Lord Keeper

by Tarah Scott

  Her eyes remained on Iain McPherson, stripped to the waist, awl gripped in readiness for another strike at the rock he was breaking up. Every muscle in his chest strained with each powerful blow he wielded. The sound of metal striking stone rang off the mountainside, and a thrill went through Victoria. She remembered the feel of him close to her, but not until witnessing such power in motion had she appreciated the strength of that body.

  He swung the awl once more and her resolve faltered. She’d just stepped from the trees into the clearing. A few quiet steps backward and she could melt back into the foliage. Iain turned in her direction. Victoria froze. For an instant, it seemed he looked through her, then his brows lifted in question, causing her heart to thud.

  Iain set the metal end of the awl on the ground and leaned expectantly against the wooden handle. When she made no move to approach, he tilted his head in obvious invitation. She suddenly felt very much the captive, awaiting the good will of her master before entering his presence. Heat flooded her cheeks anew, and her first step in his direction was clumsy with the effort to still her shaking knees. Victoria steadied herself, then picked her way through the scattered debris.

  “Morning, love,” Iain said when she paused a few feet away.

  She ignored the leap of her heart at the gentle note in his voice. What had come over her? If she didn’t gather her wits, she was sure to muddle the whole thing.

  Victoria nodded. “Good morning, my lord. I see you are hard at work.” She gestured at the rocks strewn about them.

  Iain picked up a nearby cloth and wiped sweat from his chest. “One of the disadvantages of a mountain for a wall.” He flashed a grin as he discarded the cloth.

  His smile disarmed her, and she couldn’t help smiling back. “’Tis an ongoing problem, I would suppose.”

  “A few fall every year. Not so many as you would think.”

  There was a moment of silence, then Iain lifted the awl as if to resume his work. Victoria searched her brain for some way of broaching the subject she’d come to discuss, all earlier plans having vaporized.

  “Ah…” she began, and he lifted a quizzical brow. Courage, she told herself before saying, “I understand you are to travel to the village.”

  “Aye.”

  Iain leaned the awl against the rock and walked to where a bucket sat.

  Victoria followed. “I would like to accompany you.”

  She waited as he lifted the ladle and poured a cupful of water over his face. He took a deep drink, then ran his hand across his face and smoothed his dark brown hair back before reaching for another cloth.

  “Would you now?” He wiped his face with the linen, then tossed it aside and gave her his full attention. “Why should I take you?”

  “It is untenable being held prisoner within these walls.”

  “A prison of your own making.”

  Victoria felt as if a match had been struck beneath her when he started toward the place where men were piling the rocks for removal. “Oh, if I were a man,” she said under her breath.

  “What would you do?”

  “I would not remain your prisoner. And I would make you pay for kidnapping me.”

  “Tit for tat?” he asked.

  “Aye.”

  “How would you suggest I make you pay for your recent foolishness?”

  Victoria knew it was wiser to keep a reign on her temper, but temptation was too great. “Which recent foolishness do you refer to, my lord? The one where I tried to escape, or the one when I took one too many steps in the wrong direction?”

  Iain surprised her by grinning. “There are quite a few to choose from, eh, lass?”

  She gave a loud ‘hmph,’ and he paused as if to allow her to add more wisdom to the conversation. “Or,” he went on, “shall we speak of the time you set out in the middle of the night and found yourself at the mercy of a man who would have taken what he wanted?”

  Her heart skipped, but not because of the memory of the man who had followed her, but the one she had left standing in the doorway. The look on Iain’s face seemed to say he’d known that all along, and she realized her goal was fast slipping through her fingers.

  “If I promise not to do any of those things while we are gone?” she asked.

  “Promise?” Iain chuckled. “Lass, you cannot help yourself.”

  “I can help myself well enough. Perhaps it is you who cannot help himself? Do you fear being unable to keep your word?”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “The vow you gave not to force me,” Victoria explained.

  His confusion became open amusement. “If I intended to break my word, sweet, you would be tied to my bed.”

  An image of that scene flashed before her eyes, inducing a quiver in her belly. For an instant, she wished Iain was close enough to lean on, but when his eyes grew curious, she fell back on her fury.

  “You were more than a little out of control the other night,” she said.

  “Out of control?” he repeated, then threw his head back and laughed so hard she wondered if perhaps he hadn’t already had an ale or two that morning.

  He finally composed himself and regarded her with what seemed to be renewed respect mingled with shrewd understanding. “You have never seen me out of control—and if you are referring to the other night when I escorted you safely home, you should thank me for intervening. That was a nasty character following you.” Iain gave her a considering look. “Are you complaining?”

  “Complaining?”

  “Aye. Perhaps you would rather I had stayed?”

  “Cad! You are a loathsome man.”

  Iain’s brows shot up. “Not so loathsome as your admirer that night.”

  “Loathsome and obnoxious.”

  “Pretty way to speak to a man who you would ask a favor of.”

  Victoria stopped. The abominable creature was right. “’Tis your fault,” she complained.

  “Aye, I am sure you think so.”

  “You have no intention of taking me?”

  “It would be troublesome, chasing after you,” he said.

  “I swear, I will give you no cause for concern.”

  “Love, your very presence causes me concern.”

  Victoria gave him a calculated look. “There is a simple way to solve that problem.”

  Iain nodded. “True, but you are not cooperating.”

  She clenched her fists and surprised herself by stamping her foot on the ground. “You know full well I am speaking of releasing me.”

  “That would not solve the problem,” he said with a definitive shake of his head.

  “I suppose,” she said with a dramatic throw of her hands in the air, “were I to consent, you would gladly allow me to come with you.”

  Dead silence followed until Iain asked, “Are you making an offer?”

  “I will not give what you demand,” she said, cursing the whispered words, instead of the forthright statement she’d intended.

  “I am willing to start with a token,” Iain said.

  “A-a token?”

  “Something small. I am not a greedy man.”

  “Such as?”

  “A kiss,” he said.

  The impulse to deny the request was quelled by the strong desire to set foot outside the walls. “You would let me come in exchange for a kiss?”

  He nodded.

  She regarded him. “Why? You have kissed me before.”

  “True, but you have never kissed me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You want me—I could not.”

  Iain shrugged.

  Victoria stiffened. “So, it is to be blackmail, then?”

  “Perhaps. But as it is you who wishes to go, fair play dictates you pay for the privilege.”

  “Oh, I am paying,” she muttered.

  “Nay, lass. You have not paid, not at all.”

  Victoria knew he wasn’t speaking of stepping off holy ground, but of not heeding his warnings.

  Iain stood looki
ng at her. When she did nothing to answer the question, he turned.

  “Wait.” She took a step after him. “You promise. A kiss, nothing more?”

  He faced her. “You know I am a man of my word.”

  There was no disagreeing with that. For all his faults, he was an honest man.

  Victoria approached to within arm’s length. He made no move to embrace her. The debate as to how to go about the business was raging in her brain when the thought occurred to her that he hadn’t lain down any rules. A kiss was a kiss. It would be impossible to reach his lips without standing on her toes, and in order to do that she would be forced to place her hands on his shoulders. A quick kiss on the jaw, however, would require no more than a perfunctory action.

  Victoria took another step in his direction even as she glanced at the men who were still working. They were far enough away to have not heard the quiet conversation, but close enough to see the private exchange about to take place. A glance and a smile from one of them confirmed her analysis. She began the final, quick move toward Iain when his voice cut into her concentration.

  “Beware, lass.”

  Victoria froze.

  “Though I would be pleased to have you kiss me anywhere you like, I must insist on a kiss to the lips. Anything else, no matter how pleasant, will result in a second attempt. If you feel the need to practice…”

  Victoria looked up at him. At the gleam in his eyes, a tremor began in the pit of her stomach. “Your word, then? Only a kiss?”

  He nodded. “I will not even touch you.” I will not need to; Victoria felt his thought as surely as if he’d spoken it.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, thankful he seemed unaffected when she leaned toward him. Her fingers shook. Nerves, she told herself. Never in her life had she initiated a kiss. How did one do it?

  “Do not think to give me a quick peck and run away,” Iain said.

  “Sweet Jesu, man, how many confounded rules do you intend to impose before this business is finished?”

  His mouth twitched. “As many as it takes, love. I assume you prefer to get it right the first time?”

  “Oh, aye. That is my intention.”

  “Fine, then. Do as I say and all will go smoothly.”

  “For whom, sir?”

  “Both of us, if you listen to me.”

  Victoria sighed. “If you feel the need to instruct me to such detail, what in Hades do you hope to gain?”

  Iain made a noise between a groan and a laugh. “Never mind, just do as I say.”

  “Faith, but you are mad.” She started to remove her hands from his shoulders, but he stopped her with a tight grip around her wrists. “You promised not to touch me,” she said, suddenly realizing freedom meant nothing more than being out of the disturbing presence of Iain MacPherson.

  “Only while you are kissing me.”

  He replaced her hands with a slight adjustment. They were now on his chest. She dropped her gaze. His hands still covered hers, and it seemed he pressed her palms closer to his hard muscle. She had the unexpected urge to knead the dark flesh. A dizzying current swept through her.

  “Have you the courage to finish what you started?” Iain said.

  She jerked her head up. His face snapped into focus, and she read the satisfaction in his eyes. Panic rushed to the surface. She had to get as far away from him as possible. “I am not such a fool as to fall for such thin reasoning.” She started to pull away, but he held her firm.

  “How badly do you wish to go to Dawilneh?”

  She gave him a push. “Loathsome, loathsome man. You know exactly what you are doing.” And exactly the affect he was having on her. What in God’s name was wrong with her?

  “Aye, love,” he said. “My expertise will give you great comfort and no little pleasure, I promise.”

  Victoria blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Have you anything more to say before we begin?”

  “Kiss me as I have you.”

  “If I do that, I will spend the next week in confession.”

  Iain smiled. “Aye.”

  Victoria glanced from the hands that still held hers, then back to him. Only then did he release her, leaving her sorry for the lack of support. She hesitated, her heart still pounding. She could do this—had to do this before it was too late. With a deep breath, she leaned into him. Lifting onto her toes, she touched her lips to his. The shock of their soft warmth nearly caused her to pull back, but he encouraged with a tiny sway of his body in her direction. She could have been wrong. Nay, he was still as stone. Though God knew, those lips weren’t made of granite.

  Eyes closed and fingers clutching his sash, she slanted her head beneath his. The hard line of his jaw pressed against her face. He moved another fraction of an inch, allowing her to fit more snugly against him. His mouth parted and the heat of him seeped through her. She leaned into him. Did he want more? Did she?

  She remembered he had used his tongue with her and realized the invitation in his open lips. Warmth flushed through her. Invitation or command? It was impossible to tell, but with the flick of his tongue against her lips, Victoria knew he understood her hesitancy. Another brush of his tongue against her lips, and she extended her tongue into his mouth. The feel of him was immediate. Cool, yet hot. His flavor was masculine just as the scent of him always was. Her tongue moved of its own accord across the top of his, eliciting a deep groan from him. The sound woke her from the trance. Swaying, she slid her hands up and gripped his shoulders. They swayed, then started to fall.

  Victoria tensed for the hard thump of contact, but Iain broke the impact, his body beneath hers, arms wrapped around her. She gasped at the hard ridge of arousal that dug into her belly, but was even more startled at the realization that heat had settled between her legs. She lay unmoving, torn between the fear of further inciting his desire by moving against him and the possibility that her legs wouldn’t hold her weight.

  The heavy rhythm of his heart beat in unison with hers for another long moment before Iain rolled her onto her back. His weight pressed her into the moist ground. The flame in his eyes quickened her breath. Dread tightened her stomach. She pushed at his chest. He stilled. She shook her head and he released her.

  Iain stood and hauled her to her feet. Victoria commanded each step to remain steady as she started back toward the castle. A kiss was a small price to pay for freedom.

  * * *

  “How lovely,” Victoria cried at sight of the small waterfall that trickled into a pool at the base of the hill they rounded.

  Iain called a halt, then whirled his horse around and rode up beside her. “A moment’s rest?” he asked.

  They had been riding only ten minutes, and her insides buzzed with anticipation at seeing the village that lay so close to the keep, but she inclined her head in ascent as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “That is kind of you, my lord,”

  He gestured with his hand and the handful of men and women that had accompanied them dismounted as he stepped from his horse. Victoria allowed him to lift her from the saddle, then went to stand at the water’s edge.

  The pool was little more than a deep puddle. Barely six feet across, it was fed by water that splashed down a cascade of stones, each one jutting out to form a tiny waterfall. A woman bent, cupped the cool water in her hand, and drank. It had been a relief when Iain granted an open invitation for any who wished to journey with them to the village. Originally, half a dozen warriors had been assigned to accompany him, but a dozen more men, six women, and even a child joined the group for what was clearly considered a holiday.

  Victoria caught Iain looking in her direction and she quickly knelt beside the woman.

  “The truth beneath the surface, eh?” the woman said.

  Victoria gave her a puzzled look.

  “The water.” The woman pointed to the pool. “’Tis a veil between this world and worlds beyond. Through its magic we learn the wisdom of the Otherworld.”

  A shadow fell across them. Victori
a looked up at Iain. “Shall we go, my lord?”

  “If it pleases you.”

  Ten minutes later, they looked down on turf and timber cottages scattered in the valley below. The territory through which they traveled had grown barren. Still, green moss covered the rocky mountainside, softening the harsh Grampians surrounding the village.

  The cottages drew closer together the nearer they came to the village. Gardens ripe for the picking flourished in between the homes while laundry flapped from ropes strung between trees. Open doors revealed lathes in the process of making, chests, ambries, and stools. Victoria frowned at what looked like a trestle-table in one of the barns, but before she could identify the unusual table her attention riveted onto grubby children racing between the horses as they rode down the main street. She breathed deep and surveyed the crowd gathered on the side of the road. Iain said their party was to lodge the night in the village. God willing, it would be enough time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Iain repressed a laugh at the distracted nod the lass gave the woman who placed the supper plate on the meeting hall table in front of her. While it was impossible to hear her words from where he sat across the room, her polite, but preoccupied, expression was nothing new that day. Her attention was clearly divided between studying her surroundings, the crowd gathered for the evening and, most important, the MacPherson warrior whom she had come to understand was her guard. As her attention slid passed Iain, he caught the telltale flicker of her eyes and knew she realized he had been watching her. Her attention dropped to her food, confirming her wish to hide the fact she had been thinking of the very thing she had promised not to: escape.

  “Where would you escape to, lass?” he wondered in a low voice.

  “What is that you say?” Johannas asked from across the table.

  Before Iain could respond, the door of the meeting hall swung open. The crowded room quieted and Iain turned. Samuel Menzies stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until meeting Iain’s gaze. Samuel started forward, followed by three men, and stopped just short of Iain’s chair.