“Oh, but I believe you do.”
The thought of his anger descending on her frightened her. But deep inside, something else frightened her even more. Something she’d refused to think about from the moment it had occurred. Memories of this very room spun through her head. She’d been alone with him then, too. Pray it did not happen again, she pleaded silently, wishing she were anywhere but here. “You speak in riddles,” she said, surprised by the steadiness of her voice. She turned aside, needing to be away from him. “I have no time to play such silly games.”
Aleck’s feet hit the floor, catching her shoulders, he spun her around. Stunned, she gazed up at his face, then at his lips. A curious emotion quaked through her. Distantly she recognized that the feeling lay somewhere between wonderment and dread.
“’Tis no game I play, Chandra. It is you who are the riddle. After I promised to keep your needs in mind, it amazes me that you would again play me false. But no more, milady. I’ll not play the fool another time. Tell me, what punishment shall I give you?” Her head shook slightly. To Aleck, it appeared as though she were denying any wrongdoing. A sardonic smile touched his lips. “Perhaps I should give you to the one who constantly scratches his head as though a nest of vermin have taken up residence in his hair—MacGarron, isn’t it? Or maybe you’ll better enjoy that malcontent MacElroy—the one with the hairy legs and the wart by his nose. He’s very forthright. I was enlightened by much of what he had to say. Did you know he intends to keep you with child, much as though you were a brood mare? He purposes also to bed you within an hour of your nuptials. Said he didn’t want to delay his pleasure. Maybe I’ll stay just long enough to see if it is done.”
At the thought of MacElroy’s touch, Chandra felt nauseated. She could never tolerate the man—not now, not in the past. Certainly not in the future! Commanding her stomach to behave, she gathered her strength and glared up at her guardian. “James will not allow such a marriage. Not to MacElroy—not to any of them. Not one of them measures ...”
“Measures up? That’s why you invited them to Lochlaigh Castle, isn’t it? You knew they’d not pass the test.” Chandra tried to break free of his hold, but Aleck refused to release her. Propelled by fear, she aimed a kick at his shin. Cursing, he jerked her fully against him. The touch of her body sent a prurient energy sparking inside him; it flamed through him as she continued struggling. “By fighting me, you do naught but fuel my anger,” he grated, knowing she fueled his passion as well. Desperately he tried to quell his heated lust. “Be still or you’ll be caught in its tempest,” he ordered, wondering to which emotion he actually referred.
The strange energy had sparked inside Chandra also. Uncertain of its meaning or what might result, she quieted. “Release me … please.”
As her forlorn words flowed into his ears, his gaze remained affixed to her supple mouth. Her full lower lip teased him, taunted him. Closing his eyes, he drew what he thought was a steadying breath, then relaxed his grip and opened them again. So tempting, he thought, viewing her lips again. Reflexively his fingers crushed her shoulders. “I rue the day I met you, Morgan Morgan. I swear you are naught but a bedeviling little witch.”
Chandra felt herself being pulled closer to him. Her hands pressed against his firm, flat stomach, frantically trying to keep him away. The heat from his hard body radiated up her arms. Then his head descended slowly, pliant lips parted and moist. Not again, she thought, her heart hammering wildly. “No!” she cried, twisting against his hold. He seemed not to hear her. “James will punish you for this.”
“Punish me?” Aleck whispered just above her enticing mouth. “’Tis you who have mocked not only me, but our king. James will not begrudge me this. Because I am English, you despise my touch. Were I a Scot, would it still be the same? Whose kisses would you prefer, my sweet enchantress? MacElroy’s or mine?”
“Neither,” she blurted, knowing far and away it would be her guardian’s. But she’d die rather than admit it.
One hand moved from her shoulder to clasp her jaw. “You speak falsely, little one,” he accused, his hot, clean breath fanning her face, “just as you always do. Were you a child, I’d sprinkle bitter herbs on your tongue. But you are a woman, and there is another way to still your lies.” His thumb lightly caressed the curve of her lips. “Believe me, it is sweeter by far.”
“No!” Chandra cried again. The word was but an agonized groan. “Do not do this.”
“Far sweeter,” Aleck insisted, before his lips trapped hers. Chandra stood frozen, her mouth held in a rigid line, but Aleck was not deterred. Hot and moist, the tip of his tongue played along the softness of her lower lip, his thumb pressing lightly on her chin. “Open to me,” he rasped; then he drew back slightly to look into her eyes. Mutiny evinced itself in her gaze. “Damn your stubborn Highland pride.” He caught hold of her hair, and with a quick yank, her head fell back. He pulled harder, and her lips parted on a gasp; Aleck saw his chance. Insanity, he thought, just as his eager mouth swooped, covering hers fully.
The tempest was upon her, and as his experienced lips foraged hers—first hard and angry, then soft and teasing—Chandra felt herself buffeted by the force of his masculinity. Her whole body quaked under his mastery, expert that he was. His tongue broke the barrier of her lips, lightly thrusting and withdrawing, and she felt her head spin crazily. Fingers curling into the smooth leather covering his taut belly, she clung to him, fearing she might be swept away. But to where? she wondered distantly.
Frightened by the surge of emotions rioting through her, all of them new, she fought to regain her senses. His intimacy was not an act of tenderness or love, but was meant as punishment for her disobedience. By way of his kiss, he chastised her for tricking him again. She was hot inside and out. She burned as though she’d been set afire. He’d called her a bedeviling witch, and she pictured a stake, a young woman lashed to it, flames licking up around her. Suddenly Chandra was certain he had the power to destroy her. A small whimper escaped her throat, flowing into his mouth.
The tiny sound registered somewhere in Aleck’s brain. His lips sluiced across the soft curve of her cheek, stopping to play at her ear, as his hand slid the length of her spine. “You suffer no more than I,” he whispered, his hand finding the enticing roundness of her firm bottom. Fingers splayed, he urged her to him. “This is my agony, little one. And there’s only one way to ease the pain. Too bad you cannot have a lover before you wed. ’Twould be nice for you to enjoy what is shared between a man and a woman, at least once. I could show you what ecstasy really is, and you could give me the remedy I seek.”
Stunned by his words, then immediately enraged, Chandra sputtered up at him, “You—you—”
Aleck grinned. One finger fell across her lips, silencing her. “Although it will be wasted on MacElroy, you must go to your husband a virgin,” he said, then watched as her eyes widened. “Of course, there are other ways for us to gain our pleasures, and the man will be none the wiser.” His hand moved. Fingertips stroked the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing along the line of her jaw. “What say you, little one? Shall we seek the forbidden?”
Staring up at him, Chandra realized that he mocked her, baited her, while laughing at her silently. “English bastard,” she said through her teeth. “You speak with the serpent’s tongue. Just because I am woman does not mean I’m as naive as was Eve.”
Aleck arched an eyebrow. “First it is lies, now it is profanity,” he said. “I see you have yet to learn your lesson. Alas, another kiss it will be.”
“No!” Chandra shrieked. The word had barely left her mouth when the door crashed to the wall; Aleck’s attention snapped toward the sound and he tensed.
There in the opening stood Devin and Cedric, a dozen men at their backs. “Lowland bastard,” Cedric denounced, his eyes flinty and cold. “Do you mean to ruin her before she is wedded?”
Aleck knew the situation boded ill. His one hand held her face, the other pressed against the curve of her womanly h
ips, while his ward’s virginal body touched his fully. Insanity, he thought again, knowing that the real madness was about to begin. And he had brought it on himself. “She is still pure,” he said, hoping to allay Cedric’s temper. “Naught has happened here of great consequence. That is the truth.”
A vehement curse rolled from the man’s lips as the sound of steel ripping against steel pierced the air. His claymore drawn, Cedric growled, “Make ready to die, Sassenach.”
Grabbing Chandra’s arm, Aleck swung her around as he stepped free of the table, then shoved her behind him. “Get back,” he ordered as he freed his own sword from its sheathe, its point aiming at the tip of the claymore, ready to deflect its charge. “Keep out of the way.” Then to her uncle he said, “You fight needlessly, Highlander. Your niece is untouched.”
“Not from what I saw, Sassenach.”
“Stop it,” Chandra ordered, rushing forward, intending to step between the pair. At the same moment, Devin leapt between the already shifting swords, fearing for Chandra’s life. As though time barely moved, she watched in horror as her guardian’s blade impaled her cousin. “Devin!” she screamed, the life seeming to drain from her own body.
His name resounded through the small room, and Devin reached out to Chandra. “Cousin?” He staggered, a look of disbelief on his face. It quickly changed to one of sorrow, then one of resignation. “Don’t fret, Chandra. ’Tis easier this way,” he stated, his hand groping for hers.
Chandra barely caught it when his eyes rolled back. Devin fell away from the blade and crumpled to the floor. “Mother of God, no!” she cried, dropping to her knees beside him. Her shaking fingers smoothed the side of his face. So cherubic, she thought, noting how the lines of strain caused by his illness slowly faded away. In a twinkling, she remembered every moment they’d shared together, every tender smile he’d bestowed on her, every gentle touch of his hand, including his last. “Why, Devin? Why?” she questioned on a sob.
Aleck stood frozen. Intent on deflecting the oncoming blade, he’d reacted from instinct, to save his own life. But Chandra’s cousin had bounded into his sword’s path, and he could not stop the blade’s thrust. Seeing his ward kneeling a yard from his feet, eyeing the blood-soaked tunic of her cousin, Aleck looked to Cedric. His own death was imminent, Aleck knew. So were his men’s. In a trice, he grabbed hold of Chandra, jerking her up in front of him. The edge of his sword pressed just below her breasts as he held her against his body. “Back away,” he ordered, “or your chieftain will suffer a similar fate.” Aleck saw that Cedric stood fast, and the pressure of the blade increased. Cold steel cut through Chandra’s tunic. Aleck heard her gasp. “Back away,” he repeated, his voice glacial. “Let us pass.”
“He means to kill her,” Angus said from behind Cedric, having heard Aleck’s words. “Clear the hall. Let the Sassenach pass.” A hand clamped onto Cedric’s shoulder. “Do ye want yer niece dead?” Cedric did not answer. “If ye remain stubborn, know ye will not live to see her buried,” the man warned. “Step away and let them pass.”
Aleck watched as Chandra’s uncle backed out into the corridor. “Don’t cause me any trouble, little one,” he said near Chandra’s ear. “No harm will come to you if you do as I say. Now, walk ahead.”
Still in shock, Chandra had not taken her eyes from her cousin’s lifeless form. Her throat was paralyzed, as were her limbs. Other than the gasp that had fled her lips, she remained dazed. Not Devin! her mind screamed over and over. The arm clamped at her waist lifted her and urged her forward. Wide-eyed, she stared at her cousin. Then Aleck and she broke into the hall; she blinked. “Loose me,” she commanded, struggling against his hold, but her strength was outmatched. “Let me go. I’ll not leave him.”
“Don’t fight me, Chandra,” Aleck ordered, his sword still close beneath her breasts. “My men and I leave Lochlaigh Castle, and you shall be our protection, for you are our sole means of escape.” She refused to move, so Aleck hoisted her fully in one arm. “Get from the hall!” he shouted at the men who blocked his path. “Get down those steps or your mistress will die.”
The contingent fled to the stairs, all except Cedric. A dozen yards away, he slowly backed toward the steps, watching for a chance to skewer Aleck. “You’ll pay for your treachery, Sassenach,” he said, waving the claymore in front of him.
Undaunted, Aleck pushed onward, Chandra held tightly against him. “And you, Highlander, will suffer for your own. The clan Morgan will not forgive you should their leader sustain any harm. Continue to disobey me and soon the carrion eaters will be picking at your bones.”
Cedric’s foot met the steps; slowly he backed down them. “Steady on your feet, Sassenach,” he baited when Aleck came to the stairs. “One slip, and it is your bones that will be picked clean.”
Aleck pressed his back to the stones for support as he started to edge down the steps. Her uncle’s words must have registered somewhere in Chandra’s fogged mind, for she tried to twist free of his hold. His shoulder bit into the wall, attempting to keep them from falling. Her heels kicked his shins, and with a curse, Aleck pulled her harder against him. Lightning fast, the sword came up mere inches from her neck. “Don’t make me injure that lily white throat of yours,” he gritted between his teeth. “’Twould be a shame to mar it.”
Chandra stared at the shiny blade, Devin’s blood smearing it. Overwhelmed by the sight, she went limp. To Aleck, she was far easier to carry when she held herself rigid. Shifting her weight against his hip, he swung the tip of his sword toward Cedric. “Get down those steps—now.”
The dozen men who’d preceded Cedric down the steps backed around the corner, coming into full view of all who stood below in the hall; a shout went up. Aleck recognized the voice as Sir John’s. Swords rang from their scabbards; then came the sound of running feet, and as Aleck turned the corner himself, still threatening Cedric with the sword’s point, he saw the knight and his men clustered at the bottom of the stairs. Some faced him, others faced away, poised and ready for an attack from all sides.
Sir John waved his sword. “Move your Scottish hides off those steps,” he ordered to the dozen men who now met him head-on. They scrambled from the stairs. “Set your weapons on that table.” Using his sword, he pointed to the one he meant. Metal clanked loudly in the hall as the dozen claymores fell onto the wood. “You too, Highlander,” he said to Cedric, then smiled as the surly Cedric tromped down the last four steps and marched to the table, his claymore falling atop the others. “It seems we have a small problem,” the knight remarked to Aleck, who was again shifting the load in his arm.
“Aye,” Aleck said, his feet finally meeting the level, grass-strewn floor. Gratitude showed in his eyes, for the knight had assessed the situation and acted swiftly. “We are bound for England, Sir John. Herd the lot of them outside so that they can make ready our mounts.”
So, he planned to run, Chandra thought, listening to the exchange, her body held rigid once more. It was useless to fight, and she refused to lose another of her clan to him. James would take care of the bastard, and she prayed his head would roll. “You can release me now,” she said, her hands pushing against his arm.
“Not yet, little one. Not until we are free of the gates.”
Fearing their chieftain would be injured or killed, all Morgans who stood in the hall relinquished their weapons as ordered. Her suitors did likewise. Then they all paraded out the doors toward the stables. Under guard, the mounts were saddled, meager provisions for each man placed across the pommels in leather bags. When Aleck’s steed was brought out and led to his side, his grip tightened around Chandra’s waist. His sword still unsheathed, he stepped into the stirrup. The muscles in his leg knotted, then stretched as they bore both his and Chandra’s weight, lifting them into the saddle. Chandra’s bottom hit the leather, where she was held fast in front of him. Taking hold of the reins, he again pressed the edge of the blade to her middle. “For safety’s sake,” he muttered. Once all his men were astride the
ir mounts, he called out, “Open the gates.”
Slowly the portcullis in the lower bailey drew upward, as did the one in the upper bailey. Passing through the first gate, Aleck eyed the walls as he led his men from the heart of the castle. A bevy of Morgans stood watch, but no one moved. All, it appeared, were unarmed. The group had passed through the second gate, and the mounts were urged into a full gallop, heading south toward England.
Halfway down the hill, they heard a Highland war cry above them. At the eerie sound, Aleck drew his steed to a halt and looked back. The clan Morgan bled through the castle gates, giving chase. Like a rushing river, they streamed down the hill, some with weapons in hand. “Damn,” Aleck said, looking at the knight. “’Twas too easy, wasn’t it?”
“Aye,” Sir John said, a worried frown creasing his brow. “We’d best be moving.”
Chandra’s wild laughter pealed into the air, and Aleck wondered if she’d gone mad. Pulling her hard against him, he spurred the stallion into a full gallop. To the foot of the hill they rode, then up another, the clan Morgan after them. Arrows flew by the fleeing group, fortunately missing their marks, and Aleck thought the pursuing band would never grow tired. Eyes centered straight ahead on the rugged terrain, he refused to turn round to see if any of them ran naked.
The cries continued down the second hill and up the next. As Aleck and his troop crested its peak, his gaze leapt to the brae across the way; the tension drained from his body. One hundred of James’s finest soldiers rode his way. Crashing hooves cut into the mossy soil as the smaller group aimed itself toward the larger. Down, then up again, and the winded mounts finally broke past the friendly line.
Pulling the stallion to a quick halt, Aleck turned to look back the way they’d come. On the opposite hillside, the clan Morgan stood, their war cries erupting into the air. The sound sent a chill down his spine. They were safe, he reassured himself silently. The madness was over.
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