The Imposter

by Jenna Stone

  “Aye, this is good,” he nodded in approval and took another hearty swallow.

  My nerves hung on the edge, anticipating what I hoped would be a swift death at the hand of Nathan’s poison. Just as Nathan had explained, Cameron began to cough as if something had become lodged in his throat.

  “Are you alright?” I asked, feigning sympathy as I set down my wine glass on the small table next to the fire.

  “Aye, just got some down the wrong pipe,” Cameron said, face flushing with embarrassment. He took another deep sip of wine seeking to clear his throat. His coughing became worse and I saw in his eyes the flash of recognition as he dropped his glass. The glass shattered on the flagstone floor, spraying my skirt with wine droplets.

  “Bitch!” Cameron said angrily through gritted teeth as he fell to his knees. He knew that he had been poisoned and grasped in vain at his throat seeking to stop the coughing and gagging that resulted from the poison. His eyes were wild with fear and he lurched towards me, grabbing onto the hem of my dress.

  I kicked him away and backed into the far corner of the room, watching guiltily as he was consumed by throws of agony as the poison spread rapidly through his body. He began convulsing and he frothed at the mouth. I watched, stunned as his body began to quiet, and now was shaken only by occasional tremors. His eyes were open and glassy, but his chest still rose and fell spasmodically although his breathing was labored and irregular. Finally, his muscles clenched in a final tremor and he was silent, still. I walked cautiously over to him and knelt down, ready to spring back if he moved. I felt for a pulse and found none.

  He was dead. I had killed a man.

  I took a moment to collect myself and then coolly and mechanically followed through with the rest of Nathan’s plan, just as I had been instructed. I knew that there was no time to waste. I would deal with the consequences of my actions later if I made it out of this situation alive. I assured myself that I had only done what was necessary for Devon to survive. I had chosen to take Cameron’s life in an effort to save Devon’s, and if this meant eternal damnation, it was a price that I was willing to pay.

  It took all of my strength to heft Cameron into the enormous bed. I removed his clothes and settled the fur comforter about him, making it look as though he was sleeping.

  Alerted by the jingling in the sporran that I had discarded with his kilt, I found a large number of keys on an iron ring. I held the keys in my hand and said a prayer that one of them would lead to the place where Devon was being kept. I just knew that one of these keys would lead to Devon’s release.

  I surveyed the scene in the bedroom and tousled my hair in preparation for the next step in the plan. Holding the keys firmly in my hand, I walked confidently to the door and unbolted it. I opened the door and peeked outside, clearing my throat to draw attention of the guards. There were two of them, standing a ways down the corridor, heads bent in casual conversation. They heard me and walked briskly towards the chamber.

  “Excuse me,” I said, looking down, feigning embarrassment of a girl who had just been confirmed to be a virgin.

  “Yes, mistress? Is everything alright?” one of the men asked urgently.

  “Yes, everything’s fine. The Laird told me to tell you that he is too exhausted to leave his bed,” I said, keeping my eyes on the floor, hoping that my face was flushed appropriately.

  The guards chuckled and raised their eyebrows at each other.

  They were buying my act.

  “He asked me to bring you these keys and tell you that the McClain is free to go,” I said, extending my hand and dangling the key ring out into the hallway. “Good riddens to him, I might add,” I said for affect and then promptly closed the door.

  I collapsed against the door and waited for my breathing to return to normal. I was now fairly certain that Devon would be released, but now I had to follow through with the final stage of Nathan’s plan. The worst part of Nathan’s plan.

  I didn’t have much time and my heart thudded in my chest. I moved towards the bed and threw back the covers. I walked over to my dress, which was neatly folded on the dresser and retrieved the dirk that Devon had given me. It was concealed in the pocket of my gown and just the act of holding it in my hands made me ach with longing for Devon.

  I walked back over to the bed and pulled the dirk quickly across the sensitive skin of my inner arm, wincing in pain as blood spilled forward onto the white sheets. Nathan had instructed me to make the bed look as though Cameron had taken my virginity so as not to rouse suspicion. I smeared the blood around and tucked the dirk into the pocket of my new dress. I bound the wound on my arm with one of my stockings and pulled the bell sleeve back over it for cover.

  With my heart racing and my thoughts scattered, I lay back on the bed and pulled my skirts up around my waist. I rolled onto my side and faced Cameron, trying not to look at his glassy eyes and the vacant look on his face. I put my arms around his shoulders and was surprised to find that he was still very warm. It took all of my might to roll him on top of me and to position him between my spread thighs. The feeling of his skin against my naked flesh was repulsive, and I fought the urge to gag.

  When I was satisfied with my preparations, I let loose a blood curdling scream.

  “Help!” I yelled, “Guards! I need help!” I screamed, blood thundering.

  The doors burst open and the same two men that I had given the keys to earlier sprang into the room, eyes frantically scanning to room trying to get their bearings about what was going on.

  “He’s dead!” I screamed, “Get him off me!” I continued to scream hysterically as the men ran to the bed and pulled Cameron off of me.

  I scrambled to cover myself with my skirts as the men tried in vain to rouse their Laird.

  “What happened?” one of the men exclaimed in my general direction as he shook Cameron.

  “He woke up and wanted to… he wanted to do it again,” I tried to act demure, and reminded myself to look at the floor. “And he was on top of me, pumping away and I think that his heart exploded from the exertion,” I explained, pleased that I was able to summon some tears to look more convincing. They were not tears of sadness, but were tears of genuine fear.

  “Aye, the Laird’s dead,” the red-headed man confirmed, rolling Cameron onto his back, and glancing accusingly in my direction.

  “What are we going tae do with her?” the taller man said to his comrade. “It’s clear that the Laird took her maidenhead,” he said, eyes scanning the blood stained sheets.

  “But she’s still married to the McClain. No one else will want her after this,” he said, glancing back at the bed. “Mayhap she’s a witch if laying with her caused his heart tae explode,” he said, looking at me with disdain.

  “I don’t know what tae do with her, but go catch the McClain’s before they leave. Let her be their problem,” the red-head guard said, using a blanket to cover the Laird’s exposed privates.

  The tall guard ran from the room, the soles of his shoes running down the hall were a beautiful sound. They just might be the sound of my salvation, I thought.

  The guard pulled the fur coverlet up and over Cameron’s face, and then stood from the bed.

  “I’ll walk ye down tae the foyer,” he said, motioning for me to follow him.

  I followed silently behind him, hope beginning to build tentatively within me. I might have just pulled this off! All that I needed now was to see Devon, to know that he was safe and to keep myself from falling apart in his arms. I had a part to play, the part of an unhappy wife who had just had sex with someone else, someone other than my husband.

  As I followed the guard into the foyer, my heart soared when I say Devon, badly beaten but all in one piece, standing next to the massive entry doors. His eyes met mine, and then darted away. He was angry with me.

  We were all but thrown out of the keep and the doors clunked into place behind us. I wanted to throw myself at Devon, to capture his face in my hands and see how badly he had be
en hurt. It took every ounce of my composure to fight my instinct to kiss him, to hold him, to see if he was hurt badly.

  “Doona touch me,” he gritted angrily between clenched teeth in a voice so soft that only I could hear.

  My heart sank at the controlled anger ringing in his voice. I was so happy to see him, but I could tell that my sentiment was not reciprocated.

  We walked silently to our horses, Devon, Nathan, and I with Brennan trailing slightly behind us. I moved towards Nathan when he mounted his horse, thinking that it would be safer to ride away from the keep with him rather than Devon.

  Devon’s hand shot out possessively and grabbed my arm. His touch sent waves of electricity through my body. I looked up at him, and he swung up into Stanley’s saddle, pulling me effortlessly into his lap. I rested my head against his chest and promptly fell apart, sobs racking my body.

  There were so many things that I wanted to say to him, so many questions that I wanted to ask, but for the moment, just knowing that he was safe was enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Close to midnight, Devon dismounted as they arrived at McClain castle. He held Kate fast against his body. She felt so slight and looked so peaceful as she slept. He regarded her lovingly; now regretful of the harsh words he had spoken to her earlier. He wanted to kiss her and yet he wanted to spank her lovely behind for putting herself in danger.

  He carried her to their chamber and settled her gently on their bed. Using his dirk, he cut the fabric of the Cameron’s gown from her sleeping form, not wishing for the bastard’s possessions to be in contact with his lovely wife. Removal of the silk gown revealed a sheer barely there chemise, a garment that would surely make sleep impossible tonight. Through the thin fabric, Devon could see the pink nipples crowning her full breasts and the outline of the thatch of curls that covered her womanhood. He groaned out loud, taken aback by the torment that his woman lorded over him, even when she was asleep.

  She was lying on her side, auburn hair pooling around her full breasts. Devon ached to touch her, brave lass that she had been today. He ached to claim her as his own, make her his wife in all senses of the word. Fill her with his cock and spill his seed deep within her.

  He stripped off his shirt and kilt, letting them pool around him on the flagstone floor. Naked, he joined her on the bed, wondering if he could withstand the sweet torment of lying next to her without taking her as she slept. For the first time, he settled his naked body behind her, his front to her back, and wrapped his arm about her waist. In immediate response, she nuzzled her sweet bottom back against him, a tiny movement that almost caused him to loose all reason. If she only knew how her body affected him! He stroked his callused hands, one finger at a time, up the curve of her hips, over her perfect bottom, and through her auburn hair. She would be the death of him. It felt so good, to lie here with her, to lie with his wife, and touch her so innocently. Touching her stirred a need deep within him, and he felt his cock harden, ready to take her at the slightest invitation. Hell, he needed no invitation!

  Using every thread of discipline that he had, he held his beautiful wife while she slept. He fought off the urge to take her from behind, to wake her as he entered her slick, wet heat. She was far too tired, the role that she had played today with the Camerons had been a mighty one. He would let her rest now, and go about the business of making her his wife tomorrow. Maybe even first thing in the morning, he promised himself, causing his cock to pulse and buck against her behind.

  Devon fought his masculine instincts with every thread of will power that he was able to cling to. He had promised not to touch her until she was ready, ready to be his wife in every sense of the word. He would wait until she was ready. Wait until she was ready, even if it killed him in the process. And with that thought, he pulled Kate up snug to his chest, and tried to ignore the sweet smell of her hair and the provocations of her body. He would be a gentleman if it killed him.

  Devon awoke before the first light of morning with Kate still curled against his body, sleeping like the dead. He kissed her temple and brushed her auburn hair back from her face. She looked so innocent and beautiful while she was sleeping. Heck, she looked innocent and beautiful all the time, he admitted to himself. This brave lass had stirred feelings inside of Devon that he hadn’t known he was capable of having.

  He forced himself to slowly draw away from his wife, and quietly crept from her bed, still admiring her sleeping form as he quickly dressed and closed the chamber door behind him. There was much that needed to be done this morning, and he planned to return to their chamber in a couple of hours. She would probably still be fast asleep when he returned from his duties. He needed to brief Collin on the battle with the Camerons and speak with his men. He also needed to find Brennan and give him a tongue lashing like he had never experienced. Not only had Brennan’s stupid actions almost gotten him killed, but they had put his wife into danger.

  A tongue lashing would not be enough; Brennan might just need to be beaten within an inch of his life for putting Kate in such danger. Brennan’s negligence was not acceptable in the least.

  Devon hated the feeling of not being in control and loathed the fact that he had not been able to protect Kate, had not been able to stop her from trying to sacrifice herself in order to save him.

  He would make sure that she understood that she was never, ever to place herself into danger, even if it meant that his life would be taken. It was his job to protect her, not the other way around. Devon planned to make sure that his wife understood this message, just as soon as he kissed her senseless and drove her mad with desire. He set off about his tasks, looking forward to a quick return to his sleeping wife.

  ***

  I awoke in the early morning hours, and instantly panicked when I felt the cold bed beside me. Devon should be here, here with me. Where had he gone? I looked around the room and was relieved to see a bundle of his things next to the door. So he had been here, I thought, relaxing a little. He probably had business to attend to, I assured myself.

  “He could at least leave a note!” I said out loud to the quiet chamber, mentally cursing his insensitivity. After all we had been through I desperately wanted him here with me.

  I quickly got out of bed and resolved that I would go find him. There were so many things that I wanted to say to him, wanted to talk about. And, I wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to reassure myself that he was back in one piece. Almost losing him had been terrifying.

  I chose a blue gown that I knew suited me well and accentuated my figure in all of the right places. I spent extra time fixing my hair and even pinched my cheeks a few times to give them color before heading out to search for my husband. I planned to waste no time getting him right back here to this room, to this bed where I could finally make him my husband in every sense of the word. Having felt the terror of nearly losing him, I would not be denied again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Ye will never put yerself at risk again!” Devon thundered as he slammed the door to our chamber closed behind him, startling me.

  This is not the welcome that I had been anticipating.

  “They were going to kill you, Devon!” I yelled back, shaking now as I thought of what might have happened. I dropped the brush that I was clutching in my hand, and it clattered to the floor. I had been getting ready to go find Devon, hoping to welcome him home.

  “I told ye tae stay here, and despite Brennan’s stupidity, that’s exactly what I expected ye tae do. Ye should have stayed here, nay matter what happened,” his voice was more controlled now, but still ringing with anger.

  “I only did what I had to do to make sure that you returned in one piece,” I explained, angry now that he was being so arrogant and controlling. “It did work, Devon,” I goaded, secretly proud that I had successfully accomplished the risky scheme that had led to his safe release.

  “Aye, it did work, but when I think of what might have happened tae ye, of what ye withstood in his chamber…” he
trailed off unable to find the correct words to express his anger.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, reaching up and stroking his jaw line, relishing the feel of him, so warm and thankfully so alive. Stubble dusted his face and felt prickly beneath my fingers. I liked how he felt, and being unshaven lent him a particularly dangerous look that set my heart alight.

  My touch melted his resolve to fight, and I watched as his eyes softened.

  “Promise me that ye willna do something sae stupid again?” he asked, eyes questioning me as they glowered down at me.

  “No,” I whispered, defying him.

  Devon exhaled slowly, seeking to regain his composure. “Ye’ll be the death of me, woman,” he mumbled, shaking his head from side to side.

  “I’d do it again in a heart beat,” I vowed, pressing him to further exasperation.

  “Could ye just once listen tae me when I ask ye tae do something?” he asked, stroking my hair back from my face and securing it behind my ear.

  “Maybe someday I’ll try that,” I smiled up at him, teasing him as I leaned into his touch. “Let me look at you,” I said now, concerned as I looked up at the myriad of cuts and bruises that marred his beautiful face. The Camerons had not been kind.

  “I’m fine lass. Doona fash over me,” he said, brushing my hands away and nuzzling my neck.

  “No, Devon. I need this. I need to see for myself that you’re alright.”

  He straightened up begrudgingly, and allowed my fingers to explore him. I traced a nasty gash on his cheekbone ever so lightly and my heart tore, thinking of what he had endured.

  He reached up and took my hand, then led me silently over to the bed. He settled himself in the center and pulled me onto his lap so that I was facing him; my legs intimately straddling his waist as we sat facing each other.

  I traced the cuts on his face and skimmed my fingers over his split bottom lip, heart aching to think of the horrors that he had suffered as a prisoner of the Cameron’s. Devon had closed his eyes and he sat still as a statue, allowing me to take stock of his wounds.