Tempted
Page 27
As cheers rolled around the hall, she glanced at him and saw his eyes were narrowed against laughter. He had said she was his new lady. She wondered just how many women had sat here beside him in the past and felt a stab of— surely not jealousy—contempt for his womanizing. Well, one thing was certain: These arrogant Douglases may not like her, but by God, they would never forget her, and that went double for Hotspur!
When the meat was served, a whole rack of lamb was set before Ramsay for him to carve. It was cooked to a turn, crisp on the outside and pink on the inside, and Tina knew Mr Burns had outdone himself. While she ate, Ram never took his dark eyes from her They lingered on her face, staring boldly into her golden eyes when she raised them to his, then they would drop to her mouth to gaze at her full underlip She felt warm under his close scrutiny His eyes lingered upon her mouth as if he were making love to it, and suddenly she knew what he had meant when he said even kissing had its foreplay.
She knew the roses bloomed and faded in her cheeks He radiated sexual hunger with every glance His eyes dropped still lower, and he indulged in imagining her naked That was a mistake He had been semihard yet comfortable, but now he was hard and throbbing, and he felt his blood beat in his throat and the palms of his hands He picked up his tankard of ale to cool his hands.
“Are you quite finished staring?” she demanded
He shook his head “I’ll never have enough The light from the torches makes ye all gold and shadow. Yer hair is burnished flame”
So the wooing has begun, she mused, not a little apprehensive that she had agreed to share his chamber His eyes touched her everywhere intimately, and slowly she realized that a feeling of excitement was growing inside her. His dark glances promised forbidden delights and tempted her to recklessness His blood grew ever warmer from the sight of her, and she knew it She could feel his raw desire reach out to touch her. Golden devils danced beneath her dark lashes “Why do you look at me so … intimately?” she asked, innocent as an angel.
“I’m trying to picture what undergarments ye chose to wear beneath the yellow silk”
“You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever known”
“I certainly hope so,” he said with relish, and a feeling of exultation surged within him that he had taken the prize from beneath Patrick Hamilton’s nose. In fact, if Hamilton ever dared touch her, they wouldn’t be able to identify him.
He had promised to leave her in peace so she might sleep this first night, yet not for a moment did she believe he would keep that promise.
Ram had made up his mind to take her upstairs as soon as his erection was not quite so evident. Suddenly two men rushed into the hall and raised the alarm. “The signal fires are blazing!”
Ram Douglas was on his feet instantly, running for his mail shirt and broadsword. He never glanced back.
Chapter 21
The village of New Abbey, a dozen miles to the east, had been attacked by English borderers, but by the time Douglas and his men arrived, the freebooters had departed. They had stripped every building of anything of value, including the church. They had driven off the animals and even stolen food supplies. They had killed men, raped women, and set the thatched homes ablaze before moving on.
Another signal beacon glowed on a hill, and Ram knew the English swine were ravaging the village of Kirkbean, four miles away. His anger blazed hotter than any fire. He left half his men to aid the victims of New Abbey and headed for Kirkbean.
Ram intended to capture some of the raiders alive to learn whence they had come and on whose orders, but he found he was outnumbered three to one after leaving half his men behind. They knew they must slaughter or be slaughtered, and a fierce and bloody battle ensued.
The animals had already been driven off, and Ram knew the number of looters had been even greater. A dozen English lay dead while Douglas men had received only wounds. Ram’s thigh suffered a long sword gash that was bleeding profusely, but he was almost certain it had not gone deep enough to sever tendon or bone.
The inhabitants of Kirkbean told the border lord that three of their women had been carried off with the cattle. Ram vowed to return them, and he rode hell for leather toward the rocky coast. Again they were too late. A ship had weighed anchor, and another was fast disappearing into the darkness of Solway Firth toward the shores of England.
Because they had been so hotly pursued, they abandoned the women but not before they had slit their throats. Ramsay, Jock, and Cameron drew rein and dismounted when they came across the bodies of the women. Cameron turned away and vomited into the gorse. Ram pressed a fist to grim lips and closed his eyes. If he hadn’t given his promise to return the women, he would have buried them where they lay. It would have been kinder to let them think the women had only been stolen.
“Since when do borderers raid by ship?” Jock asked Ram.
“The whoresons have received their orders from a high authority. Dacre—or mayhap King Henry himself.” He gazed out to sea in that early hour before dawn and made a decision, then he spoke to his moss-troopers: “Tomorrow we man our own ships. Most of ye know how tae crew a vessel, and those who don’t will learn in a hell of a hurry.”
Jock, Ram’s first lieutenant, said, “I’ll round up our wounded back at Kirkbean. Get ye tae Douglas and get that leg cauterized.”
Ram shook his head. “I’ll ride tae Kirkbean first. I promised tae return the women. Are ye all right, Cameron?” he asked, wishing he’d left his young brother to stay and help the people of New Abbey.
* * *
Ada and Tina had sat talking for two hours in the luxurious master bedchamber at Castle Douglas. Ada sewed upon a shift as finespun as a dream. It was the palest sea-foam green, and she told Tina she was going to make her some very saucy garters with red hearts on them. “You don’t think his lordship will think we are mocking the Bleeding Heart of Douglas, do you?”
Tina laughed and shook her head. “It matters not—Ram Douglas has a sense of humor.” She embroidered a cream linen shirt with his initial. She had debated whether to use the R or the D and finally settled on the D because she refused to call him by his first name.
Soon Tina began to yawn, and they set aside their embroidery silks. “It seems I shall have this fine chamber to myself tonight after all,” she mused. Ada gave her a swift glance from beneath her lashes. Did she detect a note of disappointment?
Tina laid a deep purple bedgown across the foot of the bed in case Douglas returned in the middle of the night. She would cover herself as a defense against those dark, hungry eyes. She slept soundly until a couple of hours past midnight, then she awoke, and when she saw he had not returned, she became restless and dozed only fitfully. A vague feeling nagged at her.
Certainly it was not worry over his safety—it was a nameless feeling of unease. It was dawn before she heard horses and men clatter into the bailey, and she knew she could stay abed no longer. She put the bedgown over her lavender nightrail and slid her feet into her slippers.
She took the torch from its bracket in the passageway and ran down the winding staircase to await his entrance through the massive studded door. When no one entered, she became impatient. She preferred to be in the thick of things, not to stand waiting patiently in the shadows.
She went out into the bailey and began to make her way to the stables, but incredibly, she saw they were all at the forge. Ram had lost enough blood to make him lightheaded. When he dismounted, he swayed on his feet, his weight bringing a throbbing pain up the entire length of his leg. He leaned heavily oh Jock’s shoulder until he reached the forge, and Valentina arrived just in time to see two of his men-at-arms lift him onto a workbench. He caught sight of that flaming head in the torchlight and ground out harshly, “Get her out of here!”
“Hold!” she cried in alarm. “What are you doing to him?”
Cameron put a hand to her shoulder. “Cauterizing a wound he took. Go back to bed.”
“Nay, I’ll do no such ridiculous thing.”
“Stop what you do instantly! Bloody barbarians, the lot of you! You there, Jock—carry him up to our chamber.”
“The bleeding must be stopped,” Ram said harshly. “Don’t interfere in men’s affairs.”
“I will stop the bleeding by stitching the leg,” she declared firmly.
“You?” Ram asked incredulously.
“Certes, me!”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Ye willna faint at the sight of my blood?”
“Ha! Celebrate, more like. Fetch him up,” she repeated. She thought it uncivilized that the Douglas had no woman to tend his wounds. She would take perverse pleasure in having him at her needle’s mercy.
To Ramsay, this was a novelty indeed. That his woman came down in her bedgown to see how he fared and that she offered to tend his wound herself was unbelievable. That she cared about whether that wound and its cauterizing left him scarred was nothing short of a miracle.
Jock and Cameron carried him upstairs, and she swept the lynx cover from the bed and told them to lay him upon the linen sheet. She picked up her scissors and began to cut away his leather breeks. “Don’t stand there like a clod!” she told Cameron. “Fetch hot water.” He ran to do her bidding, and Jock grinned, “Would ye like me tae hold him still for ye, lady?”
Ram ground out, “I won’t be the one tae flinch. Are ye sure ye’ve guts enough fer this, lass?”
“A wager,” she proposed, “that my hand will be steadier than your leg.”
Ram’s eyes narrowed, and he jerked his head toward the door, ordering Jock to depart. Cameron came back with hot water, and Ram said, “Go and gloat over some other’s wound. We wish tae be alone.”
His chausses were saturated with blood, and she cut them away along with the leather of his breeks. When she exposed the jagged wound, she blushed that it reached from inside his knee up to his groin. As she washed and cleansed it, he held his leg steady as a rock, and she thought, wait until I stick my needle through your flesh.
A deep frown came between his black brows as he eyed her needle. When she saw at what he scowled, the corners of her mouth lifted. “I shall sew you up with cream silk and embroider it with French knots,” she teased. She took a deep breath and deftly plunged in her needle.
“There’s no need for such dainty stitches,” he told her.
“Don’t teach you grandmother how to suck eggs. You are ugly enough—I don’t want you scarred into the bargain.”
He grimaced. “Too late, when ye see me naked, ye’ll faint.”
“Ha! I’ll not faint over a man’s scars.”
“‘Tis not my scars that’ll make ye faint,” he promised, grinning.
“Oh!” she said, and dropped a stitch. “You have a swollen head.”
“Aye, among other things,” he said wickedly.
She was working very close to his genitals, and remembering how they had hurt her, she jabbed him with the needle “Sorry”
“Yer not, Vixen. Yer in yer element having me at a disadvantage.”
She compressed her lips and concentrated upon knotting the silk after the final stitch “There Anything else?” she half-asked herself.
“I have a tremendous thirst, lass,” he said low.
“Forgive me. How thoughtless I am. It’s because you lost so much blood.” She summoned a page and sent him running for a jug of ale. “Perhaps you’d prefer whisky for the pain?” she asked anxiously.
He shook his head. “Ale is fine.”
When it came, he quaffed the whole jug, then lay back. It was the first time Tina had ever seen him look tired. When she drew the lynx fur cover over him, he took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Thank ye. I promise we won’t always sleep in shifts,” he said with a humorous gleam in his eye.
In the early afternoon when Tina went up to check on him, she was surprised to find him up and dressed, writing missives. “You shouldn’t be on that leg.”
He looked at her, weighing her words to see if her concern was genuine or assumed. He cared naught for the wound, but he found he cared deeply about her solicitude. “There are matters that need my attention The English raided by ship. Every coastal town, village, and farm will be vulnerable.”
“But Donal and Meggie are at Castle Kennedy on the coast! We must warn them.”
“I’ll send a message, if it will make ye feel better, but they won’t raid the castle if they know the Kennedys are in residence.”
“Donal’s men-at-arms are not like your hard-bitten soldiers, Douglas,” she pointed out. “Few are,” he replied. “They only dared come within a dozen miles of Castle Douglas because they thought we were still north, and one day earlier we would have been.” He frowned. Someone must be leaking information, or else it was outright spying. He was jaded enough to suspect everyone, even the people within his own castle.
Ram did not wish to alarm her, and he kept his mouth shut about the women who had been carried off. “I’m sending to Angus for another fifty Douglases. Ye’ll be quite safe here.”
She shrugged a pretty shoulder. “‘Tis not the English I fear.”
“Surely it’s not me—I’m wounded and harmless.”
“Harmless as a scorpion!”
He arose from the desk. “I was hoping ye were woman enough tae draw my sting.” As their eyes met and held, the very air was charged with sexual tension. He drew close and lifted a flaming tendril. It curled wildly about his fingers. He lifted it to his nose to inhale its fragrance. “Honeysuckle,” he murmured, and she was surprised that he was knowledgeable about such feminine things.
He traced the tendril down his throat, and his look became so intense, she lowered her lashes. She was acutely aware of the dark shadow of his unshaven jaw and remembered the shockingly masuline feel of it against her skin.
“I’ll shave for ye,” he whispered, and her lashes flew up, wondering if he could read her every thought. He slid his hands about her neck and thumbed her velvet skin. Her golden eyes went liquid with apprehension. How simple a thing it would be for him to snap her neck if he wanted to rid himself of her. Instinctively, she moved her hand toward his wounded thigh, ready to claw at it if his hands tightened.
“My red vixen,” he whispered, covering her hand with his, rendering it useless as a weapon. He wanted that hand at his groin, feeling him swell to bursting when he kissed her, yet he longed for her to touch him of her own volition. He dipped his dark head, and his lips brushed her soft mouth. “Take supper here wi’ me tonight?” It was an invitation rather than an order, yet no less compelling. He whispered, “Early to bed, early to rise …”
For a moment Tina thought he would fill her hand with his “rising,” but he resisted the temptation to force her. His pewter eyes held a silent invitation that she intended to accept, despite her apprehension She gathered her courage. “Devil-eyed Douglas, how am I to resist you?” she purred.
His face was unreadable, but she could have sworn her words pleased him. When he departed, she sank to the bed on knees weak as water. “I shall always hate you.” She sighed, as softly and gently as a kiss.
Tina summoned Nell to strip the bed and freshen the chamber, then hurried off to the kitchens. “Mr. Burns, the lamb was exemplary last evening. I hope it was the rule rather than the exception, and I hope your culinary experience lends itself to other than mutton. If not, Mr. Burque will soon tutor you.”
Valentina drew the Frenchman aside for a private word, and Mr. Burns turned to his wife for a translation. “She’s no’ ready tae hoof ye in the sporran just yet,” then added silently, But she’s right about learning a few tricks from Mr. Burque!
“Mr. Burque, Lord Douglas and I will be dining privately tonight. I’d like something special.”
“How about the salmon you caught?”
“Oh yes, that should really please him, and don’t forget dessert.”
“If he has, it’s the only sweet thing about him,” Tina said, laughing.
Colin came into the kitchen looking quite drawn. “Was Ram wounded badly?”
“No, not really. It was an ugly enough gash that bled a lot, but it will heal quickly,” she assured him.
He asked a scullion for alkanet and inquired if there was any syrup of poppy.
“Were others wounded?” Tina asked him
He nodded “None fatally,” he assured her When he was told there was no syrup of poppy, he cursed. “There was plenty last time I was here Things are forever going missing”
“Perhaps it’s the ghosts,” Tina said lightly.
“Ghosts!” he scoffed “Grown men don’t believe in such.”
“Ramsay does,” she assured him. “He believes the spirit of Damaris lingers.”
“Wishful thinking,” Colin muttered. “He fancied himself in love with Damaris He and Alex came tae blows more than once” Colin’s mouth snapped shut as if he had said too much, and he immediately changed the subject. “Perhaps yer gifted Mr Burque can concoct somethin’ fer pain”
“He is a miracle man He once cured an agonizing toothache for me.” As she made her way back upstairs, her mind was busy. What was it Mad Malcolm had said when he insisted Alex hadn’t poisoned Damaris?” “ ‘Tis the other young swine,” he had said. How old had Ram been when the tragedy occurred? Seventeen or eighteen would certainly fit the description of young swine, she thought as a seed of suspicious horror took root.
Ada brought the sea-foam green negligee she had finished embroidering. “I think you should wear this tonight —with a velvet bedgown covering all, of course.”
Tina shook her head. “He’d have it off me in less than a minute and probably in shreds. I intend to be fully dressed from head to toe” She chose a gown of palest pink, and every last one of her undergarments matched down to her stockings, slippers, and garters. She even chose to wear a ruff and selected a pink and silver-tissue creation. The effect was quite dramatic in the pink and black room