Highland Destiny (7 page)

Balfour paused in front of a doorway across the hall from Nigel’s bedchamber and opened the door, watching her closely. Maldie was in a strange mood, one moment smiling and talking, the next lost in thoughts that, judging by her dark expressions, were not particularly pleasant ones. Balfour was not certain how she would respond to the news that she had been removed from Nigel’s room.

Nigel no longer needed Maldie’s constant care, but Balfour knew that was not the reason he had given Maldie her own chambers. Nigel’s blatant interest in Maldie had been what had driven him. He just hoped she would not guess that, for it could easily insult her and his lack of confidence embarrassed him.

“This isnae my room,” Maldie said, trying and failing to break Balfour’s firm grip on her arm.

“Aye. Now it is.” He tugged her into the room, shut the door, and leaned against it.

“Nigel shouldnae be left alone. He may do something foolish.”

“He willnae be left alone, but he doesnae need ye at his side day and night any longer.”

“Then, mayhap, ’tis time for me to be on my way.”

She felt her heart jump painfully at the thought that he might agree. That made no sense. Although she was careful to lie as little as possible, the half-truths she was telling were becoming so complicated, so twisted, that she was in real danger of tripping over them. Balfour desired her, and she was sure she lacked the will or strength to resist him for very long. Nigel desired her, something she could easily resist, but could also stir up trouble between the brothers and catch her firmly in the middle. James did not trust her. It would be wise to just leave before any or all of these complications caught her too firmly in their grasp. Yet, she stood tensely waiting for Balfour to give her a reason to linger at Donncoill. To her utter disgust, she knew it would not have to be a good one.

“Nay, ye should stay. Nigel still has need of your skilled care,” Balfour said, reaching out and catching her by the hand. “As ye say, he could do something foolish. He is also still bedridden, weak, and must take care not to damage himself. Your skills kept him alive. I now need them to get him back on his feet, walking as straight and strong as he e’er did.”

Maldie offered no resistance as he slowly pulled her into his arms. “And ready to draw his sword.”

“I will need him at my side when I ride against Beaton. Aye, I need him ready and able to wield his sword in the fight.” He pushed her thick hair back over her shoulders and touched a kiss to the hollow at the base of her ear. “Eric needs both of his brothers fighting to free him.” He gently nibbled on her silken earlobe and delighted in the way
she softly trembled in his arms.

“Eric is most fortunate in the family fate has chosen for him.”

Maldie slipped her arms around his neck and lifted her face up toward his. It was a silent, shameless request for a kiss, but she did not care. His kisses made her feel good and she was hungry for them. One kiss could push all the troubled thoughts from her mind and all the fear from her heart. She even craved the way the touch of his lips sent warmth flowing through her body, making her tremble and her breath quicken. Maldie inwardly smiled as she admitted to herself that she simply liked the taste of him. She sighed and closed her eyes when he lightly ran his long finger over her lips.

“Such a bonny, tempting mouth,” Balfour whispered.

His mouth was so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his breath, yet he hesitated to kiss her. Maldie partly opened her eyes, studying him from beneath her lowered lashes. She could see the passion in his dark eyes, but there was also a stillness to his expression that puzzled her. Try as she would, she could not clearly sense what he was feeling either. It was as if he had closed himself up, erected a barrier she could not penetrate, and, for reasons she did not really want to understand, that deeply troubled her. Was Balfour already sharing James’s suspicions about her?

“I thought ye wanted to kiss me,” she said, hating the touch of unsteadiness to her voice, for it was a sign of her uncertainty that he could easily read.

“I do,” he replied, a little surprised that he had the strength to resist her obvious welcome.

“Yet ye hesitate. I havenae said nay.”

“Oh, I ken that weel. Your
aye
is unspoken yet verra clear.” He caressed her cheek with his fingers. “In truth, your invitation is such an exquisite mix of innocence and wantonness that I am fairly aching to answer it.”

“But ye dinnae.”

“Nay, for ’tis not just a kiss I need. Nay, nor even as much as we shared a week past in the shelter of the half-built tower. I have no patience for this game anymore. None. Aye, I should find it for ye are an innocent, but, mayhap, I am weak. Or mayhap I am just greedy and too selfish to tell myself nay.”

“What are ye talking about?”

He framed her face with his hands, almost smiling at her expression. A beautiful myriad of emotions had put a flush in her cheeks and darkened her eyes to a rich, velvety green. She looked a delightful mix of confused, irritated, and nervous, but a hint of passion lurked behind all of those.

“I am trying to say that, if ye let me kiss you,” he brushed his lips over hers, loving the way she briefly followed his mouth with hers when he pulled back, “if ye let me touch you, I willnae let ye run away this time. No retreat, no sudden crying of
nay
when every bonny inch of you quietly cries out
aye
. I will have it all, Maldie, or I will have none.”

“Isnae that a wee bit unfair?” she whispered.

“Aye, that it may be, and probably not verra honorable either. But when I hold you, I fear my hunger for you devours all my guilt. So, what say ye?”

Maldie stared at him, knowing she ought to be furious about his all or nothing demand, yet understanding what pushed him to make it. If he suffered even part of the longing she did when she turned away from the passion they stirred in each other, she
was surprised he had shown as much patience as he had. Looking into his dark eyes she knew that she had none left. She no longer wanted to just dream of all they could share. She wanted to know. If it proved to be a mistake, she would deal with the consequences later.

“Aye,” she whispered.

Maldie stood tense and unsure as Balfour carefully released her and turned to bar the door. The taut look on his face and the way his eyes had darkened nearly to black told her that he had heard her soft assent. It also told her that, if she chose to change her mind now, he might not hear her. She had heard it said that a man could be blinded by passion. Maldie felt that Balfour was afflicted in that way. It did not frighten her, even though she knew it ought to, but she decided she was suffering from the same disease. Passion, she mused as he turned back to face her, could be a heedless thing. It was surely pushing her forward into what could become a very troublesome, complicated situation, and ensuring that she simply did not care.

“Say it again,” Balfour demanded in a thick, husky voice as he picked her up in his arms and walked over to the bed. “I need to hear ye say it again.”

“Aye.” She gasped when he dropped her onto the wide, soft bed and sprawled on top of her. “I was certain ye had heard me the first time, for ye locked the door.”

“I did, but hearing that one sweet word caused such a madness to flow o’er me, I decided I needed to hear it again. I feared I may have heard only what I wished to and not what ye had truly said.”

“If I had said
nay
, I wouldnae have stood there so quietly as ye locked the door.”

He laughed shakily. “True. If I had the wit left to think clearly I would have kenned that. Are ye certain?”

“I may be innocent in body, my fine dark knight, but not in knowledge. I lived in a wee hovel with my mother and what grew to be a continuous line of men.” She saw sympathy soften the passion tautened lines of his face and touched her fingers to his mouth. “Nay, dinnae speak your pity aloud. Sometimes a poor woman can do naught else to gain the food needed to keep herself and her bairn alive. Mayhap she had other choices, but she was gentle born and had little skill or knowledge. At times, I think most of the shame lies with those who ne’er helped her, ne’er lifted a hand to save her from the need to abase herself. I but speak of it so that ye ken I speak the truth when I say I ken what ye are asking of me and also ken exactly what I am agreeing to.” She twined her arms around his neck and tugged his mouth closer to hers. “Now, I hadnae thought that ye were asking to talk.”

“Nay. Howbeit, I do wish to say one thing, and that is to bless your mother for keeping ye from suffering her fate.”

Maldie let his kiss silence any answer she might have been compelled to make. He did not need to know the full ugly truth, that it was she and not her mother who had preserved her chastity. From the moment she had changed from a child into a woman, men had tried to steal or buy her innocence. There had been times when her mother had been desperate enough to be angered by her stubborn refusal to accept any of the offers. Those were painful memories, and she was more than willing to let Balfour and passion push them from her mind.

“I wish I had the skill to caress you with bonny words,” he said as he began to unlace her gown with unsteady hands. “’Twould be most fine to speak love words to you like some minstrel.”

“I have no need for poetry and song.” She grasped his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “If words fail ye, speak with these.” She touched a kiss to his lips. “And these. They and how they make me feel are what have drawn me here, nay pretty words.”

Balfour groaned and hungrily kissed her, yanking the leather thong from her hair and burying his hands deep in its silken thickness. Her soft words made him half-mad with desire for her. They were a clear, sweet affirmation that she felt the same passion he did. He prayed that he could retain the will to go slowly with her, to help her feel the full reward of their desires despite it being her first time.

Maldie tried to pull his mouth back to hers when he ended the kiss, then murmured her pleasure as he covered her throat with fevered kisses. A small part of her was aware of the removal of her gown, but she simply lifted her hips to make it easier for him. She closed her eyes when she felt him tug off her shoes and begin to pull off her stockings, afraid that if she saw him removing her clothes modesty might make her hesitant. Maldie wanted nothing to interfere with the way he made her feel. The way he stroked her legs with his big, lightly calloused hands stole her breath away, making it very easy to think of nothing but him and the passion he ignited within her. When he returned to her arms, she clung to him, but his kiss was too brief to satisfy her greed.

She trembled as he unlaced her chemise, his long fingers brushing against her skin. When he kissed the space between her breasts, she gasped and clutched at his shoulders. He gently loosened her grip and she felt a brief coolness on her skin as he slipped off her chemise. She felt his fingers slowly trail across the top of her braies, and she cautiously peeked at him from beneath her lashes. He was staring at her braies as if he had never seen the garment before, and she suspected he had never met a woman who wore them before.

“Protection,” she said, astonished at how thick and husky her voice was.

“Clever,” was all he said as he began to take off his clothes.

Without the touch of his hands or his lips Maldie had begun to feel her passion cool, enough so that she was becoming uncomfortably aware of her near nakedness. Watching him disrobe pushed aside that unease. She had to clench her hands tightly to keep from reaching out for him. His skin was dark and smooth, stretched taut over hard muscle. He had no hair upon his chest but small dark curls began just below his navel, the line broadening out to cushion his manhood. His legs were long and well shaped, lightly coated with black hair. She did not flinch away from the sight of him in a state of full arousal. It bemused her that she could suddenly find attractive something that had always frightened or disgusted her before. Passion, she decided, was a wondrous thing. It not only made one ready to cast aside all reticence, but could make what had always appeared ugly and threatening into something she not only appreciated but craved.

The odd smile on Maldie’s face made Balfour uncertain as he slowly returned to her arms, shuddering with pleasure as their flesh touched. “I am verra brown,” he murmured, sliding his hand up her rib cage and, almost reverently, moving it over her breasts.

“And I am verra thin,” she said, her breath quickening as his touch restored the warmth to her body.

“Lithe,” he whispered against her skin as he slowly encircled her breasts with kisses. “I but wondered why ye were smiling. It can make a mon uneasy when a woman smiles upon seeing him naked.”

She laughed softly, then realized that he had mistaken the reason for her smile, that he had thought her amused by his appearance. It was increasingly hard to think clearly when each touch of his lips caused her insides to tighten with need, but she said, “I was
but amused by my response to seeing ye naked and rampant. I have always seen that engorged staff as a weapon, ugly and threatening, yet I found myself pleased at the sight of yours. Passion, I thought, not only clouds one’s thoughts, but one’s eyes.” He laughed softly against her skin and she could feel his relief, his joy at her approval.

“Pleased, eh?” He flicked his thumb over the hardened tip of her breast.

“Aye, pleased,” she replied, surprised that she could still speak coherently.

“Nay afraid?”

“Nay, not at all.”

“Losing your chastity willnae be painless, though I shall try to stir your passion high and hot enough to soften the blow.”

“I ken it will hurt, but I am already caught in too great a fever to care.” When he slowly drew her nipple deep into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and gently suckling, she groaned and buried her fingers in his thick hair. “Aye, ’tis a verra great fever indeed.”

Maldie shifted restlessly beneath his caresses, trying to press her body against his and clucking with impatience when he skillfully evaded her. Each tug upon her breast increased her need to move against him, to wrap herself around him, but he kept moving out of her reach. A slight coolness touched her skin as he tugged off her braies, but the warmth swiftly returned as he stroked her thighs and covered her belly with kisses. She gasped and started to pull away, shock breaking through passion’s grip when he slid his hand up her inner thigh and caressed her intimately, but he held her steady until his touch stole away all resistance. Maldie opened to him, holding him tight as he returned his kisses to her breasts.

Soon she became so taut with a need she had no word for that she called out to him. In a heartbeat he was there, kissing her as he nudged her legs apart and eased his body down on top of hers. She shuddered, echoing his groan as she moved against him. Although she lacked the words to voice her need, her body knew exactly what it wanted.

As he slowly joined his body to hers, she could feel him watching her, but she kept her eyes shut. Maldie wanted nothing to distract her from all she was feeling, and she was sure that she would be captivated by the look in his dark eyes, so much so that she feared she might miss some small part of the experience. As his body united with hers she became acutely aware of all he was feeling. His passion, his need, and his taut anticipation matched and blended with hers, heightening them. There was a strong deep emotion inside of him as well, one she could feel within herself, but could not immediately recognize. Nor was she sure she could trust her judgment at the moment. Then he tore through her maidenhead and the quick, sharp pain pushed all thought from her mind. She heard herself cry out and Balfour grew very still.

Maldie waited a moment for him to do more than occasionally touch a kiss to her face, then cautiously opened her eyes. He was watching her intently. The taut lines of his face, the intensity of his dark gaze, and the flush upon his high-boned cheeks all told her that his passion was barely controlled, yet he did not act upon it. She slid her hand down his side and over his hip. He shuddered and closed his eyes, lightly touching his sweat-dampened forehead to hers.

“Why have ye grown so still?” she asked, hearing the same tremor in her voice that was washing over her body.

“I wished to let your pain ease,” he answered, looking into her eyes and catching
his breath when he saw the gleam of strong passion there.

“My pain?” She wrapped her legs around his lean hips.

“I heard ye cry out from it.”

“Ah, and that soft noise brought ye to a halt?”

“Aye.” His eyes widened slightly when she gave him a slow, distinctly sultry smile.

“Then do tell this poor wee innocent what noise she must make to get ye to continue.”

He laughed unsteadily as he touched his lips to hers. “A wee moan of delight?”

Maldie complied, then gasped when he began to move inside of her. She clung to him, enfolding him tightly within her arms and her legs. He kissed her, his tongue mimicking the slow, deep thrusts of his body. The last clear thought Maldie had was that Balfour was still keeping a tight rein on himself, then she lost herself in a maze of emotion. Something inside of her grew taut, so taut it was almost frightening, and then it snapped. She heard herself cry out even as she tried, nearly frantically, to pull Balfour more deeply inside of her. The way he suddenly began to move with more ferocity only enhanced the feelings bursting throughout her body. She cried out again, in fierce encouragement, when he grabbed her by the hips and plunged deep within her, groaning out her name as he shuddered. Maldie pressed her face against his strong neck, shivering with pleasure as she felt him empty himself inside of her.

For a long time Maldie continued to hold him close, fighting to cling to the feelings his loving had filled her body with. She savored the way he felt in her arms, the gentle touch of his hand as he stroked her side, and even the way their bodies still faintly trembled. When he began to move away she murmured her regret, hating the way he seemed to take all warmth with him. She closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands, when he returned to their bed with a damp cloth and washed them both off. By the time he crawled back into bed and pulled her into his arms, she was clearheaded again, thinking again, and she was not sure she wanted to be.

When Maldie said nothing, just curled up in his arms and frowned, Balfour began to grow nervous. He had pushed her into bed, had used her passion for him to get what he ached for faster than she may have wished to give it. It was not simply passion that had driven him, either. Nigel’s blatant interest in Maldie had made Balfour desperate to mark her as his own. He could never tell her that. Nor could he tell her that his less than honorable plan had turned back on him. Not only had he marked her as his, or so he hoped, but she had innocently left her mark on him as well. He was hers. Completely. The moment their bodies had been joined as one, he had known it. All the feelings he had struggled to ignore or deny had been confirmed as truth. It was a grave revelation, one he neither wanted nor had the time to deal with at the moment. The longer Maldie remained quiet, the more he began to fear that she had somehow guessed what he felt. She had already revealed a true skill at sensing what others felt. He prayed that this was not one of those times.

“How fare ye?” he asked, tilting her face up to his.

Maldie stared up at him and idly wondered what would happen if she told him exactly what she had been thinking. She loved him. She had known it the moment their bodies had become one. If passion had not held her so tightly in its grip, she suspected she would have fled the room, perhaps even fled Donncoill. Balfour did not ask for love,
only passion. That was all she had thought she wanted. She had successfully talked herself out of wanting, needing, or even feeling anything more—until now. It was hardly Balfour’s fault that she was a fool, one who had lied to herself and not faced the truth until it was too late to turn back.

“I am fine,” she replied. “Ye dinnae still fret o’er causing me pain, do ye?”

“Nay, yet ye were verra quiet. So quiet I feared something was troubling you.”

“Not troubled really. Just thinking. I hadnae fully considered how final my decision was. I wasnae so slow-witted that I thought I could give away my maidenhead one night and grow a new one the next day. Nothing as foolish as that. ’Tis just that I cannae say
nay
again, can I?”