Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (18 page)

Heat and dampness greeted his fingers, the scent of arousal pervaded the air. He longed to draw it in, the fragrance of his sweet, sweet Katie, but alas that delicious mouth of hers would not let him. She wriggled against his fingers, begged incoherently for more, her words drowned by the forceful movements of his lips.

Legs shaking, Katelyn rocked into his hand and he circled her folds before plunging two fingers inside her. She cried out against his mouth, the sound gripping his heart. To bring Katelyn pleasure had to be the most rewarding experience of his life. He couldn’t think of a single lover who compared to her. Her open response, her delicious taste and fragrance—none could possibly compare.

Her thighs tensed and she was close. He pressed harder—with determination. Voices filtered down from outside and they both stiffened.

Gillean. And Logan, he assumed.

“Have ye seen Lady Katelyn?”

“Nay, my laird,” Logan replied.

Finn resumed his movements and she released a suppressed cry. Finn pressed his lips to Katelyn’s ear. “Hush.”

“I assumed she was abed but her chamber door is open,” Gillean continued.

“Forgive me, my laird, I havenae seen her. Mayhap she is praying?”

“This late at night?” the laird sneered.

Forcefully, Finn worked in and out of her. He would bring her such pleasure that her worries would be driven from her mind and replaced by memories of what he did to her. Even when she was married to Gillean, she’d remember him. And, by God, would he remember it too. He never wanted to forget the day Katelyn came apart in his arms.

“The kitchens mayhap?” Logan offered.

Heart pounding, he let his lips linger on her cheek as her breaths came in frantic gasps and she dropped her hands to grip at the top of his arms. He retreated further so as to watch it happen. It would take a whole army to prevent him from seeing this. Gillean certainly wouldn’t. Eyes wide, lips parted, she tensed. Her gaze never left his. The lass was braver than she realised. She didn’t hide any of it. He watched the gratification flow through her, clear in her eyes while she pulsed around him. Her legs dropped, she sagged and rested her forehead flat against his chest.

Finn withdrew slowly and fisted his hand, using the other to stroke the back of her neck. Katelyn gathered her breath and finally lifted her head. Her grateful smile made his insides squeeze.

A creak. A footstep. Finn jumped away and helped Katelyn off the table. She hurriedly rearranged her skirts as Gillean ducked into the kitchen, peering about the dim room with a raised brow.

“Lady Katelyn, what are ye doing in here?”

The smell of arousal lingered in the air. Gillean had to smell it. Finn peeked at Katelyn and saw her throat work. Hell fire, had he ruined her chances of marriage? What had he been thinking?

He hadn’t.

“I was tending to Finn,” she said suddenly and smoothly. “As ye can see,” she motioned to his lip, “he has harmed himself.”

Gillean peered at Finn who clenched his jaw. He’d all but forgotten his lip. Nodding, Gillean released a slow smile, one that reminded Finn of a wolf about to pounce on his prey.

“Careless, Finn.” He clicked his tongue and turned to Katelyn. “Ye are a caring lass it seems, but he is a grown man. I am sure he can tend to himself. ‘Tis late. Can I not escort ye to yer chambers?” He offered an arm and Finn clenched the edge of the table to keep from snapping that arm off.

Katelyn remained calm. Though heat still showed in her cheeks and the tiniest bead of perspiration sat in the dip of her neck—and how he longed to lap at it—she appeared serene. He envied her composure. He throbbed with unspent tension and simmering fury. All had been so perfect until Gillean had interrupted.

She nodded and took Gillean’s arm. “I bid ye good night, Finn,” she said over her shoulder. Only he could have caught the flash of sorrow in her dazzling eyes. None knew her like he did.

“Good eve, Katelyn.” By some miracle, he managed to sound formal.

He eyed their progress up the stairs and slumped against the table when they were out of sight, both hands thrust into his hair. What had he done? Her fragrance—lavender and desire even cut through the herby air of the kitchen. Likely, he’d remember it forever. But soon enough Gillean would be the one enjoying it and where would that leave him? He had to push her out of his mind. He had nothing to offer—a distrusting broken man was no better than Laird Gillean. He slammed a fist into the wooden table. He had to conquer this need for her. What other choice did he have?

***

The woman slept silently as Tèile fluttered over her. She studied Katelyn’s relaxed features. Interesting, no need for dreams here. She already dreamed of Finn. Tèile scratched her head. Things had gone so very wrong. None of it was going according to plan and while they were clearly made for one another, too many outside influences had got in the way. Tèile was at a loss as to what to do. The
sidhe
council would be furious but as much as the council liked to think they knew everything, they never quite understood the workings of the human heart. So often, they went against their fate. It frustrated most faeries but she reckoned she had a better understanding than most. So much time in the mortal realm had taught her much, she thought with a huff.

She settled on the pillow next to Katelyn’s head. It was the first time she’d been able to rest with Katelyn. Normally the woman tossed and turned so much Tèile risked being hit or squashed. But Finn’s attentions had soothed her nightmares. Very interesting.

It was no good. She’d have to do something big. Something that would take some proper magic. She looked forward to dusting off her fingers but the risk was great. Fate could change yet again. Still, she was a green faery. Meddling was what she did. Soon she’d have this wrapped up and she could return and truly celebrate her success.

Her grin expanded when she considered how the council would react. They never really had faith in her matchmaking abilities. If she hadn’t been just a little bit naughty and played a few jokes on some of the council members, they never would have sent her here.

But she’d show them….

Chapter Seven

Stretching, Katelyn sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. She sat up abruptly when she noted the flickers of daylight seeping in through the shutters. Sweet Mary, she’d slept all night. She lifted the blankets and her chemise to study her legs. No bruises or scratches.

A hand to her lips, she felt their puffiness as she recalled the previous evening. All her dreams had been of Finn. The man had practically taken over her thoughts. Without a doubt her good night’s sleep had been down to him.

She sighed and climbed out of bed, padding across the cold wooden floor to the washbowl in front of the windows. Mae must have already been in. Clean garments and water awaited her. Katelyn flung open the shutters, pleased to note the day was fresh but clear skied. The clean scent of a new day and nature greeted her and she drew it in, chest rising with a deep inhale.

Washing quickly, she rubbed herself down with a cloth and wrapped the linen about herself. The dress Mae had placed out for her needed lacing at the back and it would be difficult to do herself. She shrugged. She’d manage though.

Linen clutched around her, she turned her attention to the open window. Several stories up, she had a good view of the surrounding countryside. Grey rocks sprouted from the ground like wild flowers and sheep mingled amongst them.

The men strode about the bailey below and she searched hard for Finn but saw no sign of his fair head and wide shoulders. Ach, she had so hoped to catch sight of him before running into him again. The previous evening had astounded her. Never before had she felt such a need for a man. Never longed for someone with a craving that made her ache all over. She needed more.

Not that she could have more. Finn was still in love with his wife and hadn’t he declared he would never fall for her? Why did she long for someone who likely only had a passing fancy for her body? Not to mention they’d nearly been caught by Laird Gillean. If he suspected anything, he never said so. Bute’s fate rested on her shoulders and she would do well to remember that. More was at stake than her overwhelming desire for Finn.

“Catriona, ye are wanton,” she told herself. She wasn’t sure when that had happened. When had she become so needy?

She slipped into her chemise and fought with her gown. She managed to do it up though probably not tightly enough. Presumably Mae had not wished to disturb her. The thoughtfulness of the maid made her smile, reminding her of her friends at home. She ran a comb through her hair and used a red ribbon to tie it into a simple braid. Picking up the polished metal mirror, she grimaced. Attractive enough, aye, but not nearly as elegant compared to the previous day. But without Mae’s help she could do no better and she did not need to attract more attention from Gillean.

She shuddered, recalling stony grey eyes and lingering touches—wildly inappropriate even if they were to be married. If her father were here he would never allow such behaviour. Catriona recalled Gillean’s cold lips on her hands and the times he’d managed to touch her, even accidentally grazing her breasts or thighs. She snorted inwardly. No doubt those accidental touches were deliberate. She’d seen that look many times and it was so very far removed from one of genuine desire and… and love?

Shaking the thought of blue eyes that
did
hold such a look—no matter how much she told herself it meant nothing—she drew up her chin and slid her feet into her dainty silk slippers. Today she needed to find a way to delay the wedding, and maintain her resolve. With a good night’s sleep behind her she felt better able to deal with whatever Gillean threw at her. Mayhap she could also persuade Lorna to send a messenger to Bute or the coast to find out what was happening.

Aye. She allowed herself a smile. It would take a messenger four days or so to get to the shoreline if he were fast. If she delayed things a wee while longer, she could send word to her father and beg for his rescue. Surely he had never intended for her to be gone this long?

A few sprigs of lavender remained on her side table so she snatched them and rubbed them against her wrists and neck before straightening her skirts. Inwardly, she steeled herself. Mayhap she shouldn’t have given into her needs the previous evening but it had given her much courage. Her bold actions had cracked through some of her fear and muted the memories. No longer did she remember filthy Viking hands. They were replaced with Finn’s knowing fingers.

 The morning meal was under way by the time she came out of her chambers and descended the stairs. Gillean sat in Finn’s usual seat, with Finn perched on the end, shoulders slumped, hair slightly rumpled, as were his garments.

Catriona came around behind him, barely resisting the urge to stroke her hand over his back, and seated herself next to Gillean. The laird watched her—she felt his gaze even as she tried to avoid it.

“Good morrow, my lady.”

“Good morrow, my laird.”

“Ye must call me Gillean.”

He wanted to call her Katelyn—that was what he was hinting at—but she couldn’t bring herself to give him permission. She assumed he would take the liberty soon enough. Why it mattered, she knew not. It was not even her name, but it kept one small barrier erected between them.

“Did ye sleep well?” he persisted as she poured a cup of ale and a servant piled her platter with fruit, cheese and sliced pork.

“Aye, well, thank ye.”

“Good. We have much to arrange this day. Lorna tells me yer gown is nearly ready and I have summoned a priest.”

This was her chance. She licked her lips. “I… I was hoping my father could be present before we said our vows.” She kept her gaze on the pewter plate in front of her.

“I see,” he said tightly. A hand grazed her thigh and then boldly curled around it. She gasped and met his gaze, eyes wide. “I imagine yer father is taken up with the attack on Bute, is he not?”

“I… I dinnae know.” Something malicious sat in his eyes. Did he know? Iciness seeped into her, chilling to the core. “He said he wished to be here for such a joyous union,” she lied.

He pursed his lips, as if considering her words. Deciding if they were the truth?

“We have a few days yet. If he is not here by then, then we can delay no longer. My lands have been untended for too long. And, of course, I am most keen to make ye my wife.” He gave her leg another squeeze, a hard one this time and she bit down on her lip.

Had that been a threat? A warning? She could not make the man out. She nodded slowly. A few days would not be long enough. She needed to find another way to delay. Or else… or else she could run, but what of Bute? She would be better marrying him and hoping her father came to her rescue. If he even bothered. Mayhap he had decided to leave her to her fate. She’d assumed his ambitions for her sister would be transferred over to her upon her death but mayhap he thought her a lost cause by now.

The strength and determination she’d felt earlier was slipping away.

Her hands grew shaky and it took all her concentration to keep her food on her eating knife. If she married Gillean, he would be no better than the Norseman.

Catriona ate little and only relaxed once the servants began clearing away the plates and scraps. She managed to attract Lorna’s attention as she stood and they met near the empty fire pit.