to marry again. And you’ve chosen a young woman named Aileen Sinclair.” Fiona kept her gaze fastened on the wall and concentrated on slowing her breath. “I wish you both great happiness.”

A sick feeling rushed over her as hot burning tears crowded the back of Fiona’s throat. She pressed her closed fists to her eyes, holding them back. All she wanted was to escape to some dark, private corner where she could weep, but that would have to wait. Fiona had no idea how, but she kept her composure and was able to finally turn to him.

He gave her a bleak look. At the sight of it, the tears came, rolling silently down her cheeks. He was everything she could want in a man—kind and funny, strong and loving, intelligent and tolerant. She wanted him to be the man she worked beside each day and slept beside each night. She wanted him forever.

He’s going to marry another woman.
She looked at him helplessly. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why did politics and position have to play such a dominant role in their lives?

The trembling of her limbs wouldn’t stop. Fiona wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. Whenever she had encountered adversity, she had always strived to face it head-on, to tackle the problem aggressively and find a solution.

But this, oh this, was unbearable. It felt as though her very soul was shriveling with pain. Bitterly, she wondered why she was surprised. Any emotion that lifted her so soaringly high would logically fall so despairingly low.

“’Tis apolitical alliance,” Gavin declared. “It means nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sure your new bride will be delighted to hear that.” Despite her own pain, Fiona’s heart lurched with pity. “Honestly, Gavin, how can you be so cruel? This poor, unsuspecting girl deserves more from you.”

“She cannae have what I cannae give. My marriage will change nothing between us. I care for ye, Fiona. With all my heart and soul.”

But that doesn’t matter.
The unfairness of it all clamped around Fiona’s throat like a vise. She was foolish to have ever speculated about a future together, let alone a permanent one. A lasting relationship between them was impossible. It had always been impossible. But she had been too caught up in the beauty and wonder of her love for Gavin to fully consider it. And that mistake was now going to cost her in heartache.

“When I first heard you speak of marrying another, I confess I felt pity for myself.” Using the final ounce of her inner strength and resolve, Fiona drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “But now I shall pity all three of us—you, me, and your bride.”

Sounds drifted in from the great hall. Gavin’s head turned. Her cheeks heated at the very idea that someone else would appear and witness her mortification. Taking advantage of the distraction, Fiona disappeared without another word.

Sleep was impossible later that night. Fiona remained locked inside her small chamber for the rest of the afternoon and evening, stoically climbing into the cold, unfamiliar bed only when Alice insisted. She had refused Gavin’s pleas to speak with him and had rather viciously torn up a note he sent, the sounds of the tearing parchment causing a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

Knowing her restless turning would awaken Alice, who slept on a pallet near the door, Fiona sat huddled beneath the thin coverlet. Tucking her knees close to her chest, she stared out into the dark, miserable night, yearning for what she could never have, could never capture and hold.

She watched the dawn slowly break, bringing the warming sunlight to all it touched. If only it could penetrate her heart and heal the frozen pain, she thought.

But sunshine quickly fled and the rains began, steady and hard. How ironic. Even the weather joined her in sorrow. Fiona bathed her swollen eyes, knowing she had to face the reality of the situation. She wasn’t precisely certain what she was going to do next. All she did know was that staying here and watching Gavin marry another woman would crush the already shattered pieces of her heart.

Somehow, she must devise a way to leave.

 

 

Father Niall was placing a newly embroidered cloth on the altar when Fiona approached him in the chapel. She had waited until everyone had broken their fast and left the great hall before slipping away, grateful to have avoided meeting Gavin.