The Raven's Moon (20 page)

"It is.
Slainte
," she murmured, and rounded her lips over the leather mouth to swallow. Drawing back, she touched her tongue to her lower lip, an unconscious, languid gesture that made Rowan suck in his breath.

She tilted her head to watch him. Her eyes, shadowed under half-raised lids, were smoky gray beneath thick lashes. The luscious curves of her breasts heaved softly beneath the linen shirt as she drew in a deep breath and sighed it out. Rowan could not seem to stop his gaze from roaming over her.

She took his wrist and lifted his hand with the flask. "
Suas e, sios e."
She placed her hand over his on the flask. "That means up with it, down it. Now you." She pushed the flask toward his lips. "Drink.
Suas e, sios e."

He repeated the phrase. Mairi laughed. Her fingers over his, on the neck of the flask, were light and soft, sending a swirl of need through his body. He sipped, feeling the hot comfort of the liquor, and lowered the flask.

Mairi smiled, her eyes heavy-lidded, but Rowan frowned. She had no head for spirits, he realized. She showed the effects of the aqua vitae quickly and was more than half way drunk.

"Enough," he said, replacing the wax stopper.

"A fine physician," she repeated. "But a foul deputy. Why did you take me down?" The glistening thrust of her lower lip sent another lightning bolt through his groin.

Rowan rested his hands on either side of her hips. The feather bed sank slightly beneath them. "I did what I promised to do if you rode out again," he murmured.

"Blackdrummond always keeps his word." Her breath drifted sweet over his face, and his heart thumped heavily. He was fascinated by her soft lips and luminous eyes, by the warm scent of her in his very bed.

"Aye," he whispered.

"What will you do with me now?" Her gaze wandered over his face, returned to his mouth, flickered up to pierce his gaze.

"What should I do with you?" He watched her mouth.

She closed her eyes, lifted her face. "Mmm."

Rowan bent down, a breath away from her lips. For the space of a heartbeat he stayed, wanting her so much his body throbbed with the need. But he held still, his heart thudding.

Mairi looked at him, her eyes wide and translucent in the candlelight. Rowan had the sudden wild thought that her silver-gray eyes looked like deep water, and her fragile, beautiful soul was shining in the depths.

She placed her hand on his bare forearm. Her touch melted the last wall of his reserve, drawing him in like a river current.

"Mairi," he whispered.

"You," she whispered in turn, and lifted her good hand to pull at the neck of his jack, bringing his head down—and she touched her lips to his in a tender and unexpected kiss.

The pillow of her mouth was soft and warm, and he tasted sweetness mingled with the sting of aqua vitae. Rowan began to pull away, but Mairi sighed into his mouth and gave in to another kiss.

His heart thundered as he slanted his mouth over hers, slid his hand beneath her head to thread his fingers through the glossy silk of her hair. She circled her right arm around his neck, sighing again, softly.

Rowan cradled the delicate shape of her jaw in his hand, feeling the exquisite velvet of her skin. His fingers traced her throat as she tilted her head back, and her mouth moved under his, renewing the kiss. He knew this should stop—he knew it, and did not end it.

The neck of her shirt opened wider with her movement, and Rowan grazed his fingers along her collarbones, along her upper chest, feeling creamy skin over small bones and a steadily beating heart. The delicacy of her skin assailed him, lured him. Her body and her mouth were enticing, wondrous.

Inhaling sharply, he sat up. He was a fool—she was injured and drunk. She did not know what she was about—and she was in pain, even if she did not feel it just now.

Mairi blinked up at him as Rowan pushed his fingers through his hair, steadying his breath and calming his body.

"Rowan—"

"Hush." He touched a finger to her lips. "We should tend to your shoulder—else I will forget why you are in my bed."

She nodded, and drew open the neck of her shirt, exposing her shoulder. Rowan slid his fingers inside to round his hand there, focusing on what he must do.

Frowning, he eased his thumb carefully along the curve of her shoulder to judge the angle. Mairi pulled in a sharp breath.

He removed his hand. "I did not mean to hurt you."

She shook her head. "Not you. I cannot move my arm."

"It is out of joint. I can remedy it if you'll allow it." Good, his reserve was back. But something profound had happened between them; something was forever changed. The kiss had brought him to a new, strange place with her. He needed to find his ground there, distance himself for the good of both of them.

She turned her head and her shirt slid down, so that the upper slope of her breast, pale as down, was visible. Rowan tightened his jaw muscle against vivid images of his hands upon her, her hands up on him, bringing solace and pleasure. He concentrated on the awkward tilt of her shoulder.

"Did this happen when I pulled you from the horse?" He dreaded that he might have caused this.

"Clem Elliot tried to pull me from my horse before you were there. He grabbed my arm—so hard, and then he fell, and I pulled away to keep from falling too."

"When I saw him, he screamed that you attacked him."

"I did hit him with the pistol," she admitted.

"Ah."

"But I did not attack him! He chased me as I rode for the Armstrongs, so I struck him. I had no choice."

He nodded, sensing her sincerity, and he took her hand, readying to adjust the shoulder.

"You took me down when I had done no crime," she said.

"I would have taken you down soon or late. Better me than Clem Elliot."

"He would have ransomed me, not arrested me."

"Or worse," he answered. At the thought of what Clem might have done to her, he tightened his jaw in anger. Hearing the click of the bedchamber door, he turned his head.

His grandmother entered the room with Grace behind her. The serving maid set a bucket of water and some cloths on the wooden chest, and left when Anna motioned her out.

Anna placed a clay pot on the chest, and pushed up the sleeves of her shift. "How do we do this?"

"Sit behind her," Rowan directed. Anna slid in beside Mairi and helped the girl move to lean against her. "Hold her, and place your hands just so," Rowan said, showing her how to support the girl. He placed a knee on the bed, readying himself.

Anna braced the girl. "Lean this way, dearling. There. Lift your head. There you are."

"Love you, Anna," Mairi said, smiling. "Rowan—"

"Hush you," he said quickly.

Anna raised a brow. "She's had plenty of Danish hot water, I think," she said wryly.

Rowan nodded, focusing as he raised Mairi's left arm gently. She winced, but was so relaxed that he knew the aqua vitae had taken good effect. He judged just how he would pull and rotate. Then he nodded to Anna.

Kneeling, he rounded a hand over Mairi's shoulder girdle and braced his other hand against her upper chest. Beneath his fingers, he could feel bone and lean muscle and the steady thud of her heart.

"Relax, sweetling," Anna said to Mairi. "Our Rowan is a gentle lad." Mairi laughed.

With a sudden tug, Rowan pulled her arm down and rotated slightly upward, quickly guiding the arm into its natural position. Mairi sucked in her breath on a high cry, just as Rowan heard a distinct, meaty pop as the bone found its proper niche.

He released her arm, and Mairi uttered a deep, throaty groan, her face drained of color. She shuddered, leaning heavily against Anna.

"Mairi? Are you right, now?" Rowan placed shaking fingers on her clammy brow, alarmed.

"She's swooned, poor dove," Anna said. She shifted out from under her and laid her back on the feather-stuffed pillows. "She'll be bruised and sore tomorrow, and days after. Here, lad, pull the coverlet over her and tuck it, just there. Good."

Rowan sat again on the edge of the bed while Anna picked up the clay pot. Scooping out a fingerful of slimy brownish stuff, she smeared it over Mairi's shoulder and upper arm, and covered it with a soft bandage.

Breathing out, Rowan wiped his arm over his brow, grazing past the fading bruise on his head, still tender. He lowered his arm to see his grandmother watching him.

"Well done. You look tired," she said.

He nodded. "I'll make a pallet in the hall."

"No need. Grace readied the next bedchamber. Take that. We should not move her this night."

"Aye. Let her sleep."

"I've sent Grace out to find cold stones from the stream to apply to her shoulder. That will help the swelling. Tomorrow, hot cloths will help the pain and stiffness."

"Good," he said, standing there, staring at Mairi, feeling spent but not wanting to leave.

Anna brushed a lock of hair from Mairi's brow and glanced at Rowan. "In the morning, you'll tell me how she came by such an injury in the middle of the night, and how she was with you. For now, we're tired and we all need to sleep." She stood.

"Thank you, Granna," he murmured.

She touched his arm. "Whatever else went on between you and Mairi Macrae this night, you did well by her just now." He nodded wearily as she left.

Reaching out, he took Mairi's hand and raised her fingers to his lips. Then he went in search of a bed for the night.

Chapter 14

When cockle shells turn siller bells

And fishes flee frae tree to tree

When frost and snaw turn fire-beams

I'll come down and drink wine wi thee.

—"Jamie Douglas"

The winds of the previous night brought rain in their wake. Rowan went down the stairs the next morning, having slept later than he expected, and found the great hall quiet but for the patter of rain. Two narrow windows and the dim glow of the hearth provided meager light, as if the night had never lifted.

Mairi sat alone, enthroned in Jock Scott's elbow chair, a cushion under her left arm, in a sling, and a blanket over her legs. Eyes closed, head leaned back, she looked pale and still. Rowan noticed that her fur-lined green robe belonged to his grandfather, and the linen shift beneath that was probably his grandmother's. Her feet, peeking out from under the robe's hem, wore his spare nether stockings of brown silk and wool.

A flagon on the table undoubtedly contained Anna's cream and herb posset. He sighed. His prisoner was being coddled beneath his very roof by his own grandmother. And he was glad of it. He would have coddled her himself after last night.

But this morning he remembered the things hidden in the crypt, and the other clues, and he had to wonder if he nursed a spy in his home and his very bed.

Silently, he poured a cup of ale from the jug on the table. Resting a hip on the table edge, he watched her profile as he sipped. Rain pounded against the windows, and the fire snapped.

Then Mairi drew a breath and opened her eyes, turning her head to see him. Shadows were lavender beneath her eyes, and the tousled braid over her shoulder gave her an innocence, a vulnerable youthfulness. His heart softened a little. Spy or none, she must be in a good deal of pain.

"Give you good day," he murmured, lifting his cup. "Can I get you some morning ale?"

She groaned and shook her head, raising a hand to her face.

"How does your shoulder feel?" he asked.

"Better than my head," she muttered.

"Ah." He smiled, and smothered it with a sip. "Danish aqua vitae does have a hearty kick."

She slid him a dark scowl and covered her eyes. "Did you have to give me so much?"

"You took it like a bairn takes milk, my lass," he drawled.

Another scowl, blacker than the first, and then she blushed with a pinkness not due to the hearth's heat.

Rowan smiled into his ale. No matter his suspicions, her dark mood had its irresistible charm. Misery diluted her usual boldness. But last night she had been fierce and proud, then tender and lusty. He rather liked that changeable, unpredictable nature. He found it intriguing.