Seducing the Highlander (10 page)

Robbie hesitated as if he had more to say, but instead inclined his head briefly and swung on his heel, leaving the room. His exit was fortuitous, because only minutes later Ian entered, a faint scowl on his face. He snapped out, “I just passed my irritating young cousin on the stairs. Was he—”

“He told me about Frankton’s approach,” she interrupted, her happiness fading. “Oh, Ian, I dread what might happen.”

“I’m surprised the blackguard’s death would bother you,” Ian said casually, sitting down on the bed to remove his boots. “I hope he’s enjoying his last night on this earth.”

 

 

Leanna looked so ashen, pale, her arms wrapped around her chest as if she was chilled, her eyes like dark pools. Rossie had told him once that women had the worst of it during any battle, for they were the ones who had to wait and worry over those they loved. At the time he’d been bleeding from a painful wound to the shoulder and wasn’t in the mood to believe her, but maybe it was true. Leanna wasn’t riding out to confront the English on the morrow, but while Ian looked forward to the confrontation as a means to defeat Frankton, she looked anguished over the matter.

Did Leanna love him? Apparently everyone thought so, including Robbie, damn the audacious lad, but
she
had never said the words.

For the first time, Ian wanted to hear them from a woman. In the past, he’d always severed any liaison when he sensed the direction was headed toward heartfelt declarations of that sort. He’d dallied with all sorts of females, from serving girls to fine ladies, and never once had he wanted one of them to say those discomforting three words.

Until now.

I love you
.

“You know I mean I fear for you,” she told him, her slender form bathed in the candlelight. She’d been reading, for an open book lay on the floor as if she’d risen hastily from her chair.

Ian rose and extended his hand. “Come here and demonstrate your concern.”

“You need to rest. Frankton will be here tomorrow, and I know he will bring a large force, because he would seek the advantage.”

“I need
you
,” he countered, his smile slow and deliberate. “Any warrior needs his woman before a battle. It reminds him he has something to fight for, lass. Come to bed.”

“You are trying to distract me.” She narrowed her eyes and didn’t move.

He chuckled. “What is amiss with that? I hope to distract us both. I want you to think of nothing but how I feel inside you when we lie together.”

For a moment he thought she would refuse him, but then she came forward, her slender fingers resting in his grasp as he took her hand. They kissed, softly at first, then with more urgency, and she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until it was open enough she could touch his bare chest, one fingertip grazing his flat nipple until it puckered and his breath caught deep in his throat. Ian molded her soft form to his larger body and reveled in the change in her breathing as he nuzzled her neck and inhaled her sweet fragrance.

For all his confidence that Frankton would prove a cowardly foe, there was always a risk when a man drew his sword. Tonight he would love her differently, Ian vowed, not with hotspur sexual need, but with gentle giving, though it was not his nature to go slowly.

Perhaps he could say with his body what he wasn’t ready yet to put into words.

Then his English lass surprised him. “Lie down,” she ordered in a demanding tone even Angus would obey. Ian lifted his brows, but one look at the expression on her face convinced him, as did the way she slid the robe off her slender shoulders, and he complied, lying down on the bed.

Immediately she went to work on his breeches, unfastening them to free his already stiff cock, pulling his shirt out so she could push it off his shoulders. Very lightly, she scored her nails down his bare chest and looked into his eyes. The muscles in his stomach tightened as she brushed the tip of his throbbing cock. “Perhaps I will distract you instead, my lord.”

If she even so much as walked into a room he could notice nothing else, but he didn’t say so. “Do your best, lass,” he murmured. “I am at your mercy.”

Her hand dropped lower, to touch his rampant erection between the parted material of his opened breeches. Usually Leanna was not so bold, and he sucked in a startled breath. Her cool fingers wrapped around his heated flesh. “Yes, I believe in this position you are. Shall we negotiate? If you want me, I have a few conditions.”

“Hostages do not give terms,” he managed to say, though his voice sounded thick even to his own ears. Her touch drove him to near madness.

“This one does,” she murmured, an angel clad in only a thin nightdress, her loose pale hair begging for his touch, her lashes lowered in a demure contrast to her possessive hold. “My first demand is that you be careful and anticipate treachery tomorrow.”

“Done.” He was a seasoned warrior, and a part of him was amused at her concern, and another part intrigued by her unexpected approach. “With the English,” he said in a silky tone, “I am always prepared.”

“Like now?” She stroked him, her hand gliding down his erection. “I’ve noticed. Care to hear my second condition?”

“Of course, lass.”

“You cannot get hurt.”

That he couldn’t promise, but he shamelessly did so anyway, because her caressing hand held him in thrall. “I’ll not get even a scratch.”

“And don’t let Robbie do something foolish.”

Ian gave a grunt of dissention. “Like any man could stop him from acting like a belligerent idiot.”

“I’m fond of him,” Leanna admitted. She added softly, “Not nearly as fond as I am of you, but he is a charming scapegrace and I know you love him. Keep him from harm for my sake, Ian, and also for yours.”

Damn her, she literally had him by the bollocks, her hand sliding downward to cup that sensitive sac. “I’ll do my best,” he promised sincerely, knowing he’d protect Robbie regardless of his current state of annoyance with the young rogue.

“Since you agree”—she let him go, much to his disappointment—“I think we have come to an understanding.” She pulled the ribbon on her bodice free and let the nightdress pool around her feet.

The perfection of her body never failed to give him pause, and he didn’t reach for her at once, but just admired every lush curve, every tempting hollow. When she joined him on the bed, he shed his breeches so quickly he heard the material rip, and rolled her over to her stomach so he could stroke her graceful back, trace the line of her spine and the curve of her buttocks as he kissed the nape of her neck. “I’ll take you like this first,” he said in a low, heated voice, “and make you scream your pleasure. Then you can ride me perhaps . . . and for the third time, I’ll come up with something even more inventive. Are you intrigued, Lady Leanna?”

She was, he discovered as he touched, caressed, and took her, enjoying each singular gasp, every muted moan, and, finally, her cry of surrender when she climaxed.

He was both victor and vanquished.

Which was, he decided when hours later he drifted to sleep with her damp, sated body in his arms, exactly as it should be.

T
he company glistened in the sunlight, hundreds of bayonets and swords winking as they approached. From one of the windows in the main hall, Leanna watched them advance, her gaze focused on the man who rode just behind the front line of riders. He was graceless in the saddle, his hair pale blond, his face lean and hungry like a starving wolf’s. Almost forty, going to fat in the middle, Frankton looked as she remembered him, and it was with utter and complete relief that she knew she would never have to endure his touching her.

Ever.

Angus, stocky and impassive, stood next to her, sword in hand. He murmured with precise intent, “If that bastard even looks at you, my lady, I will cut him down like a rabid dog. Aye, you have my word on it.”

Glancing over, she knew she should feel shocked at that sentiment and his language, but instead, considering Ian was out there, ready to face the encroaching horde, she was glad he was by her side. If Angus was anything, he was stalwart, and he would protect her, and she knew that was why Ian had left him behind.

Both the laird and Robbie sat almost motionless, waiting, a sea of McCray clansmen behind them. They looked impressive on their restive horses, dark, handsome, and dangerously formidable. Robbie had his hand on his sword already, his dark hair gleaming in the sun, his young face openly hostile, one expert hand controlling his mount.

Ian was different. He exerted no visible effort to keep his huge stallion quiet, sitting on the beast like a part of it, his gaze unwavering on the baron, his sword still sheathed at his side.

“Bring her out,” she heard Frankton call, his voice sending a shiver of revulsion up her spine. “If I don’t see Lady Leanna, McCray, your uncle will rot in his cell.”

The front line of English riders halted only about a hundred feet from the waiting Scottish lords, their clan filling the entire courtyard.

Robbie said something low, and Leanna saw his horse dance sideways, his sword coming out, his lethal stance unmistakably threatening and volatile.

“Don’t,” she said in a half sob to herself.

Ian, remember your promise
.

“That’s one plucky lad,” Angus murmured, grinning openly, “but not to worry. Ian will keep him in check.”

“I hope so,” she managed to whisper, so afraid for them both she could hardly breathe. “The baron isn’t known for his charitable actions and honor.”

“Nor is our Robbie for his discretion. Given how he feels about you, if he doesn’t run the baron through at once, I will be surprised.”

“Oh, God.”

“I agree,” Angus said conversationally. “It would be better if he waited and let Ian do the deed.”

Ian lifted his hand just a fraction.

“Come on, lass. We’re to just step outside the doorway, no farther. Let that English pig see what he will never touch.” Angus took her arm and escorted her to the massive front door. Two McCray clansmen, draped in their plaid and well armed, opened it. Stepping outside, Leanna stood there in the golden afternoon sunshine. Angus, with his sword drawn, was at her side.

Lifting her chin, she stared at her fiancé. He stared back, a slow, evil smile spreading across his face. Since Ian’s force was twice the number of the men he’d brought, she wondered uneasily what that smile might mean.

Though it was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sea of blue above them, thunder rumbled suddenly. Troubled, she glanced up. Neither Ian nor Robbie moved, and she realized to her dismay that it was the sound of horses and a small army spilling down the hill to the right of the castle, an impressive cloud of dust rising behind them. To her horror, she saw that to the left, as well, more cavalry came, their swords drawn.

Considering that made the baron’s opposing numbers now greater, her heart sank. She felt like the mythical Helen, launching battleships to war. Her voice was agonized. “Angus, I don’t want a bloody fight. Men will be hurt, killed. I . . . I would rather go with him and endure whatever he wishes than allow a single blow to fall.”

“Don’t worry, my lady; Ian knew perfectly well that the baron had three separate forces. And he doesn’t mean for this to come to anything other than a contest between him and Frankton. Besides”—he grinned, his small black eyes twinkling—“do you think he would let you go? And Robbie, do you picture that hot-blooded rascal allowing you to leave? I am sure he feels that if anyone besides Ian could bed you, he would be the one.”

Leanna’s cheeks flamed, though she was certain everyone knew of Robbie’s interest. “I don’t want either of them hurt.”

“They won’t be. Now watch. Look.” Angus was openly gleeful. “Ian is riding forward. Though we cannot hear what he is saying from this distance, I know he is inviting the stupid, greedy Sassenach gutter rat to settle the matter between them, just the two of them. See there: Frankton is refusing, shaking his head, skulking behind his men.”

It was true; Ian had advanced alone and sat his horse directly in the front of the advance line. He spoke again, and though she couldn’t discern the discussion, his face was impassive, his hands still on the pommel of his saddle.

Whatever Ian said must have concerned her, for the baron glanced back toward where she stood on the high steps, and the glower and fury in his expression were unmistakable. Chortling, Angus said cheerfully, “I believe our laird just informed him of his fondness for your . . . er . . . charms, my lady. See how red the beast’s face is getting. I wish I could hear him. Ian will continue to humiliate and goad him until he accepts the challenge.”

“I rather wish an entire army couldn’t hear him,” Leanna muttered. “It’s mortifying to have hundreds of men know you share the bed of a man who is not your husband.”

“He’ll marry you, lass; never fear. And how many of us with true hot passion wait until our wedding day? I know I took my Rowena before our vows were said. I couldn’t help but press her, and she understood my need
.”

Ian truly wants to marry me?
Robbie had mentioned it, but she hadn’t dared hope.

Despite the fact that two armies stood poised, and it seemed probable blood would be spilled, Leanna felt a surge of joy through her fear.

“I think perhaps Ian just informed his noble toadship that he couldn’t possibly let him take you, as you are probably breeding his child.” Angus was so obviously delighted and so openly loathed the baron that even Leanna allowed herself a small, nervous laugh. He pointed. “My lady, look—see how Frankton’s hand strays toward his sword, even though he knows better. Perhaps Ian detailed just how
many
chances there have been for his seed to take inside you.” Glancing over and seeing her pink cheeks, Angus said contritely, “Forgive me, lass, but Ian has a lusty appetite and his hunger for you is obvious to us all. You also sleep late most mornings and the two of you retire fairly early, so the assumption that he is at you all night is easy to come by.”