Reckless Scotland
Page 124
Without wasting another moment, he tugged her up the stairs to the second level and onto a barely-lit landing. At the top of the next set of stairs, they veered left which she remembered led to Aaron’s chamber. She could not say why but, with each step toward the chamber door at the end of the corridor, nervousness unfurled in her belly. The soft thud of their boots echoed through the silent, darkened hallway, blending in time with the pounding cadence in her chest. She swallowed her apprehension when they paused outside Aaron’s door. Connor unlatched the metal catch, and the wooden door opened with an eerie creak.
Warmth poured from inside the chamber, the heat permeating her chilled skin through her thick clothing. Heart thundering in her ears, she remained outside the door and peeked inside the dusky room. The fire burning in the hearth across the chamber threw shadows against the opposite wall and the dark, fur-covered form lying still on the bed.
Aaron.
Her labored breaths drowned out the hiss and crackle of burning firewood. With a hand at her back, Connor nudged her forward and she took a step inside. A strong hand settled on her shoulder and pressed.
Connor ducked his head close to her ear. “Go to him, Mairi. He needs you.”
Christ, she could not help but hesitate. Though she’d yearned to see him for the past year, she never expected to encounter Aaron again. But now, faced with the certainty of setting eyes on the man she’d dreamed of for so long, near death, absolutely terrified her. Mayhap, even more so than the treacherous climb up the side of the cliff.
Digging deep for a store of courage, she sucked in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. With soft, wary steps, she padded closer to the large, oaken bed. The click of the latch rang out in the near silent chamber and she spun toward the door, surprised to see that Connor had slipped outside, leaving her alone with Aaron.
With a shaky sigh, she turned and settled her gaze on the outline of a figure beneath the furs on the bed. Saints, she could scarcely make out her hand in front of her face. Shifting closer, she spotted an unlit, half-burned candle on the small side table alongside the bed. She grabbed the iron holder and tiptoed toward the low-burning flames in the hearth and lowered the candle, lighting the wick. Straightening her stiff back, she cupped a hand around the candle’s flickering flame and shuffled closer to the bed once more.
The candle’s soft glow shone over the pile of furs covering Aaron. A jittering mess, she placed the holder on the bedside table before her shaky hands dropped the candle and set the entire room ablaze. Swiping her sweating palms over her mantle, she gave herself a mental shake. Holy Mother, what was wrong with her? Her blasted stomach twisted in knots and shudders racked her frame which had naught to do with the cold.
After another deep, fortifying breath, she eased down on the edge of the bed and reached a cautious hand for the coverlet concealing Aaron from view. As soon as her fingers touched the soft fur, she paused and bit her lip, wary of what she may find beneath the pelts. In truth, the entire situation since she’d left home that morn left her uneasy.
Saints, why was she dawdling? ’Twas not in her nature.
Squaring her shoulders, she gripped the pelt and peeled the coverlet away to reveal a head full of dark, sable hair. She slid the furs further down, exposing an expanse of bare flesh—flesh she expected to burn with fever. Frowning, she spied no signs of perspiration or flushed skin usual with the malady.
Her gaze traveled from his broad shoulders to the thick muscles of his arms, passing over the dark dusting of hair sprinkled over his chest. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. Along his side, a series of pale scars marred his otherwise smooth skin. She nearly brushed a finger over one of the old wounds but managed to restrain herself. Her gaze climbed from his belly, lingering longer than necessary on the breadth of his wide chest, to his corded neck.
When she lifted a hand to place on his forehead, she met Aaron’s clear, sleepy-eyed stare. Her lungs ceased to work. With one hand paused in the air and the other clutching the fur, her mouth dropped open in surprise.
A lazy smile lifted his full lips. “My angel.”
Stunned by the soft-spoken words, Mairi gaped like a fool at the man who had featured in her dreams for over a year. Before she could force her mouth to work, Aaron grabbed her arms and tossed her flat on her back on the bed. The next instant, the powerful form of a wholly nude male covered her from chest to toe. A squeal of alarm left her throat before his mouth crashed over hers, silencing her protest.
Chapter Three
Swept up in the dream, Aaron savored the feel of his beautiful Mairi in his arms. Unlike other eves when she visited him in his slumber, the image seemed all too real, as if he could truly feel her writhing beneath him. Her soft curves cushioned his body as he lost himself in the delicious heat of her mouth.
Christ, help him.
His fiery lass was as tempting and sweet as he remembered. The heady scent of soft skin drifted up his nostrils and swam in his head, spurring his arousal. Desperate to feel her bare flesh against his, he gripped a handful of skirts and dragged the wool fabric up a pair of long legs he craved to feel wrapped around his waist.
Heat scalded his palm as his hand slid along her smooth skin. Once his exploring fingertips neared the warm apex between her thighs, excruciating pain burst through his body, the source centered in his groin. Bellowing in agony, he fell onto his side and clutched his aching bollocks. Jolted from his dream, he cracked his eyes open, ignoring the welling tears, and forced his gaze to focus on the very real and extremely irate form of Lady Mairi MacGregor looming over him.
“You’re fortunate I did not geld you, you arse!”
“Wha—” He coughed, sputtering to draw in air through his mouth.
Shielding his male parts from her wrath, he gaped at the spitting mad woman in his bed, while his sleep-clouded mind struggled to make sense of her presence. For more than a year, he’d conjured images of Mairi in his head, envisioning her shining, raven locks draped over his pillow. But his dreams damned sure had never ended in this manner.
Wincing from the pain, he managed to sit upright, careful to keep his cods out of her reach. For several moments, he merely stared at her, confounded she was truly there within his grasp. A range of emotions flitted through his scrambling mind, spanning a wide range from joy to shame, accompanied by a shocking burst of irrational anger.
Frustrated in more ways than one, he shouted, “Why the devil are you here? And in my bed, no less?”
Mairi’s head jerked as if he’d delivered a sound slap to her cheek. In the next instant, she surged to her knees and planted her fists on the swell of her shapely hips. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
“Mayhap, you should ask your brother,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I can assure you, I damned well did not count on you mauling me.”
“Maul you?” ’Twas not as if that was his intention in the slightest. “When a willing woman slinks into my bed, what the hell else do you expect to happen?”
As soon as the words left his accursed lips, Aaron could’ve kicked himself in the bollocks once again. This time, on her behalf. A flash of pain flickered across her comely features. Her arms fell limp at her sides while her shoulders slumped in defeat.
He opened his mouth to say something—anything—that might soothe the upset his careless words inflicted, but the chamber door flung open. The force sent the sturdy planks of wood crashing into the stone wall. Startled, he whipped his head toward the entrance.
Connor, along with Lachlan and Alain, piled through the doorway only to stumble to a halt. Their gawking, incredulous features reminded Aaron he sat atop his bed, as bare as a newborn babe while clutching his male parts, with Mairi in close proximity.
Alarmed, he scrambled to snatch a fur to cover himself, but the soft pelts would not budge. Exerting his strength, he yanked with a forceful tug. The coverlet sprang free the same moment Mairi squealed and flailed her arms wildly through the air.
Sprawled on her back with her eyes screwed shut, Mairi held a hand to her head, while a pained expression wrinkled her flushed features.
Connor took a hesitant step forward. “Aaron, I do not think—”
“Not now.” He threw a harsh glare at his brother. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Connor lifted a hand. “Wait—”
“Silence, damn it!” Disregarding his brother altogether, he carefully gripped Mairi’s cheeks between his palms. “Are you all right? Say something, Mairi.”
Her beautiful, pale blue eyes cracked open, then almost popped from their sockets. Screeching and covering her face, she rolled onto her side away from him. “Sweet Mother, get that thing away from me!”
Surprised by her outburst, Aaron glanced down at himself, comprehending her source of dismay at once. He muttered a string of curses and yanked a fur from the bed, wrapping the coverlet around his nude waist. Against his better judgement, he reached for her, his fingertips barely grazing her shoulder, but she wrenched away from him.
“Just leave me alone.”
Connor muttered, “If you had simply listened to me.”
At the end of his tether with the entire disconcerting affair, Aaron exploded. “For Christ’s sake. Get. Out. Now.”
His brother and the two soldiers tripped over each other scurrying from the room. The door slammed behind them, shaking the metal latch with a jarring ring. With the fog of sleep lingering in his head, Aaron dropped his chin to his chest and attempted to grasp why the devil Mairi MacGregor was there, in his blasted bedchamber, in the first place.
On one hand, he was overjoyed to see her. In truth, the sight of her was a jolt to his senses. Yet, on the other, her unexpected presence awakened a host of feelings he’d done his damnedest to shove aside since their last ill-fated encounter.
Saints, what foul mess had Connor landed them in?
No doubt, a slew of troubles would soon darken his doorstep, namely in the enraged, hulking form of Laird Calum MacGregor. Beset with the sudden urge to bang his own head against the stone floor, Aaron heaved a deflated sigh before he peered at Mairi.
Curled in a ball on the cold, stone floor, she lay on her side with her back to him. His heart plummeted at the sight of her shaking shoulders and quiet snuffles. He reached a hand toward her but thought better of the action.
Christ, he longed for naught more than to touch her, to hold her in his arms and kiss away her tears, but ’twas impossible. He refused to torment himself in such a manner. Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet and shifted from bare foot to bare foot for a long moment.
At last, he muttered, “I’ll send someone to look at your head.”
Then, he’d find out what the hell she was doing in his keep.
Tightening the fur around his waist, Aaron grabbed his braies and tunic from the chair beside the bed and darted for the door. With his hand paused on the iron latch, he glanced over his shoulder. A multitude of words lingered on the tip of his tongue—things he’d itched to speak of since they’d parted the year before. So many things he’d kept to himself, but damned if he could force them past his ridiculous lips.
“I’m sorry, Mairi. Truly, I am.”
Instead of waiting for a response, he took the coward’s way out and slipped from the chamber, easing the door shut after him with a soft click. Outside, he slumped against the wooden entrance and hung his head. The irony of the situation hit him like a blow to the gut. The woman of his dreams had landed in his lap, and he’d never felt more miserable in his life.
A frantic hitch of laughter tumbled from his throat. His brother had no notion of the trouble he’d wrought upon them, nor the added weight he’d hurled on Aaron’s burdened shoulders. With a keep crumbling around his ears, concerns whether the stores would last throughout winter into the first harvest, and an overall disheartened clan, his back was near to bowing from the strain of worries. The last thing he needed was the brother of the woman he’d pined for, for more than a year, demanding his blasted head on a pike. Hell, he should lop it off now and save the man the hassle, but first, he was going to trounce Connor’s arse.
*
Mairi hefted herself into a sitting position and grasped her aching head in her hands. Once the lightheadedness subsided, she angrily swiped the spill of tears from her eyes. Sniffling, she snatched a corner of her plaid and wiped her drippy nose.
She’d never been so humiliated in her life. Anger burned in her belly, a fierce, incinerating anger that left a bitter taste in her mouth. ’Twas a mercy—for Aaron’s sake—he’d left the chamber when he did. Otherwise, she might’ve done far worse than kick him in his useless, wretched male parts.
Willing woman, her arse.
The appalling words continued to spin around in her pounding head. He could not have known how much the hastily-spoken insult cut her to the bone, but the damage was done all the same. Alas, the image of the man she’d erected in her mind was forever tarnished.
She was uncertain which frustrated her more—the fact she’d fallen for Connor’s deception, or that she’d wasted so much time dreaming of a man who’d turned out to be such an utter disappointment.
Damn the MacRae brothers!
Mairi managed to pick herself up from the chilled floor. She lifted a hand to prod at the base of her skull and winced at the tenderness. Shuffling to the bed, she plopped down on the edge and pondered her wretched predicament.
How the devil was she to explain the situation to Calum? He and the rest of her kin must be out of their minds with worry. Try as she might to hide her feelings, her enchantment with Aaron was hardly a secret to those closest to her. Her brother was no fool. In no time, he would’ve presumed she was with Aaron. Where else might she have gone? And who else would’ve taken her?
Saints, what if Calum and the others risked life and limb to search for her in such wretched conditions?
A loud knock resounded through the quiet chamber, yanking her from the distressing thoughts barreling around in her head. The door parted to reveal a short, stout, gray-haired woman who shuffled inside clutching a basket in her arms. A younger female with blonde hair and flushed cheeks followed close behind carrying a wooden tray laden with a pitcher and tankards.
With a scowl etched on her wrinkled face, the older woman passed a quick eye over Mairi. “I’m Gertie.” She hitched a thumb at the young blonde. “This is Kate.”
Gertie dropped her basket on the bed and reached for Mairi’s head.
Taken aback by the old crone’s abrupt manner, she waved away the woman’s grasping hands. “’Tis fine. No need to worry.”
Gertie pressed her fists on her ample hips and narrowed her beady eyes. “I’m not, but I did not rise from my bed and hobble up those stairs for naught. The laird sent for me to check your head, so…” The old woman pushed up her sleeves. “Shall we make this simple, or…”
Blinking at the forthright woman, Mairi gaped at the old crone. Was the blasted woman serious? From the daunting glimmer in Gertie’s eyes, she surmised the healer might wrangle her to the bed and have done with the task if she refused.
Suddenly overwhelmed from the frigid cold, the horrid day’s travel and, frankly, the entire doomed situation, she loosened her rigid shoulders and blew out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Gertie. I suppose I’m merely out of sorts. ’Tis been a rather trying day.”
’Twas putting the matter rather mildly in her opinion.
The old woman’s features softened a fraction. Nodding in understanding, she reached for Mairi’s head, passing her fingers over
the swollen lump. The soft prodding and poking drew a wince from Mairi.
“Aye, you cracked your head good.” Gertie paused in her ministrations and glanced over her shoulder at Kate. “Lass, grab a pouch of herbs from my basket and mix up a brew of tisane.”
“Nay, I have no wish to sleep,” Mairi protested.
Kate set the tray on the table by the bedside and poured a pouch of herbs into a tankard, mixing the concoction with water from the pitcher. “’Tis the point, my lady. A sound eve’s rest will help the pain in your head.”
Mairi narrowed her gaze at the goblet Kate passed her. Saints, the last thing she needed was to be stuck near either MacRae brother. “Nay, what I need is to be away from here, at once.”
The two women exchanged incredulous glances before turning their wide-eyed stares on her.
The young blonde’s brow furrowed. “But, my lady, ’tis a storm outside. The pass…”
“I do not think you’ll be traveling anywhere this eve, lass.” Gertie grabbed the tankard and thrust the cup at her.
She sprang to her feet and waved off the healer’s offering, sidestepping the woman. “’Tis no matter. I cannot stay her a moment longer.”
’Twas the God’s honest truth. The notion of remaining with Aaron and his deceitful brother was as appealing as a slap to the face. Worse yet, the thought of Calum, Liam, and the others out of doors in the unforgiving winter, risking their lives for her, soured Mairi’s churning stomach.
For the first time since she’d entered the chamber, concern added a layer to Gertie’s wrinkled features. Her gnarled hand grasped Mairi’s forearm. “Lass…do not be foolish. The pass is likely too treacherous, if not blocked. Even if you somehow managed the trip down without sliding off the side of the bluff, you would not survive long in the driving wind and snow. You’ll freeze to death.”
And what of her kin? She could not allow them to catch their deaths for her sake. Saints, she’d been so utterly dimwitted to believe Connor’s lies. ’Twas her failing as usual. She’d allowed her emotions to guide her actions rather than her head.