Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (15 page)

Jamie straightened and glanced toward her father. “How is he?”

“Asleep. He was restless earlier. He seemed to be dreaming about being trapped under the horse, but he settled down when I spoke to him.”

“That’s good, then. How are ye?”

She shook her head and gazed at her father. “I’ve been better. But I dinna dare leave him alone in a strange keep in his condition.”

“That’s a wise precaution, lass. I hesitate to mention this, but after giving it some thought, I think ye need to ken something. It seemed to me, MacGregor enjoyed seeing yer da hurt.”

Caitrin gasped and glanced toward her father. He slept on.

“Is that why ye have been against the match?” Jamie took her hand. “Or does yer reaction mean ye are surprised because ye havena seen any sign of cruelty in him?”

She shook her head. “Ye’re scaring me, Jamie.”

“I dinna mean to, only to make ye cautious. From now on, if ye need to leave yer father, I’ll have one of my men stand vigil. Come,” he said, tugging her to her feet. “I’ll escort ye back to yer chamber so ye can get some rest. Ye must be fashed.”

“What if ye canna find yer men? They could be anywhere in this great keep.”

“Then I’ll return and sit with him myself. Will that do?”

Conscious of the aches in her back, neck, shoulders, and head brought on by hours of tension and worry, Caitrin consented. “It will. I dinna ken why Alasdair would behave that way, either, but…thank ye, Jamie. Ye are a good friend to us.”

Jamie merely nodded, and she wondered if he had trouble deciding how to respond. Now that she thought about it, calling him “friend” did seem rather distancing. She wished she could take it back. Though it was true. It must be, or he would have found an excuse to return to the Aerie and would have left her to her father’s ambitions. But what could she have said to him, she wondered, as they made their way from Fletcher’s sickroom. That she valued his friendship and always had? That she wanted him to be more, if he wanted her? Ach, stop this. Such thoughts would do neither of them any good.

They found Jamie’s men in the great hall. He assigned them to watch over her father, relieving her mind. Each man would take several hours through the night and early morning. Unless her father awoke and called for her, she could sleep undisturbed and unworried.

With that decided, Caitrin found her fatigue deepening. She leaned on Jamie’s arm as he led her down the shadowy hall to her chamber. Candles flickered in sconces only at the turn onto the hall, and at the far end. The door to her chamber loomed in near-darkness. They stopped before it.

“Go to yer rest. We’ll keep yer da safe.”

Jamie’s hand gave her warm comfort in the small of her back as he turned her to the door. Caitrin kept turning, right into his arms. She craved the comfort of his touch, so she put her arms around his waist, hugging him close. When he didn’t respond, she feared he would set her from him rather than accept her embrace. Then his arms encircled her and his cheek ruffled her hair.

“’Twill be all right, lass.”

Her tears started then, her eyes welling, warm tracks running down her face. How had she gotten into this mess? She needed the comfort of Jamie’s arms around her, his scent in her nose, the steady beat of his great heart against her ear. She couldn’t imagine asking this of Alasdair MacGregor. She didn’t think his hand would be as large and warm as Jamie’s. Or that he’d have the patience to stroke her back from her waist to the nape of her neck and back again, calming her. Would his heat envelope and soothe her? Would his scent please her like Jamie’s? Nay, she didn’t think they would.

She turned her face up, and her heart lifted when he dipped his head to kiss her.
More.
She wanted more. She shifted just enough to wrap her hands behind his head, pulling him closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Aye, this is what she needed.

Jamie broke off the kiss to whisper in her ear. “Ach, Caitrin, ye’re heaven in my arms.”

She rose onto her toes and found his mouth again with her lips. She inhaled his scent and absorbed his taste while she kissed his lips, his face, his throat. His low groan set her blood on fire. He pulled her body tight against his, the evidence of his arousal impossible to ignore, as he plundered her mouth. One hand held her fast against him, the other traced up her side to the curve of her breast then back to her hip.

“We canna stay here,” Caitrin whispered. If MacGregor or his men found them, the confrontation wouldn’t go well for either of them, or for her father. But she couldn’t let Jamie go, not while he kissed her with such abandon.

At her words, he lifted his mouth and she felt his muscles harden to steel beneath her fingertips. “Dinna stop,” she pleaded, reaching behind her to unlatch her door.

As it swung open, he took a step back. “This is madness, lass,” he whispered, though he didn’t release her, merely put some space between their bodies.

Again, she stepped fully into his embrace. “Come in, Jamie. I dinna wish to be alone. No’ yet. Please stay with me a while. Hold me.”

“Ye ken I canna do that.” He gripped her shoulders and set her back from him.

His heavy breathing reassured her he wanted to do as she asked, despite what he said, and what he did. “None need ken ye’re here.” She reached up and laid a hand over his.

“I’ll ken it.” His jaw tightened. “How will I face yer da? He gave ye into my care while he canna care for ye himself.”

Her breath caught as she sensed him drawing away. “So care for me, Jamie. I need ye to hold me a while longer.”

“Ye ken as well as I do, if we close that door behind us now, we willna stop with kisses. Nay, lass.” The cords in his neck strained with tension. “I promised yer da. And ye are promised to Alasdair MacGregor, or nearly so. I willna do this under his very roof.”

“I am no’ yet promised…”

Jamie’s lips pursed.

She tried a different tack. “But ye will under the stars?” Caitrin felt sure, confident at last, of what she wanted. She wanted Jamie Lathan. “Then let us climb the tower and find the stars.”

“Or wait until yer da can travel and find another roof, aye? Much must happen before we can leave. Ye must be sure of yer decision, no’ swayed by what yer body wants at this moment. And ye must convince yer da.” He held up a hand to forestall her objection. “Ye ken I am right. Ye are exhausted and no’ thinking straight or ye’d see the sense of it.” He gave her a gentle nudge through the door.

She allowed it, cupping his face with one hand as she stepped away.

He pulled her back into his arms for a quick kiss he followed with a sigh. “Rest well, Caitrin. Dream of me.”

****

Caitrin entered her father’s sickroom the next morning to find Alasdair MacGregor already there. Dismayed, she moved protectively to her father’s side.

“I’ve just arrived,” Alasdair told her as Fletcher attempted to sit up.

“Here, Da.” Caitrin added pillows behind his back to support him. “Can I get ye anything?”

“Nay, daughter. Let me be.” He waved her off and turned his attention to his visitor. Caitrin took a seat across the room, away from the two men, but where she could observe them. Should she go get Jamie or one of his men? She had no illusions she could intervene if things got tense; but she might be able to get help if such were needed to protect her father. How would MacGregor treat her father, after leaving him to chase after a boar?

“I’m glad to see ye looking so well,” MacGregor told him.

Caitrin studied MacGregor carefully and detected no sign of a threat in his posture or his voice. She allowed her muscles to loosen and took a breath.

“I regret ye were harmed at all. If there’s aught I can do to speed yer recovery, ye have only to say it.”

She bit her tongue, tense all over again as the faint buzz of tiny bees ran across her skin. The sensation was not very strong from across the room, but MacGregor lied. She just didn’t know about what. His offer of help? His regret over her father’s injuries? If only she knew what he was doing here. Had he come to gloat, or to wallow in regret that the boar or the horse hadn’t finished her father?

“I thank ye,” Fletcher told him. “But I’m being well cared for by yer healer and my daughter. Dinna trouble yerself on my account.”

MacGregor executed a brief bow. “Ye have only to ask. Any of my people can get word to me, as can yer lovely daughter, if ye have need of any succor, or of my presence.”

Caitrin schooled her features to impassivity as her father’s glance cut to her when MacGregor mentioned her.

“I wish only for ye to continue to respect my wishes concerning my daughter,” Fletcher told him, “and to ensure her continued safety within yer keep.”

“That goes without saying, Fletcher,” MacGregor replied gruffly, as if he took insult from Fletcher’s insinuation that without his oversight, Caitrin would be in danger inside his walls.

She sensed the lie the moment he spoke. They were in danger. Or she was. Oh, Jamie, please get us out of here, she implored silently, remembering his admonition of the previous night to take her time and make her decisions with a cool head. And to convince her father. But something was off about Alasdair MacGregor. The more time she spent around him, the more apparent it became to her. And time might be one thing they didn’t have.

“Thank ye, then,” Fletcher responded, only a little mollified, given the color climbing his neck. Did he realize he’d just disparaged his host?

Caitrin wanted to invite the MacGregor to leave before her father became agitated, but she dared not speak. It was not her place to interrupt a discussion between two lairds, even if the conversation centered on her.

“I’ll no’ disturb yer rest further,” MacGregor stated.

Caitrin breathed a sigh of relief.

But then he held a hand out. “Caitrin, if ye will leave yer da for a moment and come with me? I wish to speak to ye alone.”

Her pulse kicked up. She had learned at her father’s knee to recognize an order, even when couched as a polite request. She glanced at her father, who nodded, then, with reluctance, she rose and took MacGregor’s arm.

They didn’t go far, just a few paces down the hall. Barely out of earshot, she imagined, of her father’s sickbed. She let go of his arm as soon as they stopped.

“I’m well acquainted with the ways of men, being one myself,” MacGregor began with a self-deprecating chuckle. “We put a brave face on everything. So ye must tell me if yer father is truly recovering.”

Was he sincere? Being certain would require touching him, which she despaired to do, but she sensed nothing without that. “He is, my laird, thank ye.”

“Alasdair. And ye must tell me if ye require anything for yerself or for him. Especially for yerself, aye?”

He tucked a finger under her chin and forced her gaze to meet his before he released her. A chill ran down her back. Alone with him, she was vulnerable. Too vulnerable. And who would come to her aid if she screamed? Her da—in his condition? Or Alasdair’s men?

“Ye made a lovely nursemaid just now. So caring and concerned. I look forward to having those feelings directed to me. We must become better acquainted while we wait for yer father to become fit for travel.”

Fit for travel? Did Alasdair intend to send him away? Or, she thought as hope blossomed, perhaps he meant to dismiss all of them, after refusing to sign the betrothal contract.

“Alasdair.” She attempted to step away, but he lifted her chin again, then increased the pressure, holding her in place. She racked her brain for anything she could say that would deflect MacGregor. “As long as my father continues to improve, I have all I need.”

“Dinna play coy, lass. There’s a loving heart inside ye. I wish to ken what kind of wife ye will make me. How loving can ye be?”

Cold chills turned to heat, rising from the column of her throat to her face. She was sure she colored. “Ye canna mean…”

“I can, if ye are willing. But I will leave that decision to ye for now. Ye willna be going anywhere for days yet. There’s time enough to get better acquainted.” Without warning, he bent down and, still holding her chin, kissed her fully on the mouth. At her gasp of surprise, he deepened the kiss and pulled her against him with his other arm.

Caitrin tried to turn her head, to push away from him, but he held her too tightly as his tongue plundered her mouth. “Ach,” he murmured as he moved to nibbling and licking her ear, and she continued to try to evade him. “I like a lass with some fight in her. We shall do well together.”

“Nay!” He liked a lass with some fight in her? Why had he told her da he wanted an obedient and meek wife? Caitrin’s skin pebbled with goosebumps, not from pleasure, but from disgust at having Alasdair’s hands and mouth on her. This…this was nothing like Jamie’s kiss had been. Nothing like his touch. “Ye canna do this.” She needed to escape, but Alasdair held her trapped between the wall at her back and his demanding mouth.

“Can I no’? I can do this and much more.” As proof, he released her chin and ran that hand down the front of her dress to cup one breast. “All of this will be mine, sooner or later. Why no’ sooner? Think of the passion we can share.” He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “I shall enjoy the grand battle for yer virtue.”

At Caitrin’s gasp, his eyebrows lifted.

“Yer da assured me ye were a virtuous lass. Ye dinna mean to tell me ye have given yerself to another?”

What would he do if she told him aye? Send them home? Or take her where they stood in the hallway, assuming she was used goods, available for his pleasure? Nay, she could not bear that. She shook her head. “Never…”

“Alasdair.”

“Never. Alasdair.” She put as much sincerity into her voice as she could muster, given her dismay that he still gripped her breast with one hand and her bottom with the other. Where was Jamie? But nay, Jamie would fight for her, and MacGregor might kill him. She could not bear to be the cause of that. “I am chaste. Ye mustna…”

Alasdair released her then, but Caitrin didn’t dare breathe.

“Very well. I’ll see the proof soon enough, in the blood on yer sweet thighs. Get ye back to yer da. There’s a good lass. We’ll continue this later.”