Jarred from her thoughts, Aileen looked up. Niall had halted just ahead of her and was talking to one of his men, who’d noticed her inattention. Her horse sidestepped and moved alongside Niall’s.
Stern-faced, he looked down at her and bowed his head formally. His behavior pricked at her heart, though she knew he did it to show his deference to her before his men.
“The next village is close, my lady. We’ll stop there,” Niall said in his low, melodious voice. “There is an inn.”
“Why? It is not yet near dark.”
Niall raised his eyes to the sky. “Rain is coming.”
Aileen sighed heavily. Niall nodded, and with a flick of his reins, moved ahead of her. This meant they wouldn’t get to Ellandonan until late tomorrow, perhaps even the day after, depending on how late they set off in the morning.
By the time they reached the village, the rain was coming down hard and Aileen was chilled and soaked through. She waited under the eaves, shivering, as Niall divested the inn of its present occupants to make room for their party. Jannet stood beside her. Clearly oblivious to her lady’s dread, the lass’s excitement had grown by leaps and bounds as they closed the distance to Ellandonan.
The innkeeper’s wife, a tall, bony woman, led them up to the largest chamber in the inn. Ducking beneath the low doorframe, the woman gestured them inside. The room was tiny by Aileen’s standards and reeked of body odor and stale smoke. Striding inside, she jerked open the little window and tried to fan some fresh air into the room.
“Will that be all, lady?” the innkeeper’s wife inquired in heavily accented Scots.
Aileen smiled. “That will be all for now. Thank you.”
The door shut behind the woman with a thud.
The afternoon was interminable. Aileen picked at her embroidery, casting frequent longing glances at the window, while Jannet fluttered about, too excited to accomplish anything sensible. She chattered on and on about Ellandonan Castle and how thrilling it would be to finally meet all her Mackenzie cousins again.
None of it would have been so bad if Aileen wasn’t filled with such immense yearning. Not to make love to Niall, though she would sacrifice almost anything for one more night with him, but the longing to be near him, beside him, talking to him.
The rain came down steadily, at times gusting into the little room. Jannet asked permission to close the window numerous times, but Aileen refused. For some illogical reason, she felt that if she closed the window, it would be severing her link—as insubstantial as it was—to Niall.
At times she had heard the sound of his voice above the rain. He was on the street below, working with his men. His voice might well be the only thing that kept her sane.
Finally, the innkeeper came up to deliver their dinner. After eating her fill of mutton, Jannet curled up on her pallet. The small space promptly began to resonate with her snores.
Aileen went to bed, but she tossed and turned on the lumpy heather-stuffed mattress, feeling boxed-in and restless. Finally, she rose quietly and padded to the window in bare feet, hoping to stick her head outside and breathe in some fresh air.
The clouds had cleared, leaving a blanket of glittering stars scattered across the night sky. But the window was so tiny, Aileen could not fit much more than her arm through it. She turned away. Tugging her plaid over her shoulders, she slipped on her shoes and went downstairs. The inn was quiet, but one of her Mackenzies stood at the main entrance, his arms crossed over his chest. He turned to her in surprise as she approached and raised a bushy red eyebrow at her.
“My lady, are you well?”
“Aye, Iain. I just needed some air.” She looked down the wide path, gutted with potholes, that marked the village’s main road. Moonlight drifted across the mud puddles, giving the street a surreal, storybook quality. “I believe I shall go for a walk.”
He bowed. “I’ll accompany you.”
She waved her hand. “That won’t be necessary. I want to be by myself. You stay here. There’s no danger hereabouts, is there?”
Iain’s thin lips pinched together. Aileen knew he didn’t approve of her walking alone, but he could do little to stop her short of physically restraining her. And her men were too loyal to do such a thing. “None that we know, lady.”
“I’ll not go far. I just need to breathe some clean air for a few minutes.” She smiled up at him and patted her thigh. “In any case, Iain, there is no reason to worry. After all, I’d never leave Dornoch without my dirk.”
He gave a low laugh. Like all of her men, he’d seen her skill with the dagger firsthand and knew she had hidden sheaths sewn into all her clothing. When Walter was not in residence at the castle, she’d often practiced with her men. They all looked upon her skill with pride, for they’d all had a hand in developing it.
Glancing down at the fold of her plaid where she’d had the hidden sheath sewn, he grinned. “Aye, lady.”
Aileen stepped out onto the street. The clucking noises of a hen came from nearby, and Aileen saw it walking dazedly from behind the nearest cottage. “What are you doing up at this hour? You should be asleep,” she whispered at it sternly.
The hen cocked its head at her, gazed at her for a moment with beady little eyes, then turned and tottered away.
Aileen walked down the muddy road, sidestepping potholes. Scattered thatched stone cottages lined the street, all dark and silent in the dead of the night. A granite cathedral, by far the most beautiful building in this village, stood at the street’s end. She’d walk to the cathedral and back. Afterward, she might be able to sleep.
Tomorrow, she would meet with her half brother John for the first time since she’d gone to Ellandonan for Hogmanay two years ago.
What would he say to her? Had he already chosen her future husband?
She could only hope that Gilbert Dunbar wasn’t still in the Highlands. His presence would make things more difficult. But if he had already come to some sort of agreement with John, Aileen held little hope of dissuading her brother from marrying her to the villain.
Skirting a puddle of water, Aileen paused in her steps and tilted her face to the heavens. She took deep breaths, allowing the crisp spring air to cleanse her lungs.
“It is late, Lady Aileen. And you shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Niall. His low, resonant voice swept over her like a caress.
He stood close to her, close enough to touch. Heat resonated from him. His hands rested at his sides. Big hands, powerful hands. Hands that had touched her, stroked her to ecstasy just a few nights ago. Instantly, the parts of her body that he had brought to pleasure began to ache. Her nipples pressed against the wool of her gown. Her center grew tight and hot. If he touched it, his fingers would slide in her juices.
She glanced back toward the inn. Iain leaned against the wall, giving the appearance of relaxation, though she knew that every one of his senses would be alert and on guard. Iain wasn’t exactly staring at them, but he wasn’t looking away either. She thrust away her body’s aching need for the man standing beside her, close enough to touch. To embrace. She certainly could not take him here, on the muddy street with her man looking on, surrounded by sleeping peasants.
“The chamber was stifling.” Her cheeks burned, and for some reason, she found she couldn’t meet his eyes, so she stared at his broad chest. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He took hold of her arm, squeezing tightly. “It is too dangerous for a woman to walk alone at night in an unfamiliar place.”
The walls of her defenses built up faster than she could tear them down. She shrugged his arm off. “Who are you to tell me what is too dangerous? You returned into my life six days ago and you think you know me? You don’t know anything about me.”
“But I do.” His voice was low. It tripped along her backbone, lighting a thousand tiny fires under her skin. She shook them off.
“You do,” she conceded. “Yet you do not know that I am capable of defending myself.”
“Are you?”
S
he began strolling toward the cathedral again, smiling at the reassuring bump of the hidden dagger against her thigh. “Indeed. Remember, I was my mother’s only child and my father’s only child in the fifteen years that separated John and me. Before he died, he liked to pretend I was a boy. He taught me all manner of self-defense. After you left Dornoch, I continued to hone my skills.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed. It was…” She let her voice dwindle. Some of Walter’s friends had been quite debauched, and at times they had been overly presumptuous in their advances—especially when Walter had brought out the whisky.
“It was…what?” Niall asked.
“It was necessary,” she said in a low voice.
Niall stiffened beside her.
“I carry my dirk with me most of the time,” she said, trying to reassure him. “It is a small thing, no longer than the length of my hand. But I keep it sharp, and it’s a lethal weapon should I choose it to be.”
After a short silence, Niall asked, “Have you ever had to use it?”
“Nay.” She laughed softly. “Not in the lethal sense, in any case. Though I have threatened a drunken lout or two with it.”
He swiped strong fingers down the back of her plaid, clearly referring to the scars. “If you are so confident with your weapon, why did you not defend yourself against Munro?”
She glanced back toward the inn. They had rounded a bend in the road and the front of the small establishment was no longer visible. Turning to Niall, she narrowed her eyes in challenge. “Why should I have defended myself against Walter? What good would it have done? Retaliation would not have protected me; it would have made my life so much worse. Though I am skilled, he was far more skilled than me. But more importantly, I was bound to him, to honor and obey. He was my husband.”
Niall’s jaw tensed. “I fail to see how defending yourself could be worse than what you had to endure.”
She snorted. “I did not endure much. Really. I know there are scars…but some wives suffer much worse. I’ve seen it. I learned to count my blessings, small as they were.”
“I cannot see how you did not want to kill him, make him suffer for what he did to you.”
“At times I wanted him dead, Niall,” she murmured. She didn’t want to elaborate. Worse than the beatings, far worse, was the fact that she had not provided Walter with an heir. A child had been the one thing she wanted most in the world.
Fortunately, Niall let it go. He turned his face away, but his fingers still pressed against her scarred back. He lowered his voice. “If I had seen him do this to you, I would have killed him myself.”
“Would you?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “He trained you. Did you consider yourself his better?”
“Not then. But I could defeat him now.”
“Do you think so? Walter was a powerful man.”
He whipped his face back toward hers, a dangerous glint sparking in his eyes. She’d insulted his pride. Immediately, guilt washed through her. Why was she taunting him?
“Aye, I could,” he said tightly.
That sobered her. She reached up to take his arm. “I’m sorry, Niall. I did not mean to call your skill into question. Indeed, you are the strongest man I have ever known. I’m not being fair to you. In truth, I am…” She paused, struggling to rein in her emotions. How could she tell him all that was happening, all her fears and impossible desires? “I was just thinking about my meeting with the laird.”
He drew her to a stop beside him then turned to her, his face dark. Still angry, but determined. “I’m going to ask the laird for his blessing to marry you.”
Chapter Seven
She gasped. Surely he wasn’t so naive as to actually believe John might agree to a marriage between her and Niall?
“Niall, I don’t think—”
“Stop.” He took her hands in his. “I know the chances of him agreeing are slim to none. But you are mine. I cannot imagine… I cannot tolerate the thought of you with anyone else.”
She should be appalled by his feelings of ownership over her. Instead, warmth seeped through her body. Nobody had ever desired her the way Niall did. And it worked both ways. The mere thought of him with another woman made her blood run cold.
She wanted to be his. Wanted it with all her heart. But she was an heiress and sister to the laird. There was no way on earth John would allow a landless warrior to marry her.
Looking up at Niall, she bit her bottom lip. “I’ve been thinking as we’ve been riding the past few days. What if I sufficiently persuaded John of my distress over Walter’s death that he’d allow me to remain in mourning for at least two years? He would not force me to marry as long as I am in mourning.”
Niall frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”
She shrugged. “To prolong my freedom. Much can change in two years. Anything could happen.”
“Aileen.” He gripped both her shoulders. “Listen to me. If we join together in our request to the laird, perhaps he will understand our happiness depends on being together.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “Does it?”
“Aye!” he said harshly. “Mine does.”
Aileen squeezed her eyes shut. Did she feel the same way?
She wanted a future with Niall. She wanted to wake up in the morning and turn over to see him sleeping by her side.
And if she couldn’t have him…she couldn’t be happy. She might survive, but she wouldn’t be happy.
Lord, she was lost. She sank against his hard chest. “Niall…Niall. What will we do?”
Stroking her back over the wool of her plaid, he held her, heating her blood through the layers of material between them. “The laird has always been greedy for land. Perhaps we can entice him.”
She thought for a long moment, calculating. “I have four small houses besides Dornoch, and several thousand acres of land.” She pressed her face against his plaid. “I could give it all up. All I want is Dornoch. And you.”
She tightened her arms around him. His shaft grew against her belly until it was rigid. Desire swept through her, raw, burning and irresistible.
“Niall,” she whispered. “I want you. Now.”
He bent his head to kiss the top of hers, then scanned their surroundings. She could virtually hear the cogs of his brain turning, calculating where they might go.
“Come.” Tugging on her hand, he turned toward one of the cottages.
“What about Iain?”
“I told your man I would escort you. He knows you’re safe with me.” He pinned her with a gaze darkened by the night. “It’ll be fast.”
She let him tug her past a timbered house, the largest in the village. He unlatched the side door of the barn behind it.
The inside of the barn was wide and open, with high rafters, a cart parked at the far end and horse stalls near the door. Well-kept and clean, it smelled of fresh hay and leather.
He led her past the horses and toward the cart, but she pulled him to a stop.
Her voice sounded loud in the open space. A horse nickered from within a stall. “I want to see you.” She took a deep breath, acutely apprehensive of her own brashness. Forcing herself to continue, she said, “I might never have the chance again. Please.”
Looking almost embarrassed, he gave her a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at their edges. “All right.”
Niall moved to the cart and hoisted himself up to sit on the cart’s flat bed. “There isn’t much time.”
That was certainly the truth. She’d promised Iain she’d be back soon, although he’d certainly seen Niall with her and wouldn’t worry as much as he might if she’d been by herself when she’d disappeared.
Boldly, she stepped forward until his muscular thighs bracketed her body.
She rested her hands on them, and the muscles tensed beneath her touch. “Lift your plaid.”
Dark blue eyes met hers, challenging. “Is that an order, Lady Aileen?”
“Aye, it is.”
; Smiling, he hitched the fabric above his hips. “Ahh…it’s cold out here.”
There it was, the part of him that had been the source of such great pleasure to her. “It’s so…big!” she exclaimed in surprise. She would have stepped back, but his thighs tightened around her middle.
Niall gave a low chuckle. “You know how to boost a man’s confidence, lady.”
“Can I…can I touch it?”
A low groan escaped him. “Please do.”
“Can I put my mouth on it? Like you put your mouth on me?” Though she knew she shouldn’t feel ashamed about wanting to touch any part of his body after how close they’d been at Dornoch, she couldn’t meet his eyes.
He sucked in a ragged breath and pressed the rough pad of his thumb against her lips. “I’ve not been able to stop thinking about your bonny lips wrapped around my cock.”
Leaning forward, she touched him first, opening her hands and stroking her palms up and down the length of him. Before, she’d brushed her fingers over him briefly, but not in exploration. Now she reveled in the feel of him, the enticing, erotic blend of soft and hard.
Lightly, she skimmed her fingertips down, tracing the ridge of the large vein running along the underside. She moved lower, cupping his sac and rolling it gently.
“Do you like that?”
He closed his eyes. “Aye.”
“You will tell me to stop if I hurt you, won’t you?”
He opened his eyes and studied her with a serious expression on his face. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Even if I bite you?” she teased.
“A little bite would feel good,” he said. “It would only hurt if you bit with the intention of drawing blood.”
Aileen widened her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then…keep doing what you’re doing. Ah…that’s it.” He closed his eyes.
One hand gently massaged his bullocks while she pumped the other over the thick length of him.
“That’s good.”
Aileen watched, enthralled, as a pearly bead of liquid appeared on his tip. Tentatively, she leaned forward and touched her tongue to it.
“That’s right,” he said. “More.”
Sins of the Highlander (A Highland Erotic Romance) Page 6