He rolled her over onto her stomach and sat beside her, his massive hands massaging the stiffness from her back and neck. Devon started to protest, but his ministrations felt so good that she relaxed under his touch. His hands went on and on until her body felt like soft putty beneath his fingers. Her eyes drifted closed.
Liam smiled when he heard her breath go steady in sleep. "My poor angel," he murmured, "so afraid to enjoy what I have to give you."
He decided to put her to bed in the master's chamber. To that end, he eased her out of her bulky gown, his eyes feasting on her ripe display. Devon was so exhausted she slept soundly through her disrobing.
The veil kept fluttering at him, tempting him to see that which was always just beyond his sight. He started to reach for it and then stopped. This action would betray her trust. The one thing Devon didn't need was a betrayal. He rose from the bed and went to her room getting one of her soft nightgowns.
It seemed odd to be covering up the body he wanted so badly. She stretched in her sleep presenting him with a glorious view of her pouting breasts. Groaning, Liam caressed her lightly with his hands. He felt a tightness begin in his loins—he couldn't molest her in her sleep.
Nevertheless, he couldn't keep himself from touching her, feeling the ripeness of her beneath his fingers, beneath his mouth. She whimpered and moved against him when his lips closed over her tender nipple. His hand moved lower, lightly stroking the crisp hair at the juncture of her thighs. She arched to him and he let his fingers burrow deeper to find the heart of her awareness. Devon moaned and he began a more purposeful stroke between her legs. She came alive beneath his barely controlled touch, rubbing against him.
Devon woke to the feel of her husband's intimate massage. Her body was on fire. Breathlessly she clamped her eyes shut allowing herself to enjoy the feelings he wrought. Under the guise of sleep, she could allow him this freedom—allow herself to respond—see how far she could let him go without the old fears….
Don't hold back she told herself. Let yourself go. She gasped when his fingers entered her, her body's responsive movements becoming more insistent as he continued his sweet torture.
Liam was on fire to possess her, but this was all wrong! What was he doing? He wanted her awake and willing, not molested in her sleep by a man who couldn't control his raging desire. Guilt permeated his being and yet he couldn't draw away from her while she gave full response to his every move.
Was she awake beneath the veil? Her body bent, supple and willing, under his scorching caress. Her hips rose and fell rhythmically beneath his stroke—her nipples hardened when he suckled. He was in heaven—or was it hell? Perspiration covered him as he struggled for control.
Devon writhed in ecstasy, her body burning for the first time with the fires of desire. Her eyelids fluttered open to the realization of what she was allowing Liam to do to her. His fingers were deep within her, stroking her insides in such a way that her whole body quivered.
"Liam," she breathed. "Liam, stop," she moaned with little conviction.
He raised his head to stare at the faceless void of her veil. "Devon, please," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "It won’t hurt, I promise."
"I can’t…." she murmured breathlessly. “Not yet…." A wave of pure pleasure shot over her as he magically manipulated the magic nub at the juncture of her thighs. She lost her desire to push him away and arched willingly beneath his intimate touch. "Liam—“ Her voice was cut off by the surge of urgency that made her body explode in its first quivering orgasm.
Fired by her shattering response, Liam sought to mount her, but she rolled away from him quaking. She practically climbed the bedpost to escape his reach.
"You promised it wouldn’t happen until I was ready!" she shrieked, finally finding her voice. Through the veil, her terrified eyes saw his engorged member and she went catatonic remembering the cruel way her first husband had used her.
Liam was shocked back to control by her terrified reaction. With a low growl, he snatched her out of the corner and covered her with her nightdress. Picking her up, he carried her to her own small bed and covered her with the blanket.
He sat on the edge of the bed fumbling with the covers. "Forgive me," he murmured. "I never meant to frighten you, only love you." He raised his hand to stroke her hair and she rolled away from his touch crying. "Oh Devon, please forgive me," he pleaded.
Devon didn't understand why he hadn't punished her for calling a halt to his amusements. In fact, she didn't understand why he listened to her when she had told him to stop. But most of all she could not comprehend what he had done to her body to make it feel so wonderfully alive and bring forth the shattering burst of raw energy that left her spent and quivering.
She needed to be alone. His very presence disturbed her. Her heart raced from wanting him to continue and at the same time wanting him to disappear forever that she might never have this dichotomy of feeling again.
"Liam, please leave me alone," she begged through her tears. "I need to be alone."
He leaned down and caressed her through the veil. "I'll go if you promise me we'll speak about this later," he said firmly.
"I promise," she whispered. She would have said anything to get him to leave the room. He kissed her again and went out, shutting her door behind him.
Liam leaned back against the door, his passions cooled by the fear he had evoked in her. God, she was going to drive him mad and he didn't know how to help her or how much longer he could wait to possess her.
Her erotic climax under his touch had sown a deep need in his loins, one only she could satisfy. The consummation of their vows could not be soon enough to suit him. He had to make her willing.
Trying to dismiss his thoughts, he dressed and went in search of Elspeth. Perhaps if he immersed himself in finding the murderer, he could regain his sanity. If Elspeth were up to it, he would talk to her.
Liam found her straightening up in her mother's cottage. She turned with a start when his tall form loomed in the doorway. "I thought I gave orders nothing was to be disturbed," he reminded her.
"Aye Milord, but I canna tell if anythin' is missin' unless I clean up some," she pointed out. "Is Laird Malcolm all right?"
"Aye, Lady Asilinn has affected a cure."
Her eyes mirrored her disbelief. "How wonderful," she said softly.
"I need to ask you a few questions. Are you up to it?" She nodded her ascent. "Have a seat."
"Garyth said you had it all figured out."
"I told Garyth I had a theory. I must explore all possibilities."
"I see," she said, sitting down at the table. "What do you wanna know?"
"Who would have reason to kill your mother? Was there anyone angry with her over some of her work, a failed cure perhaps?"
"Nay Milord, she was very good at cures. Do you think 'twas Bryce Forbes who did this thing?"
"Please answer the question, Elspeth," Liam directed.
"Bryce had reason to kill her, other than the possibility of him buyin' poison from her."
"What other reason?"
"When you became laird, my mother said Bryce couldna take me to 'is bed anymore. She said you wouldna allow it." Her luminous dark eyes stared at him. "She said you would protect me from 'im." Elspeth dropped her gaze and began sniffling and rocking back and forth in her chair.
Liam looked at the girl with pity. Why hadn't the old woman stopped Bryce from using her daughter by appealing to Malcolm? Surely, Malcolm would have prevented it.
"Is it true?" Elspeth asked. "Would you 'ave protected me?"
"How old are you, Elspeth?"
"Ten and six."
"And how old were you when Bryce first took you to his bed?"
Elspeth stared at her hands. "'Twas Frazer who took me first," she murmured. "'Twas soon after he was married to Lady Devon. He said she didna please 'im and… he found me appealin'. I was ten and two then."
Liam's ebony brow arched, but he hid his shock well. "So
it was Frazer who first abused you?"
"Aye Milord, he took me in this very cottage," she said matter-of-factly.
"Where was your mother?"
"She was out tendin' a patient."
"Did you tell her?"
Elspeth looked away from his intense gaze. "She knew," she whispered.
"Did she go to Laird Malcolm? Where the hell was Malcolm while this was going on?"
"The old laird was so upset over 'is daughter's marriage he traveled for the better part o' two years."
"And during this time Frazer was in charge?"
"Aye, when Laird Malcolm finally came back and saw how unhappy Lady Devon was, he was real upset, but Lady Devon wouldna confide in him. Then Frazer died in the fire and Laird Malcolm went off again to try to find some way to help her out of Bryce's petition."
"God's blood," Liam muttered.
"If there be nothin' else, I must go to talk to the friar about the funeral," she said, rising.
"I'll speak with you again later."
"Aye Milord," she replied, giving him a curtsey as she went towards the door.
"Elspeth."
"Aye, Milord."
"Did you find anything missing?"
"Not that I can tell.
"Go on then," he directed. She hurried out the door.
No wonder Devon was so terrified. If her husband had raped a twelve-year-old girl, what had he done to his lovely wife? Sarah's image rose to remind him of her fate and Liam's jaw grew taut, his teeth clenching. Whatever had happened at Dunsmore Heath over the past four years was a tragedy and his wife was at the center of it.
Chapter Nine
The door to her small bedroom creaked open and Devon sat bolt upright in bed grabbing for the sheet to cover her face. Her heart raced as she peeked around to see who had entered her room. Instead of the tall, muscular form she expected, she saw Moira's cheerful face.
"Why are you hidin' behind the sheeting?" her faithful servant asked. "Dinna tell me ye still keep yer lovely face from Laird Liam."
Devon dropped the covering and toyed with it dejectedly. "You expect me to let him see this?" she asked, pointing to the reddened scar that traced up the back of her neck. "And my face ...." she broke off. With a deep sigh, she shoved the sheet aside and stepped from the bed. "'Tis the face of a murderess."
"Is that who you hide from, yerself?"
Devon whipped around. "I'll not discuss this for the thousandth time."
"Awfully testy this mornin'," Moira observed. She grabbed Devon's nightgown. "Let me help you off with this." The old woman cackled gleefully when the gown pulled free.
Devon gawked at her. "Have you gone mad?"
"He's teachin' you about life's pleasures, isn't he?" Moira's finger reached over and pointed to the faint bruise on her left breast. Devon looked down and gasped. "Laird Liam has left his mark on ye, and I'll wager it is one of passion, not pain."
Devon's fair skin colored with a deep blush. She turned from Moira's prying eyes. How could he have bruised her flesh when all she felt was overwhelming pleasure? Her lips quivered. What was Liam doing to her? The memory of the early morning encounter washed over her so vividly she shuddered.
"Devon," Moira said gently. "He didna hurt you, did he? I didna mean to upset ye." She moved over and flung Devon's robe around her shoulders.
"I need a bath," Devon whispered. "I need to wash away the trail of his hands." She stopped and gazed into Moira's wrinkled face. "He touched me.... He made me come alive beneath his caress, but... I couldna let him... I couldna!"
"He hasna consummated yer vows?" Moira asked, her face drawn in concern.
"He wants me to be willing. Every time I draw back in fear, he lets me go. He doesna force me like Frazer did." She hung her head. "I should not have told you. Liam told me not to tell anyone. He said if Bryce found out he might try to make trouble."
Moira put some water on for Devon's bath and gently pushed her into a chair by the fire. "Liam is a good man. He is tryin' to be patient with you, but you must go to 'im. He's right about Bryce. Besides, you owe it to yer husband to be his wife in every way. Is this the first time Laird Liam has touched you like this?"
"No, he's always kissing me and caressing me, but this morning he did more than he ever has. I was asleep and when I awoke, my body was on fire. His mouth—his hands.... I lost control of my own body. It felt like my insides exploded."
"I'll wager 'twas a good feelin'," Moira said, stifling a grin.
Devon's eyes flashed at the servant's expression. "You dinna understand. That's why 'twas so frightening! I lost control. He was in control of my body... just like Frazer."
"Not like Frazer," Moira corrected. "Frazer thrived on the pain he wrought. Laird Liam isna that kind of man."
"How do you know?" Devon retorted. "To all the world Frazer Forbes seemed the perfect husband, but behind closed doors he was a monster. For all I know Frazer is typical. Mayhaps all men enjoy his cruel pastimes."
"Why won't you believe me?"
"'Tis all I know of men! And I tell you this, if Liam MacLean does to me what Frazer Forbes did, I'll kill him too," Devon cried.
Moira crossed herself. "Dear God, help us," she murmured, busying herself fixing the bath. When the tub was finally prepared, she tried to help Devon into it, but Devon jerked away.
"Leave me." Moira sought to object, but one look in Devon's eyes told her it was useless.
"I love you like you were my own and I wouldna give ye false advice. Go to yer husband and consummate yer marriage vows before that bastard of a brother-in-law finds out the truth. I wouldna see you in Bryce's hands when you could be in Liam's." Moira awaited Devon's reply, but Devon said nothing. She shot the faithful maid a look of vexation and sank down in the tub. Shaking her head, Moira left the room.
Alone with her vivid memories of the early morning meeting with her husband, Devon flushed. Thinking of Liam made her body tingle in every place his sweet ministry had touched. She muttered a curse on the man for being able to make her own flesh betray her.
The warm water washed away the scent of Liam from her body, but not the fiery longing he had planted deep within her. She didn't know if she could look at him again without reliving the fire of his intimate caress.
Devon had to get him out of her mind—his throaty voice—his scorching touch—his magic kisses. She needed a ride across the moors with the wind whipping her hair and fine fresh smell of the salt air from the firth. Liam would be furious if he found her riding alone. Was that what she wanted—for Liam to lose control and prove to her that he was no different from Frazer? If he did, maybe her heart would stop wanting him near.
It was midday when she made her way to the stable. Archie was grooming the horses when she walked in.
"Good morning, Lady Devon," he chirped cheerfully.
"How did you know it was me?"
"The scent of lavender gave you away." Devon smiled beneath her veil.
"How many horses should I saddle up?" Archie asked.
"Just one," she said. "I'm only going for a short ride."
The gray-haired servant wrinkled his nose and turned in her general direction. "Does Laird Liam know ye be goin' out alone?"
How did Archie always manage to see through her without the use of his eyes?
"Are you refusing my request?"
"I wouldna do that, Milady. I asked a simple question. Does yer husband know what yer about?"
"Of course," Devon retorted. "And I should point out if it was not for the wedding dowry, Liam would have no horses or stables."
Archie broke into a wide grin. "That isna so, Milady, Laird Liam has horses and stables other than these, but I didna mean to rile ye. 'Tis dangerous to ride alone, you bein' a woman and all," he finished.
"I wilna be long," Devon stated flatly.
She watched the old groom count his paces down the line of stalls and marveled at his accuracy when he stopped beside her horse. He brought the horse out and got it ready
for her, his silence making her feel guilty. Poor blind Archie knew she was lying. When he had finished, he gave her a boost into saddle and handed her the reins.
"Have a care now, Lady Devon," he warned. Devon cursed under her breath as she rode out. She could see him leaning against the barn door, his gray hair blowing in the wind.
Devon fled the castle at a full gallop. The crisp air was like a tonic to her soul and soon she had ridden much farther across the moors than she intended. She toyed with the idea of shedding the veil of black netting covering her face and keeping her hair wound tightly to her head. She longed to feel the wind rush over her skin and tease the tendrils of her hair, but restraint ruled her actions.
In spite of the headpiece, she enjoyed the beauty of her surroundings. Large expanses of open terrain punctuated with rock outcroppings lay before her. An occasional cluster of Oak or Mountain Ash dotted the landscape. The wild, desolate moors stretched before her, making her feel insignificant with their endless sprawl.
She was glad she had snatched this opportunity to have the freedom she had missed so much. After all, soon it would be winter and the mist and snow would shroud her beloved Scotland in a dreary grayness.
The perfection of her ride was disturbed when she saw three riders approaching from the West. There was a familiarity about two of the figures she could not place until they grew closer. Her heart leapt to her throat. Dear God! It was Bryce and Nigel, and some other man, taller and with a regal stature. It was too late to turn tail and run. They had spotted her and Bryce called out a greeting.
"Lady Devon, what a pleasure."
Devon pulled up straight in the saddle. "I wish I could say the same," she responded.
Bryce gave her a sardonic grin and introduced his companion. "May I present Lord Wycliff, negotiator for our soon to be sovereign, Robert the Bruce."
"My pleasure," Devon said sweetly.
"Why don't you and Nigel ride on to the castle?" Bryce suggested to Lord Wycliff. "I have something private to discuss with Lady Devon."
Nigel and Wycliff took their leave before Devon could object and she was alone with Bryce. Turning her horse around, she sought to follow them, but Bryce grabbed the reins and held her in place.
Connie C. Scharon - Highland Legends 02 Page 9