Since he never doubted that Connor would arrive at his gates due to Symon’s actions, he had many things to see to now. All of the clan elders and counsellors would be arriving at his call. When given the true accounting of what Connor could bring against them, Rob felt certain they would understand their precarious position and want to end it quickly. The threat to the clan, their meagre lands and keep included, should be enough to warn them off this dangerous path.
Several tasks had called to him at the same time, so he saw to those and waited on word about Lilidh’s servant and guards. If they were alive and she kept unharmed, it could alleviate the MacLerie’s legendary temper before he massacred every Matheson there. As he walked from the chamber, the irony struck him.
He would be unworthy of being chieftain if he simply capitulated and released Lilidh to her father and husband.
Though for all the wrong reasons, her presence here gave him an opportunity to improve his family’s conditions. With her as a bargaining tool, he could make things better for the Mathesons. Of course, it would mean cementing her hatred of him for ever—though he doubted she felt little else for him even now—and it would be the last time he would see her or speak to her.
And though kidnapping an heiress was a time-honoured tradition here in the Highlands, taking a chief’s daughter who happened to be another man’s wife did not usually get the same results. With one, a man could end up wealthier with his clan well supported. With the other, wars, death, humiliation, mayhem and possibly beheading or castration followed. Now, since the first was not an issue, he needed to find a way to not allow the latter to happen.
By the time Rob made his way back up to his chambers that night, several things had fallen into place. Symon seemed cowed for the moment. Only two of Lilidh’s guards had died and, though he’d not told her yet, her old serving woman would recover. Beathas reported that the only injuries Lilidh had suffered were the obvious ones and those would heal.
However, the problems that Lilidh caused had not gone away and would increase with every passing hour that she remained in his keep. Until she was healed and he could get to the bottom of this mess, he must hold her and hold her close—for her protection as much as his own.
Walking down the corridor to his chambers, he nodded to the two guards there and sent them off with a wave of his hand. Rob had already set an order for guards to be in place there whenever he wasn’t in his room, so he knew they would be back at dawn. Lifting the latch, he stepped inside, ready, he thought, for anything.
The sight before him made the very floor beneath his feet shift.
Lilidh lay on his bed, her hair spread like a wild, dark storm on the pillows. Her face, washed of grime and dirt, showed the delicate curve of her chin and the pale pink of her lips revealed itself. The potential in her as a child and young girl had blossomed to full beauty as she’d reached womanhood. Beathas had washed her and given her a clean gown. Asleep in his bed, without the fear or pain or anger that had controlled her expression earlier, he could have believed she belonged there.
And from the way his heart thundered in his chest and his blood heated his veins, the sight of her there was something he wanted. Rob nodded to Beathas, who sat by the bed watching over her charge. She put down the garment she worked on and came to him, putting her finger to her mouth, warning him to silence.
‘She has just now quieted,’ Beathas whispered.
‘The potion did not keep her asleep, then?’ He glanced across the chamber to watch the slow, calm rise and fall of her chest under the sheet.
‘It worked while I had need of it,’ Beathas replied.
While the healer tended to the worst of her injuries.
Rob walked closer to the bed. ‘Any instructions?’
‘Ha,’ Beathas grunted out. ‘You plan to care for her?’ she asked from just behind him.
He’d not really planned this, not really thought beyond Beathas seeing to her injuries. The bold boast he’d made about taking her to his bed muddied things now. Surely no one would expect him to ravish her while unconscious from a head wound?
‘I can see to her.’ If she planned to argue, she changed her mind then.
‘A wee bit of this,’ she said, reaching over to the table and lifting a small glass bottle. ‘Add it to water or ale and it will help the pain in her head. No’ too much, though.’
‘Will she sleep now?’ Rob asked. He leaned down and smoothed the blanket over Lilidh.
‘Nay. Too much sleep when the head is injured is no’ a good thing, Rob. If she wakes, let her. If she sleeps, rouse her every few hours and make her speak to you. The potion is only for pain.’
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. ‘I will summon you if I have need of anything else.’
Rob did not turn to see if the older woman obeyed. Though he expected an argument, none came. Her shuffling feet scuffed over the wood floor as she left. When silence filled the chamber, he let his guard down for a brief moment, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep breath.
How had his life gone from tolerable to hell in a matter of a few days? How had his position as chief and laird, one he never expected to hold, passed from unquestioned to strongly challenged? Worse, how would he keep his promises to his clan and violate those he’d made years before about Lilidh? Her presence here, and in his bed, broke oaths sworn to her father.
Walking to the table, he poured a cup of ale and sat by the fire, watching her sleep. All of his hopes and fears, all of his aspirations and desires, had once centred on the woman now in his bed. He’d allowed himself to dream of having her as his wife and at his side. He’d believed he could be worthy of her and that her father would accept, even support the match. The truth of it, so far from the dream, had torn them apart years ago.
Was this the fates laughing at him? Did the Almighty have a keen sense of humour after all? Chuckling over the strangeness of it and trying to figure out a path through the quagmire before him, them, he only then noticed her eyes were open.
‘Lilidh,’ he said in a hoarse whisper, ‘how do you fare now?’ When he began to stand, her expression turned to fear, like a wild animal with no place to run. Hating the sight of it, he rested back on the wooden seat.
She began to push herself up as though to move as far from him as possible, but the wincing expression told him of her pain. Then she stopped and closed her eyes, gasping with each movement, no matter how slight.
‘Here …’ Rob jumped to his feet and strode over to her then. He reached over, grabbed the bottle left by Beathas and poured some of it in the cup of ale there. ‘Try sipping this. It will lessen the pain.’
With shaking hands she lifted the cup to her lips and took a small swallow of its contents, grimacing as the bitter liquid trickled into her mouth. Beathas’s concoctions, though effective, were known for being nearly undrinkable. Even ale or wine could not cover the less-than-savoury ingredients she used. Rob had not relinquished the cup to Lilidh’s control, so he lifted it once then twice and again before taking it from her. That should be enough.
‘So, is it time then?’ she asked softly, leaning her head back against the wooden headboard.
‘For someone who held on to her virtue so tightly for so long, you seem very ready to have your honour taken from you now. Has marriage done that to you?’
He regretted that last barb as it left his lips. Speaking of her marriage to another man was not a topic he wished to think about, let alone discuss with her as she lay in his bed, awaiting ravishment. Rob turned from her, forestalling any reply she might make, and began to put out the candles and bank the remaining flames in the hearth for the night. The inscrutable expression in her eyes when he at last turned back to face her confused him even more.
Did she really expect that he would force himself on her? He knew their parting had been a bad one—he’d shamed her before her family and left her to face their wrath—but never had he forced her. Seduced, cajoled, even begged, but never again
st her will or without her permission. Had Symon now convinced her that she would pay that price so thoroughly that she accepted it as unavoidable? Shaking his head, overwhelmed by the day’s events and confrontations, Rob walked to the last candle at the bedside table and nodded to her.
‘Lie down.’
Lilidh’s eyes glazed over a bit now as the concoction began its work. Soon, she would once again be in sleep’s grasp and he would have time to consider his actions and plans without her interference. He laughed roughly then, which caused her eyes to widen in fear once more. But she followed his order and slid back down under the covers.
After watching until her eyes drifted shut, he put out the last candle, loosened his belt and allowed his plaid to drop to the floor. His boots and shirt went next before he gathered up the length of plaid, climbed on to the bed and covered himself with it. Stretching out, he crossed his arms behind his head and listened to the pattern of her breaths. Soon, without a word more spoken between them, it grew even and deep, signalling her descent into sleep.
He must assert himself on the morrow and bring a calm, reasoned approach to this. He must divorce himself from acting on his feelings of anger and mistrust and lead the clan. He must let go of his past with Lilidh and handle her with detachment and logic. Closing his eyes, he repeated those decisions over and over to himself as he drifted to sleep.
And he might have succeeded had she not whispered a word that put all his thought of control and rationality aside. One whispered word and jealousy and possessiveness and all the long-ago hurt and knowledge of his unworthiness reared within him.
‘Iain,’ she whispered.
One name. With that one name spoken on a breathless sigh, she ruined all his hopes and once again reminded him of the fruitlessness of his dreams.
Chapter Five
Warmth surrounded her.
Lilidh snuggled deeper beneath the bedcovers, allowing the heat to soothe her sore body. She had found this part of her husband’s attentions quite pleasant, for she hated nothing more than waking in a cold chamber with cold feet. As she moved closer to his warm body, a masculine groan filled the space between them.
A groan that did not belong to Iain.
Dear God in Heaven! How could she have forgotten the events of the last days? Forcing her eyes to open even against the glare of what had to be the morning’s strong light, Lilidh looked directly into Rob’s gaze.
‘You are not Iain!’ she blurted out as she sought to escape Rob’s scandalous embrace. The bedcovers hampered her efforts to scoot back and away from him. The pain that slammed through her head forced her to cease, too, for it threatened to immobilise her with the sheer torture of it. Her stomach rolled from it.
Rob lifted the arm that had most recently crossed her breasts and leaned up on his side. Covered only with his plaid, one that had carelessly been tossed over him from the look of it, he watched her without saying a word. Unlike Iain who simply rolled out of their bed and left their chamber each morn without saying anything, Rob clearly had other plans.
‘No, not Iain,’ he whispered in a voice so deep it made her feel as though heated honey was running over and through her body.
He looked dishevelled from sleep. A lock of his hair kept falling into his eyes. Lilidh reached out to move it away, stopping herself only at the last moment. Damn him! How dare he order her kidnapped and brought here like this. Fool that she always was when it came to him, she wanted to help smooth out the tensions between him and her father. Rob blinked then, turning his gaze from hers as he lifted the plaid and slid to the edge of the bed.
His bed.
She swallowed. Try as she might, she could not look away as his strong, muscular back was exposed to her, all the way to his … Tanned from exposure to the sun, the muscles rippled as he bent down and reached for something on the floor. Her mouth went dry as he tugged a shirt over his head and stood as its length fell around him.
Though it covered his back, it did not reach much lower than his thighs, so his legs, just as well defined as his back, were open to her sight. He’d grown and filled out from the last time she spied on her brother and him as they swam naked in a lake near her home. The passing years, along with the fighting and training, had added bulk and strength to his body. When he faced her, boots and plaid in hand, their gazes met and only the slight lifting of one corner of his mouth gave her any indication of his reaction to her blatant perusal of him.
‘Do I look like Iain?’ he asked, picking up his boots.
He must never have met Iain or he would not ask the question. Two men could never have looked so differently as he and Iain—had. Iain was nearly two-score-and-ten and his hair had long gone grey. He had retained his warrior’s stature and strength even until his death. Then Lilidh remembered that the MacGregors were attempting to keep the news of his death from spreading too far while they settled the dispute over his heir and successor.
As happened whenever she thought of her now-dead husband, confusion and regret entered her heart and mind. He had seemed healthy and stout as long as she’d known him, so his sudden and unexpected death, and their short marriage, left more questions and fears in their passing than they answered.
‘No, not alike at all,’ she finally forced out so that he would not stare so intently at her. Turning away, she reached up to examine her head and the bandage she felt there. Truly, she just could not meet his gaze or think about Iain and her failure to please him at this moment. Not when everything was out of control. ‘Did you …?’
He frowned for a moment and then his gaze darkened. ‘Did I what?’
Lilidh could not speak the words. She did not know if he could have had his way with her while she’d been unconscious or not. That place between her legs felt no worse or different than it ever had, so she had not a clue whether he’d taken her or not. The fog caused by the strong medicine in the healer’s brew hid any memory of the last day and night. He waited for an answer, so she glanced down at the bed and then back at him.
A sudden and terrible thought occurred to her in that moment of waiting—what if her virgin’s blood marked his sheets and exposed her shame and the failure of her marriage? Would he use it to further his clan’s aim to bring dishonour and humiliation to her and her father? Questions would be raised about the validity of her marriage to the MacGregor chief and the treaties attached to it if anyone knew it had never been consummated.
And now there was no way to look without drawing his attention. So, Lilidh waited for him to speak. She swallowed against the fear of exposure and shame and waited for him to answer—too afraid to look and too afraid to look away.
‘Lilidh,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Look at me.’ She did not allow the soft tone to mislead her into thinking it was less than a direct command.
She took in a deep breath, tried to keep from trembling and did as he’d ordered. Instead of the mocking she thought to find there, Lilidh watched as desire filled those blue eyes. Desire so strong she felt it pulse through her as though he touched her everywhere at once. Her skin heated, her blood raced and her mouth went dry.
‘When I take you to my bed, in my bed, you will remember it. You will remember every caress, every kiss, when it happens.’
Lilidh felt every word he said and the memories of their time together and this promise of what would come between them shot through her body as if he had touched her. And in those words were every sensation she’d hope to feel and to experience with her husband, but had not. Hearing Rob say them, she mourned for the thousandth time their regrettable ending with its harsh words. Her skin tingled and her blood heated, waiting as desire burned a path through her.
Then, the flare of passion she’d seen there was over and gone. The fire she’d witnessed turned to cold, icy blue and he walked away without another word. Lilidh watched as he lifted the bar off the door and placed it on the floor and then reached for the latch.
‘Do not attempt to leave this room or speak to anyone save Beathas
and Dougal.’
‘I have questions,’ she said before he could leave. Rob glanced back then and shook his head at her.
‘And I have duties to see to,’ he replied as he opened the door.
He spoke quietly to whoever waited there and then he was gone. Though she knew others were just outside the door, no one entered. Lilidh tested her limbs, stretching them as best she could, and then pushed herself slowly to the edge of the bed. Sliding from its height, she grabbed hold of the bedpost and stood, letting her body and her head adjust for a few minutes.
When her legs steadied beneath her, she held her breath, pushed her hair back over her shoulders and took a cautious step. Then, letting go of her support, another and another until she reached the chair by the now-cold hearth. Grabbing for the back of that chair, she wobbled a bit and then used it to edge around until she could sit.
Taking in deep breaths against the pain in her head and the tightness of every part of her, she closed her eyes and tried to think of more pleasant things. It had always helped her in the past and she prayed it would now. Clenching the sides of the chair, she fought off the desire to cry out from the torment.
‘Here now, dearie …’
The words and approach of a woman broke into her thoughts and she gasped in surprise more than anything else. Beathas, the healer, had returned. Carrying linens under her ancient arm and a large chamberpot in her hands, the woman bobbed from side to side in a most worrying way. Without thought, Lilidh stood to help her. The pain took her breath away with its severity.
‘Poor wee lass,’ Beathas whispered as she put the supplies down and came to her side. Easing Lilidh back to the chair, she cooed and offered warm, comforting nonsensical words, at once becoming the caregiver. ‘Would you no’ be more comfortable in the bed for a wee bit?’
Lilidh closed her eyes, unable to speak and torn between the pain and the gentle care of this stranger. The woman did not push her to move. Instead, taking up a brush, she eased Lilidh’s hair back and began slow, long strokes away from the injured place. When she closed her eyes and blocked out her surroundings, she could have believed herself home, being tended by her mother. She may have even fallen to sleep for a moment, so comforting were the motions of the brush, followed by Beathas’s tender touch as she tamed Lilidh’s tangled hair while avoiding the bandaged, injured area.
At the Highlander's Mercy Page 4