Authors: Hannah Howell
Highland Hunger (5 page)
“Aye, the MacNachtons are an arrogant lot.” He lightly stroked her thick braid draped over the shoulder closest to him. “A mon needs to ken his strengths weel or he isnae at his best in a fight. We may have this weakness that causes us to have to hide from the sun, but we also have many strengths and we learn young how to use them. Ye have some, but, I think, ye have always done your best to hide them away and never learned how best to use them against your enemy.”
Una frowned and then nodded. He was right. She had used her strengths in times of danger, but in a wild, panicked way, not with any true skill. Nor had any of her fellow prisoners who were still held captive. They lashed out wildly, as she did, and such an unskilled attack was probably easy to plan against.
“Ye could teach me how to use those strengths,” she said, seeing the way he stroked her braid when she turned her head to look at him, but finding she was unable to protest the touch, as she knew she should.
“I can and I will.” He could feel the need to sleep creeping over him and knew the chance to take the next step in his wooing would soon be lost. “And I will. We can start as soon as the sun sets,” he promised and then kissed her.
Although he did not rush at her like some untried youth, Raibeart moved quickly enough that she had no time to protest. Her small hands slapped against his chest, but she did not push him away, and he did not try to press his body any closer to hers. Her mouth was soft and sweet, the taste of her one he already craved, but he tightly leashed his hunger for more than the innocent closed-mouth kiss he gave her. When he lifted his head, he winked at her before lying back down and turning his back to her. This time it was not just to avoid any recriminations or arguments but also to hide his arousal. For once he was glad of the way he could not easily deny the need to sleep as the sun rose.
Una stared at Raibeart’s back and touched her mouth with trembling fingers. She could still feel the heat of his mouth against hers and her heart was pounding, but not with fear. It occurred to her that she might have misjudged Raibeart. The man might well know a thing or two about wooing after all.
Chapter Five
“This is a crypt.”
Raibeart looked at Una and almost grinned at the way she scowled at the effigy of a knight that topped a large stone coffin. She did not appear afraid, but she was definitely not pleased by his choice of shelters. After two nights of hiding from and eluding hunters and sleeping in shelters that were little more than holes in the ground, he was pleased to be in a large place with stone walls and a floor. He suspected she would grow less dismayed when he showed her the place where she could actually take a bath. It was one reason he always sought this shelter when traveling this particular path to and from Cambrun.
“Aye,” he said. “There isnae much left of the wee stone chapel that used to cover it, though.”
“I noticed.” She realized she had seen no house, no keep or peel tower. “Whose is it?”
“A wee part of the Chisholm clan used it. The family who built this and tended the lands here died long ago. Plague took them all, and the few shepherds or villagers who survived went elsewhere. I suspicion many fled once the first person fell ill with the plague. Naught left here but these old bones and ruins.” He walked up to her and lightly tugged on her braid when she frowned. “And, nay, ye willnae catch the plague by staying here.”
Una grimaced at her own foolish fears, more so at the fact that Raibeart had guessed them. “I ken it. ’Tis mostly that even the word plague is enough to make one tremble.”
“Weel, I ken of something that will please ye enough to take the fear away.” He took her by the hand and started to lead her toward the rubble-strewn rear of the crypt. “Trust me. Ye will like this.”
She was not quite sure what there could be to like in a house of the dead, but she did not resist his tug on her hand. It made her uncomfortable to be inside the crypt, but she did prefer it to where they had slept for the last two days. Those places had been enough to leave her with a fear of being buried alive.
The sound of water drew her attention just as Raibeart led her around a corner and into a smaller chamber. She gaped at what she saw. There was a deep hollow in the rock floor and water trickled down the stone wall to fill it. It was obvious there was some way for the water to escape the stone basin or the crypt would have been flooded long ago despite how slowly the water ran into the pool. A light cloud of mist hung over the pool. She tugged her hand free of Raibeart’s grasp, knelt beside the pool, and dipped her fingers into the water.
“ ’Tis warm,” she whispered in astonishment. “How can it be warm?”
“There are springs that can run warm, e’en hot, here and there.” Raibeart moved to the corner of the room where there were several bundles stacked on a rough wooden shelf. “We keep some supplies here.” He opened a bundle and held out a length of linen. “My clan stops here whenever they can and, I think, ’tis mostly because of the pool.”
“I can bathe in it?” Even as she asked, she stuck her arm down into the water, uncaring of how she soaked the sleeves of her gown, touching the stone at the bottom just as she reached her armpit. “It has an odd smell,” she murmured, taking a deep breath. “Nay bad, just a little odd.”
“We have decided that, whatever it is, ’tis verra soothing. Takes away the aches of a long ride.”
Una took the drying cloth from his hands, eager to bathe away the dust of their journey, but suddenly realizing she had a problem. “I dinnae have anything clean to put on after I bathe.”
“Between a drying cloth and one of these shirts someone left, ye could cover yourself decently enough. Then ye can wash out what ye wear now.”
Raibeart found himself pushed out of the room before he could say another word. He laughed softly and went to make a fire. It would be best if he kept busy or he would think too much on how close Una was, naked and in the warm water of the pool. He stopped and closed his eyes, shuddering at the thought of how close he was to all he craved to hold. It was going to be a very long day.
Una tossed aside her clothes and slid into the water, a sigh of pleasure escaping her. She sank in up to her chin, rested her head against the edge of the pool, and closed her eyes. Raibeart was right. The water might have an odd smell, but it soaked away every ache in her body.
The moment Raibeart came to mind, she thought of him sharing this pool with her, his fine, strong body as naked as her own. Una opened her eyes so quickly and widely they stung. Her heart was pounding and parts of her itched, ached even, at the mere thought of Raibeart naked. She could almost feel his skin against hers, feel him kissing her, touching her, and her body grew warm.
Just as it had when he had kissed her on the mouth the third day they rested, she thought. He had nipped at her bottom lip, causing her to part her lips, and had slipped his tongue into her mouth. The way he had stroked the inside of her mouth as he had pulled her body close to his had made her ache, in her breasts and between her legs. She had clung to him not only because she liked to touch him, but because her knees had actually grown too weak to hold her upright. It had been the same when he had kissed her when they had wakened. It was the same now and all she had done was think about it.
This was lust, she realized, and sat up, the sudden knowledge clearing the fog of fear and confusion from her mind. Una grabbed the small bowl of soap Raibeart had left her and the scrap of linen to wash with, and began to scrub herself clean as she thought over what she now knew. She had never lusted before and was not sure what to do about it. A maid did not just trot off to find someone to soothe that itch, not like a man would. And, Una knew only one man would do for her anyway. A man who was close at hand and was attempting to woo her.
“Curse it, just what does he mean by that?” she muttered. “Woo to his bed or woo to be his wife?”
Setting aside the cloth and putting a little soap in her hands, Una began to wash her hair. The way her body was so quickly enflamed by Raibeart’s kiss told her that her lust for him was a powerful thing. It would not take much more of his wooing before she found herself no longer a maid. What she needed to do was decide if she wished to allow that or if she should step away from him now, make it very clear to him that he could do no more wooing. She would stay a maid.
Why?
whispered a voice in her head and she had no answer. Why indeed? She was three and twenty and had been on her own, without home or family, for seven years. In all those years she could count the number of times she had felt safe or happy on the fingers of one hand. Raibeart made her feel both. There was also little chance that she would wed because of her differences so whom was she saving her maidenhead for? Should it not go to the one man in her whole life that made her feel safe, happy, and even beautiful?
whispered a voice in her head and she had no answer. Why indeed? She was three and twenty and had been on her own, without home or family, for seven years. In all those years she could count the number of times she had felt safe or happy on the fingers of one hand. Raibeart made her feel both. There was also little chance that she would wed because of her differences so whom was she saving her maidenhead for? Should it not go to the one man in her whole life that made her feel safe, happy, and even beautiful?
Una grinned as she stepped out of the pool and dried herself, wrapping the damp cloth around her wet hair and then donning the shirt he had left for her. She wanted Raibeart and she could take what she wanted for once in her life. As she rinsed out her clothes and spread them out to dry on some of the rubble cluttering the room, she wondered exactly how she could do that. When she stood up to return to the large chamber, she suffered the pinch of uncertainty but shook it aside. Raibeart had shown that he wanted her, even said he intended to woo her. Whether he meant seduction or marriage no longer mattered. He was about to be claimed. She unwrapped her hair and used the cloth to rub it dry as she went hunting her prey.
Raibeart looked up as Una entered the chamber and he nearly choked. She was slowly rubbing her hair dry as she walked toward him. The shirt she wore hung to her knees, but he knew she wore nothing beneath it. Each time she raised her arms a little to rub her hair, the shirt slipped up to her thighs. His hands itched to touch all that smooth skin she was showing him. Instead he nodded and hurried out of the room to take his own bath. He just wished the water were cold.
The sight of her clothing draped over the scattered rocks did nothing to help him regain his calm. It reminded him all too clearly of the fact that all that stood between him and her beautiful skin was one thin shirt. He had always considered desire something a man could easily control, but he had no control around Una, his body demanding that he claim her every time he looked at her.
Raibeart shook his head as he shed his clothes and entered the pool. He was going to have to try harder. His wooing appeared to be working but, after all Una had suffered, he doubted she was ready for a man half blind with hunger for her.
By the time he was bathed and dressed in clean clothing, he was again in control of his desires. Then he stepped up to the small fire she sat near and she smiled at him. His body clenched tightly with the wanting he had just thought he had conquered. Gritting his teeth, he sat down beside her on the blanket she had spread out. Despite all his attempts to keep his gaze fixed on the flames, he was soon staring at her long, slim legs and clenching his fists to stop himself from touching them.
Una picked up Raibeart’s wineskin, turned to offer it to him, and grew very still. Raibeart was staring at her legs much as a starving man stared at any scrap of food. She wondered if there was something alarming about the MacNachtons he had not told her, and then told herself not to be so slack-witted.
She recognized that look on his face. The tightening of the lines of his face, the hint of color riding his high cheekbones. It was desire. She had seen it on a man’s face before. It was a look that had always preceded a flare of violence and then her running for her life. It was a look she had learned to read as a warning of danger. Now, seeing that look on Raibeart’s handsome face, everything within her read it as an invitation. Una was just not certain how she could answer it in a way that was not too brazen.
Still holding the wineskin, she shifted until she was kneeling, facing him. Her breath caught in her throat when his gaze met hers. His dark eyes had gone feral, lightening until they were more a dark amber than a brown so dark it was almost black. It did not frighten her, however. Instead, it stirred to life a hunger that rose rapidly to equal the one she could read in those beautiful predator’s eyes.
“Do ye wish a drink?” she asked, a little surprised at how low and husky her voice was.
“Aye.” Raibeart took the wineskin from her hand and set it on the floor, never once taking his gaze from her face. “I do. A deep one.”
He kissed her, and Una shivered, heat flooding through her body the moment his lips touched hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, threaded her fingers through his hair, and held him close. The hunger she had seen in his eyes was revealed in his kiss. This was no gentle wooing. This was a man telling her that he wanted her, a man demanding that she give him what he needed.
It should have frightened her. Men had demanded before, had expected to be able to take what they wanted from her. It was why she had never settled anywhere since being driven from her family’s home. Each time she had tried, some man had thought she was free for the taking and tried to do just that despite her refusals. Una did not fear Raibeart. His demand did not make her want to fight him and run; it made her want to give, to share. She returned his kiss with a demand of her own.
Raibeart was close to shaking with the force of his need by the time he pushed Una down onto the blanket. He was not surprised to see the fine tremor in his hand as he began to unlace the shirt she wore, kissing each newly exposed patch of skin, inhaling the scent of her, and becoming drunk on the taste of her. The voice of reason in his mind tried to warn him to go slow, to be certain that Una was ready to make love, but it took several minutes before he grasped enough control to heed it.
“Una,” he said as he gently tugged the shirt aside to expose her softly rounded shoulder, “ye have but a heartbeat or two to tell me nay, to stop me.”
“If I was going to say nay, I would have done so ere ye got me on my back,” she whispered and nipped his chin.
He laughed but it was rough sound, more of a growl than anything else. “There will be nay going back.” Raibeart knew she would think he referred to her innocence, but he did not have the strength or the wit to explain what he really meant now.
“I ken that.”
Una placed her hands on his cheeks and tugged his mouth down to hers. She did not want to talk. Her mind was settled. She would have Raibeart, hold him close for as long as he allowed, and deal with the consequences of the heedlessness later.
When he tugged off the shirt she wore and tossed it aside, she could feel the heat of a blush sting her cheeks, neck, and chest. No man had ever seen her completely naked. Raibeart raised himself to his knees to tear off his clothing, and Una lost all concern over her own nudity. He was beautiful, all hard muscle and dark golden skin. She caught a quick look at his manhood, rising hard and long from a thatch of black curls, before he returned to her arms, but she pushed the image from her mind. That part of a man had represented a threat to her for far too long; she did not want the sight of it to chill the fire his touch had set blazing inside her.
The way he caressed her body with his large, calloused hands burned away the lingering uncertainty still lodged in her heart and mind. This was what she needed, what she wanted. When he followed the path of his hands with his mouth, she lost all ability to think at all, fierce desire grasping full control. Soft cries of delight escaped her as he kissed her breasts, whispered praises against them, suckled her like a child, and slowly slipped his hand between her legs. Each caress brought her such pleasure she feared she would lose herself in it but could not bring herself to care.
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