Let Me Be Your Hero (7 page)

“That was when I knew I always wanted ye waiting for me when I came home. I love ye, Claire, and I want ye with me for the rest o’ our lives. I ken this is yer time o’ mourning, and ye canna think aboot things too clearly, but will ye think upon it during this time, and let me know if ye think ye might feel…”

“Fraser, will ye hurry up and ask me to marry ye so I can say yes, and then we can get back to what we came up here for?”

He suppressed his laugh against her throat, but she
felt the rumbling vibration of it and smiled. She was a fortunate lass to have found this wonderful man at a time when she needed him in her life the most. She was glad her father had known Fraser, and that he would have heartily approved of her marriage to him. She had some other thoughts, too, but when Fraser put his mind and his hands to it, he could be most persuasive with his distractions.

Those magic hands, they were everywhere, and he knew each place and how to touch her and how to make her want him with a deep, aching need that made her want to be closer, to open wider, to go wilder than she thought herself capable of, or that she had any previous knowledge of. And then she felt it, somewhere deep inside, she felt the first trembling of a far-reaching reaction that set off another reaction, which continued on and on. She was not prepared for such a raw awareness of intimacy that drew her into him and made her want to please him as much as he pleased her.

Slowly, consummately, she was being drugged by a lazy coil of tightening desire that pushed her forward, past caution, past inhibition, past everything save the need to couple with him, to feel his power, to hold him inside her until he cried out her name. Time and again, she thought she was at that point, only to have him leave her panting and writhing, almost pleading at the entrance to a new world of knowledge and passionate response, a world of sexual desire that yawned like temptation before her, calling…beckoning…
come in…come in….

She feared she loved him too much, and wanted to give herself to him to the point that she could lose herself
completely within him, and then realize too late that he had completely surrounded her, until she was his prisoner, bound as tightly to him as an indentured slave.

Out of the heated excitement that controlled her, his face began to come into focus over hers, and she wondered if she had fallen for a mortal man, or one of the mythological creatures that lured foolish young women to their doom.

She felt his palm slide between her legs, which put his thumb in a most delicious place. She moaned and lifted her hips against it. Something strange was happening, something was driving her without her knowledge or consent. How did she know to do what she was doing, how to move just so, and where did the faultless rhythm come from?

Everything was perfectly synchronized, from the right amount of pressure applied by his thumb, to the slow, curling coil of desire in her belly, and the measured pace of her hips moving in sequence with each panting breath, each exquisite moan, every wave of response that pulsed through her.

His lips replaced his hand, and at the first touch of his tongue, she cried out. Her body convulsed, again and again, until she begged him to end it, but he would not.

“Ye are not through, lass. Ye have more to give. I love the way ye move against me,” he said, and drove her beyond insanity again with his mouth. She was sweating, her body was convulsing with rippling sensations of pleasure that came, one after the other, rolling, and rolling, endlessly in the search for a way to keep the moment going, faster, harder, longer, with a feeling that was as beautiful as it was full of power.

He moved over her and eased himself inside, and the exquisite torture of wanting him again gripped her once more, and she went with him to that place that only exists somewhere between pleasure and pain, and she loved the power of it, and she gave herself up to the primitive side of her, and completely erased all thought from her mind, which gave her body full control.

The next thing she knew, she was on top of him, still joined with him, and he guided her with his hands on her hips, and when she leaned forward, her breasts brushed his lips and he drew her nipple into his mouth, pulling, drawing, tasting her in rhythm with her hips grinding down upon him.

She sensed the change in him, and the power that took over and drove forward, out of control until she felt him flow into her, and shuddered as the waves of fulfillment tightened intensely around her, and her body jerked, again and again, until she leaned forward to lay her head on his chest, completely exhausted; delicately, beautifully, perfectly changed forever.

His hands were gentle with their caresses now, his words soothing, and she wished she could fall asleep right where she was, and stay there forever.

Part of that request was granted, and she closed her eyes. She entered a winding grotto, cool and deep, where the sun did not shine and the moon was asleep. Splashes of color, rainbows without end that curved and arched and met with a bend. And she drifted through mutations of color and bands of light, until the world turned dreamy, and she floated out of sight.

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616), English poet and playwright.
Macbeth
(1606), act 1, scene 7

M
uch to Claire’s delight, Fraser began to spend more time at Grahamstone Castle so he could be near her, and he soon became a regular visitor to Inchmurrin.

At first he was treated with the same courtesy that had been extended to him in the beginning, but as time passed, the hospitality Isobel and Lord Walter showed toward Fraser cooled drastically. When it became obvious that he was paying court to Claire, there were obvious and outward signs of their disapproval, until one day, Lord Walter asked Fraser into the library.

“I would like to have a few words with ye,” he said.

Fraser was a better judge of people than Lord Walter gave him credit for, and he had been waiting for this moment to come along.

He took a seat in a chair near the desk, and watched
Lord Walter pick up a silver letter opener, curious to know if he picked it up for a purpose other than to stab Fraser with it. Instead, Lord Walter seemed content to twirl it with his long, slim fingers.

“I would imagine ye have an idea why I asked ye to come here,” he said.

“I have an idea, aye.”

“Then ye must know that Isobel and I do not really approve of your courting Claire.”

“It has become quite apparent of late, I ken.”

“It is not that we dinna enjoy yer visits, or that we dislike ye, it is naught more than our desire to have what is best for Claire.”

“I ken Claire is quite capable of making that decision for herself.”

Lord Walter carefully ignored that and went on. “Claire is a very beautiful, very special young woman. Her breeding is impeccable. She could have, I daresay, any man she wanted, and there has already been many inquiries and interest in her.”

Fraser leaned forward. “Lord Walter, why dinna ye come out and say what it is that ye are running around the bush aboot?”

His face was not one that gave any hint as to what he was thinking, so what was presented was a false show to mask the truth behind it. It was difficult to detect at first, which suggested it was something he must have perfected some time ago, after a great deal of practice. “We feel Claire is destined for a great marriage. We have talked aboot discussing her with some well-placed acquaintances of ours, who could prove helpful in arranging an invitation for her to go to court in London. If all proved favorable, then an engagement
to foreign royalty would not be out of the question for her. I would like to think that ye would want what is best for her, and not put yer own personal interests before Claire’s. Such an opportunity for her canna be overlooked.”

“It is my understanding that ye and Isobel were granted the guardianship, but not with right of marriage,” Fraser said. “Is that correct?”

“Aye, it is.”

“Then Claire is free to marry whom she chooses. I would think you would want to give her the freedom to do just that, since it is her right.”

“I think Claire would see the opportunity in this for her.”

“Then why dinna ye ask Claire instead o’ me? Although, I can tell ye what she would say. Claire would rather sup with the Devil than spend one night in England, court or no.”

“Claire is an intelligent young woman. I am certain that when we lay it all oot for her, she will be more favorably inclined.”

Fraser stood. “Then by all means, lay it oot, and ye can tell me how successful ye were when I return next week. Now, if ye will excuse me, Lady Claire awaits me, and I dinna like to keep my lass waiting.”

Claire was waiting for him in the gallery, where the portraits of her ancestors watched their every move. She was sitting by a large carved chest in a chair that made her look even smaller than she was.

He hated to see her in her mourning clothes. The black drained all the color from her face, but worse, Claire was such a lively, animated person that part of her seemed lost when she put on black and assumed
her role of chief mourner, since she was the eldest. Still, he could not begrudge her mourning the deaths of three members of her family. He would live with the black, because it was part of who she was.

She stood when she saw him approach. “What did he want with ye? Did he ask ye what yer intentions were, like an inquisitive father?”

“No, Claire, he didna. It was quite the opposite. He, in so many words, warned me away from ye.”

Her face seemed to go slack with disbelief. “Surely ye misunderstood him.”

“Sweet love o’ mine, there was no way to misinterpret what he said. He has plans fer ye, Claire, and they dinna include me.”

“What kind o’ plans?”

“How would ye like to go to court, and live in London, and be betrothed to some Spanish prince, or mayhap an Italian count?”

She gasped, then seemed to think better of it. “Ye speak in jest, do ye not?”

“No, love, I am serious to the core of my being. It would seem the worm is about to turn, on both o’ us.”

“They canna force me to marry, can they?”

“No, they were not given the authority, for if they had that, they would have been given a right of marriage decree from the king along with being appointed yer guardians.”

“What can we do?”

He took her by the hand and they went outside. Lord Duffus appeared almost immediately.

“Does that dog sit around the doorway all day, waiting for ye to step oot?”

“Mostly,” she said, smiling beautifully up at him.
“Ye are not worrit that I will leave ye and marry some Italian with Bourbon blood, are ye?”

“No, I ken ye canna find a better man than the one ye have.”

They walked along the track that took them down to the white pebbled shoreline, so they could walk along the loch. The water was smooth, the top glassy from the reflection. Overhead, birds cried out and made an occasional dive into the water.

They walked quite some time, without either of them saying anything. Once they reached an outcropping of rock, they sat down on a boulder.

“Have ye thought about what ye want to do?” he asked.

“I dinna ken what choices I have. I will tell Lord Walter and Isobel that I dinna wish to leave here, nor marry into a royal family. I am sure they will understand.”

“I doubt it, but for yer sake, I hope they do as well.”

“Why are ye so negative when it comes to them?”

“It is a feeling I have…one I have always had aboot them. I didna trust them afore they came here and I dinna trust them now.”

“They have been more than kind to us.”

“Aye, and it was for a reason, ye ken, although I dinna ken what that reason is, just now. But give them time and they will reveal themselves. ‘Truth will come to light,’ as Shakespeare said.”

“I would rather ye not use that quote.”

“Why?”

“Because the full quote is, ‘Truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long.’”

“Aye, it was not a good choice.”

“So, tell me, Fraser, what is the way oot of this fray?”

“We marry right away.”

She was speechless. He could tell she wanted to say something, but the words were not there. “This is a shock to ye, I ken, but it is the only way to prevent further meddling. As easily and as quickly as they got the right to yer ward, I think they could just as easily come up with a decree from the king ordering ye to appear at court. Once that happens, yer fate is sealed. Of course, I am not trying to force myself on ye, either. Ye are free to make up yer own mind. I have made ye the offer of marriage, born o’ the love I bear ye, but I respect yer right to make yer own decisions. I willna ask ye again, so if ye are leaning toward a lifetime as my wife, ye best be saying so, Claire Lennox.”

She put her arms around him and kissed him softly, and again, this time with more passion, before she whispered the words against his mouth, peppered with kisses. “I will marry ye, Fraser Graham, today”
kiss
“tomorrow”
kiss
“next week”
kiss
“whenever ye say.”

“Ye ken, ye canna mention anything aboot this to anyone. I need to work this all oot and make the arrangements. I will send word to Jamie, and once he arrives we will pay a visit to our friend, the Earl of Argyll, since he seems to hold the reins to everything that goes on in this area, especially since yer father’s death. With my brother and the Earl of Argyll standing for us, I dinna think we would have any problems with yer guardians, but to be cautious, I ken it would be best for us to keep our intent to marry a secret. Ye canna mention it, even to yer sisters. Agreed?”

“Aye, Captain—Fraser, the man I love with all my heart—Graham, I agree.”

“My bonnie Claire, ye are a delight to my soul and a joy to my heart.”

“Aye,” she said, “that I am.”

In the hours long before dawn, Dermot MacFarlane rowed silently across the loch to the western shore. Jamie and Fraser stepped out of the dark shadows and greeted him.

“All is arranged?” Dermot asked.

“Aye,” Fraser replied. “And my lass?”

“She awaits ye. I have her things in the boat.” He scanned the area along the shore, up to the line of trees. “Ye have come alone?”

“The Earl of Argyll has sent thirty men. They await us just beyond the trees, along with twenty Graham clansmen,” Jamie said. “Ye have transportation ready, in case it is needed?”

“Aye. How many will ye be taking to Inchmurrin with ye?” asked Dermot.

“A dozen o’ Argyll’s men and an equal number o’ Grahams,” Fraser said. “At the first sign o’ trouble, ye will signal them. Pray to God, we willna have need o’ them.”

“I dout ye will ha’ any trouble from Lord Walter,” Dermot said. “He no had the foresight to bring an armed guard with him. It would appear he was bit by the bug o’ overconfidence, and he is not a man to rally to a cause unless he is certain it will go in his favor.”

“Then let us move the men and retrieve yer lass,” Jamie said.

The sun must have overslept this morning, Claire thought, for it seemed well past the hour of sunrise. There was only the faintest hint of tinted sky that formed behind the black silhouette of trees. The wind blew not, the birds were quiet, and her heartbeat was thunderously loud.

She stood at the window in her dark room and waited for enough light to enable her to see, at least beyond the end of her hand. Her breathing was unsteady, and her palms were damp. Nothing stirred, as if the entire world was enveloped in the same sense of urgency that gripped her.

She was worried for Dermot, Fraser and Jamie, and whomever they enlisted to help them. If it were Argyll, she was not too concerned, for Argyll was too powerful to touch, unless it was by the king’s own hand.

The plight of her sisters was utmost on her mind. For their sake, she thought it was good that Fraser did not want her to inform her sisters of their plans. Their innocence of the matter should protect them from any hostile retaliation from Isobel or Lord Walter, although she did not think that was likely. They would be upset, of course, that she chose to marry in this manner, but they would adjust to it in time. Lord Walter was like a father to Kendrew, and Isobel was equally maternal to Claire and her sisters. In spite of Fraser’s distrust of them, Claire thought their motives pure.

When the sky began to grow lighter, she had a sudden attack of panic. What if something went wrong? What if Fraser was not on his way for her, but detained, or suffering a change of heart? That was followed
by a sense of loneliness, and then an acute longing for the presence of her father.

Somewhere in the shadows she thought she saw something, and she pressed her face closer to the pane of glass. Were they here now, waiting for enough light to show their presence? She doubted Argyll himself would be with them, but he might have sent one of his men to present Lord Walter with a letter bearing the duke’s seal, or perhaps it was given over to the sheriff who would present it. Or perhaps Argyll did not wish to involve himself and only Fraser and Jamie waited in the shadows for the coming of first light.

The sky was lighter now, and she could see the waters of the loch. Once she thought she heard the sound of someone walking over the cobblestones in the courtyard, but when she listened, she did not hear it again. The smell of oats cooking in the kitchen reminded her that she had not eaten. It also reminded her that somewhere in the castle, Lord Walter was awake and dressed, unaware of the guests or the surprise that awaited him.

She saw a man, standing just outside the courtyard wall, and then he turned and walked away, but not before she saw that it was Dermot. He must have penned the dogs, for they were always trailing behind him at this time of morning, and that gave her some reassurance that all was going well, at least so far.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Fraser and Jamie approach, and she left her room to make the longest walk of her life, down to the arms of the man who awaited her.

Lord Walter was livid with anger, and it showed
from every angle of his bearing, before she even saw the rage on his face. When he saw her, he turned angrily. “And this is how ye repay our many kindnesses toward ye and yer brother and sisters?”

Fraser did not give Claire an opportunity to speak, for he stepped forward, blocking even Lord Walter’s view of her. “The fault lies not with the lass, but with yer own stubbornness in regard to Lady Claire’s right to marry, which ye were not granted along with the right of wardship.”

“I was not trying to force her, but merely offered my counsel. Ye are interfering in family business that is none o’ yer concern.”

Lord Monleigh moved next to Fraser. “There is no need for dissention and argument. This step was necessary in order to prevent painful and unnecessary discussions concerning the differences between yer preferences for Lady Claire’s husband and her own, in an attempt to pressure and influence her to turn against the man she has declared she wishes to marry. I trust ye willna interfere and necessitate the intervention of Argyll’s troops, and those of my own clan.”

“Take her,” Lord Walter said. “If she prefers to marry ye, I wash my hands of any concern for her, her future, or trying to arrange a great and grand marriage for her.” Without another word, he whirled around and returned to the house.