Highlander Unbound

by Julia London

  Now Nigel had Liam’s undivided attention—he could hardly believe his good fortune. If the old man was gone, that left…“Aye, but ye’d not leave yer sister alone, would ye, Nigel?”

  “Who, Barbara?” he asked, then suddenly flashed a sly smile. “Have you a particular interest, Cousin Liam?” he all but squealed, but saved Liam the problem of answering by announcing, “Barbara is quite capable of staying behind.”

  Damn.

  “But she does not like to be alone, and will therefore be quite comfortable at Auntie’s house.”

  Liam could not believe his ears or his apparent dumb luck—the Lockhart mansion would be empty and he could seize that wretched beastie in a matter of days! He laid his cards, let Nigel beat him, then as his cousin picked up the cards and began to shuffle them, he asked, “When is it ye leave, then?”

  “Oh, this afternoon at four o’clock. Uckerby is of a mind to picnic near Ascot.”

  Today?

  “You’ll come then, will you?”

  “Ach, what rotten misfortune,” Liam said, quickly recovering from his surprise. “I’ve a rather important appointment on the morrow. Bank.” He grimaced accordingly.

  “Ah.” Nigel matched that grimace with one of his own. “Exceedingly unpleasant business, I should think, what with your miserly father and all. Must keep that appointment, I suppose!” Liam nodded. “It would be insupportable to miss it?” he tried again.

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, very well!” Nigel exclaimed petulantly. “We’re to Bath often enough—we might perhaps invite you again,” he said, and focused on the cards in his hand.

  Liam lost two more hands, after which he glanced at his pocket watch. “Is it so late, then? Almost two o’clock,” he said, and Nigel instantly came to attention.

  “Two! Oh, dear, I must be away—Uckerby has the foulest temper when he’s kept the least bit waiting.” He thrust up out of his chair, and teetering on his bird legs, stuck a hand out to Liam. “Wish you well, all that,” he said, and eagerly shook Liam’s hand. “We’ll come calling in a day or two, mark me. Pip-pip!” And with that he toddled out the door.

  “Good-bye, then, Cousin Nigel,” Liam muttered under his breath.

  He waited a quarter of an hour after Nigel left, then walked the short distance to the Lockhart mansion, strolling past like a gent on a walkabout, surreptitiously noting the various features, reviewing his options for reaching the trellis and mentally reviewing the lay of the rooms once more. He then walked the most direct but least observable routes to and from Belgrave Square to assure himself that he knew where he was going, particularly since he would make his trek in the dead of night. And as he walked back to the Farnsworth house to wait for night, he forced himself to keep from thinking of Ellie, to keep his thoughts focused on the task at hand, repeating over and over in his heart and mind that he would get the beastie first, just get the blasted thing. Then, and only then, would he think what to do. He had a forty-eight-hour window before Nigel and his father would return. Forty-eight hours to determine the course of the rest of his life.

  From her bench in the square, where Natalie sat beside her drawing, Ellen noticed that these last few days of warm autumn sun they had enjoyed would be short-lived—she could see the clouds on the horizon, could feel the sharp chill in the air that seemed to creep into her spine. She drew her cloak more tightly about her and saw Liam striding across the square, head down, his expression quite serious. It was a much different expression than she had grown accustomed to, and instantly curious, she nudged her daughter. “Natalie, darling, catch Captain Lockhart, will you, and ask him to come and sit with us for a moment.”

  Natalie looked up from her drawing, saw Liam. “He looks rather cross,” she said as she slipped off the bench and went running after him. Ellen watched as Natalie caught up to him, grabbing his coat. He jerked around, obviously surprised. He looked down at Natalie, then instantly looked up, to where Ellen was sitting.

  Even at that distance, she could tell by the tension in his shoulders, the dark expression that shadowed his features. She knew. She knew. Her heart plummeted; her hands and face went cold, and she realized, as Liam strode toward her, Natalie running alongside, that she was shaking. It had come after all, this defining moment, the one instance in her twenty-eight years that would shape the rest of her life to come. Why, oh, why had she fallen in love again? How had she allowed it to happen? She knew the consequences of love, knew the consequences of that very first kiss, knew that only sorrow could come of it. In these last few days, her love for Liam felt so endless that his departure could only be horrid.

  Somehow she managed to find her feet as Liam reached her. He came to an abrupt halt directly before her, his eyes roaming her face. After a moment, he said roughly, “There ye are, Ellie, looking as bonny as ever.” He sounded, oddly, almost angry.

  Nonetheless, Ellen forced a smile to her face. “How very kind you are to me, Liam. You look to be in quite a hurry!”

  “Do I?”

  She put a hand over her eyes, pretending to shield them from the fading sun. “Is…is something amiss?” Say no, say no, say—

  “The Lockharts…they are to Bath,” he said simply, and looked at Natalie, who had resumed her drawing.

  Ellen’s instincts, then, had been deadly accurate, and her heart climbed to her throat. “Indeed! All of them?” she forced herself to exclaim.

  “Cousin Barbara will stay with an aunt. But Uncle, Nigel…”

  “But this is splendid news!” she said as his voice trailed off.

  Liam frowned at her then. “Ellie, I—”

  “We must have cake to celebrate,” she interrupted him, before he could say words that would destroy her. “Agatha brought us a cake! Will you take tea with us, sir?”

  “Oh, yes, please let’s have cake!” Natalie innocently chimed in.

  Liam’s eyes went dark with some emotion she could not fathom. “Cake,” he echoed.

  “Rum cake,” she clarified, to which Natalie exclaimed with a squeal of delight that she adored rum cake. Ellie held out her hand to her. “Gather your things, darling, we’re off for tea and a bit of cake. Aren’t we, Captain?” Natalie sprang to her feet, gathered her paper and pencils to her chest, and fell in beside her mother. Ellen began walking, her limbs numb, silently willing herself to put one foot in front of the other. She had given Liam no choice; he followed her on a walk that loomed in front of her as the longest of her life.

  But what could she do? Her father would be home in two days. Liam likely would be gone, and she could already feel the void he would leave in their lives, a void that was already beginning to squeeze the breath from her. It was almost more than she could bear, suffocating in its misery, but she was determined not to let him see it, not to let him know how much this hurt.

  When they reached the house, Liam excused himself, but came to her suite a half hour later, the same as always, bearing a small gift, a button from his regimental coat for Natalie. They took tea as they always did, enjoying Agatha’s cake. But the tension was palpable, and unable to endure it, Ellen finally took Natalie to her room, then returned to broach the subject of the beastie. “You’ll go tonight, won’t you?” she asked as she entered the room.

  Liam came instantly to his feet the moment the words were out of her mouth, pacing. “He rather surprised me, he did, with his announcement,” he confessed. “I’d no’ thought the opportunity would come so quickly.”

  “It’s a godsend,” Ellen murmured.

  “But…” He paused, looking helplessly at her.

  “But you must do what you came here to do, Liam,” she said, walking to the window. “There’s little point, if any, in debating it.”

  “Aye,” he sighed, and shoved a hand through his hair. “There’s no point. I’ve me entire family to think of, Ellie. They are counting on me, they are.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “But…it leaves unanswered questions between us, that I know, and
I intend to address them, I do. But I canna do so, no’ now, no’ tonight. I…I must get the beastie, and until I have it safely in hand, I donna have the answers. That is, I mean to say…the two of us, ’twas no’ meant to happen, I think, but now that it has, I…I must think on it.”

  Not meant to happen… Of course not. Ellen smiled and touched his face. “I’m not asking for answers. I understand. I only pray that you will understand, too.”

  He looked at her curiously. “Of course I understand,” he said emphatically, pulling her into his embrace. “Ye have no’ said it, but I know ye love me, Ellie. I can feel it through to me very bones,” he murmured against the top of her head.

  She said nothing, just let him hold her, knowing that it would be the last time he held her like this.

  He left soon afterward—there were several things he needed to do that evening in preparation for his task. Ellen wanted to help him, but he refused it, saying if something went awry, he wouldn’t have her implicated, not even remotely.

  So Ellen made her own preparations, what few there were left to do. And when the clock struck midnight—a scant two hours before Liam would make his move—she made sure Natalie was sleeping, descended the staircase wearing a long pelisse, carrying sturdy walking shoes in her hand. Using her fingertips against the wall to guide her, she moved silently down the corridor toward his rooms, her heart growing heavier with each step, breaking under the weight of it all. It was ending too soon!

  Drawing a deep, fortifying breath, she rapped lightly on the door, heard the creak of the bedsprings, and calmly pushed it open, peeking around the frame. Dressed in his kilt, Liam was lying on his side. A single candle burned on the table, casting a soft, murky light across the room. “Ellie,” he whispered as she slipped through the door. “I hoped ye’d come.”

  She stepped inside, closed the door softly behind her, and leaned against it, looking at him. Lord God, she did love him, even though she’d convinced herself, after so many painful months of waiting for Daniel to return to her, that she’d never love again. Ah, but what irony. Look at you now, Ellie. Look at you, desperately in love with him. And look what would become of them. Her lot in life, it seemed, was to love deeply just to lose it.

  “Come here, lass,” he said, rising to sit on the edge of the bed.

  Ellen leaned down, laid her shoes by the door, then straightened again and began to slowly unbutton her pelisse, letting it fall open to reveal the gown she had discovered in the trunks on the top floor. Liam watched her, his eyes drifting from her face to her body as the pelisse fell open, his fingers curling around the edge of the bed. “Mo creach, what have ye got there?”

  She smiled wantonly, knowing the effect of the bathing gown she had discovered. It was a paper-thin, almost transparent gown from years gone by that a modest woman would have once worn to bathe in. She shrugged out of the pelisse and let it fall to the floor.

  His eyes on her body, Liam rose to his feet. “What a treasure ye bring me, leannan,” he said admiringly. He began to walk toward her, the kilt swinging around his knees, his gaze feasting on her. “I swear to heaven, there was never a woman more beautiful than ye are. Never.”

  That heartfelt sentiment trickled down her spine like a tear, yet Ellen remained silent as he came forward and reached for her. When his hand touched her waist, she laughed low, put a hand to his chest and pushed away from the door, forcing Liam backward.

  His lips curled seductively; he laughed with her as he caught her wrist. “What is this, then? Would ye entice me so then deny me?”

  She pushed him, forcefully, and Liam stumbled backward a step or two. “Do you deserve to touch me, sir?” she asked playfully, lifting her chin.

  “I donna know if I deserve it,” he said, “but I crave it like water. Ye should no’ play with a man who desires to touch ye as much as I do.”

  Ellen tossed her head, strutted away from him, aware that he could see her naked body through the flimsy material. He made a guttural, appreciative sound as she neared the table, where she saw his things so carefully laid out—the sporran, the daggers. The war medals. She turned around, leaned against the table and cupped her breast with her hand. “Do you want to touch this?” she murmured huskily.

  His legs braced apart, Liam clenched his hands in a fist. “Aye.”

  She smiled, flicked her finger against her nipple. “Do you want to kiss it?”

  Liam growled, took a step forward, but Ellen quickly moved, putting the table between them. Bracing himself against the table with his hand, Liam leaned across, chuckling. “I warned ye no’ to play games with an aroused man, lass,” he said sportingly, but there was a sting of truth in his voice. “If ye play with fire, ye may be burned.”

  Ellen leaned across the table, so that her gown was gaping open and he could see her breasts. “Perhaps. But if you want to touch fire, you must be prepared to hold it in your hand.”

  Liam instantly made a move to his right; Ellen jumped to her left, just beyond his reach, and laughed low. His smile faded. “Come now, Ellie. Ye’ve had yer fun.”

  “Have I?” she asked, laughing again as she ran across the floor to a window. She stood in front of the heavy drapes, pulled back with a thick-roped cord. “Shall I open the window so everyone sees how you chase me to ravage me?”

  “Ye’ve no idea how close I am to doing just that,” he said, walking toward her.

  Ellen darted to the next window, pulled the heavy cord that held the drape, and let it fall. She tossed the cord on the bed, kicked the drape out in front of Liam and ran to the brazier. His eyes never left her; he followed her, moving slowly, cautiously, a strange light playing in his eyes. “Ye’ll pay for yer foolishness,” he warned her. “I’ll no’ be gentle.”

  “I do not believe I asked you to be gentle, sir…if you catch me.”

  That caused him to lunge for her, but Ellie managed to slip him again, running to the empty hearth, laughing breathlessly.

  “Why would ye torment me thus?” he asked, just as breathlessly. “Ye desire yer punishment, eh?”

  Ellen dragged her palms up her belly to her breasts, kneading them. Liam stared at her with dark, hungry eyes, and a wave of desire arched down her back, landing hot in her groin. She licked her lips, let her eyes wander his body, the broad chest, the narrow waist. The tent of his kilt.

  “Ye see what ye do to me, then,” he said low.

  Lifting her gaze, she purposefully laughed at him. “I enjoy tormenting you thus.”

  Liam shrugged out of his shirt and let it drop. “Then by all means, come here and torment me, leannan.”

  Ellen shook her head; Liam suddenly strode forward, and with a shriek of laughter, she made a mad dash for the bed, letting him catch her this time. He fell with her onto the bed. Ellen started to struggle, but he caught her arm in his hand and held her with an iron grip; with his legs, he locked her legs. Then, with his free hand, he unbuckled his belt.

  “Oooh, do you intend to tie me up?” she asked with breathless anticipation. Liam’s eyes widened for a moment, but he responded by straddling her, jerking her arm to the bedpost and wrapping the belt around it.

  “I’ll be your prisoner of love,” she murmured, “but it’s too tight.”

  “I tied it loosely, mo ghraid.” He leaned over and kissed her as his hand sought her breast.

  Ellen squirmed beneath him. “It’s too tight, Liam.”

  He groaned, lifted his head, and looked up at the belt. “It canna be—”

  “Here, I’ll show you. Slip your hand in with mine. Come on, then, put your hand with mine.”

  Liam smiled as if he suspected this was more play, and slipped his hand into the loop of his belt with hers. “There ye see, then? Quite loose.”

  “Silly, wretched man!” she said, pausing to let the tip of her tongue run across his shoulder. “You’ve no idea how to play properly! Shall I show you how to take your prisoner and relieve your lust?”

  Liam closed his eyes with a moan, and
Ellen tugged free of the belt and moved from beneath him, pushing him down as she straddled him. She lifted the bathing gown, pressed her warm, moist flesh to his groin, partially bared now that he had removed his belt and his kilt was falling away. He sighed with ecstasy; Ellen laughed and looked up at his arm hanging loosely from the bedpost. “Oh no, this will not do,” she said, and reached for the drapery cord she had tossed onto the bed. She pushed his belt away and wrapped the drapery cord around his wrist and the bedpost, tying the complicated lover’s knot he had taught her one lazy afternoon when they had played with his neckcloth—the same knot she had practiced over and over in the privacy of her room. His eyes fluttered open; he smiled up at her. “Now that ye have me captive, what would ye do?”

  Ellen slid down, let her mouth trail from one nipple to the other, then rose again to press her sex against his hardness. “I don’t have you captive yet.”

  “Ach, lass,” he groaned impatiently. “I’m captive, I’m captive, then! Ye torture me!”

  “That,” she whispered, “is precisely what I intend to do.” She came up off the bed, untied the bathing gown at her neck and let it fall away from her body. Naked, she walked to the second window, where she untied the cord from the drape, then draped it around her neck like a boa scarf, strutting back to him. He had lifted himself up, so that his back was to the headboard, and he watched her with due anticipation, practically licking his lips.

  Ellen climbed on top of him again, resumed the rubbing of her sex against his, and taking his other hand in hers, she lifted it to the second bedpost. “Shall I tell you what I intend to do with you?” she whispered. “I will tie you up. Then, I will taste every inch of you—”

  He bucked helplessly beneath her.

  “—and nibble away at you like cake,” she continued.

  “If ye go to such lengths, I must insist that ye torture me completely,” he jested. Ellen smiled down at Liam; his expression was that of a man thoroughly enjoying carnal pleasure—a devilish, boyish look. Tears were suddenly burning at the back of her throat; she quickly looked away and wrapped the cord around his wrist and bedpost, tied the second lover’s knot. “So many knots, Ellie, because lovers are never meant to part,” he had told her.