The Laird's Captive Wife (27 page)

‘When first I came here you took me on a tour of Dark Mount,’ she said.

‘So I did, lass.’

‘But you never did show me what lies up there, my lord.’

Iain felt his heart miss a beat. Then he grinned. ‘That can soon be rectified.’

They made the ascent and he drew the ladder up after them, before leading her deeper into the loft space. There he spread his cloak on the hay under the eaves. For a moment they faced each other. Then he knelt, drawing her down with him, closing his arms around her. He felt her mouth open to his letting him taste the sweetness beyond while her body moulded itself to his. He withdrew just long enough to unfasten his belt and tunic and discard them. Then he rejoined her, his lips grazing her cheek, moving thence to her neck and throat while his hands raised the skirts of her gown. Ashlynn moved to accommodate him and felt him lift the fabric clear and then the warmth of his hands on her skin. Her flesh tingled in response. She slid her arms around him, running her tongue along his throat, tasting its salt warmth, breathing in the erotic musky scent of the man, letting her hands explore and caress the hard muscled flesh of his back beneath the shirt. The kiss grew deeper. Her hands slid to the fastenings of his breeches and loosened them, stroking the flesh beneath, feeling the hardening response. She heard him draw in a sharp breath, then pushed him back on the cloak and sat astride him, feeling him slide into her, taking the full length of him.

Iain had fantasised about making love to her in different ways and places but the reality far exceeded the dream. Moreover, there was an expression in her eyes that he had not seen before. It was both teasing and mischievous and it sent a wave of heat through his loins. He wanted her, reached for her hips, drawing her down on him, arching into her, thrusting deeper, desperate to answer that mounting fire. Ashlynn smiled, refusing to be hurried, making him wait.

‘Ashlynn, I beg you…’

‘All in good time, my lord.’

Bending forward she brought her mouth down on his, taking the kiss at leisure before resuming where she’d left off before, moving against him with deliberate and teasing slowness, fanning the flames. Iain’s breath caught in his throat as another wave of pleasure hit him.

‘Have mercy, lass.’

She heard him groan and smiled again, a very wicked and provocative smile that did not go unnoticed. Iain gritted his teeth.

‘I warn you, my sweet, I intend to have my own back for this.’

‘Revenge again, my lord?’

‘Don’t be in any doubt about it.’

He moved deeper into her and this time she made no reply save for a long and shuddering intake of breath. Then she was moving with him, building the tempo until it ended a little later in a mutual protracted climax.

Afterwards, they lay together beneath her cloak, sharing their warmth. Ashlynn snuggled close drowsing, her head against his shoulder. He bent to kiss her forehead and tightened his arms about her, still finding it hard to believe what had passed or the extent of the pleasure he had experienced. In truth he had not thought to find this again with any woman; had not thought to feel this way again about any woman. Yet somehow it had happened and he could no longer deny it. Nor could he deny the fascination she held for him. Each time he thought he was nearer to knowing her she surprised him anew. If this was a foretaste of what was to come…It led his mind along new and delightful paths and he felt his groin grow warm again.

Ashlynn was roused from her doze a short time later by a kiss, gentle and lingering at first but becoming deeper as she roused to consciousness. His hands drew her skirt and shift upwards. Ashlynn opened her eyes, regarding him quizzically.

‘My lord?’

The dark eyes gleamed and he smiled, a deeply disturbing smile that sent a thrill of excitement the length of her body.

‘I did warn you, lass.’

‘About what?’

‘That I intended to get my own back.’

* * *

By the time they returned to the tower it was dark and the smells from the kitchen indicated that the evening meal was about to be served.

‘Now that was good timing,’ he observed with a grin.

‘Is food all you men think of?’ she replied.

‘Not all.’ He drew her hard against him for another kiss.

‘No more, my lord. I must go and change. Anyone seeing me now would think I’d been for a tryst in a hayloft.’

He shook his head. ‘Shocking how people always think the worst. Heaven knows where they get such scandalous ideas.’

She smiled. ‘I cannot imagine.’

They made their way up the stairs and, by sheer good fortune, reached the top floor unnoticed. There she left him and went to her own chamber to bathe and change her attire. Her body still burned with his love-making and every limb ached from that delicious and protracted revenge. Recalling the details she smiled to herself. Then, having hastily stripped off her clothing, she washed and donned a fresh shift and gown. With Morag’s help she combed and braided her hair with matching gold ribbons. By the time she had finished no vestige remained of the tousled wanton and in her place was the elegant and gracious hostess.

* * *

Iain noted the change and grinned as she took her place beside him at table. For a moment or two he let his gaze linger on the curvy figure beneath the golden gown, letting his memory dwell on what lay beneath. It also recalled what had passed that afternoon. When in the early days of their marriage he had dreamed of her surrender he could never have guessed that her passion would equal his own, or that she would have the power to arouse him so far.

Aware of that penetrating gaze Ashlynn kept her attention first on the food and then on her guests lest with one glance she revealed the thoughts going through her mind. However, much of the talk that evening was about hunting and, since it had actually stopped raining outside, the tone was optimistic.

‘If the cloud breaks up we might get a day yet,’ said Duncan.

‘Aye, we might.’ Iain looked at Ashlynn. ‘Do you still wish to come?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ she replied. ‘Besides, I think some fresh venison would be most welcome among our guests.’

He turned to his brother-in-law. ‘What say you to some hunting, Ban?’

‘I’d like nothing better, my lord.’

‘That's settled then.’ Iain smiled. ‘We’re due for some sport.’

‘A hart of ten?’

‘With any luck. If the weather holds up we’ll send Sim out early with his lymer and see what it can find for us. There’s not a dog with a keener nose for miles around.’

Knowing the risk now of an endless male discussion about the minutiae of hunting, Ashlynn caught Jeannie’s eye and saw an answering sympathy.

‘I am sure we all look forward to some good sport tomorrow, brother. However, for now shall we have some music?’

Ashlynn recognised her cue. ‘What an excellent idea.’

At her speaking look the suggestion was picked up and endorsed by several other ladies.

Iain smiled and submitted graciously. ‘Very well. What would you have?’

Some called for music and others a song. Much to her surprise Ashlynn saw a servant hand her husband a lute and she watched him move to a stool nearby. Then he began to tune the instrument. She had not known he possessed any musical skill. Others evidently did for his acquiescence drew applause. Then he turned to Duncan.

‘Will you favour us with a song, brother?’

Another chorus of approval greeted this, intensifying as Duncan got to his feet. It seemed the audience had a song in mind for they called out their choice most emphatically. With a laugh he inclined his head in consent. Listening attentively Ashlynn discovered that he had a good voice and he sang well to general acclaim. Then Jeannie was called upon for a rendition. Her protests availed her naught and at last she capitulated. The song was a ballad as near as Ashlynn could tell for the words were in Gaelic. The voice was strangely beautiful and arresting with an elusive quality that tugged at the heart for it seemed to her to be filled with heartache and loss. Unbidden and unheeded tears sprang to her eyes. The tune held her to the end and she joined in the thunderous applause. Glancing at Ban she could see that he too had been moved.

She had been expecting Jeannie to sit down after this but Iain said something to her and, having gained her agreement, he began to play again. However, when she sang this time he joined with her. His voice was fine and strong, a perfect complement to hers and again in the sweet Gaelic tongue. Ashlynn listened in complete amazement wondering how many more unknown facets there might be to this man she had married. When they finished the applause was tumultuous. This time Jeannie did sit down and presently her brother began another tune.

On the opening bars the conversation faded and the listeners fell silent. Iain fixed his gaze on Ashlynn and began to sing, a soft and beautiful melody that was unmistakably a love song. It wasn’t necessary to understand the words to know it. In stunned surprise she listened, held by the expression in those dark eyes that spoke more than the words. She could not have looked away even if she had wanted to. With the swift thumping of her heart came the knowledge that this was much more than a song: it was a public declaration. That understanding was followed by a moment of exquisite pain in which everything around them vanished until the room contained only the two of them and the only sounds were the lute and the voice fused in that haunting expression of love and longing. Her heart acknowledged it and in that instant understood what it had tried so hard to deny.

When eventually the song ended the silence stretched out for several heartbeats before the room erupted. With one part of her consciousness Ashlynn heard the applause wash around them, but her eyes never left his. Then she saw him smile and her breath caught in her throat. Iain handed the lute to Hamish and returned to reclaim his place beside her.

‘That was beautiful,’ she said. It was the truth, like the emotion overpowering her now. ‘I did not know you could sing.’

‘Another example of my good aunt’s training,’ he replied. ‘She was ever fond of music and encouraged the pursuit in others.’

‘Did she teach you that song?’

‘No, I knew it long before I went to France. It was one of my mother’s favourites.’

‘I see.’

He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘Indeed I hope you do, lass.’

Across the room Hamish strummed a few opening chords and launched into a rollicking tune whose chorus demanded loud audience participation, and the ensuing noise precluded further conversation.

It was much later before the singing ended and some of the guests began to take their leave.

Ashlynn expected Iain to linger as was his wont but to her surprise he accompanied her up the stairs. They strolled together along the passageway until they reached his chamber. Drawing her gently inside, he shut the door. Then he turned to face her, for a moment or two regarding her in silence.

‘There is something I would give you, Ashlynn. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.’ He reached into a pocket and drew out a small square of folded cloth. ‘This is long overdue but I hope you’ll think the wait worthwhile.’

He took her hand and placed the little package in her palm. She returned him a swift glance but his face revealed nothing. Curious now, she unwrapped the gift carefully, and then drew in a sharp breath. Inside was a ring. It was made of gold and exquisitely fashioned in an intricate pattern of love knots. For a moment she stared at it in silent wonder and then looked up at him.

‘Where ever did you get this?’

‘I had the smith make it. He does subtle work from time to time, in between his regular tasks.’

‘He is highly skilled.’

‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I’d meant you to have it long since but Ewan will not be hurried.’

‘Quite rightly,’ she replied. ‘He’s a true craftsman.’

‘You like it then?’

‘It’s beautiful, Iain.’ She extended her hand. ‘Will you do the honours?’

He took the ring and slid it on to her finger. Then he smiled faintly. ‘It fits a lot better than the last one.’

‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’

He led her to the adjoining chamber and undressed her there, before removing his own clothing. Then he followed her to bed. Mindful of the demands he had made earlier he made none now, being content just to hold her close. She felt his body curl protectively around hers and smiled, sharing his warmth until they both slept.

Chapter Twelve

T
he following morning the chief huntsman went out at dawn. He returned from the quest with the intelligence that the lymer had found red deer in the wooded depths of a neighbouring glen. Among them was the coveted prize of a hart with a ten-tined rack of antlers.

Thus it was that a large party of riders, male and female, met in the courtyard. Spirits were high and the air filled with laughter and good-humoured banter. Ashlynn, mounted on Steorra, went to join her brother. Together they cast a critical gaze over the hunting dogs, part mastiff, part alaunt, huge lean beasts with wicked fangs.

‘They look to have the strength and tenacity of the one breed and the reckless courage of the other,’ he observed. ‘If anything is going to bring a wild animal to bay, I think they will.’

‘You’re right,’ said Iain who had reined his horse in alongside. ‘Once they get the scent they don’t give up.’

Soon the company set off, riding at a steady pace, reserving the stamina of the horses and dogs until they would be required. Ashlynn could feel Steorra’s excitement. The mare longed to be off and made no secret of the fact with prancing steps and pricked ears. Like her the bigger animals were champing at the bit too. Stormwind essayed a half-rear and received a sharp word of warning from his rider in return. The big horse dropped his head and snorted in disgust. Ashlynn shot a sidelong glance at Iain and saw him slap the dappled neck good-humouredly.

‘Behave yourself, you great lummox!’ he told the horse. ‘You’ll get your chance soon enough.’

She laughed. ‘He is impatient, my lord.’