by Paula Quinn
“And who has told you this? Your father?”
“Nae, someone who has come to mean a great deal to me. This person told me that ye’ve sacrificed much fer yer Catholic faith, even denouncing yer position as Lord High Admiral. D’ye regret it all then because ye lost yer daughter fer it? Would ye give up yer faith now, or ask others to do so?”
“No, never. My faith is all I have left.”
The boy smiled, looking more like his father than James first realized. He rose from his seat and crossed the room to the door. When he reached it, he paused and turned to look at James one more time.
“Abraham sacrificed his child fer his faith.”
James nodded and turned his somber gaze to the hearth fire. “But God let Isaac live.”
“Aye, He did,” the boy said and left the solar.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Davina stared at the ceiling, watching the waning light of the candle flames flicker within the shadows. She and Rob hadn’t left their chambers since the priest had married them three days ago, save to visit the garderobe. Their baths were prepared in-room by male servants and Alice brought them their meals—much to Davina’s mortification every time the woman knocked and stepped into the room. The handmaiden didn’t look at them, save for the one time when Davina caught her glancing appreciatively at Rob lying in bed with the blanket riding over his hips.
Thankfully, when Alice’s eyes skitted over him, it was one of the rare times in three days that Rob wasn’t as hard as a battering ram. Davina blushed at how many times they had made love during the day, and during the night. For the first pair of days, her body had been sore and he took her slowly, tenderly. But this morn, and lord, her boldness still shocked her, she’d woken up to his stiff erection jutting upward while he slept, and climbed on top of him.
He hadn’t minded her disturbing his slumber, but smiled at her, wilting her muscles altogether. His kisses were hot, his tongue demanding as he cupped her rump in his hands and set her atop his unyielding passion. Oh, but it felt good riding him, looking down at the sensual pleasure in his face, pleasure she gave him as she ground her hips down his length, then up again, panting with her own release until she felt him spurt his precious nectar into her over and over.
Later, he took her from behind, bent over the bed with far less tenderness than he’d used previously. They slept in each other’s arms after that, woke, ate, made love again, and then fell back to sleep.
How many hours ago had that been? Davina had lost track of time. She was hungry, and though she loved spending her days with Rob, she suddenly felt tired of the same four walls.
“Rob.” She poked him gently in his side to wake him. “I’m hungry. Rob?” This time she gave him a little shake.
“Alice will be here soon,” he said sleepily, without opening his eyes.
“She won’t. I think it’s the middle of the night. I’m just going to go to the kitchen…”
“Nae.” His heavy arm fell over her waist and he hauled her to him with barely any effort. “Stay here.”
She waited until he began to snore again, and then she carefully lifted his arm and slipped out of the bed. The floor was cold. She looked around for her slippers, but couldn’t find them in the fading light. Her belly growled, coercing her toward the door in nothing but Rob’s heavy tunic.
She peeked out. The halls were dark and silent. She waited a few moments, hoping that Alice would appear at the stairs carrying a tray of something scrumptious.
Was everyone asleep? She hoped so as she moved away from the door. She’d have to go through the Great Hall to get to the kitchen, but she’d often pilfered the larder at St. Christopher’s in the middle of the night and had much experience with stepping over sleeping bodies.
Her belly grumbled again, echoing down the empty halls. She padded down the stairs, peering left and right. Thankfully, there was enough light from the tall candle stands on the first floor to see which direction she was going.
She stepped out of the shadows and stopped in her tracks at the two men rounding the corridor, coming right toward her. They were laughing and hadn’t seen her yet. Davina turned to flee back up the stairs but came to an obedient halt when one of the men called her name.
It was Will. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to give him an explanation of what she was doing in the halls at this hour, barefooted. But when she looked at him, his silvery gaze drifted over her long, loose hair, down Rob’s tunic, to her bare calves. She heard his breath catch, and when he finally met her gaze, he wore a pained expression that made him appear more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. Somehow, it made her feel more self-conscious than when he raked his scandalous smiles over her.
The man beside him took a step forward then stopped at the dagger at his throat. “John,” Will said without taking his eyes off her, “go find a plaid fer Rob’s wife. Now.”
Sheathing his dagger, Will studied her in the candlelight while John took off toward the Great Hall without a look back. “Greetin’s, fair lass. I was beginnin’ to grow concerned fer ye.” His mouth hooked into one of his familiar slight half-smiles when her cheeks grew flushed. “I’m thankful to see ye lookin’ yer best. Where’s Rob that he should let ye wander around the castle alone at this hour?”
“He’s asleep,” Davina told him, awkwardly crossing her arms over her chest. “I was hungry and just on my way to visit the kitchen. I didn’t see any danger in it.”
“Lookin’ like that?” His eyes roved over her one last time before he dragged his gaze away, avoiding her altogether. “This might be yer home now, lass, and we, yer kin. But no’ every man is yer brother.”
John returned with a long, tattered plaid, handed it over to Will, and was promptly sent on his way.
“Put it on,” Will said, tossing her the garment. “Then go back to yer room and make yer husband fetch ye some food.”
“Aye, sound advice.”
They both turned to see Rob descending the stairs, clutching his plaid around his waist. “Ye should have awakened me,” he told Davina when he reached her.
“I tried,” she said, wrapping the plaid around her shoulders.
He offered her a repentant smile then glowered at Will when his cousin gave him a pitying look. “Off with ye now.” Rob kissed the top of her head. “I’ll fetch ye somethin’ to eat.”
“Some fruit and perhaps some bread and honey,” Davina suggested gratefully as Rob urged her along. “Good night, Will,” she called over her shoulder, smiling at Rob’s best friend when he tossed her a lecherous wink. He might be a wolf, but he was as safe as a puppy with her. “And thank you for the plaid.”
“Are ye done lookin’ at her, then?”
Will blinked the reverence from his eyes and turned his usual reckless grin back to Rob. “Aye, until tomorrow, or whenever the hell ye let her leave yer bed again.”
Rob gave him a foul look then smiled when Will clapped him on the shoulder. They were more than cousins. They’d been friends since birth and there was no one Rob trusted more than William MacGregor.
“Come, have drink wi’ me,” Will offered, leading him down the corridor. “Yer wife willna mind if ye’re a wee bit late. I discovered where m’ faither is hidin’ Angus’s brew.” In the dim light, his eyes gleamed with trouble. “There’s no’ much left, and if we finish it off, there’s bound to be some good fightin’ when Angus returns.”
Rob looked back toward the stairs and draped the bulk of his plaid over his shoulder, but the sudden chill that coursed through him remained. His father was due home within the fortnight.
“In here,” Will whispered, leading him into a small storage chamber adjacent to the buttery.
Rob waited while Will rummaged through dusty crates and shelves stocked with everything from used candles and rusty shearing blades to empty wooden buckets too old and cracked to be of any use.
“Ah, here we are.” Will turned with a fistful of candles in one hand and two cups in the other. “Make room on that table f
er me, would ye?”
Rob swept his forearm across the surface, clearing the table of debris. “Have ye been keepin’ an eye on Asher?” he asked while his friend lit the candles and blew dust from the cups.
“Aye.” Will bent to a small curtained alcove behind one of the crates, stuck his hand inside, and smiled. “He roams the castle by day wi’ his eyes fixed to the floor.” Straightening, he held up a large bottle, corked at the neck, and offered Rob a victorious grin. “I dinna’ think the captain will try to leave, but his door remains locked at night.”
“Good,” Rob said, still undecided if he’d done the right thing by letting Asher live. “Put him to work tomorrow. He needs to earn his keep if he is to stay here.”
“Aye, I’ll have him clean the stalls in the stable house. He should feel right at home with the rest of the shyt.”
“Will?”
“Aye?” his friend glanced up from tugging on the cork.
“How will I explain him to my faither?”
Will smiled and tossed the cork over his shoulder. “Right then, what’s a traitorous English soldier in yer castle compared to the king’s daughter in yer son’s bed?”
Rob groaned and ran his hand over his jaw while Will poured their drinks. “I’ve made an enemy of the man my faither traveled all the way to England to support.”
Taking pity on him, Will handed him his drink and patted his shoulder. “He’s yer faither. At least ye know he willna’ kill ye. Now.” He held up his cup. “Let us drink to yer happiness—as short-lived as it may be.”
He grinned at Rob’s hard look before they both downed their whisky.
“Och, hell!” Rob’s entire body quaked at the liquid fire scorching his innards. “How do they drink this shyt?”
Will clutched the edge of the table and squeezed his eyes shut. “Damned if I know.” He lifted the bottle and poured the remaining liquid onto the floor. “What?” he asked at Rob’s incredulous stare. “’Tis poison. ’Twill end up killin’ someone one o’ these days.”
“Aye,” Rob laughed. “Most likely yer faither when Angus finds his brew gone.”
“Nae,” Will said, replacing the empty bottle. “M’ faither can handle that cantankerous auld bastard.” He blew out the candles and followed Rob out of the room.
Rob pushed open his door and settled his gaze on Davina asleep in his bed. The king’s daughter. He risked much for her and he doubted his father would understand. But Rob didn’t care. He crossed the room silently and set the tray at the bottom of the mattress. How could he have taken her anywhere but here? In Camlochlin, England’s laws did not matter. Isn’t that what he believed? He climbed into bed beside her and watched her while she slept. How could he have kept himself from falling in love with her? ’Twas like asking a starving man to resist a banqueting table heavy with the most delectable dishes. He kissed her temple and smiled when she stirred. Her hair, like silver and gold spun together, fell over her creamy cheek. Tenderly, he swept it away. Her lips, like soft petals from the rarest rose, curled into a languorous smile. He would battle a king for her, defy his father and lay aside his birthright if he had to. He bent his head and tasted the glorious bouquet of her breath. She opened her eyes and Rob felt himself falling, helpless to stop, unwilling to save himself. He loved her. God, he loved her.
“I was dreaming of you,” she whispered, reaching for his face above hers. “You were holding our babe.”
“Aye?” He could barely speak, barely breathe looking at her, seeing what she had seen. “Did she look like ye?”
Her eyes opened wider. “How did you know it was a girl?”
“’Tis what I want. A daughter as bonnie and as brave as her mother.”
She coiled her arms around his neck and kissed the smile from his mouth. When her belly rumbled in response, they both laughed.
Withdrawing from her, Rob sat up, pulling her with him. “I brought yer food. Come here, lass, and let me feed it to ye.”
He stretched his long legs out beneath her as she straddled him, looping her legs around his waist. She watched him while he dipped a piece of oat bread into some honey and held it up to her mouth. She took a bite, closing her eyes and sighing with delight.
“’Tis how ye taste to me.” His voice was deep with desire, rough with the restraint it took not to push her back down and hear her sigh that way as he entered her. He fed her sliced apples next and clenched his jaw when she laved her tongue over his fingers. He’d pilfered some berries as well, and offered each from his own lips, kissing her as she accepted. His heart stalled, enraptured by her laughter when he spilled some honey down her chin. He licked it away, growing hard beneath her. Soon, he no longer cared about the food, nor did she as they tugged and tore at their garments, hungry for something else.
He lifted her over his heavy arousal, groaning as he bent his knees and plunged deep. She was moist, tight, and willing. So willing. She tossed her head back, covering his hands in the thick folds of her hair. He tunneled his fingers through her tresses and pulled gently, arching her back and taking her firm nipple into his mouth. He sucked, pulling soft, sweet moans from her parted lips as he guided her over his stiff erection.
She was heaven, hot, wet, and scintillatingly snug as she rose up over his engorged head, then back down to his base. He closed his hands around her full rump, gliding her up and down, gyrating her hips until his breath grew heavy and labored. He wanted to saturate her, fill her with his passion, but not yet. Not yet.
Drawing her close, he sucked the pulse at her throat, blending his tight moans with hers as her breasts rubbed his chest, her heart taking up the rhythm of his.
When she buried her face in his glistening neck, he clutched her to him, never wanting to let her go. Her sheath grew tighter, wetter around him, driving him wild. He thrust harder, faster, lifting her off his thighs until she tossed back her head and cried out his name. He watched the beauty of her rapture as she shuddered and convulsed in his arms, over his shaft, riding him, milking him of his seed in wave after torrential wave of fevered ecstasy.
Ah, he was hers, and the satisfied smile on her face as he fell back on the bed proved that she knew it.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Davina stood ankle-deep in the freezing water of Camas Fhionnairigh, her hands covering her mouth as she doubled over with laughter.
“Which one of ye lads did that?” Finn did his best to appear menacing—which would have been a difficult task to achieve, even without a mouthful of water—but the horde of children jumping up and down around him were too busy laughing to notice.
Finn mopped his dripping hair out of his eyes and narrowed them on little Hamish MacGregor.
“Run, Hamish!” Davina screamed as Finn bolted after him. “Come children, we must help our comrade!” Hiking up her skirts and kicking water at her heels, Davina led her exuberant army toward their enemy.
She clapped her hands and cheered when young Marybeth MacDonnell plucked a small rock from the bank and flung it at Finn’s back, giving him pause long enough for her older brother to catch up and swing his foot around Finn’s ankle.
With their enemy down, the mighty army wasted no time surrounding him and splashing him with water.
“Finn, what have I told ye aboot losin’ a fight?”
Davina looked up from Finn’s drenched face to find Will standing over him shaking his head with mock disappointment.
“Must ye leave all the victories to me?” He drew in a suffering sigh then skimmed his shimmering gaze over Davina and her cohorts.
“Madam, children, prepare to be sorely defeated.”
Davina knew Will loved her as he tackled her into the next swell then took off after poor Hamish. Finn also loved her, evidenced by the way he’d fastened himself to her side when she left Rob’s chambers a se’nnight ago and had barely left it since. She loved them too. She loved Maggie, and Jamie, and even Brodie—who grumbled at her the same way he did everyone else. She loved Camlochlin and the magic of
its laughing children and swirling misty mountaintops.
Wringing out her braid, she waded through the shallow surf, laughing and shivering with the cold when Finn sped past her on his way to either aiding Will, or sabotaging him. She set her eyes over the vast hills and smiled when she spotted the one she loved the most bringing a herd of woolly sheep back to the pasture with Jamie and Brodie circling the herd’s flanks. Rob worked hard every day, seeing to the good of his clan, his land, and his livestock. Jamie was often at his side, as was Will—that is, when something more interesting didn’t distract him.
But Will was not the firstborn son of the clan chief of Camlochlin. The duty of seeing his clan continually fed, comfortably sheltered, and kept warm on frigid Highland nights was Rob’s alone… or would be, and his dedication to it earned him Davina’s full faith and trust. She wished he would spend a few hours enjoying the fruits of his labor, rather than always sweating over them. It would take a bit of convincing, but Davina was patient. She didn’t even mind seeing so little of him during the day, for his stamina lasted long after he returned to her each night, honed and hard from his labor and as hungry for her as he had been on their first night together.
She almost waved, but Rob wouldn’t see her from where he was. Looking around, she felt a wave of contentment wash over her. She belonged here, surrounded by nothing but beauty and freedom. Everything before Camlochlin felt like a distant dream, and each day she forgot more of it.
“You look happy.”
She stopped and looked up at Edward, less concerned with Finn or Will’s proximity than he was.
“Please let me speak.” When she nodded, he continued. “I wanted a chance to tell you that I’ve hated myself for four years. I hated what I did to you and more for never having the courage to tell you.”
The truth of his words was in his eyes. Davina believed him. She understood now why he had spent almost every day with her afraid of the day after that. He did not deliver her when the enemy he knew was coming finally did, but fought an army and begged a stranger to save her. “I forgive you, Edward.”