Highland Surrender (31 page)

She reached her arms up toward her head, granting him full privilege to stroke her body at his leisure. He groaned softly into her ear, and the pressure of his hand increased. He cupped her breast and ran a thumb across the tip until it tightened. Her breath hitched in her lungs, hot and thick. She’d never thought to know such indolent pleasure. Dewy with want for him, she pressed her buttocks back against his erection, longing to be closer, to be one.

Gentle as a whisper, he pressed her belly down upon the mattress and nudged her thighs apart with his own. Contentment spread throughout her limbs when his hand slid beneath them both and delved into the curls between her legs to tantalize that tiny bud. His fingers circled and teased, creating sensations so enticing a moan rose unbidden from her throat. And she sighed with gladness and relief when at last he sought the entrance to her femininity and sheathed his body deep inside of hers.

He rocked slowly, his chest upon her back, rolling like an endless wave caressing the shore until her own hips began to set a faster pace. Her breasts rubbed against the sheets, adding a delightful friction to the smoothness of his strokes. She pressed down upon his hand, bold in her desire.

And so they rode, until she thought she could not breathe from the pressure building inside, but with one final gasp, her
lungs burst free and she tumbled into white-hot bliss, and seconds later, Myles joined her. They lay spent and breathing hard, until at last he rolled onto his own back.

“I may never leave this bed.” His words came on a sigh.

“We will get hungry enough, eventually.” She lifted up onto her elbows and looked over at him. His hair was wild, his jaw covered in stubble. And yet he’d never looked more handsome. His face was wondrous to behold, all angles and shadow. His torso and arms were thick with muscles. Yes, he was impressive, this husband of hers. He turned to gaze at her and gave a smile hot enough to melt a frozen loch.

Her heart clenched inside her breast, and tender feelings, so foreign for their newness, threatened to overwhelm her. Her mother had died over such feelings of longing. Fiona would do well to try to keep her head about her. She was free now, to care for him a little. He was her husband, after all, but she’d not be so foolish as to give him her whole heart. Perhaps just a sliver.

“I am hungry, now that you mention it,” he said. “Shall we have breakfast and then go find you that horse? We could ride to Killean, or even Oban, but that would take a day or two.”

“You need not purchase a new horse for me, Myles. Just let me choose one from the stables.”

“If we have one you’ve set your fancy on, then fine. But I should enjoy a little sojourn with you. And you’ve not seen much of the countryside around here. Now that I think on it, a trip to Oban is a grand idea.”

Once her husband had made his decision, it seemed there was no stopping him, and the very next morning, she found herself upon a borrowed Campbell horse heading toward the Firth of Lorn and the town of Oban. Six Campbell men-at-arms who rode a ways ahead, keeping watch, accompanied them. Robert and Vivienne insisted upon joining them as well, and they made
a joyous foursome. It was a pleasant journey, with fair weather. The conversation as they traveled was robust and often bawdy, with Vivienne and Robert each determined to provide the most scandalous anecdote.

“At least King James’s new bride has a sense of humor,” Robert told them, taking a bite from an apple he pulled from his pocket. “She was wooed by Henry of England, you know. But when he offered for her, she refused. ’Tis rumored she said, ’I may be a big woman, but I have a very slender neck.’”

The others laughed, yet Fiona put a hand to her throat. “Did King Henry truly chop the head from his last wife?”

Robert nodded and took another bite of apple. “He did. But she plotted treason against him and deserved such an ending.”

“It’s so brutal.” A cloud dimmed the sunshine as if in agreement.

“Aye, it’s brutal. But treason must be dealt with harsh and swift. If allowed to fester, it can infect an entire country, and no king will risk that.”

“Marietta told me of Janet Douglas,” Vivienne interrupted. “What punishment will King James bring down on her, do you imagine?”

“Janet Douglas?” The question popped before Fiona could think to bite her tongue, for Janet Douglas was the distant cousin with whom she thought to ask for refuge when running from the Campbells.

Myles answered, “There is talk she conspired with her brother Archibald Douglas to poison King James. Have you heard anything of that?”

Fiona’s blood frosted, though she’d answer with the truth. “What could I possibly know? I have not seen her since I was a child.” And that was true enough, but had she managed her escape, she’d be with the woman now. Suddenly, she was glad to have failed in that mission.

Her answer seemed to satisfy her husband, and Robert answered Vivienne’s question.

“I cannot think he’ll tolerate her disobedience. She can hope for prison, but I think he means to set an example of her. It’s hard to say. She’s his aunt, though only by marriage.”

The talk moved to other, more pleasant things, but the day had turned gray for a moment, and Fiona could not shake the sense that something evil tapped upon her shoulder.

Oban was a modest town, set upon the shore and dotted with buildings of every shape and size. There were alehouses, milliners, blacksmiths, dry goods stores, and various other establishments, each with colorful signs hanging from their doorways. People milled about the streets, stopping by market booths to buy fish and dried beans and bolts of cloth. The smell off the firth blended with that of roasting meat and too many people.

“Darkness will soon fall,” Myles said. “Let’s get some food and find a place to rest our heads.”

“’Tis early yet. The town’s just waking up,” Robert protested.

Myles nodded. “Aye, but my wife is near asleep in the saddle. See?”

She was, at that. For the last hour, she had struggled to keep herself upright and maintain some understanding of the conversation. Only entering the village had rallied her strength once more.

“I am fatigued, I must confess.”

“Why so sleepy, miss?” Vivienne murmured so that only she might hear. “Good reason, I hope, and not the product of a lumpy mattress.”

Fiona felt her cheeks grow hot and glanced around to ensure no one might hear. Robert and Myles seemed in a conversation
over where to lodge, and the other men had scattered once they’d reached the edge of town.

She let her lips curl into a smile, her voice equally low as she answered, “The mattress was puffy as a cloud. But oh, what thunder and lightning.”

Vivienne’s laughter caught the attention of the men, and Myles’s lips twitched.

“Thank the heavens, Fiona,” Vivienne said, “I could not last another moment knowing you two were at odds. But given how your husband cannot keep his eyes off you, I fear you’re in for another sleepless night.”

Fiona would not mind so much, although she was powerfully hungry and just as tired.

Myles instructed his men-at-arms to find their own lodgings for the night, and then he arranged for three rooms at the largest inn for Robert, Vivienne, himself, and his wife.

“Tomorrow, we shall find you a fine horse, Fiona,” Myles said as they supped later over fragrant rabbit stew and crusty bread. They dined in the inn’s main room, along with Robert and Vivienne and a dozen others in Oban for one reason or another. The place was well-appointed, with cloths upon the tables and fresh rushes on the floor.

“There are two equally fine stables toward the north of town,” Robert added. “Though, for truly excellent horseflesh, you cannot beat the stables near Stirling.”

“I don’t care much for Stirling,” Vivienne said, dipping her bread into the gravy. “My dead husband had far too many mistresses in that hamlet.”

“I should not say as much, Vivienne, but I fear your husband had mistresses in every hamlet. He was more of a goat than a goat often is. I’m glad you’re rid of him,” Robert said.

“I suppose I am too. But I am in the mood for another husband.”

“To marry, or just to entertain?” Robert teased.

If Vivi was insulted, it did not show. “I think perhaps I should like one of my own. But a good one, this time. Less a goat and more of a lapdog. But fierce with a sword, of course. And he must be handsome.”

“You cast a small net with such a list of wants,” Myles said.

Vivienne nodded and took another bite of stew. “I know, but I’ve the luxury of beauty and riches. Until both are spent, I intend to wait for just such a man. And it is not so far-fetched an idea. Just think of our Fiona here. She was pledged to Myles on the day she was born. But for the grace of God and the king, she could be married to some fat, old drunkard now.”

Fiona felt her cheeks grow warm. The fates had indeed twisted oddly in her favor, for her husband was all the things a maiden could want. And in that moment, her fatigue waned as her wish to go to bed increased.

Myles stretched his limbs, his feet sliding out from the covers and draping over the edge of the short bed. The inn was clean enough, and the food palatable, but the beds were far too small for his big frame. All the more reason to press against his bride, he supposed.

Fiona sighed in her slumber. Two nights of vigorous lovemaking were bound to tire a lass, but she’d held her own against his lust and matched him kiss for kiss. He counted himself most fortunate. His wife was a beauty, and her temperament over the last two days had matched that. She had told him of the letters from her mother, and so it seemed the tide had turned. She no longer considered him an enemy. Far from it. Instead, she’d wrapped her velvet limbs
around him and whispered words of pleasure when he plunged into the warmth of her. His body quickened at the luscious memories.

The need to please her swelled his chest. He’d find her the finest horse this land had ever seen. If not here, then Stirling or Edinburgh. Christ, he’d go to London if that’s what it took. He’d pamper her and show her all the joys of being a Campbell bride.

At last, she woke, and though his cock stirred, for once he ignored the thing and told her to get dressed. The morning was waning away, and they had business—other business—to conduct. They made their way downstairs, to find Vivienne and Robert already there. Bits of bread and cheese left upon a plate between them gave evidence of their breakfast.

Robert shook his head and stretched within the chair when he spotted them. “It’s about time you left your burrow, you busy rabbits. I thought to order another ale if you did not appear soon.”

Myles thought to scold him for being crude in front of Fiona, but she laughed and answered, “Rabbits are dreadfully fast, Robert. Is that how you think it’s meant to be?”

Ah, yes, she was turning into a fine wife, indeed.

Myles and Fiona breakfasted with haste, and then the four of them ventured out into the streets of Oban. They strolled at a leisurely pace, the ladies with their heads together, giggling and pointing out items to each other as they passed each market booth. Myles lagged behind, with Robert at his side.

“You are happy this morning,” Robert said.

“What’s not to be happy about?”

“Indeed.” They walked along in silence, but in another moment, Robert said, “That was a powerful reaction yesterday, when your wife heard of Janet Douglas.”

His tone was casual, yet Myles caught his meaning.

“I believe they are cousins from some generation past. Lady Douglas was born a Fraser, long a Sinclair ally. ’Tis only natural Fiona would be alarmed.”

Robert spit into the dirt as they kept walking, and said no more. But Myles knew his brother well enough.

“Speak your mind, Robert,” Myles prompted after they’d walked a few more yards and let the ladies get farther ahead.

Robert frowned and tilted his chin. “There is nothing on my mind, Myles, save bawdy songs and loose women.”

Myles stopped in his spot. His brother did as well.

“My wife has nothing whatsoever to do with Janet Douglas.”

“I did not say she did.”

“You implied it.”

Robert shook his head and scoffed. “Honestly, brother, forgive me. I’ve spent too many days of late dallying over royal intrigues. It makes me suspect hidden purpose where none exists. Think nothing of what I said.” He began to walk again, whistling merrily.

Myles thought to prod him for more, but what would be the point? His brother was foolhardy if he thought Fiona had knowledge of any such nefarious business. Robert had indeed spent too much time at court if he could even ponder such a thing.

Arriving at the stable, Fiona’s heart took a skip and a leap. So many fine horses, some regal and tall, while others were dainty and sweet. They passed down the row of stalls, admiring each horse, stroking a velvety nose now and again. But at the end of one row, she found a soft, gray mare, so much like her Gwynlyn Fiona knew at once she must have her.

The horse stood fifteen hands high, the perfect size, with white stockings and a blaze. Fiona leaned against her neck,
murmuring soft words, while Myles ran a hand down the mare’s rump and patted her flanks. This was not the horse of Fiona’s childhood, of course, but still she possessed an endearing disposition. She butted Fiona on the shoulder, looking for a treat.

“Do you like this one?” her husband asked.

Fiona nodded, blinking back a ridiculous tear. Of all the things she’d had to cry over in her life, especially these last few weeks, she should not get weepy over finding an average little mare. But something sang inside her when she looked into those limpid brown eyes. And if she was to have a horse, this must be the one.

Myles waved to the groom. “We’ll take this one into the paddock. I’d like to see her gait.”

The groom was tall, lanky as a pelican, with a beaklike nose to match. “Yes, m’lord. But this one’s spoken for.”

Fiona’s heart squeezed.

“Spoken for?” her husband asked.

“Aye, m’lord. A gentleman who come by yesterday took a shine to this one and half a dozen others. Told me he’d be back in a day or so to make his payment.”