by Gwyn Brodie
Verona took a seat beside Balfour, and proceeded to glare at Duncan and Kila the entire meal. He had always been a good judge of character, and there was something about those two that caused his hackles to rise whenever they were around.
The earl leaned back in his chair. "Duncan, what of Kade, Galen and Cin? Are they doing well?"
Duncan nodded. "Aye. The three of them were lucky enough to find the perfect wives for themselves." He glanced sideways at Kila. She was staring at her food, but eating very little. Was she remembering what he had said earlier, about wishing they had met before she was betrothed, as he was?
Aileen shook her head. "With Cin MacLeod's womanizing ways, I was certain 'twould be some time before he wed anyone, but apparently I was wrong. Have any of them bairns?"
A nine year marriage for her and Ranulf hadn't produced any offspring—which she desperately wanted. When they first wed, Duncan had wished for many wee nephews and nieces, but it seemed now that might never happen.
"Aye. Kade and Jillian have a son and daughter. Galen and Sorcha have twins—a wee lad and lass. And Cin and Claire have two sons."
Aileen's eyes widened. "Oh my! How lucky they are."
Making certain no one was watching, he slipped his hand beneath the table and gave Kila's a gentle squeeze to reassure her, then let go and rose from the table. "If you will excuse us, Connor, Eadan and I must see to the preparations for the journey."
Eadan shoved a couple more bites of venison stew into his mouth, and grabbed a chunk of bread, before getting up from the table and following his foster brothers out of the great hall. He caught up to them in the bailey. "What is this about preparations, Duncan? All has been seen to. What's going on?"
Connor eyed Duncan curiously. "I'd like to ken that myself."
"Let's go for a ride. I'm not yet certain which of the Murray guards I can trust," he said, his voice low.
A mile or so from the castle, he drew Tearlach to a halt and dismounted. He took a seat on a fallen tree at the edge of the wood.
"Out with it," Connor said, chewing on a blade of grass he plucked from the ground.
"I dinnae trust Verona or her brother, and neither should you."
Eadan frowned. "Have you been given cause?"
"Nay, no' yet. But there's something about them that makes me wary. All I'm saying is dinnae trust either of them too far."
AFTER NOT FINDING BALFOUR in his bedchamber, Verona went to the great hall, where she came across him seated by the fire. He pretended to read, but in truth he watched the female servant, Maggie, as she carried out her duties. "You really should be more choosy with whom you bed," she said, taking a seat beside him.
He raised a brow and put the book aside. "You're one to talk, Verona. You'd bed a gong farmer to get what you want."
"S-h-h," she said, looking around to see if anyone had heard him.
He grinned. "I really must applaud you on your acting, sister. You were glorious indeed, the way you pretended to care whether or not Kila was being bedded by that barbaric Highlander. And the part about Monro was simply delightful. I could hardly contain my laughter—or applause."
She smiled. "Much thanks. No one must ken the truth of it. I worry about that Highlander becoming too close to Kila. It could make it harder to rid ourselves of her."
He snorted. "You fash too much, Verona. Stick to the plan, and you will soon be wed to Monro in her stead."
Aye, and Lady Monro, she would be, and wed to a young man who could take care of all her womanly desires, unlike her last three husbands, of whom she'd soon grown weary.
Verona had fallen hard for Colin Monro the moment he walked into Windmere Castle. He was tall, and most handsome, with eyes as green as a spring meadow, and black shoulder-length hair that she ached to run her fingers through. She'd had no idea, at the time, he'd been summoned there to sign a contract to marry her stepdaughter. But no matter. Verona would find a way to be with the only man she had ever truly loved—regardless of what she had to do.
THE REMAINDER OF THAT day, and the next, Duncan saw Kila only at meals, as he needed to make certain all was readied for the following morning's departure. Those times, with her being so near, and him not being able to hold her, nigh made him daft.
Their last night at Stonehill Keep, he dreamed of Kila—her scent, her taste, the silkiness of her bare skin beneath his hands, and he awoke with a need unlike any he'd ever known. He crawled out of bed and stared through the window at the moonlit countryside. How could he walk away from her? He raked his fingers through his hair. Truth was—he couldn't.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, after breaking their fast and a round of goodbyes to Aileen and Ranulf, the travelers made their way into the bailey, where the horses were ready and waiting. Besides himself, Connor, Eadan, Kila and Verona, Balfour, and the two lady's maids, there were fifteen Murray guards, and fifteen Moncrieffe guards. Thirty guards, and the three of them, should be plenty of protection against an attack. Duncan didn't consider Balfour, for he believed he'd not be of much use when it came to a battle. More than likely, he'd find a safe place to crawl into and stay put until it was over.
Duncan lifted Kila onto her mare, and when she smiled down at him, his chest tightened. "Much thanks."
He nodded, and swung onto Tearlach. He, along with his foster brothers, had made the arrangements as to where everyone was expected to ride. He would be up front with Connor and Eadan, the guards, in back and to the sides, the women, Balfour, and the pack horses would be protected in the center.
Near noon they stopped for the midday meal. While the horses grazed on thick green grass beside the loch, and drank their fill, Duncan ate his cheese and bread, but his gaze kept wandering back to Kila. The more he was near her, and came to know her, the more his feelings for her intensified.
"'Tis time to leave," he said, heading to the loch to help Hern and Eadan retrieve the horses.
Connor stepped forward to help Kila onto her mare, but when he saw Duncan's expression, he backed away, a broad grin on his face.
When Duncan lifted her, his thumb accidently brushed against the underside of her breast, and her eyes widened.
He mounted Tearlach, not believing how such an innocent touch could cause such yearning, and wondered if she'd felt the same.
It was nigh on gloaming when Duncan fell back to ride alongside Kila. "Once we reach the loch, we'll stop long enough to rest the horses and allow them to graze and drink."
Verona frowned. "Will you no' allow us a bite, as well?" she snapped.
He took a deep breath, and carefully chose his next words. "Less than an hour's ride is an excellent inn, where we will have our supper and spend the night. Will that suffice, Lady Murray?"
She forced a smile. "Of course," she said, then looked away.
The strong winds had whipped Kila's long hair wildly about, and pinked her cheeks, making her look even more delectable. He could well image her looking the same after a long night of lovemaking. He clenched his teeth to still his desire, and again took his place between Connor and Eadan.
Verona moved her horse closer to Kila's. "The Highlander desires you greatly."
Kila couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You shouldnae say such things, Verona." Her face heated.
"I'm right, and you ken it."
Her stepmother was the last person she wished to speak to about her feelings for Duncan. "What if he does? Naught can come of it, for I'll soon be the wife of Colin Monro."
Anger flashed across Verona's face, then was gone, and Kila wondered why.
"Soon you will be bound to Laird Monro, a man you dinnae care for—nor love. I ken you care for the Highlander. I've seen the way you watch him, and I ken you think him quite handsome, for you've said as much."
Saints above! Where was this conversation headed? "What are you saying, Verona?"
"Only that, these next few weeks might be your last chance to be bedded by a man you truly care about."
She couldn't believe what she
was hearing. "You gave me a scolding for only going for a walk in the gardens with him. Now, you're saying I should bed him? My father signed a contract binding me to Colin Monro, and I will not allow myself to be compromised as long as that contract is in play. Besides, I would never act so wantonly. I have more respect for myself, as well as for Colin."
Anger again flashed across her face. "Take my advice, Kila, or else you'll lie in bed many a night wondering what you might have missed." She moved her horse away from Kila's, and they rode in silence the rest of the way to the inn.
CHAPTER SIX
Verona paced excitedly back and forth across the floor of Balfour's room at the inn. "I'll have to change my plans."
He raised a brow. "You couldnae convince Kila to allow the Highlander to bed her?"
She snorted. "Nay. The little fool is bound and determined to stay a virgin until she is wed. One night with the Highlander, that's all it would take, then, of course, I could make certain Colin was aware of her betrayal and he'd no' want her then, and break the contract."
Balfour grinned. "Leaving the marriage bed open for you to climb into."
She frowned. "You dinnae have to put it that way, but aye. You'd do well to remember, Balfour, 'tis no' only for myself, but for you as well. My being wed to Colin would allow you to live the way in which you've become accustomed."
He nodded. "Aye. So, tell me, what is this new strategy of yours, sister of mine?"
"Nightshade, as it leaves no trace of smell or taste."
"I should have known. 'Tis quick and leaves no witnesses, as well, and something you have a great deal of experience in using. Have you any of the poison with you?"
"Nay, but I can find all I need in the wood. Now, let's go down for supper. We'll discuss the details further beforehand." She thought of Colin and her pulse raced. Aye. He would be hers. The poison would see to it.
IN THE INN'S DINING room, Duncan took a seat beside Kila and pulled an empty trencher in front of them, filling it to the brim with steaming venison stew. He grabbed a warm loaf of bread, and tore off a chunk. "I'm so hungry, my stomach is gnawing on m' backbone."
Kila burst into laughter, eliciting curious stares from the other diners.
Duncan chuckled. "You've a lovely laugh, lass," he whispered, mesmerized by the twinkling of mirth in her amber eyes.
Her cheeks pinked. "Verona thinks I sound like a horse when I laugh."
He frowned. What woman would be so cruel as to tell her stepdaughter such a thing? The more he learned about Verona Murray, the more he disliked her. "Nonsense," he growled. "I enjoyed it very much, and hope to hear it more often."
"Much thanks," she said, smiling.
She looked so pleased, he wanted naught more than to take her into his arms and hold her, but a dining room filled with guests wasn't the place. Instead, he offered her a bite of his apple tart, and she accepted.
"You've missed a bite," he said, pointing to a crumb on her lower lip, which she quickly licked away with a flick of her pink tongue.
He groaned inwardly, and went back to devouring his stew, before he made a fool of himself. Once he'd eaten, he bid Kila good night, and left the table to check on the horses. After giving a tart to Tearlach and satisfying himself that all the horses had been watered and well fed, he returned to the inn and headed upstairs to his room. Duncan was determined to enjoy the soft bed, for he would be sleeping on the hard ground the following night.
He removed his clothing and slipped beneath the covers, certain he would sleep well after such a long day of travel. Instead, he tossed and turned, until exhaustion finally pulled him under.
Laird Monro sat at the high table, smiling, as Duncan escorted Kila across Whitestag Castle's great hall. "Much thanks for seeing my betrothed safely into my arms."
He nodded. That was all he could manage, for Kila's amber eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her lower lip trembled.
Duncan could hardly breathe, as he turned and walked away.
"Nay!" Duncan shouted, as he sat upright in bed. His heart pounded in his chest, as he gulped air into his lungs. There was no way he could walk away from Kila. Then what the hell was he going to do? He raked his fingers through his hair. He'd think of something—he had to.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, after a restless night, Duncan mounted and took his place between Connor and Eadan. Connor had insisted they leave the inn early, in order to make good use of the day, and he had been in agreement. The sun was shining, with nary a cloud in the sky. It was a fine day for travel, especially in Scotland, where a rain filled day was common. Then why did he feel so out of sorts?
Connor looked at him and raised a brow. "What the devil's wrong with you, this fine morn? Cat got your tongue? You've hardly spoken a word to either of us."
He sighed. "I've a lot on my mind."
Eadan snorted, then leaned toward him and whispered, "An auburn haired beauty, perhaps?"
Duncan glared at him, but he wasn't surprised that his thoughts were so visible. After all, he had grown up with them both and they knew him well.
Connor shrugged. "You ken, Duncan, we're here if you need to talk. God knows you've listened to our troubles and woes enough times over the years."
"Aye," agreed Eadan.
Duncan sighed. "Very well. Let's ride on ahead."
"We're listening," Connor said, once they were well out of hearing range of the others.
"You were right, Eadan, about it being the lass on my mind. Once we reach Whitestag Castle, I'll no' be leaving her with Monro—I cannae."
Eadan frowned. "Do you intend to wed her yourself?"
He nodded. "Aye, but I've no' spoken to her about it."
"Are you certain she doesnae wish to wed the laird?" Connor asked, glancing over his shoulder at Kila, riding a short distance behind.
"Aye," he said. But he had to be absolutely certain, before he asked her to become his wife. She'd said she had feelings for him, and always seemed to be watching him whenever he looked her way. And he didn't believe Kila was the sort of woman who would allow him to kiss her, or give him the liberties she had, if she wished to wed another man.
Connor exhaled loudly. "Then, I suggest you have a damn good plan in mind—do you?"
He shook his head. "Nay, but I'm working on one."
KILA SMILED, AS A RED squirrel jumped from one limb to another, scolding them for the intrusion into their territory. The early morning sun filtered through the branches and leaves of the trees lining the well worn path they traveled. Birds chirped and tweeted, as they flew in and out of the wood. A roe deer and two tiny fawns stood beside the path, before bounding into the thick wood to her right.
Her gaze moved to the three attractive Highlanders, wondering why they had ridden so far ahead. Perhaps Duncan needed to discuss something important with Connor and Eadan he wished no one else to hear.
Earlier that day, while breaking his fast, he'd seemed deep in thought, and they had spoken only briefly, before he had excused himself from the table to see to the final preparations for their departure.
A shaft of sunlight struck his long auburn hair, turning the strands to deep red. His powerful, well-built body moved with easy grace as he rode. When he turned toward Connor, she admired his handsome profile, and thought of how he'd kissed her, and the way his tongue had moved across the tops of her breasts. A flame of desire slowly spread through her, and she wanted naught more than to have him hold her—do to her what a man does to a woman. Though she'd told Verona she'd never allow herself to be bedded by a man other than her husband, the more she grew to care about Duncan, the more she thought about him making love to her. Did that make her a wanton woman?
The wind whipped his long hair about his face and broad shoulders, making him look even more the Highland warrior that he was. My Highland warrior. But truth was, he wasn't hers, nor would he ever be. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she forced herself to look away.
DUNCAN HAD TO ADMIT, he felt much better after talking with his
foster brothers about his feelings for Kila. And he might certainly be in need of their help, should his plan not go well—once he had one.
He swung back to ride beside her. "How are you holding up, lass?" They'd been riding for nigh on five hours, stopping only to rest the horses and stretch their legs.
She smiled. "As well as to be expected, I suppose. Riding all day doesnae bother you at all, does it?"
He laughed. "No' overmuch. I'm used to it, sometimes all day and night, for days on end, stopping only to rest the horses and to allow them to graze and drink—when I had the chance."
Her eyes widened. "During battle?"
He nodded. "Aye, then as well."
"Have you been in many battles?"
"I've seen my share, and more."
"Have you ever been injured?"
"Aye, but no' badly, but I've seen those who have been. I've seen a lot of men—some good friends of mine—die before my eyes."
She placed her small hand on his forearm, and its warmth spread like wildfire through him. "I'm glad 'twasn't you," she said, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
A hand closed around his heart and squeezed, taking his breath away.
After the midday meal, they didn't stop again until they were ready to settle in for the night. Earlier, Duncan had sent Connor and Eadan on ahead to find a sheltered clearing with nearby water, and a good lookout point.
Duncan dismounted. "Good job, lads. I couldnae have done better myself."
Eadan nodded. "'Tis the truth."
Connor laughed and took their three horses down to the loch, where he tethered and left them grazing beside the water.
Duncan lifted Kila down from her mare, and sparks ignited as her body slid down his own. He heard her quick intake of breath, and wanted naught more than to keep her pressed against him, kissing her until they both were weak with need. Reluctantly, he released her, and went to help Verona from her horse.