Lord of the Black Isle (17 page)

The month of May was come, when every lusty heart

beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit;

for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and flourish in May,

in likewise every lusty heart that is in any manner a lover,

springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds.

—
Le
Morte
d'Arthur
(1470)

Thomas Malory (?–1471?)

English writer

Elisabeth was on her way to the kennel, for she had not been back since that fateful day when she told David about Ronan Mackinnon. She was thinking she was glad she told him, glad she got that out of the way, and glad also that things were back to normal. And she regretted the way things had gone between them. She understood now that he must care for her much more than she suspected, for it was not difficult to comprehend that his hurt over her rejection and the knowledge that her heart belonged to another had shocked him to the core and sent him spiraling into the depths of despondency.

She was happy things were back to normal around the castle and that they were progressing rapidly at the hospital as well. As for David, he seemed changed, although she did not see him as much as before, and to be honest, she did miss seeing him. There was something she sensed about him that intrigued and drew her to him, in spite of her not wanting to fall for him and have her heart get in the way of realizing the dream she had for the hospital, and that fact alone went a long way to ease the tumult she felt inside, which began to dwindle toward peaceful tranquility.

Still, she felt something strange, for it wasn't exactly desire, and it wasn't pity, but something more akin to a wrenching sadness, for there had been little joy or softness in his life and she wondered at the cause. What had he planned on doing before he inherited the title? Had he ever fancied himself in love? Was he as lonely inside as she thought him to be? Is that why he was hard on himself, which sometimes made him difficult to deal with?

And yet these very qualities made him a good leader and loved by his clansmen. She knew it wasn't fair for her to judge him by the standards of her time. She had learned much about the Highlanders and the hardships of their existence from Isobella during their conversations when the two of them were doing archaeological excavations in the cave on Mull. She also knew by heart the plight of Scotland's past: the strife and peril that walked beside them throughout time, the harsh climate of their land, the unforgiving hardness of the terrain, the angry battering of the sea, the penetrating gloom of mist, the loneliness of the barren mountaintops, and the sad memories of lives lost in battle on the moors and in deep glens. She knew of the centuries of harsh treatment at the shrewd hands of the English and the humiliation of being looked down upon by their Lowlander countrymen. And yet, according to Ailis, he was loving, gentle, and kind to his sisters and grieved greatly over the loss of each of them, especially his twin, so recently taken.

She truly liked David and not just because he allowed her to open the hospital. In fact, she knew her feelings ran deeper than like, but she chose to keep that to herself. Mushy feelings always got in the way of things, and if it worked out between them, she knew her big-as-Texas heart was big enough to contain love for him and the hospital. Time would tell…

She did give some thought to the closed-in feelings she had around him, as if his protective feeling for the remnants of his family and his clan were held so tightly to his breast that there was no room for anyone to worm their way into that tight inner circle, for he was not one to open up and declare his feelings. Perhaps it was out of fear of being rejected and hurt, for he did not strike her as a cold or distant man, but more one who did not show his cards until after everyone else had laid theirs on the table. She could be wrong about all of this, of course, and perhaps he was simply the type who preferred a woman of aristocratic breeding—one who was as Celtic as the enchanted woods and fairy glens of the Black Isle. And he deserved such a woman.

Puppies! That's what she needed… a basket of warm, fragrant, wiggling little puppies who loved one and all, licked faces indiscriminately and, best of all, carried no baggage.

She opened the door to the kennel and stepped inside, then made her way to the stall where the pups were kept. She no more than reached there when she could feel his presence, which was absurd, she knew, but it followed her until she opened the stall door and stepped inside.

The deerhound stood and gave herself a shake, and then she poked her nose against Elisabeth's hand. Elisabeth dropped down to stroke the hound's head and spoke softly, “I think you are giving me sympathy, and for that I thank you. We women, no matter our species, must stick together, mustn't we?”

The hound nudged Elisabeth and gave her cheek a lick, and she heard a low, rumbling laugh. Her head jerked up and she saw why David rarely smiled. Women wouldn't be able to withstand the sight of it or the sound of his laugh, for it would draw them toward him as rats to the Pied Piper. And it was a breathtakingly beautiful smile that set fire to his eyes. No woman, and she meant
no
woman, no matter her age, could ever be impervious to it.

Something about that revelation disturbed her, and she rose to her feet feeling anything but immune to him. Strange, how the thought of some other woman going after him did not sit well with her. In fact she found it irked the hell out of her. Her heart pounded at the nearness of him and from the intensity of knowing his penetrating gaze was centered upon her. Her mouth was dry, and she was certain she could not speak. She made the mistake of looking at him and her heart seemed to stop, for she knew what he was thinking. He was too quiet, his gaze too intense, and he was standing way too close. She wondered if she was falling in love with him and had simply been too pigheaded to notice. Well, she could sure do worse…

She could see in his eyes that in spite of his disappointment over learning about Ronan, he still held his affection for her. She was glad to know that final wedge of separation had not been driven between them. “It is good to hear you laugh,” she said. “It's a beautiful sound. You should practice it more often.”

A brief wave of melancholy seemed to settle over him before it moved on, but it was enough for her to see in his eyes that not all his wounds were healed, and she thought of the words of Homer, “And taste the melancholy joy of evils past: for he who much has suffer'd, much will know.”

She was sorry he knew much about suffering, for she could see the residue of it lingering in the deep blue-violet of his eyes and it touched her, for he was such a strong and powerful man, and yet, he had a gentle side that was capable of being deeply wounded and she regretted the way in which she had been the cause of some of it, for one should never ease their own doubts and feelings by wounding others.

“I am glad to see you, for I have missed seeing you,” and that was true, she realized, for she had missed the warm camaraderie that once existed between them.

“Have ye?” he said.

She wanted to smile at his Scots brevity. “Hmmm, I expected more than two words.”

“Lower yer expectations.” But, she did try to get it under control. “Yes,” she said rather breathlessly. “I have tried, truthfully I have, and that is why the world seemed just a little more beautiful when I saw you just now. And then when I heard your voice, I knew that it was true.”

“‘Truthful words are not beautiful; beautiful words are not truthful.' Ye have studied Lao Tzu,” he said.

“No, I have not, but I have studied Alfred Lord Tennyson, who said, ‘Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.'”

“And ye are speaking from yer soul?”

“Yes, I suppose I am, for I regret that my words were not more carefully chosen so many times when I was harsh. My calling is to heal pain, not to cause it. Unfortunately, I am the outspoken twin who speaks before she thinks, often without taking the time to find the right words to soften the edge of my point. I did not mean to be cruel or to wound you.”

She was tying his thoughts in knots. He was not prepared for this. His feelings for her were vast, silent, and deep like the waters of the North Sea, not shallow and bubbling over rocks like a narrow Highland burn. He feared what it could do to him, for how could he… how could anyone live with such intensity of passion as he felt for her? She was on his mind constantly. She plagued his sleep. He even felt guilty for offering her the abbey as a hospital, because he knew it was not for benevolent reasons, but because it was a way to keep her here.

All he thought about was making love to her, so much that even knowing of her love for Mackinnon did not matter as much as he thought it did at first. But, he was not sure of her or her feelings. Did she speak from the heart, or did she try to assuage his grief and relieve her own guilt? It did not matter if she was offering to make peace between them. They could never be friends, for his feelings for her were deep and far beyond that now. Yet, he did not want to risk his heart or reveal the tender shoots of his passion that lay coiled like a serpent in his chest, a master passion that devoured all others.

She toyed with some lace trim at the cuff of her sleeve. “My only thought was to be truthful, for I felt I owed you that much.”

Silently, he studied her face for several moments before he said, “'Tis of no matter now, it is said and done.”

“Yes, I suppose it is and I need to get back.” She turned and walked away, and heard the snap of the kennel door and the tread of his footfalls coming behind her until he fell in step beside her. “It matters to me,” she said. “And I want you to know I am sorry for the harshness of my words.”

He took her elbow and she paused to turn toward him, her eyes questioning. He seemed taller than she remembered, and she was momentarily distracted by the white shirt he wore, loosely tied at the throat so that his smooth skin was visible. It was beyond rare to see him out of his mail or without a doublet. His dark hair was loose and damp, as if he had just come from a swim, and he seemed even blacker in the dimness of the kennel—something she blamed on the fact that everything about him seemed different and more intense than before. And she was certainly more aware of the manliness of him and the nearness. She was curious at the change in her feelings toward him. Had the rift between them given her the distance she needed to allow her true feelings to surface?

Not that she was falling in love with him, of course, but a nice, little romance wouldn't hurt things. She liked to be held, caressed, and comforted as much as any woman, and kissing rated very high in her book. Having these feelings and knowing he could provide what she needed made her feel a part of Aisling, where before she was nothing but a stranger. If this were to be her home, she wanted to belong here. She realized she had been staring and felt a warm flush heating her face. She started to turn away, but his hand lashed out and caught her by the wrist. He yanked her against him, driving his hands into her hair as he turned her face toward his.

“Not this time,” he said. “Ye willna get away this time.” His mouth slanted across hers and kissed her deeply and thoroughly with such heat and passion that the kiss was hard, almost painful, to the point that it was exquisitely erotic and she felt all liquid inside. So much for her desire to run from him, and who was she kidding? She cared for him… more than she should and that made her cautious and wary. Yet, when she was with him like this, all of these things dissolved until there was nothing left but the wonderful way she felt when he touched her.

He must have sensed it, for he groaned and backed her against the kennel wall and pressed the long length of his body against hers, the hardness of him almost painful against her hip bone. Her arms came up and she stood on her toes and felt his hand cover her breast, and a shiver rippled across her, starting at her shoulders, and she felt the rapid escalation of her breathing. His hand tugged at her skirt, and a moment later, she felt his hand against her leg, then slipping around to grip her buttocks as he pressed himself against her. A thickness gathered in her throat, and she felt a flush of heat that seemed to extract all the energy she possessed. Weak now with yearning, she moaned and leaned limply against him.

His hand came around and tugged down her undergarment, and he found the place he sought and groaned, his fingers slipping inside, and she would have collapsed if he hadn't had a good grip on her. She was totally unprepared for the way she was overcome with an intense wildness to get closer to him, and even closer if that were possible. His lips kissed her neck, beneath her ear, then across her now bared shoulder, lightly nipping at her skin, before he found her mouth. She could feel the heat from him burning into her skin, searing with white-hot intensity. She decided he was a magician when it came to women for he could certainly bend one's will to his quite adroitly and… She forgot what she was thinking for he was kissing his way across her face, and she wanted him to curl his arms around her and hold her close and never stop.

He softly whispered the things he wanted to do to her, and her knees buckled and her mind was screaming,
Yes… yes, do it!

“I want to feel you lying beside me with nothing on. I want to feel the satin of yer skin and to hear the way ye gasp when I come into ye. I have thought of naught since I first saw ye that day near the burn. I felt possessed by ye, by yer spirit and the woman ye are. Ye bind me and I am helpless to put ye from me.”

Her knees buckled, and she was certain she would have fallen if he hadn't held her pressed against the wall of the kennel. His hand began to move faster, and she began to pant as she tilted her head back to rest against the wall, and it was only the weight of his body pressed against hers that kept her from falling. She began to press against the pressure of his hand, moving in rhythm with it, her breathing nothing more than short panting gasps, and she was afraid she was going to moan out loud from sheer agony of it. She felt cheated, for she wanted to feel his beautiful bare skin against hers, and then her body began to shudder and she knew she couldn't hold back. The moan came bubbling up and he captured it with his mouth, kissing her with almost brutal intensity as he drove her over the edge.