Laird of Ballanclaire (15 page)

“Well?”

“Bandaging cloth?” She wasn’t following his words. There was something vibrating through the loft that felt a lot more urgent. More visceral. More vibrant. Heated and immense. Ground-trembling. Breath-stealing. It felt as though even the air was weighted, making it difficult to breathe.

“Everything has to be repeated to you. And then it has to be explained, and even then you fail to ken. This is bandaging cloth. I need more of it.”

He threw it at her. Constant dodged sideways and then turned to watch it sail to the barn floor.

“That is a length of cheesecloth. I stole it from the dairy shed. I’ve yet to see any of it washed and replaced. I guess I’ll worry about it once you’re gone.”

“You in such a hurry to see me go, are you?”

“I wasn’t before.”

“I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard all eve . . . so
do
you?”

Constant went to her knees as she looked at him. She still didn’t know what was wrong with him, but the entire strange aura in the loft seemed to be emanating from him. Directly toward her. The hair on the nape of her neck stood up.

“Do I . . . what?” she whispered.

Kameron closed his eyes, shuddered, and then reopened them. Constant watched as he slid his glance down to her waist and back. And she could’ve sworn he paled.

“Do you have any more cheesecloth?” he asked, his lips in a snarl that revealed clenched teeth.

She shook her head.

“Can you get some?”

“There isn’t any more to get. I have to wash it. Didn’t I just say as much?”

“Give me your slip then. I have to stay the bleeding. I canna’ wrap it until I stop that.”

Constant glanced down. “I’m not wearing one,” she replied to her lap.

“Oh Lord . . . doona’ say so! Doona’ even mention it. Doona’ remark on it. Doona’ say another blasted, God-damned thing. Damn you, Constant! Give me your pantaloons, then. Damn you for making this harder than it already is.”

Constant looked up at him. He was still sitting up, but he had both arms about his thighs now, trying to keep his lower legs from contact with anything. Since that position stiffened every bit of him, and every bit of him was exposed to her, she reacted. Her mouth opened, her breath came in little pants, her breasts seemed to enlarge, chafing against the confinement of her bodice, and her eyes roamed over every inch of his body before returning to his face.

“I’m not wearing any of those, either,” she whispered.

His eyes went wide and he choked. Constant would have approached, if he hadn’t stopped her with a growl.

“Good God, Constant! You vixen! You fool! You ken how much I crave—you little—how can you do this? You ken what you do to me! I
told
you as much last night. Ah . . . Jesu’.”

“I have my apron. And . . . if that isn’t enough, you can have my . . . chemise. Here.”

“Doona’ offer, Constant . . . please?”

She held out her apron, and when he didn’t move, she tossed it to the straw beside him. Then she reached behind her for the knife.

He didn’t say anything as she crawled to him. It sounded as though he was coming up for air each time he sucked in a breath, and then he was exhaling strongly enough to blow out several candles at once. Her hands shook as she spread the apron beneath his legs. He didn’t move. He didn’t react. She didn’t know what to do save what he’d requested. Cut his legs apart.

She put the knife blade under the ropes at his ankles and sawed.

She had to guess how much it pained him as the first rope gave. He hadn’t been able to move either leg for five days now. The swollen one shifted a bit from the other, and at that Kam swiveled, going down onto his side with his back to her.

That was troubling for Constant. He hadn’t much covering on the front of him. He had even less on the back. She looked at the honey-herb encrusted bandaging still stuck to reddish striping all about his back, and then down to where the ridges of his spine flowed into the tops of his buttocks. She put her fingers out to trace the path her eyes had just followed, but his words stopped her.

“Constant?”

He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded like a wounded animal. She lifted her hand.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Cut the next one now. Doona’ let me know. Just cut it.”

“All right.”

She scooted down and gently pried the cut rope from around his ankle. The purplish leg was black where the binding had been. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. She started sawing on the next rope.

“Constant?” He whispered again.

“Yes?”

“Why did . . . you kiss him?”

The cutting stopped. She lifted the knife away and watched it tremble in her hand. She waited for a few moments before answering, but her voice shook anyway.

“I wanted to see how it compared.”

“Compared?”

“To one of yours,” she told him and held her breath.

“Curiosity? That’s what you’re telling me I witnessed?”

“I had to see if it would feel the same.”

“You were just seeing if it felt the same,” he mimicked, not sounding the least bit hurt. He sounded judgmental and harsh. “And I suppose you kept kissing him for the same reason?”

Constant hacked away at the rope, letting her anger move the blade, and when it sliced open, he groaned before rolling farther onto his stomach.

“I didn’t kiss him more than once, Kameron.”

The words were little more than a whisper. She didn’t know how she got her throat to work. Regardless of how cold and rude he was, she loved him, and he was still injured. His leg had to be extremely painful. The extent of the damage was even more visible when compared to his good leg.

“What are you waiting for? Get another one off. I canna’ leave this godforsaken loft until I can move, and you sit and tarry. Get your skean busy and saw.”

“But . . . your leg, Kameron. I don’t know what to do. If we don’t get you to a doctor, any doctor, you might lose—”

“I saw his hands all over you, Constant. That was more than a kiss from your little beau. That was full-out seduction . . . by mouth,” he said, interrupting her.

Constant looked down at the next rope and tucked the blade under it. His words were offensive and said with an ugly tone. And then she realized what he was up to: he was trying his argument ploy again, to take his mind off the pain. He was good at it, too. She studied his legs. At least the blisters weren’t bleeding. They were weeping a bit of liquid, though. That was his fault. He’d yanked off the honey-encrusted cloth. He should have waited for her to help.

“It was just a little kiss, Kameron.” Constant started sawing as gently as possible at the next rope.

“Oh.
Please
. Doona’ take me for a blind fool. If I’m na’ mistaken, you have bruising everywhere he touched. That was nae mere kiss.”

“I think I know what’s wrong with you.”

“Good for you. So do I. And it is na’ pleasant.”

Constant frowned. “I’m being as gentle as I can, Kameron.”

“I don’t want your gentle touch . . . except maybe in one—God
damn
you, Constant Ridgely! Just saw with the bloody knife and help me get these ropes off.”

“What did I do wrong now?”

“I’m tired of your naïve posturing. It’s wearing thin. I want you to ken that. Anyone who launches herself at a man like you did that young pup doesn’t need instruction or explanation of her charms. She needs a swift spanking. That’s what she needs.”

Constant drew back. “A spanking? Whatever for? He asked me to wed with him. How was I to know if we’d suit or not? Surely that sort of decision deserves at least one kiss. How would I have known to decline otherwise?”

“That was a declination? God help the poor ass you do accept. He’ll need sustenance to survive the betrothal party after being subjected to you.”

Constant attacked the next rope with a vengeance. She had it sawn clear through and pulled from between his legs without a bit of compassion. She slid it roughly against his skin without a twinge of conscience.

“I want you to know I do not appreciate what you say, Kameron. I don’t. I think you’re calling the kettle black. And it isn’t fair. You told me not to accept him unless he made me feel akin to how you do. So, I did that. I checked. And I wasn’t the least bit passionate about it, either.”

“You’re a born . . . seductress. You ooze passion . . . with every breath coming from your body. I only wish . . . it was working.”

“With what?” she asked icily.

“Taking my mind off this God-damned, bloody pain.”

He choked through what could only be a sob, and Constant was instantly at his side, bending over him.

“Kameron?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. He just shook his head while his entire frame jerked. Constant watched him for a moment, wondering how she could have missed something so innately raw and obvious. She reached for his head and turned him. He didn’t stop her. His face was scrunched into lines of agony, and there were tears streaking down both cheeks.

“Oh, Kameron. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I’m a strictly reared, stubborn, bloodless Highlander, that’s why. We never admit pain. Or injury. Or hurt. We embrace it. So, why doona’ you cease pitying me and finish with the ropes? I already told you, I canna’ leave your loft without the use of at least one leg. Perhaps you could keep up your end of the argument and assist me with it rather than stare at me like I’m a lost yearling pup. Unless you have a better idea?”

Constant sat back and studied him. Then she reached behind her back and started unbuttoning her dress.

“Oh no! Na’ that. Nae, Constant, please. Na’ that. God, nae. Nae. Anything but that. Anything. You can just stop. I forbid it.”

As Kameron talked, Constant kept unfastening hooks. Then she sat on the floor to pull her boots off. She kept the thigh-high stockings in place. She’d worn them because they were the match to her chemise and had lacy tops with large bows. They made her legs look long and shapely. The boots were no loss. They’d ruin the image she wanted to project.

She stood.

“Nae, Constant. Please. I canna’ let you do this. I will na’ allow—doona’ you dare take that off! Doona’ even think of it! I forbid it. Doona’ so much as think of—”

His voice continued as she turned her back to him in order to peel the dress off her shoulders. She knew she was blushing. She knew what she was doing was inconceivable. She was still doing it. She’d pretend. It was akin to a daydream. It was a delicious dream, too. One she’d treasure forever. She dropped the dress to her ankles and stepped out of it.

There wasn’t much to her chemise, although it was woven with strands of flax linen. It barely covered her buttocks. She was very proud of the weave; she’d done it herself last year. Candlewicking embroidery made a large butterfly between her breasts to support and cup them. It was her design. Constant pushed her hair off her shoulders and swiveled around.

Kameron’s words stopped. His mouth dropped open. That was gratifying. Almost as much as the wide, round, golden-brown of his eyes in his tear-streaked face. She could see every bit of the amber color. She was definitely shocking him into thinking about something else.

“Well?” she asked.

“Oh . . . dearest God,” he whispered.

“Are you thinking of something else now?”

He gulped. She watched his throat make the motion.

“I hope so, because we’ve got some more ropes to carve away, and I’ve got your trousers to finish fitting. I wasn’t certain of the size. I’m probably close, though.”

“My . . . trousers?” he repeated.

His eyes were still huge, watching her without once blinking. Constant took a step toward him and watched him tremble.

“I’ve fashioned trousers for you from my homespun. They’re crudely cut and sewn worse, but they’ll cover you. When I’m finished with you, that is.”

He choked on whatever the reply was. Constant hovered above him, allowing him a very good view up her legs. She could tell he was looking, for there was a flush starting from his neck and going over his shoulders as she watched him. Then she sank, as gracefully as she could, to her knees beside him.

“Where on earth . . . did you procure this outfit?” he asked.

“From my hope chest.”

“Your hope chest? What on earth were you hoping for?”

“A large, handsome, strong, golden-eyed Adonis of a man to fall into my life. What else?” She shrugged, lifting the material along her breasts, where the nipples hardened almost instantly.

Kameron saw it, too. She watched as his eyes moved there and stayed. Constant took a deep breath, pushing her breasts more fully against the material, and watched him twitch. Then, ever so slowly, she bent toward him, angling her arms together to further emphasize her cleavage. She knew she had an ample bosom. Charity had been making snide remarks about it since Constant had grown breasts. She thought she knew now why they were as large as they were. It was for this. Kameron.

She watched him as he watched her, and couldn’t believe how amazingly wanton and luscious it all felt.

She put a hand beneath his chin to lift his jaw. Her pulse beat loud and fast in her ears. Eons of time hung suspended. Glow and warmth imbued everything. And then she moved in ever so slowly to match her lips to his. The moment she kissed him, a moan resonated through the loft, and it came from both of them.

Constant pulled away first, settled back onto her knees, put her hands on her thighs, and regarded him, waiting for her heartbeat to calm enough she’d be able to hear over it. Kameron was probably in shock. Or something. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t blinking. He didn’t even appear to be breathing.

“I told you there was no comparison, Kameron, and there still isn’t. That was what I was finding out.”

“I canna’ allow this to continue.”

He might be speaking of denial, but he’d dropped his eyes, speaking the words to her breasts, and then licked his lips, causing her to smile. Constant lifted her shoulders in a shrug and watched him stare where her bosom pushed against the material.

“That would be a shame, I think.”

“You doona’ ken what you’re doing, Constant.”

“Not this time, Kameron. I know exactly what I’m doing. I think it’s you who is in need of instruction.”

“Oh nae. I am na’ going to tup—nae. I canna’. You doona’ understand. I refuse. It would be a sacrilege . . . of the highest order. You—you’re my angel. The woman who sheltered me. I’m na’ so much a beast as to repay that with ravishment. I canna’!”

“I’m not an angel, Kameron. I’m a woman. And right now, I’m a woman . . . in need.”

He groaned. Constant leaned forward, bringing her bosom close to his face. He was right. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing, but she was following something beyond experience and training. Something primitive and basic, and completely immersing.

“I’m na’ an honorable man, Constant. I should na’ be allowed anywhere near a young, impressionable maid. I’m a fornicator. I get drunk on occasion. And I’m a thief, for pity’s sake.”

“A thief, too?”

She clucked her tongue and slid her left breast, ever so slightly, along his cheek. He shuddered in response. Whispers of gooseflesh slid all along her limbs.

“What were . . . you stealing?”

Constant managed to ask it, although she lost her voice midway. She’d never felt like she did right now. Excitement seemed to spring from the peaks of her flesh and shoot all the way through her.

“Secrets,” he answered.

“Not hearts?”

She felt every one of his tremors, and it was making her body sing with anticipation and energy. She felt as though she could do all her daily chores in less than an hour.

“I’m trying to do the noble thing here, Constant. This is na’ helping. Pray doona’ add to the list of sins I need atone for. Please?” He choked out the words. His body was immobile. Taut. Statue-stiff and unmoving, even as she neared his mouth with a nipple.

“But, what of me?”

“What . . . about you?”

“Everything you’ve said is about you. Your sins. Your atonement. Your thwarted needs and desires. And nothing about me. I’m not doing this for you, Kameron. I want you. I need you. If it’s all I have in my future, then so be it. And you’re not in charge at the moment,” she finished before her voice gave out. “I am.”

He gave an incendiary growl, and then her nipple was in his mouth, still covered by her chemise, shocking her to the core. Constant grabbed his shoulders and did her best to keep from screaming. Kameron rolled her nipple in his mouth and then sucked, gifting her with rivers of ecstatic pleasure.

Then he pushed her away a fraction in order to blow air atop the moistened peak. She moaned, then moved to hold his head, clamping her palms to his ears, filling her fingers with his luxurious long hair.

Then Kameron was feasting on her other breast. Constant writhed. She reeled in place. She cooed. And then she crooned as reality faded away. She wasn’t in a loft. There wasn’t a bed of straw beneath her. There was just Kameron. And what he was doing to her. She might be floating. She could even be flying.

Kameron moved then, pressing her onto her back atop the hay beside him, where he sent breath after huffing breath into the valley between her breasts.

“Constant Ridegly, you are a viciously desirable creature. I suspected it when I got my first look at you, and now I ken it for certain. You’ve tapped every reserve I can claim. But I still . . . will na’ compromise you. I canna’. It goes against everything I hold sacred. I’ve sins I doona’ even remember to repent. I will na’ add tupping you to them. Please? I’m begging here.”

Constant lifted her head and brought him into focus. “You mean there’s more?” she asked in surprise.

Kameron’s laughter made both breasts quake with it. Constant had to hold to their sides to keep them from jouncing.

“What did I say?” she asked.

“Oh, love, there’s mountains more. Oceans. Continents. The heavens and the stars. I only wish I was the man who gets to deliver them to you.”

“But . . . you have to be the man, Kameron. I couldn’t let any other man near me. Surely you know that.”

He sobered and lifted his face from where he’d been pillowed. There wasn’t anything carefree about the look he gave her. Lines etched his forehead, and there were shadowed areas about his eyes.

“I canna’ take your maidenhead, Constant. Na’ tonight. Na’ ever. It belongs to the man you will wed, whoever that might be. It will na’ be me. I canna’ offer you a future. I never could.”

“Did I ever ask for one from you?” Her reply was a bit breathless but crisply delivered despite how everything that was good and virtuous inside her got stood on end from his statement. She hoped she hid it well enough.

“What is it you do want, then?” he asked.

She forced herself to continue with the same tone and inflection. “I was taking your mind off your pain. What else?”

His groan came from the depths of him. She felt it. Perfect golden-brown eyes bored into hers and Constant watched as they seemed to fill with black.

“You are severely testing my resolve, Constant. I want you to ken this. I thought I was impossible to break. I doona’ cave in to force. I have the scars to prove it. But this is beginning to feel worse than a torturer’s embrace. I’m known as a heartbreaker, a man who can love a woman and leave her without a backward glance. I will na’ do so with you. I will na’.”

“And that means?” she asked.

He chuckled, blowing air across her again, and he watched her nipples tighten. His face twisted. “It means I’ve had about as much of this as I can stand. You are going to have to move. Now.”

“But you’re atop me,” she replied.

“And you’re about to find out what being beneath me means. Out before that happens. Now.”

He started to lift himself with his arms, just like always, but his sudden intake of breath, and the way he collapsed, told her something was wrong. As did his groan.

“Kameron?”

He was puffing the air from between his lips, his eyes squinting.

“What?”

“Are you in such pain?”

“Nae,” he replied.

“You are going to have to work on your lying.”

His eyebrows rose at that and he opened an eye. “You’re teasing with me. I happen to be a perfect liar. Always was. Always will be. It’s one of the myriad of sins I’ll be repenting.”

“Are you ready to cut through another of your bonds, then?”

His other eye opened. “You are na’ to move for a bit, Constant. Just . . . doona’ move. Fair?”

“But why?”

“Because there are some parts of a man that just will na’ listen to his intentions, good or otherwise. Doona’ move. I forbid it.”

She wriggled slightly and felt him tense.

“Constant, I’m warning you—”

“About what this time?”

“I think you have sadistic tendencies, Constant, my love. And here I thought you the most compassionate woman birthed.”

“And I think you think too much. Roll off me and let me proceed.”

“I canna’
roll
. I can barely continue breathing.”

Her eyes widened. “Your ribs. I clean forgot. Does it pain terribly?”

“Hell, yes. I mean nae. Oh Jesu’. Just get out.”

He shoved himself up and off her with a wrenching motion. He grunted as he came in contact with the hay-covered loft floor. Constant turned to her side to face him and supported her head on her upraised arm.

“If you’re not in pain, do you wish me to continue?” she asked when he wouldn’t look at her.

“What? Nae. Yes. Go away.”

“Go away? But I have to help you.”

His reply came between clenched teeth. “Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to finish. Pick up your skean and cut me free.”

“Do you want to support your leg with the splint before I release it?”

“Nae,” he answered quickly.

“It will hurt more if you don’t.”

“Right at the moment, I doona’ care. I’m looking for pain. I need an entire existence filled with it.”

“I don’t understand you at all.” Constant moved into a sitting position, crossing her legs before her. “You asked me to take your mind off pain. And now you want it back?”

“Well, you certainly managed that. My mind is definitely on other things.”

“Really? Like what?”

Another groan, and then he turned his head toward her. She watched as he ran his eyes from her head to the shadowed area below her chemise and then moved back to her breasts. He shuddered. He gulped. Then he closed his eyes and took a huge breath. This time when he opened them again, his eyes were glassy and without expression.

Constant stared.

“Things such as that truly bountiful bosom of yours. However did you keep it hidden from me for so long? I usually ferret out such things quicker. I must be losing my touch.”

She barely kept from crossing her arms about herself at his words and his tone. He made it sound ugly and sordid. “It wasn’t something I wanted noticed,” she answered.

“Classic mistake, Constant, my love. Any man looking at what I am would give you anything you desire.”

“What if I . . . desire you?”

His eyes widened a fraction and the opaque sheen slipped. Then it was back so quickly that if she’d blinked, she’d have missed it.

“A child’s wants can be confused for many things, Constant, my love.”