Fiona put the stopper in the bottle of ink and blew the last entry dry.
“Done. Done. Done. Done. But where is he?” she muttered to herself. Gathering up three of the farm ledgers and some scrolls, she headed out the door. “Well, I’ll just leave these for the prioress, check on the—”
The open door suddenly became a wall, a human wall. Stepping back, she smiled up into the face of Alec Macpherson.
“You’re here,” she said brightly, conscious of her quickening heartbeat.
“Aye,” he said, backing her into the room. His eyes traveled over her, taking in every aspect of her. Her beautifully flushed face greeted him with all the welcome he had hoped to find. The gray dress she was wearing, demure as it was, did nothing to hide the slender curves of her body. She was wearing no veil, and the light of the single window picked up the flaming highlights of her neatly pulled-back hair.
He reached over, while holding her gaze, and took the paraphernalia from her arms, depositing it unceremoniously in a pile on the corner of the table. Without pausing, he backed to the door and pushed it closed.
“M’lord,” she whispered, her eyes widening. “Is this proper?”
“I don’t give a damn if it is or not.” Alec stepped toward her. “I’ve missed you.”
“So have I.” She took a hesitant step toward him as Alec closed the distance between them.
Their bodies met in a whirlwind of desire.
“You’ve entranced me, my fairy maid,” he whispered, his lips a breath away.
“I’m the one spellbound,” she breathed, raising her mouth to his.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, the two met in a kiss that ignited sparks in their souls, lighting up the very core of their being.
Alec pressed her to him, suddenly unconscious of anything but the soft mouth and body yielding to his own. There was a fierceness in their embrace that had not been present the night before. It was as if the new day had brought with it new feelings, new desires, new thresholds to cross.
Inside Fiona, flames were leaping up, torching all reason, all care. She felt herself being engulfed in an immolation of passion that she scarcely thought possible. She could feel his silent demand. Her hands clutched at his back as her lips parted.
Alec tasted the sweetness of her lips. He angled his mouth to move more deeply into her, and Fiona turned slightly in his arms, rising to his need.
As he felt her turn, a raw desire swept into him, and an urgency began to take hold of him. Her hips were pressed against him, and Alec was suddenly conscious of a growing power that was building with unchecked momentum. He backed her against the table. He wanted her.
Fiona found herself instinctively arching against him. His leg moved between hers and pressed against her intimately. Her hands traced the lines of his back. Her mouth became as wild as his, as undisciplined. Within her, she was suddenly half-conscious of an entirely new woman awakening, one with feelings, with desires. Her senses flooded with a raw hunger that matched his, a hunger that could not be denied.
Emboldened by the feel of his hands on her back, she reached up, taking hold of his shoulder and neck. As his strong fingers caressed her back, sliding ever lower to the curve of her buttocks, she pushed her hips against his powerful frame and felt one hand lift her thigh. Her breath caught in her throat as he nestled his arousal tightly to her. She felt him throbbing intimately against her, and suddenly a moment of panic flashed into her consciousness. Instinctively, Fiona tried to move her hips away, but with the table at her back and Alec’s coaxing hands and mouth stoking the fire in her, she found the relevance of her fear fading rapidly into oblivion. Fear surrendered to physical desire, and Fiona found her whole body straining for more of him.
As Fiona moved against him, Alec felt his body shake with desire. Her body’s movement was feeding the rivers of need building within him. Alec withdrew from the kiss, moving his mouth to the silky skin of her neck.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered.
“I’m paying the fairy tithe.”
His hands caressed her side, moving gently to the soft round fullness of her breast. He heard her sharp intake of air as she pressed even more tightly into his grip.
“Fairies…are creatures of habit,” she said, feeling his fingers undoing the buttons that held the back of her dress.
“Habit? You could become an obsession.” He pulled the collar of her dress away and pressed his full lips to the soft whiteness of her shoulder. The strap of a chemise slipped down onto her arm.
“I could?” she whispered huskily.
“You already have,” he answered, pulling her dress down off her shoulder. “You have already taken hold of my heart.”
Alec looked into the desire that clouded Fiona’s eyes, and pressed his lips to the exposed flesh of the top of her breast. He pulled the gray wool of the dress lower.
The creak of a door opening in the corridor wrenched them back into the reality of the place. Breathless, Fiona leaped aside, her hands hurriedly pulling her clothes back into some semblance of order. Her fingers flew to her neck, fumbling to close the buttons at the back.
Alec stood where he was, his blue eyes piercing her with intense desire.
What had come over her? Fiona could not explain, even to herself, the rush of feelings she harbored for this man. They seemed to dominate her rational thoughts, her ability to think straight. And this was so different from what they had experienced the night before. Affection had suddenly turned to desire. Tenderness to unbridled passion. As their eyes locked again, she felt her body melting under the heat of his gaze.
“I can’t,” she stammered. “We shouldn’t.”
“We’ve done nothing wrong, Fiona.”
“You don’t understand.” She turned and retreated to the small window of the workroom. Standing there, inhaling the fresh air, she tried to calm her senses, to comprehend somehow what had just occurred.
Alec could not tear his eyes away from her. Passion. Ambrose had asked him that question last night. About where a relationship such as theirs could end up. He had listed reason after reason why Alec should let her be. Fiona, with no family, no name, had at least a place and a future that Alec should not tamper with. Ambrose had talked of things Alec had not been ready to answer. About whether this affection for Fiona, this innocent, might simply be a reaction to Kathryn. About using Fiona to recover from his own hurt.
Alec had been angry with his younger brother for asking these things, and he had let him know it. But he had thought hard about what his brother said. Everything Ambrose said rang with the possibility of truth. But now, looking at her, he knew what he had known last night, what he had known for days. That what was driving him was a force very different from what Ambrose envisioned. But it was something he had not been ready to admit. Not to Ambrose. Not to himself.
But it is simple, he thought now, looking at her by the window.
I need her. Just her. As she is.
I love her.
Voices could be heard in the corridor. They passed by the door. Alec watched her face turn slightly as she listened to the sounds recede. He turned and opened the door.
“I promised Malcolm I would bring you right back.” Alec smiled. “I had the best of intentions.”
She turned and looked steadily at him. He looked so calm, so much in control. So unlike her. She was a mess. Fiona took a deep breath, trying to get some grasp on all that had just happened between them.
“Malcolm is very excited about today, m’lord.”
“No more ‘m’lord’ or `Lord Macpherson,’ Fiona,” he replied seriously. “It is just Alec from now on.”
Fiona could not answer him.
Standing silently, she looked at the handsome Highland nobleman. Though her workroom was not small, his huge frame dominated the space. An aura surrounded him of confidence, wealth, ability...power. Everything about him marked the differences between them, from his fine white linen shirt to the jeweled clan broach
that held in place the tartan crossing his chest. Looking at him, she knew all too clearly. She was a commoner without a family, a woman with no name. She lowered her eyes. Yes, she knew all too clearly.
Lord Alec Macpherson was laird.
“I am ready to go,” she whispered.
“Before we do, I have something for you.”
“For me?” she asked, surprised.
“Aye. A wanderer like you—determined to go off on her own—needs something to defend herself.”
From the pouch that hung by his long sword, Alec drew out a small dagger in a leather sheath. Crossing the room he held it out to her. Its handle of brown wood was polished until it shone. On the hilt there was a steel circle, and Fiona could see from where she stood an embossed family crest. His family crest.
“M’lord, I could not accept a gift.”
“It is not a gift,” he said, thinking quickly. Of course she would not accept a gift. What could he have been thinking? “It’s for my own peace of mind. For protection. There are other maidens, Fiona, who wear these all the time.”
“I do not require protection, m’lord,” she said firmly. “Though I am certain those other maidens would cherish such a weapon, especially coming from someone of your stature.”
Immediately she regretted the sound of her own words. She herself heard uncalled-for notes of jealousy.
“I am not interested in other maidens,” Alec responded, his face stern. He reached out and took her hand, placing the dirk in it. Before letting go of her hand, his voice softened. “It is your safety I am concerned with right now. Only yours.”
“I still cannot...” she began softly, shaking her head.
“Fiona, wait. Let me explain,” he said, pausing, his eyes looking earnestly into hers. “You told me that a man and a woman must learn from one another. I am learning. The thought of you roaming those woods alone angered me at first; now it worries me to no end. But I am learning that I cannot stop you. And I should not try to mold you into something you are not. All I want is to help you and to keep you safe. Or rather, help you keep yourself safe. Now, you take this from me or I’ll have you followed wherever you go. So which is it?”
Fiona closed her fingers around the dagger. On the insignia at the hilt, a cat was sitting above the depiction of a ship on a shield. It claws were outstretched, threatening. “But you don’t understand. I could never use this on another human being. That is simply not my way.”
“When the need arises, we all do what is necessary.” Alec looked at the young woman contemplating the weapon in her hand. “And besides, you may need it to protect yourself from overly passionate lairds.”
Unexpectedly, Fiona smiled up at Alec and tucked the dirk into the cord that encircled her waist.
“You have convinced me.”
“I have?” he responded, astonished.
“Aye, m’lord. Overly passionate lairds seem to be a growing threat on this island.”
“Well, I suppose I should be glad you’ve accepted this,” Alec replied, his smiling face suddenly showing potential misgivings. “But considering what’s persuaded you, I believe I already regret the whole thing.”
Malcolm was indeed excited about their outing. Astride his new pony, he was waiting with David in the open area in front of the stable yard. A stable boy held Ebon, and David was holding another saddled mount for Fiona.
“Do you like my new pony, Fiona?” the lad blurted before Fiona and Alec had even reached them. “Alec gave him to me! His name’s Rogue, and he likes me.”
Fiona’s eyes traveled from Malcolm’s thrilled expression to the restless pony beneath him. She thought his life had been so complete here at the Priory, before all this. Before Lord Macpherson had stepped into his life. But now, looking at the excited young boy, Fiona knew she had been wrong...as she may even have been wrong about her own life.
“How could he not like you?” she agreed, glancing up at the laird. “He is a lovely beast, is he not?”
“Since you three have some distance to go, I thought perhaps you would want to ride, as well, today,” David suggested, looking at Fiona pointedly. “After all, while slowness is needed for ripening, it also brings rot, you know.”
This had been a sore subject between Fiona and David for as long as she could remember. She liked walking. David hated it. Walking offered her the freedom to use back trails and to come and go unnoticed. David never felt comfortable with that. So he had taught her how to ride. And Fiona excelled at it just like everything else, but she continued to avoid it. He, in turn, continued to insist that she use a horse going back and forth, for safety’s sake. But, of course, Fiona always refused.
“Very well.” She sighed without agreeing, noting David’s raised eyebrows. Fiona was not going to dampen Malcolm’s excitement over the pony. “Though we have perfectly good legs for walking.” She mumbled the last words under her breath.
Alec watched as Fiona easily mounted her horse and straightened the skirts of her dress. He could not help but feel disappointed that she was not going to ride with him.
Alec mounted his horse and followed behind the two.
As the trio headed for the Priory gate, the ancient porter, James, unexpectedly scuttled toward them, his long staff held to block their way.
“Nay, lass, ye cannot go today,” he cried, clearly worked up over something. “Take the lad back.”
Fiona slid off her horse, moving quickly to her distraught friend. Alec looked on, feeling uncomfortably as if he had witnessed this scene before. The porter’s blue robe hung open, and his old shirt showed the signs of wear.
“What is it, James?” she asked, putting a hand on the old man’s shoulder.
“My mother has sent me to warn ye. Do not do what ye are intending to do, for ye will not fare well, I tell ye!”
“Your mother, James?” Fiona asked. She glanced quickly at Alec. The old porter had to be close to eighty years old and lived alone with his son, the village smith.
“Aye, lassie!” James lowered his voice confidentially. “It is the rain. It will be a deluge. Loch Dunvegan will be flooding o’er the strand.”
“But the sun is shining, James,” Malcolm piped up. He did not want this excursion put off.
Fiona never took her face off the porter. Her kindly hazel eyes showed her concern as she comforted him, trying to soothe his anxiety.
“Thank you, James. But we are going south—away from Loch Dunvegan—to the bluffs that look out over those little islands.”
“MacLeod’s Maidens,” Malcolm chirped in cheerfully.
“We will not be far from you if it...when it starts to rain.”
The porter’s troubled look was hardly diminished as he glanced up into Fiona’s eyes.
“Very well, lass, if you think so,” he muttered unhappily, turning and working his way slowly toward his place by the gate. “But my mother, she...”
As the old man moved off, Fiona listened until his voice trailed off in the space between them.
“Could we please go, Fiona?” Malcolm pleaded.
With a last look at James, Fiona mounted again, watching the ancient porter, who now sat shaking his head sadly.
“We will watch for the clouds, James,” she said reassuringly as they rode past him.
“There is not a cloud in the sky, Fiona,” the lad whispered, looking hopefully at Alec.
“We will be fine, Malcolm,” she replied quietly. “James is just getting...well...he is just concerned about us, that’s all.”
They rode out of the village in silence, Fiona and Alec each watching Malcolm as he sat proudly on his mount. His eyes were taking in everything around him as if this were his first time out and about.
“This porter...James, I mean,” Alec broke in. Something was gnawing at the laird. Something about that old man.
“He’s strange!” Malcolm chirped in.
“That is no way to talk, Malcolm,” Fiona corrected sternly. “He is an aging man. And there is nothing str
ange about him.”
“Is he always like this?” Alec asked. “So worried about the weather, I mean.”
“Not always,” Fiona said, looking up at the clear blue sky. “He says he dreams of things and the crofters believe him. There are some who believe he can see into your soul. That he has the second sight.”
“And there are some who believe in the fairy maid. Are these the same folk?”
“Aye, more or less,” she whispered quietly.
“Do you believe him? In what he says?” Alec asked, looking at Fiona. “In what he sees?”
“It is difficult to understand dreams and warnings. But we’d be fools not to believe in things just because we do not understand them. So I suppose I believe anything is possible.”
“Aye, everything is possible.”
Fiona felt Alec’s eyes bore into hers, and she felt her resistance to him again begin to crumble.
She pushed her horse ahead of the two. Everything is possible! Yes, for dreamers and fools, she thought. But what was she doing allowing herself these feelings for a laird? When they had left her workroom, she had felt as though everyone’s eyes had been on them. As though everyone knew what she and Alec had been doing behind the closed door. She was terribly embarrassed.
But this is no dream, she thought. It is plain and simple. It is flesh and blood. It is passion and desire and disaster. Old James can see it, and I cannot. What a fool!
And the porter’s words were echoing in her mind. ‘You will not fare well.’ That is what he’d said, and she knew he was right. For she was the one who was feeling so helpless. She was the one who would suffer in the end. As Malcolm’s mother had. But even knowing this, she could not seem to resist his attentions nor rebuff his shows of affection.
She simply couldn’t stop thinking of him. She felt his presence everywhere, all the time. She had already let this go too far. Fiona knew that. But now her curiosity, her attraction to him, were pushing her, driving her on. And somehow, she just didn’t mind.
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