The Intended (36 page)

She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her
breaths short and quick as he scorched a trail of kisses down her
body. She arched her back, knowing now the sweet torture of his
lips closing around her nipple, of his tongue stroking the
stretched skin as he sucked. She didn’t have long to wait, and they
closed around her flesh, eliciting a moan from deep in her throat.
But he wasn’t done with her. When his lips left her breasts and
moved down over the sensitive skin of her belly—she grasped his
hair with both hands. And at the next moment, when his hands moved
beneath her buttocks, raising her up, when his tongue found the
soft folds of her womanhood, Jaime was certain she was about to
die.

Catherine glanced stealthily around the bend
at the young serving girl toying enticingly with the
broad-shouldered guard outside of the Highlander’s chamber door.
She couldn’t help but smile as the young woman turned coyly, giving
him the chance to draw her to him and squeeze her breasts in the
act. The servant, in turn, responded by reaching back and running a
teasing hand over the ties of his codpiece. Even from where she
stood, Catherine could tell that the guard was ready to pin the
young woman to the wall and take her right there. But she had paid
the girl too well for her to mess up the future queen’s plans.
Moving back into the shadows of the wall, Catherine watched as the
young wench whispered something in the man’s ear before breaking
away from him with a laugh.

“Though his guard duty goes until dawn, he’ll
follow in five minutes, m’lady,” the girl whispered as she broke
around the corner. “And the Highlander is alone.”

Catherine tried to hide her shiver of
excitement as she glanced down the hall. Her whole body ached for a
man’s touch—for this man’s touch. Pulling the cloak tighter around
her, she tried to contain her lustful anticipation. She’d be
writhing beneath him soon enough--she just had to be patient and
let her serving girl do her job.

“You must keep the soldier busy,” Catherine
said, with a jerk of her head in the guard’s direction. “For the
night!”

The young woman curtsied with a wry smile.
“‘Twill be my pleasure, m’lady.”

Jaime cried out in joy when he entered her at
last. Answering his thrusts with her own synchronous movements,
together they climbed to heights of pleasure that transcended all
thought, all emotion, all consciousness.

Moments later, she languorously threaded her
fingers into his tousled hair and smiled at the satisfied
expression on his face. Malcolm lay sprawled over her with his face
resting comfortably on her breasts. The rush of feeling—the ecstasy
she had felt in the splendor of their lovemaking—had been like
nothing she could ever have imagined. Jaime blinked back a tear.
She couldn’t allow the grandeur of the magical moment they’d just
shared to be spoiled by silly weeping. Over and over again Malcolm
MacLeod had taken her to the stars, letting her revel in the heat
of their radiant light, and then brought her back to earth to share
in her pleasure. And the last time—she arched her back as he rubbed
his rough cheek against her sensitive breasts—the last time had
certainly been a glimpse of paradise.

“Am I crushing you?” he asked, turning his
head and taking her nipple into his mouth.

“Aye, crushed, broken, splintered with
bliss,” she answered, sinking her fingers deeper into his hair.

His lips released her breast, and he moved up
to her neck, all the while teasing and tasting her skin.

“I just cannot get enough of you, lass,” he
growled. His hand skimmed over her ribs and came to rest on her
hip. Instinctively, she wrapped her leg around his waist. “But I
should let you rest awhile.” He took her soft earlobe into his
mouth.

“Do you remember when you asked me to have
your bairn?” She raised her hips slowly, feeling him hardening as
she moved. He lay his head on the pillow next to her. She reached
her hand between them and took hold of him. “Do you think we’ve
already planted the seed? Do you think I am already with
child?”

He raised his head and stared deeply into her
eyes. She saw love, passion, and happiness there. “How would I
know, my love?” he replied with a tender smile. “But perhaps we
should try once more—in case.”

“Aye, just in case,” she repeated
breathlessly, guiding the tip of his shaft into her opening.

Catherine watched the guard disappear down
the hall. From behind, she thought she saw the young man already
undoing his codpiece before he even disappeared into the darkness.
Pulling the hood of her cloak forward to cover her face, Catherine
leaned down and picked up the trencher of the food that the serving
girl had left behind for her. Though it was unlikely that she would
see anyone at this hour, she couldn’t allow herself to be caught by
any meddling passerby. Stepping into the light of the torch, she
moved past it toward the chamber’s entryway. The girl had passed on
to her that there was no latch on the Highlander’s door, that the
bar inside had been removed. But, for a moment, Catherine paused,
contemplating whether she should knock on his door and wait for an
invitation or just go in and surprise the handsome Highlander.

A thrill raced through her as she decided
that she liked the latter choice the best and put her hand upon the
heavy iron door handle.

Malcolm wrapped his arms around her, trying
not to break the connection of their bodies as he rolled them both
in the bed...and successfully brought her sprawling on top of him.
She was giggling as he pulled at her knees until she knelt up
straight, straddling him.

“I didn’t know we could do it this way,” she
whispered before gasping as she took him deeper into her.

He reached up and pushed her hair off over
her shoulders, cupping her breasts in his hands. “And many other
ways,” he managed to get out. She looked so stunningly beautiful,
her ebony hair long and wild, her eyes clouded with passion. Her
full, round breasts, high and proud with their nipples fully
aroused, beckoning to his touch.

Malcolm watched her move up and down on his
engorged manhood, her rhythm quickening as she rocked with
deepening moans into his carefully timed thrusts. Once again, he
was ready to pour his seed into her. Once again, he was desperate
for release.

So he closed his eyes to the beauty before
him and tried to buy some time.

The sudden sound of steps and serving women’s
voices down the corridor caused Catherine to turn in panic and
brush lightly against the thick oak door. Turning her face in
sudden panic, she considered moving off down the hall and
disappearing into the shadowy corners beyond. But she was so close
to her aim that she could not tear herself away. Reaching for the
handle, she quietly tested the door. The girl had been right—there
was no bar securing it. She quickly placed the tray on the ground
and disappeared into the room.

Appraising his son’s haggard state, the duke
of Norfolk shook his head disapprovingly.

“Just because you were advised to remain in
these chambers, Edward, you needn’t look as though you’ve been
sentenced to death.” He stalked angrily into the middle of the room
and kicked a chair out of his way. “How do you expect anyone to
think you innocent, when you yourself look as if you’ve been three
days on the rack.”

Edward ignored his father’s disdainful
attitude and got up from his chair to fill his cup. “I heard that
the king has rejected our written plea.”

The duke’s eyes locked on Edward’s profile.
“Who has been in here?”

Edward picked up the wine pitcher from the
table and filled his cup to the top. “The honorable Robert
Radcliffe, earl of Essex, your ever good friend, the Lord Great
Chamberlain.”

The duke’s scowling face darkened further
with displeasure. “When was he here?”

“Just this morning.”

“What did he want?”

“He was kind enough to tell me what my own
father does not have the courage to tell me.”

“EDWARD!”

The duke’s shout brought the younger man up
abruptly. Quickly recovering, though, he cast a sneering look at
his father and drained the wine cup. “Bah!”

“What did the Lord Chamberlain say to
you?”

Edward’s lip curled as he noticed the hint of
restraint that now marked his father’s question. “He said that any
pleading that is to be done must come from me. And I have three
days to defend myself against the ‘rumors’ that circulate about me.
If these serpents’ tongues cannot be answered, I will be presented
with a formal indictment, and they will convene the Court of the
High Steward.” Edward refilled his cup and lifted it in his
father’s direction. “And, Father, here’s to the good fortune that
you will not be a member of that court!”

The deepening color in the aging man’s face,
the clenching of his jaw, the flashing anger in his eyes—in the
past—would have been enough to stop Edward cold. But now, raising
his cup again to his lips, he gave a short, unpleasant laugh.

“You are a fool, a drunken fool!”

“Am I, Your Grace? Am I a fool to think that
you are—above everything—the king’s man? Were you not the judge in
the trial of your own niece, Anne Boleyn? Were you not the one who
so bravely told her that she was an adulteress and so therefore
must lose her head?”

“Enough, Edward!”

“But, Father, you forget yourself. Anne was
no
adulteress. She was truly innocent, and
yet you did nothing to save her life. In fact, you did your best to
assure a guilty sentence.”

“She had to die. The king wanted her
removed.”

“And you obeyed.” Edward again laughed
bitterly. “In fact you went as far as to invent...”

“The fortunes of the family were at stake,”
the duke growled.

“And so she dies.” Edward shook his head.
“So, Your Grace, does the king wish to have me removed, as well?
Does your loyalty to the king surmount all paternal bonds? Do the
‘fortunes of the family’ come before the life of your own son? Were
you, Father, the one who told the king of the treasures I’ve not
surrendered?”

“You are drunk, Edward! And you begin to
disgust me.” The duke looked disdainfully in his direction before
turning toward the door. “I tell you your future bride will arrive
by the week’s end. Once she is here and has been presented to His
Majesty as your wife
and
as his daughter, all will be
resolved—unless you are so determined to ruin everything!”

Edward gave a shrug of disbelief before
filling his cup once again.

“Get a hold of yourself, boy. She will save
your neck from the executioner’s blade. And I tell you she may be
your only chance. But you must try to act a bit more noble. By the
devil, you are a Howard, Edward!” The duke punctuated his
admonishment with a hard rap of his knuckles on the table.

“Aye, by the devil,” Edward repeated with a
bitter laugh.

The duke shook his head and stared into the
glazed eyes of his son. “And though we will use her to our profit,
remember this, Edward. Jaime is a good woman. You might pretend, at
least, to deserve her.”

The wretched beasts
, she thought.

Staring past the draped opening of the heavy
bed curtains, Catherine cursed in silence the woman’s bare back,
her buttocks lifting and descending on the Highlander’s shining
manhood. She watched his hands grasp her hips as their tempo
increased, and she longed for them to hold her that way. Catherine
couldn’t see the wench’s face—but the waves of black hair spread
over the flawless back suddenly infuriated her.

She wanted to tear the woman from his embrace
and throw her into the corridor, but she held her anger in check.
She could not expose herself. Catherine withdrew into the black
corner by the foot of the bed and waited—and watched. Letting her
eyes travel up the Highlander’s muscular legs to his straining
thighs, to the fully extended shaft at their juncture—driving again
and again into the woman. Catherine found herself quivering with
excitement, becoming moist with anticipation. Her hand slipped
inside of her cloak. She was wearing nothing beneath it, and her
fingers caressed the voluptuous curves of her breasts, circled the
hardened tip of her nipple.

She cursed the slut. She herself should be
the one riding him now. And she was ready, she thought, her fingers
sliding down over her belly and into her moist folds. She had come
here willingly to share with the Highlander a night of passion that
would pleasure them both. And here, she must wait. Oh, and he, too,
was ready—that she could see. Driving harder, again and again, and
then lifting himself off the bed and suckling the hussy’s
breasts.

Catherine fought down the moan that she heard
begin in her own throat. But there was no point in stopping them
now. As the glow of heat spread through her, she pressed her back
against the wall. But they’d better finish soon, she thought
threateningly.

The young woman’s panting cries were becoming
sharper, and Catherine’s attention was drawn, momentarily, to her.
Tomorrow, she’d have the wench whipped. Perhaps she herself would
do it. The whore’s perfect back and buttocks would carry her mark
from tomorrow onward, of that she was certain. And then she’d be
shipped to Norwich Castle—to please that vile jailer Reed and his
men. Aye, by the time they were done with her, she would be sorry
she ever looked at this man, at any man.

And him? Catherine’s eyes narrowed on his
powerful body. She’d use him. Whenever she liked. She’d demand that
he please her—again and again. And she would enjoy that. Punish him
if he failed her. She would punish him, anyway. She could already
feel his long, thick shaft inside her. How much better he would be,
after all, than Edward.