“I don’t want to lie on top of you, so we’re going to need to be a little creative until the babe comes.”
She made a sharp sound, her back arching as he probed her a little harder. He rocked his hips, readying her with little nudges.
He liked to make her moan. Liked to make her head fall back and her lips part as she begged him to ease her agony. But that wasn’t what he wanted right now. He didn’t want to tease her, her wanted to love her. He wanted to hold her gaze as he entered her, as she took him into her body. As she took him into her heart.
“Look at me, Mary.”
Their eyes locked. Then slowly—agonizingly slowly—he pushed inside her. Inch by inch, he buried himself in the wet, velvety heat of her body.
It felt so damned good, sensation roared through him like a lightning rod. He could have groaned. But he didn’t. He was too focused on the woman before him. He would remember this moment forever. He would never forget how it felt to look into her eyes as he entered her and see the overwhelming emotion squeezing his chest mirrored in deep aquamarine. They were bound together, and just for right now he could believe nothing could ever break them apart.
When he’d gone as far as he could go, when he was buried to the hilt in the tight grip of her body, he stilled, held her gaze, and nudged a little deeper, bringing a startled gasp to her lips.
“Kenneth …!”
“I love you,” he said. “Let me show you.”
And then he began to move. Slowly and gently, in long, languid strokes. For the first time in his life, Kenneth made love to a woman. He told her with his body how much she meant to him.
Mary was in heaven. Her husband had roused her passion, taken her to higher peaks of pleasure than she’d every imagined, but she had never expected anything like this.
The raging firestorm of lust had given way to a slow, deep burn that proved just as hot and even more devastating. There was not a part of her that he left untouched, or unclaimed. He possessed her body, her soul, with each long stroke.
He gave no quarter, holding her gaze to his. It was impossible to look away from the emotion she saw burning there. She devoured it like a greedy child, burying it deep in her heart where it would always be safe. Where no one could ever take it away.
She didn’t want it to end. But the feel of him, so big and full inside her, was too good. And it had been too long. Her body responded.
She lifted her hips to meet the gentle rhythm of his thrusts, increasing the speed as the sensations built inside her.
She gasped, moaned, cried as his thrusts grew longer, deeper, harder. He circled his hips, stirring her into a passionate frenzy.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him closer, wanting to increase the friction and the pressure. He moved his free hands to her bottom, gripping her harder, steadying her as the force of his thrusting intensified.
Everything moved, jarred by the fierce pounding of his body into hers.
It felt so good she couldn’t stand it. She arched her back, feeling her body clenching, gripping him harder and harder.
His face was a mask of strain, every muscle bunched and coiled. His arms flexed and the muscles lining his stomach stood out in stark relief.
“God, I’m going to come,” he grit out from between clenched teeth.
The knot of tightly wound muscles unwound as she spiraled into an abyss of pleasure so intense it stole her breath.
He stilled and cried out. She felt the flood of heat fill her as his release mixed with the spasming wave of her own.
Her legs fell from his waist. He bent over her, drained, as if he’d just run a long race. Collapsing on the bed, he dragged her up alongside him and held her in the circle of his arm. In a tangle of damp naked limbs, with her cheek pressed to his chest, their baby nestled between them, and her palm resting on his heart, she knew she’d finally found it. It had taken six and twenty years, but Mary had the love she’d been searching for her whole life.
Twenty-three
“When will you be back?”
Kenneth glanced back over his shoulder at the naked woman lying on the bed tangled in bedsheets. With her mussed hair and pouty bruised lips, Mary looked as though she’d just been very thoroughly ravished—which she had been. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to climb right back into bed and make love to her again.
It seemed he could think of nothing else. He had an almost desperate need to bind her to him. It was as if the more he made love to her, the stronger their love would be to weather the storm that was hovering on the not-so-distant horizon.
But if anything, it was making him more anxious about all that he had to lose. What if she never forgave him? He knew it was better to wait until she was somewhere safe to explain, but every instinct told him to tell her now. That every day he waited made his betrayal worse.
Unable to help himself, he set his knee on the bed, bent over her, and slowly kissed the pout from her lips. When she responded, threading her fingers through his hair and drawing his mouth closer to entwine her tongue with his, a shaft of heat ignited inside him and threatened to drag him under.
He had to tear his mouth away. “A couple of days. You won’t even have time to notice I’m gone.” He smiled, unable to resist teasing her. She’d been moving furiously around here the past few days since they’d arrived at Huntlywood Castle, like a bird building a nest. “Though perhaps you will have crenelated the tower house by then, and I won’t recognize the place.”
“Wretch.” She tossed a pillow at him. “Sir Adam said I was free to make the place as comfortable as I like for my stay here. It’s been some time since anyone has stayed in these upper chambers.”
“And you’ve taken to the task with enthusiasm.”
“Since it seems I will have much time on my own, what else is there for me to do?”
He felt a stab of guilt and instantly sobered. “I’ll come as often as I can. I know it’s not the same as being at the castle, but it won’t be for long.”
If she only knew just how short her stay would be. He hoped that in a matter of days—a week, no longer—he would have her safely ensconced in Scotland. Mary could stay with Helen and Campbell’s wife at Dunstaffnage. Close enough for him to reach her when the babe came. Later, he would send her north to Skelbo, the castle he kept for his brother.
She sat up, dragging the sheet along with her. Untangling a few strands of golden-blond hair from her lashes, she tucked it behind her ear. “I shouldn’t complain. I know it could be far worse. I’m fortunate to be this close to the castle. At Ponteland I would see you far less.”
“Sir Adam will be here to keep you company for a few more days.” He knew the answer, but he thought he’d try anyway. “Are you sure you don’t wish to reconsider? France …” He paused. “It might be a good idea. It will be safer for you there.”
Her expression fell, her eyes instantly growing large and round. “I don’t want to go to France, I want to stay here with you and Davey. I thought you wanted that, too.”
“I do,” he assured her. “It’s just that I worry about your safety while I am away. When war breaks out—”
“We have plenty of time for that. The king hasn’t even arrived yet. When you leave for Scotland, I will go farther south. To my dower estate in Kent if need be. But don’t send me away now—it’s too soon.”
He understood only too well what she meant. It was too soon. Their love was too new, too fragile. It needed time to strengthen before it was tested by distance—or deception, damn it. But it was time he didn’t have.
He leaned over and gave her a light peck on the cheek so he wouldn’t be tempted to linger. But the soft, velvety skin and faint floral scent worked its own magic. He wanted to sink into her. To inhale her sweet femininity.
He had to drag himself away. “Very well. You win. But only because I’m selfish and want you near me for as long as possible.”
A wide smile spread over her face, causing his chest to expand. “Are
you sure you must go? Is there no one else who can take a missive to Edinburgh?”
“Aye, I’m sure.” The rare opportunity to read Percy’s correspondence couldn’t be missed. Moreover, he’d had a message from his contact in the village that his friends were anxious to see him. This was the first chance he’d had to arrange a meeting with the Highland Guard at a safe distance from the castle—and Felton.
As he’d anticipated, Felton was watching him closer than before. Kenneth had half expected him to insist on joining him on the journey to Edinburgh. That he hadn’t asked bothered him.
He didn’t realize he was frowning until she said, “Is there something wrong? You’ve seemed distracted the past few days.”
His wife had learned to read his moods too well. “You mean other than that I will be spending the night in the cold rain with a half-dozen men rather than in bed with my wife?”
But she would not be so easily placated. She eyed him intently. “I know something is wrong.” She bit her lips, her eyes looming large in her face. “Does it have something to do with my sister? Have you had news?”
His chest squeezed, wishing there were some way to ease her sadness. He’d hoped to soften the sting of his betrayal with news of her sister, but so far he’d run headlong into a stone wall. His inquiries to Lamberton had been met with sharp resistance. Lamberton had instructed him in no uncertain terms to not disturb ghosts that had been laid to rest. Whether that was meant as a warning or a confirmation of her death, he didn’t know.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ve learned nothing more than you already know. The abbess insists no such nun has ever been there, and Brother Thomas has yet to return.”
“When he does—”
“When he does, I will talk to him.”
She relaxed back against the wooden headboard with a sigh. “Thank you.”
“I will return as soon as I am able.”
She nodded, and he turned to leave.
“Kenneth.”
He looked back at her.
“I love you.”
She seemed to be trying to tell him something. Almost as if she were trying to ease the turmoil she sensed wrestling inside him.
He smiled. “I know.”
He only prayed that when this was all over, she felt the same way.
They were pulling him out. Damn it, it was too soon. “I’m not ready,” Kenneth said. “I need more time.”
MacKay gave him a glance sharp enough to see in the moonlit darkness. “From what I hear, Ice, you are plenty ready.”
Ah hell. They must have heard about his fighting. Kenneth clenched his jaw, ready for the arse-chewing that he knew he was about to get.
MacKay didn’t disappoint. He never did when it came to that. “What the hell were you thinking? What if someone from the castle discovered what you were doing? You would have a lot of explaining to do.”
The fact that someone had discovered him made MacKay’s anger even more justified. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him about Felton. “It was the only way I could think of to keep my skills sharp. I won’t be much good to Bruce if I’m not ready when he needs me.”
“What he needs you to do is stay close to Percy and find out all you can about what Edward is planning. He doesn’t need you fighting in secret tourneys and ending up in a dungeon. Nor does he need you to worry about Clifford’s absences—or inquire about missing nuns, for that matter.”
Kenneth stilled. If MacKay knew about his inquiries, that meant Lamberton had told Bruce. It didn’t take Campbell-like senses to know they were hiding something. Which meant he’d just found the source of his stone wall, and worse, he suspected why it had been put there: they knew something. And he couldn’t tell Mary. He’d wanted to find a way to soften the blow for his deception; instead he was compounding the secrets between them.
“Leave him alone, Saint,” Ewen Lamont said from his place in the shadows. They stood in the forest just east of the Pentland Hills, a short distance from Edinburgh. Kenneth had managed to slip away from the rest of the men on his ride north to scout the road ahead, when he’d spotted them. But they didn’t have much time. “From what I hear, the recruit did us proud. No harm has come of it. And he’s brought us more than we could have expected.”
Kenneth didn’t know what surprised him more: that the acclaimed tracker had jumped to his defense or the length of the speech by which he’d done so. He didn’t think he’d heard Lamont string more than two or three words together at a time the entire duration of his training. Lamont, war name Hunter, was the polar opposite of MacSorley in social skills. Blunt was a nice way of putting it. Inept was another. The man said what he thought, when he wanted to, in as few words as possible.
Which made his partnership with Eoin MacLean easily the most muted of any of the pairings, as the famed battle strategist possessed a silent, grim intensity and also tended to keep his words to a minimum.
It was MacLean who spoke next. “This letter is just the confirmation we need. Now that we know Edward is sending supplies to Edinburgh Castle—and probably Stirling as well—in preparation for his campaign, it means we can guess the route he will take, which will make it easier to prepare our attacks. It’s time to put the plan for your exit in motion. From what we hear, one of Percy’s men has been asking a lot of questions about you. Edward’s ship is leaving from London any day. Why wait and risk something going wrong? Part of waging a successful mission is knowing when you should get out. You’ve done well—better than we could have hoped. But now you are needed with us. Bruce wants us with Douglas in the forest, gathering support and readying the troops.”
Kenneth shook his head. “It’s too easy.” He held up the letter that he’d been entrusted to deliver to the constable at Edinburgh. “Percy just happens to send me ahead with a message about an impending delivery? It doesn’t feel right.” The moment he’d read it, he’d known it was too good to be true. “Give me a little more time. As soon as Sir Adam leaves, I can get Mary away without anyone knowing; then we’ll see. We need to wait for Hawk anyway.”
With Mary’s pregnancy, he’d decided it would be easier to get her to safety by ship.
“And the young earl?” MacKay asked.
“Once we have him, I think he can be convinced.” He hoped. But Davey was hard to read and good at keeping his thoughts to himself. He was counting on the boy’s admiration for him, and Mary’s persuasion.
The three men looked at each other. After a moment, MacKay said, “Don’t take any chances. If something doesn’t feel right, get out of there. With three thousand English soldiers garrisoned nearby, we won’t be able to get you out of Berwick’s pit prison anytime soon. And as MacRuairi can tell you, it’s not a place you would wish to stay for long.”
Kenneth remembered. His brief stay had been long enough. “And if something does go wrong?”
His brother-in-law held his gaze. “We’ll take care of her.”
Kenneth nodded. Strange, but there was no man he would trust more with his wife than his former enemy. MacKay would take care of her. Whatever else happened, Mary would be safe. He could take solace in the knowledge that he’d kept one promise.
He just hoped it didn’t come to that.
Mary tugged on the leather handle, but the blasted thing wouldn’t budge. She plopped down atop the trunk and with a deep sigh blew a strand of hair from her face. She’d thought she might be able to move it by herself, but it had to be stuffed with rocks.
She had enlisted a few of the serving girls to help her clean the room in preparation for the baby, but they’d gone to ready the midday meal and she’d decided to continue without them.
The hard work seemed to keep her mind from inventing reasons to worry. Her husband was preoccupied with his duty, that was all. God knew Percy was keeping him busy. She’d seen so little of him since she’d left Berwick Castle. Already, it had been three days since he’d left for Edinburgh. There was no reason to worry. He would come when he coul
d.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. There had been an almost frantic, desperate edge to his lovemaking the last time he’d been here. She’d never felt closer to him, yet at times she felt him going somewhere in his mind that he would not take her.
She wanted his trust. She thought she had it. But what was bothering him and why wouldn’t he confide in her?
With another sigh, she stood. A billow of dust rose from her skirts as she shook them off, wiping her hands on her already filthy apron. For a small room, it had held an inordinate amount of dust—and spiderwebs, she thought with a shiver. Thankfully, the worst of it was gone. By the time they finished, this room would be spotless.
Returning to the problem of the trunk, she knelt down and lifted back the lid. She coughed as another blanket of dust was disturbed and the dank scent of mold and stale air filled her nose. It must have been years since someone had opened this.
She glanced inside. No wonder it had been so difficult to move. It wasn’t loaded with stones, but books. A veritable treasure trove of leather-bound portfolios, wrapped in exotic-looking fabrics that she recognized as having come from Outremer. There were also a few large potted jars, but as they were sealed with wax, she did not try to open them. Curious, she removed one of the books and flipped through the thick parchment pages.
It appeared to be a journal of some kind. Though she had some education, and could make out a few words, many of the entries appeared to have been written quickly, and the lettering was difficult to make out. But the drawings were beautiful. Flowers. Plants. Vistas. A veiled woman. And some of the strangest-looking animals she’d ever seen, including one that looked like a big, gangly horse with a long neck and hump on its back.
The book was magnificent. She would have opened another, but she heard a sound that made her jump to her feet.
She glanced out the small window and let out a yelp of excitement. He was back! Kenneth and a few of his men had just ridden into the yard.
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