Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) (16 page)

His fingers were rough when they
dug into her hair and brought her mouth roughly against his. His kiss was raw,
his tongue delving deeply. When he pulled back, Catherine suddenly found
herself being lifted into the air and carried swiftly to the bed.

“So much for saving the bed for
last.”

“Aye, and ‘tis your fault
completely.” His voice was a mere growl as he threw back the covering and
dropped her none too gently onto the bed. He quickly kicked off his boots.

“I asked you to teach me...but you
refused.” She moved to the middle of the great bed. “I had to learn for
mysel...”

The shirt was not coming off
quickly enough, and Catherine’s words caught in her throat when he ripped it
open in the front. The sight of his golden skin and the sinewy musculature of
his chest caused her heart to pound more feverishly than before.

“I still...I think...John...the
size...”

His kilt dropped to the floor.
Catherine’s eyes moved downward, fixing on his huge arousal before flitting
again to his face.

“It can’t possibly...!”

“Just leave it to me, lass.”

All she could do was gasp as Athol
leaned over, took hold of her ankles and dragged her back to the edge of the
bed. She had no time even to guess at his next move before he bent over her and
clasped her nipple between his lips.

Any thought of resistance quickly
gave way to pleasure, but it was a moment or two before Catherine could take in
her next breath. And then, when he moved down her body, caressing her belly
with his lips and tongue, moving even lower until he settled at the aching
juncture of her thighs, she felt the molten fluids erupt in her body in a fiery
sensation of pulsing energy. Catherine cried out in the ecstasy of release as
her whole body came undone.

Too blind with waves of bliss
sweeping her along on passion’s currents, Catherine was mindless of her earlier
concerns. She wanted him inside of her, and she reached out wildly, taking hold
of his hair and raising him up. She felt him sink his shaft into her, and she raised
her hips with a cry of wonder as he embedded himself fully within her.

And then, as he began his long,
slow thrusts, Catherine was again lost to the world as he carried her to yet
another shattering level of rapturous bliss.  But this time, they came together
in a joyous, dizzying union of body and spirit. 

Moments later, John’s streaming
body still draped across hers, Catherine sent a quiet blessing heavenward.  She
had so much to be thankful for. Most of all, she wanted to thank the Lord for
giving her the strength to tame this man. Running a gentle hand over his strong
shoulders, she placed a kiss on his chest.

John Stewart, the earl of Athol,
was certainly no longer the dangerous lion she’d once feared.

As the first rays of the morning
sun stretched across the chamber, John Stewart sleepily reached for his wife. But where the soft, inviting curves of her perfect body had lain--enticing him, welcoming him
over and over during the night--now only the cool emptiness of the bedclothes awaited
his touch. Abruptly lifting his head and staring across at her side of the
empty bed, John smiled, cursing her out loud for her stubbornness in leaving
him like this.

Swinging his long legs over the
side of the bed, the earl sat brooding for a moment. Here she was, placed in
the most decrepit of all rooms in the oldest quarter of the keep, and she
readily gives up the comforts of his chamber to return to that hole. How many
women could he think of that would be so steadfast in refusing such luxury?
None, he thought decisively. Of course, it figures he would have to marry the
one and only one.

Nay, he thought, quickly correcting
himself.  There was another. Joanna MacInnes had spent months roaming like a
ghost in the caverns beneath Ironcross Castle until Gavin Kerr came north to
take ownership of that keep. Aye! There was one other woman unaffected by
life’s creature comforts.

Pushing himself to his feet and
moving into the warmth of the sun, John couldn’t help but smile at the hand of
fate. He might have lost the hand of Joanna MacInnes, but here he had blindly
walked into a marriage with a woman with such similar principles.  

And he had a lot to be thankful
for, considering all that had been said and done. Catherine Percy was turning
out to be a jewel of a wife. Even aside from her vast learning, which was--in
his opinion--an unexpected treasure in a woman, she had a lot of spirit and a
fiery passion beneath her prim and proper appearance. She was indeed turning
out to be a perfect wife.

And he had her just where he wanted
her.

Feeling the stirring in his loins
at a mere thought of what they’d shared, Athol could not recollect any night of
carnal pleasures in the past that could match up to the one he’d just spent
with Catherine.

There was something more, though.
Something he’d have to be very careful of. She’d never spoken the words, but
just having her naked limbs entwined with his own--her midnight blue eyes
gazing into his--John knew. He’d seen the look of devotion and trust in her
face. She belonged to him in body and soul.

Hell, he thought, shrugging off his
misgivings. She’d chosen to fall in love. By St. Andrew, he’d even warned her!
She could never say he didn’t.

But winning over his wife had been
an easy chore. All he’d had to do was peel away one thin layer of resistance.
Who could have known what cooperative riches he’d find beneath?

Aye, taming Catherine Percy had
indeed been a very easy task.

******

Once again the angry hawk dived
past the men at the top, this time striking hard at the shoulder of the man
clinging to the face of the cliff below them. The sound of his curses rang out.

“Have you got it?” The Deputy
Lieutenant’s roar reverberated off the rocks. “Was it there, man?”

“Aye, m’lord,” came the gruff
reply.

“Bring him up.”

As the soldiers hauled their pale
and bloodied mate up over the edge, Sir Arthur Courtenay stepped toward the
man. It took only a glimpse of the rolled parchment to tell him that, once
again, there was no treasure to be had. Not here, anyway.

“Snakes! Black cats! Jagged cliffs.
We should have burned those three as witches when we had a chance. I
hate
these Percy women! Where did you find it this time?” He snatched the parchment
from the soldier’s hand. “Was there a dragon protecting the vault?”

“Might as well have been, m’lord.”
He showed his bloody forearm and shoulder to his commander. “The cursed thing
was hidden under the hawk’s nest. Why, if I hadn’t been able to get my hands
up, that filthy devil would have torn my face off, sure as we’re standing!”

The cloaked man stepped forward and
took the parchment from the Deputy Lieutenant’s hand.

“One should never molest the mother
when she has her babies in the nest.”

“Aye,” the soldier sneered. “But I made damn sure to toss the little buggers down the cliff after her first dive at me.”

The cloaked man turned away,
unrolling the parchment with a look at the Deputy Lieutenant. “To be sure, Sir
Arthur, you have only the finest of men to serve you!”

“But they
do
serve me, and I
suggest you keep your prating tongue still.” The two men stared angrily at one
another for a long moment before Sir Arthur continued, breaking the silence.
“So what is it this time, as if I didn’t know. It wouldn’t be another map from
the three bitches, now, would it?”

The cloaked man gazed stonily at
the map for a long moment. Then, without warning, the man tossed the parchment
into Sir Arthur’s hands. Fury blazed in the eyes of the king’s Deputy
Lieutenant.

“Aye. ‘Tis exactly that. Another map for us...courtesy of the Mistresses Percy.”

“This is the end!” Sir Arthur
exploded hurling the map to the ground. I’ll not play the fool for these
traitorous sluts anymore. ‘Tis time we did something more than waste our
valuable days traipsing all over the damned countryside. I told you a fortnight
ago nothing would come of this! I’m telling you that they’ve taken the treasure
with them! The wenches are in Scotland laughing at us this moment. They’ve
taken it and left us with noth...”

“I know for a fact that they did
not.”

The Deputy Lieutenant eyed the
other man suspiciously. “You know?”

“The treasure is here...somewhere.”
The cloaked man picked up the map from the dirt. “And there is a map...”

“Then one of them must have it! I
wager ‘tis the eldest! Bloody hell, I should have gone after her--as I wanted
to from the first--rather than waste my time following this futile trail.”

“As I’ve told you before, ‘tis not
just one of them that has the answer...‘tis the three together. That’s why we
must follow the maps. They left these here for a reason, and I’m telling you we
cannot ignore them. The mother has corresponded with them, and these maps could
very well lead to the prize we seek.”

The Deputy Lieutenant began pacing
back and forth along the ledge. Finally, he stopped and faced the man. “Nay!
I’ll not be put off again. We’ll go after the eldest first. Didn’t you tell me
that she went to Elgin? We have some of the maps...perhaps she has the final
key. And if she cannot lead us to it on her own, I’ll stretch her on the rack
until she tells us where the other two sisters are.”

The cloaked man’s brow deepened
into a frown. “‘Tis not so easy. My men have sent me word that she has been
wedded to the earl of Athol--the cousin to the Scottish king...”

“Your men?!” Sir Arthur exploded.
“You have people close to her, and yet you say nothing to me? Are you telling
me that all along you have been in a position to bring her back, and you have
not acted?”

The cloaked man raised himself to
his full height. “If I were you, I should not be too hasty in passing judgment
over what I have done. If it weren’t for me, you would still know nothing at
all of the connection between the Percys and the Treasure of...”

“Enough!” the Deputy Lieutenant
interrupted, eyeing the gawking soldiers standing nearby. “You’ve told me this
until I’m sick to death of it!”

Moving closer, Sir Andrew grasped the man’s cloak in his fist and drew him down until their faces were eye to eye.

“When are you bringing her back?”
he rasped, the threat evident in his voice.

“When the time is right.” The
cloaked man whispered, his gaze never wavering as he extricated himself from
the king’s servant.

“Bah!” the Deputy Lieutenant turned
on his heel and strode again to the cliff’s edge.

“But in the meantime, Sir Arthur,
we have another map that may lead us closer to our goal. So if you’re finished
chastising me for the good that I’ve done in keeping at least one of Nichola
Percy’s daughters within our reach, then I believe we should continue our
endeavors.”

“Aye, for now,” Courtenay replied,
keeping his back turned.

The commander’s eye was caught by
the falcon circling in the sun above them, and his voice dropped to a murmur.
“Though I wonder, Nichola Percy, how you would respond if I were to drag your
hatchlings from the nest.”

******

The late summer sun beat down
relentlessly on the two riders and their balky, old mules.

Catherine glanced over her shoulder
at the flushed face of the exhausted monk. Brother Bartholomew was wiping the
sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his robe, and she slowed down to let him
catch up to her.

The monk looked up and met her
gaze. “I still can’t understand, mistress, why we couldn’t take the trail
through the Glen of Rothes as the young stable hand directed us. The boy
insisted that going that way would be the safest and the easiest route to Elgin.”

“This was the same lad that gave us
these fine mounts, too, Brother.” Catherine smiled, patting her ancient mule.
She let her eyes wander over the craggy hills and thick green forests of pine
and of oak, and then downward into the glen with its smattering of open meadows
beneath them.  “But you know my fondness for the hills, Bartholomew. Do you
know, since my arrival here, a day hasn’t passed without my serving woman Jean
talking of how ‘bonny’ Ben Aigan looks from these Mannoch Hills--near the place
where she was raised. That’s it...there across the glen. ‘Tis breathtaking,
don’t you think so?”

The monk glanced at the peak
non-committally and gave a low grunt as he pushed his mule past her along the path through the hills. Satisfied for the moment, Catherine turned her own attention to the
rocky trail.

Actually, the truth of the matter
behind taking this road was quite different. That stable lad, Roy Sykes, had
simply been too agreeable in believing that her husband had allowed the two of
them to journey to Elgin without an escort. Indeed, considering that the
red-haired young man had given them two of the frailest old mules in the
stables, Catherine was convinced that the young man had probably beaten a track
to her husband’s chamber door the moment she and the monk had ridden out
through Balvenie’s arched gate. 

Catherine scanned the open areas of
the glen as far as her eyes could see. At least, she thought, if she wanted to
wield her own authority, it would be better to avoid having Athol stop her
before she reached Elgin. By riding into the hills and following the glen, they
had a chance, anyway, of finishing the journey without being overtaken. The
more arduous route would take them longer, but from what she gathered from
Jean, they could easily make it by sunset.

And Jean’s information about these
hills had proved accurate thus far. Based on what she’d learned from the
serving woman, Catherine was completely confident that they’d find their way to
the ancient walled city and its revered cathedral. She’d always had a good
sense of direction. And with these hills as unfrequented as they appeared to
be, Catherine believed they may have found the safest route for their passage,
as well.