Let Me Be Your Hero (5 page)

Her arms went around his neck. “Make love to me, Fraser. Make me feel something besides pain and sorrow. I want ye and I feel like I am burning inside for ye.”

“Claire, I canna… God help me, I want to, but I canna. ’Tis not yer heart speaking, but yer grief.”

“Ye are wrong, Fraser. ’Tis my heart, and ’tis my body that I offer ye. Teach me…show me what to do, so I…”

She did not get to finish, for Fraser cut her off when he said, “Damn ye, Claire. Damn us both.”

His mouth was suddenly on hers, coaxing her with a kiss, telling of his feeling for her as it was full of desire. He knew she had not lain with a man before, and he did not want her first time to be painful or frightening for her. He did his best to temper the raging fire of need and desire that burned inside him, but even in that, Claire gave him no quarter. When he pulled back to pace himself, she became the aggressor, and to know it came naturally to her, and not from experience, pushed him beyond what he could endure.

His body took over, leaving his honorable thoughts tumbled in the dust of his mind. His desire matched hers in a primitive need to mate, but only with her. He could feel her body quiver beneath his. He inhaled the sweet fragrance of roses in her hair. He tasted the honey of her mouth again and again, and then kissed his way down, across the smooth flatness of her belly, until he found the place he searched for.

She sucked in her breath and whispered “No, Fraser” when he kissed her, but he did not stop, and a moment later, she opened to him and he heard her soft panting, breathless whispers. “I never knew… Oh…Oh, Fraser, ye are touching my soul and I want to flow outward the way a river joins itself to the sea.”

She began to pant and writhe beneath the tutelage of his tongue, and he brought her to the edge then pulled back, and then brought her to the edge again. He muffled her panting cry with a kiss at the moment her body exploded, and then he drove himself into her.

He felt the barrier give way and he went mindless when he realized he was where he’d wanted to be since that day he first saw her standing on the shore, looking toward their boat with her regal bearing and
an angry expression cast toward the intruders who dared approach her island.

If she felt a pain at all she did not show it, for she began to move beneath him, matching him, driving him forward with her frank honesty and sexual descriptions of how she felt, and the way she told him what she liked and how she liked it.

Spent, he rolled to his side and held her close to him. He dozed off, only to awaken some time later to realize Claire was doing some investigating of her own. She had her hand around him and he was warming up to the idea with every beat of his heart, which sent blood plummeting to that part of him that intrigued her.

“Ye are like magic here, and ye do magical things to me with it.” And then, although he could not believe it himself, she took him in her mouth, and for the first time in his life, Fraser Graham had a woman do what he had done to countless women before. She drove him wild, taking him to the edge, time and again, and pulling back at the right moment to keep him on the edge of a very narrow precipice.

She was completely in control and he was in complete agony, wanting…needing her to finish what she started, until he reached the point where he was ready to take her in order to relieve the torture, when she brought him to the edge again, and instead of pulling back this time, she pulled him into a twisting torrent along with her.

When it was over, he realized there was a difference between making love and being loved, just as there was a difference between making love to a woman you loved, and making love to a woman.

“I love ye, Fraser,” she said, and closed her eyes.

“Ye better, Claire, for ye are mine, and I have no intention o’ letting ye go.”

In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud;

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

William Ernest Henley (1849-1903),

British writer.

Echoes
“Invictus.

In Memoriam R.T.H.B.” (1888)

J
amie returned from Edinburgh with disappointing news.

“It was a wasted trip,” he said. “It was already too late by the time I arrived, although I still canna understand how it could have happened so quickly,” he said.

“What mean ye, it was too late?” Fraser asked.

At the moment, they were the only two in the library. Jamie was half sitting, half leaning against the corner of the desk.

Fraser was pacing slowly about the room with a serious look on his face.

“It seems someone else had already been granted the ward before I arrived.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Fraser said. “Were they given right of marriage as well?”

Jamie shook his head. “Fortunately, no. Only the ward was granted.”

“Did ye find out the name o’ who it was?”

“Och, aye, I found out all right. How do ye like the sound o’ Isobel Lennox and Lord Walter Ramsay as guardians? Or better yet, how do ye think Alasdair would have felt if he knew this would happen? He never cared for Isobel, ye ken.”

“I heard he blamed her for his brother’s death,” Fraser said, “although I never knew exactly what the circumstances were.”

Jamie crossed his legs and leaned back. “He said William Lennox was healthy as a trout, and miserable living with Isobel and her son.”

Fraser stopped pacing. “Ye mean he thought she might have had a hand with William’s death?”

Jamie shrugged. “He never came out and said it, ye ken, but he did infer that was his feeling about it.”

“What was the cause of his death?” Fraser asked.

Jamie thought about that for a moment. “Weel, I dinna ken the cause exactly. Seems I remember that he became ill and it worsened and then he died, but the doctors never knew what was wrong with him.”

“So, where is Isobel’s son now?” Fraser asked.

“Hmm,” Jamie said. “I am no sure. Last I heard Giles was in Edinburgh, living well beyond his means, like his mother.”

Fraser nodded. “I have heard the same about Isobel. Some say she has spent all of William’s money already. That is probably why they needed the right to
and withal to get the custody of Earl Kendrew during the time o’ his ward.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “My fear is there willna be any money left by the time Claire reaches the age of majority when they will finally be free o’ them.”

“That must be why they wanted the right o’ ward,” Fraser said. “I am still puzzled as to how they managed to be granted the ward of Kendrew and Alasdair’s daughters as quickly as they did. It must have come about by some type of political maneuvering and, unfortunately, we are dealing with the English crown. It is my guess that Isobel claimed it by right of kinship, seeing as how she is the widow of their father’s brother, but I am at a loss as to how Lord Walter became involved.”

Jamie withdrew a letter and unfolded it. “This was delivered to me today. It is from my lawyer. He pursued the matter a bit further and learned that the ward of Kendrew was granted to his aunt by marriage, Isobel Lennox, who then committed it to the care of Lord Walter Ramsay, of Inverness. So now we have confirmation that the two of them are in this together.”

“How much time do we have before they take control o’ Alasdair’s children and his possessions?”

“Oh, they plan to move to Inchmurrin, and like many of their ilk have done in the past, I ken they will live like royalty on the inheritance of Alasdair’s children, and by the time Claire reaches her majority, there willna be much of the fortune left.”

“I do not like this,” Fraser said.

“Neither do I, but unless ye have privy to the ear o’ the King of England and hold sway with his opinions,
we have no choice but to return to Grahamstone once the greedy pair arrive.”

“This will no be easy for them to accept,” Fraser said, “especially since we know how they all feel about Isobel and Lord Walter.”

“I agree, but ’tis out of our hands now. All we can do is break the news to them as gently as we can. Do ye want to be the ogre what tells them, or shall I?”

“Perhaps we should do it together,” Fraser said. “That way we can be a double-headed ogre.”

And in the end, that is what they felt like.

Claire took it hardest of all, for she was the eldest and the one most capable of understanding what it meant, knowing the kind of people they would be dealing with, since Claire had said on numerous occasions that she did not like Isobel or Lord Walter. Although, Fraser felt, if he were to be honest, he did not know if that opinion was born of Claire’s own preferences or because she knew her father cared not a whit for either of them. And Claire was ever her father’s daughter.

Jamie and Fraser remained for almost a week before Isobel Lennox, the widow of the children’s uncle, William Lennox, arrived with her paramour, Lord Walter Ramsay, at Inchmurrin Island.

The moment they entered the castle and discovered Fraser Graham and Lord Monleigh were there, Isobel wasted no time in producing the parchment documents attesting to the ward of Kendrew and his sisters being granted to her.

Since they arrived with all their baggage, ready to assume the roles they coveted, the pair moved in immediately. This left Fraser and Jamie with little choice. They had to leave.

“I wish ye could stay with us,” Kendrew told Fraser.

“I wish so, too, but we have to obey the law,” Fraser said.

It was a tearful parting, although Fraser and Jamie both did everything they could to make the transition go smoothly. Fortunately, and much to their surprise, both Isobel and Lord Walter were surprisingly kindhearted toward the children.

“I canna thank ye enough, Lord Monleigh, for all ye did since the tragic news that orphaned these dearest o’ children. ’Tis a blessing to know they have had yer guidance and protection until we could arrive. I do hope ye will find time to pay them a visit.”

“Perhaps we will stop by on our return to Monleigh Castle, in order that we might say goodbye,” Lord Monleigh replied.

“Oh, ye havena moved to Grahamstone Castle permanently?”

“No, we only came for a time to oversee some renovations, and to meet with the retainers and such. We will return home within the coming month.”

“Please do stop and tell the children goodbye,” Isobel said. “Ye are always welcome.”

“Thank ye,” Lord Monleigh said. “And now, if ye will excuse me, I will find my brother, so we can be on our way.”

Fraser walked with Claire and the dogs, for he wanted to tell her he was leaving when they were alone.

“I wish ye could stay.”

“Ye know it is not possible.”

“Then I wish I could go with ye.”

“Ye are needed here, Claire, and ye know it. Just
as I know ye wouldna leave yer brother and sisters. Not at a time like this.”

“Aye, it is something I must do, ye ken, but I do not have to like it.”

She stopped and he put his arms around her, content to hold her against him, while trying to imprint as much of her in his mind as he could, so he would have that much of her, at least, to hold on to in the months they would be apart.

Fraser knew it would be months, and not more than a year, for as soon as her year of mourning was up, he intended to marry her.

Their time together was too short, for Fraser saw Jamie coming down the track, and he knew the time to leave had arrived. He kissed her one last time, branding her with the passion and love he felt for her and, when it ended, he discovered how very difficult it was to leave her and walk away.

“I will write ye, lass.”

She smiled weakly. “And I will write ye back, Fraser Graham.”

While Jamie waited a discreet distance away, Fraser found he was not as strong as he thought. “One last kiss,” he said, and drew her into his arms. “I love ye, Claire.”

She started to cry then, but only for a moment before she got control of herself. “’Tis sorry I am that ye had to see me in a moment o’ weakness. I love ye, Fraser, and it kills me inside to say farewell, but I have to stay strong, and I ken I will see ye again. I dinna want to come to the boat. I will stay here, in the spot where I first laid eyes on ye, and like I watched ye sail into my life, I will watch ye sail oot o’ it.”

“It willna be forever, lass.”

She watched him walk up the track to join his brother, MacTavish and Maddy loping ahead of them. She gave Lord Duffus a pat. “Ye are always with me, are ye not?”

Duffus thumped his tail and raised a cloud of dust, then followed Claire down to the spot where she would wait for the boat.

When it came, she waved and kept on waving until the boat was absorbed into the bright reflection of the sun upon the loch. She wiped the tears drying on her cheeks and smiled at the look of sad understanding she saw in the eyes of her beloved dog.

“Come on, Lord Duffus, let us go home and see how we fare facing our future.”

Claire fully expected Isobel to be as wicked as the Countess of Seaforth who had poor Coinneach Odhar, the Brahan Seer, pitched alive into a barrel of boiling tar. Yet, when Claire returned to the house, Isobel came to greet her warmly.

“My dear niece, it grieves me that I did not hear about yer loss right away. Had I known, I would have rushed to yer side immediately. I ken I canna take the place of your dear father, but I will strive to be a friend, and a loving aunt.”

She took Claire by the hand. “Come, your sisters and I are going through some beautiful fabrics that I bought in Paris. They are of the latest colors and prints. I want each of ye to choose a fabric ye favor, an’ we will have a dress made of it.”

“We canna have new dresses, unless they are black. Have ye forgotten, we are in mourning?”

Isobel looked at Claire’s somber black gown and
smiled. “No, I have not forgotten that, dear. Hout! With so much black about, this place looks as cheerless as a winter day. However, by the time yer mourning period is over, I want ye to have new wardrobes. Therefore, I think we should start with making each of ye a new dress or two now, and we will add a dress, here and there, until we have ye suitably attired.”

Claire agreed to join her sisters. There were dozens of fabrics spread all over the long table in the great hall, the likes of which Claire had never seen.

“Claire, look at the one I have chosen,” Briana said, and held up a soft yellow muslin. “Aunt Isobel said the color would be perfect for my hair. Do ye think so?”

Claire smiled to see Briana’s face so happy. “I think it will make ye the prettiest lass in kirk. The color is beautiful, and the muslin will make a lovely dress.”

“Look at the one I like,” Kenna said, and held up a dark green velvet. “I want a dress for the wintertime out of this. I feel the dark green color is especially good for red hair. What do ye think?”

“With yer hair and yer eyes, ye should have nothing but green, and how regal the velvet looks.”

“Aye,” Kenna said while she ran her hand over the softly napped velvet. “It will be a welcome change after so long in somber colors.”

Claire looked for Greer and saw her at the end of the table. She wandered toward her, taking a few moments to stop whenever a fabric caught her eye. “Have ye decided on yer fabric?” she asked.

Greer sighed and spoke softly. “I like them all. This brown wool would be warm for wintertime.” She put it down and picked up another choice. “This dark blue linen would make up nicely. And this—” Claire noticed
the way Greer’s eyes seemed to light up “—is so beautiful.” She held up a pale green print. “I ken it is no’ a sensible choice, since we seldom go to parties.”

Claire smiled. Greer was the dearest, sweetest person God ever created. She was the kind who returned a compliment with a grander compliment, or wrote a thank-ye letter to someone who sent a thank-ye letter to her.

“Do ye want to know what I think?” Claire asked. “I think ye should get the one that makes ye the happiest. Even if ye choose the green print, ye will enjoy the wearing o’ it, even if it is in yer room, or to walk the dogs. Ye should dress to please yerself, Greer, and hang all those fussy rules. Sometimes a luxury can do much more for yer spirit than a dozen necessities. It is how ye deal with it in yer heart.”

Greer smiled. “Oh, thank ye, Claire. I wanted it, ye ken, but I was afraid it would be too vain to want something that was not practical.”

Claire leaned close and whispered, “Ye have a trunkful of practical, though, do ye not?”

“Aye, and I shall have the green print.” She hugged Claire.

As for Claire, she chose a thin wool twill in a deep purple, and white bobbin lace to edge the low-cut neck.

“Weel now, my lovelies,” Isobel said. “Tomorrow I shall take all of ye to Stirling, where ye shall be measured, so the dressmaker can set to work. Then we will shop for bonnets and flowers and furbelows, too, and petticoats and satin ribbons and stockings the color of cream.”

“We can do all o’ that in one day?” Kenna asked.

“Oh, my dear, of course we can. We will stay at the Inn of Two Doves. I think three days and two nights should give us enough time. If not, we shall stay one more day.”

“What about Kendrew?” Greer asked.

“Lord Walter is taking Kendrew to Glasgow. There is a horse auction and they shall buy Kendrew his own horse.”

The girls all gasped. “A horse for Kendrew,” Kenna said. “He has always wanted his own horse.”

“Weel, now he shall have it.”

That night, when Claire said prayers with Briana and kissed her good-night, Briana hugged her fiercely and said, “I think Isobel is the nicest person.”

“I think it is nice to see ye happy, darling Briana. Now, go to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”

True to her word, Isobel, Claire and her sisters all left for Stirling the following day, and in spite of Claire’s hesitation to accept Isobel, she had to admit the trip was the most marvelous outing she and her sisters had ever taken. In the beginning, Claire was a wee bit embarrassed for they looked like a traveling troop of mourners, all wearing their black, save Briana, whom Isobel said would do better in dark gray, due to her younger age.