by Mary Wine
She heard him sigh, and a warm hand clasped her shoulder to turn her back around.
“I didna think that ye had never seen the ocean, but I should have, for yer father’s hold is inland.”
It was a fragile attempt at an apology, one that struck her as tender, and she suddenly realized that she was lonely for such attention. Maybe she had been intended for the church, but she had still had friends at Chattan Castle. At Birch Stone, she had only guards who watched her with suspicious eyes and women who served her while trying to decide if she would ever have any power in the clan and worried about what she thought of them.
“I heard the waves and didna know what the sound was.”
He nodded. “At least ye were wise enough to take that cloak with ye. That will be our salvation in another hour.”
He turned around and faced the cliff face. He began to pull on bushes and other plants that were covered with snow at the base of the cliff. He threw what he grabbed aside and continued to yank more out of the earth.
“I swear that I never thought to be using these cells myself.”
“Cells?”
Connor turned to look back at her. “Aye, no’ all the lairds of this castle have been merciful ones.”
He knocked a tree branch aside to reveal a large iron ring that looked as though it was set into the cliff side. Connor kicked at the ground, moving more rocks and plants until the path was clear for him to open the door.
“I’m only grateful that I didna have the door removed. I thought about it and decided it wasna wise to destroy something that might someday have a use. Even if I hoped never to condemn any soul to imprisonment here.”
“Who would put anyone in a cell on a cliff side?”
Connor struggled with the door, until at last it opened with a grinding sound. She looked up, hopeful that one of the Lindsey retainers might hear the sound up on the walls.
“With the wind blowing the sound of the surf over the walls, no one will hear us until morning when it reverses, lass. The cell was built by my uncle because he intended to keep the lairdship by any means.”
“Why did he even inherit it, when ye were alive?”
Connor offered her a hard look. “Because my parents didna wed until after my birth, and he used that fact to question my legitimacy. He took control of the Lindsey while the matter was sitting before the nobles, something he helped to ensure by making sure those powerful men knew he was nae interested in them attending to the matter quickly. That would give him time to see if fate would snuff out my life before I became a man capable of pressing the issue.”
She gasped. “Yer uncle was dishonest…”
Connor turned to look toward the cell. “Still, sleeping in the stable was warmer than this promises to be.”
Stable…
Brina covered her mouth with her hand because the hard muscles along his back suddenly impacted her as something beyond the fact that he was a Highlander. His body was hard because his life had been horribly difficult. Being labeled a bastard was a harsh thing, and it would have set him apart from others just as clearly as her undyed robe had.
“At least we shall have shelter in here.”
The last of the light washed into the cell, showing a dismal place that must have been a horrible fate for anyone condemned to it. There was a stone bed made from flat rocks piled carefully against each other, and the remains of a pallet lay curled and rotted on top of it.
“We’re in luck, it seems.” Connor stepped inside and picked up a wooden chair roughly made of large sections of wood. A center cut of a tree had been hollowed out to leave a short back on it. He swung it against the wall, and it shattered into sections. The large section of wood would burn for hours.
The ceiling of the cell wasn’t high enough for Connor to stand up straight. He arranged the broken chair pieces against the wall and reached for the rotted remains of the pallet to use as tinder.
“At least it’s small enough in here that the fire should keep us from freezing.” He opened the pouch hanging from his belt and pulled a tiny flint stone from it.
“I’ll strike the flint. Ye need to pull the door shut to keep the wind from blowing the flames out.” Brina spoke up and gained a grin from him.
“Aye, and a few of those tree limbs for green wood are better than nothing on a night such as this one promises to be.”
The wind was whipping into the cell, making it bitterly cold. Connor handed her the stone, but she had to step up onto the stone bed to allow him enough space to get back to the door. The cell was no more than four feet across and six feet deep. Brina shivered as she considered anyone who might have been locked inside it. She knelt next to the pile of wood and fabric to strike the flint against another stone she picked up from the floor. Sparks flew out, blinding bright. She hit the stone again and several more times while she heard Connor pulling a large limb inside before the door ground closed. Once the wind was blocked, the sparks caught on the dry pallet remains, yellow flames eagerly licking over the wood. Connor left the door open a few inches to allow the smoke to escape.
“At least it is dry in here.” She tried to hand back the flint, but Connor grasped her hand in his larger one.
“I’m more grateful for the fact that I went searching for ye, lass. Ye would nae have known this cell was here.”
There was too much concern in his voice for her to bear. It made it too difficult to think of him as someone she must leave. With the cell door closed, it was so tempting to huddle close to him and share the warmth of life, because the cell was a blunt reminder of just how easily the world around them might snuff out that flame.
She didn’t want to live in cold, unnoticed servitude…
“Come here, lass…”
His voice had dropped to a deep timbre that beckoned to her. He was suddenly the only spark of light in a dark wasteland. She couldn’t suffer the cold any longer, not now that she knew what his embrace felt like, and the darkness seemed to offer her a place to indulge her needs, because she couldn’t see anyone watching her.
His arms wrapped around her, but this time they didn’t bind her to him. Brina reached for his shoulders, sliding her hands over his chest until she could wrap her fingers gently around his neck beneath the collar of his doublet where it was open. She quivered as her hand met his warm skin, and she heard him draw in a stiff breath because her fingers were chilled.
“I’m sorry…”
“Do nae be.” He pressed her upper body forward to trap her arms in place when she began to withdraw her hands.
“It seems I have waited forever for ye to touch me.”
The skin of his neck was warm and soon chased the last of the chill from her fingers. She trembled because the touch felt more intimate than any she had shared with him.
“We have nae known one another very long, Connor,” she whispered, because the cell was so tiny that it made every sound louder and more noticeable. She heard his breath and could feel his heart beating beneath her forearms where they lay against his chest.
“And yet I discover that it seems like it has been a year since the last time I tasted yer kiss.”
Just the word “kiss” made her long for another one. Her heart accelerated with anticipation, while her body seemed no longer to feel the cold. The reason was Connor; he was warm and his embrace sheltering. The hand on her back gently smoothed from the center of her shoulder blades to her waist. Tiny ripples of delight spread out from the motion, and she shivered, her eyes closing so that she might become immersed in the sensations moving across her skin.
She felt his breath against her lips before he kissed her. A soft warning that sent a bolt of awareness through the delicate skin. The moment between when she felt that brush of warm air and the first touch of his mouth on hers felt like an hour. She quivered and stretched up onto her toes to gain what she desired.
&
nbsp; The contact made her knees weak, but she forced them to support her, refusing to relinquish the kiss to her inability to endure the flood of delight flowing through her body.
And it was her kiss. Connor didn’t take command of it, only tilted his head so she could press her lips fully against his. She gripped his neck tighter so that she might deepen the kiss, allowing her lips to part and the tip of her tongue to tease his lower lip.
He shuddered and his chest rumbled with a low growl. He took command of the kiss, his mouth moving across hers in a steady motion that drew a small hum of enjoyment from her lips. That sensation flowed down her body, and she felt her nipples contracting behind the pair of gowns that she wore. She didn’t seem to be close enough to him, her body yearning to be pressed even tighter against him. The sturdy wool of his doublet frustrated her, and she pulled her hands down until she could unfasten the first button. It gave with a soft popping sound.
She pulled her head back and listened to the sound of her breathing. It was agitated, and her lips were wet from his kiss. She expected Connor to follow her, and his hand clasped her nape, but his fingers merely massaged the tense muscles. It was such a gentle motion but made it impossible to think. She didn’t want to anyway. She wanted to allow the delight to continue flowing and discover how much more intense it became. Her fingers could feel his warm skin hidden behind the doublet and shirt that he wore. She pushed them inside the opening, sighing when she was rewarded with a soft sound from his lips.
It was stunning how empowering that sound was. Deep inside her, a sense of confidence rose up she had never anticipated having or enjoying so much. She smoothed her hands up to his neck again, sliding her fingers along his skin and smiling when she felt him tip his head down so that she might reach all the way to where his hair began and even up into the silky strands.
“I enjoy yer hands on me, Brina.”
The tone of his voice left no doubt that he did. She shivered as she contemplated how to touch him. The desire to please him was growing strong, and along with it came a yearning to be stroked in return. Her nipples ached. They were hard points, but not because of the temperature. Both soft globes clamored for attention from his hands, and she found herself pressing up against him in an effort to gain that contact.
“But I confess that I want to return the favor and put mine on ye.”
She shivered in response to his words, her feet refusing to remain on her toes. She sank down, her hands gliding down across the wide planes of his chest.
“Tell me to touch ye, Brina. Tell me that ye crave it and that it is nae something forced upon ye.”
Her breath caught in her throat, betraying how much she enjoyed his request. He plucked one of her hands off his chest and turned it over so that the delicate skin of her inner wrist was facing up. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against it that unleashed such a wave of need, it made her gasp.
“Ye are nae forcing me…”
“Ah… but that isna telling me to touch ye, sweet lass.” He lifted his head, and the firelight bathed his features in scarlet and orange, making him look as barbaric as the stories of wintertime liked to paint ancient warriors.
She found him fascinating…
“I… do nae know what words to use…”
He drew in a stiff breath.
“So… ye tell me… Connor…” Her words were bold, but she felt desperate to continue.
“I enjoy the sound of my name on yer lips.” The husky tone of his voice made her shiver, but it also sent her lips curving with satisfaction.
“I want to cup yer breasts in my hands and glide my thumbs over those hard nipples that ye pressed against me. Tell me ye desire that.”
“Ye could feel my nipples?”
The last word came across her lips as a mere whisper, but he chuckled as he heard it.
“I can see them too, and the sight pleases me, Brina. I’ll no’ lie about that. I want to touch them and show ye how much ye’ll enjoy having my hands on ye.”
“But why have me tell ye to do it?”
He chuckled again and kissed her wrist once more. But then he opened his mouth and grazed her skin with his teeth, bestowing a gentle bite that made her jump.
“Maybe I’ve decided to listen to ye command me for a change.”
He reached out and captured her, though, picking her up and placing her where he had stood, which was farthest from the fire. Her skirts swirled around her ankles along with the fabric of the cloak, and she felt her eyes widen as she realized how close she had been standing to the flames.
“So ye want me to command ye, but only so far as it pleases ye to have me tell ye what I wish.”
He shrugged. “There are some things about me that ye shall just have to accept as my nature, lass. I’ll always look after yer well-being, but it’s harsh of ye to think unkindly of me for that.”
“I do nae think unkindly of ye.” The words were spoken before she thought about them. “That is no’ to say that I am complacent with this plan of yers.”
There was a soft chuckle from him that sounded very much like a promise.
“By complacent, do ye mean to tell me that ye are nae ready to submit yet, Brina? Be careful, lass. I do enjoy a challenge from time to time.”
One of the smaller pieces of wood broke and fell. Connor turned to make sure that it did not roll away from the corner where he’d built the fire. He reached out and began snapping the branch into pieces. Brina stared at the demonstration of strength in his hands.
And yet he’d been so tender when touching her…
“We need to conserve our body heat.”
He turned back to face her.
“Of course, that would be wise.”
His gaze studied her for a long moment, his expression giving her no hint as to what he was thinking about. Disappointment was lashing at her for starting a conversation that had interrupted their kissing.
The word “interrupted” sent heat into her cheeks, because thinking about it in those terms meant that they would be resuming their kissing at some point.
Her nipples tingled in response to that idea.
“There is really only one way to pass the night ahead, since there is snow falling.”
He reached up and untied the lace that held the pommel of his sword at his left shoulder. Once it was free, he unlatched his wide belt so that he could set the sword aside. He placed it against the ledge where the pallet had been. His plaid was loose now, but Brina ordered herself not to blush, because his shirt was long enough to cover him down to his thighs, and it was only logical that he would use the length of wool to wrap around himself.
But even with the fire, the night promised to be too cold for their location. Wind whipped in through the space that the door was open, and it ruffled her hems, making her shiver when it touched her ankles. There was a reason that raiding was a springtime event, and that was due to the deadly reality of being out in such weather.
“We’ll have to share our body heat if we plan to survive.”
Her eyes widened even as her mind confirmed that he spoke the truth. Bran had told her such once on an afternoon that seemed so very long ago. Families often huddled together in the winter for the same reason.
“Yes, I’ve heard that said.”
“Good.” He reached forward and unlatched the cloak where it was closed around her neck. The leather closure opened easily, and he lifted the cloak off her back. She felt it become loose instantly, her arms going around herself to keep as much heat as possible.
“It will be easier if I wear this and wrap it around you.”
His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in it. Connor had raised his plaid up to cover his head, and now the deep hood of the cloak rested on top of the Lindsey colors. He shook the heavy wool out before lying down on the hard stone bed the cell afforded them. T
he scarlet light from the fire bathed him, sending her heart beating at a near-frantic rate when he lifted his arms and the wool in invitation toward hers.
“Come here, Brina, and I’ll keep ye warm.”
***
Chattan Castle
“Ye frown too much for such a sweet-looking lass.”
Deirdre turned around and scowled when she discovered just how close she was to Quinton Cameron. The man was huge, and still she’d practically walked right into his chest where he was lurking in the shadows.
“That’s on account of the fact that I am nae sweet nor a lass any longer.”
The man emerged from the shadows concealing him, and a tingle went down her back. That little sensation annoyed her completely, for it was exactly the sort of thing that she loathed about her body now.
Her flesh had a weakness toward men that would be her downfall if she failed to quell it. The fact that she was more of a woman made her notice that he wasn’t looking at her with the sort of innocent knowledge he would have sent toward her sister Kaie. No, the man was interested in taking her back into the darkness for something that lasses had no knowledge of. Quinton Cameron was a fine example of what she liked, his body large and hard, but that was exactly the sort of trap that nature enjoyed seeing women fall into, a trap she would not fall prey to again.
“So go on with ye. I have nothing kind to say to ye.”
He chuckled at her insulting words.
“I agree. Ye are nae sweet, but that does no’ stop me from wondering if yer lips taste like honey. I’m no’ a lad interested in playing the games of youth.”
“Ye’ll never know—”
He sealed out the rest of her response with a kiss that was as hard as he was. His hands bound her against him, while her body twisted and strained to escape. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders but only gained a snort from him, which died when he renewed his assault on her mouth.
His kiss was hard but not brutal. Deirdre discovered that she knew the difference, thanks to Melor, and that renewed her determination to escape from Quinton’s embrace. She raised her knee, but this man was prepared for her attack. He turned her away from him so that her knee only struck air, and she was forced to stumble to regain her balance.