Tempted

by Virginia Henley

  His eyes narrowed. “Ye are bought and paid for with gold, Vixen! I expect ye tae perform for me.”

  She dug her hands into her hips and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “As a matter of fact, you are the one who is bought and paid for with land and ships I expect you to perform for me!”

  His powerful hands closed painfully over her shoulders. “Never speak tae me in that insolent manner again,” he said harshly.

  She licked her lips over him “Anger and lust are a potent combination,” she teased

  “I’ll show ye potent,” he growled, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her upstairs He set her feet to the carpet, and she whirled away from him to fling open the parapet door The throbbing music and laughter floated up from the courtyard and insinuated itself about the chamber.

  For the first time he noticed she was wearing the gown with the tawny markings of an exotic animal—the one she had worn with the chain about her neck when she had been given as a prize to the king. Possessive jealousy now mingled with his lust and anger.

  Tina kicked off her shoes, raised her arms above her head, and began to undulate with the music. Her movements were hypnotic, holding him mesmerized. At first her motions were subtle, teasing, tempting, but gradually her gestures became more overtly sexual. She lifted her skirt to peel off her stockings, then fastened the knife about her thigh.

  Slowly, sensuously she lifted off her dress and threw it at Ram. He caught it deftly and buried his face in it to inhale her fragrance. Then she removed her undergarments and threw them at him. He lifted them to his nostrils to savor her woman’s scent. She was naked now, save the knife, and he wondered where in the name of hellfire she’d learned this erotic dance. The answer came back immediately: She’d spent too much goddamn time in Gypsy camps! He had been leaning his wide shoulders against the mantel of the fireplace, but he straightened and took a threatening step toward her.

  “Hold!” she ordered, withdrawing her knife from its sheath and aiming it directly at his heart. His eyes widened in horror as he saw her draw back her arm and fling it toward him. The gold pieces he’d given her hit him in the chest and rolled merrily across the carpet, while miraculously the deadly blade never left her fingers. She sheathed it and threw back her head with laughter. “I’ll fuck you for free, Hotspur!” She stepped before the mirror to admire herself.

  He was inflamed to madness and knew that was her intent. He grasped her about the waist and lifted her ceiling-ward until she screamed. “Ye look at yer tits the way I look at my cock,” he said huskily, tossing her upon the bed while he tore off his clothes. “Ye enjoy playing the wild little bitch,” he said, biting her neck, then running his tongue around her ear.

  “I enjoy matching you in sensuality,” she admitted. His eyes were black with passion as he straddled her.

  “Match this,” he challenged, then proceeded to lick and suck and tongue her throat, her breasts, and her belly with a mouth ravenous with hunger for her. Ram lifted his head to watch her lips part and moan with breathless pleasure. Her eyes grew languid with the loving, and he was thrilled with her physical and vocal response.

  Golden devils danced in her eyes as she crooked a finger and beckoned him closer. How could he come closer to her? Unless, praise God, she wanted him to bring his sex closer. With his knees still on either side of her body, he slowly moved up until the tip of his phallus almost touched her chin. Very delicately, like a cat licking its paw, the tip of her tongue touched the velvet head, and it turned carmine as it engorged with blood. She found the ridge and placed her lips just beneath it, then swirled her tongue around, tantalizing, teasing, tempting, tasting.

  Ram arched his neck and back and cried out at the exquisite sensations her tongue provoked. “Stop love—I’ll spill,” he warned.

  She lifted her mouth, but murmured against his tip with her lips, “I don’t mind”

  Black Ram Douglas had to take the aggressive role in sex. He was simply made that way. He put all his weight upon his hands and levered his body downward so that he covered her completely Her thighs opened of their own volition, welcoming his savage thrusts, while her lips parted beneath his hot mouth to welcome his tongue as it delved deeply.

  She could not wait for him, she lost control as he carried her over the edge, and her body pulsed to the rhythm of the wild Gypsy music. Ram ignored her cries. A serpent had coiled in his brain, its fangs pumping the poison of doubt. Who had taught her these things? The king? The Gypsy? Patrick Hamilton? He knew he had taken her virginity, but she could have been experienced in other ways. His imagination nearly sent him berserk.

  He took complete control of her body, arousing her again, this time to a frenzy. It was as if he wanted to brand her as his, to mark her forever as his woman, to make every other man pale by comparison. Whenever she thought of lovemaking for the rest of her life, this was the time she was going to remember. It went on forever. She yielded to his every demand as he endlessly took.

  In that moment she would have given him everything— her body, her mind, her soul, her life. Everything except her love. She shuddered with the bliss of it all, yet unbelievably his shudder was ten times more violent than hers. Finally he withdrew and rolled his weight from her, and as she gazed down in wonder at where their bodies had been joined, she saw her thighs were covered with drops of what looked like melted pearls gleaming in the fireshine.

  His voice was ragged as he demanded fiercely, “Who taught ye tae love a man with yer mouth?”

  “Ada,” she whispered.

  “Ada?” he roared.

  “I—I told her you tasted me, and she asked if I didn’t want to do the same to you. Tonight I did want to.”

  He laughed with pure relief and pulled her to him. “Lord God, how ye make me quiver. Ye are my torment and my delight.” He kissed her long and hard. “I love the way you smell. I love the way we smell.” It was the most intimate, private thing he’d ever said to her.

  Castle Douglas was so quiet and subdued after Ram and his borderers left that Tina felt almost bereft. It was as if the sun had disappeared. She was as restless as a tigress, and after two days she felt cooped up, almost smothered by the stone walls of the massive fortalice.

  Mr. Burque packed her a sumptuous picnic lunch, and she and Colin rode out upon the moors. He was more cognizant of the dangers than Valentina, since he’d seen the wounds the men had sustained, and so he insisted they have castle guards ride out with them. The men could hunt in the vicinity while Colin made his sketches, and that way Tina would not feel hemmed in and watched over. She wore a vivid jade-green riding dress and long, dangling jade earrings. Her magnificent hair fell to her waist, and Colin seemed amused that she had such definite ideas about how she wished to be painted. She shrugged a delicate shoulder, knowing better than any other how she looked her best. What was the point of false modesty?

  Colin asked her to hold the pose while he captured it. She had ridden Indigo, and the dark purple coat against her jade-green velvet made such a rich contrast that Colin made some sketches of her leaning her copper head against the Barbary’s satin neck.

  They sat down among the wildflowers to eat the food they had brought, and Colin wafted away the wasps that gathered. They had crusty bread and goose pâté spiced with herbs. There was a jar of pickled mushrooms and pine nuts. There was also smoked salmon with capers and savory pasties filled with minced lamb and scallions. To wash it all down, there was blackberry wine, and tucked in the corners of the basket were russet apples and damson plums.

  “Let me capture ye sitting among the clover and the Queen’s Lace…. Ram will be delighted.”

  “Colin,” she said bluntly, “you appear to harbor no animosity toward Ram.”

  “Why should I?” he asked.

  “Because of the unfairness of his inheriting the title of Lord Douglas when your brother Alex died.”

  He shrugged. “I was illegitimate, though I never knew it. Ramsay had known for years, but out of kindnes
s he protected me from the knowledge.” He sketched in silence for a few minutes, then said, “I was away from home when the tragedy happened, and before the week was out, I sustained these crippling injuries in a border skirmish. I came so close to death, I had more pressing problems than the succession to worry about.”

  Tina frowned. So Ram had known that if anything befell Alex, he, not Colin, would become Lord Douglas. “You hinted once that Ram was in love with Damaris,” she said lightly.

  “She was so lovely, we were all in love wi’ her.” He smiled wistfully.

  “So it was no more than a boy’s infatuation?”

  “I hope not,” Colin said quietly.

  Tina knew she would get no more out of him. What a closed-mouthed, tight-lipped clan these Douglases were.

  At the end of the day Tina expected to be shown the sketches, but Colin was adamant—the sketches were his Not all of them were good enough to display. He would select the best, and she was most welcome to see her portrait when he had painted it, and not before.

  She tried to tease him into a more generous mood, but try as she might, her feminine wiles were useless against the stubborn determination of Colin Douglas.

  Drummond Douglas, on orders from Ram, took his crew to Scotland’s east coast where the Caprice was anchored. They painted the merchant vessel gray and renamed it Revenge, exactly as Ram had done with the Valentina. They began systematic raids down England’s eastern coast, from Berwick to Tynemouth.

  Ram himself alternated between land raids and sea raids. Word soon flew to Henry Tudor’s Court that a scourge by the name of Lord Vengeance was playing merry hell with England’s ships, and rumors abounded that he had been seen on both coasts, which was a virtual impossibility. At the same time, wherever Lord Dacre had mounted a raid into Scotland, borderers had swept down into England taking not only revenge but everything of value they could lay their hands upon.

  Writs of protest were immediately sent from the young King of England to the King of Scotland, and a warrant for the arrest of “Lord Vengeance” was dispatched by a royal courier.

  James Stewart ignored the writs and warrants. He was delighted that one of his nobles had the reckless courage to hit back at the English, and hit back hard. He speculated upon who it could be but he did not really want to know, for then he would be honor-bound to deal with the renegade who was breaking Scotland’s solemn treaties with England. James had many wild clansmen to choose from. It could be a Hamilton under his admiral, the Earl of Arran, or it could be a hard-bitten borderer like Lord Home, Lord Douglas, or the Earl of Bothwell. It may even be his own cousin, Matthew Stewart, Earl of Lennox, or that uncivilized, fierce Highlander Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argyll.

  Whenever time or distance permitted, Hotspur rode home to Castle Douglas, usually arriving in the middle of the night. Valentina had become his lodestone, drawing him as irresistibly as a lunar tide. He would arrive depleted and depart again shortly, fully restored.

  Sometimes his mood would be so black, Tina had to drain all his savage violence. Yet sometimes, like tonight, his infinite tenderness almost melted her heart toward him. He had started his lovemaking very slowly, gently taking off her nightgown, spreading her hair across the pillows, then caressing every curve, every warm hollow of her body with reverent hands. Then he had spread her legs apart to examine every detail. He took each delicate layer of pink flesh, touched, stroked, separated, and kissed. His touch was as light as a butterfly’s wings. Hours later, she lay in his arms limp and surfeited as he traced a pattern of ecstasy upon her face with his lips. He half lifted her against him. “Honeypot … my honeypot!” He only ever used this term in the privacy of their bed. “Tina, when I make love tae ye, it feels so right. I’ve never felt this way before. Ye make me feel warm, quiet, still. Ye make me feel whole— complete. I think I am in love wi’ ye.”

  Her heart missed a beat, and she tried for a light note. “Where’s your hard evidence?” she demanded bawdily.

  He ignored her taunt. “I’ve decided tae marry ye.”

  The words hung in the darkness, and she was aghast. “Nay, we have an agreement of one year! We’ll decide then.”

  “Tae lowest hell wi’ the agreement. I’ve decided now,” he said firmly.

  “I’m not with child,” she pointed out

  “How do ye know? Ye might be,” he said firmly

  Blood of God, that could be true enough, the way he made love to her. Tina pulled out of his arms. “You arrogant swine, Douglas! You think you just have to snap your fingers, and I’ll do your bidding.”

  “Dammit, Firebrand, listen tae me! If I waited until ye were pregnant, ye’d think I was marrying ye because of my heir. I want tae marry ye because I love ye!”

  She put her hands over her ears to block out his voice and the sound of the raindrops pelting against the windows She decided to take the guard from her rapier and hissed, “I don’t want to wed you. Douglas men poison their wives!”

  “Only when they’re unfaithful,” he jested cruelly, but Tina was not joking—she was deadly serious “My answer is no, and that’s final,” she declared.

  He threw back the furs and quit the bed. He lit the candles and began to throw on his clothes. She could see and feel his anger He meant to leave, even though it was the middle of the night and he’d been home less than three hours.

  In the candle glow her hair was an aureole of flame. Her hands brought the fur up to her throat as if she could protect herself with it. He dragged her from the bed with one powerful hand. “I’m not asking, I’m telling ye.” He towered above her, then suddenly his magnificent, weatherbeaten face, so brutally handsome, laughed down at her. He bent her backward in his arms. “I am your destiny. When I come next, I’ll fetch the priest.”

  Chapter 25

  Oh what care I for my goose-feather bed,

  with the sheets turned down so bravely-o?

  Tonight I will sleep in a wide open field,

  Along with the raggle-taggle Gypsies-o.

  The chamber was suddenly very cold after he had left, as if he had taken all the warmth with him. Tina climbed back into bed and huddled beneath the fur. The wind and rain made her shiver, although he was the one riding out into it. It would take more than inclement weather to stop Black Ram Douglas. Curse him! Curse him!

  Was it possible that he loved her? Perhaps she could take her revenge sooner than she had thought. Nay, he hated her, and she him, yet somewhere at some point love and hate must meet, just as Heaven and Hell were but two sides of the same coin.

  Her mind dashed about like quicksilver going over her alternatives. She would leave. She would go home to her father. The thought of her mother and Beth made her search elsewhere. Donal and Meggie were at Castle Kennedy, not much more than thirty miles off, on the coast. Then she thought better of it. She had seen Black Ram Douglas in a temper and didn’t envy the man who stood in his way. Poor Donal had been no match for him before.

  Suddenly she stopped shivering. She knew exactly where she would go: the Haugh of Urr. She would do it with panache!

  As Ram rode deep into the borders with his men, he ignored their curses and grumbling at being routed out of bed hours before dawn. He never noticed the sheep huddled together for comfort against the drenching rain. He was too deep in his own thoughts. Bloody females! To a woman, kindness meant weakness, and they despise you for it and put a knife in your back. A clout round the ear wouldn’t be amiss. Nay, an inner voice rose up. ‘Tis you who are at fault. Do ye ever bring her a bauble, a jewel? Do ye ever pay her a compliment, or thank her for the shirts she embroiders? Do ye ever praise her for the meals she has her Mr. Burque prepare special? Do ye ever play a game of chess or dice with her, or talk with her? Do ye ever share yer fears or yer victories with her? Do ye ever tell her how much she means tae ye, except in the throes of passion?

  He treasured the memories of the afternoon they’d spent fishing. He wanted someone to share his life with, and he knew he had found he
r. He longed to share everything—the laughter, the tears, the wild moments, and the quiet ones. Blood of God, did she really fear him? Fear he’d poison her? It was untenable. The mere thought of aught happening to her knotted his gut.

  He’d turn back now and beg her to wed him, not issue his orders. He sighed. He knew he was far too blood-proud ever to beg for anything in this world. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. What splendid sons and beautiful daughters they’d make together! A fear rose up. He’d never had a child. Other men scattered their bastards to the wind, but no lass had ever come to him in tears because she was in trouble He mastered the fear. Valentina would bear him children—he knew it as well as he knew the sun would rise and set.

  Once they reached the sea, Ramsay was kept too busy for introspection. They took the horses aboard the Revenge, then slowly patrolled the coast of the counties of Kirkcudbright and Dumfries all the way up the Solway Firth to the point where Scotland joined England. They ate aboardship, then disembarked to patrol the borders of Roxburgh.

  They found the lairdship of Armstrong burned out and most of them fled north. There was little they could do, so they pressed on, hoping to catch the English raiders red-handed. At Rowanburn they got their wish—only some of the animals had been rustled, and a dozen men, drunk with bloodlust, were raping women and girls upon the ground beside the bodies of their dead fathers and husbands. Not one of them escaped the wrath of Douglas!

  The thing that infuriated Ram was the fact that they were soldiers in uniform. Once his men had dispatched the raiders, they wasted no time. Without hesitation Ram Douglas led the way across the border deep into Liddlesdale. When four men herding a large flock of sheep saw the Scots borderers in pursuit, they abandoned the animals and rode hell for leather over valley and dale The terrain was treacherous with rock and bog. English army horses were no match for the sturdy, sure-footed garrons.