He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her away. She hesitated and then her hand encircled his cock. She began to stroke him, and he unwillingly lost the last thread of self-restraint he had managed to hold on to. If this was the game the lass wanted to play, he would treat her like the MacKenzie wench she was. He would make this one encounter she would never forget.
He tossed her onto her back and lifted her legs to straddle him. Lowering his head, he gave her a brutal, punishing kiss, forcing her lips open with his thrusting tongue. He placed his hand behind her neck and wrung her hair in his fingers, tightening his grip. God, he would make her pay.
Releasing her hair, he skimmed her body over her nightrail and brazenly reached down and inserted his finger between her legs. Damn. The lass was so ready for him. She was so wet. Hot.
Roughly, he tugged her nightrail down past her shoulders until the fabric ripped beneath his hands. He lifted himself up, tearing at the material and exposing her breasts. He fondled one globe, its pink nipple marble hard.
His tongue caressed her sensitive nipples, which had swollen to their fullest, and his hand seared a path down her abdomen and onto her thigh. His tongue swirled its way down her ribs to her stomach while his hands roamed for pleasure points. Her tormented groan was a heady invitation. She lay panting, her chest heaving.
He stood on his knees and ripped her nightrail from her body as she lay naked beneath his gaze. He wanted to intimidate her. Make her ache like he was inside. He consciously watched her expression as he spread her legs open wide. She was fully exposed, and when he saw reality set in her eyes, he buried his face into her womanly heat.
He licked and sucked, torturing her with his every move.
She reached down to touch him, but he wouldn’t have it. He pushed her hands away. Her musky scent drove him wild. He sucked on her sensitive bud, and when she writhed beneath him, he inserted his tongue as she called out in bittersweet agony.
***
Dear God. She was so hot and dripped with sweat. The way that Alex touched her drove her wild. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with him this eve, but right now, she didn’t really care. The man’s touch was purely divine.
The pleasure was pure and explosive. And her release came upon her hard by her husband’s expert touch. When he pulled himself to his knees, she reached down and encircled his manhood, but he pushed her hand away. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and he merely stared at her.
Without warning, he flipped her onto her stomach and lifted her bottom in the air. She gasped as he entered her from behind. His hands held her hips in place with thrust after blessed thrust. At first, she was shocked, but then she quickly rose to meet him in a moment of uncontrolled passion.
He continued to take her and she was drawn to a height of passion she had never known before. She couldn’t believe the magnitude of her own desire. She moved her hips in response, and Alex called out as he sought his release. When he leaned over her and his fingers gently squeezed her nipple, she abandoned herself to a whirl of sensations.
Alex flopped down on the bed and Sybella pulled up the blankets, snuggling into his chest. He did not embrace her as he always had and his arm lay draped across his forehead, his eyes closed. When he didn’t speak, she lightly ran her fingers over his chest. Perhaps he was more troubled by Aunt Iseabail than he cared to admit. No matter, she was sure he would speak to her when he was ready.
Sybella swore she had just closed her eyes when she woke up to an empty bed. She stood, spotting her torn nightrail on the floor while memories flooded her from last eve. She couldn’t help but sigh. She shook her head and rubbed her brow, remembering her husband’s keen eyes and inscrutable expression. She wondered what had happened since his visit with Aunt Iseabail. At any rate, Alex was probably busy preparing for his travel to Lewis. She briefly wondered if her father would appear this morn and stop her husband from taking the MacLeod’s head.
She walked to her chamber, washed, and quickly dressed. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Rosalia standing there with Lachlann in her arms.
“Sybella, I hate to be a burden, but could ye please watch Lachlann for a bit? Ciaran and Alexander practice their swordplay in the bailey, and Aunt Iseabail wants to take a walk to visit my uncle’s grave. We left ye a tray in the great hall to break your fast.”
Not realizing she had overslept, Sybella extended her arms. “It would be my pleasure.” She took Lachlann and smiled. “We shall have a grand time.”
“Thank ye. I shouldnae be that long and he has already been fed.”
“Donna worry. We will get along just fine.”
Sybella carried Lachlann to the great hall and sat down to break her fast. His little hands pounded on the table and then he started to chew on his fists. She played with him in between bites and was amazed that the boy never failed to put a smile on her face.
She kissed him on the top of the head. “Ye are such a bonny lad.” He looked up at her with his azure eyes and smiled—with his fist still in his mouth.
When she finished her meal, she called his name and he looked up at her. “Why donna we watch the men practice their swordplay? Would ye like that?” She took his cooed response as a yes.
They walked out into the bailey and were greeted with the sounds of banging swords. Alex and Ciaran were surrounded by a group of men, and Sybella made her way over to a bench. She sat down with Lachlann, and when he spotted his father, his tiny arms flailed and his body shook up and down. It was almost as if the little man tried to greet his father.
Ciaran stopped and nodded to Lachlann. “Ye are still too young to pick up a sword, but let your father show ye how ’tis done.”
Alex deflected Ciaran’s blow and turned to face her. When their eyes met, Sybella smiled, but his expression darkened. He raised his broadsword over his head, striking Ciaran’s with a loud scrape.
Sybella became instantly wide awake and flew to her feet.
***
MacGregor grunted when Alex sliced his arm. “Watch it, MacDonell, lest ye forget this is swordplay.” The man briefly stopped to check his scratch, but Alex continued to strike at him again and again.
“I didnae forget. I am in need of a bit of sport.” When MacGregor came down hard on Alex’s sword, pain shot up Alex’s arm and he almost lost his grip.
MacGregor’s eyes flashed a gentle but firm warning. “I donna mind sparring with ye, but if ye continue to swing at me like ye’re in the heat of battle, I am going to fight back. And I ne’er lose.”
Alex deflected another blow. “I was counting on it.” He was trying to clear his mind the only way he knew how. It was only a matter of time before Sybella took the stone, and he needed to be prepared. He was determined that this would be the last battle with the MacKenzie. And Alex had no intention of losing.
MacGregor looked over Alex’s shoulder. He dropped his sword and shoved Alex into the wall. “Your wife took her leave with my son. What the hell is wrong with ye?” he asked between clenched teeth.
Alex nodded for his men to depart and MacGregor released his grip.
“I prepare to raise arms against the MacKenzie.”
MacGregor raised his brow. “Is there something ye want to tell me, or are ye just daft?”
Alex grimaced. “To be truthful, I donna even know where to begin.”
“Howbeit instead of trying to provoke me into killing ye, we have a wee bit of ale and ye can tell me all about it.”
Alex wiped the sweat from his brow. “Aye, let’s speak in my study.”
The men rested their swords against the wall and made their way to Alex’s study. MacGregor closed the door and sat down in the chair while Alex poured them each a tankard of ale. Alex took a healthy mouthful and swallowed. He placed the tankard on the desk and looked MacGregor in the eye.
“My wife is a traitor.”
MacGregor kept a blank expression upon his face. “And ye think this why?”
Once Alex opened his mouth, words flew out like a raging river. He told MacGregor the entire story and then some. After a while, he wasn’t even sure of all he’d said. When he finished, MacGregor finally spoke.
“Ye need to think this through and donna let your anger guide ye. Aye, the lass sent a missive, but ye donna know the meaning of her words. Ye think ye do.”
“Hell, MacGregor. What else could she possibly mean?”
Ciaran shook his head. “I donna know, but I have seen the way she looks at ye.”
Alex sat back, momentarily rebuffed. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“All I know is that the lass looks at ye the same way Rosalia looks at me. And I know my wife loves me.”
There was a trace of laughter in Alex’s voice. “Love? She doesnae love me. She betrayed my trust. She is a MacKenzie. She knows of the stone. She—”
“Hasnae taken it.”
“Yet.”
“I will give ye my advice, but ye will do as ye will. Donna speak with Sybella about this until ye know for certain. Mayhap she does know of the stone, but mayhap she also loves ye and isnae a traitor.”
Alex clenched his jaw.
“I know this isnae easy for ye to hear, but ye see the lass with your Aunt Iseabail and Lachlann. How could someone with so much compassion do such a thing? All I can say is this—give your wife a chance. If she takes the stone, ’tis another matter entirely.”
“I have John watching her every move.”
“And ye are laird. Ye do what is necessary to protect your people.” MacGregor poured himself another tankard of ale.
“I’ll be damned if I let my clan fall to the MacKenzie.”
“I would expect naught less.”
Alex sat back. “Do ye think me a fool for marrying her?”
“I think ye did what was necessary to better your clan. ’Tis what we all do.”
“But ye wed my cousin and she had naught.”
“Now that is where ye are wrong, MacDonell. Rosalia had everything I could possibly want.”
Nineteen
Sybella waited all day and nothing happened. No messenger. No Colin. No word of her father calling off this ridiculous quest to Lewis. She could no longer postpone the inevitable. She needed to remove the stone and place it back in its rightful place. If her clan wouldn’t stop this madness, she would.
Nightfall had arrived some time ago, and she was somewhat surprised that Alex had not come for her. She opened the adjoining door and saw a mound on the bed. When she heard a low rumble, she knew he slept.
The time was now or never.
She wore her dark cloak and kept to the shadows. The men more than likely had sought their beds since they wanted to take their leave before first light. And since it was a warm eve, she thought perhaps they slept out in the fresh air as they had done for the last several days. At least, that was her hope.
Lachlann had provided her with the perfect cover this afternoon. She had managed to sneak to the stable and show him the animals while conveniently finding a couple of tools, which she’d hid underneath her skirts until she could remove them.
With the main torches extinguished, Sybella was able to move stealthily to the great hall. For a moment, she stood still, listening for the sound of any movement. Because it was late in the eve, her chances of discovery were lessened. At least she silently prayed that was true.
There were only two torches lit in the great hall, and neither one was close enough to suit her purpose. She lifted a torch from the wall and walked across the floor. Her footsteps were the only sound heard next to her nervous beating heart. Lowering the light, she illuminated the MacDonell crest.
She spun her head around as shadows danced across the wall. Her nerves were on edge. Did she hear something, or was it her imagination? A cold knot formed in her stomach. There was no time to falter. Sweat dripped down her brow and she wiped it with her cloak. And once again she was drawn to the clan crest.
The black raven’s eyes mocked her. The stone was her future, perched on a rock with the words “Cragan an Fhithich.” The Rock of the Raven. And God help her, she needed to blind the raven in order for her clan to have sight. Relinquishing the stone was the only way.
Sybella placed the torch on the stone floor and knelt next to the crest. She fumbled under her cloak for the tools she had taken from the stable. Positioning the chisel next to the eye of the raven, she pounded the small hammer on top of it. When a loud bang shot through the hall, she froze.
Praise the saints. She’d never thought about the noise. Panic welled in her throat. At this rate, she would be here all eve and would surely be discovered. There was no time. She lowered the chisel again. After the third attempt, the stone was free. She quickly replaced the eye of the raven with the rock she had found at the loch.
To her dismay, that rock was too small. Of course, nothing could ever go the way she wanted. And worse yet, pieces of broken stone lay upon the ground. She couldn’t fret about that now. She positioned the eye, securing it in place and brushing the loose particles around the rock as best as she could. She stood, stepping on the eye of the raven and packing it down in place. That would have to do. She grabbed the torch and replaced it on the wall.
The time of reckoning could not be postponed forever. Her decision came down to two choices: deliver the seeing stone to her father to protect Alexander or simply take the rock out of the equation. After everything her father had done, Sybella realized she had already made up her mind. The stone would never be enough. Her father wouldn’t stop until Alex was dead.
She walked along the darkened wall of the garden. Fortunately, Aunt Iseabail had wandered out the garden gate so many times that Sybella knew where to find it. The sun would be rising in a few short hours and she needed to move. For a moment, she stood silently, watching and listening to the wall above. When she didn’t hear or see anything, she made her way through the gate.
Hastening her steps, she walked with long purposeful strides to the loch. The light of the moon made the path visible enough to guide her. When Sybella reached the edge of the trickling water, she stopped. She held the rock in her hand and traced the smooth surface with her finger. What secrets did this mere rock hold? If this was a means of predicting the future, the seeing stone would be a dangerous weapon for her father to possess. Her sire was ruthless, trying to kill Alexander and placing blame on the MacLeod for an attempt against her life.
She raised her eyes and studied the loch, confident in her decision and knowing that whatever she did next would change her life forever. There was no turning back. Before she had an opportunity to change her mind, she turned to the side and stretched back her arm the way Colin had shown her. With all of her strength and might, Sybella threw her clan’s sacred seeing stone into the cold depths of the loch.
“Ye throw as a lad, Lady MacDonell.”
Sybella whipped her head around and her jaw dropped.
The captain of Alex’s guard stepped from the shadows of the night.
“What?” she asked, her voice cracking.
He gestured to the loch. “I said ye throw as a lad. I donna know many lasses that can toss a rock the same as ye.”
“Aye…I practiced many times with my brother.”
John placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “And how will your brother feel about this?”
With an innocent tone, she asked, “About what?”
“There is nay need to be coy with me, m’lady. I know ye took the stone.”
Sybella began to shake as fearful images built in her mind. Would the man draw his sword and simply strike her down where she stood? She tried to keep her fragile control and her stomach was clenched tight. When she didn’t speak, he closed the distance between them.
�
��Come now, Lady MacDonell. I watched ye take the MacKenzies’ seeing stone from the great hall floor. I saw ye sneak out the garden gate, and I followed ye here to where ye tossed the stone into the loch.”
The silence lengthened between them, making her uncomfortable.
“Please, I beg ye, ’tisnae as ye think.”
He chuckled in response. “Then enlighten me.”
She bit her lip, and her eyes darted back and forth. This man was Alex’s friend and also the captain of his guard. What was she supposed to tell him? She must have hesitated too long for his tastes because he grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her toward the castle.
“Then mayhap I will simply take ye to my laird and ye can tell him what ye were doing out here so early in the morn. But I donna think he will be as understanding as me.”
She pulled her arm away from him. “Please! Please wait!”
He stopped and stood to his full height. “I am listening, but I will nae ask ye again. Do ye understand?”
Sybella shook her head. “Aye. I knew about the stone.”
“I gathered that much, lass,” said John dryly.
“My father made this alliance so I could steal back our stone.”
His eyes darkened dangerously, but he stood and listened. “Go on.”
“My father told me that our clan had a seer, but I honestly didnae believe him. I’ve ne’er heard of such a thing, but he insisted Alex’s father stole the stone from our clan.”
“And ye thought to betray your husband and steal back the stone to give to the MacKenzie.”
“Nay!” When her voice rose and he raised his brow, Sybella lowered her voice. “It wasnae like that.”
He waited for her to continue.
She wrung her hands in front of her. “Well, it was like that, but I didnae want to do it. Things changed. I ne’er searched for the stone until my father insisted I retrieve what was taken and return it to my clan.”
Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03] Page 20