by Gwyn Brodie
The woman had a way of looking down her nose at Duncan, even though he was more than a head taller. "How many more nights must we be forced to sleep out in this wilderness? Are there no more inns?"
"We'll reach the nearest inn in another day's time. We will rest there one night, before reaching Whitestag. I've a question to ask of you."
She narrowed her eyes. "What question?"
"Do you ken anyone who might wish to harm Lady Kila?"
She raised a brow. "Everyone adores my stepdaughter. Haven't you noticed?"
Evidently, not everyone. "If anyone comes to mind, please let me ken."
"Of course," she said, then turned away, dismissing Duncan as if he were a servant of the lowest rank.
Kila exited the tent as he crossed the clearing. He frowned. The bruise on her cheek had darkened, and she looked exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes. Tonight, at least, she'd have a chance to catch up on her sleep and regain her strength, before the long ride the following day. "How do you feel, lass?"
She yawned. "Exhausted, but for the life of me, I couldnae fall asleep."
He frowned. "Are you fashing about the attempts on your life?"
She nodded.
He drew her into his arms, no longer caring who saw. "I'd give my own life to protect yours."
Tears welled up in her eyes. "I ken that you would."
He took her by the hand. "Come, sit with me." He led her to an outcropping of stone, out of hearing distance of the others, and they sat down. "We need to talk, Kila."
She looked up at him. "Aye?"
Duncan blew out a breath. "When we reach Whitestag, I plan to ask Monro to break his marriage contract with you."
Her eyes widened. "You do?"
He nodded. What if he'd been wrong and it wasn't him she wanted?
"Why, Duncan. Tell me why you wish to break the contract?"
He looked into her eyes. "You ken why, lass."
She raised a brow. "Perhaps I do. But I wish to hear you say it."
"I love you and want you for my wife—if you'll have me. Will you?"
She smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. "I thought you would never ask."
He grinned. She'd agreed to marry him. Now, if only Monro would agree not to marry her, all would be well.
DUNCAN MET CONNOR AND Eadan as they rode into camp, then walked with them down to the loch to tether their horses. "What did you find out?"
Connor rubbed the gold stubble on his chin. "Before reaching the mill, we untied the two kidnappers and sent then forward, whilst Eadan and I waited in the wood. No one showed up. We searched the place from top to bottom, but found naught."
He frowned. "He must have realized something was amiss and left beforehand. What did you do with the two who took Kila?"
"We cut them loose, and sent them on their way. Our only other option would have been to bring them back here and take them along with us. Eadan told them if we ever saw them again, we'd hang them for kidnapping."
Duncan grinned. "Good. Get something to eat, and then some sleep. And by the way, Kila has agreed to become my wife," he whispered, still not believing it himself. "And I plan on asking Monro to break the marriage contract, because she no longer wishes to be his wife."
Connor blew out a hard breath. "I assume you ken what you're doing, Duncan, but what if you manage to anger Monro?"
Duncan slipped an arm around each of their shoulders. "I'm no' fashing. I've got the two of you watching my back."
IT WAS NIGH TIME FOR supper the following day when they finally reached The Dancing Mare Inn. The jovial landlord had them shown to their bedchambers, promising to fetch them once supper was served.
With several attempts already made on Kila's life, Duncan waited outside her bedchamber to take her downstairs to the dining room. His stomach growled again, protesting its hunger. "Kila, everyone awaits you below."
"I'll be right there," she said, then opened the door. She'd changed into another gown, one which more than adequately displayed her ample cleavage. As she stepped into the corridor, she inadvertently brushed against him, adding kindling to an already smoldering fire. What the devil was she up to?
"You look beautiful, Kila." Tempting was a more fitting word.
She beamed. "Much thanks," she said, slipping her arm through his.
Duncan would have had a difficult time telling anyone what he ate, for he only had eyes for Kila. And to Duncan's dismay, he wasn't the only one with their gaze on her. He kicked Conner beneath the table, and glared at Eadan, who was too far down the table for his boot to reach.
"Why'd you do that?" Connor whispered, playing the innocent.
"You ken why," he said, then returned to his meal.
Once supper was over, he escorted Kila back to her bedchamber, and checked every nook and cranny.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing, as Duncan poked his head beneath the bed. "Surely you dinnae think someone would be hiding in my room? Besides, Wyn is here with me."
"Aye, but if someone truly wished to do you harm, he'd no' let two wee lasses, such as yourself and your maid, stand in his way," he insisted, rising to his feet.
She sighed. "I suppose you're right. Much thanks."
He nodded. "I bid you good night." He stopped and turned when he reached the door. "Secure the door behind me, and open it to no one. Until 'tis known who is after you, trust none, save Wyn, Connor, Eadan, or myself. Is that clear, Kila?"
She nodded. "Aye."
One nod and he was gone.
Wyn secured the door. "Shall I help ye ready yerself for bed?"
She looked at the maid and smiled. "Bring me the smock I had made for my wedding night."
The maid's eyes widened, but she said naught and went to retrieve it.
If Monro refused to break the contract, one last night was all Kila had left with Duncan. She wasn't daft. She knew very well bairns came from making love, and she also knew there were ways to keep a woman from getting with child, though she was unacquainted with any herself, she prayed Duncan was familiar with at least one.
Duncan paced the floor. Sleep eluded him, as it had most nights since he'd met Kila. He raked his fingers through his long hair, and blew out a breath. He couldn't just hand her over to Monro, and walk away. He had to convince Monro to break the contract, but Kila was a beauty, a woman any man would want in his life—as well as his bed. But what if he refused?
A soft knock sounded at the door.
He secured his plaid about his hips, then answered the door. Kila! "Is something amiss, lass?" he asked. Her long dark hair hung loose about her shoulders, framing her exquisite features.
When she realized he was nigh naked, her amber eyes widened, her cheeks pinked, and the candle in her hand shook slightly. "May I come in?" she asked, a distinct tremble to her voice.
"Aye, of course." He stepped aside, until she entered, then closed the door. "Did anyone see you come here?"
She shook her head.
"Good. What is it, lass?"
She carefully placed the candle on the table, then unfastened the clasp at her throat and let her cloak slide to the floor, leaving her wearing naught but a smock of the finest linen, embroidered with tiny pink roses.
Duncan inhaled sharply.
She took a step toward him. "Make love to me, Duncan," she whispered.
He swallowed hard. "Do you no' think I want to? I've thought of little else since I first laid eyes on you, lass."
She went to him, and placed her hands on his bare chest. Her whisky colored gaze begged him to take her. To satisfy the need he saw there.
He looked away, fighting a need of his own that was nigh driving him mad. He suddenly growled and pulled her against him, kissing her with a hunger he'd never known.
She returned his kisses, running her hands over his chest, his arms, his back, her every touch heightening his desire.
His hands moved over her, accessing every shapely curve beneath the gossamer fabric. If he didn't stop now, there w
ould be no turning back. He reluctantly lifted his head and looked down at Kila. Her lids were heavy and her lips rosy. "We must no', lass."
Tears welled up in her dark eyes. "What if Colin willnae break the contract? We would at least have one night together."
He raised a brow. "What changed your mind?"
She turned her back to him and slowly walked to the window. "You did."
He moved to where she stood. "Me? How?"
Her eyes shimmered with tears. "Are men always so daft when it comes to matters of the heart? You said you loved me."
And he did, more than life itself. She was willing to give herself to him, even with the chance Monro might want to keep her for himself. His chest tightened. "I'll no' get you with child and have another man raise it as his own. I'm no' that kind of man, Kila."
"Nay, I ken you're no', but I thought that p-p-perhaps..." she stammered, without looking at him.
"Perhaps what, lass?"
"You knew of a way..." she trailed off.
He moved behind her, slipping his arms about her waist, marveling at how perfectly she fit. "Aye, there are ways, but I love you, lass, and I'll no' allow you to give yourself to me, only to have you wed another man."
She turned to face him, tears sparkling in her beautiful eyes. "I love you, as well, but where does that leave us, Duncan?"
He nodded. "Aye, and I dinnae think he'll give you up without a fight, if he willnae listen to reason. You're a beautiful young woman with a sizable dowry."
She stood on her toes, pressing her lips against his. "Then allow me one night with you."
Her eyes widened when he let his plaid drop to the floor.
His good sense flew out the window when he covered her mouth with his, kissing her with an all consuming need. After a moment, he lifted her into his arms, then gently placed her on the bed. I'll no' compromise you, lass, but I will make love to you."
Kila's heart pounded, as his stretched out on the bed beside her, kissing her while his hand caressed her cheek and throat. He slid the shift from her shoulders, and down her arms, til it bunched at her waist, then lowered his mouth to her breasts. His tongue sent shivers of desire racing through her, and she softly moaned.
Lifting his head, he looked down at her with eyes dark with passion. He grasped the hem of her shift, tugged it over her hips, down her legs, then tossed it aside. His gaze traveled slowly over her. "You're absolutely breathtaking." His hand slid across her belly, then down to the apex of her thighs. She gasped when he touched her.
He stroked her, until the fire he had kindled within her leapt into flames, licking higher and higher until the world shattered into a million tiny embers. She clung to him and cried out his name.
He covered her mouth with his, savoring the softness of her full pink lips. His body ached with desire and he wanted naught more than bury himself deep inside Kila and make love to her. But as long as she was betrothed, he would not allow himself the pleasure.
She looked up at him through lowered lashes. "I never knew that was even possible."
He kissed the corner of her mouth. "There's so much more to love making than that, Kila, and I look forward to showing you all of it—once you are truly mine."
She turned to face him, and snuggled against his chest. "I love you, Duncan."
He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. "And I love you." He never knew such love existed, until he met Kila—and there was still a chance he might never have her.
A COCK CROWED. KILA opened her eyes and jumped out of bed. She'd spent the night in Duncan's bedchamber. If only she could spend every night for the rest of her life wrapped in his arms, she would be happy. She grabbed her smock and yanked it over her head. "Duncan, wake up, 'tis morn."
He leaped out of bed. "Saints above! You've got to get back to your bedchamber before someone finds out you slept here last night." He reached for her cloak and fastened it around her shoulders. "How could I have been so daft as to have fallen asleep before sending you back?" He ran to the door, and cracked it only enough to peer out. "'Tis clear, lass. Hurry." He kissed her, then sent her on her way.
Tightly wrapped in her cloak, Kila rushed down the corridor and into her bedchamber. Thankfully, she'd not run into anyone and breathed a sigh of relief—until she turned around and realized Verona was also there. "What are you doing here?"
Her stepmother looked so much like a cat that had just caught a mouse, she expected her to begin licking the back of her hand at any moment. "Where have you been, Kila?" She raised a brow in expectation.
Kila didn't answer. What could she say? I spent the night in one man's arms, even though I'm betrothed to another?
Verona snorted. "It doesnae matter. I already ken where you spent the night—in MacDonell's bed."
"'Tis no' what you think, Verona. Naught happened." She felt sick to her stomach.
She chuckled. "No matter. You may still be a virgin, which is most unlikely after being in bed with that barbarian, but once Colin finds out you spent the night with another man, he'll toss you out on your arse."
Kila opened her mouth to tell her she didn’t care. That Duncan, the man she loved, had asked her to marry him, and that she had accepted, but decided against it, for he had yet to ask Laird Monro to break the contract. All she knew was that she wanted no other man, save Duncan.
"He might even call the Highlander out for a duel, or have him killed. Did you think of that while you were lying in his arms?"
Kila narrowed her eyes. "If he does find out, and refuses to marry me, what will you and Balfour do? Return to Windmere and live in the dowager house, which, as you've said many times, doesnae meet your high standards? Or go back to your own clan—if they're daft enough to allow the two of you to return?"
"Dinnae fash about me and Balfour. We'll be fine. 'Tis yourself and MacDonell you should be fashing about."
Kila knew Verona. She had something up her sleeve, but what?
Verona got to her feet. "Dinnae forget, Kila. I warned you. You should have listened."
Kila didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You warned me? 'Twas you who said I should allow Duncan to bed me. What are you about, Verona?"
She looked visibly shocked by Kila's accusation. "I am your chaperone, why would I say such a thing? 'Tis my job to see that you arrive untouched to your betrothed."
Kila frowned. "You're lying and you ken you are."
Verona only smiled, and left the bedchamber.
Kila paced back and forth wringing her hands. What if when Duncan asks Monro about breaking the contract, he becomes angry and demands a duel? Nay. She could never allow such a thing to happen. She would gladly wed Colin, before she allowed anything to happen to Duncan.
"Wyn, how long has she been in here?"
"Nigh on two hours, m'lady."
Kila blew out a breath, and sat down on the window seat. Verona cared about no one but herself—except for that no good brother of hers. Kila had no doubt she would fill Colin's ear with all she knew—and more—the first chance she got.
She jumped up from her seat. "Help me get dressed." She had to warn Duncan.
DUNCAN SMILED WHEN he saw Kila enter the dining room. Aye, she was a beauty, but so much more than that, and he couldn't wait to make her his wife.
She took a seat beside him, and he noticed for the first time she looked worried.
He frowned. "Is something amiss, lass?"
"Aye," she whispered. "Verona was waiting for me when I returned to my bedchamber. She kens, Duncan. She kens we spent the night together."
"Dinnae fash, lass. All will be well." He hoped he'd made Kila feel better, because he sure as hell didn't. He had to make absolutely certain Verona Murray didn't have the laird's ear before he did. If she were to go to Monro and tell him what she knew, before Duncan had a chance to speak with him, Monro would certainly break the contract. But then what would he do to him and Kila?
CHAPTER NINE
The last day of the journey, Duncan ro
de beside Kila. He knew her well enough to know she was anxious, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't. If all went well, after today, she would be his. He clung to that thought, as Whitestag Castle came into view. It sat perched on a hill, surrounded by a high wall, and protected on two sides by a sizable loch. Its stones were light gray, and reflected the waning light. A single tower loomed above the rest of the castle. Even though it appeared welcoming, he couldn't shake off the apprehension that gnawed at him.
He let out a low whistle to get his foster brothers attention.
Connor and Eadan rode up beside him.
"I must speak with Monro before Lady Murray has a chance. Keep her away from the laird as long as you can."
They nodded, then returned to the forefront.
"Kila, I need you to do the same. If she angers him, he will never listen to what I have to say."
She nodded, her young brow creased with worry.
He wished he could take her into his arms and kiss away her fears, like he had the night before in his bedchamber, but that would have to wait, for now wasn't the time, or the place.
Duncan, Connor and Eadan, rode up to the portcullis.
"Who goes there?" a guard holding a bow shouted from the ramparts.
"Tis I, Duncan MacDonell, and these are my foster brothers, Connor MacLeod and Eadan Matheson, escorts to Lady Murray and Lady Kila."
The guard disappeared for a moment, then returned. "Leave all yer weapons at the gate."
Once they were all disarmed, another guard raised the portcullis, and they entered into the bailey.
Duncan dismounted and tossed his reins to a waiting stables lad.
An elderly man came across the bailey. "I'm James, Laird Monro's steward."
"I wish a private word with your laird," Duncan said, praying Monro would honor his request.
"Please, come with me." They followed him into the castle. "Wait here," he said, then disappeared up the stairs, but soon returned. "The laird will see you now," he told Duncan.
His gaze met Verona's, and the smirk on her face sent a chill up his spine. The steward led him up the stairs and down a wide corridor, decorated with deer antlers, paintings, and colorful tapestries. Once they reached the solar, the steward left Duncan alone inside to wait for Monro. Much too anxious to sit, he walked to the window and looked out. Gloaming was nigh upon them, and the torches in the bailey below were being lit by the servants.