"Sweet heaven," Storm buried her face in his chest, feeling slightly ill, for now she doubted he would be able to tell her that the rest did not happen. "Then what I saw as I lay nearly unconscious could have been real," she said in a small voice. "Lady Mary and Sir Hugh might well have made frenzied love. Right there. Right at my side upon the bed where I lay bleeding and wracked with pain."
"Aye, the bastards," Tavis affirmed vehemently. "I wish I could tell ye nay, but 'tis a dark side that exists. Be thankful the animals took each other and left ye alone. Now rest, Storm. Ye'll get better quicker, and I cannae take too many nights o' holding ye without loving ye."
"Nor can I," she said softly and honestly as she closed her eyes.
It was not long before he knew she was asleep, and he wished he could do so as easily. Methodically, he catalogued each emotion that had assailed him in the past eight and forty hours and neatly explained away each one. The reason that kept trying to present itself was ruthlessly ignored for, not only did he not want it but, considering who they were, it was an impossibility.
Chapter Fourteen
"Lass, it might help to talk about what is making ye so dowie. Have your wounds healed weel? Are they bothering ye still?" asked Maggie, studying Storm's woeful face with honest concern.
"Nay, my wounds cause me nary a twinge, Maggie. They left few lasting marks either."
Another sigh escaped Storm as she watched Maggie knead her bread dough. It was cozy in the small kitchen, and the children had been bedded down or sent off, depending upon their ages, yet Storm was not able to find the lift for her spirits she had hoped for with a visit to the cheerful Maggie. A stranger to melancholy, she was finding it hard, a distasteful emotion to experience.
"Do ye miss your father and kin, lass?"
"Aye. I worry for them as well. 'Twould please me more than I can say to have some word of them, word that they are safe and sound at Hagaleah and Lady Mary's heinous plots have failed."
" 'Tis hard tae worry and nay ken I ken that weel enough, but 'tis nay all that troubles ye, is it?"
Storm shook her head. She had no worry that Maggie would reveal any confidence made to her. Deciding it might help to relate her many worries and pains to another woman, Storm lifted her eyes from the workworn surface of the table and gave Maggie a weak, slightly crooked smile. She simply could not keep it all to herself any longer.
"Nay, 'tis not. I have done a very foolish thing. I have fallen quite hopelessly in love with Tavis."
"I feared as much, lass." Maggie shook her head. "Saw it when the MacDubhs were here."
"Oh, it was well entrenched by then, though I tried to shake free of it." She shrugged.
"But 'tis nay easy when the man is there each night tae hold ye and delight ye."
"Oh, Maggie, I want my father to come home, to be safe and alive, but a part of me hates the very thought of it. When he returns I must leave Tavis." She felt suddenly choked with tears and stared down at the table again, hoping to fight them. "I think 'twill kill me."
"Now, lassie, 'tis nay a certainty that ye willnae stay here," Maggie soothed, but knew she lied.
So did Storm. "Deceiving myself as to how this will end is one thing I have not done. 'Tis bad enough that I am English, but far worse is the fact that I am an Eldon. Mayhaps if my father had other daughters, he'd care little how I ended up, but I am his only girl child. I am his firstborn. He brought me into the world with his own two hands, slapped the breath of life into me. 'Tis a bond that few fathers have with their children. I look much as my mother did, and she was the first and mayhaps the greatest love of his life. I do not think he really recovered from her loss until he found Elaine, his mistress. Nay, my father will not leave me here to keep Tavis MacLagan's sheets warm."
"What ... what if ye were tae wed Tavis?" Maggie asked, her doubt evident in her voice.
"There has ne'er been the option of marriage. For all his pretty words, Tavis has ne'er spoken of love or a future for us. If he mentions the future at all, it is to speak of when I will return to Hagaleah. Then, too, e'en if he did, would it be allowed? My father is an understanding man, but allowing his only daughter to be wed to a MacLagan could well be more than he can tolerate."
"Then, lass, all ye can do is take all ye can while 'tis there for the having."
" 'Tis what I tell myself, what I try so hard to do. Yet oftimes at night I lie awake watching him, and I hurt so knowing that 'tis but for a while. I cannot speak of my feelings for 'tis unsure I am that he feels any such thing for me, and all I have left to me is my pride. I find myself hoping that he will come to love me and work out a way for us to stay together, but there is nary a sign of that. All I can see ahead for me is such emptiness and pain. He has become such a part of me, of such importance to my life and happiness, that I just cannot bear to think of being without him. It frightens me. I am not so foolish as to think I will die without him, but of what quality will my life be?"
Maggie was prepared for Storm's tears when they came. She had heard them in the girl's voice, and had cleaned her hands of flour. Now she stepped over to Storm, put her plump arms around her and let the girl cling to her as she wept. It came easy to Maggie to mother the smaller, younger Storm. There was no thought to Storm's heritage or her far higher station. There was simply a frightened, heartsore young girl who needed some motherly comfort, something Maggie was very adept at.
"I never cry," Storm said, her voice muffled because her face was pressed to Maggie's ample bosom.
"Weel, then, it means 'tis more meaningful when ye do. 'Tis true and frae the heart of ye." Maggie handed Storm a cloth to dry her tears and poured her some ale, lacing it with whiskey. "Drink this now, lass. 'Twill stiffen ye up. Aye, I wish there was something I could say, some hearty words tae gie ye hope, but ..."
"But there are none." Storm sipped the potent concoction, deciding it was oddly tasteful. "I know that, but of late I seem to be so much less brave. Tears threatened at the slightest turn."
Those words made Maggie's eyes sharpen, and she gave Storm a thorough looking-over as the girl drank from a slightly battered tankard. Considering how long Tavis had shared Storm's bed, the thought that the girl might carry his child seemed a logical one. That the same thought had not yet really settled in Storm's mind was also evident. Maggie decided to keep her suspicions quiet. They would only add to the girl's worries and, if she was pregnant, there was little that could be done.
Storm accepted another tankard of the potent mixture while the two women talked of the similarities and differences in foods either side of the border. Storm decided as she left that visiting Maggie had been a good idea after all, for she did feel less depressed. Her greeting to Tavis as she met him leaving the keep as she was entering was blindingly cheerful.
"But, Tavis," she protested as he took her by the arm and led her back outside, "I was after a small repast."
He held aloft a covered basket. "How convenient, m'lady, it just so happens that I have a bountiful feast hidden in this basket. 'Tis my plan to find a secluded spot where we can feast and"—he looked at her with a very suggestive glint in his eyes—"talk."
"It has been a long time since we have talked," she said demurely as he set her upon his horse.
"Aye," he drawled as he mounted behind her, "but now ye are healed and I intend a verra long discussion."
Leaning against him, looking up at his face and batting her eyelashes, Storm purred, "How enlightening that should be. I much prefer long discussions to short chats."
Laughing, Tavis urged his mount to a fast trot. Standing in the bailey, his family watched them go with a mixture of emotions. It was good to see Tavis shed some of that hard, solemn air he had donned in the last few years, but they wished some other young lovely was the cause. There could only be pain at the end of the road he was now riding.
Storm rested against the hard length of the man behind her and enjoyed the ride. The countryside had a wild beauty all its own, a beauty she realized
she had come to love. If things were not bad enough, she realized she was beginning to think of Caraidland as home. It was a depressing thought and, with the lingering assistance of Maggie's tonic, Storm easily shook it away.
The spot Tavis stopped at certainly looked secluded to Storm. It was a small clearing at the edge of a stream. Trees and the gentle slope of the surrounding hills seemed to enclose it. The fact that it was so well suited for what Tavis had in mind made Storm look at him with suspicion.
"Ye can just cease looking at me like that, lass. I found this place when I was a lad, but it only just occurred to me to put it to use for—er—conversing with a lovely lass," Tavis drawled as he saw to his mount. "Do ye nay have a thinking spot at Hagaleah?"
"It used to be where ye found me with Sir Hugh. 'Twill no longer be private, I am sure."
By the time he had finished seeing to the needs of his mount, Storm had shed her shoes and stockings, hiked up her skirts and was dabbling her toes in the clear, somewhat chilly water. Strolling over to her side, Tavis thought she looked very young when in such a pose. He wondered fleetingly if she would always have that carefree air, that touch of innocence that made her so intriguing.
"Can ye swim, Storm?" he asked, looking at her sideways.
"Aye." She also glanced at him sideways, knowing he was about to suggest a swim in nature's own.
He simply quirked a brow, knowing she was fully aware of what he suggested. Storm read it as the dare it was. She looked once at the water, then at Tavis and then began to unlace her gown. It was a bold move that brought the color rushing to her cheeks, but Storm was determined to follow her own and Maggie's advice. With time so swift and so precious, she was going to enjoy what was left, pack as many experiences with Tavis as she could into each day. If nothing else, she would ensure that she was the one he never forgot.
Tavis shed his clothes slowly, his gaze never leaving Storm. He never tired of looking at her, and it was so rare for her to be bold that he relished the change, meant to miss nothing. His breath caught in his throat when she stood naked, slowly undoing her hair. He knew she was playing at being seductive and was not fully aware of how successful she was, thus making it all the more devastating. When she disappeared into the water he flung off the remainder of his clothes and went after her.
Like two children, they romped in the brisk waters of the stream. They splashed and chased each other, laughing and simply enjoying themselves. Just as Storm was beginning to think of going to shore, Tavis caught her tightly in his arms and kissed her, his feet the only ones touching bottom.
"Ye swim like the fishes, nymph," he growled as his lips traveled down her throat.
" 'Tis a skill my father taught all his children. Oh, Tavis," she groaned as his mouth reached her breasts.
"I have ne'er made love in the water," he mused as his mouth toyed with one hardened nipple.
"We should drown," she gasped as he gently suckled. "The stream is too rocky."
"Ye should ken by now, lass, that ye dinnae need to lie on your back. Wrap your arms around my neck and those lovely legs round my waist," he urged hoarsely, his need for her rapidly gaining strength.
They both gasped when he fitted them together. For a moment they stood still, kissing gently, then with an increasing passion. His hands on her hips, Tavis began to move her slowly, then faster and faster until their passion crested and they nearly collapsed into the water.
"We could have drowned," Storm said, trying not to blush as they sat wrapped in toweling on a blanket with the food spread out around them. " 'Tis a bit chill. I should get dressed."
"Nay," Tavis said softly as he handed her a glass. "Drink this. 'Twill warm ye." He touched her drying hair as she sipped the whiskey. "The sun will soon dry ye and the chill will pass."
The whiskey warmed her even as she drank it. They ate heartily, occasionally feeding each other and laughing when they fumbled. A combination of freedom, even if transitory and perhaps illusionary, and whiskey made for very high spirits. Tavis lay back with his arms crossed behind his head when the meal was done, enjoying the sun and watching Storm clear away the food.
Storm sipped her whiskey as she sat by his side and looked at him. She wondered idly why he did not look silly lying there with nothing but a cloth wrapped around his waist. What he did look like was a man she very much wanted to make love to. She wanted to run her hands over every taut inch of his lean body. Thoughtfully, she took another sip of whiskey and wondered if she dared. It was not the sort of thing a lady should do, but then, neither did a lady sit about in so little sipping whiskey with an equally undressed man, she mused.
Blushing slightly, she recalled the only other time she had taken the initiative. He certainly had seemed to appreciate it.
Storm then recalled what Lady Mary had done to Sir Hugh. Just because they did something did not make it wrong, for they had made love the same way she and Tavis did. It was simply their attitude that made it sordid. Thinking of how her caresses had so obviously pleased him that time, Storm began to wonder if that further intimacy would also please. If there was one thing Lady Mary knew, it was how to please a man. Storm felt decidedly curious. She also felt that if it was something a man liked, then she ought to do it for Tavis, the man she loved.
Tavis opened his eyes, meeting her warm, considering gaze. He recognized that still look on her face as the one she wore when she was mulling over something. As his gaze drifted over her from the gentle swell of her breasts above the cloth to her slim thighs, he decided he would ask her what she was thinking about later. Reaching up, he loosed her cloth and it fell to her hips, gathering there to give her a rather precarious modesty.
"Ye are one lovely woman, Storm," he said softly, his eyes lifting to see the color tint her cheeks. "Why so modest? Ye are beautiful and 'tis a pleasure to look at ye. I like to look at ye."
"Do ye, Tavis?" she asked softly, her hand moving to caress his chest. "What else do ye like? This?"
"Aye," he murmured as her lips and her tongue played over his mouth before she kissed him slowly.
" 'Tis hard for a woman to know what pleasures a man," Storm said musingly as she trailed kisses down to his chest. "A man learns as he grows from women he pays for or from women who have lovers to teach them. We young ladies are ne'er taught nor told a thing. How are we to know if a man likes this?" she asked huskily as her tongue played over his nipples before her mouth fastened upon one.
His hands ploughed into her thick hair as he rasped, "I cannae speak for other men but 'tis verra fine."
She moved to kneel between his strong thighs, her covering slipping off to lie unheeded on the blanket. Her tongue traced patterns down to the edge of the cloth that still encircled his hips, patterns that her kisses retraced. Every inch of his strong legs were explored by her hands, slowly and lovingly.
"And what is this, Tavis?" she whispered as her lips continued their play over his taut stomach just above the cloth's edge and she felt his hands tighten in her hair.
"A tease, m'eudail," he groaned.
Ever since the MacDubhs had visited, Tavis had thought of the magic Storm could perform with her lovely mouth and intoxicating tongue. It occurred to him that Storm was often on his mind, but he put that down to her natural expertise as a lover. The way she could pleasure a man ensured that she would be well remembered. He would not be able to forget how she could turn his blood to pure fire, make him ache more than he had ever ached for any woman.
"Mayhaps if ye tell me what ye want," Storm purred as she continued her play.
"Ye ken weel what I want, witch," he rasped.
"Is it this, acushla?"
She undid the cloth slowly. Her hand moved over the seat of his passion as her lips drifted to his thighs.
She felt him shudder as she teased and stroked, and knew the power a woman could have over a man. In her case, the power she had came back upon herself. As Tavis's passion grew so did hers, his pleasure increased her own and she surrendered to de
sire almost as quickly as he did.
" 'Od's blood, woman, ye do ken how to use those beautiful hands. Ah," he gasped as her lips brushed agonizingly close. "Storm, my Storm, maun ye torture me so? Have pity on a man."
"Do ye call this pity, Tavis?" she murmured as her lips took over the pleasant work of her hand.
"I call it heaven," he said hoarsely as pleasure closed his eyes. "Aye. 'Tis heaven."
The sharp edge of his need, a need unsatisfied as she had healed, was gone, so he had the strength of control to simply enjoy. He did not want to rush, wanted to luxuriate in the waves of pleasure flowing over him. That control nearly snapped when her lips engulfed him, performed that intimacy he had never dared ask for. His eyes flew open and he half sat up in surprise.
His violent reaction made her pause, and she peeked at him through the tangled curtain of her hair. "Nay?" she queried in a small voice, terrified she had erred badly.
"Aye," Tavis ground out, urging her back with the hands he had clenched in her hair. Sitting up, Tavis's gaze riveted to the mass of bright hair splayed over his lap. His body trembled as he fought for control. The subservient appearance of her position was a fraud, for he was at that moment her slave. Ecstasy nearly doubled him up until he knew he had reached his limit.
Storm found herself flung onto her back. Tavis's possession of her was savage as he threw himself on top of her and drove into her deeply and swiftly. After the first shock she was caught up in the ferocity of his lovemaking. It was short-lived in its violence as they crested the heights within heartbeats of each other. Her limbs lay heavily around him as he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the curve of her neck and his breath coming in harsh, shaky rasps.
In silence they parted, each moving to get dressed. There was a tension in the air that made Storm nervous. She could not help but wonder if she had done wrong. Because something gave a man pleasure did not mean he approved of a lady performing it. Storm had recognized the hypocrisy of men early in life.
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