Craving the Highlander's Touch (4 page)

He shook his head. Alys rested against the wall, her knees feeling shaken by the encounter. When he gently touched her face, she admitted, “I don’t know why I kissed you.”

“You’ve lost a great deal,” he answered. “And sometimes it helps to have human comfort.”

Finian raised her hand to his face, pressing a kiss against her palm. “We’ll go now to find the soldier’s camp. But I’ll return to you, I promise.”

She nodded, feeling the tendrils of fear snaking around her heart. “I’ll be waiting.”

It was nearing sunset when Finian returned with his brother Brochain, after scouting the remainder of the English garrison. His mood was sober, for it was clear the soldiers hadn’t retreated far.

“Do you think it’s safe to stay here one more night?” Brochain questioned.

Finian nodded. “But no longer. They’re waiting for Lady Harkirk to bring the silver.”

“I don’t trust them,” his brother said. “They might return.”

“Possibly. We’ll patrol the gate tonight,” Finian said. “I’ll take the first watch and set the outer wall on fire again if they return. If they try to invade, they’ll have to pass through fire to do it.”

His brother gave a nod and returned through the gate first. When Finian entered the fortress, he could smell the scent of a rich, bubbling stew. He passed through the inner courtyard, entering the tower. At the doorway to the hall, he paused, watching over the women. The three of them were seated at the trestle table, and Iliana was eating. Upon her head, she wore a crown of yellow dandelions, and she laughed as Lady Harkirk removed her own necklace of flowers and placed it around Iliana’s neck.

The laughter sealed his feet to the floor, and his throat clenched at the sound. He hadn’t heard his daughter laugh in so long. When she’d been taken from him, his nights had been filled with endless nightmares.

He hadn’t expected her to be happy again, nor to enjoy such girlish pastimes. It was easy to admit that he hadn’t been the best of fathers. Though his sister had tried to be a mother figure, it wasn’t the same.

Lady Harkirk reached over and smoothed Iliana’s hair. Then, he realized that she’d plaited the short strands, making a loose coronet. She’d tried to make his daughter beautiful, and in that moment, he wanted to cross the room and crush both of them in his arms.

As it was, he came to join them at the table. His daughter embraced him in welcome and sat beside him, chattering about how she’d spent her day. He hardly heard any of the words, for he found himself staring at Lady Harkirk. Her green eyes held amusement as she sent her maid for a bowl of stew, which was placed before him. Brochain and the rest of his kinsmen sat at the far end of the table.

“Did you find them?” Lady Harkirk asked at last.

In her voice, he heard the fear, and he gave a nod. “They’re camped about two miles from here. At least three dozen have gathered together.”

Her face whitened. “Do we need to leave tonight?”

“I think they’ll wait for morning, since they believe you have the silver. I’ll guard the gate during the first few hours, and between Brochain and the others, we’ll keep you safe.”

He leaned over to his daughter. “We’ll be leaving before dawn, Iliana. Best get some rest now, while you can.” He gave her a hug and adjusted the crown of flowers.

The maid escorted his daughter above stairs, while Finian finished his meal. He could see the worry rising on Lady Harkirk’s face, and he reached out to take her hand. “I won’t let anything happen.”

She squeezed his hand but didn’t smile. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Try to get some sleep, if you can.”

Sleep was impossible. Alys sat in a chair beside the fire, resting her head in her hands. She’d ordered her maid to sleep with Iliana, and she had returned to her husband’s bedchamber, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Inside, she was sickened, so afraid that soldiers would attack during the night and tear the fortress apart in search of the silver they believed was here.

The door swung open and Finian stood there. As soon as he saw her, he started to leave. “Forgive me for intruding. Brochain is on watch now, and I meant only to see if you were all right.”

Alys didn’t move. Though it was nearing midnight, she was ashamed to admit that she welcomed his presence. “Come in and let me look at your back,” she bade him. “How is it feeling?”

He closed the door but didn’t move at all. “The salve helped. It’s a little sore, but I hardly notice any pain.”

He was going to leave; she knew it. And though it was better for them, she stared down at her lap, feeling overwhelmed by the troubled thoughts rising.

“I wanted to thank you for the day you spent with Iliana,” he said softly. “You made her smile with the flowers.”

She nodded, hiding her face from him. “Your daughter is a good girl. I’m sorry I had to cut her hair to disguise her as a boy.”

“You saved her life and took her from captivity.” Kneeling before her, he added, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you in return.”

Heated tears formed in her eyes, blurring her vision. Though she knew he was speaking of her future, giving her a place to live and a means of survival, she couldn’t think of that now. All she wanted was to silence the years of guilt that lay upon her shoulders.

“I couldn’t save all of his prisoners. And it breaks me apart inside to think of it.”

One of the tears broke free, and Finian pulled her into his arms, offering her comfort. “You’re not responsible for Harkirk’s sins.”

She held him back, needing the strength of his arms. He drew her to stand, and she rested her face against his broad chest, hearing the pulse of his heart beating.

For a moment, he let her stay in his arms before he stepped back. There was a sudden change in his expression. “Do you grieve for your husband?”

She took a deep breath and met his gaze squarely. “No. I’m glad he’s gone.”

Finian held still, his gray eyes searching hers. Then he leaned in, his mouth resting a breath above hers. “Do you want me to leave?”

From deep inside, heat flooded through her body. She remembered the touch of his hands upon her skin, the way his body had nestled against hers while he’d caressed her intimately.

And in his eyes right now, she saw the burning need that echoed her own. She lifted her face to his. “I should ask you to go.” Winding her arms around his neck, she added, “But I don’t want to be alone.”

Finian turned her to face the bed, drawing both arms around her. He was giving her time to think clearly, time to send him away.

“I was married to Robert when I was sixteen,” Alys murmured. “Hardly more than a child.” Her gaze moved over to the bed, and her heart hardened at the sight of it. “I was nothing to him.”

Inside, she felt the anger take root and grow. “I was miserable as his wife.”

“It was his fault. Not yours.”

Embarrassment grew from deep inside her, but she wanted him to know the truth. “The only time I ever felt any pleasure in that bed was when you touched me the other night.”

Even if he had called her by his wife’s name. She knew he’d been dreaming, his mind caught up in the spell between them.

“What do you want from me, Lady Harkirk?” he whispered, moving his hands to the bare skin of her nape.

“Don’t call me by his name,” she urged. “I am Lady Harkirk no longer. Only Alys.”

“Alys,” he repeated. His hands massaged the nape of her neck, moving down her braid until he unraveled it. He spread the long strands through his hands and asked, “Do you want me to leave you untouched?”

The very thought of baring herself to this man, of letting him openly touch her, made her vulnerable. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It frightens me, what you make me feel inside.”

His hands stilled upon her body, and she knew that his honor would keep him from touching her. One word, and he would leave her alone.

Her eyes moved back to the bed, and she worried about whether or not he would find her wanting. For so long, she’d tried to atone for her husband’s crimes, living her life to save those she could.

If she took Finian MacLachor into her bed, it meant the ultimate act of defiance against her husband. Though they were wed no longer, his spirit haunted her.

“I want you to stay,” she admitted, “and drive out the bad memories.”

“You’re certain about this?”

Her answer was to loosen her gown, raising her arms and lifting it away. Finian knelt at her feet, taking her shift in his hands. He lifted it slowly, using his knuckles to caress the softness of her skin as he bared her nudity.

“When I’m through with you,” he whispered against the flesh of her stomach, “you won’t remember a single year of your marriage.”

She stood naked before him, and he removed his own clothing. His body was solid muscle, firm and sun-darkened. But she worried about the wounds he’d suffered. “Will it hurt you?” she asked, her fingers lightly tracing the lash marks upon his back.

“There will be no pain in it…not for you, and most definitely not for me.” He picked her up in his arms and laid her upon the linen sheets of the bed. “But there’s something I must ask of you.”

She looked into his gray eyes, waiting. He sat beside her, moving his hand down her throat, toward the curve of her breast. “Tell me if anything I do feels good to you.”

“And if it does?” she whispered.

“I’m going to do it again, until you’re begging me to join my body with yours.”

Finian’s hand came down to caress her breast, his thumb edging the tight nipple. A tremulous sensation broke over her, and Alys gave herself over to the unexpected aching. She closed her eyes, leaning against him as he rubbed the tip. Abruptly, he took his hand away. “Remember what I asked you.”

The struggle between modesty and her desire to forget the past warred inside her until she guided his hand back to her breast. “It feels good when you touch me there.”

As if to reward her for the confession, he nibbled at her fingertips, moistening them. Then he brought her own fingers down to one of her nipples, urging her to stroke the damp skin. Goose flesh rose upon her breasts, and he blew his warm breath upon the other nipple with his mouth. She let out a shivered breath at the tantalizing response.

Her body erupted with liquid heat as his hands passed over her ribs, to her stomach. He palmed her bottom, gently parting her legs with one hand. Then he sat back, staring at her upon the bed. The instinct to pull away came over her without warning, and she tried to close her knees. Immediately, he stopped, pulling his hand away.

“You took me by surprise,” she admitted.

“It was only yesterday that you lost your husband.” Reaching down, Finian pulled the coverlet over her body. He rolled her over, resting beside her. “I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

He truly intended to leave her alone, she realized. He wasn’t going to make love with her because he believed she was using him to forget the past.

She lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling.
Was
that what she was doing? Using this man? Slowly, she looked over at him. Finian was the only man she’d ever met who had kept his promises to others. Though he’d wronged the MacKinloch clan in the past, Finian had made amends and saved the chief’s daughter. He’d given his vow to take care of her, granting her the choice of where to go.

If he were to walk out of her life so that she never saw him again, she would feel the emptiness of losing him. When he looked upon her, he made her feel as if she’d given him back the world. As if she were worthy of being loved.

“On my wedding night, Robert tore off my shift in front of the witnesses. He consummated the marriage and I remember nothing but humiliation from the first night I spent on this bed.”

Finian said nothing, but she saw the flash of anger in his eyes.

“I learned to lie still and endure it. And I was glad when he took mistresses, for then he left me alone.”

Alys rolled to her side, pressing her bottom against the length of Finian’s shaft. His arms came up around her, and he whispered in her ear, “If he were still alive, I’d kill him for that.”

She moved his hand back to her breast, then touched his heavy thigh. “I want to know what it would have been like with a man who cared for me.”

Within her words, Finian heard the sadness. And when she took his hand, moving it against her erect nipple and down lower, he fought to keep his desire under control. She guided his hand back to the entrance of her womanhood, his palm resting against the silken curls.

But when she reached back and moved his shaft between her legs, he nearly lost his senses. He could feel the moisture there, the sensual mystery of her.

“We hardly know each other,” he murmured against her nape, his fingers searching for the hooded flesh above her cleft. “Do you truly want a stranger in your bed?”

“You’re not a stranger,” she said, her palm surrounding his length. When she stroked him, he let out a hiss, answering her gesture by sliding a single finger within her wet center.

“Who am I to you, then?”

“The man who gave me back a part of myself.” She squeezed him lightly, her thumb edging the bead of fluid upon his manhood. “The night you touched me, I felt like the wife I should have been. And I want you to show me the rest.”

He stripped back the coverlet, drinking in the sight of her naked body. Her full, rounded breasts were tipped with dusky pink nipples, while a triangle of dark hair shielded her womanhood. Finian rolled her to her back and parted her legs, gently bending her knees up until he exposed the pink center of her.

With his fingers, he caressed her delicate flesh, leaning in to breathe against her inner thigh. He nudged the soft skin with his mouth, drawing dangerously close to her center. His tongue slid a path across her thigh while he lifted her bottom. Then across the other thigh, he kissed her, until she was gripping the sheets with her fists.

“Alys,” he whispered, and he saw her flinch, almost afraid of him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me there again,” she pleaded.

“Where?” He rose up on his forearms and sucked against her nipples, enjoying the sound of the moan that tore from her throat. Her hands moved into his hair, while her legs opened wider. When he released her breasts, she was shaking, her skin flushed.

“Or did you mean here?” he murmured, lowering his hand to the hooded entrance.

She nearly came apart when he used his fingers to draw out her arousal. He stroked her center, using his thumb to press in a rhythm until her breathing shattered and she arched hard.

“Yes,” she managed, raising up her knees again. “Finian, I need you.”

He sensed her coming so close to the release, he backed off a little, trying to prolong the sensations. He wanted to show her what it meant to be fulfilled, to find release.

And then, he watched as her body shuddered, tightening with ecstasy as she came apart. With his fingers, he stimulated her again, until he knew she was wet and ready for him. When he sheathed himself inside her, she was so tight, his own hands dug into the mattress to keep from spilling his seed that very moment.

Alys saw the tension upon Finian’s face, and when he was fully impaled within her, she struggled not to move. The urge to press her body closer, to feel her naked breasts against his strong chest, was hard to suppress. Instead, she drew her hands to his hips, careful to avoid the healing wounds on his back.

When he started to withdraw, she was so afraid he would stop, she arched her hips to sheathe him again. The expression on his mouth changed, and though he tried to keep his penetrations gentle, she no longer wanted gentle.

“Take me,” she commanded, wrapping her legs around his waist. He plunged within her, and the heady feeling started to transform her until she could no longer bear it. Every motion, every touch, seemed to draw forth the woman she wanted to be. The woman who was no longer afraid to live, hiding in the shadow of others. The woman who would take this pleasure and give everything of herself in return.

“I’ll let no man harm you again,” Finian gritted out as he kept up the pulsing rhythm. She climaxed again, the shimmering release tearing apart her inhibitions. In a sudden motion, he withdrew and pressed her legs to her stomach, lifting her hips and driving inside her secret flesh once more. The new position allowed him to go deeper, and Alys writhed in the sheets, moving in counterpoint to his thrusts until she was shaking so hard, she cried out during his own shuddering release.

Still inside her, Finian lay atop her. Her body was warm, sated and sweaty. He rolled her to her side, his mouth against her damp throat. There were no words for what he’d just given her. Unlike the times she’d shared Robert’s bed, she didn’t feel as if she’d disappointed Finian. He kept stroking her skin, murmuring endearments in Gaelic that she didn’t understand.

And when she fell asleep against him, she felt contented.

In the early hours of the morning, Finian awakened to find Alys snuggled within his arms. Her warm naked backside was nestled against him, and he pulled her closer, his body swelling with arousal. For the first time last night, nightmares hadn’t plagued him. He hadn’t dreamed of his daughter locked in chains. Nor had he relived the pain of the lash.

Instead, he’d been given a gift he didn’t deserve. This beautiful, fragile woman had offered herself to him, wanting only to forget the dark shadow of her marriage. It didn’t seem real, and though he’d vowed his protection, never had he imagined that Alys would let him love her.

He couldn’t stop thinking of the way she’d yielded to him, or the soft gasp when he’d filled her. Watching her succumb to the pleasure of lovemaking, letting her climax over and over, had taken last night beyond his understanding.

But what if she wanted him to take her back to England? What if she wanted nothing more from him?

He withdrew from her, trying to regain control over his body. He didn’t want her anywhere out of his sight. Though she might not know it, by letting him join with her, she’d sealed her fate. He wasn’t going to let this woman go.

And that meant he had to take her away from here before the English soldiers returned. Quietly, he rose from the bed and dressed. He picked up her gown and leaned down to kiss her awake.

The softness of sleep clung to her face, but Alys yielded when his mouth coaxed her to open. The tentative touch of her tongue made him slide his own against hers, deepening the embrace.

Finian pulled back the coverlet, and she clung to him, making him wish he could love her once more before they left. “Alys,” he said against her mouth. “We have to leave.”

He pulled back and it took her a moment to realize where she was. Her face grew worried, as if she’d suddenly regretted the way she’d given herself to him.

He said nothing of it, helping her to don her shift and gown. Alys dressed quickly, finding her shoes and following him to his daughter’s chamber. “Gather your kinsmen,” she said, “and I’ll follow with Iliana and my maid.”

Finian went below stairs and woke his brother, alerting the others. With Brochain at his side, they went to the gate house where his kinsman Alan stood watch.

“Was there any sign of the garrison?” Finian asked.

“No. It’s been silent all night.”

“Good.” Reaching for a torch, Finian ordered, “We’re going to take the women by horseback, keeping to the hills. We’ll have to pass by Harkirk’s soldiers on the way to Moristerry.” Though he didn’t know if it was safe to return to their lands, it was the only home they had.

Behind him, he heard the footsteps of the women. Iliana wore warm clothing that was slightly too big for her, no doubt given to her by Alys.

“Are you ready?” Finian asked.

They nodded. Silently, they passed through the gates, Iliana and Jeanne sharing a horse. Finian swept Alys up on horseback, riding behind her. To Brochain, he ordered, “If any threat occurs, take the women and return to Moristerry. I’ll stand guard with the others.”

Alys stiffened at the mention of an attack, but Finian held her close as he drew the horse into the woods edging the hills.

“I never even looked for the silver,” she said, under her breath. “Do you suppose Sir Geoffrey was right?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll return to Moristerry and if they want it, they can search for it themselves.”

They rode through the valley, toward the English garrison that would soon emerge in front of them. As they drew closer, Finian started shifting their path into the hills, in an effort to avoid a confrontation with the soldiers. They rode for several minutes, and Finian leaned closer to Alys, whispering. “Are you all right after last night?”

She turned her face slightly toward him. “I never knew there could be such pleasure between a man and a woman.” Her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Is it always like that?”

“It was never like that for me. Only with you.”

She looked startled by his answer, as if she didn’t know what to say. Finian covered her hands with his, slowing the pace of their horse as the camp of the English soldiers came into view. Behind him, Brochain kept a close watch over Iliana and Jeanne, while the others remained within a close distance.

Though it was not quite dawn, Finian could see the faint light of coals from the camp fires. He motioned for them to leave the pathway, traveling higher up the hillside, in an effort to stay clear of the soldiers.

But just as they reached the trees, Finian spied a single torch ahead. He tried to pull them back, but the silvery glint of chainmail armor emerged within the forest. The soldiers had been waiting for them, it seemed.

Finian dismounted, unsheathing the sword he’d stolen from the armory a day ago. He handed the reins of his horse to Alys, giving her the means to flee if she needed to.

He glanced backward at his brother, who was already shielding Iliana and moving towards Alys. Brochain would keep his word; he could trust in that.

“Did you bring my silver?” came the voice of Sir Geoffrey.

“No.” Alys tightened her grip on the reins. “And even if there was any silver, it was never yours.”

“Bitch,” the knight growled, charging towards her. “You’ll give it to me or suffer the consequences.”

“Or you will.” Finian lunged forward with his sword, striking out against the knight to keep him from reaching Alys. His weapon bit into the wood of Sir Geoffrey’s shield.

The knight motioned for his men to close in. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, and Finian had only one chance to free Alys. He slapped the horse’s flank and ordered, “Go with Brochain. Now!”

She faltered a moment, and Finian swung hard as four more attackers circled him. He knew there was no hope of escaping them—there were too many men outnumbering him. But he could save his family.

“Alys, you’ve no choice!” he commanded. She looked stricken, but at last obeyed, riding hard with Brochain, back the way they had come.

Finian didn’t care if he died protecting them. As long as she and his daughter were safe, that was all that mattered. More soldiers closed in, and he kept swinging his blade, praying to God that Brochain would keep his daughter and Alys alive.

“We have to go back for him,” Alys pleaded when Brochain wouldn’t stop riding.

“I will. But not until you and Iliana are safe. He made me swear it.” The man kept up a punishing pace, leading them farther away from the garrison. Alys felt the choking fear rising up. Finian didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Not after everything he’d done.

She pulled her horse to a stop. “No. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that they’ve killed him already. I won’t let that happen.”