Wicked Highland Heroes

by Tarah Scott

The remark was a question. Had Ross shared the details of Lady Taresa’s visit, Seward would have been more definitive. That could only mean Rhoslyn told him. So she, too, had noticed the resemblance between the two women. He cast a glance her way, but she gave away none of what she was thinking. She would choose now to hide her thoughts. The boy brought the wine and Talbot finished the first goblet in three long gulps.

  “Ye dinna’ seem overly pleased,” Seward said.

  “There is nothing to be pleased about,” Talbot said. “The resemblance is coincidental.”

  “I doubt that. And I doubt Lady Taresa will give up so easily, especially after ye asked for her help. Ye know you encouraged her by asking for her help. Why do it?”

  “Reports said Boyd had four hundred men on his way here.”

  “Between the men at Dragon’s Lair and the men here, you easily have that many warriors. I would not have thought ye would be afraid of battle,” Seward said.

  “Do you want your granddaughter and future grandchild besieged in Castle Glenbarr?” Talbot asked.

  “Nay. I do no’.”

  Talbot refilled his glass. “You know as well as I how easily the castle would fall if an enemy discovered the passageway that leads to the chapel.” He took another big swig of his wine.

  Seward nodded slowly. “Who told ye? Rhoslyn?”

  “I did no’,” she said.

  “As long as no one unlocks the door from inside, ye are safe enough,” Seward said.

  “I plan to bolt the door permanently,” Talbot said.

  “No one in this household would open the door to an enemy,” Rhoslyn said.

  “Do not underestimate my brother’s ability to find an ally.”

  She frowned, then hurt appeared in her eyes and Talbot realized his mistake.

  “I did not mean you, Rhoslyn.” He straightened in his chair and covered her hand with his. “What I meant is that Dayton will not give up. Do not be fooled into believing he has left Scotland. I would have heard if that were the case. This is why I must stop him.”

  She nodded, but the hurt remained and Talbot wondered if he should take her upstairs. God, how he wanted to make love to her. Since the attack on her grandfather, she’d kept her distance. He’d lain awake much of the night beside her. She might as well have slept in her own bed instead of inches from him.

  “Beware.” Seward’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Ye might one day regret no’ having a way out of Castle Glenbarr. Of course, you could always take up residence at Narlton Keep. That would please Lady Taresa. The great keep alone is half the size of Castle Glenbarr.”

  “I have no intention of leaving Castle Glenbarr,” Talbot said. “This is our home.” He looked right. “Is that not true, Lady Rhoslyn?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rhoslyn walked ahead of St. Claire into his chambers. She had insisted her grandfather take her bed. He’d acquiesced when she stated that she would sleep on a bench beside his bed if he slept anywhere but in her chambers. She hadn’t given thought to the fact that meant she had to continue sleeping in St. Claire’s bed. So here she was.

  St. Claire closed the door and continued to the bed as he lifted his chainmail over his head. Rhoslyn hurried to his side and grasped the armor as he lowered it. He paused and met her gaze, then let her take the mail. She set it on the bench near the window, then hurried back in time to take his gambeson from him. Rhoslyn set that on the bench with the chainmail, then poured two goblets of wine and gave him one.

  He took it, then sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and took a long draw on the wine. He set the goblet on the bench then reached for a boot. Rhoslyn set her goblet on the bench, then knelt and grasped his booted foot. He paused and angled his eyes to meet hers. Rhoslyn gave a tremulous smile and he released his boot and leaned back against the bed.

  Gently, Rhoslyn tugged the boot from his foot, then took the other one off. She rose and crossed to the table where a pitcher of water sat and brought it and some clean clothes to the bench. St. Claire leaned against the foot of the bed, eyes closed. Rhoslyn wetted a cloth and began washing his left foot. He started and she realized he’d dozed off. His eyes snapped onto her, then he relaxed and she continued.

  “You went to Lady Taresa because of me?” she said.

  “Aye.”

  “You do no’ wish to be the Earl of Baliman?” she asked.

  “I am not the Earl of Baliman.”

  “It seems ye are.”

  “I do not have to be anyone I do not wish to be,” he replied. “That is why I came here.”

  She paused in washing his feet and looked up at him.

  He stared into his wine goblet for a long moment, then his eyes shifted to her. “I told you, I tire of war.”

  “Yet, ye came to Scotland.” She went back to washing his feet.

  He grunted a laugh. “Aye, mayhap I should question the sanity in that decision.”

  “A man such as you does no’ have the luxury of giving up war.”

  He lifted a brow. “You think I cannot live in peace?”

  “You might wish to live in peace,” she said.

  A long silence drew out before he said, “Does this mean you and I will be at war?”

  She dried his feet, then picked up the basin and cloths and crossed to the table. “Our peoples are at war.”

  “Not so,” he said. “We have been at peace for some time.”

  Rhoslyn brought the pitcher of wine to him and refilled his goblet. “It canna’ last, as ye know,” she said.

  “So you have decided you and I must be at war.”

  She met his gaze. “What do ye want me to say?”

  He rose, towering over her, and leaned close. “I want you to say you do not hate me.”

  “Hate?” she whispered against a dry throat. “’Tis is a strong word.”

  “It is a strong emotion.”

  She could feel the heat radiating off his body.

  “I will find the man responsible for the attack on your grandfather. And I will kill Dayton.”

  His eyes dropped to her mouth and a tremor rippled through her stomach.

  “You might as well be sleeping in your bed,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You lay beside me in my bed, but you might as well be in your own chambers.”

  “Ye are my husband,” she said. “I canna’ refuse you.”

  “Will you force me into the role of rapist?”

  Her heart began to beat fast.

  “Tell me you never want me to touch you again and I will leave you be, Rhoslyn.”

  “I-I did no’ say that,” she stammered.

  “You did not have to. It is one or the other,” he said. “If you demand my brother’s head along with your grandfather’s attacker before truly returning to my bed, then so be it. But once the price is paid, you cannot renege.”

  “I never said you had to do any of those things,” she said. “I never demanded anything.”

  “Then you do not care if I let my brother live? You do not care if your grandfather’s attacker goes free?”

  “Of course I care.” She slammed her goblet and the pitcher down onto the bench. “I asked you for nothing.”

  He grasped her arm and pulled her so close she could feel his breath on her face. “Then nothing I do will change your mind?”

  “I do no’ blame ye for your brother’s actions,” she shot back.

  “But you do blame me for your grandfather—and you blame me for sending Lady Andreana away.”

  She hesitated. “Ye were right to send her away.” It galled her to admit it. “Had ye no’ sent her away Lord Lochland would have married her to De Quincy. I canna’ fault you for that.”

  “Nay?” he said. “Then what do you fault me for?”

  For coming here. For ripping me from the peace of the convent. For giving me a child whose father I may always question.

  But what would have been Andreana’s fate if she had remained at the convent? And what of
herself? Lord Lochland would have likely betrothed her to De Quincy and Andreana to someone else just as cruel. What would have been the life of a child born from such a union?

  Rhoslyn met his gaze squarely. “I blame ye for being a man.”

  His brows rose. “Then I am condemned, for I cannot change that. But I can remind you that there are some benefits to my being a man.” He stepped closer.

  She dropped her gaze to his chest. “My grandfather is in the next room.”

  “Not the next room.” With a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head upward.

  His gaze fixed on her mouth as his head lowered. His lips brushed hers and it seemed as though ages had passed since he’d touched her. Her heart pounded and desire streaked through her. She had the sudden urge to shove him onto the bed and ride him—hard. But he kissed her softly, as if reacquainting himself with her. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. The tightening of her nipples caused her sex to tighten and she couldn’t halt the moan that slipped from her lips.

  She didn’t wait for him to touch her, but cupped the bulge that pressed against his tunic. He swept her into his arms and strode around to the side of the bed. Rhoslyn threw back the curtain and he laid her on the mattress, then came down on top of her. His weight pressed her into the feather mattress. She wrapped her arms around his back and slid her hands down and over the curve of his muscled buttocks.

  “My lady.”

  His warm breath washed over her ear and the husky note in his voice sent a shiver through her.

  He nuzzled her ear. “You are impatient.”

  “A gentleman doesna’ make a lady wait.” She kneaded his buttocks.

  “Rhoslyn,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  She pulled her knees up and flattened her feet on the bed to brace herself, then arched her mons against his erection.

  “By God, Rhoslyn. If you do not stop I am liable to spend myself in my braies.”

  “I advise you no’ to do that, St. Claire.” She grazed her teeth along his neck. “I will make you suffer if ye do not please me.”

  A growl vibrated from his chest. She squeezed his buttocks again and bit down gently on his ear.

  “Rhoslyn.”

  She arched into him again and ground her sex against him, and again, again, and—St. Claire shoved up onto an elbow and yanked her dress to her waist. Before she realized his intent, he buried his face between her legs. Warm lips closed around her sex and pleasure shot through her.

  “Holy God,” Rhoslyn cried.

  He flicked his tongue against her engorged nub. She tried to shove away from him, but he seized her thighs, holding her in place.

  “This is-is indecent,” she got out between gulps of air.

  Need rose to the surface. Rhoslyn fisted the bedding. When he gently sucked she thought she would lose her mind. Rhoslyn started at the feel of his finger sliding into her channel. He went deep, then pulled out, plunging in and out until the pleasure of his mouth on her mingled with the stroke of his finger.

  Her climax came upon her with a fury that caught her off guard. Rhoslyn bowed off the bed. Spots raced across her vision. Another wave rolled over her and she collapsed back on the bed. Then St. Claire loomed over her, driving into her as her sex tightened and pleasure streaked through her once again.

  * * *

  A hard rap to the door brought Talbot fully awake.

  “What is it?” Rhoslyn demanded in a sleepy voice.

  He threw aside the thick bed curtain. Early morning sun seeped in the window.

  Another knock. “St Claire,” Ross called.

  Rhoslyn started to rise.

  “Stay in bed,” Talbot ordered. He scooped up his tunic from the floor and slipped it over his head, then went to the door and opened it.

  “Fifty of Lochland’s men wait outside the gates,” Ross said without preamble. “They expect to escort ye to England to bring back Lady Andreana.”

  “Men-at-arms are in the trees as I ordered?” he said.

  Ross nodded. “One hundred, as ye said.”

  Rhoslyn stepped around the bed. A dress haphazardly covered her body. “Tell Lord Lochland that the Earl of Baliman doesna’ take orders from him.”

  “Rhoslyn, I will not—”

  “How long will ye fight the truth, St. Claire?” she cut in. “What do you think will stop Lochland from making war on you, if no’ this?”

  “I can deal with Lochland,” he said.

  “Mayhap. But ye also have your brother and Sir Boyd to deal with. And dinna’ forget you promised me the head of my grandfather’s attacker. I expect you to keep that promise.” She didn’t wait for his answer, but said to Ross, “Off with ye, Ross. Deliver the message as I said.”

  “I will be down in a moment to speak with them,” Talbot said.

  Ross nodded, then started to turn, but stopped. “If ye ignore Lochland’s command he will challenge ye. It might even mean war. At least think about what Lady Rhoslyn said.”

  He left, and Talbot crossed to the bench near the window where his mail shirt lay.

  Rhoslyn tugged a sleeve to straighten it. “Why are ye so stubborn?”

  He paused in slipping the mail shirt over his head. “Is being an earl’s wife so important? Or is it that you want your son to have the title?”

  She snapped her head up and met his gaze. “I come from a proud line of Highlander’s. I do no’ need your title—neither does our child.”

  He pulled the mail shirt over his head. “Then why are you so insistent?”

  “Because it is so obviously true.”

  “The likeness between Lady Taresa and my sister—”

  “Is too coincidental to be coincidence,” she cut in.

  He sat on the bench and began pulling on a boot. “I remember my mother only vaguely. I was five when she died.”

  Talbot paused in putting on his boot. He was five when his father told him she had died. But if she died when he was twelve as Lady Taresa said... Why would his father lie? If Lady Peigi was Talbot’s mother, why not simply marry her after Dayton’s mother died? A chill coiled in his belly at the vision of Dayton’s tirade when he grew old enough to understand that his father’s wife—Dayton’s stepmother—was Talbot’s mother.

  His father couldn’t bring Talbot’s mother home.

  Neither could he marry Lady Kelsi Emory while keeping a long-time mistress Talbot realized with a flash of insight that he recognized as truth. Lady Kelsi tolerated her husband’s bastard children, but she wouldn’t tolerate her husband having—loving—another woman. Talbot’s father told him that his mother had died giving birth to Lilas. Did he tell his new wife the same lie? Talbot finished pulling on the boot. Would his father truly dishonor a high-born lady in such a manner? Would he take a woman’s children from her? And lie to all those he loves?

  “Write to your father.” Rhoslyn’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Mayhap he will admit the truth.”

  “I have written, but do not get your hopes up.” He grabbed the other boot, pulled it on, then stood. “He prizes honor above all.” The words came out of his mouth an automatic reaction.

  “Honor has a way of disappearing when a man wants a woman,” Rhoslyn said.

  Talbot’s chest tightened.

  “You, a bastard, can say your father is always honorable when it comes to women?” she said.

  Talbot imagined Rhoslyn as a maiden of fifteen and wondered what he would have done had he met her before she married Alec Harper. He would have married her. No, he wouldn’t have. Her grandfather wouldn’t have allowed Talbot within a hundred feet of her. Just as Talbot’s father wouldn’t have been allowed near Lady Peigi. Just as Talbot hadn’t allowed his men near Andreana.

  In truth, a king’s decree was all that had stopped Seward from killing Talbot when he married Rhoslyn.

  * * *

  When Rhoslyn woke two days later, her stomach roiled. She made a dash for the jakes, reaching it just in time to fall to
her knees and wretch into the basin. Warm fingers on her shoulder caused her to jump and she jerked her head up to see St. Claire kneeling beside her.

  “Go away,” she croaked.

  He was sure to avoid her bed after seeing her like this. Her first few months while pregnant with Dougal she had slept half the time in her own bed for fear of waking up in need of a jakes. Alec had been solicitous, but she’d known he was relieved not to witness her bent over the jakes for half a day.

  “Drink this.” St. Claire lifted a cup to her lips and tilted it up.

  Cool water met her lips and she took a large sip, then pushed the cup away. She swished the water around in her mouth, then spat it into the pot.

  “Take more,” he urged, and wrapped her fingers around the cup.

  Rhoslyn drank slowly, allowing the water to soothe her throat and belly. When she finished, he pulled her to her feet. He was dressed, she noted, and the morning sun was bright in the room.

  “I overslept,” she said. “Why did ye no’ wake me.”

  “Why wake you?” he replied. “If you are tired, you should rest.”

  “I am not ill,” she said, though the way her stomach tilted to one side, she wasn’t so certain.

  “Perhaps you should rest more,” he said.

  Rhoslyn shook her head. “This will pass.” Though with Dougal she had suffered months of nausea.

  She had thought she might escape the nausea with this pregnancy. She had been sick within the first month of carrying Dougal. This was her fourth month. If not for missing her flux, she would have thought she wasn’t with child, for she felt no ill effects.

  St. Clair stared at her, brows drawn.

  “This is what happens when a woman is pregnant,” she said. “Go about your business. I have work to do. Lady Saraid is returning today.”

  “I am surprised her father allowed her to return. He is not afraid one of my enemies will attack?”

  Rhoslyn snorted. “I wager he wants to say his daughter is under the protection of the Earl of Baliman. Ye will have many new friends, St. Claire.”

  “They will be disappointed.” His brow furrowed. “It might be best if Lady Saraid does not return to Castle Glenbarr for a while. I recall that she tried your patience.”