Highland Dragon (18 page)

Stunned, Akira gave her head a little shake, certain she’d either misunderstood the woman or fallen into another trap as she had with Evie. Then, she remembered Evie’s words and the pale yellow hairs in the brush in the lady’s chamber.

The woman sauntered a full circle around her, and Akira felt eyes scrutinize her body. With a long slender finger, the woman traced Akira’s gold chain then followed the ribbing of her bodice over her shoulder. Akira’s jaw lowered to speak, but shock kept her from moving or forming a sentence.

“Do take care not to stretch the seams of my gowns. Elsbeth slaved for days to get each stitch perfect.”

Catriona stepped closer. Her eyes closed, and she inhaled deeply. “Ah. You are wearing my scent. Jasmine. Those decanters came all the way from the Indies. Do be careful with the lavender atomizer. My aunt was quite fond of that particular piece.” Catriona’s accent twirled like that of English nobility.

The rhythm of Akira’s heart became erratic. The words caught her so unguarded, she froze in a dumbfounded stupor, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her.

Catriona continued to scrutinize her with her soulless eyes. “I trust you are treating my Calin well?”

My Calin!
Akira repeated the words in her head. “He is not
your
Calin.”

“Aye. I suspect not completely anymore. But I am not a greedy shrew. I have already generously given you three days with him. But he’ll soon come back to me, unable to resist what’s become so habitual for us.”

With her gut churning in denial, Akira scanned the landscape. She didn’t know what she searched for, but she could no longer bear the woman’s presence. She swiveled around Catriona, only to be trapped between her words and the wide trunk of an ash tree. A tree she considered climbing.

Akira swallowed hard. “If ye are so certain of Calin’s loyalty, why did he not marry ye?”

“He chose Scotland over England. But I can assure you, your King James will not support your marriage.” She twisted a loose tendril of Akira’s hair around her finger, pulling roughly at the temple before releasing it, only to reach for Akira’s hand to circle the Celtic wedding band. “Calin did not marry you. He married Scotland. And once Scotland provides him with an heir, he will await me with open arms. He promised me a place at Cànwyck Castle and in his bed.”

The woman’s wicked assertions couldn’t be true. Calin promised her he wouldn’t take a mistress until after she had borne him six bairns. The woman must be deluded, or Calin lied. The cold steel of betrayal knifed through her heart. Akira clasped her trembling hands together then moved away from her. “Whatever role ye may have once played in m’laird’s life is over. He has vowed fidelity to me before God and the kirk,” she declared with words as stern as she could muster.

“Do not be naïve.” The woman slithered around Akira, brushing her breasts against Akira’s back. “I am certain you have discovered my Calin is a virile man. ’Twill take more than one woman to please him. And once you carry his heir, he will need an experienced leman to tend to his needs.”

“He’ll not take a mistress. He has promised me this.”

The humorless laugh vibrating out of Catriona’s mouth mocked Akira’s innocence. “You have known the man a sennight and already you trust his word?”

“Aye.” Akira’s sounded confident, but at the moment she wasn’t sure.

“We shall become dear friends. The role you undertake requires a significant amount of responsibility. You will reign over the servants, and I shall tend to Calin. Of course, when your time comes, I will share him long enough for you to provide him an heir.”

Akira’s mouth parched from her rage. “Catriona, ye may return to whatever pile of English refuse ye crawled out of. There is only one word for a woman like ye. ’Tis not mistress. ’Tis whore. I dinnae associate with whores, nor do I befriend them. Ye are deranged if ye think I’ll give leave to sharing aught with ye. Least of all my husband.” Akira drew a breath and turned to separate herself from Calin’s mistress. “Heed me, or ye will be exiled.”

Akira’s threat didn’t seem to affect Catriona in the least. “I agree. We mustn’t share everything. We shall have separate solars, as well as pet names. He probably calls you…” She ran a finger over Akira’s collarbone while contemplating, “…his sweetheart. Wait…that wouldn’t be fitting for a wife. Too…sweet. Yes, that’s what he calls you. ‘My sweet.’ ‘My sweet, sweet Akira.’ Am I right?”

Akira didn’t answer. How could she have knowledge of this? Had Calin called her this as well?

“Or perhaps you have already progressed to ‘kitten.’ My Calin called me his kitten for a while. But after a year of purring in his bed, I became his cat. So you may be his sweet kitten, as long as you remember I’ll always be his cat.”

Akira ripped Catriona’s hand away from her chest and held her at arm’s length. “Ye’ll not be his anything. Not his mistress, his whore, or his cat. Ye will be banished for disrespecting my status as his wife.”

“Tsk, tsk, kitten. You must tame your claws.” Catriona pressed closer, trapping Akira against the tree. “You cannot threaten me. I’ll have my Calin back in my bed. This I promise you. The MacLeod men are loyal to me. I have only to bat my eyes, and you will find yourself on the auction block again.”

“Get away from me.” Akira pushed her away with one hand then smashed a clenched fist into the side of her face. Catriona withered gracefully to the ground. Akira clutched the sides of her skirt, sprinted up the rampart, and into the front of the keep. Whirling past the laundress carrying linens, Akira climbed the steps two at a time. She entered the dimly lit corridor screaming, “Evie! Tara!”

Following the maids into her solar, she barred the door then dashed across the solar to do the same to the adjoining doors of Calin’s solar. The scarlet gown felt like a swarm of bees crawling over her skin. Reaching awkwardly behind her back, Akira groped with the fastenings, but escaping the gown would be impossible alone.

“Get this gown off me!” Her hands shook violently when she outstretched her arms. “Loosen the laces. Now!”

Tara flinched. “M’laird’s been patiently waiting in his solar. I am certain there is nay need for such haste, m’lady.”

Akira tried desperately to control her tongue. The maids did not deserve her rage, but her teeth couldn’t hold back her anger. “If either of ye speak another word, I’ll have ye relocated to the scullery. I want Elsbeth in my solar at first light.”

Evie fumbled with the task of gloving Akira in a pale blue nightshift. Trembling fingers pulled the silk material snuggly over her hips. “Would ye like me to tend to your hair, m’lady?” she asked cautiously.

“Nay!” The word came out as a bellow, and Akira regretted showing her temper. Her mind whirled around blond ringlets and smooth creamy skin. Catriona’s face smirked at her behind her eyes. She felt faint. Her knees knocked. Her throat constricted. “Forgive me. I’ll not send either of ye to the scullery. Please, go. I wish to be alone.”

“But m’laird said to send ye—”

“I care not what he said. And I can assure ye my solar will need tending to on the morrow.” Akira’s words were short, clipped, and full of anger.

Evie stepped through the archway behind Tara, but held the door slightly ajar. “M’lady, I saw ye with her after the games. I can assure ye, whatever Catriona said was a lie.”

Akira slammed and barred the door. Bitter tears stung her eyes. Her body became too heavy to hold. She slid to the floor in a heap of muffled sobs. A fool. That is what she was. To believe she might be privy to the same love that Mam and Papa shared was a little girl’s dream. Calin had agreed not to take a mistress, but he hadn’t mentioned that he already had one. Hiding the truth was as deceptive as lying. He admitted he married to form the alliance. Another truth he tried to hide. Once she carried the MacLeod heir, he would hold true to the vow he made to his mistress.

She was so beautiful. Her every movement spoke of nobility. How was Akira supposed to vie for Calin’s attentions against such grace and dignity? Deep down, she knew she was a peasant trying to be something she wasn’t and never could be. She didn’t want this life. The hurt felt unbearable, and the painful pinch on her heart made breathing a chore.

The latch rattled. A slight movement shook the adjoining doors. Then she heard him.

“Remove the bolt.” Calin’s tone was calm, yet held merit.

Akira searched the walls of the chamber. She was trapped. Trapped in another woman’s solar. Dressed in another woman’s gowns. With another woman’s man. Her perfumes. Her bed.

She couldn’t breathe.

She clapped her hands over her ears to stifle the incessant rapping on the adjoining doors. The fevered knock escalated. Then stopped all at once.

Heartbeats later, she lurched forward when he came to the door at her back. Forcefully, he rattled the handle. The beating rumble of his fist against the wooden door pulsed in time with her heart.

“Unbar the door, or I swear I’ll break it down. By the saints, wife, dinnae push me this night. I’ve had enough of your temper to last me ten lifetimes.”

“Thalla gu Taigh na Galla!”
Akira screamed. Her feelings of rejection quickly turned to anger—an uncontrollable fury she intended to unleash. She crossed the chamber to the dressing table, grabbed the lavender atomizer that reeked of Catriona’s exotic scent, and then hurled the crystal at the door. Three more bottles of expensive scented water followed in its wake. “I hope ye choke on your lies!
Déverminage enfer,
husband!”

The aroma wafted from beneath the door as a puddle of heady scents seeped through the glowing crack. Calin expected her to be perturbed, but to cast him to the flames of the netherworld in multiple languages seemed a bit much. His neglect of her seemed childish now, still and all, he should be the one throwing a tantrum. Following the fourth crash against the door, his patience reached its peak. Weary from the day, he wanted to end this bickering and seek his reward, but he would talk himself to death before his wee fire-breathing dragon opened the door.

Hard muscles corded in irritation. Biting back a curse, he stormed into his solar and retrieved the battle-axe from its mount above the hearth. Raising the weapon high above his head, Calin pummeled the steel edge into the adjoining doors. Fragments of wood shot like arrows across the chamber. The force of one fierce blow sent the heavy doors crashing against the interior walls. He caught Akira around the waist as she made an escape into the hallway.

Wrenching her back into the chamber, he chucked the axe to the floor, and then barred the exterior door. Confusion engulfed him. Only a fire lit the chamber, but even with one eye sealed shut, he saw her anger. Fisted hands, heaving chest, flaring nostrils. If she held a weapon, he would be inhaling his last breath. Behind swollen eyes lay a rage he meant to subdue. “Ye are wild and untamed, Akira MacLeod, and ’tis time ye learned your place.”

The gilded brush she threw at him nicked his shoulder. She sidestepped barefooted to the hearth. “There is nay place for me here. Not this solar. Not yours. This all belongs to someone else, as do your affections. I am only here because my presence will unite the Isles.”

Calin’s brow furrowed in the middle as he walked toward her. The material of his plaid swayed loosely from his waist. He had her cornered. When he reached for her, she held him back with both palms against his chest. Prepared for her strength, he pressed closer. “Your place is here, with me.”

Hatred crawled from her eyes to her hand. Rearing back, she slapped him. “Your words mean naught to me. I’ve been blinded by them. Words ye used to coax me into your bed. I made a grave mistake believing your lies. Ye are nothing more than a mon owned by a country. Controlled by a king.”

Blood trickled into his mouth from an earlier wound. He’d never struck a woman, but never had one provoked him to such a breaking point that raw fury seeped into his fingertips. Calin spit blood into the hearth then reached for her again.

And again, she held him at bay. “Ye will never touch me again.”

The shock of her words sent his teeth to grinding. The chieftain of Clan MacLeod didn’t cower to a woman, nor did he take orders from one. He’d given her everything, hoping for a morsel of praise, of attention, but all she gave him were spiteful words he didn’t think he deserved. She treated him like the enemy. “Ye are my wife. Ye belong to me, and I’ll touch ye whenever and wherever I please.”

His edict seemed to infuriate her further. For a brief moment, he thought she might suffer an apoplexy. The soft flesh beneath her darkened blue eyes quivered uncontrollably. “Why are ye so angry with me? Ye are the one who spent the last two days kissing my kinsmen.”

Akira exhaled a sarcastic chuckle. “This is why ye’ve avoided me for two days? Because I awarded a few filthy warriors with a peck on the cheek or at most a puckered kiss as is customary?”

Calin backed her up to the settee, giving her little choice other than to stand atop the cushion. Matching his full height, she edged close. “How dare ye accuse me of betrayal for paying heed to your kinsmen when ye are the one who spent the last year rutting with an English woman. The same woman who believes she belongs in your bed. And probably, the same woman whose bed ye were in last night.”

The cause of her sudden spike in temperament became evident. His wife had met Catriona. Guilt overwhelmed him.

Still, he had broken no vows. “I spent the night in a vacant chamber in the east tower. I wasnae in her bed, nor will I be in her bed in the future. I’ve promised ye this.”

“Ye promised me ye wouldnae take a mistress until after I delivered ye seven bairns. Ye failed to mention ye already had a mistress.”

Had that number nearly doubled since her boon in the tree? The woman was wowf.

“Your promises mean naught to me. Ye speak half-truths. I’ll not be married to a mon who deceives me.” She crossed her arms over her breast and raised a victorious eyebrow. “I want an annulment.”

Shock bulged his eyes. Rage so raw he could taste it on his tongue flared within him. He was a man of honor, a man of pride, a man sick to death of trying to win his wife’s affections. Without so much as a grunt, he grabbed her around the waist then hauled her kicking and screaming into his solar. He threw her atop the bed. “Our marriage cannae be annulled,
wife.
We have already consummated our union. And I intend to consummate it some more.”