Her One Desire (12 page)

John and Smitt, outfitted the same as Lord Maxwell, followed atop two black steeds on blankets decorated with gold cart wheels. They guarded her like noble knights of the throne, and Celeste played the role of her lady’s maid. They were a small cavalcade traveling in disguise to Middleham Castle.

A flock of blackbirds passed in the east in a ribbon that swooped over the valley. A raven broke free of the medley and followed their progress for hours beneath a sun far hotter than April was accustomed. No breeze passed through the air, and the weight of her gown was just another suffocating burden for her to bear.

Determined to prove her vitality, Lizzy refused to show signs of fatigue this day. They traveled little on the open road, staying mainly to the riverbanks and timberland. Every village they approached gave Lord Maxwell the opportunity to inquire about her wellbeing. He watched her with a predator’s eye, circling her like the alpha of their pack. Late afternoon, he cantered up beside her. “Do ye wish to stop, Lizbeth?”

“Do not stop on my account, m’lord. I’m quite right,” she lied. Not that it mattered. If he decided to rein in, she wouldn’t be able to get off the horse. The aches in her thighs and lower back had turned to numbness hours before. This was her punishment for putting the tincture on Father’s whip.

“Are ye certain? Even Smitt is starting to fade. We can press on to another village, but I dinnae think Celeste can last that long.”

“Tell me you do not suggest we rein in for the night. Outside?” She searched overhead for a glimpse of an early moon. The silver arc hanging low would provide little light.

“Have you tents?”

He shot her the look he used when her remarks were less than intelligent. “Nay, Your Majesty. We have no tents.” He knew her fears, yet he mocked her. She raised her chin a notch, strengthening her resolve. “Have you a particular place in mind?”

“There is a loch at the bottom of the next foothill.” He leaned forward, bending awkwardly to see her face. “As you wish, m’lord.” She trotted forward, giving him no time to see the sting of tears his mockery produced. A valley hidden by woodland came into view. A small brook bled into a dark lake surrounded by the most beautiful array of flowers to grace her eyes. Thousands of floral species: roses, lilies, wood violets, and some she didn’t recognize at this distance. Excitement gave her stamina. The click of her tongue and a pat on her horse’s backside set the stallion racing down the side of the knoll. She could pick one of each, mayhap more, and take them to the abbey. She inhaled their powerful scent and decided to mix a unique fragrance for the prioress. The stallion came to a sudden halt at the water’s edge, pulling Lizzy from her frivolous thoughts and sending her heart into her throat. Its front hooves rose off the ground and then splashed in unison. She eased him backward, not daring to look at the dark water. His tail thrashed side to side in agitation, slapping her like little whips. More than anxious to get off the beast, Lizzy rose up in the stirrups, but her muscles quivered and pain raced up her spine. She plopped back atop the horse’s back with a thud and wiggled her toes inside her boots, then rotated her ankles. She flexed the muscles in her aching thighs and rocked side to side to get the blood flowing in her hips. Obviously unconcerned about the situation, the horse dipped low to drink and threw her slightly off balance. While managing to slip one boot from the stirrup, the rumble of hooves hummed behind her. “God’s hooks, woman! Are ye touched in the head? Ye could have ran your mount straight into the damned loch. These animals are trained to follow instructions. They are warhorses. Your gown would have pulled you under. Foolish, insufferable woman. What were ye thinking? Lizbeth, answer me! Why are ye not speaking?”

Though startled by the intensity of his tone, his concern touched her. “Because you have yet to stop yelling long enough for me to speak. Pray forgive me for stealing your years. I wanted to pick a few flowers before dark settled in.” She sounded like a pathetic little girl.

He slapped his hand over his eyes and rubbed his temples. “If ye were in such a haste, why are ye still astride your mount?”

“I’m taking in the view. ‘Tis lovely,” she lied.

He snorted. “Ye cannae get off your horse, can ye?” She shook her head, embarrassed by her frailty. Holding the reins, she focused on the moss bordering the lake. A frog winked at her with both eyes, then disappeared into the blackness.

Lord Maxwell snapped his neck, then dismounted with a grunt and flipped the leather straps over the ears of his horse. The beast immediately bent to drink. A slight limp troubled Lord Maxwell’s right leg as he approached her and eased her stallion’s hooves from the edge of the water. Encircling her waist with his hands, he pulled her from the horse and set her on the ground.

She grabbed hold of his forearms and stared at his chest.

“Please do not let go yet.”

“Ye gave me a fright.” His pale shirt, loosely laced, rose and fell with his heavy breathing.

“Twas not my intention.”

He lessened his hold. “Think ye can walk?”

She sagged. “I s’pose I will eventually.”

In one swift motion, he plucked her off the ground, one arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees. The movement caused a flutter in her stomach.

“Where are the others?”

He turned back toward the lake and squinted. “Looks like they are getting Celeste off her horse.”

Lizzy studied the scene, feeling only slightly frail now.

“Why are they way over there?”

“The water is shallow on the other side.” He set her down on a bed of silky grasses beneath the canopy of a white willow. “I will get your legs working; then ye can pick your flowers, aye?”

“Thank you.” She laid back, not caring that her knees weren’t touching, and thinking they probably never would again. Nor did she protest when he removed her boots and stockings. He worked the same magic as he had the night before, rolling her muscles until the aches thawed and the tingles ceased; then she let him continue simply for enjoyment. She draped her arm over her eyes and hoped he couldn’t see how much he stirred her, how much her heart did a little dance when he looked at her, and how her skin pebbled when she thought of him.

‘Twas a shame she would never know a man’s touch. There was so much inside her she wanted to share. Before she could wallow in self-pity, a little voice inside her suggested she let Lord Maxwell touch her. She smiled, knowing that voice belonged to Edlynn.

“Why are ye smiling?” He sprawled out beside her and propped up on one arm.

“Edlynn is talking to me.” She stared up at the weeping branches and inhaled the beauty of this place, curiously aware of the heat of his body beside her.

“And what is Edlynn saying to ye?” He plucked a foxtail and drew it across her collarbone.

She swished the tickle weed away, eager to play his game. “She is a lewd old woman. Your ears would turn to ash if you heard the things Edlynn says to me.”

“Now ye have my interests. What did she say?” The backs of his fingers hovered beside her face.

She wanted him to touch her. She near ached for it. Did she dare share her thoughts, her desires? Would he reject her? “Edlynn told me to laugh more. Play more.” “Play?

Mayhap your auld friend has a suggestion?” Lizzy pulled her brows together, acting like there was someone in her head telling her secrets. She purposely widened her eyes and made an O shape with her mouth, overdramatizing the scene in her head. “Oh, Edlynn. You are a very wicked woman. You should not say such things.” He laughed at her theatrics. A booming belly laugh accompanied his comely smile and emphasized his dimples. “Ye are wowf.”

Lizzy crossed her eyes and made a funny face at him, enjoying his company more than his seduction. “I am. And you would be half mad, too, if there was an old woman in your head telling you to—“ “Telling ye to what, Lizbeth?” He leaned closer, and his fingers finally touched her cheek.

The tingle that teased her when he was near shot up her spine. She reached up to take his hand. He met her halfway and pinned it above her shoulder, bringing his weight along with him. Positioned over her, he propped his knee between her thighs. She gasped and curled her fingers in his, waiting, wanting, desiring anything he might give her.

He bent to her ear. “Does Edlynn tell ye to laugh, and to feel, and to want? Or is the voice in your head your own? The same voice that yelled out my name in your dream.” He brushed his lips over hers. “The same voice that wants to ask me to kiss ye, but is afraid, as she is afraid of everything.” Lizzy took offense. Her eyes snapped open and met his. “I am not afraid of you.”

“Care to wager, angel? If you’re not afraid, tell me what the voice inside your head wants me to do.” He was goading her. She didn’t care. She would win either way. “I want you to kiss me, and touch me, and tell me I’m desirable.”

He descended on her mouth in one bold action. His tongue swept over hers and demanded she play with him. She did.

She mimicked his actions, chasing his tongue, twirling in an erotic dance inside her mouth. When he sucked her top lip, she latched onto his bottom, nipping, biting, tasting. She was afraid to move, to breathe, terrified he would draw back and leave her wanting. Trapped within her was a caged desire demanding to be unleashed. Demanding more. Her hand curled around his neck. Her fingertips pulled him closer. Then as fiercely as he had descended, he pulled away.

“Ach!” He jumped off her like a man escaping a fire, and being on fire was exactly how she felt.

A hot, carnal inferno.

“I think it best if we keep Edlynn out of your head. She does not play fair.”

Play fair?
It may have started as a game, one she admitted to instigating, but certainly

‘twas not how it ended. “How can you jest about what just happened?”

“I kissed ye. This is all. And ye kissed me back.” He sat up, wiping a fine mist of sweat from his thick neck, then scowled at her. “Dinnae look at me as if I stole your virtue. Tis hardly the matter at all.”

Lizzy closed her mouth, wondering how long she’d sat there with it gaping open, and crawled to her feet. She ignored the pain shooting up her back, determined to distance herself from his rejection. Humiliation was no stranger to her, but never had it felt more like a poison than it did right now. She stuffed her stockings in her boots, then picked them up and stomped through the grasses toward her mount. “I thought ye were going to pick flowers!” he yelled from behind her.

“I changed my mind,” she spit back.

“Would that be your mind or Edlynn’s?”

“Arrogant, toad-sucking Scot,” she grumbled one of Edlynn’s favored insults, not really caring if he heard her. The woman was no angel.

If her kiss didn’t prove it, the fire of Hell and damnation burning in her eyes did. Rage was one of many emotions Broc suspected Lizbeth kept hidden. Desire slipped past her guarded walls, and he’d been fool enough to mock her for setting it free. He scratched the travel dust on his forearms and watched her thrash through the kneehigh grasses toward her mount. She lifted the reins and led the stallion by the nose alongside the loch’s edge, not noticing that his horse followed her lead. Her movements were sharp, angry, her hand waving this way and that, slicing the air as she spoke to the horse and shook her head. She ranted continually until he could no longer make out her features.

Poor beast. Broc intended to reward the horse for taking his punishment. He rubbed the back of his neck, still aware of the soft press of her fingers. A tickle blew across his skin. He was an ass with no skill for wooing like Smitt. Charm hadn’t been part of Brother Mel’s lessons, but discipline had. Two years he’d spent learning how to overcome his desires, how to suppress the want for Da’s title and Aiden’s betrothed. He should be rejoicing, drinking Uncle Ogilvy’s whisky, and telling lies with his brethren. Honoring Aiden’s life by celebrating a new beginning. ‘Twas the way of his clan. Too many died, and far too often for the kinsfolk to mourn day and night. He hoped Da would trust him to reign in Aiden’s stead. To lead and preserve the clan—to protect. But protecting Lizbeth had become a duty to him as well. Her goals were foolish, but he suspected they were all she had. She considered herself responsible for her father’s sins and the sins of her country. On the morrow he would deliver her into sanctuary, where she would practice celibacy, learn to be submissive, and hide her tongue behind her teeth. The fire inside her would die, along with her passion, her desire. A desire he touched, and then rejected like a fool. Broc scratched his neck. The woman had him fidgeting, itching, tingling beneath his skin. He scratched his palms, his forearms. Then he held his hands out in front of him. Splotches. Red splotches dotted his arms and the backs of his hands. He checked the ground and recognized the light green plants.

Damned itching weed!

He jumped to his feet and stripped to his skin, leaving a trail of garments and weapons toward the loch. He gave no thought to the temperature before he dove headlong into cool, soothing water.

“Ye look a mite bit piqued, lass.”

Lizzy pulled her gaze away from her bare toes and greeted John with a frown he didn’t deserve. “This is how I look, sir. But I thank you for noticing.”

“My wife has the same look.” He graciously took the reins of Lizzy’s horse and stroked its neck.

“I fear your wife is a little more than a wee bit piqued.” She played with their burr, gaining a chuckle from John. She knew better than most not to hold one man’s sins against another. The anger and hurt clutching her chest was no fault of John’s.

“Mayhap ye could talk to her. Soften her up a wee bit, aye?” His eye’s pleaded “save me.”

Lizzy could save a man from bleeding to death, but she had no experience in softening wives, especially wives as angry as Celeste. Nonetheless, Lizzy welcomed the challenge and the distraction. Anything to keep her from thinking
of him.
“A wee bit might be all I can promise. Where is she?” John bobbed his head toward an opening in the woodland while he removed Beatrice’s cage from the horse and handed it to Lizzy. “I would be indebted to ye.”