Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (17 page)

He would change that though. Hadn’t he already sworn to be a better brother to her? He’d confront Gillean about his choice of husband for her and ensure she had a good match. She needed someone by her side. As bold as she was, the strain of running a castle alone was too much for a lass to cope with. He would at least have her looked after by a good man.

On the morrow he intended to make up for his behaviour. But for now, he would drink. He grinned. Aye, drink to forget. That always helped. Forget Lorna and Alice and the babe. Just for one night. Forget Katelyn….

Discarding the beaker on the window ledge, he reached for the jug of wine. He cursed as he stumbled and knocked the cup out the window. He peered over but darkness swallowed it. Damnation. He traipsed out of his room, pausing in his doorway as he heard voices.

Logan.

Finn couldn’t hear what was being said but he stood in the entrance to Lorna’s solar. Feminine whispers reached his ears and he clenched a fist. Why did Logan visit his sister’s chambers so late at night? He stared hard and saw the flash of a white chemise. The door slammed shut suddenly and Logan cursed aloud before turning away. Finn dropped into the shadows of his room as Logan stormed by, adjusting his plaid.

Shaking his head in disgust, Finn clenched his jaw tight and fisted a hand at his side. With bed-rumpled hair and garments in disarray, Finn had a fine idea of what Logan had been doing. The swine. The bastard. He’d trusted Logan to look after his sister, not
bed
her.

He stormed after him, barrelling down the stairs and out of the hall. He spilled out onto the rough ground and groaned. Pulling himself to standing, he took a moment to get his bearings and gave a mocking laugh. Logan was nowhere to be seen. A small mercy, given Finn’s drunken state.

He perched on the remains of the low stone wall that had been replaced by the larger one and chugged what wine hadn’t spilled from the jug. He peered around. Only a few men remained on the walls, their footsteps quiet. Finally he felt free of Katelyn. She was everywhere. Not that he had seen her since supper, but everywhere he went, her face teased his mind. If he looked at the stairs, he remembered her climbing them. When he set foot in his chambers, he imagined her on his bed. Even escaping to the kitchens didn’t help. All he could think of was throwing her up onto that large table in the middle, parting her thighs and losing himself.

With a laugh, he shook his head and drank the last remaining drops of wine. He’d spent all day avoiding her when all he longed to do was fold her into his embrace and protect her from everything. In his gut that familiar dread churned but he ignored it. Just because he cared for her welfare, did not mean he cared for
her
. It did not mean he had any attachment to her. Hadn’t he learned it was dangerous to care for a woman? Life was too risky, especially for the lasses. He would never go through that kind of grief again. His interest in Katelyn was as a friend and that of a brother to Lorna. Lorna needed his aid so he would give it.

Never mind that she’d been the only woman he’d ever opened up to about Alice. He shook away the memories. Lord, that woman sent him out of his wits—more addictive and dangerous than a poppy tonic. She addled his mind. What nonsense had he said about love? How he thought mayhap he loved the memory of Alice more than he’d really loved Alice? Had that been true? Was he so determined to cling to the hurt that he couldn’t remember how he’d actually felt about Alice? When he looked at Katelyn, his love for Alice seemed so insipid—a young, foolish kind of love. As sweet and as lovely as she was, Finn had never felt the same desperate need for her as he did Katelyn.

Footsteps drew his attention. Logan stepped out of the hall, glanced around and ran a hand through his brown hair. Jaw tense, Finn narrowed his eyes and studied the man. He must have gone to the armoury. His sister trusted Logan unquestionably. Was she also trusting him with her body? A swell of anger made is skin hot. He did not like the idea of the man putting his hands on Lorna. She was still vulnerable after her marriage to her controlling husband. He could hardly stand by and let someone take his pleasure and bring shame on Lorna.

“Logan!” he shouted and came unsteadily to his feet. He dropped the jug, not caring when he heard a crack. “Logan,” he said again when the man turned to face him. “I crave a word with ye.”

“What can I do for ye, Finn?”

In the glowing torch light, Logan’s strong features looked strained and tired. Good. Let that be his punishment for believing he could take advantage of his sister.

“I saw ye leaving Lorna’s chambers.”

Logan seemed to take a moment to consider this before nodding. “Aye, ye may have done.”

Finn curled his hand into a fist. Ach, the man did not even dispute it. Did he boast with his men of bedding the lady of the keep? Damn him.

“So ye dinnae deny it?”

“I dinnae deny it,” he replied evenly. “I am in no habit of lying to ye, Finn.”

Rage bubbled up inside Finn and he breathed heavily through his nostrils. The gall of the man. Looking him straight in the eyes and calmly declaring he’d bedded his sister! Before he realised what he’d done, he brought a fist across Logan’s face.

The man staggered back, eyes wide. When he didn’t fall, it only incensed Finn more. Why did he not even show the slightest bit of shame? He had thought Logan honourable. Hell, he’d trusted him with his sister.

Leaping forward, Finn used his weight to push Logan to the ground. Instead of fighting him, Logan held up his fists in defence and tried to shove him off. Finn was too heavy and used the chance to punch his undefended ribs. The brown haired man expelled a gagging cough and Finn repeated the movement. Blood trickled from Logan’s nose.

With a sudden show of strength, Logan used his feet to propel Finn away. It took Finn by surprise and he ended up pinned underneath the man. The wine must have dulled his senses as, though Logan was a strong man, no one could defeat Finn in a fair fight. He stared up at Logan while the man kept him restrained with an arm across his neck. He braced himself for a hit, but none came.

“I dinnae blame ye for yer anger.” Logan drew in a ragged breath. “But ‘tis misplaced. Ye should know better than anyone I wouldnae harm yer sister.”

Finn narrowed his eyes and shoved Logan away. Logan allowed him to clamber to his feet and eyed him warily.

“If ye want to look after her, ye willnae bed her again.”

“I make no promises.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest.

With a roar, Finn ran for Logan again but a blinding pain struck him across the mouth and he realised he’d run into a fist. He reeled back, a hand to his now bloody lip.

“I love her,” Logan said quietly as Finn tried to blink away the painful haze the punch had left him with. “I fear ‘twill come to naught but I willnae make a promise I dinnae intend to keep. If I can persuade Lorna she loves me too then any promise would be for naught.”

Finn let his shoulders drop. Ach, he was a fool. He should have known Logan would have honourable intentions. The man admired his sister more than anyone. Of course he loved her. Anyone could see that. Apart from him apparently. When exactly did he become the fool? If anyone had dishonourable intentions it was him. But no longer. Nay, he was determined to be as chivalrous as Logan.

“I wish ye luck....”

“What are ye doing, ye great fools?” A feminine voice cut him off and he saw Katelyn stood at the top of the steps to the kitchens.

Logan held up his hands. “Dinnae worry, my lady, all is settled now, is it not?” He looked at Finn for confirmation.

“Aye, all is settled.”

With a nod, Logan retreated into the hall. Finn pitied him really. Finn knew no one more stubborn than his sister. He’d have a hard time convincing her of his love.

The word lingering in this mind—
love
—he faced Katelyn. Hands on her hips, chin set into a determined thrust, he braced himself for a scolding.

“What were ye doing? Have ye been fighting? One of the maids ran down and said Logan had ye pinned to the ground.” She sniffed as she approached. “Have ye been drinking?”

Finn grimaced. “Aye, just a wee drop.”

She froze and her gaze lingered on his mouth. Cursing inwardly, he put his hand to his lip. No doubt the sight of blood summoned many horrific memories. Hell, the sight of him acting like a barbarian did not likely help either.

Shoulders straight, she reached for his hand and drew it away. The tiniest flicker of uncertainty dashed across her face and he heard her suck in a breath. She touched his lip and he held back a wince.

“Let’s clean this up,” she ordered and snatched his hand.

Her small, cool fingers in his sent a tremor up his arm and he gulped. She dragged him down the stairs to the kitchen. It was empty save for one maid who excused herself upon seeing them. A few candles flickered on the side tables but everything had been cleared away for the night, apart from a pestle and mortar and a few leaves. Bunches of herbs hung from a metal rack above the table, scenting the air.

“What were ye doing in here, lass?”

Katelyn grinned and held up a pot. “Preparing a yarrow root salve.” She motioned to a stool and made him sit. Her smile dropped as she scooped some out with her finger and shuffled closer. “’Tis for scratches and… and bruises.”

The foggy haze from the wine dissipated a little and he furrowed his brow. “Ye have need of it?”

“I…” She licked her lips. “’Tis naught. Just a few wee scratches. It happens when I… ye know….”

“When ye have those dreams?”

“Aye.”

“Ye still suffer?”

“Sometimes. Though not as badly as before.” Katelyn’s mesmerising gaze latched onto his for the merest instant before dropping to his lips. “’Tis no matter.” She dabbed a dollop of the salve on his lips and its sweet fragrance teased him.

“It does matter, Katie.” He tried to focus on her face and not on the hint of rounded breasts that sat in his eye line, still encased in that deep purple. The balm stung but Katelyn’s beautiful figure made him forget it. He dragged his gaze up. “I dinnae like the thought of ye coming to harm.”

“Ach, a few scratches and bruises… ‘tis nothing to be concerned about.”

She drew her hand away from his lip and hooked a finger under his chin to inspect the damage. “Why were ye fighting, Finn?”

“Because I am a fool,” he offered with a tilted grin.

“Yer no fool.” Katelyn dropped her hand and backed away. “But ye are drunk. What did Logan do to anger ye?”

“He loves my sister.”

“And why does that anger ye?”

Finn laughed. “I told ye, I am a fool. I was a fool with ye and a fool with Logan.”

“Why were ye a fool with me?”

Curses, this would not do. He stood abruptly, making her stumble and he hooked an arm around her waist to prevent her from falling. She was soft and giving in his arms, even with plenty of space between them.

“Ye make it hard for me to be an honourable man,” he murmured.

He saw her throat work when she gulped and her hands slid up his arms. “Ye dinnae need to be honourable, Finn. I dinnae ask anything of ye. Ye…ye make me feel safe. Ye scared away the demons somehow. I think yer a very special man.”

“I cannae dishonour ye.” His voice came out tight while she continued to work her hands up and down his arms. His skin tingled wherever she touched.

Something clouded her eyes. Uncertainty mayhap? Fear? By God, he did not want her scared. He tugged her near, remembering how his body seemed to soothe her. The look—that haunted, troubled one—dissolved, leaving expectant breaths and eyes that darkened with need. Katelyn lifted her chin and clutched his neck, pressing her hands underneath his hair. He used his free hand to clasp her close, splaying it over the curve of her rear.

They shared several breaths as she raised herself up and he savoured them. When was the last time he’d enjoyed simply holding a woman. He couldn’t remember. With Alice mayhap? Nay, not even then. Before he could think further, he closed the gap and his body came instantly alive at the feeling of velvety lips beneath his.

Katelyn trembled in his arms and parted her lips allowing access. And though he’d intended to take it slow—ach, he’d not intended to kiss her at all—her taste drove the very sense from him. One touch of her tongue and he took everything she could give. Each thrust of her tongue, each sigh and desperate touch made him hunger for her. But he could not take her.

To give her pleasure though… surely that was not such a dishonourable act?

He bunched her skirts in his hand, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her thigh and his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. Finn ached. Unbelievably so. But the agony would be nothing if he could but banish some of Katelyn’s torment. Now was not the time for battle or strong words. At a loss for any other way to combat it, he would use softer methods. As he kissed her, an intense, mind-numbing kiss, then manoeuvred her toward the table and lifted her. Katelyn kept her hold on his neck, apparently unwilling to release him. Her skirts remained up around her thighs giving him easy access. He broke their kiss for the briefest moment to admire her. Dishevelled hair, glossy eyes, crumpled skirts, unreasonably lush lips… His knees juddered again and he plunged a hand between her legs at the same time as gripping the back of her neck to take her mouth once more.