by Willa Blair
“To glean the assistance ye need the soonest, and give ye time to find the proper consort.”
“I have found him.” Ellie stood and moved to Donal’s seat, perching on the rolled arm of the chair.
Though he knew he shouldn’t touch her, Donal could not stop his hand from reaching for her, wrapping around her waist to steady her. But Ellie seemed to take that as permission and leaned in. Donal sucked in a quick breath in surprise as she kissed him. Ellie’s sweet fragrance and heat filled his senses. Gods, he wanted this woman.
He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, running his tongue across her lips to part them, then tasting the tip of hers inside her sweet mouth. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest while her tongue fought a duel with his. A duel he was happy to fight—win or lose. He reached between them to cup her fullness. His manhood stirred. “Ach, lass, ye’re driving me to do what we both ken is wrong.”
“No’ both of us,” Ellie breathed into his mouth, turning to press her breast more fully into his hand. “One of us kens the truth, even if the other is stubborn.”
That startled a chuckle from Donal, quickly suppressed as Ellie’s lips moved across his cheek. When her tongue started tracing the contours of his ear, the need in Donal’s loins burst into flame.
“Ye gods, woman. Where did ye learn to do that?”
Ellie murmured softly in his ear. “I told ye I am no innocent virgin. Did ye no’ believe me?”
Donal rocked his head against the back of the chair, once, twice, thrice, hoping to pound some sense into it before he made the next, irrevocable move. Then Ellie traced her fingers down his throat to the muscled contours of his chest between the lacings of his tunic. The warmth of her fingers sent heat sizzling to his groin and set his fingertips to circling her pebbled nipple. She wriggled in his arms until her hip rested against his shaft, now hardened to a level impossible to ignore, removed her hand from his shirt and trailed her fingers down his chest to his belly. There, she paused. His buttocks tightened as his cock strained up, craving the touch of her hand, the heat of her body.
Donal took hold of his desire with all the strength he could muster. He must not do this. When Jamie got back with help from the treaty clans, Ellie would find a consort among those men. He would not ruin her chance for happiness with a man who could give her everything he could not. Not like this.
With a groan of frustration, Donal picked Ellie up off his lap and put her on her feet, then rose and stepped away from her, putting the upholstered chair between them to hide the bulge of his throbbing erection from her sight. Her cheeks were red. The hard points of her nipples strained against the fabric of her dress. One traitorous hand reached for her, but he pulled it back and clenched his fist at his side.
“Nay, lass. I canna,” he ground out. “I’m no’ the man ye need. And Toran wouldna approve if I took advantage of ye without the promise of marriage, no matter how much I wish to.”
“Toran? Lathan? I dinna care what he thinks. Why do ye? What is between us—that is what’s important. What we want.”
“Nay, I’ll no’ risk yer future. Nor the treaty. Nor my laird’s displeasure for a dalliance that will hurt ye when I leave. I canna risk harming ye in any way. I respect ye too much for that.”
“Respect? Respect?” Ellie whirled away and turned her back, then spun back around with an oath. “Is that what ye’re doing? Respecting me?”
“That is what I intend, aye. To respect ye and yer clan by no’ sullying its laird.”
“What if I don’t want yer respect?”
“Lass, listen to yerself. Ye dinna mean that.”
“Nay, I dinna.” Ellie sighed. “Ye’re right. But I want more than yer respect, Donal. We want each other. We care for each other. My visions tell me we have a future together. What is wrong with that?”
“What if ye’re mistaken? It’s only wrong if we act on it. I’ll no’ leave ye with a child, nor with a reputation ruined so that no other man will have ye.”
“I dinna want ye to leave at all.”
“I ken it. But eventually, I must. Being a widow is honorable. What ye propose, well...”
“Oh! How dare ye.”
“How dare I no’, lass. One of us has to put a stop to this.” Donal moved to the door and opened it.
“We’re no’ done, Donal.”
“Aye, we are, Laird MacKyrie.” He stepped out into the hall and closed the door, shutting out the sight of Ellie, standing with one hand on the back of the chair he’d vacated, eyes brimming with tears.
Aye, that was well done, damn it. He’d made her cry. Again. Why couldn’t she see he was all wrong for her?
****
Ellie stumbled down the hallway toward her chambers, blinded by the darkness and her tears. Damn it! Who had taken the torches? If they had gone to fetch fresh ones, couldn’t they leave at least one burning while they did it? If they’d taken them earlier today and forgotten to return fresh ones to this hallway, she’d know the reason why. Couldn’t anyone do what she asked them to do? Nay, that wasn’t fair. She paused by one of the offending empty brackets and caught a breath. No sense blaming her people when they hadn’t caused her frustration and embarrassment.
Footsteps sounded behind her and she straightened, schooling her features into a calm mask, quickly wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks. She knew that tread. Micheil. Perhaps in the dark hallway, he could not see what she’d just done. A window at the end of the hall revealed the faint glimmer of starlight reflected off of snow. Little enough illumination.
“Ellie, what’s wrong?”
So much for hiding her emotions under the cover of darkness.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” But she lied. Her eyes welled again and heat filled her face. She knew a blotchy blush stained her cheeks.
Micheil stood close, looking at her, his brow wrinkled. “Ye dinna look fine. If I can see yer upset in this gloom, there’s something amiss.” He lifted a hand to the side of her face. His touch was almost too gentle to feel as he wiped away dampness with his thumb.
She’d always avoided letting their friendship go past the comfortable closeness they had attained years ago as children. They were long past sharing childish confidences. Yet, Micheil deserved her honesty. But she couldn’t say the words. The pain of Donal’s rejection was too fresh. Ellie bit her lip. How could she hurt Micheil scant minutes later? He cared for her, and she for him, but not in the same way, and not in the way she needed Donal.
“I saw ye go into yer solar with Donal MacNabb earlier,” Micheil told her. “Did he upset ye?” He waited a beat, then gripped her shoulder. “Did he assault ye? If he did, I’ll kill him for ye.”
“Nay, nay, Micheil, nothing like that. Oh gods, don’t even think it.” She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled his hand away. “Ye couldna win against him. And he did nothing, truly. I’ve only myself to blame. I presumed too much.”
“What do ye mean?”
Ellie took a breath to slow her racing heartbeat. She had to tell him. “I dinna ken how to say this, Micheil, so I’ll just say it straight out, the truth as we’ve always shared it between us. I want Donal MacNabb to stay with clan MacKyrie.”
“Aye, I ken that. His skills are greatly needed. He has proven that, even to me.”
“Nay, ye misunderstand me.” She shook her head. “I want him to...to...I want to marry him.”
Micheil didn’t say anything for a moment. Ellie opened her mouth to apologize, but he spoke before she could.
“Ye’ve chosen him as yer consort?”
“Aye, I have. But he has yet to accept the idea.”
“Ellie, ye must think on this. If he doesna wish to stay, ye have other choices. Ye ken I have always been yer friend. I care for ye.” He reached a hand out to her, but drew it back before he touched her, then crossed his arms over his chest. “But if ye dinna want me, and I ken ye dinna think of me that
way, as much as it disappoints me, then the MacDuff is suitable.”
Ellie raised a hand to ward off his words. “The MacDuff? Och, nay. I canna stomach that man.”
“He must care for ye. He’s determined to woo and win ye. Is that so bad?”
She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle. “On the face of it, no. He’s the laird of a large, powerful clan. He has an army at his disposal, wealth and land. But I canna bear the thought of having him to husband.” She grimaced, then made her decision. “And I regret it to my very bones if I’m hurting ye, my friend. But Donal is the one I’ve chosen. He is the one in my dream.”
“Ye’re certain he’s the one whose coming was foretold by yer Sight? It’s never been that specific before.”
Ellie bowed her head. What if she was wrong? What if she’d only convinced herself? What if she met someone from one of the treaty clans and suddenly knew. Would she be able to admit she had been wrong? Could she hurt Donal that way?
“I’ve had the dream more than once. Each time, the face has been more clear.”
Micheil shook his head. “But not completely? Aye, he’s the one ye’ve been spending time with. I’ve seen ye gazing at him—and he at ye. But perhaps ye think it’s him because ye see him so often.” He squeezed her hand. “He’s little more than a sword for hire, Ellie. A landless man from far away. What good can he do us?” Micheil tipped her chin up with a finger. “And he made ye cry. I could kill him for that alone.”
“Dinna be foolish, Micheil. He’s not responsible for my tears. I am.”
Micheil stepped away from her and paused, facing the starlit night visible through the window. “If ye’re set on him, there are ways. All we’d have to do is catch the two of ye...”
“Micheil! Nay!” Ellie put her hand to her throat and lowered her voice. “Nay. I couldna do it. I’ll no’ trap the man into staying with me. He would hate me. Hate all of us. We need him too much to risk that.”
Ellie shuddered, imaging the scene. The fury that would be in Donal’s eyes as Micheil and others burst into her chamber to find them together. He’d feel betrayed, aye, and furious. They’d be lucky to survive it. “He must want to stay, for his own reasons, no’ because we tread on his honor.” Ellie shook her head. “Nay. No matter how much we need him, I willna force him, no’ that way.”
Micheil shook his head, a sudden movement of a deeper blackness. “Yer scruples commend ye, lass.” He returned to her side and offered his arm. “Verra well. Come, I’ll walk ye to yer chamber. I’ll no’ have ye fall in this gloom.”
She wrapped her fingers around his elbow. He placed his strong, warm hand over hers. Ellie appreciated Micheil’s companionable silence during the time it took to reach her door. There, he patted her hand and released her.
“Ellie, listen to me. Think on this some more. Give yerself time. Donal McNabb is no’ our only hope, nor is Lachlan MacDuff. There will be men coming from the treaty clans, closer by. There may be a suitable consort among them. A marriage there would link our clan with theirs most successfully, rather than with a clan from so far away we never heard of them.”
Ellie shook her head. “Ye speak sense, Micheil, I ken ye do. I would agree with ye, except for the matter of the Sight.”
“Ye said ye had the dream several times. Each time a sharper image of the man’s face. Perhaps once the rest arrive, that face will come fully into focus and ye’ll realize MacNabb is no’ who ye have been seeing.”
“Perhaps.”
“Either way, dinna refuse the MacDuff entirely. I still think allying with them could be wise.”
Ellie shuddered again. But she knew Micheil could be like a dog with a bone. He would not let this drop unless she agreed with him, however tentatively. “I...very well, Micheil, I’ll think on all ye’ve said. Ye’re a good friend. Ye always have been. I ken ye have my best interests at heart.”
“Always, Ellie. Always.”
She opened the door to her chamber and bade him goodnight as she stepped through, then closed it behind her, troubled. Why did Micheil insist an alliance with the MacDuff would be wiser than the alliance with the Lathans? Was he still smarting from the trouncing he got from Bram in the great hall? Or from Donal on the practice ground? He knew how she felt about Lachlan MacDuff. He’d even pointed out that there might be others more suitable than Donal coming from the treaty clans. So what made Micheil so determined she consider the MacDuff?
****
Donal dreamed of Ellie all through the night, waking briefly several times, hard and aching, only to realize she wasn’t there, then falling back into heated dreams. Now the sky had brightened though the sun had yet to rise and he still tossed and turned as their time together last night ran through his mind.
He’d come close to taking her. She’d all but said she wanted him to. She needed a husband, a consort, and had decided she wanted him beside her. All because she believed her visions had shown him to be the man who would come to save them. Was that the only reason? Or did Ellie see something in him? Something he didn’t see in himself?
He rarely let anyone get close to him. When he did, it was to satisfy a physical need, not to make an emotional bond. So why had he spent the past night dreaming, not just about making love to her, but her smile, her laugh, the sparkle in her eyes? Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?
He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply to slow the rush of heat to his groin. Ellie clearly preferred him. She’d been ready to put the cart before the horse. Aye, she was no shy virgin, but a woman with her target in sight: him.
But he refused to be trapped by a woman’s wiles. If he truly wanted to leave MacKyrie when the lads were trained, he could not bed its laird. He meant what he’d told her. He would not leave her with a child and ruin her chance to find happiness with a suitable man, one with nearby lands, wealth, and warriors to protect her.
Aye, he would leave when he finished the job here. When the time was right. He would leave, perhaps never to return.
Until then, he needed to take action. Sometime during the night, he’d come to the realization he had to get away from Ellie—at least for a while—before he did something they’d both regret. Before he let her tempt him into doing what she willed—and he wanted. Taking her. Making love to her. Ach, that was too painful to contemplate. His pulse pounded and his body demanded its release with her, but his mind refused to grant it. He could not harm her that way. Nor could he let himself become so entangled with her that neither she nor he could bear the pain of his leavetaking when the time came. He could not let her have that much power over him. Not then. Not now.
But he could get some distance from Ellie to think about what to do. Clear his mind. Calm his blood.
He must figure out how could he stay and make the conditions of the treaty work while fighting this need for her. The treaty she had signed on the condition that he train her lads. Nay, he had sworn to do a job here. He was not free to return to the Aerie. For as long as that took...a year, or more. Yet, he couldn’t survive a year of being near her, seeing the hurt in her eyes when he rejected her advances—and he had to reject them for her own sake. And for his.
Or worse, seeing her with another man. He turned his head to the side if to look away from that idea, then slammed his hands down beside his thighs and fisted them in the bedclothes.
He had to think, and he couldn’t do that when she was near enough to touch, to taste, to take. Last night, he’d come too close to giving in to her there before the hearth in her solar. If she had stroked but a finger’s width lower, his fractured control would have shattered, and Ellie would have had her way.
He groaned, his entire body throbbing at the memory.
He rolled out of bed, the chill of the floor a shock to his bare feet. His erection strained out from his belly, a surly reminder of what he could have had, but hadn’t. Ellie meant far more to him than a quick tumble. And she was far too important to her clan to ris
k her that way.
With a growl, he dressed and got his gear together, distracting himself with plans for the coming journey. He’d go with the wagons at least as far as the first village to get them past bandit territory. Then he’d return. Aye. He was no coward, to run from a mere lass. He’d be back, but by the time he returned, he’d have thought this through without her distraction. He’d know whether he meant to take Ellie as his own or walk away from her forever.
He made his way down to the bailey, grabbing a package of food from the kitchen on the way. Bram, Forbes, Alpin, and Innis were checking their horses when he arrived. Their breaths drifted like wispy clouds around them. He ignored the early morning chill and waved Bram aside. Bram might challenge his reasons for going. He would not have that discussion in front of the others.
“I’ve decided to ride out with the wagons. Ye’ll stay here to keep an eye on things until we get back.”
Bram frowned. “Are ye sure? I’ve no problem goin’ with the MacKyries.” Bram hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the keep. “Ellie...the MacKyrie,” he said, amending his familiar use of her name as Donal narrowed his eyes. “She willna be pleased to find ye gone. Or me in yer place.”
Donal signaled for one of the stablehands to bring his horse. “Aye, I’m sure. Get back inside.” He grimaced, debating whether leaving Ellie a message would make her think he cared too much for her, then shrugged. She already knew. “If the MacKyrie asks, tell her I’ll be back within days. I dinna plan to stay with the wagons past the first village unless we meet trouble before then.”
Bram raised an eyebrow. Donal lifted his chin, making it clear he’d brook no argument. Bram nodded. Without further discussion, he began stripping his gear from his horse. He tossed a wrapped package to Donal. The scent of warm bread and ripe cheese came with it. “Take this. I willna need it.”
Donal nodded his thanks as the stablehand led out his mount, then began stowing his gear and checking its tack. Thankfully, Ellie had not put in an appearance. With luck, she’d sleep until well after he and the wagons had gone.
In moments, he would be away from here.