by Paula Quinn
“The clouds are heavy, my love. ’Tis goin’ to rain long and hard.”
“I hope it never stops,” she vowed, smiling breathlessly into his face.
His mouth came down hard on hers, devouring her softness, tasting her with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. Pushing the door open with his boot, he carried her to the bed and fell, locked in her embrace, onto the soft mattress. Labored by their run, and by the passion that came upon them as relentlessly as the rain outside their window, they tore at each other’s clothes, feasting on the flesh they exposed. Naked and wild for each other, Davina traced the muscles in his chest with her fingertips, her lush, wet lips. He caught her nipple between his lips and she arched her back as a knot of sheer arousal erupted between her legs.
He lifted his face from her heaving breasts, his eyes both dark and gleaming together. “I have wanted ye since we left our bed this mornin’.”
She giggled, not knowing this wicked seductress who possessed her when she was alone with Rob, but liking her. “Is that why you would not play with me today?”
“This is how I want to play with ye, wife.” His voice was like the low rumble of thunder outside as he moved up her body and raked his mouth over the thrashing pulse at her throat.
Curling her legs around him, she writhed very deliberately beneath him, delighting in the effect she had on his body. She loved what she did to him, this man of steel and seriousness. She tore away his control, his restraint, until the passion that ran through his blood for her could no longer be contained.
“You are so strong and hard,” she drawled like a languid siren against his ear. The tormented groan she pulled from him as his open mouth found hers made her want to weep with joy. Let every lady in Camlochlin swoon over a charming smile. She had won the love of a man who shared his most intimate smiles for her alone. “I love you,” she whispered over and over, sliding her hands up his face while he kissed her.
He broke away from their kiss and looked down into her eyes as he impaled her deeply. She responded by arching her spine to meet his slow, moist thrust. He closed his eyes as ecstasy rocked him, a sinfully decadent smile pursing his lips and making her wetter. She loved his weight on her and pushed up against him. He withdrew and thrust hard, his mouth descending hungrily on her throat. His breath was hot on her skin as he ground his hips against her own, wedging himself as deep in her tight sheath as she could take him.
Spasms of ecstasy wracked her body and she slid her hands over the firm mounds of his buttocks to drive him deeper still.
“Ye are wicked.” He ran his lips over her smile. “And ye’re goin’ to bring this to a quicker end.”
“You mean your defeat,” she smiled into his mouth.
“Aye, my defeat.”
She opened to his plunging tongue as her climax tightened her body around his stiff, scalding erection. He withdrew, then sank deeper into her again, torturing, teasing, satisfying her with every slow, grinding thrust until she cried out, clinging to him.
Driving into her harder, he swallowed up the sounds of her pleasure with tight, thick groans of his own as his seed spilled hot and wet inside her.
Spent, he collapsed beside her and drew her into his embrace. She closed her eyes, spooned against his rigid angles, and thanked God for the millionth time for bringing Rob into her life.
“Rob?”
“Um?”
“You are turning me into a wanton wench.”
“Good.” His warm breath against her ear stirred her blood, proving her point to herself.
She smiled and nestled closer. “Do you think your parents like me?”
“Aye, love,” he whispered groggily, his smile visible in his voice.
“I’m glad,” she sighed, entwining her fingers in his. “I want them to like me.”
She thought they did too, despite the danger she might someday pose to their clan. Kate was kind to her and had done everything in her power to make Davina feel at home in the castle. Callum was careful not to discuss the king in her presence and she was thankful for it. Each day she spent at Camlochlin drove her thoughts further away from her father and what might happen if he found her. The king would not come for her, just as he never came for her when she was a child.
“Rob, who are the Fergussons?”
He shifted slightly behind her. “Why d’ye ask aboot them now?”
She stiffened, trying to come up with a reason that would not involve his brother. “I heard someone mention them today and I recalled the name but could not—”
“Davina, ye’ll no’ bring up that name around my kin, especially my mother.”
“But why? Who are they?”
“They killed my uncle. My mother’s brother. Remember, I told ye in the church at Courlochcraig.”
Oh, dear God, yes, she did remember now. What was Tristan thinking? She would have to find him and speak to him later.
“Who mentioned them?”
“What?” Davina squeezed her eyes shut and prayed forgiveness for the lie she was about to tell her husband. When she did not answer right away, he asked her again.
“Oh, I don’t recall,” she said and turned in his arms. “It’s still raining.”
He caught her meaning right away and smiled so seductively she nearly forgot why she was trying to distract him.
Pulling her on top of him, he swept her hair off her cheek. “Ye’re good at keepin’ secrets, my bonnie love.” His smile deepened, along with the blue of his eyes. “But I know what will make ye talk.”
He glided his fingertips down along her sides then tickled her until she doubled over him. He rolled over her and captured her laughter in his mouth before he made love to her again.
Davina sat on the deep, alcoved window early the next morning and watched Rob while he slept. His queue had come loose and black curls spilled around his face, softening his chiseled features. He snored softly with one arm tossed above his head and the other resting low on his bare hip. The blanket covered just enough of him to tempt her to climb atop him and wake the slumbering beast beneath.
She blushed at herself and smiled, turning toward the rainbow arching the sky outside. She wasn’t ashamed of her desire for her beloved, but thankful for it, knowing the God she trusted, the Father she loved wanted the best for His child, and so He sent her Rob. She still had much to teach him about enjoying recreation out of doors, but they had plenty of time for that.
“Has the rain stopped?”
“Yes.” She turned to Rob, leaving the window. “And there is a most magnificent rainbow spearing the heavens.” She climbed into bed with him and kissed his smiling mouth. “Let us ride beneath it on your horse. I miss riding with you.”
“I can take ye to Torrin this afternoon,” he said, sweeping his hands over her back.
“No. The rainbow.” She pushed off him and crossed the room looking for her kirtle and earasaid. “If you don’t come,” she said when he didn’t move from the bed, “I will ask Will or perhaps… Tristan.”
Bending for her shift, she smiled when he snapped back his blanket and swore something she would not repeat.
They returned to the castle soon after the morning meal was finished. A few dozen inhabitants still loitered at the tables in the Great Hall when Rob and Davina stepped into it. Finn was the first to greet them.
“Ye missed breaking fast and ’twas venison and bannocks!” He caught his error quickly and cast Davina a sheepish look beneath his long lashes. “And a verra tasty flower and herb salad with toasted oat cakes.”
“Oh dear.” Davina pouted and looked longingly toward the kitchen. “I am famished. I’ll go see if there are two servings left for me and Rob.”
Finn followed her like an eager puppy while Rob joined the others.
“Enjoy yer ride?” Will asked from the other side of the table with a mischievous arch of his brow.
“Aye,” Rob growled at him.
“Where’d ye go then?” Tristan took a sip from his cup and grinned
at his brother’s snarl.
“Nowhere. We just rode.”
“Just rode?” Angus intoned, then belched.
Brodie cast his burly cousin a disgusted look and then swung his gaze to Rob. “Nowhere, eh? I told ye lads he’s gone daft.”
“And as soft as a babe’s arse.” Angus rose like a mountain, pushing back his chair and shaking his head with pity as he crossed Rob’s path to leave the hall. “Yesterday ’twas Finn wi’ flowers in his hair, and today ye’re ridin’ under rainbows. What the hell is next, Robbie, chasin’ butterflies in the meadow?”
“She told ye,” Rob said, glaring at Will first and then at Tristan. He knew when he was defeated, but he didn’t appreciate being called soft as a babe’s arse.
“She told Finn before ye left,” Will informed him, doing his best to control the smirk creeping along his mouth. “Finn told us.”
“So?” Rob snatched the cup of mead his brother offered him out of his hand and swigged it down. “It made my wife happy, and in truth, I enjoyed it too. If any one of ye thinks that makes me soft I’ll remedy that assumption right now in the field.”
They all shook their heads and went back to drinking. Rob gave them all one last lethal look before he spotted Davina exiting the kitchen with Finn and their food.
Her cheeks were still flushed from the wind snapping against her face. Hell, he was glad he’d done as she asked. He didn’t care what the others thought of him. They hadn’t heard her breathless joy as she chased a bow of colors across Camlochlin’s vast green vale. They couldn’t know how good she felt in his arms, pressed to his chest, nestled in his lap while his horse thundered over his land. She enjoyed life and he wanted to enjoy it with her. So, she liked chasing piglets and splashing around in the loch. What the hell was wrong with taking a little pleasure in the day?
He smiled at her when she reached him, and then cast a murderous look over her shoulder when Tristan snickered.
“Cook was kind enough to let me choose the best portions of meat for you, and the bannocks are still warm, my love.” Davina happily handed him his trencher and Rob flung his brother a smug grin. He might have gone a wee bit soft, but he was eating well.
“Where’s my faither?” he asked, cutting his meat.
“Solar,” Will answered. “He retired with yer mother, Jamie and Maggie. I think they—”
A thunderous roar reverberated through the hall, silencing every conversation in mid-sentence and sobering some of the men. “Where the bluidy hell is m’ brew?”
Immediately, Brodie sprang to his feet, his eyes wide on the entrance, waiting for Angus to appear. They all heard his heavy footsteps pounding closer.
Davina watched with the rest of them, afraid to swallow lest the sound attract the giant Highlander and bring him to them.
“Brodie, ye bastard scoundrel son of a whore! What have ye done with it?”
Davina caught the hint of a furtive smile curling Rob’s lips when he looked across the table at Will. What had they done?
Angus stormed through the doorway, set his furious gaze on Brodie, and balled his beefy hands into fists. “Ye drank all m’ brew and now I’m goin’ to beat ye senseless.”
“I didna’ touch yer fokin’ brew, ye—”
He was silenced rather brutally by a cracking punch to the jaw. Everything happened so quickly after that Da—vina had no time to register it all until later. Brodie went sprawling into Will’s lap then bounced back up an instant before Angus’s even bigger son, Patrick, took a swing at him. Will wasn’t about to sit quietly by while two brutes beat up his father, and sent Patrick flying into the wall with two sharp, clean punches to the face. Rob pulled Davina to her feet, picked up their trenchers, and calmly led her to a table on the far side of the hall. She turned in time to see a chair sail across the table. It would have hit Finn if Tristan had not plucked him from his seat at the very last instant.
“Rob, do something!” she pleaded, beckoning Finn and Tristan to her table.
“And spoil their enjoyment?”
She turned, swallowed hard, and gave her husband an incredulous stare. “Enjoyment?”
“Aye,” he said, chewing his food as if nothing was going on around him. “They like to fight. ’Tis especially good fer Brodie. He’ll be more pleasant fer the next few days.”
“It is madness!”
“’Tis the MacGregor way,” Tristan corrected her, slipping into a chair to her right. “Ye’ll get accustomed to it soon enough.”
“But they could have killed Finn!” she argued, smoothing the smiling lad’s plaid over his shoulders before he took a seat.
“No’ with a chair, love,” Rob assured her, then scowled when he realized he’d forgotten his mead.
“Will is bleeding,” she pointed out regrettably and sank into her chair. “Oh, Rob!” She tugged on his plaid without taking her eyes off the melee. “Seamus MacDonnell just hit Will from behind. Look out!” She bolted back to her feet and screamed in Will’s direction and then turned on her husband. “Robert MacGregor, do something! He is your closest friend!”
Davina had no idea that Rob would have shamed Will if he moved to protect him against men who were too drunk to do any real harm. As it turned out though, Rob didn’t need to do a thing. A cry from the battlements stilled them all.
Chapter Thirty-four
Callum was the first to reach the castle doors, with Rob close behind him. It wasn’t every day that the MacGregors had visitors, and while most who came here were usually from neighboring clans, no one had forgotten Davina’s father… or Admiral Gilles.
“Finn,” Rob ordered as the lad caught up with him, “bring Davina to my mother!”
“She went to the chapel.”
Before Rob could reply, his father pulled on the doors, stepped outside, and shouted up to his patrolling guards. “Which way?”
“From the hills, m’ laird. Aboot thirty riders. Too far yet to see who they are.”
Rob felt his heart crash and splinter at his feet. Unless Gilles had recruited more men on his journey, it had to be the king.
“Banners?” he pushed past his father and called to the guards.
“Dinna’ see any.”
“Load the cannons!” Callum roared and spun around to the men watching him from the doors. “Alert everyone. Prepare fer the worst.”
Rob turned to Will and without a word spoken between them, his bloodied and bruised friend nodded and set off toward the chapel.
“Uncle,” he said to Jamie next. “Find Asher and bring him to us. If Admiral Gilles is among those men, the captain will know his face.”
“And if ’tis the king,” Brodie reminded Rob somberly, “Asher could identify yer wife.”
“And ’twill be the last thing he ever does,” Rob growled and caught the heavy claymore Angus tossed him.
“Laird,” a guard shouted from above. “A Highlander leads them. M’ thinks ’tis Colin!”
Rob felt as if someone had just shot him through the heart. Colin. Nae, it couldn’t be. And if it was, then whoever was with him had likely forced him to bring them here. But even as Rob told himself that his brother would never betray him to the king, he knew that Colin could not be controlled by royalty, sword, or pistol. If Colin did not want to be here, he would have died at the hands of their enemies rather than lead them to Camlochlin.
The lethal scowl on his father’s face as he searched the hills told Rob that Callum knew it too.
“If he brought the king’s men here—”
“We dinna’ know who travels with him yet, Robert, or if ’tis even him,” was all his father had to say on the matter.
They waited, armed and ready while the castle came alive with shouts behind them. Rob could hear the heavy cannon wheels grinding across the battlements above, where more of his kin waited with arrows cocked and ready to fly.
“’Tis Colin,” Rob’s father said and raised his hand to halt the archers.
A wave of panic washed over Rob such
as he had never felt before. Why was his brother here? What had he done? If he’d told the king that his daughter was here, would he point her out as well? Sick to his stomach, Rob looked toward the chapel’s outside entrance. They weren’t going to take her from him.
“It’s the king.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Asher exiting the castle with Jamie. “He travels without his banner, but his regal bearing is difficult to conceal.”
“He’s correct,” Callum told them, his sharp eyes fastened on the large troupe coming over the hills only a few hundred feet away now. The lead rider was in fact his son. The man beside him pushed back his hood to reveal a somewhat pale, yet familiar face as his eyes scanned the battlements, and then the men beneath them.
“Stand doun!” Callum roared to the guards and then waited while the riders grew closer. “Shyt,” he groaned and then turned to his son. “Remember, I beg ye, what we spoke of. Dinna’ tell him ye wed her, Robert.”
Asher was the first to fall to his knee when the king reached them. Callum followed, keeping his stormy gaze on his youngest son as he leaped from his saddle.
“Faither, I—”
But Callum raised his palm to quiet him as the rest of his men knelt behind him, following his example.
When Rob was the only one still standing, the king glanced at Colin. “Your brother, I presume?”
Colin nodded and met Rob’s murderous gaze. “I told only him, Rob. No one else knows.”
Rob’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. If Colin was not his brother, he would have run him through then and there and to hell with the king.
“Where is she?”
Rob cut his dark gaze to the king when he spoke. Rob hated him, hated him for leaving her, for sentencing her to a life without her family, for never bothering to see her.
A thread of hope emerged from the gloom. Elaine. Davina was Elaine.
“She isna’ here,” Rob said, giving Colin a warning look that said if he contradicted him, he would regret it. “It has all been a—”