Highland Seer (22 page)

Ellie moved in the shadows to the sideboard and poured two cups. MacKyrie whisky. Donal grimaced. A powerful but enticing spirit, much like the woman who made it. She gave him a cup and took her seat, gaze on him, one eyebrow lifted, waiting for him to speak.

He took a sip of the strong drink. Smooth fire poured down his throat to his belly, warming him from the inside out, leaving behind a hint of a peaty, earthy taste. Was the whisky metaphor for the woman? A reflection of her spirit, her fire? Did she, like the whisky, also have an earthy side? Donal fervently hoped not, for if she ever showed it to him, his control would shatter in a surge of need the likes of which he dared not imagine. He’d be lost in her before either of them knew what happened.

“Why do ye wish to speak with me?” Ellie asked after taking a sip.

Donal hesitated. Now that he had her to himself, he had no idea how to approach his concerns without angering her or hurting her feelings, neither of which he wanted to do. He watched her lips kiss the cup as she sipped and imagined those lips on his skin. Remembered the taste of those lips under his. He tossed off the rest of his whisky and gave himself over to the fire as it burned its way to his belly, and below. If only it would burn away his desire for her. Instead, the flames she stoked within him leapt higher. He set the cup aside.

Seeing that, Ellie got up and poured more for him. She left the bottle on the table by his hand. “It must be serious to require fortification by the MacKyrie twenty-five-year-old.”

Serious? Nay, unless serious included a burning desire for the woman in front of him. The woman he could not have.

“What are ye doin’, Ellie?” The words slipped out before he could censor them. He already knew the answer. “Puttin’ yerself in my way, touching me every chance ye get. Do ye want me that much?”

The color rose in her cheeks. She cast her gaze down, then squared her shoulders and met his gaze full on. “Aye, ye ken I do.”

“Why? I’ve nothing to offer ye.”

“How can ye say that?”

“I am no laird. I have no lands, no bounty, no power to ally with yer clan’s.”

“Those things dinna matter to me, Donal.”

“They should.” He was shocked to hear that from a laird, especially this laird, knowing how desperately her clan needed a powerful alliance. “How can ye say that?”

At his frown, she continued, setting her cup aside and leaning toward him. “Ye have the skills I need. All the rest will come in time.”

“As do many others who are also lairds in their own right. Who could give ye those things right now. Ye must marry one of them.”

She hesitated then, the pink in her cheeks suddenly stained red, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“What is it, Ellie?”

She squared her shoulders and Donal let himself be distracted for a moment by the way the fabric of her dress tightened across her breasts.

“None of them fire my blood, Donal. Only ye.”

That floored him. “Has there been no one since yer husband died?”

“No one.”

Donal settled back into his seat and looked away, across the room, out the window, anywhere but at Ellie.

“Lass, ye’re infatuated with the idea of a man ye think possesses the skills ye need to save yer clan, as a warrior and a leader. That’s all.”

Ellie shook her head. “Nay, that canna be all there is to what I feel. I’m no’ a wee lass with stars in her eyes, mooning o’er a handsome lad with muscles and a big sword. If that were so, I’d already be married to a neighbor with an army to guard the keep and the will to rule it.”

“Like MacDuff?”

Ellie shuddered. “Aye.” She turned her face away. “Nay. I canna bear to think of that man touching me.”

Donal sighed. “Nor can I, Ellie. Nor can I.”

Ellie’s gaze was suddenly bright with hope. “Then ye do want me.”

He cursed himself. He wanted to lie. He should. But she already knew the truth. “Of course.” He bit it out. “Ye ken I do. But that doesna mean I should have ye. Or that ye should look to marry me. Despite whatever ye think yer Sight is showing ye—and ye ken well it can be wrong—I’m no’ the man ye need.”

“I think ye are.”

“Because yer visions told ye? Yer unpredictable talent? The same visions that failed to show ye the disaster yer men were headed into at Flodden?” Donal winced and clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked together. Gods, he never should have said that. What was he thinking?

Ellie jumped from her seat with a gasp. “How could ye?” She stalked to the hearth and stared into the flames. “I have wished every day, every night, since they decided to answer the King’s call that I could have warned them. Saved them.”

Donal shook his head, debating whether to go to her or stay where he was to give her a moment to collect herself. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldna said that. It was cruel. I ken ye would have done all ye could to save them.” Staying put won. She would not welcome his touch after he’d wounded her so callously.

She paced before the hearth for a few moments, then resumed her seat with a sigh. “It wouldna mattered. My father was so intent on earning a title from the Scottish king that he wouldha gone, even if he had believed in my talent. Which he refused to do.”

“Nay? How could he no’? We’ve seen the truth of it even in the short time we’ve been here.”

“And it makes ye uncomfortable, aye? ’Tis one of the reasons ye dinna wish to stay with me.”

“I...I sometimes wonder what it would be like. But ye ken my reasons. Ye must do better than me.”

“There is no one better.”

Donal poured two more fingers of whisky into his cup and took a sip, then set it aside and rested his head against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling. “I should leave MacKyrie,” he finally said. When he met her gaze, the stricken look on Ellie’s face was enough to make him recant. “But I canna. I vowed to help yer lads.”

“That’s all ye care about? Helping the lads?”

“That’s all I should care about. Training them up will keep them alive.”

“What about my life?”

“Ellie, taking ye, getting ye with child, will ruin yer chances to make a match of the kind a laird should make.”

“I had that, and look what good it did me. Nay, I dinna care what others think. I’ll choose this time.”

“Ye should care. Yer clan has many vulnerable years ahead of it. An alliance with a strong neighbor is what ye need most.”

“Then why did I sign the treaty Jamie carried?”

“To glean the assistance ye need the soonest, and give ye time to find the proper consort.”

“I have found him.” Ellie stood and moved to Donal’s seat, perching on the rolled arm of the chair.

Though he knew he shouldn’t touch her, Donal could not stop his hand from reaching for her, wrapping around her waist to steady her. But Ellie seemed to take that as permission and leaned in. Donal sucked in a quick breath in surprise as she kissed him. Ellie’s sweet fragrance and heat filled his senses. Gods, he wanted this woman.

He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, running his tongue across her lips to part them, then tasting the tip of hers inside her sweet mouth. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest while her tongue fought a duel with his. A duel he was happy to fight—win or lose. He reached between them to cup her fullness. His manhood stirred. “Ach, lass, ye’re driving me to do what we both ken is wrong.”

“No’ both of us,” Ellie breathed into his mouth, turning to press her breast more fully into his hand. “One of us kens the truth, even if the other is stubborn.”

That startled a chuckle from Donal, quickly suppressed as Ellie’s lips moved across his cheek. When her tongue started tracing the contours of his ear, the need in Donal’s loins burst into flame.

“Ye gods, woman. Where did ye learn to do that?”

Ellie murmured softly in his ear. “I told ye I am no innocent virgin. Did ye no’ believe me?”

Donal rocked his head against the back of the chair, once, twice, thrice, hoping to pound some sense into it before he made the next, irrevocable move. Then Ellie traced her fingers down his throat to the muscled contours of his chest between the lacings of his tunic. The warmth of her fingers sent heat sizzling to his groin and set his fingertips to circling her pebbled nipple. She wriggled in his arms until her hip rested against his shaft, now hardened to a level impossible to ignore, removed her hand from his shirt and trailed her fingers down his chest to his belly. There, she paused. His buttocks tightened as his cock strained up, craving the touch of her hand, the heat of her body.

Donal took hold of his desire with all the strength he could muster. He must not do this. When Jamie got back with help from the treaty clans, Ellie would find a consort among those men. He would not ruin her chance for happiness with a man who could give her everything he could not. Not like this.

With a groan of frustration, Donal picked Ellie up off his lap and put her on her feet, then rose and stepped away from her, putting the upholstered chair between them to hide the bulge of his throbbing erection from her sight. Her cheeks were red. The hard points of her nipples strained against the fabric of her dress. One traitorous hand reached for her, but he pulled it back and clenched his fist at his side.

“Nay, lass. I canna,” he ground out. “I’m no’ the man ye need. And Toran wouldna approve if I took advantage of ye without the promise of marriage, no matter how much I wish to.”

“Toran? Lathan? I dinna care what he thinks. Why do ye? What is between us—that is what’s important. What we want.”

“Nay, I’ll no’ risk yer future. Nor the treaty. Nor my laird’s displeasure for a dalliance that will hurt ye when I leave. I canna risk harming ye in any way. I respect ye too much for that.”

“Respect? Respect?” Ellie whirled away and turned her back, then spun back around with an oath. “Is that what ye’re doing? Respecting me?”

“That is what I intend, aye. To respect ye and yer clan by no’ sullying its laird.”

“What if I don’t want yer respect?”

“Lass, listen to yerself. Ye dinna mean that.”

“Nay, I dinna.” Ellie sighed. “Ye’re right. But I want more than yer respect, Donal. We want each other. We care for each other. My visions tell me we have a future together. What is wrong with that?”

“What if ye’re mistaken? It’s only wrong if we act on it. I’ll no’ leave ye with a child, nor with a reputation ruined so that no other man will have ye.”

“I dinna want ye to leave at all.”

“I ken it. But eventually, I must. Being a widow is honorable. What ye propose, well...”

“Oh! How dare ye.”

“How dare I no’, lass. One of us has to put a stop to this.” Donal moved to the door and opened it.

“We’re no’ done, Donal.”

“Aye, we are, Laird MacKyrie.” He stepped out into the hall and closed the door, shutting out the sight of Ellie, standing with one hand on the back of the chair he’d vacated, eyes brimming with tears.

Aye, that was well done, damn it. He’d made her cry. Again. Why couldn’t she see he was all wrong for her?

****

Ellie stumbled down the hallway toward her chambers, blinded by the darkness and her tears. Damn it! Who had taken the torches? If they had gone to fetch fresh ones, couldn’t they leave at least one burning while they did it? If they’d taken them earlier today and forgotten to return fresh ones to this hallway, she’d know the reason why. Couldn’t anyone do what she asked them to do? Nay, that wasn’t fair. She paused by one of the offending empty brackets and caught a breath. No sense blaming her people when they hadn’t caused her frustration and embarrassment.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she straightened, schooling her features into a calm mask, quickly wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks. She knew that tread. Micheil. Perhaps in the dark hallway, he could not see what she’d just done. A window at the end of the hall revealed the faint glimmer of starlight reflected off of snow. Little enough illumination.

“Ellie, what’s wrong?”

So much for hiding her emotions under the cover of darkness.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” But she lied. Her eyes welled again and heat filled her face. She knew a blotchy blush stained her cheeks.

Micheil stood close, looking at her, his brow wrinkled. “Ye dinna look fine. If I can see yer upset in this gloom, there’s something amiss.” He lifted a hand to the side of her face. His touch was almost too gentle to feel as he wiped away dampness with his thumb.

She’d always avoided letting their friendship go past the comfortable closeness they had attained years ago as children. They were long past sharing childish confidences. Yet, Micheil deserved her honesty. But she couldn’t say the words. The pain of Donal’s rejection was too fresh. Ellie bit her lip. How could she hurt Micheil scant minutes later? He cared for her, and she for him, but not in the same way, and not in the way she needed Donal.

“I saw ye go into yer solar with Donal MacNabb earlier,” Micheil told her. “Did he upset ye?” He waited a beat, then gripped her shoulder. “Did he assault ye? If he did, I’ll kill him for ye.”

“Nay, nay, Micheil, nothing like that. Oh gods, don’t even think it.” She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled his hand away. “Ye couldna win against him. And he did nothing, truly. I’ve only myself to blame. I presumed too much.”

“What do ye mean?”

Ellie took a breath to slow her racing heartbeat. She had to tell him. “I dinna ken how to say this, Micheil, so I’ll just say it straight out, the truth as we’ve always shared it between us. I want Donal MacNabb to stay with clan MacKyrie.”

“Aye, I ken that. His skills are greatly needed. He has proven that, even to me.”

“Nay, ye misunderstand me.” She shook her head. “I want him to...to...I want to marry him.”

Micheil didn’t say anything for a moment. Ellie opened her mouth to apologize, but he spoke before she could.

“Ye’ve chosen him as yer consort?”

“Aye, I have. But he has yet to accept the idea.”

“Ellie, ye must think on this. If he doesna wish to stay, ye have other choices. Ye ken I have always been yer friend. I care for ye.” He reached a hand out to her, but drew it back before he touched her, then crossed his arms over his chest. “But if ye dinna want me, and I ken ye dinna think of me that way, as much as it disappoints me, then the MacDuff is suitable.”