Lion's Lady

by Suzanne Barclay

  "Nay." Something in his eyes changed, as though he, too, focused on some distant hurt. "But we can begin again."

  Rowena shook her head. "Even if I wished to, which I do not, my duties are to my son and Clan Gunn."

  "We could work something out, Rowena. I want you in my life again. I need—"

  "You need. Always it is you. That much has not changed. You are still spoiled and self-serving. It happens that my life lies elsewhere, my lord," she said icily. "Circumstances have forced me to endure your company, but I will not be coerced by your soft words or bought with your foreign baubles." She plopped the cake into his outstretched palm. "Here."

  Lion frowned down at the offering. "Wroth as you seem to be with me, I wonder…is it poisoned?"

  "I'd not be so obvious." Damn, she'd lost her temper and likely the chance to teach him a lesson. "I made it earlier today, to repay you for the jewels you are so determined to foist on me. But if you do not want it…"

  "I did not say that." He peered at the cake, sniffed it, then took a wary bite. "Almond," he said, smiling.

  "Your favorite, if I recall."

  "You remembered."

  "I've forgotten nothing." She sat back and watched him as a cat might a mouse.

  "It's very good." He held it out. "Would you like some?"

  "Nay. When you accepted my gift, you agreed to take all of it." She tried to keep her smile from becoming smug.

  He took another bite. Something crunched. "What the hell?" he muttered, spewing crumbs. He spat into his hand, then gingerly poked at his teeth with his tongue.

  "Is aught wrong?" Lady Glenda asked anxiously, peering around Rowena to stare at Lion. Nor was she the only one, for suddenly everyone seemed to be looking at him.

  Rowena couldn't have been more pleased. Let them all watch and learn that she, at least, could not be bought.

  "Shells in the cake, I guess." Lion opened his hand to inspect the discarded bite. He brushed cake crumbs from the foreign lump and held it up. "Why—why it's the ring I gave you."

  "I am returning it," Rowena said.

  "You do not like it?"

  "I do not want it, and so I told you. You refused to heed me, so…" She shrugged. "I chose this way of giving it back."

  "She always was addled," Eneas sneered.

  "Ingrate," Lady Selena muttered.

  Alexander scowled. "That's what comes of coddling women."

  Rowena ignored them, her attention focused on Lion, fingers knotted in her lap as she waited for his reaction.

  Lion looked from her to the ring and back again. His shoulders began to shake. A chuckle escaped, then another and another till his laughter filled the awkward silence. "I told you she did not like the ring, Alexander," he gasped between spurts of laughter.

  Alexander snorted, but his scowl eased. "Well, my offer of a replacement still holds."

  "I guess I had best accept." Lion set the ring on the table and brushed off his hands. "Or I'll likely find the broach in my porridge come morn."

  Everyone laughed at that.

  "I do not want another ring," Rowena said beneath the din.

  Lion's smile did not falter, but his gaze sharpened even as his own voice dropped to a whisper. " 'Tis vitally important you accept Alexander's offer to choose another piece of jewelry."

  "To you, mayhap, but I do not care one wit for a—"

  "This is no whim. Lives are at stake."

  His anxiety pierced her anger. "What is going on?"

  "I cannot tell you."

  "Then I will not help. I'm done with secrets and—"

  "I must see inside Alexander's strongbox. The ruse of having you select a piece of jewelry was all I could think of."

  Rowena frowned, trying to see past his shuttered eyes. "I hate this. You've done nothing but force me into corner after corner from the moment I arrived."

  "I am sorry you see it so, lass. What I've done, I've done for your own good," he insisted.

  "And for yours."

  He smiled and shrugged, looking not the least repentant. "Our needs run in the same track."

  "Why must you be so thick skulled?"

  "Because I am right."

  Alexander stood and stretched. "Lion, come along now if you would get your lady a new bauble. I must be up early and would seek my bed."

  "Please, Rowena," Lion whispered. "This is your chance to save hundreds of men, women and bairns."

  "How?"

  "I will tell you later." Lion rose and extended his hand. "Come along, my sweet. Think of the children," he murmured.

  Rowena bared her teeth. "You do not play fair."

  "I play to win. Always remember that."

  Ignoring his outstretched hand, Rowena stood and stepped down from the dais. "I will do this, but you had better tell me what is going on, else the next cake will be poisoned."

  He only chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, sweetheart, I've missed you in more ways than I can count."

  The papers were there.

  Lion glimpsed a roll of parchment sealed with the Camp-bell crest on top of the pile in the strongbox.

  "Ah, here we are." Alexander lifted out a small chest and handed it to Lion.

  Lion took a last, quick glance at the sheaf of papers, then turned to where Rowena sat with Lady Glenda. He set the chest on the small table between their two chairs and opened it. "Pick any thing… any thing at all that strikes your fancy," he said.

  Her sharp look said she'd probably like to strike his head. As she bent to examine the jumble of rings, broaches and gold chains, Lion surreptitiously eyed the key Alexander had taken from around his neck. Did he remove the chain when he slept? If only Glenda were not so enamored of Alexander, she might have been persuaded to steal the key so Lion could have a duplicate made. That left picking the lock. Heckie had the best touch for it, but how to get him into Alexander's room?

  "This one," Rowena said firmly.

  Lion looked at the broach she held, blinked and looked again. It was undoubtedly the largest, ugliest thing he'd ever seen—a huge blob of solid silver shaped like a grotesque bird. "Is it an eagle?" he asked doubtfully.

  "I thought it looked a bit like you, my lord." Her smile was sly, appropriate to a crafty vixen bent on revenge.

  "A direct hit, my sweet," Lion said. Leaning down to pin it to her bodice, he added, "It's likely the most costly piece."

  "It seemed a fair price for you to pay."

  He straightened, still grinning. "I can see that you also play to win, my lady."

  "I am not your lady," she whispered back.

  Not yet, Lion thought, but he was determined she would be. It was not a matter of pride or willfullness. She needed him, whether she would admit it or not.

  The fragile peace between them held while he learned how much this ploy was going to cost him. After bidding good-night to Alexander and Lady Glenda, they stepped out into the corridor. Two sets of guards, a pair each of Sutherlands and Gunns, came away from their posts at opposite sides of the door.

  "All has been quiet, my lord," Naill Sutherland said.

  "Doubtless because we were here," said Kier Gunn, glaring equally at Naill and at Lion.

  "Thank you, lads, I'm sure the sight of four of you lurking in this dreary hallway would make anyone think twice about lingering. Come, my lady, I'll see you to your room."

  "We can do that, my lord," Kier grumbled. He was a large man, younger and more vocal than his brother, Dun-more. Both had the red-brown hair of the Gunns and fierce expressions. They had made it clear they did not trust him within an arm's length of their lady. Their protectiveness was amusing and reassuring, but they needed to understand that he was not going away.

  "I am counting on you to safeguard the lady when I cannot be about," Lion said evenly. "But I'm here now, and I'd not rest easy did I not see her to her door."

  Rowena touched his arm. "Really, it is not necessary."

  "To me, it is." Lion took her arm and led the way down the gloomy corridor. T
he crunch of four pairs of booted feet echoed after them. "If we're going to travel about in a pack like this, I'd best engage a piper and a minstrel," Lion murmured.

  Rowena chuckled. "It is a bit much, but Finlay meant well and I—I like having them here."

  "So you need not rely on my men?"

  "It is nothing against them. I like Sim especially, but…"

  "I understand." Lion gently squeezed her elbow. "We are much alike in this. Neither of us wants to be controlled by another, no matter how well meaning."

  "If you understand that, then why have you forced me into this mock betrothal?" she grumbled.

  "You know why, and it does not have to be a sham."

  "Aye, it does." She stared straight ahead for several paces, her expression stark. What inner demons did she wrestle with? he wondered. "Did you find what you needed in the strongbox?"

  "Shh. Sounds echo in these hallways, and you cannot tell who is listening at the doors you pass by."

  "What a terrible place. What an awful way to live." Rowena shivered, and he instinctively held her closer.

  "I will not mind leaving here at all," he confessed.

  "When will you go?"

  "When my work is done, my ends accomplished."

  "What work? What are you trying to do?"

  Lion shook his head in silent warning just as they reached her chamber. "Ah, here we are." He opened the door and whisked her inside before she could say a word. As he closed the portal, he cut off Dunmore Gunn's protest.

  "What—?" Rowena exclaimed.

  Lion pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. She stiffened, then went pliant, her hands sliding around his neck to tangle in his hair. Her lips parted with a sigh that sent his pulse rattling like a minstrel's drum. Groaning, he accepted her invitation to deepen the kiss. Her tongue was as shy as it had been years ago, the first time he'd showed her how far a kiss could take them. That small sign of maidenly resolve tempered his hunger as nothing else could.

  Instantly, Lion reined in the greed that surged though him. This was Rowena, his precious one, more fragile than even she realized. He gentled his kisses, coaxing and soothing. He liked the skittishness, the telling mix of eagerness and hesitancy. For whatever reason, she'd not found fulfillment in Padruig Gunn's bed.

  But she would in his.

  This he vowed as he ran his hands down her back, delighted by her tiny shivers as she pressed herself against him. She felt so good, her shape familiar yet different, the coltish angles of girlhood ripened into womanhood. Beyond the physical, there were other changes, too. She was stronger, wiser, more serious. And even more stubborn. Winning her would not be easy, but it would be worthwhile, he thought as he wooed her with a tenderness he'd not felt in years.

  I should be fighting him, Rowena thought dimly as his hands and mouth worked their old magic on her senses. If she resisted, she knew he'd release her. She should kick and scream and bite to keep him at bay, but she couldn't. Even as her defenses crumbled, part of her reveled in the sensations his kisses evoked in her.

  It had been like this from the first. He alone roused in her an overwhelming hunger that could be eased only by his touch. When he'd left, she'd rooted out that desire and killed it. Or so she'd thought. But as his kisses turned achingly tender, old needs fought their way past the carefully erected barricades of hatred and mistrust. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. She closed her mind to past deeds and future fears and simply lived in the present Lived for this moment.

  She could feel passion build, her breasts swelling against the hard wall of his chest, her bones melting as the heat swept through her. The exquisite throbbing built in the secret core of her. She shifted, seeking to ease the ache. His hand slid down her spine, lifting her so they fit together. Hard to soft.

  Groaning, he lifted his mouth from hers and buried it in the sensitive curve of her neck. "Rowena. Ah, Ro, it is the same. The same as it always was."

  She shivered and leaned into him, struggling for breath, for sanity. It was the same…but it wasn't. It could never be. They could never be. "Please go," she whispered. Go before I give in and am forever damned.

  "Ro?" He lifted her chin and stared down at her, his expression anguished in the faint light from the fire in the hearth. "What is it? Why do you shut me out when I know damned well—"

  "You know why. My obligation, my life is with Paddy."

  The light faded from his eyes. He dropped his arms and walked toward the hearth, shoulders bowed. Never had she seen him look so dispirited. "We could work this out if you would—"

  "Nay. I gave my word to raise Paddy among the Gunns, and that is what I must do."

  He braced his hands on the mantel, body trembling as he came to grips with her statement, then he turned. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw square. "I am not giving up."

  "You must."

  "I lost you once. I'm not doing it again. We will find a way to be together." He knelt and scooped up a basket from beside the hearth. It was small, covered by a gray cloth. "I'd nearly forgotten," he said, smiling in one of those quicksilver mood shifts of his. "I've another gift for you."

  "I do not want any more jewels or clothes or—"

  He thrust the basket into her hands. "It is none of those things." As he eased off the cover, a small head poked out, ruffled orange fur framing large yellow eyes.

  "It's—it's a kitten."

  "Aye." He stroked the downy head with one large forefinger. "Four weeks old, Heckie reckons. Way too young to be orphaned."

  "Orphaned," Rowena echoed. She lifted the kitten out. Instead of settling in her hand, it clawed at her palm and sank its teeth into her thumb. "Ouch!"

  Chuckling, Lion gently pried the teeth from her flesh. "Look here, imp, this is your mama now, and she'll be unlikely to keep you in warm milk if you behave so ungratefully."

  The kitten stared at him owlishly.

  "She's had a rough life, you see," Lion said. He took the cloth from the basket, draped it over Rowena's hands, then resettled the kitten in the makeshift nest.

  "Where did you find her?"

  "In the stables, just before dinner. When we rode in from the search, a MacPherson's horse struck down her mama and her brother. The mother cat was moving her litter, I think. Anyway, I went looking and found this one in a back stall. She's old enough to drink milk from a bowl, but not to fend for herself, especially in such a place as this."

  "Poor thing." The kitten had curled up in her palm, and Rowena gently stroked its back.

  "There's milk in a pitcher on the windowsill."

  Rowena nodded. Paddy would love the kitten—the only gift he'd ever have from his father. Tears burned the back of her eyes. It wasn't fair. Not fair at all. Lion would have made a wonderful father. If only—

  "You aren't thinking of baking her into a cake, are you?"

  Rowena chuckled. "Nay." Blinking away her tears, she looked up at Lion. He stood close, too close. Despite the distraction of the kitten, the room still sizzled with tension.

  She couldn't give in to it. She couldn't.

  Long after the castle had finally quieted for the night, Lion lay awake in bed, thinking of Rowena. And her son.

  Padruig Gunn's son.

  Though it was surely a sin for which he'd burn in hell, he disliked the lad, sight unseen.

  It was not only a sin, it was…dishonorable.

  Lion gritted his teeth and stared up at the bed hangings stitched with the proud arms of the Shaws. The crest, and likely these drapes themselves, had been handed down from one generation to another. The Sutherlands, too, had their traditions, their family heirlooms. His father's sword, for instance.

  It would come to him one day. And he'd pass it along to his son. Therein lay the crux of the problem. He was jealous, pure and not so simple. Jealous of Padruig's son. The lad should have been his—his and Rowena's.

  If, somehow, he managed to win her over and they had a son, a lad to inherit the Sutherland estates, would he still
resent her firstborn?

  Lion wanted to believe he was a better man than that. He thought of his parents and the tangled skein of their lives.

  Before wedding Lucais Sutherland, Lion's mother, Elspeth, had been wed to Raebert Munro, an abusive brute who had died in a fire. Raebert had sired a bastard child on Lucais's mistress. To save the babe from being ostracized, Lucais had claimed wee Gillie as his own. To this day, few knew that she was not a Sutherland, but the daughter of a man both Elspeth and Lucais had hated. Yet they'd raised the lass with love and devotion.

  He could do that, Lion thought. If Rowena would give him a chance to meet the lad and get to know him, he'd get over this ridiculous, unknightly dislike of the boy. Wouldn't he?

  Was that why Rowena refused to think they might work this out? Did she sense he was jealous of her son?

  Of course she did. Did he not freeze up and change the subject every time the lad's name was mentioned?

  Lion clenched his jaw. He would master these stupid, unreasoning feelings. He loved Rowena. He would love her son. Together, they would make a family, a life.

  A grating noise dragged him to instant wakefulness.

  Was it Bryce coming to bed?

  Nay, the sound came from the window—a subtle whisper of rope on rock. Someone was climbing about outside his room.

  Lion grabbed the knife from under his pillow and stole out of bed just as a set of grubby hands clasped the windowsill. A dark head slowly rose into view. The eyes were white slits; a sliver of silver shimmered where the mouth should have been. It took Lion a moment to realize the man was masked and carrying a knife between his teeth.

  Not a social visit, then.

  Lion measured the distance to the sword lying on the floor beside the bed. Too far. He'd never reach it before the man vaulted over the sill and attacked. Lion wanted to wait till the man had climbed within, then take him prisoner and learn who'd sent him. But if he had not come alone, the accomplice might well enter and overpower Lion.