Fraser 01 - Highland Legacy (8 page)

“Thanking you? Because of your big mouth, I had to declare that Cailin was my wife. Have you any idea what this means?”

“Aye, and it got you the room, and a wife to warm your bed,” Alasdair replied smugly.

“Aye, it got me a wife I dinna want.”

“I thought about claiming her for myself, but dinna think it would sit too well with you or the lass.”

“You’re a sniveling, slimy bastard. I’m a warrior, and you know that I never planned to marry. Especially to a woman who has proved to be trouble since the day we met. I’ve half a mind to kick your arse from here to kingdom come.”

The smile left Alasdair’s face, and he closed the gap between them. “Go ahead and try.”

Connor raised his balled fists, but Bryce stepped between them. “Stop this before you get us all thrown out, or you shame the lass and ruin her reputation. Correct me if I’m wrong, but did you not say we needed to be discreet and not attract attention?” Bryce kept his voice low and nodded in the direction of three men who had wandered outside and were doing their best to eavesdrop.

Connor waited until the men wandered out of earshot, then continued to rant. “That was before my brothers betrayed me and declared me married to a bairn.”

“I can think of a lot worse fates than sleeping in a warm, soft bed, nestled between that bonny lassie’s thighs,” Alasdair goaded.

“
Haud you’re wheest
!” His patience pushed to the limit, and despite the threat of an audience, Connor raised his fist, ready to attack his brother. “Cailin is a lady. She is not a whore.”

“Calm yourself, Connor, and dinna make a scene. Alasdair only seeks to pull your leg. He’s had a bit too much ale, and meant no disrespect.”

“I dinna know why you
fash
yourself. We’ve both seen the way you stare at her. You look at her like you could gobble her up and would kill any man who dared to look at her.” Alasdair elbowed their younger brother in the side. “Tell him, Bryce.”

“He has a point. You do stare at her like a lovesick hound. Face it, Connor, the lass has caught your fancy. Besides, that old woman was not about to give you a room unless she thought you were properly wed. You said it yourself, the lass is exhausted and needs a warm place to sleep. Now she can dry her clothes and you can warm her bed.” Bryce smiled and patted Connor on the back.

“There’ll be no bed warming do you hear me? No bedding. Period.” Connor’s jaw clenched, and he fought the urge to knock both their heads together. “I’ll not be trapped into a marriage I dinna want. I have no use for a wife, and the sooner you get that through your thick skulls, the better. Once we reach the Bruce’s camp, I’ll do what is necessary to have this amended. In the meantime, I will see her safe, and nothing more.”

“Suit yourself, but for now, you best go tend to your wife before anyone gets suspicious.” Bryce turned and headed for the inn. “While you do that, I plan to finish my ale, then find myself a warm, dry spot to sleep in the barn.”

Just as Connor was about to follow his brothers, he caught sight of two English officers sauntering up the street. He brushed past Bryce. “There’s no time to escape. I must get Cailin safely tucked away in our room before the soldiers find her.”

Alasdair slid his hand over the hilt of his sword. “Bryce and I will see to our English friends. Take the lass to your room and stay there.”

Connor nodded. “Be careful.” He entered the inn and rushed to Cailin’s side. “We need to leave now.” There could be no mistaking the concern in his voice.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“English soldiers are in the village proper, and we need to get out of here before they reach the inn.” Without further explanation, he took Cailin’s hand and dragged her toward the stairs.

“If you need anything, lad, just ask,” James called out as they reached the above floor.

“Thank you, we will.” Connor didn’t take the time to look back, but he could still hear James talking to Cora as he escorted Cailin down the hall.

“Och, young love is grand. I remember a time when I was as anxious to get you into my bed. I carried you in my arms, taking those stairs two at a time.”

“You’re an old fool, James.” She paused and Connor imagined her staring after them. “I still say there’s something amiss.”

He guided Cailin to their room and unlocked the door. “Go inside and put the bar in place. Dinna answer unless you are certain it’s me.”

“Where are you going?” Cailin grasped his arm, her nails digging into his flesh.

“I need to see what the English are about. Bryce and Alasdair may need my help. Wait here until I return.”

“I refuse to remain hidden away while you—”

“This is not the time to argue. Either you promise to stay in the room, or I’ll tie you to the bed and you’ll have no choice in the matter.” He grasped her by the shoulders and pushed her into the room with a little more force than intended.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She planted her hands on her hips, standing her ground.

“Aye, I would. But if you dinna keep your voice down, there will be no need to hide. The English will surely find us.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll only go as far as the top of the stairs. If I hide in the shadows, no one will see me.” He grasped the doorknob, pulled the door closed, and waited until he heard the bar slide into place.

Connor made his way down the narrow hallway and crouched at the top of the stairs. From this vantage point, he could see the main floor of the inn. Holding his breath, he waited, and watched.

“We’ll have two tankards of Ale and make it quick, wench.” An English lieutenant threw open the oaken door and bellowed at Emma. Another soldier followed, close on his heels. After scanning the room, the two men sat down at a table near the hearth.

Bryce and Alasdair slipped into the inn behind them, but lingered near the door.

Rather than send Emma to wait on the soldiers, Cora delivered the drinks herself. “Will you be having anything to eat?”

“No. But keep the ale coming. This abominable Scottish weather has chilled me clear to the bones.” The lieutenant threw some coins on the table and picked up his tankard.

“As you wish, m’lord.” Cora scooped up the payment and curtsied politely. “You lads are a far piece from your garrison on this
dreich
night.”

“It’s always damp and dreary in this godforsaken country. My feet have not been dry since we left London. I—”

The soldier continued to rant until his commander abruptly cut him off. “We are searching for a young woman who escaped custody, and we have reason to believe she may be headed this way.”

Cora shrugged. “A young lady, you say? What did the lass do to warrant being held and hunted by the king’s soldiers?”

“She murdered an English officer.” When the lieutenant stood, he towered over Cora. “The wench tempted the poor sot, and when he tried to claim his due, she murdered him.”

“Denied the man his God given right to breed her, did she?” Cora clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Where did this happen?”

“In the village of Dunkeld. The woman’s name is Cailin Macmillan. We mean to find her and see her punished.”

“She dinna come through here. Mayhap, they are traveling south, and not north.” Cora turned, and walked away with a smug grin on her face.

The lieutenant stepped into the middle of the room and banged a knife against his pewter tankard. “I am Lieutenant Winthrop, and this is my assistant, William Jones. You all heard what I told the old woman. There is a reward of twenty pounds in sterling for the woman. Have any of you seen her?”

Connor watched as his brothers shifted in the shadows, Alasdair sliding his hand over the hilt of his sword.

Dinna do anything to gain their attention. They’re only asking questions and flaunting their authority.

Connor held his breath and prayed his brothers would stand fast. The bounty the soldiers offered would mean a fortune to those present, but he hoped their loyalty to Scotland would prompt them to hold their tongues.

The soldiers moved about the room, questioning the patrons. “Have you seen this woman?” Jones paused, and waited for a man sitting at a table by the bar to answer.

“I’ve not seen anyone like that around these parts. With an entire English garrison of at least one hundred men camped less than an hour ride to the east, and an even larger one stationed in Glasgow, a person would have to be daft to come through here if they were trying to avoid capture.” His response appeared to satisfy Jones, and divulged the location of the English encampment.

“What about you, old man?” The lieutenant kicked the chair of the first man’s companion, toppling it over, and sending him crashing to the floor.

Connor fought the urge to go the elderly man’s defense.

“Nay. She’s not in Kirkintillock.” The man rubbed his elbow and climbed to his feet.

After getting nowhere with their questions, the soldiers returned to their table and picked up their tankards of ale. Before taking a drink, the lieutenant issued a warning. “The sooner you Scottish vermin learn your place, the better. When a man is murdered, especially one of the king’s men, it is punishable by death. To conceal the murderer’s whereabouts makes you an accessory to the crime, not to mention it is an act of treason.”

Despite the threats, and promise of a hefty reward, not a soul spoke up. While it appeared to escape the officers attention, Connor saw Bryce nudge Alasdair’s shoulder and whisper something in his ear, before the two men slipped out the door.

Chapter 8

Connor had barely made it through the door when Cailin rushed to his side. “Are they gone?”

“Aye, for now. I dinna think they will return tonight, so best you get undressed and into bed. We’ll get a good night’s rest and leave before first light.”

Her face flushed and she took a step back. “For a maiden to share a room with a man who is not her husband is scandalous, and I’ll not do it.”

Cailin didn’t need to remind him of her innocence. To stay the course, and not go insane with primal need, would be a miracle, and a true test of his resolve. His self-control already pushed to the limits, Connor steeled himself for a night alone with an alluring, desirable woman he craved with every fiber of his being, and had vowed not to touch.

“Like it or not, we are married.” He pushed past her, stomped across the room, and tossed his saddlebag into the corner. The leather satchel hit the floor with a loud thud.

“How dare you tell those people we’re married? I insist you set things to right and find another place to sleep.” She followed on his heels, and grabbed his arm.

He spun around to face her. “I dinna have a choice.”

“No choice! You could have told them I was your sister, your cousin, or—”

“That old woman is no fool. She saw through your disguise and wasn’t about to let us share a room unless we were married.”

“She believed your lie. That we were married in secret because my father dinna approve.”

“Would your father approve if we married?”

Instead of a clever response, Cailin hesitated for a minute, and lowered her head. “Nay. He has his own plans for me.”

“Then I dinna tell a lie. As long as those English bastards are in the village, we need to stay hidden, and together.” Connor stepped away, picked up a log, and tossed it among those already smoldering on the hearth. When he turned around to face her again, he mumbled a curse under his breath.

With downcast eyes, she stood at the foot of the bed. Her body shivered and her teeth chattered.

I’ll not allow myself to feel sorry for her. If I must keep her at arm’s length, I will. If I must be gruff and cruel to save my sanity, so be it.
“Best you stop your haivering and get out of those wet things before you catch your death of cold.”

Cailin glared up at him. “I will not get undressed in front of you.” The look of determination in her eyes and the proud jut of her chin showed the strength of her conviction. “If you were a gentleman, you’d sleep in the barn with your brothers.” She defiantly wrapped the sodden cloak around her shoulders, turned her back to him, and lowered her voice to a barely audible tone. “You’ll not touch me, Connor Fraser. Not if you value your manly parts.”

He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and spun her around. “Those are bold words, and no way for a wife to speak to her husband. Mayhap I should take you over my knee and paddle your arse, teach you to
haud yer wheest.”

“I’ll not hold my tongue, and if you think I would stand by while you paddled my arse, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not your wife, or your property. When I marry in earnest, it will be before a priest, and to the man I love. He’ll ask for my hand, and court me properly. You had no right to trick me into marriage.”

“I had no plans to marry you or anyone else. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I’ll say, and do, what’s necessary to protect you. When asked if I was your husband, you dinna deny it.”

“I thought it was merely a ruse to procure a room, and to hide our identity. I had no idea we’d truly be married.”

“Marriage by declaration is legal and binding according to Scottish law. If there were any other another option at the time, I’d have taken it. Once Alasdair told them we were married, I had no choice but to go along with his claim. The last thing I need or want is to be saddled with a wife.”

“Saddled with a wife? Why, I’ll have you know that many a handsome lad asked permission to court me. I refuse to be married to a man who does not love me.”

“I’m a warrior, and have no use for a wife. Once we reach the Bruce’s camp, I’ll see the matter rectified. Moreover, your silly notion of love is a myth that only fools believe, and I refuse to fall into your trap. If truth be known, you’ve been trouble and a pain in my backside since the moment we met. It was a cruel trick of fate’s that I happened upon you on the riverbank, and the sooner I’m rid of you, the better.”

Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she made no attempt to reply. He hated to treat her in such a cruel, heartless manner, but to admit his true feelings would benefit no one. It served no purpose to let her know that he thought her the most amazing, beguiling woman he had ever met, and that he wanted her more than his next breath. Once they’d rejoin the Scottish forces at Kildrummy Castle and he’d seen her safely sequestered, he would continue to fight for the cause, mayhap never see her again. No, he’d not tell her how he felt, and leave her pining for something that could never be. He vowed to remain strong, to squelch the desire to take her in his arms and comfort her. To stay the unbridled passion that heated his blood and ripped through his body like a wildfire out of control. To crush the urgent need to sheath his aching shaft deep within her velvet warmth and claim his bride.

“If I am so much trouble, mayhap you should leave me here. Continue to Kildrummy on your own and forget we ever met. Better yet, send me back to Dunkeld. Let my father deal with this matter as he deems fit. I’ll not beg for your help.” She sat on the edge of the bed, lowered her head, and clutched the sodden cloak around her shoulders.

Guilt tugged at his heartstrings. She sat before him, frightened, exhausted, chilled to the bone, and his insensitive attitude made things worse. For the first time since they’d met, the fire was gone from her eyes. He wanted to hold her, and tell her everything would be all right, but he knew if he did, it would not stop there.

“You cannot go home. The minute you set foot on Macmillan land, the English will arrest you.” Against his better judgment, he sat on the bed beside her, slid his hand over hers, and gave it a comforting squeeze. It made him shudder to think what might happen if they held her prisoner. “What’s done is done, and we will have to live with it for now.” His voice softened. “Best you get out of these wet things and hasten yourself into bed. I’ll stoke the fire, and then join you.”

Cailin sprang to her feet. “I will not share a bed with you!” She began to pace the room like a cornered animal. “I’m a maiden, and when I bed a man, it must be the husband of my heart. Not a man who takes me to wife out of necessity.”

His jaw clenched, a ball of anger rising from the pit of his stomach. “Enough. I feel like I’m banging my head against a stone wall.” With his fists balled, he stood and proceeded to an old oak shelf in the corner of the room, pulled down a tattered fur pelt, and laid it on the floor before the hearth. “I’ll sleep here. Now, get undressed, climb into bed, and try to get some sleep.”

“How can you think about sleep when English soldiers could return at any time? Mayhap we should leave now and travel under the cover of darkness.”

“Bryce and Alasdair will keep an eye on the English and handle things if need be. I’d trust no one else to guard my back.”

“Handle it how? Enough blood has been shed on my account. If anything happened to one of your brothers because of me, I would never forgive myself.”

“My brothers will do what is necessary to keep you safe. Best you get undressed and into bed. On the morrow, we have a long journey ahead of us.”

“I must tend to my needs. Please, I bid you give me a moment of privacy.”

The flush of embarrassment stained her cheeks, and the pleading look in her eyes melted his heart.
How can a woman be so damned irritating, and yet adorable and desirable at the same time?
He pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose and shook his head. His patience and resolve spent, he counted to ten beneath his breath before he answered. “There’ll be a chamber pot under the bed. I’ll turn my back while you undress and tend to your needs.”

“Mayhap you could you wait in the hall? It will only take a few minutes.”

“Nay. I cannot take the risk of being seen, and I dinna intend to leave you alone. Turning my back is the best I can do.” He faced the opposite side of the room and blew out a sigh of frustration. “See to your needs, and then put your wet clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed. Once you’re under the pelts, I’ll hang your things by the fire to dry.”

Albeit lumpy, a warm bed certainly beat a pallet on the cold hard ground. Yet sleep evaded Cailin. With Connor but a few feet away, how could she close her eyes? Her stomach tumbled, her breath caught, and her heart beat wildly at the thought of him. True, he was arrogant, and stubborn. At times, his words, and actions were cruel and insensitive, but she could not forget the tenderness of their first kiss, his bravery when he rescued her on the riverbank, and his dedication to the people and causes he held dear. She could easily fall in love with this man.

On the other hand, Connor didn’t believe in love and had no use for a wife. He’d made it perfectly clear that he’d declared them wed out of necessity, not love. Their marriage a charade, one he planned to have annulled when they reached the Bruce’s camp. To consummate such a union would be a sin. To accept him as her husband, a mistake that could only lead to heartbreak. So why did she want him so badly? Why did she ache to be held in his strong arms while he kissed her senseless? Why was she ready to toss aside all that was proper for a night of passion with a man she’d just met?

She knew why. Her mind wandered back to the first, fateful day they met. The feel of his lips upon hers—sensual, full, kissable lips that teased, caressed, and offered so much promise. She imagined what it would be like to lay beneath him, his deft hands roaming her body and taking intimate liberties. When an unfamiliar throbbing and a rush of wetness between her thighs suddenly became too much to bear, she brought her fingers to her mouth and stifled the urge to moan aloud.

Tortured by wanton, sinful desires, she lay naked beneath the covers. Her pulse quickened, and her heart pounded wildly against her ribs. Her breasts grew heavy, and the friction of the pelts caused her nipples to tighten and tingle each time she moved. She’d never ached like this before. Nor had she longed for a man to touch her in forbidden places the way she did now.

Her hands fisted in the covers, and she fought the overpowering urge to go to him.
Nay
...
I’ll not surrender to this madness. When I choose to lay with a man, he will be a man I love, and one who loves me as much or more.
With that oath, she punched the pillow and rolled to her side—determined to get some sleep.

An hour later, she still tossed and turned. If anything, her desire to lay with Connor grew stronger by the minute. When he moaned in his sleep, his injured shoulder came to mind. She sat up in bed, the covers pooling around her waist. While he’d done his best to stoke the fire, it gave off very little warmth. Cold air enveloped her body, and a shiver ran down her spine.

He moaned again, and guilt replaced desire. How could she be so selfish? The man had risked his life to rescue her from the English, and how did she repay his valor?
By stabbing him, and then by forcing him to sleep on the floor, without so much a horse blanket for warmth
.

The least she could do was to share some of the covers. When her bare feet touched the cold plank floor, she quickly wrapped a woolen plaid around her trembling body. She grabbed a pelt from the pile on her bed and crept over to where Connor slept. The tallow candle on the table by the hearth had gone out, but the fire provided enough light for her to see his magnificent form.

Truly one of God’s finest masterpieces, Connor’s rugged, handsome features brought a smile to her lips. With a wisp of dark hair falling over his eyes and his peaceful expression, he resembled a lad lost in his dream—the only boyish quality he possessed. The tantalizing sight of his hard, sculpted body, and sun-bronzed skin shimmering in the firelight caused her stomach to knot with excitement. His broad chest, dusted with black curls, slowly rose and fell in shallow even breaths. Without conscious thought, her fingers curled in the fur she held in her hand.
What would it be like to bury my hand in those curls? Would they feel coarse against my naked breasts when he crushed me in his strong arms?
Her gaze drifted downward. Well-defined calf muscles and powerful thighs appeared strong enough to cradle a woman as he pleasured her for hours.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen a man with a finely honed physique. She’d seen Connor without a tunic when she’d mended his wound. She’d watched the men of her clan training in lists—their lean toned bodies glistening with sweat as they pushed themselves to their physical limits. However, this was her first glimpse of a man’s most private parts.

At the sight of his manhood, her eyes widened with amazement, and her mouth went dry. She had no control over the rush of heat coursing through her veins, and her body reacted on its own accord. While she was no expert, it was plain to see the Almighty had blessed Connor with a bountiful endowment. She swallowed hard. How could a woman possibly accommodate a man so large?

The sudden urge to taste, touch, and explore every inch of his body shocked her to the core. Given her prim and proper upbringing, she should never have taken such liberties. Instead of feasting her eyes, she should have covered them or, at the least, covered him. Regardless of his marriage declaration, this man was a stranger, and she had no business staring at him in this manner—especially when he was unaware of her scrutiny.
The first thing she’d do when they reached Kildrummy Castle would be to visit the chapel and beg the Almighty’s forgiveness.

Her curiosity and desire in check, she carefully lowered the pelt over his sleeping form—startled when his hand clamped around her wrist. Before she could react, he dropped her to the floor and pinned her beneath his body, the blade of his dirk pressed to her throat.

“Are you daft? What are you doing prowling around the room in the dark? I could have slit your throat.”

She twisted her wrist in an attempt to break free, but his grip held firm. “You’re hurting me. Please let me go.”

He released her arm, slipped the dirk back into its sheath, and rolled away. “Never sneak up on a man when he’s sleeping,” he admonished on a ragged breath.

“I dinna mean to wake you.”

“A warrior sleeps with one eye open, and is always prepared to defend himself should the need arise. You’re lucky to still be alive. Only a fool would creep up on a man in the middle of the night, dressed as you are.”

Rage blazed in his eyes as they bore into hers. The devil himself couldn’t look more menacing. She choked back fear and struggled to catch her breath. “I woke up, and the room was so cold. I thought you might have need of a pelt.” She dropped the fur, held her plaid in place and scrambled to her feet, but there was nowhere to go.

He rose quickly and covered the space between them. “You play a dangerous game.”

“I meant only to cover you, and nothing more.” She took a step backward, but could go no further. With her spine pressed against the wall, she lowered her gaze, and gasped. He stood before her, completely naked, his manhood jutting out proudly from between his thighs. The air sizzled. Her heart rose in her throat, and the sound of her pulse echoed in her ears. She felt faint.

Connor snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “You’re forever flirting with danger, lass. To see you standing there in only a plaid is more than a mortal man can abide. He dropped his head and kissed her hard. “Mine,” he groaned against her mouth.

His teeth nipped and tugged at her lower lip. Her pulse raced and her chest constricted. Could bones truly melt, completely dissolve when a person was kissed with such intensity? She was certain of it. When she finally gasped, desperate for a much-needed gulp of air, his tongue plunged in, tangling with hers.

She could feel his passion, could taste his desire. His strong hands roamed her body, leaving behind a molten trail of desire. He cupped her breasts, testing the weight of each in his palms. His thumbs stroked her nipples and all thought and reason spiraled out of control. Trapped in a boneless, heady world of erotic fantasy, she gave in to the glorious sensations bombarding every nerve, every fiber of her being. He swallowed her moans of pleasure. His tongue delved deeper, ravaging without mercy. A kiss so powerful it stormed her senses and melted her reserve. Pliant in his arms, she offered no resistance.

The raw taste of male caused her knees to buckle. She caught his woodsy scent, a hint of spice, leather, and the unmistakable male musk of his arousal. Finding it hard to remain standing, she swayed toward him for support, bracing her hands on his broad chest. When his hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and pull her into the hollow of his thighs, she thought she might perish in his arms. His heart hammered under her hands, and as he ground his hips against the cradle of her thighs, his rock hard shaft pressed against her aching core.