He sighed deeply, turning away, staring out across the courtyard. Suddenly, she saw the dark circles under his eyes that had not been there before. And he was so weary he looked as if he might keel over at any moment.
Her heart lurched with pity. Furiously, she tried to repress it, but it lingered as she stared at the man she loved.
“It is the English officer, I was tellin’ ye about,” he said, turning back to her. “He has returned, with a big camp of men. They raided the village of Keelieock, burning the houses, pillaging.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Ravishing the women. Killing the men…”
Roseann felt a shudder of horror go through her. “Oh, by the saints!” Hastily, she made the sign of the cross. “The poor people! What brutes they are!”
A look of pain shadowed his face. “Aye, it is terrible. And the only way that I can stop him from doin’ it again, over and over, is with the help of the Laird of Lios.” He paused, gazing at her. “I had nae choice, lass. The betrothal is part of the pact, and I must have those fighting men, or else…”
Roseann nodded slowly. Her heart was still aching with sorrow, but she understood why he had made the choice he had. He was the Laird – he had to look after his people. It was his duty, and she would not have him do anything less.
“I understand,” she said quickly, taking a deep breath. “It does not mean that I am still not upset. I am terribly upset. I had hoped that one day…” She broke off, not trusting herself to speak any further.
He took a quick step towards her, and taking her hand, he said, “Aye, lass. It is what I wanted too. I want ye to be my wife. I want ye body and soul. I couldnae think of anythin’ I want more in the world.” He gripped her hand tightly, staring down at her. “But I cannae have it for the price I would have to pay…”
She nodded miserably, tears welling in her eyes again. “I suppose I should make arrangements to leave Coirecrag,” she said, her heart heavy. “It would be too painful, staying here now…”
He gripped her hand tighter. His green eyes were intense, boring into her own. “I ken I have nae right to ask it of ye,” he said slowly. “But will ye stay with me? Just for a little while longer? I daenae ken if I can bear the thought of ye leavin’…”
She sobbed. “How can I?”
He swore softly underneath his breath, gathering her into his arms, almost folding her into him. She leaned her head against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. She wanted to stay like this forever. She wanted the outside world and all its demands to go away. She wished they were the only people in the world.
“Stay,” he implored. “I need ye by my side, Roseann. I daenae ken how I can get through it all, without ye. I cannae promise ye anythin’, but I can try to put off the betrothal. Or even find a way to break it after the fact…”
Torn, she gripped him tighter. How could she stay here with this lady in residence? And yet, how could she leave him in his hour of need? She tried to repress the wild surging of hope at his words. Might they find a way against all the odds?
He tilted her face up, so she was forced to stare into his own. His eyes were questioning and blazing with hope. She gasped, lost in his gaze, as she always was.
Suddenly, they were kissing, clinging to each other as if they were drowning. Feverishly, his lips left hers, kissing her face. Her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. He gripped her tighter still, tilting her neck back so that his lips could possess it.
In a daze, they stumbled. He pushed her back against the wall of the stable, grabbing her buttocks, all the while kissing her frantically. With one swift move, he hitched her up against the wall and gathered her skirts up.
He stared into her eyes for just a moment before she felt him enter her, slamming her against the wall. She gasped, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out. Desperately, she clung to him as he raged through her like a man possessed.
His possession was so quick, and she barely had time to acknowledge what was happening. And yet suddenly, her flesh was on fire and a low burning was starting at the pit of her stomach. Dazedly, she stared over his shoulder. A part of her was desperately worried that someone would come in and catch them. But another part was getting so carried away in how it felt, and she simply did not care.
It was building. That sweet sensation, rolling over her, like undulating waves. He was thrusting harder as if he wanted to push her through the thin wooden wall.
“My love,” he whispered, his eyes on hers, not stopping for an instant. “My lass…”
Suddenly, gripping her hard, he convulsed. She felt it flood through her and gasped in wondered bewilderment. It was a different type of sensation to the ones she had before with him or even with herself, although just as powerful. This seemed to come from a source deep inside. He hadn’t even had to touch her down there to unleash it.
She realized she was sobbing quietly, so overcome, she could barely stand up anymore. It was over. Gently, he pulled away from her, so that she slid down the wall a little. She felt the loss of him so keenly, and it was all that she could do to not feverishly grip him, begging him to always stay inside her.
Gently, he pulled down her gown. Then he looked at her, a bit shamefaced. “I am sorry for taking ye so roughly. I couldnae control myself…”
She gazed at him. “Why would you apologize?” she whispered, her eyes aglow. “It was beautiful, as it always is.”
He stared at her, gently stroking her face. “Aye. It is how it is between the two of us, ye ken. It is not always so good between a man and a woman. But it seems that every time we join, it gets better. I cannae explain it, but it is that way, lass.”
She swallowed a sudden lump that had formed in her throat. She had never expected that the union between a man and a woman could be so pleasurable. Why did a lot of women moan about it, claiming it was a chore? Had they never been touched in the way that the Laird touched her?
He held her fast. “Daenae make up yer mind, yet, about what ye will do. I will try my best to break the betrothal…”
She put a finger on his lips. “Do not speak of it anymore. You must focus on your great matters at hand.” She took a deep breath. “I will stay by your side through it. If you can endure it, then so will I.”
Lady Sineag watched from the window as the beautiful dark-haired lady walked through the courtyard. She looked flushed and slightly disheveled. But almost radiant.
Walking ten paces behind her was the Laird of Greum Dubh. He, too, looked flushed.
Lady Sineag drummed her fingertips against the pane. Interesting. Very interesting, indeed.
18
Lady Sineag walked into the grand banquet hall. As she had anticipated, the people who were already assembled at the long table stopped talking, turning to stare at her. Smiling, she swept past them all to the head of the table, where the Laird of Greum Dubh was seated.
She tossed her hair back. She had timed her entrance perfectly, even sending the servant Brighde into the room before she had entered, to tell her when all were seated. She knew how to make a room stop and take notice of her.
“Lady,” said the Laird, standing up. “We thought for a minute ye were unwell and not coming…”
Lady Sineag smiled faintly. “Oh, I am sorry, Laird! Did I keep ye waitin’?”
He smiled. “It is no matter, now. Please, be seated, and we shall commence the meal.”
Sineag nodded, sweeping to the chair beside him. Everyone was still staring at her, whispering behind their hands. She tossed her hair back again. Let them look. It had taken two long hours to prepare herself, after all.
She had chosen her gown carefully, one of the best that she had brought with her. It was gold silk with tiny white flowers scattered across it and a dramatically low bodice. A dressmaker from France, no less, had made it for her, insisting it was the latest fashion at the court of King John and Queen Joan. It had also cost her father a king’s ransom.
She sat down. Slowly, talk started up again. She turned to the Laird,
preening a little, adjusting the sapphire necklace that hung low and almost nestling on top of her breasts, which had been pushed up and spilling out of the tightly boned bodice.
“Ye look lovely tonight, Lady Sineag,” the Laird said in a low voice. His eyes flickered over her. “Most impressive.”
“Why, thank ye, Laird,” she said. “It is only an old gown, but my maids tell me it becomes me.”
He leaned over closer to her. “I have been waiting keenly for yer faither to arrive with the men. It has been five days already, lady. Do ye ken why there would be a delay?” His eyes were intently fixed on hers.
Sineag gazed at him. Despite his flattery, he hadn’t even glanced down once at her breasts, which were so obviously displayed. All he wanted to talk about was when her father’s men would arrive. Just like he always did. His courting of her was all lip service. She hadn’t once felt like he was ever gazing at her like a man who finds a woman beautiful.
She sighed deeply, wondering what was wrong with her. But then, her eyes flickered to the left, seeking out the one she wanted.
Yes, there she was, sitting down the table a bit. The dark-haired lady. Amazingly, the woman was English and was at Coirecrag as a tutor to the Laird’s younger brother. Brighde, the servant girl, had told her everything.
Sineag took a deep breath, staring at her. The lady was dressed tonight in a gown of blue damask, which suited her, bringing out the milky paleness of her complexion and the amber glow in her eyes. Suddenly, she felt her own gown gaudy and showy by comparison.
Had she made a mistake in what she had chosen to wear? The English woman looked so lovely. Her name was Roseann Gibson, the daughter of an English baron, who hailed from a place near Berwick. The understated loveliness of the woman was like a slap in the face.
Her eyes flickered back to the Laird. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore, let alone waiting for an answer to his question. Instead, he was completely distracted, devouring the English lady with his eyes. He appeared almost lost.
Sineag gasped. It was an ardent look, the look of a man who was hungrily assessing a woman who he wanted to bed. But, just as quickly, he masked it, staring down at his plate. If she hadn’t caught it so quickly, she might never have known.
She gazed back at Roseann Gibson. Now, the lady was glancing at him, quickly, trying not to be overly obvious. But there was that special light in her eyes, too, before she slid them away to the person sitting next to her.
I knew it, she thought sadly.
She had suspected from the start after she had seen them walking through the courtyard. The distance between them, the fact that they didn’t walk side by side as they could have, had seemed pointed. And she wasn’t a fool – she could tell when two people were flushed from lovemaking. She had seen it often enough at Balness.
Since then, she had watched them. They were never openly together. But she had seen them staring at each other on another day. It was obvious, now, that something was going on between them. How far it had gone was conjecture, but she would bet her life that the fair Roseann Gibson was not a maiden, anymore.
Quickly, she turned to the Laird. “I have nae had a message from my faither, Laird. But he is a man of his word, and if he says that he shall be at Coirecrag with the men, then that is what shall happen.”
Domhnall glowered, roughly pulling bread apart in his hands. “I have had word that Howard’s men are moving camp, lady. They are approachin’ another of my villages, and my spy there says that they intend to attack.” He took a deep breath. “I cannae wait much longer. I will nae have another village pillaged. Yer faither’s men need to come so that we can ride there and stop it before it occurs.”
Sineag smiled tightly. “Perhaps if we announced our betrothal, Laird, and sent word to my faither of it, he would see fit to march to Coirecrag…”
Domhnall stared at her. “We will announce our betrothal soon, lady. I am just so caught up in what is happenin’ I have nae had the time, I guess.”
“Why nae now?” she said, leaning closer towards him. “Why nae stand up, and tap yer spoon on the side of yer glass, and tell them all, this very minute?”
He looked at her, his mouth falling open slightly. She had taken him by surprise, there was no doubt about that. She saw his eyes flicker with alarm.
“Of course, I could,” he said slowly. “But I daenae think it special enough, ye ken? We should plan it. A special banquet with yer faither, the Laird, in attendance. That is how we should announce our betrothal to the world, lady.”
She stared at him, her eyes filling with sudden tears. The man was completely and utterly lovesick. Besotted, with the beautiful English woman. That was the reason that he was delaying announcing the betrothal. He wanted to see if he could squirm his way out of it, while still procuring her father’s men to his cause. He was biding his time, well and truly.
She was being humiliated by the delay. The laird of Greum Dubh was clearly in love with another. He knew that he could not break the betrothal. Her father and the Laird had made a pact, and her father would see that it was honored.
She glanced quickly down the table to the English woman, again. Roseann Gibson was looking reflective, now, staring down at her plate. Was she dreaming of her lover’s hands on her? Had they made a secret assignation for tonight already?
Sineag blinked back tears. It was time that she took matters into her own hands, well and truly.
Roseann walked quickly outside the dining hall, taking a deep breath. It was crowded and noisy in there. It was also very hot. She just needed a moment to get some fresh air before she went back in. Just a moment.
She gazed up at the sky. It was navy blue, almost black, with tiny stars studded along it, glimmering like diamonds. The moon was full and hanging low in the sky, a rich, pearlescent color. It was so beautiful she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight.
Tears filled her eyes. It was so hard, doing this. It was so hard, being here, with the Lady Sineag prancing around the castle like a princess. She had told Domhnall that she would stay with him, be by his side, and she meant it. But being his secret lover, behind the back of the woman he was about to betroth, was harder than she had ever thought it would be.
He came to her, late at night, stealing into her chambers like a thief. They would make passionate love for hours before he would steal out again. During the day, they had agreed it was better if they avoided each other as much as possible. He was trying to avoid officially announcing the betrothal, and so far, it had worked.
Roseann bit her lip. She knew it could not be put off forever. The Laird of Lios had not arrived with his men. Domhnall was growing more and more anxious. Only last night, as they had lain in each other’s arms, he had told her that his spy had said the renegade English camp was on the move towards another village.
“I should go now,” he had said fiercely, scowling. “With the men I have. The longer we delay gives them time. We could ambush them, put swords through them, while they sleep…”
She had calmed him down, telling him that he could not afford to do that. He would lose all his men, and what then? Eventually, he had reluctantly agreed that it wasn’t an option. But every day, the tension grew and was brewing stronger. Tonight, he was as tightly drawn as an arrow’s bow.
She sighed, staring up at that luminous moon. The Laird of Lios was waiting for the announcement of the betrothal before he came with his men. It was obvious, even to her. And the only reason that Domhnall was delaying the announcement was because of her. She was putting everyone’s life at risk by her simple desire to be his wife.
She looked back through the window into the dining hall. Everyone was subdued. They were eating and drinking, but they weren’t laughing. Everyone knew that time was running out.
Suddenly, he looked up, staring straight at her through the window. He stared at her steadily with such a look of yearning on his face, and she had to quickly turn away, blinking back tears.
Was the cost of t
heir love simply too high?
Roseann sat back down in the banquet hall, feeling subdued. She stared down at the goose and salmon congealing on her plate. She had lost her appetite, well and truly.
Suddenly, the Lady Sineag rose to her feet, clearing her throat loudly. Everyone stopped talking and looked at her, puzzled. Even Domhnall was gazing at her with a confused expression on his face.
“I am sorry to interrupt yer meal,” she said in a clear voice, smiling. “But I have somethin’ important to say that I am sure ye all will be very glad to hear…”
Roseann’s blood ran cold. She couldn’t be, could she…?
She quickly glanced at Domhnall. The same thought had obviously occurred to him. His face had darkened, and he was rising to his feet, his eyes wide.
A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander Page 13