"Really?" Lion raised one black brow and surveyed the thin-faced worm with great disdain. "Now how could that be when I'm here, mending my quarrel with Lady Rowena?"
"My lord was here all night," Red Will insisted. "Powerfully sick, he was. His lady thinks the ale was tainted."
Alexander's fierce expression eased slightly, but the wariness in his eyes remained. "No one else was taken sick."
"No one else drank as deeply as I did."
"You look well enough now," Georas growled.
Lion smiled wanly. "Thanks to my lady's good efforts."
"I am glad you are better," Alexander said tightly. He did not sound pleased.
Lion hoped it was only lingering annoyance over the failed raid and not a sign he was in disfavor. "I am sorry I missed the action. Lady Rowena tells me you rode out to punish—"
"Damn waste of time. Someone warned them. When I find out who it was…" Alexander's gaze turned fiery again, glittering with blood lust. "He'll wish he'd never been born." Turning, he shoved his way out of the room.
Eneas and Georas followed slowly, their gazes more skeptical even than Alexander's had been.
When all save the Sutherlands had clattered down the hall, Red Will sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. "Damn."
"Aye, that was close." Bryce looked pale as new snow.
"Too close." Lion forced a smile as he glanced at the circle of weary, concerned faces. Everyone, himself included, was exhausted. Time enough later for questions and answers, for plotting what to do next. Besides, it might look suspicious if he sequestered himself with his men. "Thanks for all you did this night. Now seek your beds, for you've earned your rest."
"But—" Bryce protested.
Lion shook his head. "Later, my friend," he said softly.
Bryce nodded grimly. "We'll have someone outside your door at all times. Shall I escort Lady Rowena to her chamber?"
"I fear I could not walk so far," Rowena said in a quavering voice.
Chapter Thirteen
Now that the danger was past, Rowena couldn't stop shaking.
"Easy lass." Lion drew her into his arms, her head pillowed in the curve between his neck and shoulder, only the covers and her robe separating them.
They fit perfectly. As they always had. She could have wept for that, for the Tightness that filled her as she lay beside him, her senses taunted by the masculine scent of his skin and the sinewy strength of his embrace. For days she'd been tormented by the memory of this, like a madness, it haunted her night and day. Dreams were a pallid substitute for reality, for the measured beat of his heart matched to hers, for the warmth of his breath on her cheek and his hand stroking her hair.
Aye, it was madness to linger where she could not stay. She stirred reluctantly. "I—I must go."
"Nay." He tipped her head back, fingers tunneling through her hair, freed from its braid without her realizing what he'd been about. "All the colors of a Highland autumn," he murmured, sifting the silken strands. "Did you know I dream of you often, your hair tumbled across the dewy grass of our glen?"
"Lion." Her throat ached.
"Do you dream of me? Of us?" His voice was soft, tempting.
"Aye," she whispered before she could stop the word.
"What are we doing in your dream?"
The forbidden fantasies flashed through her mind—dark, erotic things. She could not tell him, but a betraying flush moved up from the V-neck of her robe to heat her face.
She expected him to chuckle or smirk. Instead, his gaze grew hooded. "Aye, it is the same for me. The need for you claws at me till I am near crazy with wanting you. Come to me, Ro, let us give each other what we both want."
"I cannot." Her voice was as weak as her resolve. "I cannot love you." She prayed for the strength to look away, but his glittering eyes held her in thrall.
"You could if you would let yourself. But I am a desperate man. I will take what I can get. You say you cannot love me, but you desire me. Let that be enough."
"What—what are you saying?"
"We are both being torn apart by this unresolved passion between us. For the time we are here, let us take what pleasure and comfort we can in each other."
Rowena hesitated, her heart thundering so against her ears that she could hardly think. A few days ago, she would have rejected what he offered. But that was before she'd realized he had not deserted her. That was before she'd learned what a fine man he'd become—strong, brave, intelligent and, most alluring of all, compassionate. That was before she'd realized how much she wanted him. He made her furious; he made her laugh; he made her think. He made her come alive.
Deep in her heart, she knew that he was her true mate, the other half of her soul. Yet he was denied to her by the pact she'd made to save their son. In a few days, she would leave Blantyre and never see Lion again. The future stretched out before her, bleak and dismal as a Highland winter.
"There can be only this short time together," she whispered. "Eventually I must return to Hillbrae."
Lion saw the acceptance in her eyes, and a nervousness that tempered his impatience. "Only this." With one finger, he traced the shell of her ear, then the curve of her throat, noting the way her breathing quickened. Aye, she wanted him, but she was skittish as a virgin. Nay, more so, for there had been no shyness about her that first time she'd come to him. Reining in his own passions, he set himself to winning her trust And then her love. Aye, he'd have that too, but it would be freely given.
Anticipation shimmered through Rowena, heightened by the slow progress of his callused fingertip across her cool skin, warming her. His finger brushed over the hollow at the base of her neck, traveled down to flirt with the laces of her robe.
"Shall I undo them?" he murmured.
Rowena's nipples peaked against the thin linen of the shift that was all she wore under the robe. "Aye."
He took his time, feeling her heart pound as he loosened first the tie at her throat, then the next one and the next, till he reached the one that pulled the material taut across her breasts. It excited him unbearably to see the hard points beneath the blue wool. He wanted to rip away the fabric, to gorge himself on the feel and taste of her. Instead, he slipped one finger between the laces and stroked the swell of her breast through her shift. Just that and nothing more.
Rowena gasped as the caress rippled across her skin. Her body heated and tensed, waiting for his next move, the excitement nearly unbearable. He murmured her name, brushing featherlight kisses on her forehead, each eyelid, her cheeks, while her lips parted, hungering. He nipped at the bottom one, then soothed with the tip of his tongue, withdrawing before she could capture it. She whimpered in frustration.
"What is it?" he whispered. His eyes were dark, glittering with sensual promise.
Touch me. Take me. End this torment. But she felt shy and unsure of herself, out of touch with the emotions he'd once roused in her. "Kiss me."
He did, with a thoroughness that left her breathless when his mouth slipped away to tease her ear. "Shall I touch you?"
"Aye."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere."
"Here?" His large palm hovered over her breast, so she could feel the heat but not the soothing weight she craved.
"Aye." She put her own hand atop his, pressing it down. Obediently, his fingers flexed, molding her soft flesh, shaping it. Pleasure sliced through her, a fiery ache that spiraled down and coiled tightly in her belly. The raw rush of sensation shocked her. She'd forgotten how potent the loving could be.
"You quiver like a maid," he said, his voice low and husky. "Has it been some time for you, lass?"
"Aye." She managed to smile at the irony of it. Six years and more was, after all, some time.
"I'm glad." His grip tightened fractionally, possessively. "It killed me to think of you with him."
"Then don't." Because she couldn't bear thinking of what those years might have been like if not for some vengeful Munros, she twined her arms
around Lion's neck and drew his mouth to hers, groaning when he deepened the kiss. The measured strokes of his tongue, the clever sweep of his hands took away the sting of the past, the bleakness of the future. There was only this dark magic that she dared not call love.
"Come to me," he whispered against her mouth.
She nodded, so weak with longing she could not speak.
"Lie with me, without hesitation or regret."
"Without regret," Rowena echoed, for how could she regret the memories that must last her the rest of her life? "But afterward…when it is done…"
It will never be done.
"…You must let me go."
Lion saw the fear in her eyes and knew he had not won. Not yet, but he would. For her sake, even more than his own. He'd tasted the desperation in her kisses, felt the vulnerability in the tremors that shook her at his touch. Padruig Gunn might have given her a son, but he'd not nurtured her loving spirit. It was dying, as a plant did without sun and water.
Lion intended to restore her with the power of his love. He kissed her again, gently, easing the robe from her shoulders as he did, then divesting her of the thin shift.
Rowena stiffened as the cool air rushed over her heated skin, but instantly he chased it away with the sweeping caress of his large, warm hands.
"Beautiful…you are so beautiful, clothed in nothing save the morning light." He traced deliciously over her arms, down her ribs to the swell of her hip, then up to cup her breasts, weighing them in his callused palms.
"You wax poetical, sir." The nervous words ended in a sharply indrawn breath as he teased her nipples with thumb and forefinger. Pleasure shuddered through her, driving the air from her lungs. She lifted her back off the bed, pressing further into his caress.
"Ah, Ro. How I've dreamed of this, of touching your soft skin and watching your eyes haze with passion." He punctuated each word with a stinging nip, on her neck, her shoulder and lower. "Of listening to your needy cries and tasting your sweetness," he murmured, laving the swell of her breast, coming nearer and nearer to the crest.
She waited, nerves screaming in anticipation of what would come next. His tongue touched her nipple, sending a shock wave cascading through her, drawing a ragged moan from her.
"Do you still like that?" he asked in a heated whisper.
"Aye. Oh, aye."
He swirled his tongue over her once more, then drew the sensitive peak into his mouth, sipping erotically. Each tug was like a little lick of lightning. Whimpering, she threaded her fingers into his thick hair and held on to anchor her spinning world. "Nay. Don't leave," she said when he lifted his head.
"I won't. Never again." Lion took the other nipple so insistently offered up, sucking more greedily as passion clawed at his tightly held control. She writhed against him, the fire he'd so carefully tended burning hotter and hotter. He could end the torment now and bury himself in her sweetness, but he wanted the moment to last. He wanted to take her to such heights that she'd not be able to look at him without remembering how it had been between them.
Because he knew, that, despite her assurances, a part of her would regret this. When passion cooled and reason prevailed, her mind would turn to duty and the son who stood between them. Lion wanted to convince her that they belonged together, too.
So he kept the blanket between them to preserve his sanity and feasted on her breasts with a delicacy that made her cling and cry out his name. His fingers slid past the dip of her narrow waist to the enticing swell of her hips. He stroked her thighs and her belly, glorying in the way her slender body tensed and quivered in anticipation.
Rowena moaned softly as his fingers at last touched the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. Deftly, they found the tiny nub that was the focus of her need. One stroke, one lovely, rapturous stroke and the coil began to splinter. She sobbed his name as her body went wild and her mind hazed, clutched him with desperate fingers as she soared out of herself. As she drifted down from that dizzy height, her first thought was that she did not want it to be over.
"It is not…not by a long sight," Lion growled, making her aware she'd spoken the plea aloud. He whipped the woolen blanket from between them and drew her against his body. It was like standing too close to a smith's forge.
Desire speared through her, sparked by the feel of his smooth chest crushing her breasts and his arousal filling the empty cradle between her thighs. "Nay, it is not over."
But it would be, one day soon. Fear mixed with passion, agony with the joy of their reunion. Blinking back bitter tears, she framed his dear face with her hands and kissed him greedily, desperately.
Her urgency fed his hunger, which leaped along his nerves like sharp talons, clawing at his control. His hands slipped down her back, molding her to him, close as two people can be, and still it wasn't enough. Wrenching his lips from hers, he sought the haven of her breast, pleasuring her till she arched off the bed. Her legs thrashed and tangled with his; her nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on.
"Lion," she whispered, her voice so hoarse and urgent she did not recognize it. "Please, I can stand no more."
He lifted his head from her breast, his features taut with suppressed passion, his eyes so dark they were nearly black. "Do you want me as much as I want you?"
"Aye. I do." She'd hoped, prayed the need for him would pass, but it was greater than ever, greater even than her self-control. "Please, I'm so empty without you." Her thighs parted instinctively to offer him sanctuary, and a small sigh escaped her as he accepted the invitation. The weight of him, the scent of his skin and the rasp of his muscular legs moving between smooth ones were so achingly familiar that her throat tightened.
"Rowena. Look at me, love." He hovered over her, sparing her his weight. The sun chose that moment to spill into the room, gilding his fierce features so that he resembled the Vikings from whom he'd sprung—proud, powerful warrior princes. "I want to see your face when we become one," he said softly. One arm slid under her bottom, lifting her. "I want you to look deep into my eyes." They shimmered, more brilliant and searing than the sunlight. "I want you to remember this moment forever."
"Forever," she whispered.
"Forever." Slowly, so slowly and tenderly it was almost a torment, he began to fill her.
Rowena whimpered his name, lifting her hips as her body stretched to accommodate his size. It felt good, so good she could not suppress the small moans that escaped her lips. She wanted to close her eyes, to savor the moment, but his own commanded hers in a joining that was almost deeper than their physical one.
"Aye, just so was it meant to be," Lion whispered. She was hot and tight, a small silken glove entrapping him, drawing him deeper and deeper till it seemed he'd found the core of her. Giving and taking, they moved together in a rite as old as time, a rhythm of life and renewal. Each thrust took them higher, made the fire burn brighter. They rode to the crest together, their cries of completion filling the sun-drenched chamber.
"It was him I saw," Clem Gunn insisted.
Eneas swore and slammed his fist against the sill of the window in Blantyre's great hall. "If only we could prove it! But Alexander will hear no word spoken against his favorite."
"That favor is a slippery thing these days." Georas turned his crafty eyes across the hall.
There the earl slumped in his great chair, staring broodily into a cheerless fire. He'd been there all day, refusing rest or food or drink. Lady Glenda hovered at his elbow, her expression strained, a bruise marring her left cheek. Alexander had backhanded her for asking how the raid had gone and then again when she'd tried to offer solace.
"The lady may soon find herself out on her arse, no matter that she is chatelaine of this castle. And if that can happen, then Lion Sutherland's star may wane, too."
"How?" Eneas demanded. "Alexander would not let us question the bastard. He comes and goes as he pleases, does not lift a weapon to aid the cause and beds my brother's widow with poor Padruig scarce cold in his grave."
"Not a very fine example for her young son and the next chief of your clan, is it?"
"Bah, I do not care if the whole army has access to her bed. Oh, I see." Eneas's eyes narrowed. "I might use that to convince Alexander to name me the lad's guardian." But that plum no longer seemed as juicy, not when he wanted his pick from a larger, more fruitful tree.
"Then you could call up Clan Gunn to fight with us."
"Aye, I could." Eneas rubbed his gritty eyes. He had not sought his bed, either, staying near in case the earl needed him. "But even if Alexander declared me chief, many of the Gunns would stay at home, for they are loyal to Finlay."
"Then they would suffer the Wolf's wrath."
Eneas's eyes widened. "Shh, he may hear you, and you know how he hates that byname."
"Well earned though it is." Georas smiled thinly. "The more fearful he becomes that his plan will not succeed, the more he resembles a wolf. A desperate wolf. And they are the most dangerous. The most likely to turn on their own kind." His smile turned evil. "Do you know that he has twice asked Lion to raise Clan Sutherland to fight with us? Lion has managed to avoid that by clever side steps. He claims he can vouch only for the clansmen of Glenshee, his holding, as the rest of the Sutherlands are under his father's control. He hints that he may bring his sire around to Alexander's side, but that has not happened. I say the time is right to force Lion to make good on his promises."
Eneas grinned. "And if he cannot…"
"Or will not—" Georas lifted a scarred brow "—we will have him where we want him."
"Swinging from a gibbet."
"Exactly. Are you with me?"
"Aye," Eneas answered. So long as it suits me.
Georas nodded, left the window and crossed to Alexander with a deliberate stride. "Your Grace?" he said softly. "I think the time has come to act."
"Act?" Alexander's head came up. His blurry eyes fought to focus on Georas's face. "On what? It'll be days before the Rosses return to the tower. We've men there watching, but—"
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