Highlander Unchained

by Monica McCarty

  Chapter 17

  Three days later, while practicing with his men for the coming battle to reclaim Breacachadh, Lachlan had his answer.

  “I’m sorry, my laird,” Allan said, standing before him, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. Lachlan knew he’d just arrived—the smell of the moors and wind still clung to him.

  Disappointment sank through him like a rock. The rescue hadn’t worked. “What happened?” he asked, steeling himself for the worst.

  “Everything went as planned. Hugh made it past the guards and smuggled in the rope to John. We were waiting for him in the birlinn below the tower as he started his descent. He was about halfway down when all hell broke loose. He’d been seen. We waited as long as possible and barely escaped without being captured ourselves.”

  They were fortunate in that. It might be suspected who was behind the rescue, but at least it couldn’t be tied directly to him.

  “And John?” His hands clenched. “What happened to my brother?”

  “They pulled the rope back up. We feared they might let him go and the fall would have killed him.”

  Thank God. He could have been the cause of his brother’s death. “I don’t understand how this could have happened. John was supposed to descend on the side opposite the watchtower—where no one could see him.”

  “He was. We found out later a guard on watch left his post to relieve himself. He happened to look up and noticed a movement.”

  Lachlan clenched his jaw. He couldn’t believe that their plan had worked only to be foiled by a man who couldn’t hold his piss.

  He could tell by Allan’s expression that there was more. Lachlan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his claymore. “What else?”

  Allan met his gaze. “Our man inside the castle did as instructed if something went wrong and found us in the village of Kinneil near the port.” He paused. “John has been taken to the pit.”

  Lachlan swore, tossing down his sword before he flung it out to sea in frustration. His brother had been moved from the tower to the pit prison—a place usually reserved for lowborn criminals. Blackness Castle had a particularly macabre feature. At high tide, the water from the sea poured through a grate, filling the bottom of the pit with icy water.

  John wouldn’t last a week.

  He wouldn’t have to. Lachlan’s fear of losing Flora had made him grasp at any straw. And now he’d made it worse. He hardened his heart and knew his options had just run out. He needed Argyll. Flora would have to understand that he had no choice.

  Marriages were arranged all the time; theirs was no different. Except they were luckier than most, for they’d found love in the bargain. He loved her. That was all that mattered. No matter how it came to be.

  Lachlan caught her in the laird’s solar from behind as he had before—except this time he did not leave anything to Flora’s imagination. After three nights of making love to him for hours on end, her body immediately filled with liquid heat.

  The days had spun by in an excited whirl and the nights steamed in passion. But as the day of the wedding drew closer, there seemed to be almost a desperate edge to their lovemaking, as if the fire that consumed them both might burn out of control. Tender and slow or rough and wild, it didn’t matter. Flora couldn’t get enough of him.

  His strong hands clasped her around her waist. She felt the granite wall of his chest against her back. Being surrounded by all that muscle and the warm masculine scent never failed to make her breath catch.

  She could feel the warmth of his breath at her ear, and she closed her eyes, allowing the familiar tingling sensations to wash over her as her body opened like a flower at his touch. He cupped her breasts and slid hot kisses down her neck. She stretched against him, savoring each exquisite sensation that he wrought from her as his hands moved over her body in swift possession.

  The rock-hard press of his erection at her bottom sent a shiver of desire running straight between her legs. The sensual haze descended around her, blocking out everything but the touch, the feel of the man behind her. She was aware of every movement, every press of his finger, every breath, every beat of his heart. He nudged her again, and she pressed her bottom against him, teasing him right back.

  She felt him work the ties of his trews, and then the cool air hit her legs as he lifted her gown over her hips. Leaning her slightly forward so that she could rest her hands on the wooden cabinet against the wall, he spread her legs.

  She could barely stand, so strong was her need for him. She could feel her own dampness gathering between her legs. She throbbed, so ready for him, she wondered if she would last before he could…

  Oh God. She groaned as she felt the heavy head of his erection sliding against her, setting off wave after wave of shaking desire. He was so wonderfully thick and hard, and she wanted him inside her. She arched her back, trying to catch him. But he was merciless, rubbing against her until she’d already started to shatter, until the sharp spasms rocked her hard against him. Only then did he slowly push himself inside.

  The feeling was incredible. She felt so full, holding him tight between her thighs. But she wanted him deeper. She bent a little more and lifted her bottom higher to accommodate him.

  He swore.

  She smiled, did it again, and all teasing was gone. Taking her hips, in one smooth motion he guided himself fully inside her, filling her to the hilt as he started to pump. He loosened her gown so he could cup her breasts.

  He sank into her faster and faster until Flora thought she was going to explode.

  “Oh God, I’m going to come,” he said tightly.

  She loved when he was like this, out of control with need for her. When he told her exactly what he was going to do to her—in every wicked detail.

  He did it right now, whispering in her ear with his rough, ragged voice as his hand slipped between her legs, pressing her most sensitive spot, sending her over the edge again, just as he started to explode inside her.

  Lachlan slid his hand down her naked breast, lingering on the precious tip as the last vestiges of their shared climax ebbed.

  He hadn’t meant to take her so roughly. Indeed, he’d sought her out for another reason altogether. But Allan’s news had shaken him, and he’d needed the soul-cleansing balm of her love.

  Sliding out of her, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear again. “I have a surprise for you.”

  She took a moment to collect her breath, before turning to face him. “Another one like that?”

  “Jade.” Though he wished divining new ways of making love to her were all he had to worry about. The failed rescue and his brother’s fate in the pit haunted him. In his effort to avoid hurting Flora, he’d made the situation worse. He knew he had to go through with his original plan, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

  Sometimes, like right now, with her eyes bright with happiness as she looked at him as if he were some kind of heroic knight in shining armor, it hurt just to look at her. Her innocent happiness ate at him. More than once, it had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her everything about his brother and the bargain he’d made with her cousin—usually at moments like this in the afterglow of their shared passion, when it seemed their love was the most indestructible. But no matter how many times he made love to her over the past few days, he still he couldn’t be sure of her reaction. Her natural stubbornness coupled with her unreasonable fear of ending up like her mother were wild cards. And he couldn’t risk his brother’s life or the safety of his clan, not when it was in his power to do otherwise.

  So the frustration and anger built inside him. Some of which, he knew, was coming out in his lovemaking. Like now, when he took her hard and rough in a maelstrom of reckless need. He knew she sensed it, not understanding what drove him to such extremes of passion. All too soon, she would know why.

  He brushed a golden wisp of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled and nuzzled her cheek into the palm of his hand.

  He felt a sha
rp pinch in his chest and had to look away. “Come,” he said, dropping his hand to step away from her. “But you’ll have to straighten your clothes first.”

  She blushed and began to work the ties of her gown that he’d nearly ripped apart in his efforts to free her breasts. Just the thought of being inside her made him hot all over again. His need was insatiable. Drowning in her heat, he could forget everything else. For a while.

  “What kind of surprise is it? Where are we going?”

  He shook his head and turned away from her naked chest. “Patience, little one. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now, if I told you, would it?”

  When she’d seen to her clothing, he took her hand and led her from the solar through the great hall and up the tower stairs.

  “You’re taking me to my chamber?”

  “Yes, though it won’t be for very much longer.” He grabbed the handle and pushed open the door, then led her through. “We’ll have to move it all over again tomorrow.”

  She gazed around at the stack of trunks piled high around the small room. “What…” Her gaze shot to him in sudden comprehension. “My clothes,” she said, stunned. “You sent for my clothes.”

  “And shoes,” he added. “Don’t forget the shoes.” Two trunks’ worth of shoes. His back still ached just thinking about it. Who knew a woman’s slippers could be so heavy? By the third level of stairs, he would have sworn the trunks were loaded with stones. “I thought you might be weary of Mary’s old gowns and—”

  But he didn’t finish because she’d hurled herself in his arms and started pressing kisses over his mouth and jaw. He knew she’d be pleased, but he hadn’t expected this effusion of sentiment. She must have missed her finery more than he’d realized. He’d never understand women’s fascination with fashion. Not that he minded right now, when he was reaping the benefits.

  “Oh, you are the most wonderful man!” She beamed. “How shall I ever thank you?”

  His mouth crooked. “I can think of a few ways.”

  She pursed her mouth playfully, her eyes bright with mischief. “I’m sure you can. But that will have to wait. At least until I’ve unpacked.” She opened the nearest trunk and started pulling out gown after gown and different parts of gowns—sleeves, foreparts, skirts, and ruffs—as fast as she could, making little sighing sounds of pleasure whenever she came across one that she particularly liked. She was like a bairn in a room fool of sweets. There were silks, velvets, wools, brocades, and satins in every color embroidered with jewels, metallic threads, and lace. He’d never seen such a wardrobe; it was fit for a queen.

  Lachlan was pleased that he’d made her so happy, but he couldn’t resist the twinge of unease when faced with such obvious signs of wealth. It had been some time since she’d worn that elaborate bridal gown to dinner; attired in Mary’s castoffs, it was easy to forget the world from which she came. Where would she wear all of this? For the yearly journey to Edinburgh when he was forced to present himself before the king?

  Watching the pile on her bed grow higher made his next surprise seem woefully inadequate.

  He walked toward the fireplace and picked up the small box he’d placed on the chair earlier. “I’ll leave you to your unpacking, then, but before I go, I have one more thing for you.”

  She placed the stack of fine linen sarks she’d removed from the trunk on the bed and turned to him. “What more could you possibly give me? You’ve already given me so much.”

  “’Tis but a small token. A gift to mark the occasion of our marriage.”

  Her face fell. “But I have nothing for you.”

  “I have all I want.” He held out the box. “Please, take it.”

  Eyeing him hesitantly, she took the box and then sat on the chair to open it. He held still as he waited for her to untie the string and lift off the top. She was looking down, so he couldn’t see her face, but he heard her gasp. Carefully, she slid one of the slippers from the box and held it up to the light. The tiny pearls and diamonds that lined the heel of the delicate silk shoe caught the flame of the fire and sparkled. “Lachlan…” Her voice was full of wonder. She turned to him with wide blue eyes. “But how?”

  He tried to hide his pleasure that his gift had pleased her. “I know it’s a tradition for the father to present shoes to the groom, but I thought since…I thought you could wear them on our wedding. I had them made in ivory since I didn’t know what color gown you would wear.”

  She slipped her delicate arched foot into the shoe and straightened her leg to admire it. It must be innate, he thought. His sisters did exactly the same thing whenever they had new shoes.

  “They fit perfectly,” she marveled. “How did you do it?”

  “I was able to salvage one of the slippers you lost in the sea; it washed up on shore the next day.”

  “But you must have ordered these some time ago. How could you possibly have known?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t. I hoped that I would eventually succeed in convincing you. Since it was a shoe that brought you to me, I thought it a fitting way to mark the occasion.”

  Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “Why, Lachlan Maclean, behind that hard-as-steel warrior’s exterior, you are a romantic.”

  He frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But his disgruntled response only seemed to amuse her further. “If you’d rather have jewelry—”

  “Absolutely not!” She tucked her feet under her protectively, as if daring him to try to take them away. “They’re the most beautiful shoes I’ve ever seen.”

  He grinned at her fearsome expression.

  “But…” She paused, and her gaze turned questioning. “They must have cost a fortune.”

  They had. Money he didn’t have. But how could he marry her without giving her something worthy of her? And it was important that he buy her something without her tocher. He took her hand and dropped a kiss atop her knuckles, staring into her eyes. “They are a gift. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

  Flora’s heart swelled in her chest, touched by the sentiment and thoughtfulness of Lachlan’s gift. She never would have imagined the harsh, forbidding man who’d abducted her would turn out to be so thoughtful. Not that she’d try telling him so. Just thinking about the way his mouth had curled with distaste at the mention of him being romantic made her chuckle. No, this was something she would keep to herself. This side of him was all for her.

  She draped her arms around his neck, stood up on her toes, and kissed him softly on his mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I will cherish them always. I only wish that I had something for you. If there is anything you desire, anything you want, name it. If it is in my power, I shall give it to you.”

  His arms had wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her a little closer. “Flora, I…”

  There was something strange in his voice. She cocked her head. “What is it?”

  His gaze bored into her intently, as if searching for something.

  “You’ve seemed preoccupied the past couple of days,” she said. “Is something bothering you?”

  “No.” He dropped his arms and shook his head, taking a step back. “The guests will be arriving soon, we won’t have much time to be alone again before the ceremony tomorrow.”

  The guests would be few, she thought with a stab of disappointment. Her cousin Argyll, her brother Rory, and only a few neighboring clan chieftains and their families. There simply hadn’t been time to send for the rest of her brothers and sisters—or her cousins Jamie and Elizabeth Campbell, for that matter.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” he said, reading her mind. “I know you wished more of your family could be here.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I know you are eager to have this finalized.” She frowned, realizing there was still one person unaccounted for. “Will your brother John arrive in time? I’m anxious to meet him.”

  He went unnaturally still, a reaction that seemed to occur whenever the subject of his brother arose. It
was strange that Lachlan never talked about John. Perhaps they’d had a falling-out, but given how close Lachlan was to Gilly and Mary, it seemed out of character.

  “I’m afraid not,” he said. “John’s been unavoidably detained.”

  “You never said where he was.”

  He paused, and she thought his jaw hardened. “Near Edinburgh.”

  “Truly?” She smiled. “I wonder if I met him at court?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Clearly, the mention of his brother had upset him. He seemed remote, distant. Taking a step toward him, she said, “Lachlan, I—”

  “I’ll leave you to your gowns,” he said roughly. “As soon as your brother and cousin arrive, I’ll send for you.”

  And before she could move to comfort him, he’d gone. Flora knew something was wrong. What she didn’t know was why he wouldn’t share it with her.

  When Flora answered Lachlan’s summons a few hours later, she felt like her old self. She wore a French gown of dark blue velvet embroidered with tiny seed pearls across the stomacher and a matching pair of shoes. Since her arrival at Drimnin Castle, she’d become accustomed to simply tying her hair back with a scrap of ribbon to hang loose down her back, but tonight she’d asked Morag to help arrange it in a complicated twist secured by a matching velvet-and-pearl cap.

  Though nowhere as extravagant as the wedding gown she’d worn a couple of weeks ago, the dress was elegant and finely made, giving her courage a much needed boost. Something she would need to face her formidable cousin and brother. Taking a deep breath, she entered the laird’s solar.

  Lachlan stood before the fire, facing her. The two other men rose as she entered. Surprisingly, the normally dour expression on her cousin’s face that had earned him his epithet, Archibald the Grim, was absent—he actually appeared to be smiling.

  She turned to the other man and drew in her breath. Though it had been years since they’d last met, she recognized him at once. Rory.